Mr. Pitt’s political Influence at the commencement of the year
1758--Five Great Men--Opening of Parliament, and Speech of Mr.
Pitt--Clive’s Victories in India--Military Appointments--Affairs
of Ireland--Disinterested conduct of Mr. Conway--Dr. Clayton,
Bishop of Clogher--Picture of the Manners of the Age--The King’s
Munificence--Affair of the Habeas Corpus--Attorney-General Pratt
brings in a Bill for extending it--Anecdotes of the Navy Bill.
Pitt was now arrived at undisturbed possession of that influence in
affairs at which his ambition had aimed, and which his presumption
had made him flatter himself he could exert like those men of
superior genius, whose talents have been called forth by some crisis
to retrieve a sinking nation. He had said the last year to the Duke
of Devonshire, “My Lord, I am sure I can save this country, and
nobody else can.” It were ingratitude to him to say that he did not
give such a reverberation to our stagnating Councils, as exceedingly
altered the appearance of our fortune. He warded off the evil hour
that seemed approaching; he infused vigour into our arms; he taught
the nation to speak again as England used to speak to Foreign
Powers; and so far from dreading invasions from France, he affected
to turn us into invaders. Indeed, those efforts were so puny, so
ill-concerted, so ineffectual to any essential purpose, that France
looked down with scorn on such boyish flippancies, which Pitt deemed
heroic, which Europe thought ridiculous, and which humanity saw were
only wasteful of lives, and precedents of a more barbarous warfare
than France had hitherto been authorized to carry on. In fact, Pitt
had neither all the talents he supposed in himself, nor which he
seemed to possess from the vacancy of great men around him. Thinly,
very thinly, were great men sown in my remembrance: I can pretend to
have seen but five; the Duke of Cumberland, Sir Robert Walpole, Lord
Granville, Lord Mansfield, and Pitt. I have expatiated on all their
characters separately; and yet I am inclined to say a few words more
in the light of comparison. It is by setting the same characters in
different oppositions and points of view, that nearer acquaintance
with them may be struck out.
Lord Granville was most a genius of the five: he conceived, knew,
expressed whatever he pleased. The state of Europe and the state of
literature were equally familiar to him. His eloquence was rapid,
and flowed from a source of wit, grandeur, and knowledge. So far
from premeditated, he allowed no reflection to chasten it. It was
entertaining, it was sublime, it was hyperbole, it was ridiculous,
according as the profusion of ideas crowded from him. He embraced
systems like a legislator, but was capable of none of the detail
of a magistrate. Sir Robert Walpole was much the reverse: he knew
mankind, not their writings; he consulted their interests, not their
systems; he intended their happiness, not their grandeur. Whatever
was beyond common sense, he disregarded. Lord Mansfield, without
the elevation of Lord Granville, had great powers of eloquence. It
was a most accurate understanding, and yet capable of shining in
whatever it was applied to. He was as free from vice as Pitt, more
unaffected, and formed to convince, even where Pitt had dazzled. The
Duke of Cumberland had most expressive sense, but with that connexion
between his sense and sensibility, that you must mortify his pride
before you could call out the radiance of his understanding. Being
placed at the head of armies without the shortest apprenticeship, no
wonder he miscarried: it is cruel to have no other master than one’s
own faults. Pitt’s was an unfinished greatness: considering how much
of it depended on his words, one may almost call his an artificial
greatness; but his passion for fame and the grandeur of his ideas
compensated for his defects. He aspired to redeem the honour of his
country, and to place it in a point of giving law to nations. His
ambition was to be the most illustrious man of the first country
in Europe; and he thought that the eminence of glory could not be
sullied by the steps to it being passed irregularly. He wished
to aggrandize Britain in general, but thought not of obliging or
benefiting individuals.
Lord Granville you loved till you knew him; Sir Robert Walpole, the
more you knew him: you would have loved the Duke, if you had not
feared him. Pitt liked the dignity of despotism; Lord Mansfield the
reality: yet the latter would have served the cause of power, without
sharing it: Pitt would have set the world free, if he might not
command it. Lord Granville would have preferred doing right, if he
had not thought it more convenient to do wrong: Sir Robert Walpole
meant to serve mankind, though he knew how little they deserved it;
and this principle is at once the most meritorious in oneself and to
the world. I beg pardon for this digression.
The Parliament had opened on the first of December in the last
year; and, as if to notify honestly, that Germany would not be
proscribed by Mr. Pitt, the King’s Speech talked openly of the
defence of his Majesty’s dominions of Britain and _elsewhere_. By
that little word _elsewhere_, Hanover was incorporated into the very
language of Parliament. Lord Westmoreland, in the Lords, spoke with
applause against re-echoing Addresses, and universal submission to
a Minister. In the Commons, Mr. Fox was absent on the death of his
favourite nephew, Lord Digby; and _elsewhere_ passed as if a phrase
of course, like the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed. Yet on the 14th,
when Lord Barrington, on delivering the estimate of the Army, had
complaisantly reverberated the word _elsewhere_, Mr. Pitt himself
said, he did not agree with his Lordship in that term; he meant the
Army for our immediate selves. He had never been against continental
measures when practicable; but would not now send a drop of our blood
to the Elbe, to be lost in that ocean of gore. Other parts of this
speech, admired almost beyond any of his orations, were so fine, and
so bombast, that I must just mention a few, though I do not intend
to fatigue the reader with more speeches: those I have given are
sufficient to illustrate our oratory.
Sir John Philipps had spoken dully, Beckford wildly, dropping this
expression, “He did not know in what hands we were.” Lord George
Sackville had made the apology of Lord Loudun, whose idle conduct
in America was much censured; yet where Lord George wished to have
him remain, lest, on a change of commanders, he himself should
be named. Pitt said, “In what hands were we?--in those of a most
gracious King:” on whom he made a panegyric, and of which the least
part was not his Majesty’s goodness to him since he last took the
Seals. How the King had listened even to him, though least in
Administration--though least, he hoped to continue in it with honour:
and he spoke of the great concord among the Ministers. But nothing
could be well till the Army was subjected to the civil power: they
were to obey, not to reason. Those sent on the late expedition had
laughed at it even at table--nay, so had some of the Cabinet. He
warmed himself on this topic, though he knew, he said, he ought not,
as the commander was actually under trial. On Lord Loudun he kept no
measures at all, but loaded him with all the asperity peculiar to his
style--he had scarce any hopes now, though the people paid such an
army in America: not only nothing was done--nothing was attempted. We
had lost all the waters; we had not a boat on them now. Every door
there was open to France. Though Lord George had excused, he could
not; he would not condemn, yet he believed against Lord Loudun, who
might have recovered our affairs if he had not loitered from the 9th
of July to the 5th of August, inquiring whether or no the French were
superior: indeed, for himself, our ill success had hurt his quiet
and tainted his health. He then burst out into an Eastern panegyric.
There he found Watson, Pococke, and Clive:--what astonishing success
had Watson had with only three ships, which had been laid up for
some time on land! He did not stay to careen this, and condemn that,
but at once sailed into the body of the Ganges. He was supported by
Clive, that man, not born for a desk; _that heaven-born General_,
whose magnanimity, resolution, determination, and execution would
charm a King of Prussia; and whose presence of mind astonished the
Indies!
These heroes soon added new wreaths to those with which Mr. Pitt had
crowned them. The King of Prussia took Breslau, and made prisoners
an Army of Generals and ten thousand men: and the letters of the
following month brought accounts of such victories and riches
acquired by Clive as astonished Europe as much as the Indies.
Discovering that the Nabob who ruled in that quarter was encouraged
by the French to break his alliance with us, and was actually on the
march to attack our settlements, Clive bribed his first Minister,
who, expediting his treachery in a more summary way than is usual in
this part of the world, murdered his master; and then Clive, at the
head of only three thousand men, and with a bravery that deserved a
better foundation than the assassination of an enemy, attacked and
defeated an army of thirty-five thousand. The new Nabob, established
by Clive’s influence, made immense presents to our fleet and East
India Company. Clive’s share amounted to above 200,000_l._ Admiral
Watson, to whom the Red Riband was destined, died of a fever two days
after the engagement.
General Abercrombie was sent to command in America; a man who
signalized himself neither before nor after his advancement. Five
new Brigadier-Generals and three Colonels, with rank only in our
colonies, were appointed to serve under him. Amherst had a separate
command, with Wolfe for second. These officers were all selected by
Pitt, who contented himself with always speaking of the affair of
Rochfort as _res intentata_, and with keeping the commanders on that
expedition unemployed; though Conway, in the most earnest terms, and
by every interest he could use, begged to serve in any quality, and
in any part of the world. He was refused: and even when the English
staff was carried in to the King by Ligonier, his Majesty struck out
the names of Mordaunt, Conway, and Cornwallis. Ligonier represented
Conway’s eagerness for employment, and that his case was different
from Mordaunt’s--he had tried to do something. “Yes,” said the King,
“_après diné la moutarde_.” However, he said he would think of
Conway, though not then.
In Ireland, affairs grew to a crisis. The Opposition were inflamed
with resentment at the Secret Committee set up by the Duke of
Bedford, the management of which they had wrested from him. As the
season, too, approached for the departure of the Lord Lieutenant, the
Primate had no time to lose for recovering his place in the Regency.
Every reason of policy and decency made it more eligible to him
to obtain that situation by gentle means than by violence. He and
Ponsonby offered terms to the Duke of Bedford, who, though confessing
their superiority in the House of Commons, refused to unite with
them. In truth, he had involved himself so much with Lord Kildare,
and was so unwilling to disoblige Fox by disobliging that Lord,
that he knew not how to extricate himself. If Kildare would have
softened towards the Primate, the accommodation would soon have been
completed; but he would not desert himself; and he knew his party
would desert him if once reconciled to the Prelate. More, the Black
Rod, was dispatched to England to consult Mr. Fox; the Duke hoping in
the meantime to be able to govern independently of either party.
The first step he took towards the system only tended to make it more
impracticable. A Judge’s place falling vacant, the Lord Lieutenant,
to demonstrate his impartiality, offered the nomination to the
Chancellor, who recommended Malone’s greatest enemy, a creature of
the Primate, and one formerly employed by Lord George Sackville to
write pamphlets on their side. His preferment, thus obtained, was
no obligation to the Primate: Malone resented it strongly, and soon
took an opportunity of exerting his resentment. The Secret Committee
got enlarged powers, intending to turn them against the Duke of
Bedford’s Treasury; and the party in general hurried to hostilities.
The Lord Lieutenant’s secretary was a place of great profit, if
in the hands of an intelligent and interested man. He had fees
from every new commission in the army; and his selling regiments
and subordinate ranks had long passed as a matter scarce to be
disavowed. If he had great power over his patron, and none over
himself, Bishoprics and every other preferment in the gift or at
the recommendation of the Lord Lieutenant were marketable at the
secretary’s apartments in the Castle. But it was on the death of
a King that the secretaryship was largely lucrative. He touched
for every renewal of commission and patent. With some of these
advantages, Mr. Conway had been a sufferer by the employment. The
table and equipage are very expensive for the year of the Lord
Lieutenant’s residence in Ireland. It is the second, the fallow[16]
year, that indemnifies both the master and the servant; and the Duke
of Devonshire quitted before their second year.
Mr. Conway had disdained the least gratification for his interest;
and as often as the Duke of Devonshire offered him the nomination
of regiments and commissions, he constantly recommended neglected
officers, who deserved the station, and were too indigent to reward
the service, for which Conway scorned to be rewarded. The great
age of the King, joined to the other inducements I have mentioned,
had been the principal object that had shone in Rigby’s eyes when
he carried the Duke of Bedford to Ireland; but that prospect the
Opposition now cut off; and while their patriotism was only sharpened
by popularity, it happily served to disburthen poor officers from so
heavy a tribute. They proposed a question, which, by the ill-humour
of Malone, was carried without a negative, that the Lord Lieutenant’s
secretary ought to have no fees for commissions; that the loss
ought to be made up to him in some other way. The King, when this
resolution came to England, ordered the secretary’s salary to be
2500_l._ a year. The blow was heavy, and had its effect.
The Primate, having demonstrated his power, showed he was not
implacable. Lord Fane, of whose integrity the Duke of Bedford had
the greatest opinion--and with some reason, for it was like his own,
founded on a partial degree of sense, and easily misled to very
contrary purposes--was then in Ireland. To him the Primate sent Lord
Hilsborough’s uncle, Mr. Hill, with new offers of accommodation.
Lord Fane carried them; but at first the Duke of Bedford was deaf.
Lord Fane went again; the Duchess and Rigby were present, and to
disguise their inclinations to the treaty, affected to receive him
with the same coldness as the Duke did; by which stale art the
Duke thought them of his opinion, till they had time to make him
of theirs; and then the negotiation was easily carried on, and the
Primate restored to his usual power in the Government, where, when
once reinstated, he became the sole arbiter of affairs. He avoided
interfering with Rigby’s traffic; he assured the Duchess of the
homage of her subjects, and secured her return to them; and he had
too much insinuation not to charm the Duke himself, who departed to
England, smiling and self-satisfied, though sold by one[17] man and
vanquished by another! Offers were made to Lord Kildare of being
included in this treaty, which he refused, quitting his part of the
Regency, but professing to avoid future hostilities. The Primate and
the Speaker were left Lords Justices; the third place, Lord Kildare’s
[one must have lived in England and seen the abandoned behaviour
of _our_ patriots before one could believe it], was filled by Lord
Shannon; that very Mr. Boyle, for whom Lord Kildare had commenced all
these disturbances, and whose opposition to the Primate had first
introduced _virtue_, and consequently prostitution, into Ireland.
Malone, too, kept his place, and Sir Richard Cox[18] was made a
Commissioner of the Revenue.
Before I quit the affairs of that country, I must mention a
spiritual business that made some noise there. Dr. Clayton, Bishop
of Clogher, had already distinguished himself as a man of parts and
a freethinker. His Essay on Spirit, which seemed to accord with
Clarke’s esoteric doctrine, had more the address of an heresiarch
than the plain-dealing simplicity of a Christian pastor. He now
published a vindication of the Testament, which seemed calculated
for doing anything with the Testament rather than supporting it. Yet
the man was believed sincere in his opinions--and so a man ought
to be who thinks it worth his while to expose himself by exploding
any common prejudices. He even aspired to sufferings for his zeal
in propagating counterband metaphysics among illiterate Irish. But
the Bishops, his brethren, taking the alarm, and intending a meeting
with their _orthodox_ Primate, in order to prepare an application to
the Crown for a royal visitation, Clayton died suddenly of a panic,
though possessed of a good private estate, and ambitious of martyrdom!
This little flame was soon extinguished; in fact, there were no
religious combustibles in the temper of the times. Popery and
Protestantism seemed at a stand. The modes of Christianity were
exhausted, and could not furnish novelty enough to fix attention.
Linzendorffe plied his Moravians with nudities, yet made few
enthusiasts. Whitfield and the Methodists made more money than
disturbances; his largest crop of proselytes lay among servant-maids;
and his warmest devotees went to Bedlam without going to war.
Bower, whom some thought they had detected as a Jesuit, and who at
most was but detected as an impostor, had laid open the practices
of the Catholics, and detailed the establishments of the Jesuits
in the very heart of London, without occasioning either alarm or
murmur against those fathers. His History of the Popes, one of the
ablest performances we have, was decried, because, to recommend a
work of truth and utility, he had embroidered his own story with
some marvellous legends. Yet, uninflammable as the times were,
they carried a great mixture of superstition. Masquerades had been
abolished, because there had been an earthquake at Lisbon; and when
the last jubilee-masquerade was exhibited at Ranelagh, the ale-houses
and roads to Chelsea were crowded with drunken people, who assembled
to denounce the judgments of God on persons of fashion, whose
greatest sin was dressing themselves ridiculously.
A more inconvenient reformation, and not a more sensible one, was set
on foot by societies of tradesmen, who denounced to the magistrate
all bakers that baked or sold bread on Sundays. Alum, and the variety
of spurious ingredients with which bread, and indeed all wares,
were adulterated all the week round, gave not half so much offence
as the vent of the chief necessary of life on the seventh day.
Indecent prints were prohibited: the Chief-Justice Mansfield caused
to be seized at an auction a well-known tale, called “The Woman of
Pleasure,” a work that simplified novels to their original intention.
Some of the elders, too, of our own Church, seeing what harvests were
brought into the tabernacles of Whitfield and Wesley by familiarizing
God’s word to the vulgar, and by elevating vulgar language, had
the discretion to apply the same call to their own lost sheep, and
tinkled back their old women by sounding the brass of the Methodists.
One Ashton, a quaint and fashionable preacher of the Orthodox,
talked to the people in a phrase compounded of cant and politics: he
reproved them for not coming to church, where “_God keeps a day, but
sees little company_;” and informed them that “_our ancestors loved
powder and ball, and so did our Generals; but the latter loved them
for their hair and hands_.” Yet to do justice to better principles,
the age had made some estimable improvements. Prize-fighting, in
which we had horribly resembled the most barbarous and most polite
nations, was suppressed by the Legislature. Hogarth had undertaken
the cause of humanity, and painted satires on all species of cruelty.
From France and Italy, we had adopted hospitals for foundlings; and
from the dictates of nature, all manner of hospitals. Our stage grew
chaste; indecency dared not to show its face in a modern comedy,
though it still remained in possession of the old ones; and what is
remarkable, having been tolerated when women went to the theatre in
masks, preserved its hold, now they went without them.
About this time, Lord Bute[19] obtained by the means of Pitt the
place of Commissioner of Excise for Scott, the late Preceptor, to
whom it had been promised. It was even wrested from a young Pelham,
to whom Newcastle had actually given it. Lord Bute thought this
service to Scott necessary, and had insisted warmly--otherwise Pitt
shunned all interfering in the disposal of employments.
The King, on the death of Princess Caroline, had voluntarily promised
to continue her allowance to Princess Emily, who handsomely engaged
to pay the same pensions and the same grants to the prisons that her
sister Caroline had done. She had even desired to impart a large
portion of it to her sister Mary of Hesse; but the King, while the
vapour of munificence lasted, said he should take care of Mary. In
a month’s time, the Duke of Newcastle was sent in form to notify to
Princess Emily that the King retracted his promise, and should not
continue to her the allowance of Princess Caroline.
An affair was now opened, which having once been deemed the most
important point to English liberty, would seem to demand large
discussion. But having been so much agitated formerly, and so well
explained in our parliamentary books, and now ending without any
alteration--rather without any improvement, of the ancient system, I
would willingly be very brief in relating what passed. That I mention
it at all with any detail, when hastening to the conclusion of my
work, is only to mark how much the modes of thinking change, and that
fundamentals themselves can make no impression, if apprehensions of
arbitrary power are not in fashion. If a passion for freedom is not
in vogue, patriots may sound the alarm till they are weary.
The Act of Habeas Corpus, by which prisoners may insist on being
brought to trial within a limited time, is the corner-stone of our
liberty. The power of pressing, and some other cases, seemed to clash
with this invaluable privilege, or that with the utility of pressing;
for if soldiers or mariners, impressed and carried to any distant
quarters or ports, might demand their _habeas corpus_, and claim
to be brought to the capital to have it examined whether they were
properly subject to the violence laid on them, sudden emergencies
would be deprived of their service, and a thousand accidents might
happen to facilitate their total escape, though ever so fit for
the intended destination of them. It was a doubt, too, whether all
the twelve Judges could or were obliged to grant the writ in time
of vacation. These doubts, which many prudent men thought it best
to leave in suspense or overwhelm in silence, others, if warmer,
not worse-intentioned, held necessary to be ascertained the moment
they had come into question: and they had come into question, and
a man, too apt to decide peremptorily when his decisions could
strengthen prerogative, had affected to pronounce against that
universal immunity from uncertain detention of their persons, which
the English, with so much reason, think their birthright. This was
the Chief Justice Mansfield. He had a bitter antagonist in the
Attorney-General Pratt, who had not only entered into employment on a
popular foot, but personally hated the Chief Justice, and was himself
steady, warm, sullen,[20] stained with no reproach, and an uniform
Whig. He declared himself with impetuosity for the utmost latitude
of the Habeas Corpus; and it reflected no small honour on him, that
the first advocate of the Crown should appear the firmest champion
against prerogative. Nor should we deem less highly of him, because
private motives spurred him on to the contest--alas! how cold would
public virtue be, if it never glowed but with public heat! So seldom,
too, it is that any considerations can bias a man to run counter to
the colour of his office and the interests of his profession, that
the world should not be too scrupulous about accepting the service as
a merit, but should honour it at least for the sake of the precedent.
Pratt prepared a Bill for explaining and extending the Habeas Corpus,
and ascertaining its full operation. It was brought into the House
of Commons, where Pitt and the Speaker supported it with firmness,
and the majority cheerfully promoted it. Yet even in that House it
met with avowed foes. The authority of Lord Mansfield had weight with
some; the influence of Lord Hardwicke with more; and the lawyers,
who easily overlooked the essence of a thing on which there was
enough said in their books to enchant them with sounds and cavils,
laid themselves out in such a profusion of jargon, that nothing
but the nonsense they talked prevented all the world from seeing
how much they contradicted both themselves and one another. They
made the plainest thing in the world, _the right to freedom_, the
most obscure; and yet while any hope of their becoming intelligible
remained, men listened to know through what genealogy of terms this
blessing had been derived to them: a common error that I willingly
censure, as if precedents brought in support of, did not weaken
liberty. Can ages of ancestors submitting to tyranny impeach my
freedom? Have I not a right to be free the moment I have the power
of being so? If we hold our liberties but by Magna Charta, we hold
them by an extorted piece of parchment. If the Crown had a right to
enslave us before, it has a right still, for then that struggle was
Rebellion; and what right can Rebellion give? Magna Charta was but
the King’s confession of his usurpation; as taking up arms against
oppression is only doing justice on the oppressor. I have ever found
that such grave personages as affect to authenticate our liberties
by history and precedent, are no better than those foppish tools the
Heralds, who hoard long rolls of nobility, but are ready to forge a
pedigree for the first pretender to birth.
The Bill passed easily, though tediously, through the Commons. Before
I proceed to its fate among the Lords, I must touch upon the other
events of the season.
The campaign was opened on our part with great success. Prince
Ferdinand and that gallant boy, his nephew, drove the French out of
Hanover, by a plan, like that of Turenne in Alsace, of attacking
them in four different quarters at once. The Count de Clermont, who
had succeeded Richelieu, behaved with a politeness that sufficiently
indicated how much the French were humbled;--he gave a pass to a
Courier, to come and acquaint the King that he was again master of
his dominions. But the virtuous humanity of the Duc de Randan must
not be confounded with the humiliation of his countrymen: Governor
of Hanover, he had treated the conquered with amiable lenity; and
when he was obliged to quit his post, and had full time to destroy
his magazines, he nobly abandoned them to the magistrates, and
marched himself the last out of the city, to prevent his troops from
committing any revengeful outrage.
George Grenville took advantage of the triumphant situation of his
connexion, and renewed his Navy Bill, which had been thrown out the
last year. And here Mr. Pitt had an opportunity of showing that if
he had submitted to unite with the very men he had persecuted, the
depression fell to them. The Duke of Newcastle, Lord Hardwicke, and
Lord Anson were all obliged to vote for this very Bill, which they
had rejected last year. Some pretended that this shifting conduct
was but a compromise, and that their intention of flinging out the
new Habeas Corpus was to be overlooked, in consideration of their
facilitating the Navy Bill; a bargain about laws, not the more
incredible for its being shameful; and considering for what trifling
acts Mr. Pitt has stickled, while he acquiesced in the loss of such
an invaluable Bill, his patriotism will lie under the suspicion of
being more specious than real. Lord Winchelsea, Lord Lyttelton, Lord
Marchmont, and the adherents of the Duke and Fox, still opposed
the Navy Bill; but it was carried on the first division by 74 to
14. At the third reading, Lord Bath spoke upon it,--a speech so
miscellaneous and rambling, that it resembled his ancient orations,
except that in this he much commended Sir Robert Walpole. Lord
Denbigh attacked Lord Marchmont, and said, he remembered when that
Lord had been connected with a man of very different principles.
Lord Marchmont, thinking Lord Bolingbroke was the person alluded to,
treated his memory with great severity--though, by the way, Lord
Bolingbroke had died in friendship with him. Lord Denbigh, without
rising, said aloud, “He mistakes; I meant Sir William Windham.”
Marchmont was disconcerted. The other, after the debate, went up to
Lord Hardwicke, and said, “Sir William Windham put me under Lord
Marchmont in politics; and one day, in warm conversation, the latter
clapped his hand on my knee, and said, ‘Young man, remember I tell
you, this country will never be in a better situation while one of
this family is on the Throne.’” The Bill passed.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] It seems by this passage, that in George the Second’s reign,
the Lord Lieutenants of Ireland absented themselves, as a matter of
course, the second year of their Viceroyalty.--E.
[17] When they returned from Ireland, the Duke of Newcastle, who was
leaning from Pitt, was impatient to see Rigby. The latter went to
dine at Claremont. The Duke showed him the gardens and improvements;
and in the expansion of the folly of his heart, forgetting that it
was himself and not Rigby that was in transports of satisfaction, he
said, “Well! is not this better than going about and abusing me?”
In the following summer, Newcastle carried this disposition to the
Bedfords still further: at the Commencement at Cambridge he affected
to take extreme notice of Lord Tavistock, a modest, but plain lad,
cried up his beauty and the goodness of his coffee, and recommended
him to the University for successor to himself.
[18] See the First Volume of these Memoirs.
[19] The power of that Scotch favourite was so great at Leicester
House, that the Prince of Wales went three times to Agis, a new
tragedy written by John Home, and so indifferent a one, that nobody
else could bear to go to it twice. Sir Henry Erskine wrote a patriot
prologue to it. The Prince, from an affectation of popularity,
generally went to the play on Saturdays, the opera-night.
[20] Why the Author has chosen, in this just and spirited passage, to
introduce the word “sullen,” I am at a loss to discover; and believe
those who had the happiness to know the late Lord Camden will be as
much so.--E.