STRAWBERRY HILL, _Feb._ 6, 1780.
I write only when I have facts to send. Detached scenes there have been
in different provinces: they will be collected soon into a drama in St.
Stephen's Chapel. One or two and twenty counties, and two or three
towns, have voted petitions.[1] But in Northamptonshire Lord Spencer
was disappointed, and a very moderate petition was ordered. The same
happened at Carlisle. At first, the Court was struck dumb, but have
begun to rally. Counter-protests have been signed in Hertford and
Huntingdon shires, in Surrey and Sussex. Last Wednesday a meeting was
summoned in Westminster Hall: Charles Fox harangued the people finely
and warmly; and not only a petition was voted, but he was proposed for
candidate for that city at the next general election, and was accepted
joyfully. Wilkes was his zealous advocate: how few years since a public
breakfast was given at Holland House to support Lord Luttrell against
Wilkes! Charles Fox and his brother rode thence at the head of their
friends to Brentford. Ovid's "Metamorphoses" contains not stranger
transformations than party can work.
[Footnote 1: These petitions were chiefly for economical reform, for
which Burke was preparing a Bill.]
I must introduce a new actor to you, a Lord George
Gordon,--metamorphosed a little, too, for his family were Jacobites and
Roman Catholics: he is the Lilburne of the Scottish Presbyterians, and
an apostle against the Papists. He dresses, that is, wears long lank
hair about his shoulders, like the first Methodists; though I take the
modern ones to be no Anti-Catholics. This mad lord, for so all his
family have been too, and are, has likewise assumed the patronage of
Ireland. Last Thursday he asked an audience of the King, and, the moment
he was admitted into the closet, began reading an Irish pamphlet, and
continued for an hour, till it was so dark he could not see; and then
left the pamphlet, exacting a promise on royal honour that his Majesty
would finish it. Were I on the throne, I would make Dr. Monro a Groom of
my Bedchamber: indeed it has been necessary for some time; for, of the
King's lords, Lord Bolingbroke is in a mad-house, and Lord Pomfret and
my nephew ought to be there. The last, being fond of onions, has lately
distributed bushels of that root to his Militia; Mr. Wyndham will not be
surprised.
By the tenor of the petitions you would think we were starving; yet
there is a little coin stirring. Within this week there has been a cast
at hazard at the Cocoa tree, the difference of which amounted to a
hundred and four-score thousand pounds. Mr. O'Birne, an Irish gamester,
had won one hundred thousand pounds of a young Mr. Harvey of Chigwell,
just started from a midshipman[1] into an estate by his elder brother's
death. O'Birne said, "You can never pay me." "I can," said the youth;
"my estate will sell for the debt." "No," said O.; "I will win ten
thousand--you shall throw for the odd ninety." They did, and Harvey won.
[Footnote 1: Mr. Harvey was afterwards Sir Eliab Harvey, one of Nelson's
captains at Trafalgar. But unfortunately he so violently resented the
appointment of Lord Cochrane, who was only a post-captain, to carry out
the attack on the French fleet in Basque Roads, which he himself, who
was an admiral, had also suggested, and used such violent and
insubordinate language towards Lord Gambier, the Commander-in-chief
(who, though a most incompetent officer, had had nothing to do with the
appointment), that it was unavoidable that a court-martial should
sentence him to be cashiered. He was, however, restored to his rank
shortly afterwards. He was member of Parliament for Essex for many
years, and died in 1830.]
However, as it is a little necessary to cast about for resources, it is
just got abroad, that about a year ago we took possession of a trifling
district in India called the Province of Oude,[1] which contains four
millions of inhabitants, produces between three and four millions of
revenue, and has an army of 30,000 men: it was scarce thought of
consequence enough to deserve an article in the newspapers. If you are
so _old-style_ as to ask how we came to take possession, I answer, by
the new law of nations; by the law by which Poland was divided. You will
find it in the future editions of Grotius, tit. "Si une terre est à la
bienséance d'un grand Prince." Oude appertained by that very law to the
late Sujah Dowla. His successors were weak men, which _in India_ is
incapacity. Their Majesties the East India Company, whom God long
preserve, have _succeeded_.
[Footnote 1: Warren Hastings claimed large arrears of tribute from Asaph
ul Dowlah, the Nabob of Oude; but Walpole was misinformed when he
understood that he had in consequence annexed the province--a measure
which was never adopted till the spring of 1857, when its annexation by
Lord Dalhousie was among the causes that led to the outbreak of the
mutiny.]
This petty event has ascertained the existence of a certain being, who,
till now, has not been much more than a matter of faith--the Grand Lama.
There are some affairs of trade between the sovereigns of Oude and his
Holiness the Lama. Do not imagine the East India Company have leisure to
trouble their heads about religion. Their commanding officer
corresponded with the Tartar Pope, who, it seems, is a very sensible
man. The Attorney-General asked this officer, who is come over, how the
Lama wrote. "Oh," said he, "like any person."--"Could I see his
letters?" said Mr. Wedderburne.--"Upon my word," said the officer, "when
the business was settled, I threw them into the fire." However, I hear
that somebody, not quite so mercantile, has published one of the Lama's
letters in the "Philosophical Transactions." Well! when we break in
Europe, we may pack up and remove to India, and be emperors again!
Do you believe me, my good Sir, when I tell you all these strange tales?
Do you think me distracted, or that your country is so? Does not this
letter seem an olio composed of ingredients picked out of the history of
Charles I., of Clodius and Sesostris, and the "Arabian Nights"? Yet I
could have coloured it higher without trespassing on truth; but when I,
inured to the climate of my own country, can scarcely believe what I
hear and see, how should you, who converse only with the ordinary race
of men and women, give credit to what I have ventured to relate, merely
because in forty years I have constantly endeavoured to tell you nothing
but truth? Moreover, I commonly reserve passages that are not of public
notoriety, not having the smallest inclination to put the credulity of
foreign post-offices to the test. I would have them think that we are
only mad with valour, and that Lord Chatham's cloak has been divided
into shreds no bigger than a silver penny amongst our soldiers and
sailors. Adieu!
_RODNEY'S VICTORY--WALPOLE INCLINES TO WITHDRAW FROM AMUSEMENTS._