LORD L⸺.
As the reader has been introduced among the nobility, it may be permitted
to linger with them a little longer, and pay a tribute of respect,
esteem, and gratitude to one nobleman, who was learned himself, and a
real friend and patron of learning in others.—Such was Lord L.
This appears no unsuitable opportunity of making mention of an _Opus
Magnum_, in which the Sexagenarian was very materially concerned, and
which, as well it might, had the countenance of the Nobleman of whom
mention is about to be made, and of every other real friend of the
constitution of his country in church and state.
There was a time in England, and a dire time it was, when the contagion
of the French revolution had so infected our purer atmosphere, that the
disloyal, ill-designing, and more profligate part of the community,
dared to use the language of violence, and of menace, to overawe and
intimidate those whose sentiments they knew to be adverse to their own;
who had the presumption to prophesy, that “church and state prejudices
were coming to a speedy issue in this country;” who had the insolence to
use all their efforts to check and suppress the circulation of what the
honest advocates of truth and order, wrote and published in vindication
of their principles; and even proceeded so far as to hold out threats to
the individuals themselves, whom they affected, with equal absurdity and
impertinence, to denominate “Alarmists.”
A sevenfold shield was wanted, beneath the protection of which, the
insidious and poisonous darts of the assailants might be repelled, and
the weapons of those who fought for the good old cause, might be wielded
with boldness and due effect.
Before this, the channels of communication with the public were
preoccupied by a faction; the pure streams of truth were either
obstructed in their progress, or contaminated in the very source; the
representations exhibited of things as they actually were, by the
faithful pencils of loyalty and true patriotism, were misrepresented,
defaced, defamed, ridiculed, and treated with every mark of ignominy.
This powerful shield was at length produced; it was formed with no
ordinary skill and labour, and proved of no common strength. From this
auspicious moment, matters began to assume a very different aspect.
Religion and loyalty were enabled to defy, and to rise victorious over
infidelity and anarchy. The strong clear voice of truth was heard, and
virtue triumphed.
The subject is seducing; and memory lingers with pride and fondness on
the eventful period. Public gratitude followed the manifestation of
public benefit. The individuals who most distinguished themselves in
the effectual extension of this shield, as well as by the ardour, and
fortitude, and dexterity with which they used the weapons entrusted to
them by their country, were not suffered to go without their reward.
But the most grateful of all distinctions, were the praises of such men
as the venerable Archbishop Moore; the protection, and countenance,
and friendship of a Pitt, of Bishops Barrington, Porteus, Tomline; the
courtesies of a Windham; and the friendship of a Loughborough.
Of political connections, prejudices, and pursuits, it is not here
intended to say any more—to do so, would open far too wide a field; yet
one remark ought to be made with respect to this Noble Lord, that he was
not the less reluctant to serve a man of learning, from the circumstance
of his differing in opinion materially from himself, on certain political
questions of great magnitude. For example, nothing is more notorious than
the warm, strenuous, and active part which Lord Loughborough took against
Mr. Hastings; yet he not only endured, but admitted to his table, and, in
some degree, to his confidence, those who he well knew had been zealous
advocates of that illustrious person—had spoken, written, and, if we may
so say, had fought in his behalf. Other instances might be adduced.
Perhaps he is the only Lord Chancellor, at least of modern times, who
gave preferment to literary men, merely as such, and with no other
introduction or recommendation than the merit of their publications. His
predecessor, Thurlow, had the character of being friendly to literary
men; but there is no example on record of his having acted with similar,
and, if the expression be warranted, with such disinterested liberality,
with the exception, perhaps, of Bishop Horsley alone. He gave, indeed,
to ⸺, the translator of Æschylus, a prebendal stall in the Cathedral
Church of Norwich; but this gentleman had the additional claim of having
been his school-fellow, at the very seminary of which he was afterwards
master, namely, S⸺, in Norfolk. Even on this occasion, he did not act
very graciously.
Mr. P. on receiving notice of the favour intended for him, immediately
came to town, to make personal acknowledgments of his gratitude.
He called several times at Thurlow’s house, but could never obtain
admission; at length, he applied to his friend and neighbour, Sir John,
afterwards Lord Wodehouse, and begged of him to see the Chancellor in the
House of Peers, and ask when he might have the honour of waiting upon his
Lordship, as he had been some days in town, and was anxious to return.
Sir John accordingly did this, when the only answer he received was, “Let
him go home again, I want none of his Norfolk bows.”
The manners of Lord Loughborough, on the contrary, were conciliating and
agreeable, and there was a kindness in his manner of granting a favour,
which greatly enhanced its value. He would often say, when he gave away
preferment, and more particularly to those whose merit was their only
recommendation to him, “Go to my Secretary, and desire him to prepare the
presentation for my Fiat immediately; or I shall have some Duke or great
man make application, whom I shall not be able to refuse.”
He was also particularly desirous of so giving his preferment away, that,
if practicable, the parishioners themselves might be satisfied. More than
once, he has disappointed friends for whom he intended to provide, in
consequence of petitions from parishioners, in favour of some meritorious
curate.
He was remarkably acute in discerning characters, and in appreciating
the justice of the pretensions to literary reputation of those who were
introduced to him. No work of particular eminence appeared, without
his desiring to know the author, if he was not already acquainted with
him; and when in the enjoyment of his exalted office, would often deny
himself to individuals of high rank, and prefer spending the evening in
social conversation with literary friends. He was very fond of theatrical
exhibitions, and more particularly so of Mrs. Siddons; his conversation
on such subjects, at his own table, was particularly lively, and
indicative of a refined taste and sound judgment.
He was very curious also, with respect to all new publications of voyages
and travels; but was much inclined to exercise a scrutinizing jealousy
and suspicion on the subject of their accuracy. He knew Bruce well,
and respected him; but often indulged in a good humoured laughter at
some of the more wonderful parts of his narrative. He discovered much
anxiety and curiosity when Park’s Travels first appeared; but as it
was universally known that Bryan Edwards had a principal share in the
arrangement and composition of that work, he without reserve expressed
some doubts on certain passages.
Our Sexagenarian was once reading to him from Park’s book the following
paragraph:
“My guide, who was a little way before me, wheeled his horse round in a
moment, calling out something in the Foulah language, which I did not
understand. I enquired in Mandingo what be meant.—_Wara billi, billi!_
a very large lion, said he; and made signs for me to ride away. But my
horse was too much fatigued, so we rode slowly past the bush from which
the animal had given us the alarm. Not seeing any thing myself, however,
I thought my guide had been mistaken, when the Foulah suddenly put his
hand to his mouth, exclaiming, _Soubah an allahi!_ God preserve us! and
to my great surprise, I then perceived a large _red lion_ at a short
distance from the bush, with his head couched between his fore-paws.”
On hearing this last part of the sentence, Lord Loughborough laughed
heartily, and exclaimed with good humour, “I suppose it was the _Red Lion
of Brentford_.”
He had once a poor scholar at his table, who, among various things, had
published some which were acceptable to his Lordship. He introduced the
subject of the author’s different works, and, addressing him, observed,
“I liked such a book of yours exceedingly—it did you much credit;
but what could possibly induce you to print ⸺” here he named another
book. The guest bowed, and merely replied, “Res angusta domi.” Lord
Loughborough replied, “I am perfectly satisfied with your answer.”
It has, however, been imputed to Lord Loughborough, that he gave the
literary men whom he distinguished, a mouthful only; and did not, even
with respect to the few for whom he professed the greatest esteem and
regard, make any efforts to raise them to the more elevated honours of
their profession. There may be some truth in this, and more particularly
so, as to one individual, who enjoyed, very deservedly, much of his
society and friendship. Thurlow certainly did not lose sight of Horsley
till he saw him seated upon the Episcopal bench. But at that period, the
public attention was much directed to the controversy between Priestley
and Dr. Horsley: it was well known that Thurlow hated Priestley from
the bottom of his heart; and, indeed, whatever he might be practically
himself, he on all occasions manifested a consistent determination
to support the Established Church. He was familiarly acquainted with
Beaufoy, the Member for Yarmouth, in Norfolk, who was known to be a
strict Dissenter, and the conversation one day turning on the subject of
religion, he said to Beaufoy, “I would support your d⸺d religion, if it
was that of the state.”
Beaufoy ought to have known him better; but having had a Yarmouth
Clergyman very particularly recommended to him by his Norfolk
Constituents, he thought he could not more effectually promote his
clients’ interest, than by introducing him to Thurlow, with whom he
was going to dine. The scheme, however, failed altogether; for after
the first salutations, Thurlow turned to Beaufoy, and asked him why he
brought his d⸺d parson to him.
The contrast between such rude and unfeeling abruptness, and the
courteous and conciliating manners of Lord Loughborough, is particularly
striking. The latter always received the humblest clergyman with
graciousness and affability, and has often been heard to lament that
his situation as Chancellor was very painful to him, from his being
perpetually compelled to refuse petitions which had the strongest claims
on his humanity. He would facetiously observe, that his greater livings
gave him no trouble; their designation was either anticipated, or easily
determined. But for his smaller livings, he had always a multitude of
applications, and seldom or ever one, without “seven or eight small
children at the end of it.”
This tribute of gratitude and sincere attachment, is most willingly
rendered to a man, who, whatever might be his failings in the opinion
of his political adversaries, must have had the unqualified praise of
all, for acuteness, sagacity, and for all the best powers of intellect.
He was also a most polished gentleman; he bore his high honours
without insolence, and without oppressing his inferiors by an affected
condescension, conciliating all who approached him by his affability and
graciousness of manner.
Asclapone medico, usus sum valde familiariter, ejusque cum
consuetudo mihi jucunda fuit, tum ars etiam, quam sum expertus
in valetudine meorum. In qua mihi cum ipsa scientia, tum etiam
fidelitate, benevolentiaque satisfecit.—Hunc igitur tibi
commendo. Oh si intelligat diligenter me scripsisse de sese.
Erit mihi vehementer gratum.