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the Picts or the Danes, the poor, proud | ably inclined towards them. Other aid must children of Leprosy and Hunger. It is a be called in. And where was other aid to slight circumstance, but deserves to be re- be found? corded, that in this year pamphleteers first ventured to print at length the names of the great men whom they lampooned. George the Second has always been the K His ministers had been Sir R- W Mr. P——, and the Duke of N But the libellers of George the Third, of the Princess Mother, and of Lord Bute, did not give quarter to a single vowel.

There was one man whose sharp and manly logic had often in debate been found a match for the lofty and impassioned rhetoric of Pitt, whose talents for jobbing were not inferior to his talents for debate, whose dauntless spirit shrank from no difficulty or danger, and who was as little troubled with scruples as with fears. Henry Fox, or nobody, could weather the storm which was It was supposed that Lord Temple se- about to burst. Yet was he a person to cretly encouraged the most scurrilous as- whom the court, even in that extremity, sailants of the government. In truth, those was unwilling to have recourse. He had who knew his habits tracked him as men always been regarded as a Whig of the track a mole. It was his nature to grub Whigs. He had been the friend and disciunderground. Whenever a heap of dirt ple of Walpole. He had long been conwas flung up, it might well be suspected nected by close ties with William Duke of that he was at work in some foul crooked Cumberland. By the Tories he was more labyrinth below. But Pitt turned away hated than any man living. So strong was from the filthy work of opposition, with their aversion to him, that when, in the the same scorn with which he had turned late reign, he attempted to form a party away from the filthy work of government. against the Duke of Newcastle, they had He had the magnanimity to proclaim every thrown all their weight into Newcastle's where the disgust which he felt at the in- scale. By the Scots, Fox was abhorred as sults offered by his own adherents to the the confidential friend of the conqueror of Scottish nation, and missed no opportunity Culloden. He was, on personal grounds, of extolling the courage and fidelity which most obnoxious to the Princess Mother. the Highland regiments had displayed through the whole war. But, though he disdained to use any but lawful and honorable weapons, it was well known that his fair blows were likely to be far more formidable than the privy thrusts of his brother-in-law's stiletto.

Bute's heart began to fail him. The Houses were about to meet. The treaty would instantly be the subject of discussion. It was probable that Pitt, the great Whig connection, and the multitude, would all be on the same side. The favorite had professed to hold in abhorrence those means by which preceding ministers had kept the House of Commons in good-humor. He now began to think that he had been too scrupulous. His Utopian visions were at an end. It was necessary, not only to bribe, but to bribe more shamelessly and flagitiously than his predecessors, in order to make up for lost time. A majority must be secured, no matter by what means. Could Grenville do this? Would he do it? His firmness and ability had not yet been tried in any perilous crisis. He had been generally regarded as a humble follower of his brother Temple, and of his brother-in-law Pitt, and was supposed, though with little reason, to be still favor

For he had, immediately after her husband's death, advised the late King to take the education of her son, the heir-apparent, entirely out of her hands. He had recently given, if possible, still deeper offence; for he had indulged, not without some ground, the ambitious hope that his beautiful sister-in-law, the Lady Sarah Lennox, might be queen of England. It had been observed that the King at one time rode every morning by the grounds of Holland House, and that, on such occasions, Lady Sarah, dressed like a shepherdess at a masquerade, was making hay close to the road, which was then separated by no wall from the lawn. On account of the part which Fox had taken in this singular loveaffair, he was the only member of the Priyy Council who was not summoned to the meeting at which his majesty announced his intended marriage with the Princess of Mecklenburg. Of all the statesmen of the age, therefore, it seemed that Fox was the last with whom Bute, the Tory, the Scot, the favorite of the Princess Mother, could, under any circumstances, act. Yet to Fox Bute was now compelled to apply.

Fox had many noble and amiable qualities, which in private life shone forth in full lustre, and made him dear to his chil

tain, by fair or foul means, a vote in favor of the peace. In consequence of this arrangement he became leader of the House of Commons; and Grenville, stifling his vexation as well as he could, sullenly acquiesced in the change.

dren, to his dependents, and to his friends; [ing situation, he should be rewarded with but as a public man he had no title to a peerage, of which he had long been deesteem. In him the vices which were sirous. He undertook on his side to obcommon to the whole school of Walpole appeared, not perhaps in their worst, but certainly in their most prominent form; for his parliamentary and official talents made all his faults conspicuous. His courage, his vehement temper, his contempt for appearances, led him to display much that others, quite as unscrupulous as himself, covered with a decent veil. He was the most unpopular of the statesmen of his time, not because he sinned more than many of them, but because he canted less. He felt his unpopularity; but he felt it after the fashion of strong minds. He became, not cautious, but reckless, and faced the rage of the whole nation with a scowl of inflexible defiance. He was born with a sweet and generous temper; but he had been goaded and baited into a savageness which was not natural to him, and which amazed and shocked those who knew him best. Such was the man to whom Bute, in extreme need, applied for succor.

Fox had expected that his influence would secure to the court the cordial support of some eminent Whigs who were his personal friends, particularly of the Duke of Cumberland and of the Duke of Devonshire. He was disappointed, and soon found that, in addition to all his other difficulties, he must reckon on the opposition of the ablest prince of the blood, and of the great house of Cavendish.

But he had pledged himself to win the battle; and he was not a man to go back. It was no time for squeamishness. Bute was made to comprehend that the ministry could be saved only by practising the tactics of Walpole to an extent at which Walpole would have stared. The Pay-Office was Such succor Fox was not unwilling to turned into a mart for votes. Hundreds of afford. Though by no means of an envious members were closeted there with Fox, and, temper, he had undoubtedly contemplated as there is too much reason to believe, departthe success and popularity of Pitt with bit- ed carrying with them the wages of infamy. ter mortification. He thought himself Pitt's It was affirmed by persons who had the best match as a debater, and Pitt's superior as a opportunities of obtaining information, that man of business. They had long been regard-twenty-five thousand pounds were thus paid ed as well paired rivals. They had started away in a single morning. The lowest fair in the career of ambition. They had bribe given, it was said, was a bank-note long run side by side. At length Fox had for two hundred pounds. taken the lead, and Pitt had fallen behind. Then had come a sudden turn of fortune, like that in Virgil's foot-race. Fox had stumbled in the mire, and had not only been defeated, but befouled. Pitt had reached the goal, and received the prize. The emoluments of the Pay-Office might induce the defeated statesman to submit in silence to the ascendency of his competitor, but could not satisfy a mind conscious of great powers, and sore from great vexations. As soon, therefore, as a party arose adverse to the war and to the supremacy of the great war-minister, the hopes of Fox began to revive. His feuds with the Princess Mother, with the Scots, with the Tories, he was ready to forget, if, by the help of his old enemies, he could now regain the importance which he had lost, and confront Pitt on equal terms.

Intimidation was joined with corruption. All ranks, from the highest to the lowest, were to be taught that the King would be obeyed. The Lords-Lieutenant of several counties were dismissed. The Duke of Devonshire was especially singled out as the victim by whose fate the magnates of England were to take warning. His wealth, rank, and influence, his stainless private character, and the constant attachment of his family to the house of Hanover, did not secure him from gross personal indignity. It was known that he disapproved of the course which the government had taken; and it was accordingly determined to humble the Prince of the Whigs, as he had been nicknamed by the Princess Mother. He went to the palace to pay his duty. Tell him,' said the King to a page, that I will not see him.' The page hesitated. 'Go The alliance was, therefore, soon con- to him,' said the King, and tell him those cluded. Fox was assured that, if he would very words.' The message was delivered. pilot the government out of its embarrass-The Duke tore off his gold key, and went

away boiling with anger. His relations The great day arrived. The discusion had who were in office instantly resigned. A lasted some time, when a loud huzza was few days later, the King called for the list heard in Palace-yard. The noise came of privy-councillors, and with his own hand nearer and nearer, up the stairs, through struck out the Duke's name. the lobby. The door opened, and from the In this step there was at least courage, midst of a shouting multitude came forth though little wisdom or good-nature. But Pitt, borne in the arms of his attendants. as nothing was too high for the revenge of His face was thin and ghastly, his limbs the court, so also was nothing too low. A swathed in flannels, his crutch in his hand. persecution, such as had never been known The bearers set him down within the bar. before and has never been known since, His friends instantly surrounded him, and raged in every public department. Great with their help he crawled to his seat near numbers of humble and laborious clerks the table. In this condition he spoke three were deprived of their bread, not because hours and a half against the peace. Durthey had neglected their duties, not being that time he was repeatedly forced to cause they had taken an active part against sit down and use cordials. It may well be the ministry, but merely because they had supposed that his voice was faint, that his owed their situations to the recommenda- action was languid, and that his speech, tion of some nobleman or gentleman who though occasionally brilliant and impreswas against the peace. The proscription extended to tide-waiters, to gaugers, to doorkeepers. One poor man to whom a pension had been given for his gallantry in a fight with smugglers, was deprived of it because he had been befriended by the Duke of Grafton. An aged widow, who, on account of her husband's services in the navy, had, many years before, been made housekeeper to a public office, was dismissed from her situation, because it was imagined that she was distantly connected by marriage with the Cavendish family. The public clamor, as may well be supposed, grew daily louder and louder. But the louder it grew, the more resolutely did Fox go on with the work which he had be-mind was unalterably made up. Under no gun. His old friends could not conceive what had possessed him. 'I could forgive,' said the Duke of Cumberland, Fox's political vagaries, but I am quite confounded by his inhumanity. Surely he used to be the best-natured of men.'

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At last Fox went so far as to take a legal opinion on the question, whether the patents granted by George the Second were binding on George the Third. It is said that, if his colleagues had not flinched, he would at once have turned out the tellers of the Exchequer and justices in Eyre. Meanwhile the Parliament met. The ministers, more hated by the people than ever, were secure of a majority, and they had also reason to hope that they would have the advantage in the debates as well as in the divisions. For Pitt was confined to his chamber by a severe attack of gout. His friends moved to defer the consideration of the treaty till he should be able to attend. But the motion was rejected.

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sive, was feeble when compared with his best oratorical performances. But those who remembered what he had done, and who saw what he suffered, listened to him with emotion stronger than any that mere eloquence can produce. He was unable to stay for the division, and was carried away from the House amidst shouts as loud as those which had announced his arrival.

A large majority approved the peace. The exultation of the court was boundless. Now,' exclaimed the Princess Mother, my son is really King. The young sovereign spoke of himself as freed from the bondage in which his grandfather had been held. On one point, it was announced, his

circumstances whatever should those Whig grandees, who had enslaved his predecessors and endeavored to enslave himself, be restored to power.

His vaunting was premature. The real strength of the favorite was by no means proportioned to the number of votes which he had, on one particular division, been able to command. He was soon again in difficulties. The most important part of his budget was a tax on cider. This measure was opposed, not only by those who were generally hostile to his administration, but also by many of his supporters. The name of excise had always been hateful to the Tories. One of the chief crimes of Walpole, in their eyes, had been his partiality for this mode of raising money. The Tory Johnson had in his Dictionary given so scurrilous a definition of the word 'Excise,' that the Commissioners of Excise had seriously thought of prosecuting him. The counties which the new impost particularly

affected hid always been Tory counties. they regarded him broke forth as soon as It was the boast of John Philips, the poet the crisis seemed to be over. Some of of the English vintage, that the Cider-land them attacked him about the accounts of had ever been faithful to the throne, and the Pay-Office. Some of them rudely inthat all the pruning-hooks of her thousand terrupted him when speaking, by laughter orchards had been beaten into swords for and ironical cheers. He was naturally dethe service of the ill-fated Stuarts. The sirous to escape from so disagreeable a siteffect of Bute's fiscal scheme was to pro- uation, and demanded the peerage which had duce an union between the gentry and yeo- been promised as the reward of his services. manry of the Cider-land and the Whigs of It was clear that there must be some the capital. Herefordshire and Worces- change in the composition of the ministry. tershire were in a flame. The city of Lon- But scarcely any, even of those who, from don, though not so directly interested, was, their situation, might be supposed to be in if possible, still more excited. The debates all the secrets of the government, anticipaon this question irreparably damaged the ted what really took place. To the amazegovernment. Dashwood's financial state-ment of the Parliament and the nation, it was suddenly announced that Bute had resigned.

ment had been confused and absurd beyond belief, and had been received by the House with roars of laughter. He had sense Twenty different explanations of this enough to be conscious of his unfitness for strange step were suggested. Some attrithe high situation which he held, and ex-buted it to profound design, and some to claimed, in a comical fit of despair, 'What sudden panic. Some said that the lamshall I do? The boys will point at me in poons of the opposition had driven the Earl the street, and cry, "There goes the worst from the field; some that he had taken chancellor of the exchequer that ever was.'" office only in order to bring the war to a George Grenville came to the rescue, and close, and had always meant to retire when spoke strongly on his favorite theme, the that object had been accomplished. He profusion with which the late war had been publicly assigned ill health as his reason for carried on. That profusion, he said, had quitting business, and privately commade taxes necessary. He called on the plained that he was not cordially seconded gentlemen opposite to him to say where by his colleagues; and that Lord Mansfield, they would have a tax laid, and dwelt on in particular, whom he had himself brought this topic with his usual prolixity. Let into the cabinet, gave him no support in the them tell me where,' he repeated, in a mo- House of Peers. Lord Mansfield was, innotonous and somewhat fretful tone. 'Ideed, far too sagacious not to perceive that say, sir, let them tell me where. I repeat it, sir; I am entitled to say to them-tell me where.' Unluckily for him, Pitt had come down to the House that night, and had been bitterly provoked by the reflections thrown on the war. He revenged himself by murmuring, in a whine resembling Grenville's, a line of a well-known song, 'Gentle shepherd, tell me where.' 'If,' cried Grenville, gentlemen are to be treated in this way' -Pitt, as was his fashion when he meant to mark extreme contempt, rose deliberately, made his bow, and walked out of the House, leaving his brother-in-law in convulsions of rage, and every body else in convulsions of laughter. It was long before Grenville lost the nick-In the earlier part of his career, therefore, name of the gentle shepherd.

But the ministry had vexations still more serious to endure. The hatred which the Tories and Scots bore to Fox was implacable. In a moment of extreme peril, they had consented to put themselves under his guidance. But the aversion with which

Bute's situation was one of great peril, and far too timorous to thrust himself into peril for the sake of another. The probability, however, is, that Bute's conduct on this occasion, like the conduct of most men on most occasions, was determined by mixed motives. We suspect that he was sick of office; for this is a feeling much more common among ministers than persons who see public life from a distance are disposed to believe. And nothing could be more natural than that this feeling should take possession of the mind of Bute. In general, a statesman climbs by slow degrees. Many laborious years elapse before he reaches the topmost pinnacle of preferment.

he is constantly lured on by seeing something above him. During his ascent he gradually becomes inured to the annoyances which belong to a life of ambition. By the time that he has attained the highest point, he has become patient of labor and callous of abuse. He is kept constant to his voca

tion, in spite of all its discomforts, at first | Their principles were fundamentally dif by hope, and at last by habit. It was not ferent. so with Bute. His whole public life lasted little more than two years. On the day on which he became a politician he became a cabinet minister. In a few months he was, both in name and in show, chief of the administration. Greater than he had been he could not be. If what he already possessed was vanity and vexation of spirit, no delusion remained to entice him onward. He had been cloyed with the pleasures of ambition before he had been seasoned to its pains. His habits had not been such as were likely to fortify his mind against obloquy and public hatred. He had reached his forty-eighth year in dignified ease, without knowing, by personal experience, what it was to be ridiculed and slandered. All at once, without any previous initiation, he had found himself exposed to such a storm of invective and satire as had never burst on the head of any statesman. The emoluments of office were now nothing to him: for he had just succeeded to a princely property by the death of his father-in-law. All the honors which could be bestowed on him he had already secured. He had obtained the Garter for himself, and a British peerage for his son. He seems also to have imagined, that by quitting the treasury he should escape from danger and abuse without really resigning power, and should still be able to exercise in private supreme influence over the royal mind.

Whatever may have been his motives, he retired. Fox at the same time took refuge in the House of Lords; and George Grenville became first lord of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer.

Bute was a Tory. Grenville would have been very angry with any person who should have denied his claim to be a Whig. He was more prone to tyrannical measures than Bute: but he loved tyranny only when disguised under the forms of constitutional liberty. He mixed up, after a fashion then not very unusual, the theories of the republicans of the seventeenth century with the technical maxims of English law, and thus succeeded in combining anarchical speculation with arbitrary practice. The voice of the people was the voice of God; but the only legitimate organ through which the voice of the people could be uttered was the Parliament. All power was from the people; but to the Parliament the whole power of the people had been delegated. No Oxonian divine had ever, even in the years which immediately followed the Restoration, demanded for the King so abject, so unreasoning a homage, as Grenville, on what he considered as the purest Whig principles, demanded for the Parliament. As he wished to see the Parliament despotic over the nation, so he wished to see it also despotic over the court. In his view, the prime minister, possessed of the confidence of the House of Commons, ought to be mayor of the palace. The King was a mere Childeric or Chilperic, who might well think himself lucky in being permitted to enjoy such handsome apartments at St. James's, and so fine a park at Windsor.

Thus the opinions of Bute and those of Grenville were diametrically opposed. Nor was there any private friendship between the two statesmen. Grenville's nature was not forgiving; and he well remembered how, a few months before, he had been compelled to yield the lead of the House of Commons to Fox.

We are inclined to think, on the whole, that the worst administration which has governed England since the Revolution was that of George Grenville. His public acts may be classed under two heads, outrages on the liberty of the people, and outrages on the dignity of the crown.

We believe that those who made this arrangement fully intended that Grenville should be a mere puppet in the hands of Bute; for Grenville was as yet very imperfectly known even to those who had observed him long. He passed for a mere official drudge; and he had all the industry, the minute accuracy, the formality, the tediousness, which belong to the character. But he had other qualities which had not yet shown themselves-devouring ambition, dauntless courage, self-confidence amount- He began by making war on the press. ing to presumption, and a temper which John Wilkes, member of parliament for could not endure opposition. He was not Aylesbury, was singled out for persecution. disposed to be any body's tool; and he had Wilkes had, till very lately, been known no attachment, political or personal, to chiefly as one of the most profane, licenBute. The two men had, indeed, nothing tious, and agreeable rakes about town. He in common, except a strong propensity was a man of taste, reading, and engaging towards harsh and unpopular courses. manners. His sprightly conversation was

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