We

pectedly came into possession of near | lution, the effects of which will long three thousand pounds a year. Nor could all the malice of his enemies find any ground for reproach in the transaction. Nobody could call him a legacy hunter. Nobody could accuse him of seizing that to which others had a better claim. For he had never in his life seen Sir William; and Sir William had left no relation so near as to be entitled to form any expectations respecting the estate.

be felt by the whole human race.
speak of the act for imposing stamp
duties on the North American colonies.
The plan was eminently characteristic
of its author. Every feature of the
parent was found in the child. A timid
statesman would have shrunk from a
step, of which Walpole, at a time when
the colonies were far less powerful, had
said "He who shall propose it will
be a much bolder man than I." But
the nature of Grenville was insensible
to fear. A statesman of large views
would have felt that to lay taxes at
Westminster on New England and
New York, was a course opposed, not
indeed to the letter of the Statute Book,
or to any decision contained in the

good government, and to the spirit of the constitution. A statesman of large views would also have felt that ten times the estimated produce of the American stamps would have been dearly purchased by even a transient quarrel between the mother country and the colonies. But Grenville knew of no spirit of the constitution distinct from the letter of the law, and of no national interests except those which are expressed by pounds, shillings, and pence. That his policy might give birth to deep discontents in all the provinces, from the shore of the Great Lakes to the Mexican sea; that France and Spain might seize the opportunity of revenge; that the empire might be dismembered; that the debt, that debt with the amount of which he perpetually reproached Pitt, might, in consequence of his own policy, be doubled; these were possibilities which never occurred to that small, sharp mind.

The fortunes of Pitt seemed to flourish; but his health was worse than ever. We cannot find that, during the session which began in January 1765, he once appeared in parliament. He remained some months in profound retirement at Hayes, his favourite villa, scarcely moving except from his arm-Term Reports, but to the principles of chair to his bed, and from his bed to his armchair, and often employing his wife as his amanuensis in his most confidential correspondence. Some of his detractors whispered that his invisibility was to be ascribed quite as much to affectation as to gout. In truth his character, high and splendid as it was, wanted simplicity. With genius which did not need the aid of stage tricks, and with a spirit which should have been far above them, he had yet been, through life, in the habit of practising them. It was, therefore, now surmised that, having acquired all the consideration which could be derived from eloquence and from great services to the state, he had determined not to make himself cheap by often appearing in public, but, under the pretext of ill health, to surround himself with mystery, to emerge only at long intervals and on momentous occasions, and at other times to deliver his oracles only to a few favoured votaries, who were suffered to make pilgrimages to his shrine. If such were his object, it was for a time fully attained. Never was the magic of his name so powerful, never was he regarded by his country with such superstitious veneration, as during this year of silence and seclusion.

The Stamp Act will be remembered as long as the globe lasts. But, at the time, it attracted much less notice in this country than another Act which is now almost utterly forgotten. The King fell ill, and was thought to be in a dangerous state. His complaint, we believe, was the same which, at a later period, repeatedly incapacitated him While Pitt was thus absent from for the performance of his regal funcParliament, Grenville proposed a mea- tions. The heir apparent was only two sure destined to produce a great revo-years old. It was clearly proper to

make provision for the administration | whose fate it has been to lose almost of the government, in case of a mino- all the battles which they have fought, rity. The discussions on this point and yet to be reputed stout and skilful brought the quarrel between the court soldiers. Such captains were Coligni and the ministry to a crisis. The King and William the Third. We might, wished to be intrusted with the power perhaps, add Marshal Soult to the list. of naming a regent by will. The The bravery of the Duke of Cumberministers feared, or affected to fear, land was such as distinguished him that, if this power were conceded to even among the princes of his brave him, he would name the Princess house. The indifference with which he Mother, nay, possibly the Earl of Bute. rode about amidst musket balls and They, therefore, insisted on introducing cannon balls was not the highest proof into the bill words confining the King's of his fortitude. Hopeless maladies, choice to the royal family. Having horrible surgical operations, far from thus excluded Bute, they urged the unmanning him, did not even discomKing to let them, in the most marked pose him. With courage, he had the manner, exclude the Princess Dowager also. They assured him that the House of Commons would undoubtedly strike her name out, and by this threat they wrung from him a reluctant assent. In a few days, it appeared that the representations by which they had induced the King to put this gross and public affront on his mother were unfounded. The friends of the Princess in the House of Commons moved that her name should be inserted. The ministers could not decently attack the parent of their master. They hoped that the Opposition would come to their help, and put on them a force to which they would gladly have yielded. But the majority of the Opposition, though hating the Princess, hated Grenville more, beheld his embarrassmenting the minority of his nephews, there with delight, and would do nothing to extricate him from it. The Princess's name was accordingly placed in the list of persons qualified to hold the

regency.

The King's resentment was now at the height. The present evil seemed to him more intolerable than any other. Even the junta of Whig grandees could not treat him worse than he had been treated by his present ministers. In his distress, he poured out his whole heart to his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland. The Duke was not a man to be loved; but he was eminently a man to be trusted. He had an intrepid temper, a strong understanding, and a high sense of honour and duty. As a general, he belonged to a remarkable class of captains, captains, we mean,

virtues which are akin to courage. He
spoke the truth, was open in enmity
and friendship, and upright in all his
dealings. But his nature was hard;
and what seemed to him justice was
rarely tempered with mercy.
He was,
therefore, during many years one of
the most unpopular men in England.
The severity with which he had treated
the rebels after the battle of Culloden,
had gained for him the name of the
Butcher. His attempts to introduce
into the army of England, then in a
most disorderly state, the rigorous dis-
cipline of Potsdam, had excited still
stronger disgust. Nothing was too
bad to be believed of him. Many
honest people were so absurd as to
fancy that, if he were left Regent dur-

would be another smothering in the Tower. These feelings, however, had passed away. The Duke had been living, during some years, in retirement. The English, full of animosity against the Scots, now blamed his Royal Highness only for having left so many Camerons and Macphersons to be made gaugers and customhouse officers.

He was, therefore, at present, a favourite with his countrymen, and especially with the inhabitants of London.

He had little reason to love the King, and had shown clearly, though not obtrusively, his dislike of the system which had lately been pursued. But he had high and almost romantic notions of the duty which, as a prince of the blood, he owed to the head of his house. He determined to extricate

his nephew from bondage, and to effect | serving his country. The obscure and a reconciliation between the Whig party unconciliatory style of the answers and the throne, on terms honourable to which he returned to the overtures of both.

the Duke of Cumberland, may be ascribed to the embarrassment and vexation of a mind not at peace with itself. It is said that he mournfully exclaimed to Temple,

"Extinxti te meque, soror, populumque, patresque

Sidonios, urbemque tuam."

The prediction was but too just.

In this mind he set off for Hayes, and was admitted to Pitt's sick room; for Pitt would not leave his chamber, and would not communicate with any messenger of inferior dignity. And now began a long series of errors on the part of the illustrious statesman, errors which involved his country in difficulties and distresses more serious even than those from which his genius Finding Pitt impracticable, the Duke had formerly rescued her. His lan- of Cumberland advised the King to guage was haughty, unreasonable, al- submit to necessity, and to keep Grenmost unintelligible. The only thing ville and the Bedfords. It was, inwhich could be discerned through a deed, not a time at which offices could cloud of vague and not very gracious safely be left vacant. The unsettled phrases, was that he would not at that state of the government had produced moment take office. The truth, we a general relaxation through all the believe, was this. Lord Temple, who departments of the public service. was Pitt's evil genius, had just formed Meetings, which at another time would a new scheme of politics. Hatred of have been harmless, now turned to Bute and of the Princess had, it should riots, and rapidly rose almost to the seem, taken entire possession of Tem- dignity of rebellions. The Houses of ple's soul. He had quarrelled with Parliament were blockaded by the his brother George, because George Spitalfields weavers. Bedford House had been connected with Bute and the was assailed on all sides by a furious Princess. Now that George appeared rabble, and was strongly garrisoned to be the enemy of Bute and of the with horse and foot. Some people Princess, Temple was eager to bring attributed these disturbances to the about a general family reconciliation. friends of Bute, and some to the friends The three brothers, as Temple, Gren- of Wilkes. But, whatever might be ville, and Pitt, were popularly called, the cause, the effect was general insemight make a ministry, without lean-curity. Under such circumstances the ing for aid either on Bute or on the Whig connection. With such views, Temple used all his influence to dissuade Pitt from acceding to the propo- They answered by demanding from sitions of the Duke of Cumberland. him a promise on his royal word never Pitt was not convinced. But Temple more to consult Lord Bute. The prohad an influence over him such as no mise was given. They then demanded other person had ever possessed. They something more. Lord Bute's brother, were very old friends, very near rela- Mr. Mackenzie, held a lucrative office tions. If Pitt's talents and fame had in Scotland. Mr. Mackenzie must be been useful to Temple, Temple's purse dismissed. The King replied that the had formerly, in times of great need, office had been given under very pecubeen useful to Pitt. They had never liar circumstances, and that he had been parted in politics. Twice they promised never to take it away while had come into the cabinet together; he lived. Grenville was obstinate; twice they had left it together. Pitt and the King, with a very bad grace, could not bear to think of taking office yielded. without his chief ally. Yet he felt that he was doing wrong, that he was throwing away a great opportunity of

King had no choice. With bitter feelings of mortification, he informed the ministers that he meant to retain them.

The session of Parliament was over. The triumph of the ministers was complete. The King was almost as much a

prisoner as Charles the First had been, | course to the Duke of Cumberland; and the Duke of Cumberland again had recourse to Pitt. Pitt was really desirous to undertake the direction of affairs, and owned, with many dutiful

when in the Isle of Wight. Such were the fruits of the policy which, only a few months before, was represented as having for ever secured the throne against the dictation of insolent sub-expressions, that the terms offered by jects.

His Majesty's natural resentment showed itself in every look and word. In his extremity he looked wistfully towards that Whig connection, once the object of his dread and hatred. The Duke of Devonshire, who had been treated with such unjustifiable harshness, had lately died, and had been succeeded by his son, who was still a boy. The King condescended to express his regret for what had passed, and to invite the young Duke to court. The noble youth came, attended by his uncles, and was received with marked graciousness.

the King were all that any subject could desire. But Temple was impracticable; and Pitt, with great regret, declared that he could not, without the concurrence of his brother-inlaw, undertake the administration.

The Duke now saw only one way of delivering his nephew. An administration must be formed of the Whigs in opposition, without Pitt's help. The difficulties seemed almost insuperable. Death and desertion had grievously thinned the ranks of the party lately supreme in the state. Those among whom the Duke's choice lay might be divided into two classes, men too old for important offices, and men who had never been in any important office before. The cabinet must be composed of broken invalids or of raw recruits.

This was an evil, yet not an unmixed evil. If the new Whig statesmen had little experience in business and debate, they were, on the other hand, pure from the taint of that political immorality which had deeply infected their predecessors. Long prosperity had corrupted that great party which had expelled the Stuarts, limited the prerogatives of the Crown, and curbed the intolerance of the Hierarchy. Adversity had already produced a salu

This and many other symptoms of the same kind irritated the ministers. They had still in store for their sovereign an insult which would have provoked his grandfather to kick them out of the room. Grenville and Bedford demanded an audience of him, and read him a remonstrance of many pages, which they had drawn up with great care. His Majesty was accused of breaking his word, and of treating his advisers with gross unfairness. The Princess was mentioned in language by no means eulogistic. Hints were thrown out that Bute's head was in danger. The King was plainly told that he must not continue to show, as he had done, that he disliked the si-tary effect. On the day of the accestuation in which he was placed, that he must frown upon the Opposition, that he must carry it fair towards his ministers in public. He several times interrupted the reading, by declaring that he had ceased to hold any communication with Bute. But the ministers, disregarding his denial, went on; and the King listened in silence, almost choked by rage. When they ceased to read, he merely made a gesture expressive of his wish to be left alone. He afterwards owned that he thought he should have gone into a fit.

Driven to despair, he again had re

sion of George the Third, the ascendency of the Whig party terminated; and on that day the purification of the Whig party began. The rising chiefs of that party were men of a very different sort from Sandys and Winnington, from Sir William Yonge and Henry Fox. They were men worthy to have charged by the side of Hampden at Chalgrove, or to have exchanged the last embrace with Russell on the scaffold in Lincoln's Inn Fields. They carried into politics the same high principles of virtue which regulated their private dealings, nor would they stoop to promote even the noblest and

most salutary ends by means which | Duke of Cumberland now had rehonour and probity condemn. Such course. The Marquess consented to men were Lord John Cavendish, Sir take the treasury. Newcastle, so long George Savile, and others whom we the recognized chief of the Whigs, hold in honour as the second founders could not well be excluded from the of the Whig party, as the restorers of ministry. He was appointed keeper its pristine health and energy after half of the privy seal. A very honest cleara century of degeneracy. headed country gentleman, of the name of Dowdeswell, became Chancellor of the Exchequer. General Conway, who had served under the Duke of Cumberland, and was strongly attached to his royal highness, was made Secretary of State, with the lead in the House of Commons. A great Whig nobleman, in the prime of manhood, from whom much was at that time expected, Augustus Duke of Grafton, was the other Secretary.

The chief of this respectable band was the Marquess of Rockingham, a man of splendid fortune, excellent sense, and stainless character. He was indeed nervous to such a degree that, to the very close of his life, he never rose without great reluctance and embarrassment to address the House of Lords. But, though not a great orator, he had in a high degree some of the qualities of a statesman. He chose his friends well; and he had, The oldest man living could rein an extraordinary degree, the art of member no government so weak in attaching them to him by ties of the oratorical talents and in official expemost honourable kind. The cheerful rience. The general opinion was, that fidelity with which they adhered to the ministers might hold office during him through many years of almost the recess, but that the first day of hopeless opposition was less admirable debate in Parliament would be the last than the disinterestedness and delicacy day of their power. Charles Townswhich they showed when he rose to hend was asked what he thought of power. the new administration. "It is," said he, "mere lutestring; pretty summer wear. It will never do for the winter."

We are inclined to think that the use and the abuse of party cannot be better illustrated than by a parallel between two powerful connections of that time, the Rockinghams and the Bedfords. The Rockingham party was, in our view, exactly what a party should be. It consisted of men bound together by common opinions, by common public objects, by mutual esteem. That they desired to obtain, by honest and constitutional means, the direction of affairs they openly avowed. But, though often invited to accept the honours and emoluments of office, they steadily refused to do so on any conditions inconsistent with their principles. The Bedford party, as a party, had, as far as we can discover, no principle whatever. Rigby and Sandwich wanted public money, and thought that they should fetch a higher price jointly than singly. They therefore acted in concert, and prevailed on a much more important and a much better man than themselves to act with them.

It was to Rockingham that the

At this conjuncture Lord Rockingham had the wisdom to discern the value, and secure the aid, of an ally, who, to eloquence surpassing the eloquence of Pitt, and to industry which shamed the industry of Grenville, united an amplitude of comprehension to which neither Pitt nor Grenville could lay claim. A young Irishman had, some time before, come over to push his fortune in London. He had written much for the booksellers; but he was best known by a little treatise, in which the style and reasoning of Bolingbroke were mimicked with exquisite skill, and by a theory, of more ingenuity than soundness, touching the pleasures which we receive from the objects of taste. He had also attained a high reputation as a talker, and was regarded by the men of letters who supped together at the Turk's Head as the only match in conversation for Dr. Johnson. He now became private secretary to Lord Rockingham,