entertained hopes of reducing to the ordinary rate of two shillings in the pound. He discovered, however, that this reduction could not be effected without trenching on the sinking fund, and thus depreciating the public securities, and therefore he determined to continue the tax at three shillings. This resolution was resisted by some violent members, whom Lord Orford sarcastically terms "the sad refuse of all the last Opposition," who contended that the land was already too much burdened to admit of the continuance of a tax at three shillings. Mr. Pelham and his adherents, in reply, alluded to the great rise in the value of land, which, they said, rendered reduction unnecessary. The arguments and influence of the Minister prevailed, and the resolution was carried in the committee by 176 against 50. On the report the opposition was still more feeble; and Mr. Sydenham concluded a speech which closed the discussion, by a ludicrous parody of the well-known epitaph on Sir John Vanbrugh, which he applied to Mr. Pelham— "Lie heavy on him, land, for he The resolution was finally adopted by a majority of 58 against 19.— THE FIRST DUKE OF NEWCASTLE. The Duke and the Leadership of the Commons.-The Duke became First Lord of the Treasury on the death of his brother, Henry Pelham, in 1754. He had some difficulty in finding a leader of the House of Commons, and opened negotiations with Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland. Macaulay writes: "The proposition which he made was that Fox should be Secretary of State, with the lead of the House of Commons; that the disposal of the secret service money-or, in plain words, the business of buying members of Parliament-should be left to the First Lord of the Treasury; but that Fox should be exactly informed of the way in which this fund was employed. To these conditions Fox assented. But the next day everything was in confusion. Newcastle had changed his mind. The conversation which took place between Fox and the duke is one of the most curious in English history. My brother,' said Newcastle, 'when he was at the Treasury, never told anybody what he did with the secret service money. No more will I.' The answer was obvious. Pelham had been not only First Lord of the Treasury, but also manager of the House of Commons; and it was therefore unnecessary for him to confide to any other person his dealings with the members of that House. 'But how, said Fox, can I lead in the Commons without information on this head ? How can I talk to gentlemen when I do not know which of them have received gratifications and which have not? And who,' he continued, ‘is to have the disposal of places?' 'I myself,' said the duke. How then am I to manage the House of Commons ?' 'Oh, let the members of the House of Commons come to me!' Fox then mentioned the general election which was approaching, and asked how the ministerial boroughs were to be filled up. Do not trouble yourself,' said Newcastle; that is all settled.' This was too much for human nature to bear. Fox refused to accept the Secretaryship of State on such terms; and the duke confided the management of the House of Commons to a dull, harmless man, whose name is almost forgotten in our time, Sir Thomas Robinson. 'Sir Thomas Robinson lead us!' said Pitt to Fox. The duke might as well send his jack-boot to lead us."" 6 A Living Caricature.-There is scarcely any public man in our history of whose manners and conversation so many particulars have been preserved. Single stories may be unfounded or exaggerated. But all the stories about him, whether told by people who were perpetually seeing him in Parliament and attending his levee in Lincoln's Inn-fields, or by Grub-street writers who never had more than a glimpse of his star through the windows of his gilded coach, are of the same character. Horace Walpole and Smollett differed in their tastes and opinions as much as two human beings could differ. They kept quite different society. Walpole played at cards with countesses, and corresponded with ambassadors. Smollett passed his life surrounded by printers' devils and famished scribblers. Yet Walpole's duke and Smollett's duke are as like as if they were both from one hand. Smollett's Newcastle runs out of his dressing-room with his face covered with soapsuds to embrace the Moorish envoy. Walpole's Newcastle pushes his way into the Duke of Grafton's sick room to kiss the old nobleman's plasters. No man was so unmercifully satirised. But in truth he was himself a satire ready made. All that the art of the satirist does for other men, nature had done for him. Whatever was absurd about him stood out with grotesque prominence from the rest of the character. He was a living, moving, talking caricature. His gait was a shuffling trot; his utterance a rapid stutter; he was always in a hurry; he was never in time; he abounded in fulsome caresses and in hysterical tears. His oratory resembled that of Justice Shallow. It was nonsense effervescent with animal spirits and impertinence. his ignorance many anecdotes remain, some well authenticated, some probably invented at coffee-houses, but all exquisitely characteristic. Oh-yes-yes-to be sure-Annapolis must be defended-troops must be sent to Annapolis-Pray where is Annapolis ?" 'Cape Breton an island! wonderful!-show it me on the map. So it is, sure enough. My dear sir, you always bring us good news. I must go and tell the King that Cape Breton is an island." And this man was, during nearly thirty years, Secretary of State, and, during near ten years, First Lord of the Treasury-Macaulay on Horace Walpole. Somebody said t'other day, "Yet sure the Duke of Newcastle does not want parts." "No," replied Lord Talbot, "for he has done without them for forty years."-Walpole's Letters to Mann. 66 66 THE EARL OF HARDWICKE. Of A Distinguished Judge.-Sir Philip Yorke, who has previously been referred to as Attorney-General in Sir Robert Walpole's Administration, was made Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench in 1733, and created a peer by the title of Baron Hardwicke. Being afterwards elevated to the woolsack, he remained Lord Chancellor for twenty years, and he is distinguished as never having had a decision reversed, and only three even appealed against. Very Peremptory.-On the day, writes Campbell, that Lord Talbot died (Feb. 14th, 1737), the great seal was delivered up by his executors into the hands of George II. Lord Hardwicke was now regarded as decidedly the most useful man to be introduced into the Cabinet, and to preside on the woolsack as Chancellor. But, there being some difficulty as to the accompanying arrangements, the great seal remained for a whole week in the personal custody of the King. Meanwhile, as Parliament was sitting, and there was no Lord Chancellor or Lord Keeper, it was necessary to provide a Speaker for the House of Lords, and the great seal, while in the King's possession, was (somewhat irregularly) put to a commission authorising Lord Hardwicke to act in that capacity. He accordingly did act for several days as Speaker, without being Chancellor. During this interval it is related that Walpole, resisting some of Hardwicke's demands, said to him by way of threat, "I must offer the seals to Fazakerly!" "Fazakerly!" exclaimed Hardwicke, impossible! he is certainly a Tory-perhaps a Jacobite!" "It's all very true," coolly replied Sir Robert, taking out his watch; "but if by one o'clock you do not accept my offer, Fazakerly, by two, becomes Lord Keeper, and one of the stanchest Whigs in all England." The bargain was immediately closed, and Lord Hardwicke was contented with the promise that the next Tellership should be bestowed upon his son. Titles and Trappings.-The Earl of Hardwicke had been so long known and spoken of as Lord Chancellor, that many of his friends even had forgotten his ordinary title. Upon his first appearance at the royal levee after his resignation (1756) he was announced as the Earl of Hardwicke, but the King, with whom he had been much in favour, not recognising the title, merely replied by his usual cold question, "How long has his lordship been in town?" When he advanced, the alteration in his appearance caused by the absence of the wig and robes completed the delusion; the Earl left the presence-chamber without being recognised by the master whom he had served so long.— Cooke's "History of Party." THE EARL OF BUTE. An Unpopular Minister.-The First Lord of the Treasury (says Macaulay) was detested by many as a Tory, by many as a favourite, and by many as a Scot. He could hardly walk the streets in safety without disguising himself. A gentleman who died not many years ago used to say that he once recognised the favourite earl in the piazza of Covent Garden, muffled in a large coat, and with a hat and wig drawn down over his brows. His lordship's established type with the mob was a jackboot a wretched pun on his Christian name and title. A jackboot, generally accompanied by a petticoat, was sometimes fastened on a gallows, and sometimes committed to the flames. "Blood Full of Prerogative."-In a conversation with Boswell in 1775, Dr. Johnson thus summed up the character of the Earl of Bute, who, when Prime Minister in 1762, had put Johnson on the pension list: "Our several ministers in this reign have outbid each other in concessions to the people. Lord Bute, though a very honourable man—a man who meant well, a man who had his blood full of prerogative-was a theoretical statesman, a book-minister, and thought the country could be governed by the influence of the Crown alone." He went on to say, "There is now no prime minister: there is only an agent for government in the House of Commons. We are governed by the Cabinet, but there is no one head there since Sir Robert Walpole's time." A Minute Gun Speech.-Lord Bute delivered a speech in favour of the Cider Bill in the House of Lords, on the 28th March, 1763, in reply to Lord Hardwicke, who opposed the measure. His delivery on this occasion was so particularly slow and solemn that Charles Townshend, standing on the steps of the throne, called out, in an audible whisper, "Minute guns!" These," says Lord Campbell, "might be considered as announcing the funeral of Lord Bute's Ministry." WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM. The Terrible Cornet.-The antagonist whom William Pitt first encountered, on his entering into public life (after having served in the Blues), was the veteran Walpole, who instinctively dreaded him the moment he heard his voice, and exclaimed, "We must muzzle that terrible cornet of horse!"-Lord Brougham's "Statesmen." Chatham's Personal Characteristics.-Those who saw him in his decay (writes Macaulay)—when his health was broken, when his mind was untuned, when he had been removed from that stormy assembly of which he thoroughly knew the temper, and over which he possessed unbounded influence, to a small, a torpid, and an unfriendly audience—say that his speaking was then, for the most part, a low, monotonous muttering, audible only to those who sat close to him; that when violently excited he sometimes raised his voice for a few minutes, but that it soon sank again into an unintelligible murmur. Such was the Earl of Chatham; but such was not William Pitt. His figure, when he first appeared in Parliament, was strikingly graceful and commanding, his features high and noble, his eye full of fire. His voice, even when it sank to a whisper, was heard to the remotest benches; and when he strained it to its full extent, the sound rose like the swell of an organ of a great cathedral, shook the house with its peal, and was heard through lobbies and down staircases to the Court of Requests and the precincts of Westminster Hall. He cultivated all these eminent advantages with the most assiduous care. His action is described by a very malignant observer as equal to that of Garrick. His play of countenance was wonderful; he frequently disconcerted a hostile orator by a single glance of indignation or scorn. Every tone, from the impassioned cry to the thrilling aside, was perfectly at his command. It is by no means improbable that the pains which he took to improve his great personal advantages had, in some respects, a prejudicial operation, and tended to nourish in him that passion for theatrical effect which was one of the most conspicuous blemishes in his character. His Imposing Manner.-In his earlier time, his whole manner is represented as having been beyond conception animated and imposing. Indeed, the things which he effected principally by means of it, or at least which nothing but a most striking and commanding tone could have made it possible to attempt, almost exceed belief. Some of these sallies are, indeed, examples of that approach made to the ludicrous by the sublime which has been charged upon him as a prevailing fault. It is related that once, in the House of Commons, he began a speech with the words, "Sugar, Mr. Speaker," and then, observing a smile to pervade the audience, he paused, looked fiercely around, and with a loud voice, rising in its notes and swelling into vehement anger, he is said to have pronounced again the word "Sugar!" three times; and having thus quelled the House, and extinguished every appearance of levity or laughter, turned round and disdainfully asked, "Who will laugh at sugar now ? "*— Brougham's "Statesmen." Fixing a Charge.-On one occasion Chatham said, "Who are the evil advisers of his Majesty? I would say to them, Is it you? Is it you? Is it you?" (pointing to the ministers, until he came near Lord Mansfield). There were several lords around him, and Lord Chatham said, "My lords, please to take your seats." When they had sat down, he pointed to Lord Mansfield, and said, "Is it you? Methinks Felix trembles." Compelling a Retractation.-Charles Butler relates that Mr. Moreton, the Chief Justice of Chester, happened to say in the House, "King, Lords, and Commons, or (directing his eye towards Pitt), as that right honourable member would call them, Commons, Lords, and King." Pitt arose with great deliberation, and called to order. "I have," he said, heard frequently in this House doctrines which have surprised me; but now my blood runs cold. I desire the words of the honourable member may be taken down." The clerks of the House wrote the words. "Bring them to me," said Pitt, in his loudest voice. By this time Mr. Moreton was frightened out of his senses. "Sir," he said, addressing himself to the Speaker, "I am sorry to have given any offence to the right honourable member or to the House. I meant nothing. King, Lords, and Commons-Lords, King, and Commons-Commons, Lords, and King; tria juncta in uno. I meant nothing; indeed, I meant nothing." "I don't wish to push the matter further," said Pitt. "The moment a man * Mr. Disraeli wrote, in his "Life of Bentinck :" "Sugar was an article of colonial produce which had been embarrassing, if not fatal, to many governments. Strange that a manufacture which charms infancy and soothes old age should so frequently occasion political disaster." |