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.