Anstruther had been tried before the Council for his unwarrantable behaviour in his government a few years ago, and a heavy number of articles proved against him; but Lord Granville defeated the charge by calling in a Minorchese, and talking to him for an hour in Spanish, and then assuring the Council that the witness had fully justified the General. The secret of Erskine’s being willing to drop his accusation was on receiving intimation that Anstruther, if pushed, would recriminate on General St. Clair, Sir Henry’s uncle, who, on the expedition to Port L’Orient, had used the most violent methods to bring a Court Martial over to his opinion, and had abused Lord John Murray, the President of it, in the grossest terms, who, on this occasion, begged Mr. Fox to tell the King and Duke from him, that his only reason for having taken no steps to complain of that usage, was for fear of increasing the heats already raised on the Mutiny Bill; but that at a proper time he would seek some redress.
A committee had been appointed to consider on amending the laws enacted against the vices of the lower people, which were increased to a degree of robbery and murder beyond example. Fielding, a favourite author of the age, had published an admirable treatise on the laws in question, and agreed with what was observed on this occasion, that these outrages proceeded from gin. The depopulation of the city was ascribed to the same cause, which gave Nugent occasion very properly to offer again his Bill of general Naturalization, a favourite Whig point, overthrown in the Queen’s time by the narrow ignorance of the Tories, and defeated in the first session of this Parliament by Mr. Pelham’s complaisance for Sir John Barnard. It was now received, and the second reading ordered for the 20th, the day before which a petition was presented against it from the city of London. The next day they presented another against gin, on which old Horace Walpole attacked Sir John Barnard on the absurdity of their remonstrating on the decrease of people, and their making interest against replacing them by foreigners. Nugent ridiculed him on the same topic, and made a distinction of humour between the good citizen in his fur gown and corporate capacity, and really wishing well in his mercantile capacity to trade and populousness: and he observed, that even in this enlightened age, the city of London had not got beyond the prejudices of the reign of Harry the Third, the laws of that age against aliens, and the reasoning of the present petition against naturalizing foreigners being exactly the same.
Sir John Barnard was as little ready to reply to banter, as Nugent was inferior to him in reasoning. The citizen, with the most acute head for figures, made that sort of speaking still more unpleasant by the paltriness of his language, as the arrogance of his honesty clouded the merit of it. The Irishman’s style was floridly bombast; his impudence as great as if he had been honest. Sir John’s moroseness looked like ill-nature, and may be was so. Nugent affected unbounded good-humour, and it was unbounded but by much secret malice, which sometimes broke out in boisterous railing, oftener vented itself in still-born satires. Sir John Barnard had been attached to Lord Granville, but had been flattered from him by Mr. Pelham. Nugent’s attachments were to Lord Granville; but all his flattery addressed to Mr. Pelham, whom he mimicked in candour, as he often resembled Lord Granville in ranting. Sir John Barnard meant honestly, and preserved his disinterestedness: he would probably have sunk in his character of a great genius, if he had come into business with Sandys and others—as they did. Nugent[52] * * * * had lost the reputation of a great poet, by writing works of his own, after he had acquired fame by an ode[53] that was the joint production[54] of several others. One would have thought his speeches had as different an origin; sometimes nothing finer, generally nothing more crowded with absurdities.
At this time all was faction, and splitting into little factions. The Pelhams were ill with one another, and ill with the Bedfords. The latter Duke would have set up Fox against Mr. Pelham; and the former Duke[55] was countenancing Pitt against all. Mr. Pelham supported Pitt and his clan against the Duke of Cumberland, who was united with the Bedfords. The Prince’s Court, composed of the refuse of every party, was divided into twenty small ones. Lord Egmont at the head of one, Nugent of another, consisting of himself and two more, Lady Middlesex and Doddington of a third, the chief ornament of which was the Earl of Bute, a Scotchman, who, having no estate, had passed his youth in studying mathematics and mechanics in his own little island, then simples in the hedges about Twickenham, and at five and thirty had fallen in love with his own figure, which he produced at masquerades in becoming dresses, and in plays which he acted in private companies with a set of his own relations. He became a personal favourite of the Prince, and was so lucky just now as to give up a pension to be one of the Lords of his Bedchamber. The Jacobites had quarrelled at Oxford on the choice of a member, and would not join with the Prince, who courted them. Lord Granville, Lord Chesterfield, and Lord Winchelsea, were each separately courted by the Duke of Newcastle, and Lord Oxford by Mr. Pelham, who at the same time was making new connexions, trying to preserve the old ones, adopting his brother’s jealousies, and yet threatening to resign on account of them. He had once solemnly declared in the House of Commons, that he would retire from business as soon as the rebellion should be extinguished. When the Duke of Grafton was told of this vow, he said, “God, I hope my friend will see the rebellion twinkle a good while yet in the Highlands!”
22d.—Sir Hugh Dalrymple moved for Mr. Golding (apothecary to the Prince of Wales) to have leave to attend Murray, being used to bleed him, which, as his veins laid low, was difficult for any other person to do. Mr. Pelham observed on the impropriety of this, as the doctor and apothecary were to appear on Monday. Mr. Fox said, he had heard that they would report he was very well, and proposed that the House should name a surgeon. It was at last agreed that Golding should go to bleed him, but should not be called for any account of his health.
Mr. Pelham, in the committee, opened the subsidy of forty thousand pounds a year to be paid to Bavaria for six years, twenty by England, and ten each by the Empress-queen and Holland. Martin made a speech of great wit against it, Lyttleton a learned one, and Murray, Solicitor-General, a very masterly one for it. It was obvious that the latter, not Mr. Pelham, had been instructed in the true secret of this negotiation by his friend Stone, secretary to the Duke of Newcastle. They had been bred at Christ Church together, and had tasted of the politics of Oxford as well as of its erudition. Sir Robert Walpole, on quitting the Ministry, had cautioned Mr. Pelham against Stone, having touched upon the scent of some of his intrigues, as he was hunting after Jacobite cabals. Mr. Pelham neglected the advice, as he had before rejected the offer of having Sir Robert’s clue of secret intelligence put into his hands. He would scarce have found either Stone’s or Murray’s name there from this time; they were converted by their own interest,[56] a conviction preferable to all detection. Lord Egmont spoke ill, and owned it was rather a right than a wrong measure; and was answered by Pitt in a good but too general a speech. Between seven and eight the House divided, but the majority for the subsidy appearing very great, it was given up without telling. This treaty with some others was calculated to purchase a majority of votes to choose the Archduke King of the Romans, but France and Prussia defeated the scheme: our Ministry could not buy off their opposition, as they bought off opponents at home, and they knew no other art of baffling an enemy.
25th.—The Bavarian Subsidy was debated on the report, and carried by 194 to 77. Then Dr. Lamont was called in and asked several questions about Murray’s health. He said he had found him with a cold and a fever, of which he was so well recovered this day se’nnight, that he had since visited him only every other day; but that going to Newgate on Saturday, he had found him with the cramp in his stomach, to which he had been subject these seven years, and of which his sister expected he would have died the day before: that he thought close confinement, without riding, dangerous for him: that he had advised him to petition the House for his liberty, though he had heard nobody else give him the same advice; but that Mr. Murray had replied in a passion, “he would take his prescriptions, but not his counsel.” Sir William Yonge then moved to restrain everybody but the Physician, Apothecary, and Nurse from visiting him, which being opposed, particularly by Lord Egmont, who reflected on the want of precedents, the Speaker made a warm and solemn speech for the honour of the House, instanced in the Earl of Shaftesbury and others, who had knelt to receive the reprimand of the House of Lords, and said that the want of a precedent of such behaviour as Murray’s did but conclude more strongly against him. Sydenham, a mad High-Church zealot, taking notice of some epithets the Speaker had used on Murray, was interrupted by him, saying, “I called him high-spirited too; if he had been only wrong-headed, I should have forgiven him.” The restriction was voted by 166 to 81.
The same day, Lord Chesterfield brought a Bill into the House of Lords for reforming our Style according to the Gregorean account, which had not yet been admitted in England, as if it were matter of heresy to receive a Kalendar amended by a Pope. He was seconded by Lord Macclesfield, a mathematical Lord, in a speech soon after printed, and the Bill passed easily through both Houses. Lord Chesterfield had made no noise since he gave up the Seals in 1748, when he published his Apology for that resignation. It was supposed to be drawn up by Lord Marchmont, under his direction, and was very well written; but to my Lord Chesterfield’s great surprise, neither his book nor his retirement produced the least consequence. From that time he had lived at White’s, gaming, and pronouncing witticisms among the boys of quality.
He had early in his life announced his claim to wit, and the women believed in it. He had besides given himself out for a man of great intrigue, with as slender pretensions; yet the women believed in that too—one should have thought they had been more competent judges of merit in that particular! It was not his fault if he had not wit; nothing exceeded his efforts in that point; and though they were far from producing the wit, they at least amply yielded the applause he aimed at. He was so accustomed to see people laugh at the most trifling things he said, that he would be disappointed at finding nobody smile before they knew what he was going to say. His speeches were fine, but as much laboured as his extempore sayings. His writings were—everybody’s: that is, whatever came out good was given to him, and he was too humble ever to refuse the gift. But, besides the passive enjoyment of all good productions in the present age, he had another art of reputation, which was, either to disapprove the greatest authors of other times, or to patronize and commend whatever was too bad to be ascribed to himself. He did his admirers the justice to believe that they would applaud upon his authority every simple book that was published, and every bad actor that appeared upon the stage.