[108] See Letter from Walpole to Lord Hertford, of 5th May, 1765, in Correspondence, vol. v. p. 23.—E.

[109] I must observe that Lord Holland has since maintained to me, that Lord Halifax alone had gone to the King, which I could never hear but from him: the contrary was the universal belief at the time, and what I learned in the House of Lords, where I arrived within five minutes after the scene I am describing had passed. It is at least evident by the ready concurrence of the Ministers, and by Grenville’s subsequent conduct in the House of Commons, that the measure had been concerted with him and Sandwich; and they both in their speeches afterwards gave indications that it had been so.

[110] Memoirs of George II., vol. i. p. 166.

[111] Charles Fitzroy, afterwards Lord Southampton, younger son of Lord Augustus Fitzroy, and only brother of Augustus Henry Duke of Grafton.

[112] See Walpole’s Letter to Lord Hertford, of May 12, 1765, in Correspondence, vol. v. p. 28.—E.

[113] Mr. Burrell, M. P. for Haslemere, made a Commissioner of Excise in 1774; became a Baronet on the death of his father-in-law, Sir Charles Raymond, and died in 1796. He was the father of Sir Charles Burrell, M. P.—E.

[114] Mr. Morton, Chief Justice of Chester, had been long in the intimate confidence of the Princess. He was in extensive practice, as may be seen in Burrow, and the other reports of the day—the leader on the Oxford Circuit, and Deputy High Steward of the University. He had considerable reputation as an advocate notwithstanding the sneer of a cotemporary satire, that says—

“Bewildered Morton spits and stares,
All petulance and froth.”

In the House of Commons, Mr. Morton seldom spoke except on questions connected with his profession. The following account of a singular scene in which he appears as the rash and unequal assailant of Pitt, has been preserved by Mr. Butler, the great Catholic counsellor, in his interesting and not uninstructive Reminiscences of George the Third.

On one occasion, Mr. Morton happened to say King, Lords, and Commons, or (directing his eye towards Mr. Pitt) as that right honourable Member would call them, Commons, Lords, and King.—The only fault of this sentence is its nonsense. Mr. Pitt arose, as he ever did, 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 took down the words. “Bring them to me,” said Mr. Pitt, with a voice of thunder. By this time Mr. Morton 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—Kings, Lords, and Commons,—Lords, Commons, and King,—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 Mr. Pitt, in a voice a little above a whisper, then in a higher tone, “the moment a man acknowledges his error he ceases to be guilty. I have a great regard for the honourable Member, and as an instance of that regard, I give him this advice.” A pause of some moments ensued; then assuming a look of unspeakable decision, he said in a kind of colloquial tone, “Whenever that Member means nothing, I recommend him to say nothing.” (Butler’s Reminiscences, vol. i. p. 156.) Mr. Morton’s last speech of any importance was on the Indemnity Bill for sending foreign troops to Minorca, in 1775. He never rose higher than the Chief Justiceship of Chester, though he was very near succeeding Mr. Justice Wilmot, in the King’s Bench; and the memoirs of the latter contain a very pleasing and well-written letter from him on the occasion. He had a house at Tackley, near Oxford, in the church of which place he is buried. He died on the 25th of July, 1780.—E.