(661) Dr. Douglas, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, an intimate friend of Lord Bath. He had detected sundry errors in Bower's Lives of the Popes.-D.
312 Letter 175 To The Hon. H. S. Conway. Arlington Street, March 4, 1756.
Dear Harry, I have received so kind and so long a letter from you, and so kind too because so long, that I feel I shall remain much in your debt, at least for length. I won't allow that I am in your debt for warmth of friendship. I have nothing worth telling you: we are hitherto conquered only in threat: for my part. I have so little expectation of an invasion, that I have not buried a single enamel, nor bought a pane of painted glass the less; of the two panics in fashion, the French and the earthquake, I have not even made my option yet. The opposition get ground as little as either: Mr. Pitt talks by Shrewsbury clock, and is grown almost as little heard as that is at Westminster. We have had full eight days on the Pennsylvania regiment. The young Hamilton has spoken and shone again; but nothing is luminous compared with Charles Townshend:—he drops down dead in a fit, has a resurrection, thunders in the Capitol, confounds the treasury-bench, laughs at his own party, is laid up the next day, and overwhelms the Duchess and the good women that go to nurse him! His brother's Militia-bill(662) does not come on till next week: in the mean time, he adorns the shutters, walls and napkins of every tavern in Pall Mall with caricatures of the Duke(663) and Sir George Lyttelton, the Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Fox. Your friend Legge has distinguished himself exceedingly on the supplies and taxes, and retains all the dignity of chancellor of the exchequer. I think I never heard so complete a scene of ignorance as yesterday on the new duties! Except Legge, you would not have thought there was a man in the House had learned troy-weight; Murray quibbled—at Hume Campbell the House groaned! Pitt and Fox were lamentable; poor Sir George never knew prices from duties, nor drawbacks from premiums! The three taxes proposed were on plate, on bricks and tiles, on cards and dice. The earthquake has made us so good, that the ministry might have burned the latter in Smithfield if they had pleased. The bricks they were forced to give up, and consented graciously, to accept 70,000 pounds on alehouses, instead of 30,000 pounds on bricks. They had nearly been forced to extend the duty on plate beyond 10 pounds carrying the restriction by a majority of only two.
An embargo is laid on the shipping, to get sailors. The young court lords were going to raise troops of light horse, but my Lord Gower (I suppose by direction of the Duke) proposed to the King that they should rather employ their personal interest to recruit the army; which scheme takes place, and, as George Townshend said in the House, they are all turning recruiting sergeants. But notwithstanding we so much expect a storm from France, I am told that in France they think much more of their own internal storms than of us. Madame Pompadour wears devotion, whether forced or artful is not certain: the disputes between the King and the parliament run very high, and the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Conti have set themselves -,it the head of the latter. Old Nugent came fuddled to the Opera last week, and jostled an ancient Lord Irwin, and then called him fool for being in his way: they were going to fight; but my Lord Talbot, professing that he did not care if they were both hanged, advised them to go back and not expose themselves. You will stare perhaps at my calling Nugent old: it is not merely to distinguish him from his son; but he is such a champion and such a lover, that it is impossible not to laugh at him as if he was a Methuselah! He is en affaire regime with the young Lady Essex. At a supper there a few nights ago of two-and-twenty people, they were talking of his going to Cashiobury to direct some alterations: Mrs. Nugent in the softest infantine voice called out, "My Lady Essex, don't let him do any thing out of doors; but you will find him delightful within!"
I think I have nothing else to tell you but a bon-mot or two; with that sort of news I think I take care to supply you duly. I send you constantly the best that London affords. Dick Edgecumbe has said that his last child was born on All-gamesters'-day; Twelfth-night. This chapter shall conclude with an epigram; the thought was George Selwyn's, who, you know, serves all the epigram-makers in town with wit. It is on Miss Chudleigh crying in the drawing-room on the death of her mother:-
"What filial piety! what mournful grace,
For a lost parent, sits on Chudleigh's face
Fair virgin, weep no more, your anguish smother!
You in this town can never want a mother."
I have told poor Mr. Mann how kind you are to him: indeed I have been exceedingly frightened and troubled for him, and thought him in immediate danger. He is certainly much mended, though I still fear a consumption for him; he has not been able to move from Richmond this whole winter: I never fail to visit him twice or thrice a week. I heartily pity the fatigue and dullness of your life; nor can I flatter you with pretending to believe it will end soon: I hope you will not be forced to gain as much reputation in the camp as you have in the cabinet!—You see I must finish.
(662) On the 12th of March, Mr. George Townshend brought in a bill for better ordering the militia. It passed the House of Commons on the 10th of May.-E.
(663) The Duke of Cumberlan(l. Mr. George Townshend was very skilful at drawing caricatures, and published a set of twelve; to which he affixed the name of Austin.-E.
314 Letter 176 To Sir Horace Mann. Arlington Street, March 18, 1756.