[[154]]had never lost. Failings there were: he was improvident in pecuniary matters; his love of pleasure, though it observed the decencies, did not always respect the moralities, of private life; and his errors in that respect had been paraded in the public view by the labours of unwearying malice, and shameless unblushing profligacy. But in the failings of the Duke of York, there was nothing that was un-English, nothing that was un-princely.

"Never was man more easy of access, more fair and upright in his dealings, more affable, and even simple, in his manners. Every one who had intercourse with him was impressed with the openness, sincerity, and kindness, which appeared in all his actions; and it was truly said of him, that he never broke a promise, and never deserted a friend. Beloved by those who enjoyed the honour of his private intercourse, his administration of a high public office had excited one universal sentiment of respect and esteem. In his youth, he had been tried as a general in the field. The campaigns in Flanders terminated in a retreat; but the duke,—unexperienced as he was, at the head of an army which, abounding in valour, had yet much to learn in tactics, and compelled to act in concert with allies who were not always either unanimous or decided,—displayed many of the qualities of an able general, and nobly supported that high character for daring and dauntless courage which is the patrimony of his house. He was subsequently raised to the office of commander-in-chief of all his majesty's forces; that office he held for upwards of thirty-two years, and

[[155]]his administration of it did not merely improve, it literally created, an army. During his campaigns, he had felt keenly the abuses which disgraced its internal organization, and rendered its bravery ineffectual; he applied himself, with a soldier's devotion, to the task of removing them; he identified himself with the welfare and the fame of the service; he possessed great readiness and clearness of comprehension in discovering means, and great steadiness and honesty of purpose in applying them. By unceasing diligence, he gave to the common soldier comfort and respectability; the army ceased to be considered as a sort of pest-house for the reception of moral lepers; discipline and regularity were exacted with unyielding strictness; THE OFFICERS WERE RAISED BY A GRADUAL AND WELL-ORDERED SYSTEM OF PROMOTION, which gave merit a chance of not being pushed aside to make way for mere ignorant rank and wealth. The head as well as the heart of the soldier took a higher pitch; the best man in the field was the most welcome at the Horse Guards; there was no longer even a suspicion that unjust partiality disposed of commissions, or that peculation was allowed to fatten upon the spoils of the men; the officer knew that one path was open to all, and the private felt that his recompense was secure."

In a similar strain, the writer continues at a far greater length than our patience will allow us to quote. What man of understanding but must have felt disgusted at such a fulsome panegyric, which

[[156]]has not so much as a word of truth to recommend it! We despise the historian who sacrifices his integrity by an attempt to mislead posterity in this manner. It will, however, prove but an attempt; for will posterity overlook the general iniquitous and abandoned conduct of the royal libertine, both abroad and at home?—his cowardice and want of skill in the field?—his tergiversation to his creditors?—his infamous conduct with regard to certain foreign bondholders?—his notorious practices as a seducer?—his gross and unpardonable dereliction of duty at the Horse Guards?—his refusal to inquire into the conduct of the soldiers at the Manchester massacre?—his shameful acceptance of ten thousand pounds a year of the public money, for only calling upon his dying father twice a week, which Earl Grey pronounced to be "an insult to the people to ask it?"—his receiving this sum, and his going down to Windsor with a bible in his carriage, on pretence of visiting his royal father after he had ceased to exist?—or his bigotted, ridiculous, and futile opposition to the claims of the Catholics? Will posterity, we repeat, forget to canvass all this, and much more, of which the Duke of York was notoriously guilty?

If we pass over the meanness of the royal duke in accepting payment for visiting his own father, we are naturally led to inquire why this money was paid from the public purse, when the king was allowed sixty thousand pounds per annum for his private demands? Could this fund have been better applied

[[157]]than for the use of him for whom it was voted? If, therefore, it was considered necessary to pay a son for visiting his father, surely such money ought to have been applied for the purpose. Was it justifiable, in times of universal suffering and distress, to raise from an over-taxed and over-burthened people such a sum unnecessarily, when there were funds from which it might have been taken,—funds which must else be diverted from the purpose of their creation, and pass into hands for whom they were not intended? Was it not an insult to the sense of the nation to debate about what might be the feelings of the sovereign, if he should recover from the gloomy condition into which he was plunged by the afflicting hand of providence, and find his money had been so appropriated? Would not his majesty's feelings have been more hurt, in such an event, by his knowing that a reward was necessary to induce a son to take care of his father? Was there no delight in filial affection? Was not the sense of duty powerful enough? Was there no beauty in the common charities of our nature? No loveliness in gratitude? Were the claims of veneration cold?—the warmth of regard frozen? With respect to the country, it presented a serious aspect. Admitting that his royal highness, in the discharge of his office, must attend twenty times a-year at Windsor, then he would be paid five hundred pounds a time for such attendance: a single journey would discharge the wages of a thousand labourers for a week, and the annual salary satisfy twenty thousand for the same period. Would

[[158]]it not have been more beneficial to the state, more conducive to the happiness of society, to have expended the ten thousand pounds in some honourable employment, in the erection of some work of art, that would have called hundreds into action, who were steeped up to the neck in penury, and worn down to the earth by wretchedness, than in forming a salary for the royal duke for doing that which it was his bounden duty to perform? But even this view does not put the question in its broadest light. The sixty thousand pounds set apart as the annual privy purse of the king was now useless to his majesty, for he could no longer recognize his property, direct its disposal, or enjoy it. In fact, during the greater part of the Duke of York's guardianship, his father was a corpse! On what ground, on what pretence, then, could this wicked grant be continued, as well as the accumulation of the sixty thousand pounds a year, for the service of one who no longer needed either? Why, only for the purpose of feeding the inordinate profligacy of the Duke of York, and for the gratification of the regent's malice against his innocent, though calumniated, wife! What, also, will posterity think of Lord Castlereagh's conduct on this occasion, who proposed the disgusting grant to parliament? He stigmatized as infamous the refusal to grant from the public purse that which the public ought not to pay; thus boldly classing virtue with crime,—pourtraying prodigality to be right,—disguising corruption under the mask of honour,—and attempting to cast

[[159]]the dark shade of infamy over those few who were honest enough to oppose measures, which justice disapproved, and good policy condemned. By reducing such cases down to the level of common life, we the better discover their injustice and unfold their rapacity. If the constable of a village possessed of a rental, arising from a parochial allowance for his services more than adequate to supply his wants, were deprived of reason, and rendered unfit for his office, and if one of his sons were to declare that he would not superintend the care of his infirm and aged father, unless he was allowed a salary for performing his duty, what would be thought of such a son? But if this son averred that he would not take this salary from his father's allowance, but would demand it from the parish, how severe would be the censure that would follow his footsteps, and imprint itself on his name! However difficult it may be found to believe, it is nevertheless a fact, that the Duke of York would only receive the said ten thousand pounds a year from the PUBLIC, and refused to take it from the privy purse of his father. But this privy purse being already drained by his royal elder brother, he had not the opportunity of taking it from that source! Ought the country to have been thus trifled with and plundered, when it was writhing under general distress and an immense load of taxation,—taxation produced by bestowing unmerited pensions and unnecessary salaries? But ministers imagined, that when their countrymen became impoverished, their spirits would

[[160]]get depressed, and their liberties fall an easier prey to their pecuniary plunderers. But why were not bolder exertions made to defeat this grant by those members of the House of Commons who were in the habit of talking loudly of their patriotism? Why was not the unblushing audacity of ministers and their time-serving tools put to the test? Why were they not told that, among all the distressing periods of our history, not one could be mentioned in which the people were less able to sustain any additional burthens,—not one in which it would have been more indecorous, disgraceful, and unfeeling than at that juncture? Why did they not represent how much better it were that a son should pay to his father the attentions dictated by nature, without fee or reward, than that, oppressed as the community already was with the failure of trade and the expenses of government, another shilling of taxation should be added to their burthens? Why did they not ask the Treasury Bench with what face it could talk of retrenchment and economy, while it augmented the weight by which the country was borne down? When we reflect on the scandalous meanness that turned so many poor clerks adrift, while it kept safely floating in the harbour of ease and plenty, men who were doing so little for the public service,—when we consider this, and add to it the circumstance of the Duke of York's unconscionable grant,—when we place together the wretchedness of the ministry's savings, and the enormity of their waste,—our indignation rises at the