The Earl of Denbigh, a Lord of his Majesty’s Bed-chamber, being newly married, and solacing himself at his country-seat in the sweats of matrimonial bliss, to his great astonishment heard, on a winter’s evening, in the cold month of December, a nightingale singing in the woods. Having listened with great attention to so extraordinary a phœnomenon, it appeared to his Lordship that the bird distinctly repeated the following significant words, in the same manner that the bells of London admonished the celebrated Whittington,
“Throw out the India bill;
Such is your master’s will.”
His Lordship immediately communicated this singular circumstance to the fair partner of his connubial joys, who, for the good of her country, patriotically, though reluctantly, consented to forego the newly tasted delights of wedlock, and permitted her beloved bridegroom to set out for London, where his Lordship fortunately arrived in time, to co-operate with the rest of his noble and honourable brethren, the lords of the king’s bed-chamber, in defeating that detestable measure; a measure calculated to effect the immediate ruin of this country, by overthrowing the happy system of government which has so long prevailed in our East-India territories.—After having described the above-mentioned classes of nobility, he proceeds to take notice of the admirable person who so worthily presides in this august assembly:—
The rugged Thurlow, who with sullen scowl,
In surly mood, at friend and foe will growl;
Of proud prerogative, the stern support,
Defends the entrance of great George’s court
’Gainst factious Whigs, lest they who stole the seal,
The sacred diadem itself should steal:
So have I seen near village butcher’s stall
(If things so great may be compar’d with small)
A mastiff guarding, on a market day,
With snarling vigilance, his master’s tray.
The fact of a desperate and degraded faction having actually broken into the dwelling-house of the Lord High Chancellor, and carried off the great seal of England, is of equal notoriety and authenticity with that of their having treacherously attempted, when in power, to transfer the crown of Great-Britain from the head of our most gracious sovereign to that of their ambitious leader, so justly denominated the Cromwell of modern times.
While our author is dwelling on events which every Englishman must recollect with heart-felt satisfaction, he is naturally reminded of that excellent nobleman, whose character he has, in the mouth of the dying drummer, given more at large, and who bore so meritorious a share in that happy revolution which restored to the sovereign of these kingdoms the right of nominating his own servants; a right exercised by every private gentleman in the choice of his butler, cook, coachman, footman, &c. but which a powerful and wicked aristocratic combination endeavoured to circumscribe in the monarch, with respect to the appointment of ministers of state. Upon this occasion he compares the noble Marquis to the pious hero of the Æneid, and recollects the description of his conduct during the conflagration of Troy; an alarming moment, not unaptly likened to that of the Duke of Portland’s administration, when his Majesty, like king Priam, had the misfortune of seeing
——Medium in penctralibus hostem. VIRG.
The learned reader will bear in mind the description of Æneas:—
Limen ærat, cæcoque fores, &c. VIRG.
When Troy was burning, and the’ insulting foe
Had well-nigh laid her lofty bulwarks low,
The good Æneas, to avert her fate,
Sought Priam’s palace through a postern gate:
Thus when the Whigs, a bold and factious band,
Had snatch’d the sceptre from their sovereign’s hand,
Up the back-stairs the virtuous Grenville sneaks,
To rid the closet of those worse than Greeks,
Whose impious tongues audaciously maintain,
That for their subjects, kings were born to reign.