"What most offended them was the manner in which the Prince announced his resolution. They were in the very act of forming the Administration, filling offices, &c., &c., when Adam came in from the Prince. They said they could not be disturbed; he said he must disturb them, for he had a message from the Prince: they replied that it was for the Prince they were at work, for they were making the Government; Adam told them to spare all trouble, for no Government was to be made. This was on Friday the 1st, in the evening; and what affronted them was, that after having had such a task committed to them, the Prince should have presumed to take a counter resolution by himself without first consulting them."

This is a characteristic trait of the Duke of Wellington's way of getting through, business.

"He was fond of relating, that soon after the Duke's appointment, he was leaving his office at the usual hour, when, on coming out at the Park entrance, he perceived his new chief just in the act of getting on horseback. He went up to the Duke, and mentioned that there were some matters connected with the department on which he would like to communicate with him when he had time. 'No time like the present,' said the Duke, and, at once dismissing his horse, returned with Mr. Ward into the Ordnance Office. There, then, he remained closeted with the Duke till past eight, listening to and answering his pertinent queries upon manifold points connected with the department. From that moment the Duke appeared to be au fait of the business in hand, and ready to cope with the details as they from time to time presented themselves."

The Duke seems to have been more alarmed at the state of the nation about 1819 than the nature of the case justified; deceived, probably, by the official "reports" of Messrs. Castles and Co. The following remark, however, exhibits his penetration:

"He said, if the rising broke out anywhere, it would be at Glasgow and Paisley; where many rich merchants and all they supported would be sure to suffer, while no one could certainly foretell how soon it might be put down. This led him to his favorite notion, that the loyal should be taught to rely more upon themselves, and less upon the Government, in their own defense against the disloyal. It was this, he thought, that formed and kept up a national character: while every one was accustomed to rely upon the Government, upon a sort of commutation for what they paid to it, personal energy went to sleep, and the end was lost: that in England, he observed, every man who had the commonest independence, one, two, five or six hundred, or a thousand a year, had his own little plan of comfort—his favorite personal pursuit, whether his library, his garden, his hunting, or his farm, which he was unwilling to allow anything (even his own defense) to disturb; he therefore deceived himself into a notion that if there was a storm it would not reach him, and went on his own train till it was actually broke in upon by force. This led to supineness and apathy as to public exertion; which would in the end ruin us: the disposition therefore must be changed, by forcing them to exert themselves; which would not be if Government did everything in civil war, they nothing: hence his wish for a volunteer force. All this was exceedingly sound, and showed the reach of his reflecting mind as an observer of human nature, as well as a statesman and soldier, more than anything I have yet seen."

There is a curious passage touching Pitt's dying moments.

"At the time Mr. Ward accepted the post of Under-Secretary of State, (resigning that of Welsh Judge,) it had been promised him that the apparent risk of such a step to the future prospects of his family should be guarded against by the grant of a pension, to commence when he should cease to hold office. He had been but a year in the post thus accepted, and amid the pressure of other matters the contemplated arrangement had never been completed. More than once in his last illness did Pitt allude to his unfulfilled promise, and speak with kindness of him to whom it had been made. Later on, when he could no longer continuously articulate, he made the name 'Robert Ward' audible, and added signs for paper and ink. His trembling hand having feebly traced a number of wandering characters, and added what could be easily recognized as his well-known signature, he sank back. The precious paper (precious, whatever may have been its unknown import, as a proof of remembrance at so solemn a moment) was afterward handed over by the physician in attendance, Sir Walter Farquhar, to Mr. Ward; and many a time did he declare, as he displayed it to me, that he would give anything he valued most in the world to be able to decipher its unformed characters."

Some posthumous compositions of Mr. Ward are appended to the Memoirs. They consist of "characters," similar to those of Chesterfield and other writers, and of "sketches" and essays; these last being set in a species of framework, intended to connect them into a series. They are not the best specimens of the author's composition; and perhaps were hardly worth publication. Allowance is to be made, as Mr. Phipps remarks, for their unrevised state; and revision might have removed crudities and imparted more closeness and strength. It would not, however, have altered their main defects; which may be summed up by saying that they belonged to another age, without reaching the peculiar force and finish which alone can give interest to an obsolete mode.

Footnote 3: [(return)]

Memoirs of the Political and Literary Life of Robert Plumer Ward, Esq., Author of "The Law of Nations," "Tremaine," "De Vere," &c. With Selections from his Correspondence, Diaries, and unpublished Literary Remains. By the Honorable Edmund Phipps. In two volumes. Published by Murray.