Of political connections, prejudices, and pursuits, it is not here intended to say any more—to do so, would open far too wide a field; yet one remark ought to be made with respect to this Noble Lord, that he was not the less reluctant to serve a man of learning, from the circumstance of his differing in opinion materially from himself, on certain political questions of great magnitude. For example, nothing is more notorious than the warm, strenuous, and active part which Lord Loughborough took against Mr. Hastings; yet he not only endured, but admitted to his table, and, in some degree, to his confidence, those who he well knew had been zealous advocates of that illustrious person—had spoken, written, and, if we may so say, had fought in his behalf. Other instances might be adduced.
Perhaps he is the only Lord Chancellor, at least of modern times, who gave preferment to literary men, merely as such, and with no other introduction or recommendation than the merit of their publications. His predecessor, Thurlow, had the character of being friendly to literary men; but there is no example on record of his having acted with similar, and, if the expression be warranted, with such disinterested liberality, with the exception, perhaps, of Bishop Horsley alone. He gave, indeed, to ⸺, the translator of Æschylus, a prebendal stall in the Cathedral Church of Norwich; but this gentleman had the additional claim of having been his school-fellow, at the very seminary of which he was afterwards master, namely, S⸺, in Norfolk. Even on this occasion, he did not act very graciously.
Mr. P. on receiving notice of the favour intended for him, immediately came to town, to make personal acknowledgments of his gratitude. He called several times at Thurlow’s house, but could never obtain admission; at length, he applied to his friend and neighbour, Sir John, afterwards Lord Wodehouse, and begged of him to see the Chancellor in the House of Peers, and ask when he might have the honour of waiting upon his Lordship, as he had been some days in town, and was anxious to return. Sir John accordingly did this, when the only answer he received was, “Let him go home again, I want none of his Norfolk bows.”
The manners of Lord Loughborough, on the contrary, were conciliating and agreeable, and there was a kindness in his manner of granting a favour, which greatly enhanced its value. He would often say, when he gave away preferment, and more particularly to those whose merit was their only recommendation to him, “Go to my Secretary, and desire him to prepare the presentation for my Fiat immediately; or I shall have some Duke or great man make application, whom I shall not be able to refuse.”
He was also particularly desirous of so giving his preferment away, that, if practicable, the parishioners themselves might be satisfied. More than once, he has disappointed friends for whom he intended to provide, in consequence of petitions from parishioners, in favour of some meritorious curate.
He was remarkably acute in discerning characters, and in appreciating the justice of the pretensions to literary reputation of those who were introduced to him. No work of particular eminence appeared, without his desiring to know the author, if he was not already acquainted with him; and when in the enjoyment of his exalted office, would often deny himself to individuals of high rank, and prefer spending the evening in social conversation with literary friends. He was very fond of theatrical exhibitions, and more particularly so of Mrs. Siddons; his conversation on such subjects, at his own table, was particularly lively, and indicative of a refined taste and sound judgment.
He was very curious also, with respect to all new publications of voyages and travels; but was much inclined to exercise a scrutinizing jealousy and suspicion on the subject of their accuracy. He knew Bruce well, and respected him; but often indulged in a good humoured laughter at some of the more wonderful parts of his narrative. He discovered much anxiety and curiosity when Park’s Travels first appeared; but as it was universally known that Bryan Edwards had a principal share in the arrangement and composition of that work, he without reserve expressed some doubts on certain passages.
Our Sexagenarian was once reading to him from Park’s book the following paragraph:
“My guide, who was a little way before me, wheeled his horse round in a moment, calling out something in the Foulah language, which I did not understand. I enquired in Mandingo what be meant.—Wara billi, billi! a very large lion, said he; and made signs for me to ride away. But my horse was too much fatigued, so we rode slowly past the bush from which the animal had given us the alarm. Not seeing any thing myself, however, I thought my guide had been mistaken, when the Foulah suddenly put his hand to his mouth, exclaiming, Soubah an allahi! God preserve us! and to my great surprise, I then perceived a large red lion at a short distance from the bush, with his head couched between his fore-paws.”