George's Fields*, when you urged and exhorted the guards to imbrue their hands in the blood of their fellow-subjects While that bloody scene was acting, where was the gentle Barrington? Was he sighing at the feet of antiquated beauty? Was he dreaming over the loo-table, or was he more innocently employed in combing her Ladyship's lap dog? But, my Lord, when you paid that pretty compliment to the body of general officers, had you no particular apologies to make to General Conway, to Lord Albemarle, or to Sir Jeffery Amherst? Did General Harvey deserve nothing better of you than a ridiculous nickname, which, like Lord Mansfield's secret, he must carry with him to his grave? In lieu of a commander-in-chief, you have advised the King to put the army into commission. A graduate in physic, an old woman, and a broker from 'Change Alley. The doctor prescribes, the old gentlewoman administers, and little Syringe, the apothecary, stands by the glisterpipe. This, you tell the King, is making himself commander-in-chief, and the surest way to preserve the affections of the army. It may be so, my Lord, but I see no right you had to give the nickname of Doctor Radcliffe to so brave a man as General Harvey. Though his natural sweetness of temper may induce him to pass it by, it must always be mortifying to a brave adjutant-general, when he marches into St. James's Coffee House, to hear the ensigns of the guards whisper to one another, here comes the Doctor; or when he marches out, there goes the Doctor. I dare say he has furnished work enough for the surgeons, but, until you so politely pointed it out, I cannot say I ever saw anything medical in his appearance. After treating the most powerful people in the army with so much unprovoked insolence, it is not to be supposed that field officers, captains, and subalterns have any chance of common justice at your hands. But that matter shall be the the subject of another letter, and every letter shall be con cluded with a conversation piece. The following dialogue is Lot imaginary : SCENE-WAR OFFICE. Enter Barrington, meeting Waddlewell. B. My dear friend, you look charmingly this morning. Alluding to the suppression of the riots, for which see ante, p. 183. W. My dearest Lord-the sight of your LordshipHere they embrace, Waddlewell's thoughts being too big for ut terance. B. When did you see my Pylades, our dear Bradshaw? IV. Ay, my Lord, there is a friend indeed-firmness with out resistance, sincerity without contradiction, and the milky way painted in his countenance. If I could ever reconcile my mind to the distracting prospect of losing your Lordship, where else should we look for a successor! But that event, I hope, is at a great distance. Late, very late, Oh may he rule us! B. Ay, my dearest Waddlewell, but we are sadly abused, notwithstanding all our virtues. W. Merit, my dear Lord, merit will for ever excite enmity. I found it so in the alley. I never made a lucky hit in my life, that it did not set all Jonathan's in an uproar. If an idea succeeded, my best friends turned against me. Judas and Levi, Moses and Issachar―people with whom I have been connected by the tenderest ties-could not endure the sight of my prosperity. The ten tribes of Israel united to destroy ine, and for two years together were malicious enough to call me the lucky little Benjamin. Friendship, among the best of men, is little better than a name. B. Why, my dear deputy, it is not that I regard the contempt and hatred of all mankind.—I never knew it otherwise. No man's patience has been better exercised. But what if the King should hear of it? W. Ay, there's the rub! B. If the best of princes, who pretends to be his own commander-in-chief, should hear that the name of Barrington is opprobrious in the army-that even he himself is not spared for supporting me W. (weeping)-Oh, fatal day!-Compared with this, what is a riscounter! Alas, my dearest Lord, you have unmanned your deputy. I feel myself already at ten per cent. discount, and never shall be at par again. B. Something must be done. Let us consider. VETERAN. LETTER CIX. VETERAN TO LORD BARRINGTON, NO. IV. MY LORD, March 10, 1772. I AM at a loss for words to express my acknowledgment of the signal honour you have done me. One of the principal purposes of these addresses was to engage you in a regular public correspondence. You very justly thought it unnecessary to sign your name to this last elegant performance. Novalis* answers as well as Barrington. We know you by your style. This is not the first of your epistles that has been submitted to the criticism of the public. While yet, like poor Waddlewell, you were young in office, your letters to General Fowke were considered as the standard of perspicuity t. You are now very old in office, and continue to write exactly as you did in your infancy. I do not wonder that the extremes of your capacity should meet in the same point, but I should be glad to know at what period you reckoned yourself in the prime and vigour of your official understanding. Was it when you signified to the third regiment of guards his Majesty's gratitude and your own for their alacrity in butchering their innocent fellow-subjects in St. George's Fields? Was it when you informed the House of Commons that you and the doctor were equivalent to a commander-in-chief? Or when you declared that there was not a man in the army fit to be trusted with the command of it? Or when you established that wise and humane regulation, that no officer, let his age and infirmities be ever so great, and his services ever so distinguished, should be suffered to sell out unless he had bought all his former commissions? Or, in short, was it when you dived into Jonathan's for a deputy, and plucked up Waddlewell by the locks? When you answer these questions, I shall be ready to meet your Lordship upon that ground on The name subscribed by a writer who undertook the defence of Lora Barrington, and whom our author, according to his usual custom, here iden tifies with the noble Earl. + See note to Letter 107, ante, p. 397. See note to Miscellaneous Letter, No. 24, ante, p. 182, in which the letter here alluded to is inserted. which you think you stand the firmest. give me leave to say a few words to Novalis. In the meantime, You are pleased to observe that my three first letters are filled with low scurrility upon hackneyed topics collected from the newspapers. Have a little patience, my dear Lord; I shall soon come to closer quarters with you. As for those dialogues, which you are pleased to say have neither wit nor humour in them, I can only observe that there are many scenes which pass off tolerably well upon the stage, and yet will not bear the examination of the closet. You and Waddlewell are excellent performers. Between a courtier and a broker words are the smallest part of the conversation; shrugs and smiles, bows and grimaces, the condescension of St. James's, and the pliant politeness of 'Change Alley, stand in the place of repartee, and fill up the scene. You intimate, without daring directly to assert, that you did not fix that odious stigma upon the body of general officers. Have you forgot the time when you attempted the same evasion in the House of Commons, and forced General Howard to rise and say he was ashamed of you? These mean, dirty, pitiful tricks are fitter for Jonathan's than the War Office. You have more experience than any of your clerks, and your great abilities are acknowledged on all sides. As for your experience, we all know how much your conduct has been improved by it. But pray who informed you of this universal acknowledgment of your abilities? The sycophants whose company you delight in are likely enough to fill you with these flattering ideas. But if you were wise enough to consult the good opinion of the world, you would not be so eager to establish the credit of your understanding. The moment you arrive at the character of a man of sense you are undone. You must then relinquish the only tolerable excuse that can be made for your conduct. It is really unkind of you to distress the few friends you have left. To your Lordship's zeal to discover and patronise latent merit, the public is indebted for the services of Mr. Bradshaw. Pray, my Lord, will you be so good as to explain to us, of what nature were those services which he first rendered to your Lordship? Was he winged like a messenger, or stationary like a sentinel? "Like Maia's son he stood And shook his plumes;" videlicet, at the door of Lady -n's cabinet. His zeal in the execution of this honourable office promoted him to another door, where he also stands sentry, "Virgâque levem coercet Aurea turbam." That he has ably served the state, may be collected from the public acknowledgments the ministry have made him. Fifteen hundred pounds a year, well secured to himself and his family, will acquit the King of any ingratitude to Mr. Bradshaw. It is by mere accident that Sir Edward Hawke and Sir Jeffery Amherst are no better provided for. But we are indebted to your Lordship for another discovery of merit equally latent with Mr. Bradshaw's. You have a phoenix of a deputy, though yet he is but young in his nest. He has hardly had time to clear his wings from the ashes that gave him birth. This, too, was your Lordship's apology for ruining General Fowke. You gave it in evidence that you had been but four months in office, and now you tell us that your deputy also is in the same unfledged state of noviciate; though for abilities and knowledge of the world, neither Jew nor Gentile can come up to him! For shame, my Lord Barrington; send this whiffling broker back to the mystery he was bred in. Though an infant in the War Office, the man is too old to learn a new trade. At this very moment they are calling out for him at the bar of Jonathan's-Shammy! Shammy! Shammy! The house of Israel are waiting to settle their last account with him. During his absence things may take a desperate turn in the alley, and you never may be able to make up to the man what he has lost in half-crowns and sixpences already. VETERAN. |