to which he considered himself entitled.  But in 1788 he was again placed in office, on this occasion as Comptroller-General, and, practically, Prime Minister, a post for which he was utterly unfit; for he had not one qualification for a statesman, was a prey to the most overweening vanity, and his sole principles of action were a thirst for popularity and a belief in “the dominion of reason and the abstract virtues of mankind.”  Under the influence of these notions he frittered away the authority and dignity of the King; and, as Napoleon afterwards truly told his grandson, was, in truth, the chief cause of all the horrors of the Revolution.]

I do not know yet what is settled about the spot of Lord Chatham’s interment.  I am not more an enthusiast to his memory than you.  I knew his faults and his defects—­yet one fact cannot only not be controverted, but I doubt more remarkable every day—­I mean, that under him we attained not only our highest elevation, but the most solid authority in Europe.  When the names of Marlborough and Chatham are still pronounced with awe in France, our little cavils make a puny sound.  Nations that are beaten cannot be mistaken.

I have been looking out for your friend a set of my heads of Painters, and I find I want six or seven.  I think I have some odd ones in town; if I have not, I will have deficiencies supplied from the plates, though I fear they will not be good, as so many have been taken off.  I should be very ungrateful for all your kindnesses, if I neglected any opportunity of obliging you, dear Sir.  Indeed, our old and unalterable friendship is creditable to us both, and very uncommon between two persons who differ so much in their opinions relative to Church and State.  I believe the reason is, that we are both sincere, and never meant to take advantage of our principles; which I allow is too common on both sides, and I own, too, fairly more common on my side of the question than on yours.  There is a reason, too, for that; the honours and emoluments are in the gift of the Crown; the nation has no separate treasury to reward its friends.

If Mr. Tyrwhitt has opened his eyes to Chatterton’s forgeries,[1] there is an instance of conviction against strong prejudice!  I have drawn up an account of my transaction with that marvellous young man; you shall see it one day or other, but I do not intend to print it.  I have taken a thorough dislike to being an author; and if it would not look like begging you to compliment me, by contradicting me, I would tell you, what I am most seriously convinced of, that I find what small share of parts I had, grown dulled—­and when I perceive it myself, I may well believe that others would not be less sharp-sighted.  It is very natural; mine were spirits rather than parts; and as time has abated the one, it must surely destroy their resemblance to the other:  pray don’t say a syllable in reply on this head, or I shall have done exactly what I said I would not do.  Besides, as you have always been too partial to me, I am on my guard, and when I will not expose myself to my enemies, I must not listen to the prejudices of my friends; and as nobody is more partial to me than you, there is nobody I must trust less in that respect.  Yours most sincerely.