country invaded by a new race of savages, more cruel and ravenous than the Picts or the Danes, the poor, proud children of Leprosy and Hunger.  It is a slight circumstance, but deserves to be recorded, that in this year pamphleteers first ventured to print at length the names of the great men whom they lampooned.  George the Second had always been the K—.  His ministers had been Sir R—­ W—­, Mr. P—­, and the Duke of N—.  But the libellers of George the Third, of the Princess Mother, and of Lord Bute did not give quarter to a single vowel.

It was supposed that Lord Temple secretly encouraged the most scurrilous assailants of the Government.  In truth, those who knew his habits tracked him as men track a mole.  It was his nature to grub underground.  Whenever a heap of dirt was flung up it might well be suspected that he was at work in some foul crooked labyrinth below.  Pitt turned away from the filthy work of opposition, with the same scorn with which he had turned away from the filthy work of government.  He had the magnanimity to proclaim everywhere the disgust which he felt at the insults offered by his own adherents to the Scottish nation, and missed no opportunity of extolling the courage and fidelity which the Highland regiments had displayed through the whole war.  But, though he disdained to use any but lawful and honourable weapons, it was well known that his fair blows were likely to be far more formidable than the privy thrusts of his brother-in-law’s stiletto.

Bute’s heart began to fail him.  The Houses were about to meet.  The treaty would instantly be the subject of discussion.  It was probable that Pitt, the great Whig connection, and the multitude, would all be on the same side.  The favourite had professed to hold in abhorrence those means by which preceding ministers had kept the House of Commons in good humour.  He now began to think that he had been too scrupulous.  His Utopian visions were at an end.  It was necessary, not only to bribe, but to bribe more shamelessly and flagitiously than his predecessors, in order to make up for lost time.  A majority must be secured, no matter by what means.  Could Grenville do this?  Would he do it?  His firmness and ability had not yet been tried in any perilous crisis.  He had been generally regarded as a humble follower of his brother Temple, and of his brother-in-law Pitt, and was supposed, though with little reason, to be still favourably inclined towards them.  Other aid must be called in.  And where was other aid to be found?

There was one man, whose sharp and manly logic had often in debate been found a match for the lofty and impassioned rhetoric of Pitt, whose talents for jobbing were not inferior to his talents for debate, whose dauntless spirit shrank from no difficulty or danger, and who was as little troubled with scruples as with fears.  Henry Fox, or nobody, could weather the storm which was about to burst.  Yet was he a person to whom the Court, even in that extremity, was unwilling