and that all the pruning-hooks of her thousand orchards had been beaten into swords for the service of the ill-fated Stuarts.  The effect of Bute’s fiscal scheme was to produce an union between the gentry and yeomanry of the Cider-land and the Whigs of the capital.  Herefordshire and Worcestershire were in a flame.  The city of London, though not so directly interested, was, if possible, still more excited.  The debates on this question irreparably damaged the Government.  Dashwood’s financial statement had been confused and absurd beyond belief, and had been received by the House with roars of laughter.  He had sense enough to be conscious of his unfitness for the high situation which he held, and exclaimed in a comical fit of despair, “What shall I do?  The boys will point at me in the street and cry, ’There goes the worst Chancellor of the Exchequer that ever was.’” George Grenville came to the rescue, and spoke strongly on his favourite theme, the profusion with which the late war had been carried on.  That profusion, he said, had made taxes necessary.  He called on the gentlemen opposite to him to say where they would have a tax laid, and dwelt on this topic with his usual prolixity.  “Let them tell me where,” he repeated in a monotonous and somewhat fretful tone.  “I say, sir, let them tell me where.  I repeat it, sir; I am entitled to say to them, Tell me where.”  Unluckily for him, Pitt had come down to the House that night, and had been bitterly provoked by the reflections thrown on the war.  He revenged himself by murmuring in a whine resembling Grenville’s, a line of a well-known song, “Gentle Shepherd, tell me where.”  “If,” cried Grenville, “gentlemen are to be treated in this way—.”  Pitt, as was his fashion, when he meant to mark extreme contempt, rose deliberately, made his bow, and walked out of the House, leaving his brother-in-law in convulsions of rage, and everybody else in convulsions of laughter.  It was long before Grenville lost the nickname of the Gentle Shepherd.

But the ministry had vexations still more serious to endure.  The hatred which the Tories and Scots bore to Fox was implacable.  In a moment of extreme peril, they had consented to put themselves under his guidance.  But the aversion with which they regarded him broke forth as soon as the crisis seemed to be over.  Some of them attacked him about the accounts of the Pay Office.  Some of them rudely interrupted him when speaking, by laughter and ironical cheers.  He was naturally desirous to escape from so disagreeable a situation, and demanded the peerage which had been promised as the reward of his services.

It was clear that there must be some change in the composition of the ministry.  But scarcely any, even of those who, from their situation, might be supposed to be in all the secrets of the Government, anticipated what really took place.  To the amazement of the Parliament and the nation, it was suddenly announced that Bute had resigned.