the Duke of Cumberland.  Pitt was not convinced.  But Temple had an influence over him such as no other person had ever possessed.  They were very old friends, very near relations.  If Pitt’s talents and fame had been useful to Temple, Temple’s purse had formerly, in times of great need, been useful to Pitt.  They had never been parted in politics.  Twice they had come into the Cabinet together; twice they had left it together.  Pitt could not bear to think of taking office without his chief ally.  Yet he felt that he was doing wrong, that he was throwing away a great opportunity of serving his country.  The obscure and unconciliatory style of the answers which he returned to the overtures of the Duke of Cumberland, may be ascribed to the embarrassment and vexation of a mind not at peace with itself.  It is said that he mournfully exclaimed to Temple,

“Extinxti te meque, soror, populumque, patresque Sidonios, urbemque tuam.”

The prediction was but too just.

Finding Pitt impracticable, the Duke of Cumberland advised the King to submit to necessity, and to keep Grenville and the Bedfords.  It was, indeed, not a time at which offices could safely be left vacant.  The unsettled state of the Government had produced a general relaxation through all the departments of the public service.  Meetings, which at another time would have been harmless, now turned to riots, and rapidly rose almost to the dignity of rebellions.  The Houses of Parliament were blockaded by the Spitalfields weavers.  Bedford House was assailed on all sides by a furious rabble, and was strongly garrisoned with horse and foot.  Some people attributed these disturbances to the friends of Bute, and some to the friends of Wilkes.  But, whatever might be the cause, the effect was general insecurity.  Under such circumstances the King had no choice.  With bitter feelings of mortification, he informed the ministers that he meant to retain them.

They answered by demanding from him a promise on his royal word never more to consult Lord Bute.  The promise was given.  They then demanded something more.  Lord Bute’s brother, Mr. Mackenzie, held a lucrative office in Scotland.  Mr. Mackenzie must be dismissed.  The King replied that the office had been given under very peculiar circumstances, and that he had promised never to take it away while he lived.  Grenville was obstinate; and the King, with a very bad grace, yielded.

The session of Parliament was over.  The triumph of the ministers was complete.  The King was almost as much a prisoner as Charles the First had been when in the Isle of Wight.  Such were the fruits of the policy which, only a few months before, was represented as having for ever secured the throne against the dictation of insolent subjects.

His Majesty’s natural resentment showed itself in every look and word.  In his extremity he looked wistfully towards that Whig connection, once the object of his dread and hatred.  The Duke of Devonshire, who had been treated with such unjustifiable harshness, had lately died, and had been succeeded by his son, who was still a boy.  The King condescended to express his regret for what had passed, and to invite the young Duke to Court.  The noble youth came, attended by his uncles, and was received with marked graciousness.