icular to say, or knew what to say. The
Duke of Richmond has been gone to England this fortnight; he had a
great deal of business, besides engagements here; and if he has failed
writing, at least I believe he received yours. Mr. Conway, I suppose,
has received them too, but not to my knowledge; for I have received but
one from him this age. He has had something else to do than to think of
Pretenders, and pretenders to pretensions. It has been a question (and a
question scarcely decided yet) not only whether he and his friends
should remain Ministers, but whether we should not draw the sword on our
colonies, and provoke them and the manufacturers at home to rebellion.
The goodness of Providence, or Fortune by its permission, has
interposed, and I hope prevented blood; though George Grenville and the
Duke of Bedford, who so mercifully checked our victories, in compassion
to France, grew heroes the moment there was an opportunity of conquering
our own brethren. It was actually moved by them and their banditti to
send troops to America. The stout Earl of Bute, who is never afraid when
not personally in danger, joined his troops to his ancient friends, late
foes, and now new allies. Yet this second race of Spaniards, so fond of
gold and thirsting after American blood, were routed by 274; their whole
force amounting but to 134. The Earl, astonished at this defeat, had
recourse to that kind of policy which Machiavel recommends in his
chapter of _back-stairs_. Caesar himself disavowed his Ministers, and
declared he had not been for the repeal, and that his servants had used
his name without his permission. A paper was produced to his eyes,
which proved this denial an equivocation. The Ministers, instead of
tossing their places into the middle of the closet, as I should have
done, had the courage and virtue to stand firm, and save both Europe and
America from destruction.

At that instant, who do you think presented himself as Lord Bute's
guardian angel? only one of his bitterest enemies: a milk-white angel
[Duke of York], white even to his eyes and eyelashes, very purblind, and
whose tongue runs like a fiddlestick. You have seen this divinity, and
have prayed to it for a Riband. Well, this god of love became the god of
politics, and contrived meetings between Bute, Grenville, and Bedford;
but, what happens to highwaymen _after_ a robbery, happened to them
_before_; they quarrelled about the division of the plunder, before they