gallant service in two wars. It was confidently asserted that in this
violent measure the King heartily concurred.

But whatever pleasure the persecution of Wilkes, or the dismissal of
Conway, may have given to the royal mind, it is certain that his
Majesty's aversion to his ministers increased day by day. Grenville was
as frugal of the public money as of his own, and morosely refused to
accede to the King's request, that a few thousand pounds might be
expended in buying some open fields to the west of the gardens of
Buckingham House. In consequence of this refusal, the fields were soon
covered with buildings, and the King and Queen were overlooked in their
most private walks by the upper windows of a hundred houses. Nor was
this the worst. Grenville was as liberal of words as he was sparing of
guineas. Instead of explaining himself in that clear, concise, and
lively manner, which alone could win the attention of a young mind new
to business, he spoke in the closet just as he spoke in the House of
Commons. When he had harangued two hours, he looked at his watch, as he
had been in the habit of looking at the clock opposite the Speaker's
chair, apologized for the length of his discourse, and then went on for
an hour more. The members of the House of Commons can cough an orator
down, or can walk away to dinner; and they were by no means sparing in
the use of these privileges when Grenville was on his legs. But the poor
young King had to endure all this eloquence with mournful civility. To
the end of his life he continued to talk with horror of Grenville's
orations.

About this time took place one of the most singular events in Pitt's
life. There was a certain Sir William Pynsent, a Somersetshire baronet
of Whig politics, who had been a member of the House of Commons in the
days of Queen Anne, and had retired to rural privacy when the Tory
party, towards the end of her reign, obtained the ascendency in her
councils. His manners were eccentric. His morals lay under very odious
imputations. But his fidelity to his political opinions was unalterable.
During fifty years of seclusion he continued to brood over the
circumstances which had driven him from public life,--the dismissal of
the Whigs, the peace of Utrecht, the desertion of our allies. He now
thought that he perceived a close analogy between the well-remembered
events of his youth and the events which he had witnessed in extreme old
age; between the disgrace of Marlb