eculiar 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 forever
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.

This and many other symptoms of the same kind irritated the ministers.
They had still in store for their sovereign an insult which would have
provoked his grandfather to kick them out of the room. Grenville and
Bedford demanded an audience of him, and read him a remonstrance of many
pages, which they had drawn up with great care. His Majesty was accused
of breaking his word, and of treating his advisers with gross
unfairness. The Princess was mentioned in language by no means
eulogistic. Hints were thrown out that Bute's head was in danger. The
King was plainly told that he must not continue to show, as he had done,
that he disliked the situation in which he was placed, that he must
frown upon the opposition, that he must carry it fair towards his
ministers in public. He several times interrupted the reading, by
declaring that he had ceased to hold any communication with Bute. But
the ministers, disregarding his denial, went on; and the King listened
in silence, almost choked by rage. When they ceased to read, he merely
made a gesture expressive of his wish to be left alone. He afterwards
owned that he thought he should have gone into a fit.

Driven to despair, he again had recourse to the Duke of Cumberland; and
the Duke of Cumberland again had recourse to Pitt. Pitt was really
desirous to undertake the direction of affairs, and owned, with many
dutiful expressions, that the terms offered by the King were all