lately happened in our
ministerial world. Mr. Pelham died last Monday of a fever and
mortification, occasioned by a general corruption of his whole mass of
blood, which had broke out into sores in his back. I regret him as an old
acquaintance, a pretty near relation, and a private man, with whom I have
lived many years in a social and friendly way. He meant well to the
public; and was incorrupt in a post where corruption is commonly
contagious. If he was no shining, enterprising minister, he was a safe
one, which I like better. Very shining ministers, like the sun, are apt
to scorch when they shine the brightest: in our constitution, I prefer
the milder light of a less glaring minister. His successor is not yet, at
least publicly, 'designatus'. You will easily suppose that many are very
willing, and very few able, to fill that post. Various persons are talked
of, by different people, for it, according as their interest prompts them
to wish, or their ignorance to conjecture. Mr. Fox is the most talked of;
he is strongly supported by the Duke of Cumberland. Mr. Legge, the
Solicitor-General, and Dr. Lee, are likewise all spoken of, upon the foot
of the Duke of Newcastle's, and the Chancellor's interest. Should it be
any one of the last three, I think no great alterations will ensue; but
should Mr. Fox prevail, it would, in my opinion, soon produce changes by
no means favorable to the Duke of Newcastle. In the meantime, the wild
conjectures of volunteer politicians, and the ridiculous importance
which, upon these occasions, blockheads always endeavor to give
themselves, by grave looks, significant shrugs, and insignificant
whispers, are very entertaining to a bystander, as, thank God, I now am.
One KNOWS SOMETHING, but is not yet at liberty to tell it; another has
heard something from a very good hand; a third congratulates himself upon
a certain degree of intimacy, which he has long had with everyone of the
candidates, though perhaps he has never spoken twice to anyone of them.
In short, in these sort of intervals, vanity, interest, and absurdity,
always display themselves in the most ridiculous light. One who has been
so long behind the scenes as I have is much more diverted with the
entertainment, than those can be who only see it from the pit and boxes.
I know the whole machinery of the interior, and can laugh the better at
the silly wonder and wild conjectures of the uninformed spectators. This
accident, I think, cannot