sentiments of a man, who was assuredly the first star in the political
hemisphere, and whose talents would have excused, if any thing could
have excused, an unsuspecting credulity. The character of lord Chatham
was never, but in one instance, tarnished. He did not sufficiently dread
the omnipotence of the favourite. He fondly imagined that before a
character so brilliant, and success so imposing as his had been, no
little system of favouritism could keep its ground. Twice, my lord, he
was upon the brink of the precipice, and once he fell. When he trembled
on the verge, who was it that held him back? It was Richard earl Temple.
Twice he came, like his guardian angel, and snatched him from his fate.
Lord Chatham indeed was formed to champ the bit, and spurn indignant at
every restraint. He knew the superiority of his abilities, he
recollected that he had twice submitted to the honest counsels of his
friend, and he disdained to listen any longer to a coolness, that
assimilated but ill to the adventurousness of his spirit; and to a
hesitation, that wore in his apprehension the guise of timidity. What
then did Richard earl Temple do? There he fixed his standard, and there
he pitched his tent. Not a step farther would he follow a leader, whom
to follow had been the boast of his life. He erected a fortress that
might one day prove the safeguard of his misguided and unsuspecting
friend.

And yet, my lord, the character of Richard earl Temple, was not that of
causeless suspicion. He proved himself, in a thousand instances, honest,
trusting, and sincere. He was not, like some men, that you and I know,
dark, dispassionate, and impenetrable. On the contrary, no man mistook
him, no man ever charged him with a double conduct or a wrinkled heart.
His countenance was open, and his spirit was clear. He was a man of
passions, my lord. He acted in every momentous concern, more from the
dictates of his heart, than his head. But this is the key to his