neral faculties than to produce
either conviction by his argument, or respect by the solid qualities
of his genius. Still, he must have been an extraordinary man. Walpole
describes his conduct and powers, as exhibited on one of those days of
sharp debate which preceded the tremendous discussions of the American
war. The subject was a bill for regulating the dividends of the East
India Company--the topic was extremely trite, and apparently trifling.
But any perch will answer for the flight of such bird. "It was on
that day," says Walpole, "and on that occasion, that Charles Townshend
displayed, in a latitude beyond belief, the amazing powers of his
capacity, and the no less amazing incongruities of his character."
Early in the day he had opened the business, by taking on himself the
examination of the Company's conduct, had made a calm speech on the
subject, and even went so far as to say, "that he hoped he had atoned
for the inconsiderateness of his past life, by the care which he had
taken of that business." He then went home to dinner. In his absence a
motion was made, which Conway, the secretary of state, not choosing to
support alone, it being virtually Townshend's own measure besides,
sent to hurry him back to the House. "He returned about eight in the
evening, half drunk with champagne," as Walpole says, (which, however,
was subsequently denied,) and more intoxicated with spirits. He then
instantly rose to speak, without giving himself time to learn any
thing, except that the motion had given alarm. He began by vowing that
he had not been consulted on the motion--a declaration which
astonished every body, there being twelve persons round him at the
moment, who had been in consultation with him that very morning, and
with his assistance had drawn up the motion on his own table, and who
were petrified at his unparalleled effrontery. But before he sat down,
he had poured forth, as Walpole says, "a torrent of wit, humour,
knowledge, absurdity, vanity, and fiction, heightened by all the
graces of comedy, the happiness of quotation, and the buffoonery of
farce. To the purpose of the question he said not a syllable. It was a
descant on the times, a picture of parties, of their leaders, their
hopes, and effects. It was an encomium and a satire on himself; and
when he painted the pretensions of birth, riches, connexions, favours,
titles, while he effected to praise Lord Rockingham and that faction,
he yet insinuated that no