[copyist’s hand]

nd [wm 1818]

To Erskine

2

Nay but, Sir – I think I hear your Lordship saying – surely Sir, with all your severity, one other deed of M r Windham’s may hope for your indulgence. When in 18 | | he preached against Law-Taxes, whose Book did he take for his text Book? take it and not only use it as such, but – such was his candour – make reference to it, and trumpet it. What say you Sir? Was there no merit in this?

Alas! no my Lord. The answer has been already given. Good deeds as much as you please: merit none. All taxes are bad absolutely: the least bad is good comparatively. Every man cries out against taxes. No man sets himself any such task as that of comparing each tax with any other. One man cries out against one tax; another man against another: and in like way every man but he who takes the worst for his | | gives his protection to the worst. Windham in Administration, and Law Taxes proposed, think you he could not have supported them, as readily as he then opposed them. If before that he had opposed them, perhaps no: supporting them he would thus have exposed himself. No: he would have done as George Rose did, he would have gone out, or sat silent. In that same way I remember hearing – in that same way did he deal by this and that measure of Romilly’s. In the presence of Pitt, declaring himself and master convinced by that little work, George Rose declared to me at a dinner there should be no more Law Taxes. After Pitt, came Percevall, and then addition was made to Law Taxes. George Rose absent or silent. George Rose had industry. Yes. George Rose had good inclinations. So at least it was impossible for me not to think. George Rose would have put into my hands all | |. George Rose would have put into my hands all prisoners. George Rose would have put the poor of the Country into my hands. Pitt and Dundas would have done the same. A dinner day was appointed: but it never came. One man there was in the way: one man who was stronger than Rose, Pitt, and Dundas put together /them all/. After this when George Rose met in the street he never saw me. Was this anger? Never had he so much as imagined cause for it. No, My Lord, not anger: it was regret: it was compunction: not to say shame.

George