Then it is true we might hang him after he comes back. But, since the man
(being a clever man) has a fair chance in the interim of rising to be
Governor-General, we put it to your candor, Lord Barrington, whether it
would be for the public service to hang his excellency?' In fact, he might
probably have been Governor-General, had his bad temper not overmastered
him. Had he not quarrelled so viciously with Mr. Hastings, it is ten to
one that he might, by playing his cards well, have succeeded him. As it
was, after enjoying an enormous salary, he returned to England--not
Governor-General, certainly, but still in no fear of being hanged. Instead
of hanging him, on second thoughts, Government gave him a red ribbon. He
represented a borough in Parliament. He was an authority upon Indian
affairs. He was caressed by the Whig party. He sat at good men's tables.
He gave for toasts--_Joseph Surface_ sentiments at dinner parties--
'The man that betrays' [something or other]--'the man that sneaks into'
[other men's portfolios, perhaps]--'is'--ay, _what_ is he? Why he is,
perhaps, a Knight of the Bath, has a sumptuous mansion in St. James's
Square, dies full of years and honor, has a pompous funeral, and fears
only some such epitaph as this--'Here lies, in a red ribbon, the man who
built a great prosperity on the basis of a great knavery.' I complain
heavily of Mr. Taylor, the very able unmasker of Junius, for blinking the
whole questions B and C.
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