“We are debating how to come up to town, and how to make a Stage Coach compatible with Saba’s aristocracy and dignity.  The Coach sets off from Taunton at four o’clock.  It is then dark.  I recommend her hurrying in three minutes before the Coach departs with her face covered up.  But there is a maiden lady who knows us and who lives opposite the Coach.  I have promised to keep her in conversation whilst Saba steps in.  Once in, all chance of detection is over.

    “PS.—­We think Miss Y——­ has discovered us, for, upon meeting her
    in Taunton, she spoke of the Excellence of Public Conveyances.  I
    said it was a fine day, and, conscious of guilt, retired.”

The removal to London was safely accomplished, and on the 29th of January he wrote:—­

“I drove all this morning with Lady Holland.  I had refused two or three times last week, but, as a good deal is due to old friendship, I wrote word that, if she would accept the company of a handsome young clergyman, I knew of one who was much at her service.  She was very ill.  I preached to her, not ’of Temperance and Righteousness and Judgement to come,’ but said nothing of the two last and confined myself to the first topic.  ’Lay aside pepper, and brandy and water, and baume de vie.  Prevent the evil instead of curing it.  A single mutton chop, a glass of toast and water’—­here she cried and I stopped; but she began sobbing, and I was weak enough to allow two glasses of sherry—­on which she recovered.”

A few days later he wrote to his old friend Lady Morley[109]:—­

“I have taken possession of my preferment.  The house is in Amen Corner,—­an awkward name on a card, and an awkward annunciation to the coachman on leaving any fashionable mansion.[110] I find too (sweet discovery!) that I give a dinner every Sunday, for three months in the year, to six clergymen and six singing-men, at one o’clock.  Do me the favour to drop in as Mrs. Morley.”

It soon became evident that the Whig Government, flushed with its triumph over Toryism, intended to lay reforming hands upon the Church,[111] and the newly-fledged dignitary was alarmed.  On the 22nd of December 1832 he wrote—­

“I see Lord Grey, the Chancellor, and the Archbishop of Canterbury have had a meeting, which I suppose has decided the fate of the Church.”  “Do you want a butler or respectable-looking groom of the chambers?  I shall be happy to serve you in either capacity; it is time for the clergy to look out.  I have also a cassock and stock of sermons to dispose of, dry and fit for use.”  “I am for no more movements:  they are not relished by Canons of St. Paul’s.  When I say, ’no more movements,’ however, I except the case of the Universities; which, I think, ought to be immediately invaded with Enquirers and Commissioners.  They are a crying evil.”  “Do not imagine I am going to rat.  I am a thoroughly honest, and, I will say, liberal person, but have never given way to that puritanical feeling of the Whigs against dining with Tories.

      “’Tory and Whig in turns shall be my host,
      I taste no politics in boil’d and roast.’”