"My love to Churchill," he writes to Colman; "his
being sick of Richard was perceived about the house."
That Churchill was a critic of formidable aspect, the portrait he
limned of himself in his "Independence" amply demonstrates:
Vast were his bones, his muscles twisted strong,
His face was short, but broader than 'twas long;
His features though by nature they were large,
Contentment had contrived to overcharge
And bury meaning, save that we might spy
Sense low'ring on the pent-house of his eye;
His arms were two twin oaks, his legs so stout
That they might bear a mansion-house about;
Nor were they--look but at his body there--
Designed by fate a much less weight to bear.
O'er a brown cassock which had once been black,
Which hung in tatters on his brawny back,
A sight most strange and awkward to behold,
He threw a covering of blue and gold. &c. &c.
This was not the kind of man to be contemptuously regarded or
indiscreetly attacked. Foote ventured to designate him "the clumsy
curate of Clapham," but prudently suppressed a more elaborate lampoon
he had prepared.
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