Even in the eighteenth century it was sometimes distinguished to act with the minority, and Chesterfield adopted the now favourite modern pose of championing the weak. He railed at the Government, wrote pamphlets against it, hired men of letters to aid him, and quickly became the leader of that ever-present body of men and women who are dissatisfied, and yet know not what they want. He patronized Johnson and Pope and many others, the majority completely forgotten, and chiefly with their help and his own ready tongue attained the distinction of being the most sought-after man in London society. Whatever Chesterfield did for pleasure, generally brought him gain, and it is only one of the many lucky incidents of his life that the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough should have left him L20,000 as a token of her approval of his opposition to the Government. The legacy came in 1744, and at a time when Chesterfield's affairs were once more badly situated. The Earl of Chesterfield's character and life have been the subject of innumerable essays, but one incident forcibly illustrates the real weakness of the man who could afford to view with equanimity the bitter antagonism of his king and queen, and the animosity of the most powerful ministers of the day, and yet confess himself mortally wounded by a jest against him. Like most great wits, Chesterfield had no sense of humour, and his witticisms were merely props {150} on which his general pose rested. One day he happened to be standing in the hall of a coffee-house club in St. James's Street, when he overheard George Selwyn remark to an acquaintance, 'Here comes Joe Miller.' This was too much for Chesterfield, and he struck his name off the club at once. [Illustration: The Earl of Chesterfield] His appointment to the viceroyalty in 1745 was in the nature of a gift from the Government to the most dangerous dilettante of the day. The king, however, point-blank refused to sign the commission, and there were several stormy interviews between the king and his ministers before the former succumbed and declared 'his loving cousin and counsellor' Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. In Dublin the announcement of Chesterfield's coming roused the greatest enthusiasm. His wit, his manners, his wealth, his influence and his handsome appearance were all eagerly discussed. Dublin society, anxious to learn from the leader of society, welcomed him with open arms, and so the man who had been instructed that the Papists were dangerous and likely to become rebellious was able to write to London and glibly inform the Government that there was only one dangerous Papist in Ireland, and her name was Eleanor Ambrose, the daughter of a Dublin brewer, and the reigning beauty.