Transcriber's note:

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 In the original book set, consisting of four volumes, the master index was in Volume 4. In this set of e-books, the index has been duplicated into each of the other volumes, with its first page re-numbered as necessary, and an Index item added to each volume's Table of Contents. 

A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES

by

JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M. P. 

Author of "A History of Our Own Times" Etc. 

In Four Volumes

VOL. II. 

New YorkHarper & Brothers, Franklin Square1901

NOTE. 

While this volume was passing through the press, _The EnglishHistorical Review_ published an interesting article by Prof. J. K. Laughton on the subject of Jenkins's Ear. Professor Laughton, whilelately making some researches in the Admiralty records, came on certaincorrespondence which appears to have escaped notice up to that time, and he regards it as incidentally confirming the story of Jenkins'sEar, "which for certainly more than a hundred years has generally beenbelieved to be a fable. " The correspondence, in my opinion, leaves thestory exactly as it found it. We only learn from it that Jenkins madea complaint about his ear to the English naval commander at Port Royal, who received the tale with a certain incredulity, but nevertheless sentformal report of it to the Admiralty, and addressed a remonstrance tothe Spanish authorities. But as Jenkins told his story to every one hemet, it is not very surprising that he should have told it to theEnglish admiral. No one doubts that a part of one of Jenkins's earswas cut off; it will be seen in this volume that he actually at onetime exhibited the severed part; but the question is, How did it cometo be severed? It might have been cut off in the ordinary course of ascuffle with the Spanish revenue-officers who tried to search hisvessel. The point of the story is that Jenkins said the ear wasdeliberately severed, and that the severed part was flung in his face, with the insulting injunction to take that home to his king. WhetherJenkins told the simple truth or indulged in a little fable is aquestion which the recently published correspondence does not in anyway help us to settle. 

J. McC. 

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 

 CHAP. PAGE

 XXI. BOLINGBROKE ROUTED AGAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 XXII. THE "FAMILY COMPACT" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 XXIII. ROYAL FAMILY AFFAIRS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 XXIV. THE PORTEOUS RIOTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 XXV. FAMILY JARS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 XXVI. A PERILOUS VICTORY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82 XXVII. "ROGUES AND VAGABONDS" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 XXVIII. THE BANISHED PRINCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 XXIX. THE QUEEN'S DEATH-BED . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 XXX. THE WESLEYAN MOVEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 XXXI. ENGLAND'S HONOR AND JENKINS'S EAR . . . . . . . 147 XXXII. WALPOLE YIELDS TO WAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 XXXIII. "AND WHEN HE FALLS----" . . . . . . . . . . . . 185 XXXIV. "THE FORTY-FIVE" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199 XXXV. THE MARCH SOUTH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308 XXXVI. CULLODEN--AND AFTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 XXXVII. CHESTERFIELD IN DUBLIN CASTLE . . . . . . . . . 289 XXXVIII. PRIMUS IN INDIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 XXXIX. CHANGES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 XL. CANADA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 XLI. THE CLOSE OF THE REIGN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292 INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306

{1}

A HISTORY

OF

THE FOUR GEORGES. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

BOLINGBROKE ROUTED AGAIN. 

While "the King's friends" and the Patriots, otherwise the Court partyand the country party, were speech-making and pamphleteering, one ofthe greatest English pamphleteers, who was also one of the masters ofEnglish fiction, passed quietly out of existence. On April 24, 1731, Daniel Defoe died. It does not belong to the business of this historyto narrate the life or describe the works of Defoe. The book on whichhis fame will chiefly rest was published just twenty years before hisdeath. "Robinson Crusoe" first thrilled the world in 1719. "RobinsonCrusoe" has a place in literature as unassailable as "Gulliver'sTravels" or as "Don Quixote. " Rousseau in his "Émile" declares that"Robinson Crusoe" should for a long time be his pupil's sole library, and that it would ever after through life be to him one of his dearestintellectual companions. At the present time, it is said, Englishschool-boys do not read "Robinson Crusoe. " There are laws of literaryreaction in the tastes of school-boys as of older people. There weredays when the English public did not read Shakespeare; but it wascertain that Shakespeare would come up again, and it is certain that"Robinson Crusoe" will come up again. Defoe had been {2} a fiercefighter in the political literature of his time, and that was a tryingtime for the political gladiator. He had, according to his owndeclaration, been thirteen times rich and thirteen times poor. He hadalways written according to his convictions, and he had a spirit thatno enemy could cow, and that no persecution could break. He had hadthe most wonderful ups and downs of fortune. He had been patronized bysovereigns and persecuted by statesmen. He had been fined; he had beenpensioned; he had been sent on political missions by one minister, andhe had been clapped into Newgate by another. He had been applauded inthe streets and he had been hooted in the pillory. Had he not written"Robinson Crusoe" he would still have held a high place in Englishliterature, because of the other romances that came from his teemingbrain, and because of the political tracts that made so deep andlasting an impression even in that age of famous political tracts. But"Robinson Crusoe" is to his other works like Aaron's serpent, or the"one master-passion in the breast, " which the poet has compared withit--it "swallows all the rest. " "While all ages and descriptions ofpeople, " says Charles Lamb, "hang delighted over the adventures ofRobinson Crusoe, and will continue to do so, we trust, while the worldlasts, how few comparatively will bear to be told that there existother fictitious narratives by the same writer--four of them at leastof no inferior interest, except what results from a less felicitouschoice of situation. 'Roxana, ' 'Singleton, ' 'Moll Flanders, ' 'ColonelJack, ' are all genuine offsprings of the same father. They bear theveritable impress of Defoe. Even an unpractised midwife would swear tothe nose, lip, forehead, and eye of every one of them. They are, intheir way, as full of incident, and some of them every bit as romantic;only they want the uninhabited island, and the charm, that hasbewitched the world, of the striking solitary situation. " Defoe diedin poverty and solitude--"alone with his glory. " It is perhaps notuncurious to note that in the same month of the same year, 1731, on {3}April 8th, "Mrs. Elizabeth Cromwell, daughter of Richard Cromwell, theProtector, and granddaughter of Oliver Cromwell, died at her house inBedford Row, in the eighty-second year of her age. "

[Sidenote: 1733--Gay's request]

The death of Gay followed not long after that of Defoe. The versatileauthor of "The Beggars' Opera" had been sinking for some years into acondition of almost unrelieved despondency. He had had somedisappointments, and he was sensitive, and took them too much to heart. He had had brilliant successes, and he had devoted friends, but aslight failure was more to him than a great success, and what heregarded as the falling-off of one friend was for the time of moreaccount to him than the steady and faithful friendship of many men andwomen. Shortly before his death he wrote: "I desire, my dear Mr. Pope, whom I love as my own soul, if you survive me, as you certainly will, if a stone should mark the place of my grave, see these words put uponit:

 "'Life is a jest and all things show it: I thought so once, but now I know it. '"

Gay died in the house of his friends, the Duke and Duchess ofQueensberry, on December 4, 1732. He was buried near the tomb ofChaucer in Westminster Abbey, and a monument was set up to his memory, bearing on it Pope's famous epitaph which contains the line, "In wit aman, simplicity a child. " Gay is but little known to the presentgeneration. Young people or old people do not read his fables anymore--those fables which Rousseau thought worthy of special discussionin his great treatise on Education. The gallant Captain Macheathswaggers and sings across the operatic stage no more, nor are tearsshed now for pretty Polly Peachum's troubles. Yet every day some onequotes from Gay, and does not know what he is quoting from. 

Walpole was not magnanimous towards enemies who had still the power todo him harm. When the enemy could hurt him no longer, Walpole feltanger no longer; {4} but it was not his humor to spare any man whostood in his way and resisted him. If he was not magnanimous, at leasthe did not affect magnanimity. He did not pretend to regard withcontempt or indifference men whom in his heart he believed to beformidable opponents. It was a tribute to the capacity of a public manto be disliked by Walpole; a still higher tribute to be dreaded by him. One of the men whom the great minister was now beginning to hold inserious dislike and dread was Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl ofChesterfield. Born in 1694, Chesterfield was still what would becalled in political life a young man; he was not quite forty. He hadled a varied and somewhat eccentric career. His father, a morose man, had a coldness for him. Young Stanhope, according to his own account, was an absolute pedant at the university. "When I talked my best Iquoted Horace; when I aimed at being facetious I quoted Martial; andwhen I had a mind to be a fine gentleman I talked Ovid. I wasconvinced that none but the ancients had common-sense; that theclassics contained everything that was either necessary, useful, orornamental to me; . . . And I was not even without thoughts of wearingthe _toga virilis_ of the Romans, instead of the vulgar and illiberaldress of the moderns. " Later he had been a devotee of fashion and thegambling-table, was a man of fashion, and a gambler still. He hadtravelled; had seen and studied life in many countries and cities andcourts; had seen and studied many phases of life. He professed to bedissipated and even licentious, but he had an ambitious and a daringspirit. He well knew his own great gifts, and he knew also and franklyrecognized the defects of character and temperament which were likelyto neutralize their influence. If he entered the House of Commonsbefore the legal age, if for long he preferred pleasure to politics, hewas determined to make a mark in the political world. We shall seemuch of Chesterfield in the course of this history; we shall see howutterly unjust and absurd is the common censure which sets him down asa literary and political {5} fribble; we shall see that his speecheswere so good that Horace Walpole declares that the finest speech heever listened to was one of Chesterfield's; we shall see how bold hecould be, and what an enlightened judgment he could bring to bear onthe most difficult political questions; we shall see how near he wentto genuine political greatness. 

[Sidenote: 1733--Chesterfield's character]

It is not easy to form a secure opinion as to the real character ofChesterfield. If one is to believe the accounts of some of thecontemporaries who came closest to him and ought to have known himbest, Chesterfield had scarcely one great or good quality of heart. His intellect no one disputed, but no one seems to have believed thathe had any savor of truth or honor or virtue. Hervey, who was fond ofbeating out fancies fine, is at much pains to compare and contrastChesterfield with Scarborough and Carteret. Thus, while LordScarborough was always searching after truth, loving it, and adheringto it, Chesterfield and Carteret were both of them most abominablygiven to fable, and both of them often, unnecessarily and consequentlyindiscreetly so; "for whoever would lie usefully should lie seldom. "Lord Scarborough had understanding, with judgment and without wit; LordChesterfield a speculative head, with wit and without judgment. LordScarborough had honor and principle, while Chesterfield and Carterettreated all principles of honesty and integrity with such open contemptthat they seemed to think the appearance of these qualities would be ofas little use to them as the reality. In short, Lord Scarborough wasan honest, prudent man, capable of being a good friend, while LordChesterfield and Carteret were dishonest, imprudent creatures, whoseprinciples practically told all their acquaintance, "If you do notbehave to me like knaves, I shall either distrust you as hypocrites orlaugh at you as fools. "

We have said already in this history that a reader, in getting at anestimate of the character of Lord Hervey, will have to strike a sort ofbalance for himself between {6} the extravagant censure flung at him byhis enemies and the extravagant praise blown to him by his friends. But we find no such occasion or opportunity for striking a balance inthe case of Lord Chesterfield. All the testimony goes the one way. What do we hear of him? That he was dwarfish; that he was hideouslyugly; that he was all but deformed; that he was utterly unprincipled, vain, false, treacherous, and cruel; that he had not the slightestfaith in the honor of men or the virtue of women; that he was sillyenough to believe himself, with all his personal defects, actuallyirresistible to the most gifted and beautiful woman, and that he wasmendacious enough to proclaim himself the successful lover of women whowould not have given ear to his love-making for one moment. Yet wecannot believe that Chesterfield was by any means the monster ofugliness and selfish levity whom his enemies, and some who calledthemselves his friends, have painted for posterity. He was, saysHervey, short, disproportioned, thick, and clumsily made; had a broad, rough-featured, ugly face, with black teeth, and a head big enough fora Polyphemus. "One Ben Ashurst, who said few good things, thoughadmired for many, told Lord Chesterfield once that he was like astunted giant, which was a humorous idea and really apposite. " Hisportraits do not by any means bear out the common descriptions of hispersonal appearance. Doubtless, Court painters then, as now, flatteredor idealized, but one can scarcely believe that any painter coollyconverted a hideous face into a rather handsome one and went whollyunreproved by public opinion of his time. The truth probably is thatChesterfield's bitter, sarcastic, and unsparing tongue made himenemies, who came in the end to see nothing but deformity in his personand perfidy in his heart. It is easy to say epigrammatically of such aman that his propensity to ridicule, in which he indulged himself withinfinite humor and no distinction, and with inexhaustible spirits andno discretion, made him sought and feared, liked and not loved, by mostof his acquaintance; it is easy to say that {7} no sex, no relation, norank, no power, no profession, no friendship, no obligation, was ashield from those pointed, glittering weapons that seemed only to shineto a stander-by, but cut deep in those they touched. But to say thisis not to say all, or to paint a fair picture. It is evident that hedelighted in passing himself off on serious and heavy people as a meretrifler, paradox-maker, and cynic. He invited them not to take himseriously, and they did take him seriously, but the wrong way. Theybelieved that he was serious when he professed to have no faith inanything; when he declared that he only lived for pleasure, and did notcare by what means he got it; that politics were to him ridiculous, andambition was the folly of a vulgar mind. We now know that he had analmost boundless political ambition; and we know, too, that when putunder the responsibilities that make or mar statesmen, he showedhimself equal to a great task, and proved that he knew how to govern anation which no English statesman before his time or since was able torule from Dublin Castle. If the policy of Chesterfield had beenadopted with regard to Ireland, these countries would have been savedmore than a century of trouble. We cannot believe the statesman tohave been only superficial and worthless who anticipated in his Irishpolicy the convictions of Burke and the ideas of Fox. 

[Sidenote: 1733--Chesterfield's governing ability]

The time, however, of Chesterfield's Irish administration is yet tocome. At present he is still only a rising man; but every one admitshis eloquence and his capacity. It was he who moved in the House ofLords the "address of condolence, congratulation, and thanks" for thespeech from the throne on the accession of George the Second. Sincethen he had served the King in diplomacy. He had been Minister to theHague, and the Hague then was a very different place, in thediplomatist's sense, from what it is now or is ever likely to be again. He had been employed on special missions and had been concerned in themaking of important treaties. He was rewarded for his services withthe Garter, and was made Lord Steward {8} of the Household. He haddistinguished himself highly as an orator in the House of Lords; hadtaken a place among the very foremost parliamentary orators of the day. But he chafed against Walpole's dictatorship, and soon began to showthat he was determined not to endure too much of it. He secretly didall he could to mar Walpole's excise scheme; he encouraged his threebrothers to oppose the bill in the House of Commons. He said witty andsarcastic things about the measure, which of course were duly reportedto Walpole's ears. Perhaps Chesterfield thought he stood too high tobe in danger from Walpole's hand. If he did think so he soon found outhis mistake. Walpole's hand struck him down in the most unsparing andhumiliating way. Public affront was added to political deprivation. Lord Chesterfield was actually going up the great stairs of St. James'sPalace, on the day but one after the Excise Bill had been withdrawn, when he was stopped by an official and bidden to go home and bring backthe white staff which was the emblem of his office, of all the chiefoffices of the Household, and surrender it. Chesterfield took thedemand thus ungraciously made with his usual composure and politeness. He wrote a letter to the King, which the King showed to Walpole, butdid not think fit to answer. The letter, Walpole afterwards told LordHervey, was "extremely labored but not well done. " Chesterfieldimmediately passed into opposition, and became one of the bitterest andmost formidable enemies Walpole had to encounter. Walpole's friendsalways justified his treatment of Chesterfield by asserting thatChesterfield was one of a party who were caballing against the ministerat the time of the excise scheme, and while Chesterfield was a memberof the Government. Chesterfield, it was declared, used actually toattend certain private meetings and councils of Walpole's enemies toconcert measures against him. There is nothing incredible or evenunlikely in this; but even if it were utterly untrue, we may assumethat sooner or later Walpole would have got rid of Chesterfield. {9}Walpole's besetting weakness was that he could not endure any reallycapable colleague. The moment a man showed any capacity for governing, Walpole would appear to have made up his mind that that man and he werenot to govern together. 

[Sidenote: 1733--Walpole's animosity]

Walpole made a clean sweep of the men in office whom he believed tohave acted against him. He even went so far as to deprive of theircommissions in the army two peers holding no manner of office in theAdministration, but whom he believed to have acted against him. Tostrengthen himself in the House of Lords he conferred a peerage on hisattorney-general and on his solicitor-general. Philip Yorke, theAttorney-general, became Lord Hardwicke and Chief-justice of the King'sBench; Charles Talbot was made Lord Chancellor under the title of LordTalbot. Both were men of great ability. Hardwicke stood higher in therank at the bar than Talbot, and in the ordinary course of things heought to have had the position of Lord Chancellor. But Talbot was onlygreat as a Chancery lawyer, and knew little or nothing of common law, and it would have been out of the question to make him LordChief-justice. So Walpole devised a characteristic scheme ofcompromise. Hardwicke was induced to accept the office of LordChief-justice on the salary being raised from 3000 pounds to 4000pounds, and with the further condition that an additional thousand ayear was to be paid to him out of the Lord Chancellor's salary. Thiscurious transaction Walpole managed through the Queen, and the Queenmanaged to get the King to regard it as a clever device of his ownmention. It is worth while to note that the only charge ever madeagainst Hardwicke by his contemporaries was a charge of avarice; he wasstingy even in his hospitality, his enemies said--a great offence inthat day was to be parsimonious with one's guests; and malignant peoplecalled him Judge Gripus. For aught else, his public and privatecharacter were blameless. Hardwicke was the stronger man of the two;Talbot the more subtle and {10} ingenious. Both were eloquent pleadersand skilled lawyers, each in his own department. Hervey says that "noone could make more of a good cause than Lord Hardwicke, and no one somuch of a bad cause as Lord Talbot. " Hardwicke lived to have a longcareer of honor, and to win a secure place in English history. LordTalbot became at once a commanding influence in the House of Lords. "Our new Lord Chancellor, " the Earl of Strafford, England's nominal andornamental representative in the negotiation for the peace of Utrecht, writes to Swift, "at present has a great party in the House. " But thenew Lord Chancellor did not live long enough for his fame. He wasdestined to die within a few short years, and to leave the wool-sackopen for Lord Hardwicke. 

[Sidenote: 1734--The Patriots]

The House of Commons has hardly ever been thrilled to interest androused to passion by a more heated, envenomed, and, in the rhetoricalsense, brilliant debate than that which took place on March 13, 1734. The subject of the debate was the motion of a country gentleman, Mr. William Bromley, member for Warwick, "that leave be given to bring in abill for repealing the Septennial Act, and for the more frequentmeeting and calling of Parliaments. " The circumstances under whichthis motion was brought forward gave it a peculiar importance as aparty movement. Before the debate began it was agreed, upon a formalmotion to that effect, "that the Sergeant-at-arms attending the Houseshould go with the mace into Westminster Hall, and into the Court ofBequests, and places adjacent, and summon the members there to attendthe service of the House. "

The general elections were approaching; the Parliament then sitting hadnearly run its course. The Patriots had been making every possiblepreparation for a decisive struggle against Walpole. They had beenusing every weapon which partisan hatred and political craft couldsupply or suggest. The fury roused up by the Excise Bill had not yetwholly subsided. Public opinion still throbbed and heaved like a seathe morning after a storm. {11} The Patriots had been exerting theirbest efforts to make the country dissatisfied with Walpole's foreignpolicy. The changes were incessantly rung upon the allegeddepredations which the Spaniards were committing on our mercantilemarine. Long before the time for the general elections had come, thePatriot candidates were stumping the country. Their progress througheach county was marked by the wildest riots. The riots sometimescalled for the sternest military repression. On the other hand, thePatriots themselves were denounced and discredited by all the penmen, pamphleteers, and orators who supported the Government on their ownaccount, or were hired by Walpole and Walpole's friends to support it. So effective were some of these attacks, so damaging was the incessantimputation that in the mouths of the Patriots patriotism meant nothingbut a desire for place and pay, that Pulteney and his comrades found itadvisable gradually to shake off the name which had been put on them, and which they had at one time willingly adopted. They began to callthemselves "the representatives of the country interest. "

The final struggle of the session was to take place on the motion forthe repeal of the Septennial Act. We have already given an account ofthe passing of that Act in 1716, and of the reasons which in ouropinion justified its passing. It cannot be questioned that there ismuch to be said in favor of the principle of short Parliaments, but inWalpole's time the one great object of true statesmanship was tostrengthen the power of the House of Commons; to enable it to stand upagainst the Crown and the House of Lords. It would be all butimpossible for the House of Commons to maintain this position if itwere doomed to frequent and inevitable dissolutions. Frequentdissolution of Parliament means frequently recurring cost, struggle, anxiety, wear and tear, to the members; and; of course, it meant allthis in much higher measure during the reign of George the Second thanit could mean in the reign of Victoria. Walpole had {12} devotedhimself to the task of strengthening the representative assembly, andhe was, therefore, well justified in resisting the motion made by Mr. Bromley on March 13, 1734, for the repeal of the Septennial Act. Ourinterest now, however, is not so much with the political aspect of thedebate as with its personal character. One illustration of thecorruption which existed at the time may be mentioned in passing. Itwas used as an argument against long Parliaments, but assuredly at thatday it might have been told of short Parliaments as well. Mr. WatkinWilliams Wynn mentioned the fact that a former member of the House ofCommons, afterwards one of the judges of the Common Pleas, "a gentlemanwho is now dead, and therefore I may name him, " declared that he "hadnever been in the borough he represented in Parliament, nor had everseen or spoken with any of his electors. " Of course this worthyperson, "afterwards one of the judges of the Common Pleas, " had simplysent down his agent and bought the place. "I believe, " added Mr. Wynn, "I could without much difficulty name some who are now in the samesituation. " No doubt he could. 

[Sidenote: 1734--A supposititious minister]

Sir William Wyndham came on to speak. Wyndham was now, of course, theclose ally of Bolingbroke. He hated Walpole. He made his whole speechone long denunciation of bribery and corruption, and gave it to beunderstood that in his firm conviction Walpole only wanted a longParliament because it gave him better opportunities to bribe and tocorrupt. He went on to draw a picture of what might come to pass underan unscrupulous minister, sustained by a corrupted septennialParliament. "Let us suppose, " he said, "a gentleman at the head of theAdministration whose only safety depends upon his corrupting themembers of this House. " Of course Sir William went on to declare thathe only put this as a supposition, but it was certainly a thing whichmight come to pass, and was within the limits of possibility. If itdid come to pass, could not such a minister promise himself moresuccess in a septennial than he {13} could in a triennial Parliament?"It is an old maxim, " Wyndham said, "that every man has his price. "This allusion to the old maxim is worthy of notice in a debate on theconduct and character of Walpole. Evidently Wyndham did not fall intothe mistake which posterity appears to have made, and attribute toWalpole himself the famous words about man and his price. Suppose acase "which, though it has not happened, may possibly happen. Let ussuppose a man abandoned to all notions of virtue and honor, of no greatfamily, and of but a mean fortune, raised to be chief Minister of Stateby the concurrence of many whimsical events; afraid or unwilling totrust to any but creatures of his own making, and most of these equallyabandoned to all notions of virtue or honor; ignorant of the trueinterest of his country, and consulting nothing but that of enrichingand aggrandizing himself and his favorites. " Sir William describedthis supposititious personage as employing in foreign affairs none butmen whose education made it impossible for them to have suchqualifications as could be of any service to their country or give anycredit to their negotiations. Under the rule of this minister theorator described "the true interests of the nation neglected, her honorand credit lost, her trade insulted, her merchants plundered, and hersailors murdered, and all these things overlooked for fear only hisadministration should be endangered. Suppose this man possessed ofgreat wealth, the plunder of the nation, with a Parliament of his ownchoosing, most of their seats purchased, and their votes bought at theexpense of the public treasure. In such a Parliament let us supposeattempts made to inquire into his conduct or to relieve the nation fromthe distress he has brought upon it. " Would it not be easy to supposeall such attempts discomfited by a corrupt majority of the creatureswhom this minister "retains in daily pay or engages in his particularinterest by granting them those posts and places which never ought tobe given to any but for the good of the public?" Sir William picturedthis minister {14} pluming himself upon "his scandalous victory"because he found he had got "a Parliament, like a packed jury, ready toacquit him at all adventures. " Then, glowing with his subject, SirWilliam Wyndham ventured to suggest a case which he blandly declaredhad never yet happened in this nation, but which still might possiblyhappen. "With such a minister and such a Parliament, let us suppose aprince upon the throne, either from want of true information or forsome other reason, ignorant and unacquainted with the inclinations andthe interest of his people, weak, and hurried away by unboundedambition and insatiable avarice. Could any greater curse befall anation than such a prince on the throne, advised, and solely advised, by such a minister, and that minister supported by such a Parliament?The nature of mankind, " the orator exclaimed, "cannot be altered byhuman laws; the existence of such a prince, of such a minister, wecannot prevent by Act of Parliament; but the existence of such aParliament, I think, we may; and, as such a Parliament is much morelikely to exist, and may do more mischief while the Septennial Lawremains in force than if it were repealed, therefore I am most heartilyin favor of its immediate repeal. "

[Sidenote: 1734--An effective reply]

This was a very pretty piece of invective. It was full of spirit, fire, and force. Nobody could have failed for a moment to know theoriginal of the portrait Sir William Wyndham professed to be paintingfrom imagination. It was not indeed a true portrait of Walpole, but itwas a perfect photograph of what his enemies declared and even believedWalpole to be. Such was the picture which the _Craftsman_ and thepamphleteers were painting every day as the likeness of the greatminister; but it was something new, fresh, and bold to paint such apicture under the eyes of Walpole himself. The speech was hailed withthe wildest enthusiasm and delight by all the Jacobites, Patriots, andrepresentatives of the country interest, and there is even some goodreason to believe that it gave a certain secret satisfaction to some ofthose who most {15} steadily supported Walpole by their votes. ButWalpole was not by any means the sort of man whom it is quite safe tovisit with such an attack. The speech of Sir William Wyndham haddoubtless been carefully prepared, and Walpole had but a short time, but a breathing-space, while two or three speeches were made, in whichto get ready his reply. When he rose to address the House it soonbecame evident that he had something to say, and that he was determinedto give his adversary at least as good as he brought. Nothing could bemore effective than Walpole's method of reply. It was not to SirWilliam Wyndham that he replied; at least it was not Sir WilliamWyndham whom he attacked. Walpole passed Wyndham by altogether. Wyndham he well knew to be but the mouth-piece of Bolingbroke, and itwas at Bolingbroke that he struck. "I hope I may be allowed, " he said, "to draw a picture in my turn; and I may likewise say that I do notmean to give a description of any particular person now in being. Indeed, " Walpole added, ingenuously, "the House being cleared, I amsure no person that hears me can come within the description of theperson I am to suppose. " This was a clever touch, and gave a new barbto the dart which Walpole was about to fling. The House was cleared;none but members were present; the description applied to none withinhearing. Bolingbroke, of course, was not a member; he could not hearwhat Walpole was saying. Then Walpole went on to paint his picture. He supposed, "in this or in some other unfortunate country, ananti-minister . . . In a country where he really ought not to be, andwhere he could not have been but by an effect of too much goodness andmercy, yet endeavoring with all his might and with all his art todestroy the fountain from whence that mercy flowed. " Walpole depictedthis anti-minister as one "who thinks himself a person of so great andextensive parts, and of so many eminent qualifications, that he looksupon himself as the only person in the kingdom capable of conductingthe public affairs of the nation. " {16} Walpole supposed "this finegentleman lucky enough to have gained over to his party some persons ofreally great parts, of ancient families, and of large fortunes, andothers of desperate views, arising from disappointed and malicioushearts. " Walpole grouped with fine freehand-drawing the band ofconspirators thus formed under the leadership of this anti-minister. All the band were moved in their political behavior by him, and by himsolely. All they said, either in private or public, was "only arepetition of the words he had put into their mouths, and a spittingforth of the venom which he had infused into them. " Walpole asked theHouse to suppose, nevertheless, that this anti-minister was not reallyliked by any even of those who blindly followed him, and was hated bythe rest of mankind. He showed him contracting friendships andalliances with all foreign ministers who were hostile to his owncountry, and endeavoring to get at the political secrets of Englishadministrations in order that he might betray them to foreign andhostile States. Further, he asked the House to suppose this mantravelling from foreign court to court, making it his trade to betraythe secrets of each court where he had most lately been, void of allfaith and honor, delighting to be treacherous and traitorous to everymaster whom he had served and who had shown favor to him. "Sir, Icould carry my suppositions a great deal further; but if we can supposesuch a one as I have pictured, can there be imagined a greater disgraceto human nature than a wretch like this?"

[Sidenote: 1734--An unstable alliance]

The ministers triumphed by a majority of 247 to 184. Walpole was thevictor in more than the mere parliamentary majority. He had conqueredin the fierce parliamentary duel. 

There is a common impression that Walpole's speech hunted Bolingbrokeout of the country; that it drove him into exile and obscurity again, as Cicero's invective drove Catiline into open rebellion. This, however, is not the fact. A comparison of dates settles the question. The debate on the Septennial Bill took place in March, 1734; {17}Bolingbroke did not leave England until the early part of 1735. Theactual date of his leaving England is not certain, but Pulteney, writing to Swift on April 29, 1735, adds in a postscript: "LordBolingbroke is going to France with Lord Berkeley, but, I believe, willreturn again in a few months. " No one could have known better thanPulteney that Bolingbroke was not likely to return to England in a fewmonths. Still, although Bolingbroke did not make a hasty retreat, history is well warranted in saying that Walpole's powerful piece ofinvective closed the door once for all against Bolingbroke's career inEnglish politics. Bolingbroke could not but perceive that Walpole'saccusations against him sank deeply into the heart of the Englishpeople. He could not but see that some of those with whom he had beenmost closely allied of late years were impressed with the force of theinvective; not, indeed, by its moral force, but by the thought of theinfluence it must have on the country. It may well have occurred toPulteney, for example, as he listened to Walpole's denunciation, thatthe value of an associate was more than doubtful whom the public couldrecognize at a glance as the original of such a portrait. There hadbeen disputes now and then already. Bolingbroke was too much disposedto regard himself as master of the situation; Pulteney was notunnaturally inclined to believe that he had a much better understandingof the existing political conditions; he complained that Wyndhamsubmitted too much to Bolingbroke's dictation. The whole alliance wasfounded on unstable and unwholesome principles; it was sure to crumbleand collapse sooner or later. There can be no question but thatWalpole's invective precipitated the collapse. With consummatepolitical art he had drawn his picture of Bolingbroke in such form asto make it especially odious just then to Englishmen. The meresupposition that an English statesman has packed cards with a foreignenemy is almost enough in itself at any time to destroy a great career;to turn a popular favorite into an object of national distrust {18} oreven national detestation. But in Bolingbroke's case it was no meresupposition. No one could doubt that he had often traded on thepolitical interests of his own country. In truth, there was but littleof the Englishman about him. His gifts and his vices were alike of aforeign stamp. Walpole was, for good or ill, a genuine sturdyEnglishman. His words, his actions, his policy, his schemes, hisfaults, his vices, were thorough English. It was as an Englishman, asan English citizen, more than as a statesman or an orator, that he boredown Bolingbroke in this memorable debate. 

[Sidenote: 1734--Bolingbroke a hurtful ally]

Bolingbroke must have felt himself borne down. He did not long carryon the struggle into which he had plunged with so much alacrity andenergy, with such malice and such hope. Pulteney advised him to goback for a while to France, and in the early part of 1734 he took theadvice and went. "My part is over, " he wrote to Wyndham, in wordswhich have a certain pathetic dignity in them, "and he who remains onthe stage after his part is over deserves to be hissed off. " Hisdeparture--it might almost be called his second flight--to theContinent was probably hastened also by the knowledge that a pamphletwas about to be published by some of his enemies, containing a seriesof letters which had passed between him and James Stuart's secretary, after Bolingbroke's dismissal from the service of James in 1716. Thepamphlet was suppressed immediately on its appearance, but its contentshave been republished, and they were certainly not of a character torender Bolingbroke any the less unpopular among Englishmen. 

The correspondence consisted in a series of letters that passed betweenBolingbroke, through his secretary, and Mr. James Murray, acting onbehalf of James Stuart, from whom he afterwards received the title ofEarl of Dunbar. 

The letters are little more than mere recriminations. Bolingbroke isaccused of having brought about the failure of the insurrection of 1715by weakness, folly, and {19} even downright treachery. Bolingbrokeflings back the charges at the head of James's friends, and even ofJames himself. There was nothing brought out in 1734 and 1735 toaffect the career and conduct of Bolingbroke which all England did notknow pretty well already. Still, the revival of these old stories musthave seemed to Bolingbroke very inconvenient and dangerous at such atime. The correspondence reminded England once more that Bolingbrokehad been the agent of the exiled Stuarts in the work of stirring up acivil war for the overthrow of the House of Hanover. No doubt thepublication quickened Bolingbroke's desire to get out of England. Buthe would have gone, in any case; he would have had to go. The wholecabal with Pulteney had been a failure; Bolingbroke would thenceforwardbe a hinderance rather than a help to the Patriots. His counsel was ofno further avail, and he only brought odium on them; indeed, his advicehad from first to last been misleading and ill-omened. The Patriotswere now only anxious to get rid of him; Pulteney gave Bolingbrokepretty clearly to understand that they wanted him to go, and he went. 

Walpole's speech, and the whole of the debate of which it made sostriking a feature, could not but have a powerful effect on the generalelections. Parliament was dissolved on April 10, 1734, after havingnearly run the full course of seven years. Seldom has a generalelection been contested with such a prodigality of partisan fury andpublic corruption. Walpole scattered his purchase-money everywhere; hesowed with the sack and not with the hand, to adopt the famous sayingapplied by a Greek poetess to Pindar. In supporting two candidates forNorfolk, who were both beaten, despite his support, he spent out of hisprivate fortune at least 10, 000 pounds; one contemporary says 60, 000pounds. But the Opposition spent just as freely--more freely, perhaps. It must be remembered that even so pure-minded a man as Burke hascontended that "the charge of systematic corruption" was lessapplicable, perhaps, to Walpole "than to any other minister who ever{20} served the Crown for such a length of time. " The Opposition weredecidedly more reckless in their incitements to violence than thefriends of the Ministry. The _Craftsman_ boasted that when Walpolecame to give his vote as an honorary freeman at Norwich the peoplecalled aloud to have the bribery oath administered to him; called onhim to swear that he had received no money for his vote. All theefforts of the Patriots, or the representatives of the countryinterest, as they now preferred to call themselves, failed to bringabout the end they aimed at. They did, indeed, increase theirparliamentary vote a little, but the increase was not enough to makeany material difference in their position. All the wit, the eloquence, the craft, the courage, the unscrupulous use of every weapon ofpolitical warfare that could be seized and handled, had been thrownaway. Walpole was, for the time, just as strong as ever. 

[Sidenote: 1735--Swift's opinion of Arbuthnot]

We turn aside from the movement and rush of politics to lay a memorialspray on the grave of a good and a gifted man. Dr. Arbuthnot died inFebruary, 1735, only sixty years old. "Poor Arbuthnot, " Pulteneywrites to Swift, "who grieved to see the wickedness of mankind, and wasparticularly esteemed of his own countrymen, is dead. He lived thelast six months in a bad state of health, and hoping every night wouldbe his last; not that he endured any bodily pain, but as he was quiteweary of the world, and tired with so much bad company. " AldermanBarber, in a letter to Swift a few days after, says much the same. Heis afraid, he tells Swift, that Arbuthnot did not take as much care ofhimself as he ought to have done. "Possibly he might think the playnot worth the candle. You may remember Dr. Garth said he was glad whenhe was dying, for he was weary of having his shoes pulled off and on. "A letter from Arbuthnot himself to Swift, written a short time beforehis death, is not, however, filled with mere discontent, does notbreathe only a morbid weariness of life, but rather testifies to aserene and noble resignation. "I am going, " he tells Swift, "out {21}of this troublesome world, and you, amongst the rest of my friends, shall have my last prayers and good wishes. I am afraid, my dearfriend, we shall never see one another more in this world. I shall tothe last moment preserve my love and esteem for you, being well assuredyou will never leave the paths of virtue and honor for all that is inthe world. This world is not worth the least deviation from that way. "Thus the great physician, scientific scholar, and humorist awaited hisdeath and died. We have spoken already in this history of Arbuthnot'smarvellous humor and satire. Macaulay, in his essay on "The Life andWritings of Addison, " says "there are passages in Arbuthnot's satiricalworks which we, at least, cannot distinguish from Swift's bestwriting. " Swift himself spoke of Arbuthnot in yet higher terms. "Hehas more wit than we all have, " was Swift's declaration, "and hishumanity is equal to his wit. " There are not many satirists known tomen during all literary history of whom quite so much could be saidwith any faintest color of a regard for truth. Swift was too warm inhis friendly panegyric on Arbuthnot's humor, but he did not too highlyestimate Arbuthnot's humanity. Humor is among man's highest gifts, andhas done the world splendid service; but humor and humanity togethermake the mercy winged with brave actions, which, according toMassinger, befit "a soul moulded for heaven" and destined to be "made astar there. "

{22}

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE "FAMILY COMPACT. "

[Sidenote: 1735--The Polish throne]

The new Parliament met on January 14, 1735. The Royal intimation wasgiven to the House of Commons by the Lord Chancellor that it was hisMajesty's pleasure that they should return to their own House andchoose a Speaker. Arthur Onslow was unanimously elected, or ratherre-elected, to the chair he had filled with so much distinction in theformer Parliament. The speech from the throne was not delivered untilJanuary 23. The speech was almost all taken up with foreign affairs, with the war on the Continent, and the efforts of the King and hisministers, in combination with the States General of the UnitedProvinces, to extinguish it. "I have the satisfaction to acquaintyou, " the King said, "that things are now brought to so great aforwardness that I hope in a short time a plan will be offered to theconsideration of all the parties engaged in the present war, as a basisfor a general negotiation of peace, in which the honor and the interestof all parties have been consulted as far as the circumstances of timeand the present posture of affairs would admit. " The Royal speech didnot contain one single word which had to do with the internal conditionof England, with the daily lives of the English people. No legislationwas promised, or even hinted at, which concerned the domestic interestsof these islands. The House of Lords set to work at once in thepreparation of an address in reply to the speech from the throne; andthey, too, debated only of foreign affairs, and took no more account oftheir own fellow-countrymen than of the dwellers in Jupiter or Saturn. 

{23}

The war to which the Royal speech referred had been dragging along forsome time. No quarrel could have less direct interest for the Englishpeople than that about which the Emperor Charles the Sixth and the Kingof France, Louis the Fifteenth, were fighting. On the death ofAugustus the Second of Poland, in February, 1733, Louis thought it agood opportunity for putting his own father-in-law, StanislausLeszczynski, back on the throne of Poland, from which he had twice beendriven. Poland was a republic with an elective king, and a verypeculiar form of constitution, by virtue of which any one of theestates or electoral colleges of the realm was in a position to stopthe action of all the others at any crisis when decision was especiallyneeded. The result of this was that the elected king was always anominee of one or another of the great Continental Powers who took iton themselves to intervene in the affairs of Poland. The election of aKing of Poland was always a mere struggle between these Powers: thestrongest at the moment carried its man. Stanislaus, the father ofLouis the Fifteenth's wife, had been a _protégé_ of Charles the Twelfthof Sweden. He was a man of illustrious family and of great and variedabilities, a scholar and a writer. Charles drove Augustus the Second, Augustus, Elector of Saxony, from the throne of Poland, and set upStanislaus in his place. Stanislaus, however, was driven out of thecountry by Augustus and his friends, who rallied and became strong inthe temporary difficulties of Charles. When Charles found time to turnhis attention to Poland he soon overthrew Augustus and set upStanislaus once again. But "hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day";the fall of the great Charles came, and brought with it the fall ofStanislaus. Augustus re-entered Poland at the head of a Saxon army, and Stanislaus was compelled to abdicate. Now that Augustus was dead, Louis the Fifteenth determined to bring Stanislaus out from hisretirement of many years and set him for the third time on the Polishthrone. On the other hand, the Emperor and Russia alike favored theson of {24} the late king, another Augustus, Elector of Saxony. TheFrench party carried Stanislaus, although at the time of hisabdication, three or four and twenty years before, he had been declaredincapable of ever again being elected King of Poland. The Saxon party, secretly backed up by Russia, resisted Stanislaus, attacked hispartisans, drove him once more from Warsaw, and proclaimed Augustus theThird. Louis of France declared war, not on Russia, but on theEmperor, alleging that the Emperor had been the inspiration and supportof the Saxon movement. A French army under Marshal Berwick, son ofJames the Second of England, crossed the Rhine and took the fort ofKehl--the scene of a memorable crossing of the Rhine, to be recrossedvery rapidly after, in days nearer to our own. Spain and Sardinia werein alliance with Louis, and the Emperor's army, although led by thegreat Eugene, "Der edle Ritter, " was not able to make head against theFrench. The Emperor sent frequent urgent and impassioned appeals toEngland for assistance. George was anxious to lend him a helping hand, clamored to be allowed to take the field himself and win glory inbattle; camps and battle-fields were what he loved most, he keptdinning into Walpole's unappreciative ear. Even the Queen was notdisinclined to draw the sword in defence of an imperilled and harassedally. 

[Sidenote: 1735--The Emperor's denunciation of Walpole]

Walpole stuck to his policy of masterly inactivity. He would havewished to exclude Stanislaus from the Polish throne, but he was notwilling to go to war with France. He could not bring himself tobelieve that the interests of England were concerned in the struggle tosuch a degree as to warrant the waste of English money and the pouringout of English blood. But he did not take his stand on such a broadand clear position; indeed at that time it would not have been a firmor a tenable position. Walpole did not venture to say that thequestion whether this man or that was to sit on the throne of Polandwas not worth the life of one British grenadier. The time had not comewhen even a great minister might venture {25} to look at aninternational quarrel from such a point of view. Walpole temporized, delayed, endeavored to bring about a reconciliation of claims;endeavored to get at something like a mediation; carried on prolongednegotiations with the Government of the Netherlands to induce theStates General to join with England in an offer of mediation. TheEmperor was all the time sending despatches to England, in which hebitterly complained that he had been deceived and deserted. He laidall the blame on Walpole's head. Pages of denunciation of Walpole andall Walpole's family are to be found in these imperial despatches. Walpole remained firm to his purpose. He would not go to war, but itdid not suit him to proclaim his determination. He kept up hisappearance of active negotiation, and he trusted to time to settle thequestion one way or the other before King George should get toorestive, and should insist on plunging into the war. He had many anuneasy hour, but his policy succeeded in the end. 

The controversy out of which the war began was complicated by otherquestions and made formidable by the rival pursuit of other ends thanthose to be acknowledged in public treaty. It would be unjust and evenabsurd to suppose that Walpole's opponents believed England had adirect interest in the question of the Polish succession, or that theywould have shed the blood of English grenadiers merely in order thatthis candidate and not that should be on the throne of Poland. Whatthe Opposition contended was that the alliance of France and Spain wasin reality directed quite as much against England as against theEmperor. In this they were perfectly right. It was directed as muchagainst England as against the Emperor. Little more than forty yearsago a collection of treaties and engagements entered into by theSpanish branch of the Bourbon family found its way to the light of dayin Madrid. The publication was the means of pouring a very flood oflight on some events which perplexed and distracted the outer world inthe days at {26} which, in the course of this history, we have nowarrived. We speak especially of the Polish war of succession and thepolicy pursued with regard to it by France and Spain. The collectionof documents contained a copy of a treaty or arrangement entered intobetween the King of France and the King of Spain in 1733. This was, infact, the first family compact, the first of a series of familycompacts, entered into between the Bourbons in Versailles and theBourbons in Madrid. The engagement, which in modern European historyis conventionally known as "the family compact" between the BourbonHouses, the compact of 1761, the compact which Burke described as "themost odious and formidable of all the conspiracies against theliberties of Europe that ever have been framed, " was really only thethird of a series. The second compact was in 1743. The object ofthese successive agreements was one and the same: to maintain andextend the possessions of the Bourbons in Europe and outside Europe, and to weaken and divide the supposed enemies of Bourbon supremacy. England was directly aimed at as one of the foremost of those enemies. In the compact of 1733 the King of France and the King of Spain pledgedthemselves to the interests of "the most serene infant Don Carlos, "afterwards for a time King of the Sicilies, and then finally King ofSpain. The compact defined the alliance as "a mutual guarantee of allthe possessions and the honor, interests, and glory" of the two Houses. It was described as an alliance to protect Don Carlos, and the familygenerally, against the Emperor and against England. France boundherself to aid Spain with all her forces by land or sea if Spain shouldsee fit to suspend "England's enjoyment of commerce, " and Englandshould retaliate by hostilities on the dominions of Spain, within oroutside of Europe. The French King also pledged himself to employwithout interruption his most pressing instances to induce the King ofGreat Britain to restore Gibraltar to Spain; pledged himself even touse force for this purpose if necessary. There were full and precise{27} stipulations about the disposition of armies and naval squadronsunder various conditions. One article in the treaty bluntly declaredthat the foreign policy of both States, France and Spain, was to be"guided exclusively by the interests of the House. " The engagement wasto be kept secret, and was to be regarded "from that day as an eternaland irrevocable family compact. " No conspiracy ever could have beenmore flagrant, more selfish, and more cruel. The deeper we get intothe secrets of European history, the more we come to learn the truththat the crowned conspirators were always the worst. 

[Sidenote: 1735--Compact between the Houses of Bourbon]

This first family compact is the key to all the subsequent history ofEuropean wars down to the days of the French Revolution. The object ofone set of men was to maintain and add to the advantages secured tothem by the Treaty of Utrecht; the object of another set of men was toshake themselves free from the disadvantages and disqualificationswhich that treaty imposed on them. The Bourbon family were possessedwith the determination to maintain the position in Spain which the willof Charles the Second had bequeathed to them, and which after so manyyears of war and blood had been ratified by the Treaty of Utrecht. They wanted to maintain their position in Spain; but they wanted notthat alone. They wanted much more. They wanted to plant a firm footin Italy; they wanted to annex border provinces to France; they sawthat their great enemy was England, and they wanted to weaken and todamage her. No reasonable Englishman can find fault with the Kings ofSpain for their desire to recover Gibraltar. An English sovereignwould have conspired with any foreign State for the recovery of DoverCastle and rock if these were held by a Spanish invader too strong tobe driven out by England single-handed. Many Englishmen were ofopinion then, some are of opinion now, that it would be an act of wiseand generous policy to give Gibraltar back to the Spanish people. Butno Englishman could possibly doubt that if England were determined tokeep Gibraltar she must {28} hold it her duty to watch with the keenestattention every movement which indicated an alliance between France andSpain. 

Spain had at one time sought security for her interests, and a newchance for her ambitions, by alliance with the Emperor. Of late shehad found that the Emperor generally got all the subsidies and all theother advantages of the alliance, and that Spain was left rather worseoff after each successive settlement than she was before it. Thefamily compact between the two Houses of Bourbon was one result of herexperience in this way. Of course, when we talk of France and Spain, we are talking merely of the Courts and the families. The people ofFrance and Spain were never consulted, and, indeed, were never thoughtof, in these imperial and regal engagements. Nor at this particularjuncture had the King of Spain much more to do with the matter than thehumblest of his people. King Philip the Fifth was a hypochondriac, ahalf-demented creature, almost a madman. He was now the tame andwilling subject of the most absolute petticoat government. His secondwife, Elizabeth of Parma, ruled him with firm, unswerving hand. Herson, Don Carlos, was heir in her right to the Duchies of Parma andPlacentia, but she was ambitious of a brighter crown for him, and wentinto the war with an eye to the throne of Naples. The Emperor soonfound that he could not hold out against the alliance, and consented toaccept the mediation of England and the United Provinces. 

The negotiations were long and dragging. Many times it became apparentthat Louis on his part was only pretending a willingness to compromiseand make peace in order to strengthen himself the more for the completeprosecution of a successful war. At last a plan of pacification wasagreed upon between England and Holland and at the same time the Kingof England entered into an alliance, offensive and defensive, with theKing of Denmark, this latter treaty, as George significantly describedit in the speech from the throne, "of great importance in {29} thepresent conjuncture. " These engagements did not pass without severecriticism in Parliament. It was pointed out with effect that thenation had for some time back been engaged in making treaty aftertreaty, each new engagement being described as essential to the safetyof the empire, but each proving in turn to be utterly inefficacious. In the House of Lords a dissatisfied peer described the situation verywell. "The last treaty, " he said, "always wanted a new one in order tocarry it into execution, and thus, my Lords, we have been a-botchingand piecing up one treaty with another for several years. " Thebotching and piecing up did not in this instance prevent the outbreakof the war. The opposing forces, after long delays, at length rushedat each other, and, as was said in the speech from the throne at theopening of the session of 1736, "the war was carried on in some partsin such a manner as to give very just apprehensions that it wouldunavoidably become general, from an absolute necessity of preservingthat balance of power on which the safety and commerce of the maritimepowers so much depend. " With any other minister than Walpole to manageaffairs, England would unquestionably have been drawn into the war. Walpole's strong determination and ingenious delays carried his policythrough. 

[Sidenote: 1735--"Bonnie Prince Charlie"]

The war has one point of peculiar and romantic interest for Englishmen. Charles Edward Stuart, the "bonnie Prince Charlie" of a later date, thehero and darling of so much devotion, poetry, and romance, received hisbaptism of fire in the Italian campaign under Don Carlos. CharlesEdward was then a mere boy. He was born in the later days of 1720, andwas now about the age to serve some picturesque princess as her page. He was sent as a volunteer to the siege of Gaeta, and was received withevery mark of honor by Don Carlos. The English Court heard rumors thatDon Carlos had gone out of his way to pay homage to the Stuart prince, and had even acted in a manner to give the impression that heidentified himself with the cause of the exiled family. There weredemands {30} for explanation made by the English minister at theSpanish Court, and explanations were given and excuses offered. It wasall merely because of a request made by the Duke of Berwick's son, theSpanish prime-minister said. The Duke of Berwick's son askedpermission to bring his cousin Charles Edward to serve as a volunteer, and the Court of Spain consented, not seeing the slightest objection tosuch a request; but there was not the faintest idea of receiving theboy as a king's son. King George and Queen Caroline were both veryangry, but Walpole wisely told them that they must either resent theoffence thoroughly, and by war, or accept the explanations and pretendto be satisfied with them. Walpole's advice prevailed, and the boyprince fleshed his maiden sword without giving occasion to George theSecond to seek the ensanguined laurels for which he told Walpole he hadlong been thirsting. The Hanoverian kings were, to do them justice, generally rather magnanimous in their way of treating the pretensionsof the exiled family. We may fairly assume that the conduct of theSpanish prince in this instance did somewhat exceed legitimate bounds. George was wise, however, in consenting to accept the explanations, andto make as little of the incident as the Court of Spain professed to do. 

[Sidenote: 1735--Success of Walpole's policy]

Incidents such as this, and the interchange of explanations which hadto follow them, naturally tended to stretch out the negotiations forpeace which England was still carrying on. Again and again it seemedas if the attempts to bring about a settlement of the controversy mustall be doomed to failure. At last, however, terms of arrangement wereconcluded. Augustus was acknowledged King of Poland. Stanislaus wasallowed to retain the royal title, and was put in immediate possessionof the Duchy of Lorraine, which after his death was to become aprovince of France. The Spanish prince obtained the throne of the TwoSicilies. France was thought to have done a great thing for herself bythe annexation of Lorraine; in later times it seemed to have been anill-omened acquisition. {31} The terms of peace were, on the whole, about as satisfactory as any one could have expected. Walpolecertainly had got all he wanted. He wanted to keep England out of thewar, and he wanted at the same time to maintain and to reassert herinfluence over the politics of the Continent. He accomplished boththese objects. Bolingbroke said it was only Walpole's luck. Historymore truly says it was Walpole's patience and genius. 

Did Walpole know all this time that there was a distinct and deliberatefamily compact, a secret treaty of alliance, a formal, circumstantial, binding agreement, consigned to written words, between France andSpain, for the promotion of their common desires and for the cripplingof England's power? Mr. J. R. Green appears to be convinced that"neither England nor Walpole" knew of it. The English people certainlydid not know of it; and it is commonly taken for granted by historiansthat while Walpole was pursuing his policy of peace he was not aware ofthe existence of this family compact. It has even been pleaded, indefence of him and his policy, that he did not know that the war, inwhich he believed England to have little or no interest, was only oneoutcome of a secret plot, having for its object, among other objects, the humiliation and the detriment of England. There are writers whoseem to assume it as a matter of certainty that if Walpole had known ofthis family compact he would have adopted a very different course. Butdoes it by any means follow that, even if he had been all the time inpossession of a correct copy of the secret agreement, he would haveacted otherwise than as he did act? Does it follow that if Walpole didknow all about it, he was wrong in adhering to his policy ofnon-intervention? A very interesting and instructive essay byProfessor Seely on the House of Bourbon, published in the first numberof the _English Historical Review_, makes clear as light the place ofthis first family compact in the history of the wars that succeeded it. Professor Seely puts it beyond dispute that in every subsequentmovement of France and Spain the {32} working of this compact was madeapparent. He shows that it was fraught with the most formidable dangerto England. Inferentially he seems to convey the idea that Walpole waswrong when he clung to his policy of masterly inactivity, and that heought to have intervened in the interests of England. We admit all hispremises and reject his conclusion. 

Walpole might well have thought that the best way to mar the object ofthe conspirators against England was to keep England as much aspossible out of continental wars. He might well have thought that solong as England was prosperous and strong she could afford to smile atthe machinations of any foreign kings and statesmen. We may be surethat he would not have allowed himself to be drawn away from the pathof policy he thought it expedient to follow by any mere feelings ofanger at the enmity of the foreign kings and statesmen. He might havefelt as a composed and strong-minded man would feel who, quitedetermined not to sit down to the gaming-table, is amused by thesignals which he sees passing between the cheating confederates who aremaking preparations to win his money. Besides, even if he knew nothingof the family compact, he certainly was not ignorant of the generalscope of the policy of France and of Spain. He was not a man likely atany time to put too much trust in princes or in any other persons, andwe need not doubt that in making his calculations he took into fullaccount the possibility of France and Spain packing cards for theinjury of England. The existence of the family compact is a veryinteresting fact in history, and enables us now to understand withperfect clearness many things that must have perplexed and astonishedthe readers of an earlier day. But, so far as the policy of Walpoleregarding the war of the Polish Succession was concerned, we do notbelieve that it would have been modified to any considerable extent, even if he had been in full possession of all the secret papers in thecabinet of the King of France and the Queen of Spain. 

{33}

[Sidenote: 1735--Professor Seely and the secret treaty]

But is it certain that Walpole did not know of the existence of thissecret treaty? It is certain now that if he did not know of it hemight have known. Other English statesmen of the day did know ofit--at least, had heard that such a thing was in existence, and were ormight have been forewarned against it. Professor Seely puts it beyonddoubt that the family compact was talked of and written of by Englishdiplomatists at the time, was believed in by some, treated scepticallyby others. The Duke of Newcastle actually called it by the very namewhich history formally gives to the arrangement made many years afterand denounced by Burke. He speaks of "the offensive and defensivealliance between France and Spain, called the _pacte de famille_. " Isit likely, is it credible, that Walpole had never heard of theexistence of a compact which was known to the Duke of Newcastle?Archdeacon Coxe, in his "Life of Walpole, " contends that Newcastle wasnot by any means the merely absurd sort of person whom most historiansand biographers delight to paint him. "He had a quick comprehensionand was a ready debater, " Coxe says, although without grace or style. "He wrote with uncommon facility and great variety of expression, andin his most confidential letters, written so quickly as to be almostillegible, there is scarcely a single alteration or erasure. " Butcertainly Newcastle was not a man likely to keep to himself theknowledge of such a fact as the family compact, or even the knowledgethat some people believed in the existence of such an arrangement. Forourselves, we are quite prepared to assume that Walpole had heard ofthe family compact, but that it did not disturb his calculations ordisarrange his policy. From some of his own letters written at thetime it is evident that he did not put any faith in the abiding natureof family compacts between sovereigns. More than once he takesoccasion to point out that where political interests interfered familyarrangements went to the wall. As to the general rule Walpole wasquite right. We have seen the fact illustrated over and over againeven in our {34} own days. But Walpole appears to have overlooked theimportant peculiarity of this family compact; it was an engagement inwhich the political interests and the domestic interests of thefamilies were at last inextricably intertwined; it was a reciprocalagreement for the protection of common interests and the attainment ofcommon objects. Such a compact might be trusted to hold good evenamong Bourbon princes. On the whole, we are inclined to come to theconclusion that if Walpole knew anything about the compact--and wethink he did know something about it--he was quite right in notallowing it to disturb his policy of non-intervention, but that he wasnot quite sound in his judgment if he held his peaceful course onlybecause he did not believe that such a family bond between members ofsuch a family would hold good. "Tenez, prince, " the Duc d'Aumale wroteto Prince Napoleon-Jérôme in a pamphlet which was once famous, "thereis one promise of a Bonaparte which we can always believe--the promisethat he will kill somebody. " One pledge of a Bourbon with anotherBourbon the world could always rely upon--the pledge to maintain acommon interest and gratify a common ambition. 

[Sidenote: 1735--Death of Berwick]

The war cost one illustrious life, that of the brave and noble Duke ofBerwick, whom Montesquieu likened to the best of the heroes ofPlutarch, or rather in whom Montesquieu declared that he saw the bestof Plutarch's heroes in the life. When Bolingbroke was denouncing theset of men who surrounded James Stuart at St. Germains he speciallyexempted Berwick from reproach. He spoke of Berwick as one "who has ahundred times more capacity and credit than all the rest put together, "but added significantly that he "is not to be reckoned of the Court, though he has lodgings in the house. " Berwick was the natural son ofJames the Second and Arabella Churchill, sister to the Duke ofMarlborough. When the day of James's destiny as King of England wasover, Berwick gave his bright sword to the service of France. Hebecame a naturalized Frenchman and rose to the command {35} of theFrench army. He won the splendid victory of Almanza over the combinedforces of England and her various allies. "A Roman by a Romanvaliantly o'ercome, " defeated Englishmen might have exclaimed. He waskilled by a cannon-ball on ground not far from that whereon the greatTurenne had fallen--killed by the cannon-ball which, according toMadame de Sevigne, was charged from all eternity for the hero's death. Berwick was well deserving of a death in some nobler struggle than thetrumpery quarrel got up by ignoble ambitions and selfish, graspingpolicies. He ought to have died in some really great cause; it was anage of gallant soldiers--an age, however, that brought out none moregallant than Berwick. Of him it might fairly be said that "hismourners were two hosts, his friends and foes. " This unmeaning littlewar--unmeaning in the higher sense--was also the last campaign of theillustrious Prince Eugene. Eugene did all that a general could do tohold up against overwhelming odds, and but for him the victory of theFrench would have been complete. The short remainder of his life waspassed in peace. 

Walpole gave satisfaction to some of those who disliked his peacepolicy by the energy with which he entered into the settlement of apetty quarrel between Spain and Portugal. The dispute turned on amerely personal question concerning the arrest and imprisonment of someservants of the Portuguese minister at Madrid. Walpole was eagerlyappealed to by Portugal, and he took up her cause promptly. He went sofar as to make a formidable "naval demonstration, " as we should nowcall it, in her favor. But he was reasonable, and he was determinedthat Portugal too should be reasonable. He recommended her to show awillingness to come to terms, while at the same time he brought so muchpressure to bear on Spain that Spain at last consented to refer thewhole dispute to the arbitrament of England and France. The quarrelwas settled, and a convention was signed at Madrid in July, 1736. Itwas a small matter, but it might at such a time have led {36} toserious and increasing complications if it had been allowed to go toofar. Walpole unquestionably showed great judgment and firmness in hisconduct, and he bore himself with entire impartiality. Spain was inthe wrong, he thought, but not so absolutely or wilfully in the wrongas to justify Portugal in standing out for too stringent terms ofreparation. At one time it seemed almost probable that the Englishminister would have to employ force to coerce his own client into termsas well as the other party to the suit. But Walpole "put his footdown, " as the modern phrase goes, and the danger was averted. EvenCardinal Fleury, who co-operated with Walpole in bringing about thesettlement, thought at one time that Walpole was too strenuous and waslikely to overshoot the mark. 

[Sidenote: 1736--Walpole's peace policy]

England had troubles enough of her own and at home about this time tooccupy and absorb the attention of the most devoted minister. To doWalpole justice, it was no fault of his if the activity of Englishstatesmanship was compelled to engage itself rather in the composing ofpetty quarrels between Spain and Portugal than in any continuous effortto improve the condition of the population of these islands. He had atleast a full comprehension of the fact that domestic prosperity has agood deal to do with sound finance, and that sound finance depends verymuch upon a sound foreign policy. But the utter defeat of his excisescheme had put Walpole out of the mood for making experiments whichmight prove to be in advance of the age. He had no ambition to be inadvance of his age. He was not dispirited or disheartened; he was nota man to be dispirited or disheartened, but he was made cautious. Hehad got into a frame of mind with regard to financial reform somethinglike that into which the younger Pitt grew in his later years withregard to Catholic emancipation: he knew what ought to be done, butfelt that he was not able to do it, and therefore shrugged hisshoulders and let the world go its way. Walpole was honestly proud ofhis peace policy; more {37} than once he declared with exultation thatwhile there were fifty thousand men killed in Europe during thestruggle just ended, the field of dead did not contain the body of asingle Englishman. Seldom in the history of England has Englishstatesmanship had such a tale to tell. 

{38}

CHAPTER XXIII. 

ROYAL FAMILY AFFAIRS. 

[Sidenote: 1736--The Sovereign of Hanover]

George, and his wife Caroline Wilhelmina Dorothea, had a somewhat largefamily. Their eldest son, Frederick Lewis, Prince of Wales and Duke ofGloucester, was born on January 20, 1706. Two other sons died, one themoment after his birth, the other after scarcely a year of breath. William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, was born in 1721. There werefive daughters: Anne, Amelia or Emily, Caroline, Mary, and Louisa. ThePrincess Caroline seems to have been by far the most lovable of thewhole family. She inherited much of her mother's cleverness withouther mother's coarseness. "Princess Caroline, " says Lord Hervey, "hadaffability without meanness, dignity without pride, cheerfulnesswithout levity, and prudence without falsehood. " Her figure indeed isone of the bright redeeming visions in all that chapter of Courthistory. She stands out among the rough, coarse, self-seeking men andwomen somewhat as Sophy Western does among the personages of "TomJones. " Her tender inclination towards Lord Hervey makes her seem allthe more sweet and womanly; her influence over him is always apparent. He never speaks of her without seeming to become at once more manly andgentle, strong and sweet. Of the other princesses, Emily had perhapsthe most marked character, but there would appear to have been littlein her to admire. Hervey says of her that she had the least sense ofall the family, except, indeed, her brother Frederick; and we shallsoon come to appreciate the significance of this comparison. 

{39}

Frederick, the eldest son, like George the Second himself, had not beenallowed to come to England in his early days. The young prince was inhis twenty-second year when, on the accession of his father to thethrone, he was brought over to this country and created Prince ofWales. At that time he was well spoken of generally, although eventhen it was known to every one that he was already addicted to some ofthe vices of his father and his grandfather. The Court of Hanover wasnot a good school for the training of young princes. The sovereign ofHanover was a positive despot, both politically and socially. Everything had to be done to please him, to amuse him, to conciliatehim. The women around the Court were always vying with each other tosee who should most successfully flatter the King, or, in the King'sabsence, the Royal Prince. It was intellectually a very stupid Court. Its pleasures were vulgar, its revels coarse, its whole atmosphereheavy and sensuous. Frederick was said, however, to have given someevidence of a more cultivated taste than might have been expected of aHanoverian Crown Prince. He was said to have some appreciation ofletters and music. When he settled in London he very soon began tofollow the example of his father and his grandfather; he threw hishandkerchief to this lady and to that, and the handkerchief was incertain cases very thankfully taken up. Some people said that heentered on this way of life not so much because he really had a strongpredilection for it as because he thought it would be unbecoming of theposition of a Prince of Wales not to have an adequate number of womenfavorites about him; so he maintained what seemed to him the dignity ofhis place in society and in the State. 

The prince's character at his first coming over, says Hervey in hispleasantest vein, though little more respectable, seemed much moreamiable than, upon his opening himself further and being better known, it turned out to be; for, though there appeared nothing in him to be{40} admired, yet there seemed nothing in him to be hated--neitheranything great nor anything vicious; his behavior was something thatgained one's good wishes though it gave one no esteem for him. If hisbest qualities prepossessed people in his favor, yet they alwaysprovoked contempt for him at the same time; for, though his mannerswere stamped with a good deal of natural or habitual civility, yet hishabit of cajoling everybody, and almost in an equal degree, made whatmight have been thought favors, if more sparingly bestowed, lose alltheir weight. "He carried this affectation of general benevolence sofar that he often condescended below the character of a prince; and, aspeople attributed this familiarity to popular and not particularmotives, so it only lessened their respect without increasing theirgood-will, and, instead of giving them good impressions of hishumanity, only gave them ill ones of his sincerity. He was indeed asfalse as his capacity would allow him to be, and was more capable inthat walk than in any other, never having the least hesitation, fromprinciple or fear of future detection, of telling any lie that servedhis present purpose. He had a much weaker understanding and, ifpossible, a more obstinate temper than his father; that is, moretenacious of opinions he had once formed, though less capable of everforming right ones. Had he had one grain of merit at the bottom of hisheart, one should have had compassion for him in the situation to whichhis miserable poor head soon reduced him, for his case in short wasthis: he had a father that abhorred him, a mother that despised him, sisters that betrayed him, a brother set up against him, and a set ofservants that neglected him, and were neither of use nor capable ofbeing of use to him, nor desirous of being so. "

[Sidenote: 1736--Resolved on a marriage]

The King's eldest daughter, Anne, was married soon after Frederick'scoming to England. Up to the age of twenty-four she had remainedunmarried, a long time for a princess to continue a spinster. Manyyears before, she had had a good chance of marrying Louis the Fifteenth{41} of France. George was anxious for the marriage; the Duc deBourbon, then minister to Louis, had originated the idea; Anne was onlysixteen years old, and would no doubt have offered no objection. Butthe scheme fell through because when it was well on its way somebodysuddenly remembered, what every one might have thought of before, thatif the English princess became Queen of France she would be expected toconform to the religion of the State. Political rather than religiousconsiderations made this settle the matter in the English Court. George and Caroline had certainly no prejudices themselves in favor ofone form of religion over another, or of any form of religion overnone; but, as they held the English Crown by virtue of their at leastprofessing to be Protestants, and as the Pretender would most assuredlyhave got that Crown if he had even professed to be a Protestant, it didnot seem possible that they could countenance a change of Church on thepart of their daughter. Years passed away and no husband was offeringhimself to Anne. Now at last she was determined that she would wait nolonger. Suddenly the Prince of Orange was induced to ask her to be hiswife. She had never seen him; he was known to be ugly and deformed;King George was opposed to the proposition, and told his daughter thatthe prince was the ugliest man in Holland. Anne was determined not torefuse the offer; she said she would marry him if he were a Dutchbaboon. "Very well, " retorted the King, angrily; "you will find himbaboon enough, I can tell you. "

The princess persevered, however; she was as firmly resolved to getmarried as Miss Hoyden in Vanbrugh's "Relapse. " The King sent amessage to Parliament announcing the approaching marriage of hisdaughter to the Prince of Orange, and graciously intimating that heexpected the House of Commons to help him to give the princess amarriage-portion. The loyal Commons undertook to find eighty thousandpounds, although George was surely rich enough to have paid hisdaughter's dowry out {42} of his own pocket. George, however, had notthe remotest notion of doing anything of the kind. The Bill was runthrough the House of Commons in a curious sort of way, the vote for thedowry being thrown in with a little bundle of miscellaneous votes, asif the House of Commons were rather anxious to keep it out of publicsight, as indeed they probably were. The bridegroom came to England inNovember, 1732, and began his career in this country by falling veryill. It took him months to recover, and it was not until March 24, 1733, that the marriage was celebrated. It must have been admitted byAnne that her father had not misrepresented the personal appearance ofthe Prince of Orange. The Queen shed abundance of tears at the sightof the bridegroom, and yet could not help sometimes bursting into a fitof laughter at his oddity and ugliness. Anne bore her awkward positionwith a sort of stolid composure which was almost dignity. To add tothe other unsatisfactory conditions of the marriage, the prophets ofevil began to point to the ominous conjuncture of names--an Englishprincess married to a Prince of Orange. When this happened last, whatfollowed? The expulsion of the father-in-law by the son-in-law. Goto, then!

[Sidenote: 1736--Massachusetts Bay retaliates]

On the same day on which the House of Commons voted the grant of theprincess's dowry, a memorial from the council and representatives ofthe colony or province of Massachusetts Bay, in New England, waspresented and read from the table. The memorial set forth that theprovince was placed under conditions of difficulty and distress owingto a royal instruction given to the governor of the provincerestraining the emission of its bills of credit and restricting thedisposal of its public money. The memorial, which seems to have beencouched in the most proper and becoming language, prayed that the Housewould allow the agent for the province to be heard at the bar, and thatthe House, if satisfied of the justice of the request, would use itsinfluence with the King in order that he might be graciously pleased towithdraw {43} the instructions as contrary to the rights of the charterof Massachusetts Bay, and tending in their nature to distress if not toruin the province. The House of Commons treated this petition with themost sovereign contempt. After a very short discussion, if it couldeven be called a discussion, the House passed a resolution declaringthe complaint "frivolous and groundless, a high insult upon hisMajesty's Government, and tending to shake off the dependency of thesaid colony upon this kingdom, to which by law and right they are andought to be subject. " The petition was therefore rejected. To theshort summary of this piece of business contained in the parliamentarydebates the comment is quietly added, "We shall leave to future ages tomake remarks upon this resolution, but it seems not much to encouragecomplaints to Parliament from any of our colonies in the West Indies. "Not many ages, not many years even, had to pass before emphatic commenton such a mode of dealing with the complaints of the American colonieswas made by the American colonists themselves. Massachusetts Bay tooksterner measures next time to make her voice heard and get her wrongsredressed. Just forty years after the insulting and contemptuousrejection of the petition of Massachusetts Bay, the people of Bostonspilled the stores of tea into Boston harbor, and two years later still"the embattled farmer, " as Emerson calls him, stood up to the Britishtroops at Lexington, in Massachusetts, and won the battle. 

On Wednesday, May 30th, the second reading of the Bill for theprincess's dowry came on in the House of Lords. Several of the peerscomplained warmly of the manner in which the grant to the princess hadbeen stuck into a general measure disposing of various sums of money. It was a Bill of items. There was a sum of 500, 000 pounds for thecurrent service of the year. There was 10, 000 pounds by way of acharity "for those distressed persons who are to transport themselvesto the colony of Georgia. " There was a vote for the repairing of anold church, and there {44} were other votes of much the same kind; andamid them came the item for the dowry of the Royal Princess. The Earlof Winchelsea complained of this strange method of huddling thingstogether, and declared it highly unbecoming to see the grant made "insuch a hotch-potch Bill--a Bill which really seems to be the sweepingsof the other House. " The Earl of Crawford declared it a most indecentthing to provide the marriage-portion of the Princess Royal of Englandin such a manner; "it is most disrespectful to the royal family. " TheDuke of Newcastle could only say in defence of the course taken by theGovernment that he saw nothing disrespectful or inconvenient in themanner of presenting the vote. Indeed, he went on to argue, or ratherto assert, for he did not attempt to argue, that it was the only way bywhich such a provision could have been made. It could not well havebeen done by a particular Bill, he said, because the marriage was notas yet fully concluded. But the resolution of the House of Commons wasthat out of the money then remaining in the receipt of the Exchequerarisen by the sale of the lands in the island of St. Christopher's hisMajesty be enabled to apply the sum of 80, 000 pounds for themarriage-portion of the Princess Royal. What possible difficulty therecould be about the presenting of that resolution in the form of aseparate Bill, or how such a form of presentation could have beenaffected by the fact that the marriage had not yet actually beenconcluded, only a brain like that of the Duke of Newcastle couldsettle. Of course the Bill was passed; each noble lord who criticisedit was louder than the other in declaring that he had not the slightestnotion of opposing it. "I am so fond, " said the Earl of Winchelsea, "of enabling his Majesty to provide a sufficient marriage-portion forthe Princess Royal that I will not oppose this Bill. " There was muchexcuse for being fond of providing his Majesty in this instance, seeingthat the money was not to be found by the tax-payers. Probably thetrue reason why the grant was asked in a manner which would not be {45}thought endurable in our days, was that the Government well knew theKing himself cared as little about the marriage as the people did, andwere of opinion that the more the grant was huddled up the better. 

[Sidenote: 1736--A projected double alliance]

We get one or two notes about this time that seem to have a forecast oflater days in them. An explosion of some kind takes place inWestminster Hall while all the courts of justice were sitting. Nogreat harm seems to have been done, but the event naturally startledpeople, and was instantly regarded as evidence of a Jacobite plot toassassinate somebody; it was not very clear who was the particularobject of hatred. Walpole wrote to his brother, telling him of theexplosion, and adding, "There is no reason to doubt that the wholething was projected and executed by a set of low Jacobites who talkedof setting fire to the gallery built for the marriage of the PrincessRoyal" by means of "a preparation which they call phosphorus, thattakes fire by the air. " About the same time, too, we hear of anoutbreak of anti-Irish riots in Shoreditch and other parts of the eastend of London. The "cry and complaint" of the anti-Irish was, asWalpole described the matter, that they were underworked and starved byIrishmen. Numbers of Irishmen, it would seem, were beginning to comeover to this country, not merely to labor in harvesting in the ruraldistricts, as they had long been accustomed to do, but undertaking workof all kinds at lower wages than English workmen were accustomed toreceive. "The cry is, Down with the Irish, " Walpole says; and Dr. Sheridan, Swift's correspondent, proclaiming in terms of humorousexaggeration his desire to get out of Cavan, protests that, failing allother means of relief, "I will try England, where the predominantphrase is, Down with the Irish. "

George had at one time set his heart upon a double alliance between hisfamily and that of King Frederick William of Prussia. The desire ofGeorge was that his eldest son, Frederick, should marry the eldestdaughter of the Prussian King, and that the Prussian King's eldest {46}son should marry George's second daughter. The negotiation, however, came to nothing. The King of Prussia was prevailed upon to makeobjections to it by those around him who feared that he might bebrought too much under the influence of England; and, indeed, it issaid that he himself became a little afraid of some possibleinterference with his ways by an English daughter-in-law. The onlyinterest the project has now is that it put the two kings into badhumor with each other. The bad humor was constantly renewed by thequarrels arising out of the King of Prussia's rough, imperious way ofsending recruiting parties into Hanover to cajole or carry off giganticrecruits for his big battalions. So unkingly did the disputation atlast become that George actually sent a challenge to Frederick William, and Frederick William accepted it. A place was arranged where theroyal duellists, each crossing his own frontier for the purpose, wereto meet in combat. The wise and persistent opposition of a Prussianstatesman prevailed upon Frederick to give up the idea, and George toosuffered himself to be talked into something like reason. It is almosta pity for the amusement of posterity that the duel did not come off. It would have almost been a pity, if the fight had come off, that boththe combatants should not have been killed. The King of Prussia andthe King of England were, it may safely be said, the two most coarseand brutal sovereigns of the civilized world at the time. The King ofPrussia was more cruel in his coarseness than the King of England. TheKing of England was more indecent in his coarseness than the King ofPrussia. For all their royal rank, it must be owned that they were_arcades ambo_--that is, according to Byron's translation, "blackguardsboth. "

[Sidenote: 1736--Following the ways of his ancestors]

The fight, however, did not come off, and George had still to find awife for his eldest son. She was found in the person of the PrincessAugusta, sister of the Duke of Saxe-Gotha. The duke gave his consent;the princess offered no opposition, and indeed would not have been {47}much listened to if she had had any opposition to offer. King Georgewished his son to get married to anybody rather than remain longerunmarried; and the prince, who had tried to make a runaway match with ayoung English lady before this time, appeared to be absolutelyindifferent on the subject. So the Princess Augusta was brought overto Greenwich, and thence to London, and on April 28, 1736, the marriagetook place. The princess seems to have been a very amiable, accomplished, and far from unattractive young woman. The Prince ofWales grew to be very fond of her, and to be happy in the home she madehim. He continued, of course, to follow the ways of his father and hisgrandfather, and had his mistresses as well as his wife. The Prince ofWales would probably have thought he was not acting properly the partof royalty if he had been contented with the companionship of onewoman, and that woman his wife. His wife had to put up with the palacemanners of the period. Frederick had at one time been noted for hisdutiful ways to his mother; but more lately the mother and son hadbecome hopelessly estranged. George hated Frederick, and the hatred ofthe mother for the son seemed quite as strong as that of the father. 

A courtly chronicler and genealogist, writing at a period a littlelater, describes George the Second as in the height of glory, a justand merciful prince, but dryly adds, "He resembles his father in histoo great attachment to the electoral dominions. " So indeed he did. The whole policy of his reign was affected or controlled by his lovefor Hanover, or, at least, his love for his own interest in Hanover. He had no patriotic or unselfish attachment to the land of his ancestryand his birth; he was incapable of feeling any such exalted emotion. But the electoral dominions, which were his property, he clung to withardor, and Hanover was the garden of the pleasures he enjoyed mosthighly. He never could understand English ways. He once scolded anEnglish nobleman, the Duke of Grafton, for his delight in the huntingfield. It was a {48} pretty occupation, the King said, for a man ofthe duke's years, and of his rank, to spend so much of his time intormenting a poor fox, that was generally a much better beast than anyof those that pursued him; for the fox hurts no other animal but forhis subsistence, while the brutes who hurt the fox did it only for thepleasure they took in hurting. One might admire such a declaration ifit could be thought to come from a too refined and sensitive humanity. An eccentric, but undoubtedly benevolent, member of the House ofCommons declared, in a speech made in that House some years ago, thathe only once joined in a hunt, and then it was only in the interest ofthe fox. George had no such feeling; he simply could not understandthe tastes or the sports of English country life. 

[Sidenote: 1736--To Hanover at all hazards]

George came back from an expedition to Hanover in a very bad humor. Hehated everything in England; he loved everything in Hanover. It waswith the uttermost reluctance that he dragged himself back from theplace of his amusements and his most cherished amours. He had latelyfound in Hanover a new object of adoration. This was a MadameWalmoden, a fashionable young married woman, with whom George hadfallen headlong into love. He wrote home to his wife, telling her ofhis admiration for Madame Walmoden, and describing with some minutenessthe lady's various charms of person. He induced MadameWalmoden--probably no great persuasion was needed--to leave her husbandand become the mistress of a king. George, it is said, paid down thenot very extravagant sum of a thousand dollars to make things pleasantall round. During his stay in Hanover he and his new companion behavedquite like a high-Dutch Antony and Cleopatra. They had revels andorgies of all kinds in the midst of a crowd of companions as refinedand intellectual as themselves. George had paintings made of some ofthese scenes, with portrait likenesses of those who took a leading partin them, and these paintings he brought home to England, and wasaccustomed {49} to exhibit and explain to the Queen, or to anybody elsewho happened to be in the way. But he did not as yet venture to bringMadame Walmoden to England; and his having to part with her threw himinto a very bad temper. The curious reader will find an amusing, butat the same time very painful, account of the manner in which Georgevented his temper by snubbing his children and insulting his wife. TheQueen bore it all with her wonted patience. George had made a promiseto get back to Hanover very soon to see his beloved Madame Walmoden. Walpole restrained him for a long time, which made the King more andmore angry. Once, when the Queen was urging him to be a little moreconsiderate in his dealings with some of the bishops, the King ofEngland, Defender of the Faith, told her he was sick of all thatfoolish stuff, and added, "I wish with all my heart that the devil maytake all your bishops, and the devil take your minister, and the deviltake the Parliament, and the devil take the whole island, provided Ican get out of it and go to Hanover. " Caroline herself could be sharpenough in her tone with the bishops sometimes, but the manners of theKing seemed to her to go beyond the bounds of reason. 

The King was determined to get back to Hanover by a certain date. Walpole swore to some of his friends that the King should not go. TheKing did go, however, and left the Queen to act as regent of thekingdom during his absence. This time George was to be absent from hiswife on his birthday, and the poor Queen took this bitterly to heart. She consulted Walpole, and Walpole was frank, although on thisparticular occasion he does not seem to have been coarse. He remindedthe Queen that she was ceasing to be young and attractive, and, as itwas necessary that she must keep a hold over the King's regard, hestrongly urged her to write to George and ask him to bring MadameWalmoden over to England with him. Even this the Queen, after somemoments of agonized mental struggle, consented to do. She wrote to the{50} King, and she began to make preparations for the suitablereception of the new sultana. She carried her complacency so far aseven to say that she would be willing to take Madame Walmoden into herown service. Even Walpole thought this was carrying humbleness toofar. "Why not?" poor Caroline asked; was not Lady Suffolk, a formermistress of the King, in the Queen's employment? Walpole pointed out, with the worldly good-sense which belonged to him, that public opinionwould draw a great distinction between the scandal of the King's makingone of the Queen's servants his mistress and the Queen's taking one ofthe King's mistresses into her service. 

[Sidenote: 1736--Handelists and anti-Handelists]

The quarrels between the Prince of Wales and the other members of theroyal family kept on increasing in virulence. The prince surroundedhimself with the Patriots, and indeed openly put himself at their head. The King and Queen would look at no one who was seen in thecompanionship of the prince. The Queen is believed to have at one timecherished some schemes for separating the Electorate of Hanover fromthe English Crown, in order that Hanover might be given to her secondson. With the outer public the Prince of Wales seems to have beenpopular in a certain sense, perhaps for no other reason than because hewas the Prince of Wales and not the King. When he went to one of thetheatres he was loudly cheered, and he took the applause with thegratified complacency of one who knows he is receiving nothing that hehas not well deserved. He would appear to have been continuallyposturing and attitudinizing as the young favorite of the people. Thetruth is that the people in general knew very little about the prince, and knew a good deal about the King, and naturally leaned to the sideof the man who might at least turn out to be better than his father. 

Even the seraphic realms of music were invaded by the dispute betweenthe adherents of the King and the adherents of the prince. The Kingand Queen were supporters {51} of Handel, the prince was against thegreat composer. The prince in the first instance declared againstHandel because his sister Anne, the Princess of Orange, was one ofHandel's worshippers, therefore a great number of the nobility whosided with the prince set up, or at least supported, a rivalopera-house to that in which Handel's music was the great attraction. The King and Queen, Lord Hervey tells, were as much in earnest on thissubject as their son and daughter, though they had the prudence todisguise it, or to endeavor to disguise it, a little more. They wereboth Handelists, "and sat freezing constantly at his empty Haymarketopera, whilst the prince, with all the chief of the nobility, went asconstantly to that of Lincoln's Inn Fields. " "The affair, " Herveyadds, "grew as serious as that of the Greens and the Blues underJustinian at Constantinople; an anti-Handelist was looked upon as ananti-courtier, and voting against the Court in Parliament was hardly aless remissible or more venial sin than speaking against Handel orgoing to the Lincoln's Inn Fields Opera. " Hervey was a man of someculture and some taste; it is curious to observe how little he thoughtof the greatest musician of his time, one of the very greatestmusicians of all time. The London public evidently could not have beengifted with very high musical perception just then. Indeed, later on, when Handel brought out his "Messiah, " it was met with so cold andblank a reception in London that the composer began to despair of theEnglish public ever appreciating his greatest efforts. He made up hismind to try his "Messiah" in Ireland. He went to Dublin, and therefound a splendid reception for his masterpiece, and he remained thereuntil the echo of his great success had made itself heard in England, and he then came back and found his welcome in London. This, however, is anticipating. At present we are only concerned with the fact, asillustrating the existing condition of things in London, that to be anadmirer of Handel was to be an enemy of the Prince of Wales, and not tobe an {52} admirer of Handel was to be an enemy of the King. The feudran so high that the Princess Royal said she expected in a little whileto see half the House of Lords playing in the orchestra in their robesand coronets. She herself quarrelled with the Lord Chamberlain forpreserving his usual neutrality on this occasion, and she spoke of LordDelaware, who was one of the chief managers against Handel, "with asmuch spleen as if he had been at the head of the Dutch faction whoopposed the making her husband Stadtholder. " It seems needless to saythat George himself had no artistic appreciation of Handel. Hesubscribed one thousand a year to enable Handel to fight his battle, but he talked over the matter with unenthusiastic prosaic common-sense. He said he "did not think setting one's self at the head of a factionof fiddlers a very honorable occupation for people of quality, or theruin of one poor fellow so generous or so good-natured a scheme as todo much honor to the undertakers, whether they succeeded in it or not;but, the better they succeeded in it, the more he thought they wouldhave reason to be ashamed of it. " There were some gleams of manhoodshining through George still, and he could appreciate fair playalthough he could not quite appreciate Handel. For the ruin of onepoor fellow! The poor fellow was Handel. The faction of fiddlers thatcould ruin that poor fellow had not been found in the world, even if wewere to include Nero himself among the number. One poor fellow! Wewonder how many sovereigns living in George's time the world could havespared without a pang of regret if by the sacrifice it could secure formen's ennobling delight the immortal music of Handel. 

[Sidenote: 1736--William Pitt]

On April 29, 1736, an event of importance took place in the House ofCommons; the event was a maiden speech, the speech was the opening of agreat career. The orator was a young man, only in his twenty-eighthyear, who had just been elected for the borough of Old Sarum. The newmember was a young officer of {53} dragoons, and his name was WilliamPitt. Pitt attached himself at once to the fortunes of the Patriot, orcountry, party, and was very soon regarded as the most promising ofPulteney's young recruits. His maiden speech was spoken of and writtenof by his friends as a splendid success, as worthy of the greatestorator of any age. Probably the stately presence, the magnificentvoice, and the superb declamation of the young orator may account formuch of the effect which his first effort created, for in the report ofthe speech, such as it has come down to us, there is little to justifyso much enthusiasm; but that the maiden speech was a signal success isbeyond all doubt. A study of the history of the House of Commons will, however, make it clear, that there is little guarantee, little omeneven, for the future success of a speaker in the welcome given to hismaiden speech. Over and over again has some new member delighted andthrilled the House of Commons by his maiden speech, and never delightedit or thrilled it any more. Over and over again has a new memberfailed in his maiden speech, failed utterly and ludicrously, and turnedout afterwards to be one of the greatest debaters in Parliament. Overand over again has a man delivered his maiden speech without creatingthe slightest impression of any kind, good or bad, so that when he sitsdown it is, as Mr. Disraeli put it, hardly certain whether he has losthis Parliamentary virginity or not; and a little later on the same manhas the whole House trembling with anxiety and expectation when herises to take part in a great debate. On the whole, it is probablethat the chances of the future are rather in favor of the man who failsin his maiden speech. At all events, there is as little reason toassume that a man is about to be a success in the House of Commonsbecause he has made a successful maiden speech as there would be toassume that a man is to be a great poet because he has written acollege prize poem. The friends of young William Pitt, however, werewell justified in their expectations; and the magic of {54} presence, voice, and action, which led to an exaggerated estimate of the meritsof the speech, threw the same charm over the whole of Pitt's greatcareer as an orator in the House of Commons. 

[Sidenote: 1736--Pitt--Pulteney]

Pitt came of a good family. His grandfather was the Governor of Madrasto whom Mary Wortley Montagu more than once alludes: the "GovernorPitt" who was more famous in his diamonds than in himself, and whosemost famous brilliant, the Pitt diamond, was bought by the Regent Dukeof Orleans to adorn the crown of France. William Pitt was a youngerson, and was but poorly provided for. A cornet's commission wasobtained for him. The family had the ownership of some parliamentaryboroughs, according to the fashion of those days and of days much laterstill. At the general election of 1734 William Pitt's elder brotherThomas was elected for two constituencies, Okehampton and Old Sarum. When Parliament met, and the double return was made known to it, ThomasPitt decided on taking his seat for Okehampton, and William Pitt waselected to serve in Parliament for Old Sarum. He soon began to beconspicuous among the young men--the "boy brigade, " who cheered andsupported Pulteney. William Pitt was from almost his childhoodtortured with hereditary gout, but he had fine animal spirits for allthat, and he appears to have felt from the first a genuine delight inthe vivid struggles of the House of Commons. He began to outdoPulteney in the vehemence and extravagance of his attacks on the policyand the personal character of the ministers. His principle apparentlywas that whatever Walpole did must _ipso facto_ be wrong, and notmerely wrong, but even base and criminal. Walpole was never veryscrupulous about inflicting an injury on an enemy, especially if theenemy was likely to be formidable. He deprived William Pitt of hiscommission in the army. Thereupon Pitt was made Groom of theBedchamber to the Prince of Wales. When the address was presented tothe King on the occasion of the prince's marriage with the Princess of{55} Saxe-Gotha, it was Pulteney, leader of the Opposition, and notWalpole, the head of the Government, who moved its adoption. It was inthis debate that William Pitt delivered that maiden speech from whichso much was expected, and which was followed by so many great orationsand such a commanding career. As yet, however, William Pitt is onlythe enthusiastic young follower of Pulteney, whom men compare with, orprefer to, other enthusiastic young followers of Pulteney. Even thosewho most loudly cried up his maiden speech could have had littleexpectation of what the maturity of that career was to bring. 

{56}

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PORTEOUS RIOTS. 

[Sidenote: 1736--The gin riots]

A good deal of disturbance and tumult was going on in various parts ofthe provinces. Some of our readers have probably not forgotten theriots which took place in the early part of the present reign, inconsequence of the objection to the turnpike gate system, and in whichthe rioters took the name of "Rebecca and her daughters. " Riots almostprecisely similar in origin and character, but much more extensive andserious, were going on in the western counties during the earlier yearsof George the Second's reign. The rioting began as early as 1730, andkept breaking out here and there for some years. The rioters assembledin various places in gangs of about a hundred. Like "Rebecca and herdaughters, " they were usually dressed in women's clothes; they hadtheir faces blackened; they were armed with guns and swords, andcarried axes, with which to hew down the obnoxious turnpike gates. Thecounty magistrates, with the force at their disposal, were unable atone time to make any head against the rioters. The turnpike gates wereundoubtedly a serious grievance, and at that time there was hardly anyidea of dealing with a grievance but by the simple process ofimprisoning, suppressing, or punishing those who protested too loudlyagainst it. 

The Gin riots were another serious disturbance to social order. Gin-drinking had grown to such a height among the middle classes incities that reformers of all kinds took alarm at it. A Bill wasbrought into Parliament by Sir Joseph Jekyll, the Master of the Rolls, in 1736, for the purpose of prohibiting the sale of gin, or at leastlaying so heavy a duty on it as to put it altogether out of {57} thereach of the poor, and absolutely prohibiting its sale in smallquantities. The Bill was not a ministerial measure, and indeed Walpoleseems to have given it but a cool and half-hearted approval, and thePatriots vehemently opposed it as an unconstitutional interference withindividual habits and individual rights. The Bill, however, passedthrough Parliament and was to come into operation on the 29th of thefollowing September. At first it appears to have created but littlepopular excitement; but as the time drew near when the Act was to comeinto operation, and the poorer classes saw themselves face to face withthe hour that was to cut them off from their favorite drink, a suddendiscontent flashed out in the form of wide-spread riot. Only the mostenergetic action on the part of the authorities prevented thediscontent from breaking into wholesale disturbance. 

It does not seem as if the Gin Act did much for the cause of sobriety. Public opinion among the populace was too decidedly against it to allowof its being made a reality. Gin was every day sold under variousnames, and, indeed, it was publicly sold in many shops under its ownname. The Gin Act called into existence an odious crew of commoninformers who used to entrap people into the selling and drinking ofgin in order to obtain their share of the penalty, or, perhaps, in somecases to satisfy a personal spleen. The mob hated the common informersas bitterly as a well-dressed crowd at a race-course in our own timehates a "welsher. " When the informer was got hold of by his enemies hewas usually treated very much after the fashion in which the welsher ishandled to-day. 

It would be needless to say that the Gin Act and the agitationconcerning it called also into existence a whole literature ofpamphlets, ballads, libels, and lampoons. The agitation ran its courseduring some two years, more than once threatened to involve the countryin serious disturbance, and died out at last when the legislation whichhad caused so much tumult was quietly allowed to become a dead letter. 

{58}

Suddenly Edinburgh became the theatre of a series of dramatic eventswhich made her, for the moment, the centre of interest to the politicalworld. It is, perhaps, a sufficient proof of the delicate condition ofthe relations between the two countries that the arrest of twosmugglers came within measurable distance of awaking civil war. Thesetwo smugglers, Wilson and Robertson, being under sentence of death, made, while in church under armed escort, a desperate effort to escape. Wilson, a man of great strength, by holding two soldiers with his hand, and a third with his teeth, gave Robertson the chance, which he gladlyseized, of plunging into the crowd of the dispersing congregation, andvanishing into space. 

[Sidenote: 1736--John Porteous]

The Edinburgh magistrates, alarmed at the escape, offended by thedisplay of popular sympathy with the escaped smuggler, and fearing, not, as it was said, without good cause, that an attempt would be madeto rescue the single-minded and not unheroic Wilson, resolved to takeall possible precautions to insure the carrying out of the sentence ofthe law. To do this the more effectively they ordered out nearly thewhole of their own city guard under the command of Captain Porteous, and in doing so made one of the greatest mistakes recorded in theirannals. 

Captain John Porteous was in his way and within his sphere a remarkableman. He belonged to that large crew of daring, resolute, andunscrupulous adventurers who, under happy conditions, become famousfree companions, are great in guerilla wars, make excellent explorers, and even found colonies and lay the foundations of States, but who, under less auspicious stars, are only a terror to the peaceable and anexample to the law-abiding. To the romancist, to the dramatist, thecharacter of such a man as John Porteous is intensely attractive; evenin the graver ways of history he claims the attention imperatively, andstands forward with a decisive distinctness that lends to him animportance beyond his deserts. {59} His life had been from thebeginning daring, desperate, and reckless. He was the son of a veryrespectable Edinburgh citizen, who was also a very respectable tailor, and whose harmless ambition it was to make the wild slip of his blood arespectable tailor in his turn. Never was the saying "Like father, like son" more astonishingly belied. Young John Porteous would havenothing to do with the tailor's trade. He was dissipated, he wasdevil-may-care; there was nothing better to be done with him than toship him abroad into the military service of some foreign State, thefacile resource in those days for getting rid of the turbulent and thetroublesome. John Porteous went into foreign service; he entered thecorps known as the Scotch-Dutch, in the pay of the States of Holland, and plied the trade of arms. 

Time went on, and in its course it brought John Porteous back toEdinburgh. Here his military training served the city in good steadduring the Jacobite rising of 1715. He disciplined the city guard andgot his commission as its captain. But, if wanderings and foreignservice had turned the tailor's son into a stout soldier, they had inno degree mended his morality or bettered his reputation. Edinburghcitizenship has always been commended for keeping a strict eye to therespectabilities, and the standard of public and private decorum washeld puritanically high in the middle of the last century; but even inthe most loose-lived of European cities, even in the frankest freedomof barracks or of camp, John Porteous, if his reputation did not beliehim, might have been expected to hold his own among the profligate andthe brutal. It seems to be uncertain whether he was the moreremarkable for his savage temper or for the dissolute disorder of hislife. Naturally enough, perhaps in obedience to that law of contrastwhich seems so often to preside over the destinies of such men, hisappearance did not jump with his nature. We read that he was ofsomewhat portly habit, by no means tall; that his face was ratherbenign than otherwise, and that his eyes suggested a sleepy {60}mildness. Such as he was, he had lived a queer, wild life, but itsqueerest and its wildest scenes were now to come in swift successionbefore the end. 

[Sidenote: 1736--Scene at an execution]

The city guard, of which Porteous was the commander, were scarcely morepopular than their chief. Ferguson, the luckless tavern-haunting poet, the François Villon of Edinburgh, the singer whose genius some criticsbelieve to be somewhat unfairly overshadowed by the greater fame ofBurns, has branded them to succeeding generations as "black banditti. "They were some 120 in number; they were composed of veteran soldiers, chiefly Highlanders; they were considered by such of the Edinburghpopulation as often came into conflict with them to be especiallyferocious in their fashion of preserving civic order. Captain JohnPorteous seems to have found them men after his own heart, to have beenvery proud of them, and to have considered that they and he togetherwere equal to coping with any emergency that a disturbed Edinburghmight present. He was therefore deeply affronted when the magistrates, after according to him and his men the duty of guarding the scaffold onwhich Wilson was to die, considered it necessary for the furtherpreservation of peace and the overawing of any possible attempt atrescue to order a regiment of Welsh fusileers to be drawn up in theprincipal street of the city. Wrath at the escape of Robertson, andindignation at the slight which he conceived to be put upon him and hismen, acting upon his old hatred for his enemies, the Edinburgh mob, seems to have whipped the fierce temper of Porteous into whollyungovernable fury. The execution took place under peculiarly painfulconditions. Porteous insisted on inflicting needless torture upon theunhappy Wilson by forcing upon his wrists a pair of handcuffs that weremuch too small for the purpose. When Wilson remonstrated, and urgedthat the pain distracted his thoughts from those spiritual reflectionswhich were now so peremptory, Porteous is said to have replied withwanton ruffianism that such reflections would matter very {61} little, since Wilson would so soon be dead. The prisoner is reported to haveanswered with a kind of prophetic dignity that his tormentor did notknow how soon he might in his turn have to ask for himself the mercywhich he now refused to a fellow-being. With these words, almost thelatest on his lips, the smuggler went to his death and met it with adecent courage. 

While the execution took place no signs were shown on the part of thegreat crowd that had assembled of any desire to rescue the prisoner. But the sentence had hardly been carried out when the temper of the mobappeared to change. Stones were thrown, angry cries were raised, andthe mob, as if animated by a common purpose, began to press around thescaffold. One man leaped upon the gibbet and cut the rope by which thebody was suspended; others gathered round as if to carry off the body. Then it is asserted that Porteous completely lost his head. Thepassion that had been swaying him all day entirely overmastered him. He is said to have snatched a musket from the hands of the soldiernearest to him, to have yelled to his men to fire, and to have shownthe example by pointing his own piece and shooting one of the crowddead. 

Whether Porteous gave the order or not, it is certain that the attackupon the gibbet was followed by a loose fire from the guard whichkilled some six or seven persons and wounded many others. ThenPorteous made an attempt to withdraw his men, and as they were movingup the High Street the now infuriated mob again attacked, and again theguards fired upon the people, and again men were killed and wounded. Thus, as it were, fighting his way, Porteous got his men to theirguard-house. 

The popular indignation was so great that the Edinburgh authorities putPorteous upon his trial. Porteous defended himself vigorously, deniedthat he had ever given an order to fire, denied that he had ever firedhis piece, proved that he had exhibited his piece to the magistratesimmediately after the occurrence unused and still loaded. This defencewas met by the counter-assertion {62} that the weapon Porteous had usedwas not his own, but one seized from the hands of a soldier. A largenumber of persons gave evidence that they heard Porteous give the orderto fire, that they saw him level and discharge the piece he had seized, and that they had seen his victim fall. After a lengthy trial Porteouswas found guilty and sentenced to death. 

[Sidenote: 1736--Attacking the Tolbooth]

The sentence was received with practically general approval inEdinburgh, but with very different feelings in London. The Queen, whowas acting as regent in the absence of George II. , felt especiallystrongly upon the subject. Lamentable as the violence of CaptainPorteous had been, it was still urged that he had acted in obedience toa sense of duty. It was feared, too, that the sufficiently lawlessattitude of the lower population of Edinburgh towards authority wouldbe gravely and dangerously intensified if so signal an example were tobe made of an officer whose offence was only committed under conditionsof grave provocation and in the face of an outbreak which might wellappear to resemble riot. The Government in London came to theconclusion that it would not do to hang John Porteous, and a messagewas sent by the Duke of Newcastle notifying her Majesty's pleasure thatPorteous should have a reprieve for a period of six weeks--apreliminary step to the consequent commutation of the death sentence. 

But, if the Government in London proposed to reprieve Porteous, thewild democracy of Edinburgh were not willing to lose their vengeance solightly. The deaths caused by the discharge of the pieces ofPorteous's men had aroused the most passionate resentment in Edinburgh. Men of all classes, those directly affected by the deaths of friendsand relatives, and those who looked upon the quarrel from an attitudeof unconcerned justice, alike agreed in regarding Porteous's sentenceas righteous and deserved; now, alike, they agreed in resenting theinterference of the Queen, and the apparently inevitable escape ofPorteous from the consequences of his crime. 

{63}

What followed fills one of the most dramatic of all the many dramaticpages in the history of Edinburgh town. John Porteous was imprisonedin the Tolbooth, in the very thick of the city. Some of his friends, stirred by fears which if vague were not imaginary, urged him topetition to the authorities to be removed to the Castle, perched safealoft upon its rock. But Porteous, filled with a false security, andrejoicing in the reprieve that had arrived from London, took no heed ofthe warnings. Perhaps, like the Duke of Guise on something of a likeoccasion, he would, if warned that there was any thought of taking hislife, have answered, secure in the sanctity of the old Tolbooth, in thehistoric words, "They would not dare. " Porteous remained in the oldTolbooth; he gave an entertainment in honor of his reprieve to certainprivileged friends; he was actually at supper, with the wine goinground and round, and his apartment noisy with talk and laughter, whenthe jailer entered the room with a pale face and a terrible tale. HalfEdinburgh was outside the Tolbooth, armed and furious, their one demandfor the person of Porteous, their one cry for his life. 

The tale was strange enough to seem incredible even to minds more soberthan those of Porteous and his companions, but it was perfectly true. Edinburgh had risen in the most mysterious way. From all parts of thetown bands of men had come together; the guard-house of the city guardhad been seized upon, the guards disarmed, and their weaponsdistributed among the conspirators. In a very short space of timeEdinburgh was in the hands of an armed and determined mob; themagistrates, who attempted to enforce their authority, were powerless, and the crowd, with a unanimity which showed how well their plans hadbeen preconcerted, directed all their energies to effecting an entranceinto the Tolbooth. This proved at first exceedingly difficult. Thegreat gate seemed to defy the force of all the sledge-hammer strokesthat could be rained against it, and its warders were obstinate aliketo the demands and the threats of the besiegers. But some {64} one inthe ranks of the besiegers suggested fire, and through fire theTolbooth fell. Fagots were piled outside the great gate and lighted, and the bonfire was assiduously fed until at last the great gate wasconsumed and the rioters rushed to their purpose over the glowingembers and through the flying sparks. 

[Sidenote: 1736--A "respectable" mob]

They found Porteous in his apartment, deserted by his companions, dizzywith the fumes of wines, and helpless with the horror of the doom thatmenaced him. He might perhaps have escaped when the first alarm wassounded, but, as he lost his head before through passion, so he seemsto have lost it again now through dismay. The poor wretch had indeedat the last moment, when it was too late, sought refuge in the chimneyof his room; his flight was stopped by a grating a little way up; tothis grating he clung, and from this grating he was plucked away by hisassailants. In a few moments he was carried into the open air, wasborne, the bewildered, despairing, struggling centre of all that armedand merciless mass, swiftly towards the Netherbow. In the midst of theblazing torches, the Lochaber axes, the guns and naked swords, thathemmed him in, the helpless, hopeless victim was swept along. A ropewas readily found, but a gibbet was not forthcoming; a byer's poleserved at the need. Within a little while after the forcing of theTolbooth gate, Porteous was hanged and dead, and his wild judges werestriking at his lifeless body with their weapons. It is said, and wemay well believe it, that Porteous died, when he found that he had todie, bravely enough, as became a soldier. In that wild, mad life ofhis he had faced many perils, and if he pleaded for his life with hisself-ordained executioners while there was any chance that pleadingmight prevail, it is likely enough that he accepted the inevitable withcomposure. Wilson was avenged; the victims of the fusillade of thecity guard had been atoned for by blood, and Edinburgh had assertedwith a ferocity all her own that England's will was not her will, andEngland's law not her law. 

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The peculiar characteristics of the crowd that battered down theTolbooth gate and carried off Porteous to his death in the Grassmarketwere its orderliness, its singleness of purpose, and the curious"respectability, " if such a term may be employed, of its composition. Its singleness of purpose and its orderliness were alike exemplified bythe way in which it went about its grim business and by the absoluteabsence of all riot or pillage of any kind, or indeed of any sort ofviolence beyond that essential to the carrying out of its intent. Nopeaceable persons were molested; no buildings other than the Tolboothwere broken into; the very rope which hanged the unhappy Porteous wasimmediately and amply paid for. No one except the central victim ofthe conspiracy received harm at the hands of the mob. The"respectability" of a large proportion of the mob and of thosecontrolling its actions was afterwards vouched for in many ways. Ladies told tales of their carriages being stopped by disguisedindividuals of courteous bearing and marked politeness, who with themost amiable apologies turned their horses' heads from the scene ofaction. It was afterwards reported and commonly believed that theEdinburgh authorities knew more about the purpose of the self-appointedexecutions than was consonant with a due regard for law and order. Infact, if the passions of the mob were aroused they were undoubtedlyorganized, directed, and held in check by those who knew well how tocommand, and to give to an illegal act the gravity and decorum oflegality. 

News travelled slowly in those days. There were no telegrams, nospecial editions, no newspapers, to tell the Londoner in the morning ofthe grim deed that had been done in Edinburgh overnight. But when thenews did come it certainly startled London, and it raised up a perfectpassion of rage, a _hysterica passio_, in the heart and brain of oneperson. That person was the Queen, who had herself specially orderedthe reprieve of the condemned man. Queen Caroline's reason seemed forthe {66} moment to be wellnigh unhinged by her anger at the news. Sheuttered the wildest threats, and talked vehemently of inflicting allmanner of impossible punishment upon Edinburgh for the offences of itsmob. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Scottish dignity]

Fortunately for the maintenance of peace between the two countries, thequestion of the justice or the injustice of Porteous's fate was not tobe settled by the caprice of an irritated woman. In obedience, however, to the Queen's wishes, the Government introduced into theHouse of Lords, in April, 1737, a Bill the terms of which proposed todisable the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Alexander Wilson, "from taking, holding, or enjoying any office or place of magistracy in the city ofEdinburgh, or elsewhere in Great Britain, and for imprisoning the saidAlexander Wilson, and for abolishing the town guard kept up in the saidcity, commonly called the Town Guard, and for taking away the gates ofthe Netherbow port of the said city, and keeping open the same. " TheBill was the occasion of long and bitter debates, in which LordCarteret made himself the most conspicuous advocate of the Governmentmeasure, and the Duke of Argyll acted as the chief champion of theScotch peers, who resolutely opposed it. The debate was curious andinstructive, in serving to show the extreme delicacy of the relationsbetween England and Scotland, and the difficulties presented by thedifferences between the Scotch law and the English law. Porteous wastried and condemned naturally by Scotch law, and many, if not most, ofthe English advocates of the Bill seemed to find it hard to put it outof their heads that because the trial was not conducted in accordancewith the principles of English legislation it could possibly be a fairor a just trial. 

If the Bill was calculated to irritate the susceptibilities of theScotch peers, there were attendant circumstances still more irritating. The three Scotch judges were summoned from Scotland to answer certainlegal questions connected with the debate. On their arrival a freshdebate sprang up on the question whether they should be {67} examinedat the Bar of the House of Lords or upon the wool-sacks. The Scotchpeers considered it disrespectful to their judges to be examined at theBar of the House of Lords, and urged some of their arguments against itin terms of ominous warning. It is curious to find a speaker in thisdebate telling the Government that the strength of the legal union thatexisted between England and Scotland depended entirely upon the way inwhich the people of Scotland were treated by the majority in the twoHouses. If any encroachment be made, the speaker urged, on thosearticles which have been stipulated between the two countries, thelegal union will be of little force: the Scotch people will be apt toascribe to the present royal family all the ills they feel or imaginethey feel; and if they should unanimously join in a contrary interestthey would be supported by a powerful party in England as well as by apowerful party beyond the seas. For such reasons the speaker urgedthat any insult, or seeming insult, to the people of Scotland wasespecially to be avoided, and any disrespect to the Scotch judges wouldbe looked upon by the whole nation as a violation of the Articles ofUnion and an indignity to the Scottish people. 

The use of such words in the House of Lords within two-and-twenty yearsof the rising of 1715 ought to have been found most significant. Noone who was present and who heard those words could guess indeed thatwithin eight more years Scotland and England would witness a rising yetmore formidable than that of the Old Pretender, a rising which wouldput for a moment in serious peril the Hanoverian hold of the throne. But they might well have been accepted as of the gravest import bythose who voted for the attendance of the Scotch judges at the Bar ofthe House of Lords, and who carried their point by a majority of twelve. 

The question of the judges being settled, the debate on the Bill wenton, and the measure was read a third time, on Wednesday, May 11th, andpassed by a majority of fifty-four to twenty-two. On the followingMonday, May 16th, {68} the Bill was sent down to the House of Commons, where it occasioned debates even warmer than the debates in the UpperHouse. The Scotch opposition was more successful in the Commons thanit had been in the Lords. So strenuously was the measure opposed thatat one time it seemed likely to be lost altogether, and was only savedfrom extinction by a casting vote. When at last it was read a thirdtime, on June 13th, it was a very different measure, in name and inform, from the Bill which had come down from the Peers a month earlier. The proposal to abolish the Edinburgh city guard and to destroy thegate of the Netherbow port disappeared from the Bill, and the proposedpunitive measures finally resolved themselves into the infliction of afine of two thousand pounds upon the city of Edinburgh, and thedeclaration that the provost, Alexander Wilson, was incapable ofholding office. Such was the pacific conclusion of a controversy thatat one time seemed likely to put a dangerous strain upon the amicablerelations between the two countries. It may indeed be shrewdlysuspected that the memory of the Porteous mob, and of the part whichthe Hanoverian Queen and the Whig Government played in connection withit, may have had no small share in fanning the embers of Jacobiteenthusiasm in Scotland in swelling the ranks of the sympathizers withKing James and Prince Charles over the water, and in precipitating theinsurrectionary storm which was to make memorable the name of theForty-five. Perhaps to the world at large the most momentous result ofthat wild and stormy episode is to be found in the enchanting fictionwhich has illuminated, with the genius of Walter Scott, the stirringscenes of the Porteous riots, and has lent an air of heroic dignity andbeauty to the obscure smuggler, George Robertson. It is the happyprivilege of the true romancer to find history his handmaid, and tomake obscure events immortal, whether they be the scuffles of Greeksand barbarians outside a small town in Asia Minor, or the lynching of adissolute adventurer by an Edinburgh mob at the Grassmarket. 

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CHAPTER XXV. 

FAMILY JARS. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Unpopularity of George the Second]

"How is the wind now for the King?" "Like the nation--against him. "Such was the question put, and such the answer promptly given, by twopersons meeting in a London street during certain stormy days ofDecember, 1736. The King had been on a visit to his loved Hanover. When the royal yachts were returning, some fierce tempests sprang upand raged along both coasts; and the King's vessel was forced to returnto Helvoetsluis, in Holland, from which she had sailed. She had partedcompany with some of the other vessels. The storms continued to rage, and the King, who had been most reluctant to leave Hanover, was wildwith impatience to get away from Helvoetsluis. Having had to takeleave of Madame Walmoden, he was now anxious to get back to the Queen. He sailed for Helvoetsluis while the tempest was still not whollyallayed, and another tempest seemed likely to spring up. Newstravelled slowly in those times, and there were successive intervals ofseveral days, during which the English Court and the English public didnot know whether George was safe in a port, or was drifting on a wreck, or was lying at the bottom of the sea. 

That was a trying time for the Queen and those who stood by her. George the Second was just then very unpopular in London, and indeedall over England. "The King's danger, " Lord Hervey says, "did not inthe least soften the minds of the people towards him; a thousandimpertinent and treasonable reflections were thrown out against himevery day publicly in the streets--such as wishing him at the bottom ofthe sea; that he had been {70} drowned instead of some of the poorsailors that had been washed off the decks--and many other affectionate_douceurs_ in the same style. " A man went into an ale-house whereseveral soldiers were drinking; he addressed them "as brave Englishboys, " and called on them to drink "damnation to your master. " The manwent on to argue that there was no reason why the English people shouldnot hate the King, and that the King had gone to Hanover only to spendthe money of England there, and to bring back his Hanoverian mistress. There is not much in this of any particular importance; but there issignificance in what followed. The man was arrested, and the sergeantwho was with the soldiers when the invitation to drink was given wentto Sir Robert Walpole to tell him what had happened. Sir Robertthanked the sergeant and rewarded him, but enjoined him to leave out ofthe affidavit he would have to make any allusion to the English moneyand the Hanoverian mistress. There was quite enough in the mereinvitation to drink the disloyal toast, Sir Robert said, to secure theoffender's punishment; but the Prime-minister was decidedly of opinionthat the less said just then in public about the spending of Englishmoney and the endowment of Hanoverian women, the better for peace andquietness. 

[Sidenote: 1737--The Prince of Wales]

The Queen and Sir Robert and Lord Hervey were in constant consultation. They would not show in public the fear which all alike entertained. The Queen went to chapel, and passed her evenings with her circle justas usual; but she was in the uttermost alarm and the deepest distress. Any hour might bring the news that the King was drowned; and who couldtell what might not happen in England then? Of course in the naturalorder of things the Prince of Wales would succeed to the throne; andwhat would become of the Queen and Walpole and Hervey then? Hervey, indeed, tried to reassure the Queen, and to persuade her that her sonwould acknowledge her influence and be led by it; but Caroline couldnot be prevailed upon to indulge in such a hope even for {71} a moment. To add to her troubles, her daughter, the Princess of Orange, was lyingin a most dangerous condition at the Hague--her confinement had takenplace; she had suffered terribly; and, to save her life, it had beenfound necessary to sacrifice the unborn child, a daughter. Every hourthat passed without bringing news of the King seemed to increase thechance of the news when it came proving the worst. Such was the momentwhen the Prince of Wales made himself conspicuous by several bids forpopularity. He gave a dinner to the Lord Mayor and aldermen of theCity of London on the occasion of their presenting him with the freedomof the city. The Queen, who, for all her philosophical scepticism andher emancipated mind, had many lingering superstitions in her, saw anevil omen in the fact that the only two Princes of Wales who beforeFrederick had been presented with the freedom of the city were Charlesthe First and James the Second. The prince was reported to the Queento have made several speeches at the dinner which were certain toingratiate him in popular favor. "My God!" she exclaimed, "popularityalways makes me sick; but Fritz's popularity makes me vomit. " Peopletold her that the prince and those around him talked of the King'sbeing cast away "with the same _sang-froid_ as you would talk of acoach being overturned. " She said she had been told that Frederickstrutted about as if he were already King. But she added, "He is suchan ass that one cannot tell what he thinks; and yet he is not so greata fool as you take him for, neither. " The Princess Caroline vowed thatif the worst were to prove true, she would run out of the house _augrand galop_. Walpole described the prince to Hervey as "a poor, weak, irresolute, false, lying, dishonest, contemptible wretch, " and asked, "What is to become of this divided family and this divided country?"It is something of a relief to find that there was in one mind at leasta thought of what might happen to the country. 

We have to take all these pictures of Frederick on {72} trust--on thefaith of the father who loathed him, of the mother who detested anddespised him, of the brothers and sisters who shrank away from him, ofthe minister who could not find words enough to express his hatred andcontempt for him. Of course the mere fact that father and mother, brothers and sisters, felt thus towards the prince is terribletestimony against him. But there does not seem much in his conduct, atleast in his public conduct, during this crisis, which might not bear afavorable interpretation. He might have given his dinners, as theQueen held her public drawing-rooms, for the purpose of preventing thespread of an alarm. No doubt the entertainment to the Lord Mayor andaldermen had been long arranged; and the prince may have thought itwould be unwise to put it off at such a moment. Every report wasbelieved against him. A fire broke out at the Temple, and the princewent down and stayed all night, giving directions and taking thecontrol of the work for the putting out of the flames. His exertionsundoubtedly helped to save the Temple from destruction; and he becamefor the time a hero with the populace. It was reported to Carolinethat either the prince himself or some of his friends were going aboutsaying that the crowd on the night of the fire kept crying out, "Crownhim! crown him!"

[Sidenote: 1737--Monarchy a prosaic institution]

So far as the alarm of the Queen and Walpole had to do with the stateof the country, it does not seem that there was any solid ground. Whatwould have happened if the bloated King had been tossed ashore a corpseon the coast of England or the coast of Holland? So far as the publicaffairs of England are concerned, nothing in particular would havehappened, we think. George would have been buried in right royalfashion; there would have been an immense concourse of sight-seers tostare at the royal obsequies; and Frederick would have been proclaimed, and the people would have taken little notice of the fact. What couldit have mattered to the English people whether George the Second or hiseldest son was {73} on the throne? No doubt Frederick was generallydistrusted and disliked wherever he was known; but, then, George theSecond was ever so much more widely known, and therefore was ever somuch more distrusted and disliked. The chances of a successfulJacobite rising would not have been affected in any way by the factthat it was this Hanoverian prince and not that who was sitting on thethrone of England. It would be hardly possible to find a more utterlyunkingly and ignoble sovereign than George the Second; it is hardlypossible that his son could have turned out any worse; and there was, at all events, the possibility that he might turn out better. OutsideLondon and Richmond very few people cared in the least which of theHanoverians wore the crown. Those who were loyal to the reigningfamily were honestly loyal on the principle that it was better for thecountry to have a Hanoverian sovereign than a Stuart. Many of thosewho in their feelings were still devoted to the Stuart tradition didnot think it would be worth while plunging the country into a civil warfor the almost hopeless chance of a revolution. England was beginningto see that, with all the corruption of Parliament and theconstituencies under Walpole's administration, there was yet a verymuch better presentation of constitutional government than they hadever seen before. The arbitrary power of the sovereign had practicallyceased to affect anybody outside the circles of the Ministry and theCourt. The law tribunals sat and judged men impartially according totheir lights, and person and property were at least secure against thearbitrary intrusion of the sovereign power. The old-fashionedchivalric, picturesque loyalty was gone; not merely because royaltyitself had ceased to be chivalric and picturesque, but because men had, after so many experiments and changes, come to regard the monarchy as amerely practical and prosaic institution, to be rated according to itsworking merits. The majority in England at the time when George wastossing about the North Sea, or waiting impatiently at Helvoetsluis, had come to the conclusion {74} that on the whole the monarchy workedbetter under the Hanoverians than it had done under the Stuarts, andwas more satisfactory than the protectorate of Cromwell. Therefore, wedo not believe there was the slightest probability that the loss ofGeorge the Second would have brought any political trouble on theState. One can imagine objections made even by very moderate andreasonable Englishmen to each and all of the Hanoverian kings; but wefind it hard to imagine how any reasonable Englishman, who had quietlyput up with George the Second, should be at any pains to resist theaccession of George the Second's eldest son. 

But the truth is that although in her many consultations with Walpoleand with Hervey the Queen did sometimes let drop a word or two aboutthe condition of the country and the danger to the State, she was notthinking much about the state of the country. She was thinkinghonestly about herself and those who were around her, and whom sheloved and wished to see maintained in comfort and in dignity. Herconviction was that if her son Frederick came to the throne she and herother children would be forced to go into an obscure life in SomersetHouse, the old palace which had been assigned to her in her jointure, and that they would even in that obscurity have to depend very much onthe charity of the new King. This was the view Walpole took of theprospect. He thought those most in peril, those most to be pitied, were the Queen and the duke, her son, and the princesses. "I do notknow, " said Walpole to Hervey, "any people in the world so much to bepitied as that gay young company with which you and I stand every dayin the drawing-room, at that door from which we this moment came, bredup in state, in affluence, caressed and courted, and to go at once fromthat into dependence on a brother who loves them not, and whoseextravagance and covetousness will make him grudge every guinea theyspend, as it must come from out of a purse not sufficient to defray theexpenses of his own vices. "

{75}

Walpole, to do him justice, did think of the country. For all hisrough, coarse, selfish ways, Walpole was an English patriot. Hethought of the country, but he saw no danger to national interests inthe change from George to Frederick. He saw, indeed, a great prospectof miserable mismanagement, blundering, and confusion in theGovernment. He foresaw the reliance of the coming King on the mostworthless favorites. He foresaw more corruption and of a worse kind, and more maladministration, than there had been before at any timesince the accession of George the First. He feared that it might notbe possible for him to remain at the head of affairs when Frederickshould have come to reign. But he does not appear to have had anydread of any immediate cataclysm or even disturbance. The troublesWalpole looked for were troubles which might indeed make governmentdifficult, disturb the House of Commons, and bring discomfort of thebitterest kind into Court circles, but which would be hardly heard ofin the great provincial towns, and not heard of at all in thecountry--at least not heard of outside the park railings of the greatcountry-houses. 

[Sidenote: 1737--A Royal love-letter]

Whatever the alarm, it was destined suddenly to pass away. WhileCaroline was already secretly putting her heart into mourning for herhusband the news was suddenly brought that George was safe and sound inHelvoetsluis. He had been compelled to return, and there he had toremain weather-bound. He wrote to the Queen a long, tender, andimpassioned love-letter--like the letter of a youthful lover in whoseheart the first feeling on an unexpected escape from death is the gladthought that he is to look once again on the fair face of hissweetheart. George really had a gift for love-letter writing, the onlyliterary gift which he seems to have possessed. It is impossible toread the letters from Helvoetsluis without believing that they werewritten under the inspiration of genuine emotion. Their style mightwell raise over again that interesting subject of speculation--whetherit is in the power of man to be in love with two or more women {76} thesame time. King George was unquestionably in love with MadameWalmoden: while he was near her he could think of nothing else. He wasin Hanover, feasting and dancing, always in Madame Walmoden's company, while his daughter was lying on what seemed at one time like to be herdeath-bed at the Hague. It is not a very far cry from Hanover to theHague, but it never occurred to George to entertain the idea of leavingMadame Walmoden to go and pay a visit to his daughter. Out of MadameWalmoden's presence his thoughts appear to have flown at once back tohis wife. To her he wrote, not in the mere language of conjugalaffection and sympathy, but with the passionate raptures of young loveitself. The Queen was immensely proud of this letter, although shetook care to say that she believed she was not unreasonably proud ofit. She showed it to Walpole and to Hervey, who both agreed that theyhad a most incomprehensible master. Walpole was a very shrewd andkeen-sighted man, but he did not understand Queen Caroline or herfeeling towards her husband. He had told Hervey more than once that hedid not know whether the Queen hated more her son or her husband; and, indeed, he said there was good reason why she should hate the husbandthe more of the two, seeing that he had treated her so badly while shehad been all devotion to him. The love of a woman is not alwaysgoverned by a sense of gratefulness. There are women whose hearts arelike the grape, and give out their best juices to him who tramples onthem. If anything is certain in all the coarse and dreary story ofthat Court, it is that Queen Caroline adored her husband--that she wastoo fond of her most filthy bargain. 

[Sidenote: 1737--A fickle, inconsiderate Prince]

The danger in which George had been, and out of which he had escaped, did not in any way soften the hearts of King and prince, of father andson, towards each other. The prince still occupied a suite of rooms inSt. James's Palace, and the King and he met on public occasions, butthey never spoke. The Queen was even more constant in her hatred tothe prince than the King himself. It does {77} not seem possible tofind out how this detestation of the son by the mother ever began tofill the Queen's heart. She was not an unloving mother; indeed, whereher affection to the King did not stand in the way, she was fond andtender to nearly all her children. But towards her eldest son sheseems to have felt something like a physical aversion. Then, again, the King was a dull, stupid, loutish man, over whose clouded facultiesany absurd prejudice or dislike might have settled unquestioned; butCaroline was a bright, clever, keen-witted woman, who asked herself andothers why this or that should be. She must have many times questionedher own heart and reasoned with herself before she allowed it to befilled forever with hatred to her son. Lord Hervey, who had a trueregard for her, and in whom she trusted as much as she trusted anyhuman being, does not appear to have ever fully understood the cause ofthe Queen's feelings towards the prince; nor does he appear to haveshared her utter distrust and dislike of him. As far as one can judge, the prince appears to have been fickle, inconsiderate, and flightyrather than deliberately bad. He sometimes did things which made himseem like a madman. Such a person would not be charmed into ahealthier condition of mind and temper by the knowledge daily thrustupon him that his own father and mother, and his own sister, were thethree persons who hated him most in the world. Of course, in this asin other cases of a palace quarrel between a king and an eldest son, there was a bitter wrangle about money. The prince demanded anallowance of one hundred thousand a year to be secured to himindependently of his father's power to recall or reduce it. The Kinghad hitherto only given him what Frederick called a beggarly allowanceof fifty thousand a year, and even that had not been made over to theprince unconditionally and forever. The prince argued that hisfather's civil list was now much larger than that of George the Firstat the time when the Prince of Wales of that day, George the Secondnow, was allowed an income of one {78} hundred thousand a year. ThePrincess of Wales had as yet received no jointure, and she and theprince were thus kept, as Frederick's friends insisted, in thecondition of mere pensioners and dependants upon the royal bounty. Theprince's friends were, for the most part, eager to stir him up to someopen measure of hostility; especially the younger men of the party weredoing their best to drive the prince on. Pulteney, it must be said, was not for any such course of action, indeed, was against it, and hadgiven the prince good advice; and Carteret was not for it. But LordChesterfield and several other peers, and Lyttelton and William Pitt inthe House of Commons, were eager for the fray, and their counselsprevailed. To use an expression which became famous at a much laterday, "the young man's head was on fire, " and it soon became known tothe King and Queen that the prince had resolved to act upon asuggestion made by Bolingbroke two years before, and submit his claimto the decision of Parliament. More than that, when Walpole wasconsulted Walpole felt himself obliged to declare his belief, or atleast his fear, that if the prince should persist in making his claimhe would find himself supported by a majority in the House of Commons. The story had reached the Queen in the first instance through LordHervey, and the manner of its reaching Lord Hervey is worth mentioning, because it brings in for the first time a name destined to be famousduring two succeeding generations. The prince, having been persuadedto appeal to Parliament, at once began touting for support and forvotes after the fashion of a candidate for a Parliamentaryconstituency. He sent the Duke of Marlborough to speak to Mr. HenryFox, a young member of Parliament, and to ask Mr. Fox for his vote. Henry Fox was the younger of two brothers, both of whom were intimatefriends of Lord Hervey. He had not been long in the House of Commons, having obtained a seat in 1735, as member for Hendon, in Wiltshire. Hehad come into Parliament in the same year with William Pitt, whoseforemost political rival he was soon destined {79} to be. He was alsodestined to be the father of the greatest rival of his opponent's son. English public life was to see a Pitt and a Fox opposed to each otherat the head of rival parties in one generation, and a far greater Foxand a not inferior Pitt standing in just the same attitude of rivalryin the generation that succeeded. 

[Sidenote: 1737--A Royal liar]

Henry Fox went at once to Lord Hervey and told him how he had beenasked to support the prince, and how he had answered that he should doas his brother did, whatever that might be. Lord Hervey at first wasnot inclined to attach much importance to the story. He said he hadheard so often that the prince was going to take up such a course ofaction and nothing had come of it so far, and he did not supposeanything would come of it this time. Fox, however, assured him thatthe attempt would now most certainly be made, and was surprised to findthat the ministers appeared to know nothing about it. He declared thathe did not believe there was a man on the side of the Opposition whohad not already been asked for his vote. Lord Hervey hurried to theQueen and told her the unpleasant news. Caroline sent for Walpole; andat last the story was told to the King himself. The Queen was urged byLord Hervey to speak to her son privately, and endeavor to induce himnot to declare open war upon his father. The Queen would not doanything of the kind. She declared that her speaking to her son wouldonly make him more obstinate than ever, and that he was such a liarthat it would not be safe for her to enter into any private conferencewith him. Other intercessors were found, but the prince wasunyielding; and George himself, as obstinate as his son, could not beinduced at first by Walpole, or by any one else, to make any show ofconcession or compromise. The Princess Caroline kept saying ever somany times a day that she prayed her brother might drop down dead; thathe was a nauseous beast, and she grudged him every hour he continued toexist. These sisterly expressions did not contribute much to anymanner of settlement, and the prince held on his course. {80} Thecalculations of Frederick's friends gave him in advance a majority offorty in the House of Commons; and even the most experiencedcalculators of votes on the King's side allowed to the prince amajority of ten. Walpole began to think the crisis one of profounddanger. He felt it only too likely that the fate of his administrationwould depend on the division in the House of Commons. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Frederick's "dutiful expressions"]

Something must be done; something at least must be attempted. Walpolesaw nothing for it but to endeavor to arrange a compromise. Parliamenthad opened on February 1st, and the day appointed for the debate onthis important question of the prince's allowance was to be Tuesday, the 22d of the month. On the Monday previous, Walpole made up his mindthat if the King did not offer some fair show of compromise his partywould be beaten when the question came to be put to the vote. His planof arrangement was that the King should spontaneously send to theprince an intimation that he was willing to settle a jointure at onceon the princess, with the added remark that this had already been underconsideration--which indeed was true--not a very common occurrence inRoyal messages of that day; and that he was also prepared to settlefifty thousand a year on the prince himself forever and withoutcondition. Walpole did not believe that the prince would accept thisoffer of compromise. He knew very well that Frederick, full ofarrogant confidence and obstinacy, and backed up by the zeal andpassion of his friends, would be certain to refuse it. But Walpole wasnot thinking much about the impression which the offer would make onthe prince. The thought uppermost in his mind was of the impression itwould make on the House of Commons. Unless some new impression couldbe made upon the House, the triumph of the prince was absolutelycertain; and Walpole felt sure that if any step could now alter thecondition of things in the House of Commons it would be the publicationof the fact that the King had spontaneously held out the olive-branch;that {81} he had offered a fair compromise, and that the prince hadrefused it. 

Walpole had much trouble to prevail upon the King to make any offer ofcompromise. Even Lord Hervey was strongly of opinion that the attemptwould be a failure, that the proffered concession would be whollythrown away; such a movement, he said, would neither put off the battlenor gain the King one single desertion from the ranks of the enemy, while to the King's own party it would seem something like a loweringof the flag. Walpole, however, persevered, and he carried his point. A deputation, headed by the new Lord Chancellor, Lord Hardwicke, whohad succeeded to the Great Seal on the death of his famous rival, LordChancellor Talbot, was sent to wait on the prince and submit to him theproposition of his father. The prince answered rather ungraciouslythat the matter was entirely out of his hands now, and that thereforehe could give no answer to the Royal message. It must be gratifying toevery patriotic soul to know that his Royal Highness accompanied thisdeclaration with "many dutiful expressions" towards his father, andthat he even went so far as to say he was sorry it was not in his powerto do otherwise than as he had done. The dutiful expressions did notby any means charm away the wrath either of the King or the Queen. Thetwo stormed and raged against Frederick, and called him by many veryhard names. Both were much disposed to storm against Walpole too, forthe advice he had given, and for his pertinacity in forcing them on toa step which had brought nothing but humiliation. Walpole bore hisposition with a kind of patience which might be called either proud orstolid, according as one is pleased to look at it. With all hiscourage, Walpole must have felt some qualms of uneasiness now and then, but if he did feel he certainly did not show them. 

{82}

CHAPTER XXVI. 

A PERILOUS VICTORY. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Incentives to valor]

On Tuesday, February 22d, the debate took place in the House of Commons. It came on in the form of a motion for an address to the Sovereign, praying that he would make to the Prince of Wales an independentallowance of one hundred thousand a year. The motion was proposed byPulteney himself. Lord Hervey seems to be surprised that Pulteney, afterhaving advised the prince not to press on any such motion, should, nevertheless, when the prince did persevere, actually propose the motionhimself. But such a course is common enough even in our own days, whenstatesmen make greater effort at political and personal consistency. Aman often argues long and earnestly in the Cabinet or in the councils ofthe Opposition against some particular proposal, and then, when it is, inspite of his advice, made a party resolve, he goes to the House ofCommons and speaks in its favor; nay, even it may be, proposes it. Pulteney made a long and what would now be called an exhaustive speech. It was stuffed full of portentous erudition about the early history ofthe eldest sons of English kings. The speech was said to have beendelivered with much less than Pulteney's usual force and fire; andindeed, so far as one can judge by the accounts--they can hardly becalled reports--preserved of it, one is obliged to regard it as rather alanguid and academical dissertation. We start off with what Henry theThird did for his son, afterwards Edward the First, when that noble youthhad reached the unripe age of fourteen. He granted to him the Duchy ofGuienne; he put him in possession of the Earldom of {83} Chester; he madehim owner of the cities and towns of Bristol, Stamford, and Grantham, with several other castles and manors; he created him Prince of Wales, towhich, lest it should be merely a barren title, he annexed all theconquered lands in Wales; and he created him Governor of Ireland. Allthis, to be sure, was mightily liberal on the part of Henry the Third, and a very handsome and right royal way of providing for his own family;but it might be supposed an argument rather to frighten than to encouragea modern English Parliament. But the orator went on to show whatglorious deeds in arms were done by this highly endowed prince, and theinferences which he appeared to wish his audience to draw were twofold:first, that Edward would never have done these glorious deeds if hisfather had not given him these magnificent allowances; and next, that ifan equal, or anything like an equal, liberality were shown to Frederick, Prince of Wales, it was extremely probable that he would rush into thefield at the first opportunity and make a clean sweep of the foes ofEngland. 

We need not follow the orator through his account of what was done forEdward the Black Prince, and what Edward the Black Prince had done inconsequence; and how Henry the Fifth had been able to conquer Francebecause of his father's early liberality. The whole argument tended toimpress upon the House of Commons the maxim that in a free country, aboveall others, it is absolutely necessary to have the heir-apparent of thecrown bred up in a state of grandeur and independency. Despite thehigh-flown sentiments and the grandiose historical illustrations in whichthe speaker indulged, there seems to the modern intelligence an inherentmeanness, a savor of downright vulgarity, through the whole of it. Ifyou give a prince only fifty thousand a year, you can't expect anythingof him. What can he know of grandeur of soul, of national honor, ofconstitutional rights, of political liberty? You can't get thesequalities in a prince unless you pay him at least a hundred thousand ayear while his {84} father is living. [Sidenote: 1737--Providing for aPrince] The argument would have told more logically if the EnglishParliament were going into the open market to buy the best prince theycould get. There would be some show of reason in arguing that the morewe pay the better article we shall have. But it is hard indeed tounderstand how a prince who is to be worth nothing if you give him onlyfifty thousand a year, will be another Black Prince or Henry the Fifth ifyou let him have the spending of fifty thousand a year more. Walpole ledthe Opposition to the motion. Much of the argument on both sides wasessentially sordid, but there was a good deal also which was keen, close, and clever, and which may have even now a sort of constitutionalinterest. The friends of the prince knew they would have to meet thecontention that Parliament had no right to interfere with the Sovereign'sappropriation of the revenues allotted to him. They therefore contended, and, as it seems to us, with force and justice, that the Parliament whichmade the grants had a perfect right to see that the grants wereappropriated to the uses for which they were intended, to follow out thegrants in the course of their application, and even to direct that theyshould be applied to entirely different purposes; even, if need were, toresume them. It would naturally seem to follow from this assumption, that Parliament had a right to call on the King to make the allowance tothe prince, but it would seem to follow also that the allowance ought notto be made independent and absolute. For, if the Prince of Wales had anallowance absolutely independent of the will of any one, he had somethingwhich Pulteney and his friends were contending, as it was their businessjust then to contend, that the English Parliament had never consented togive to the King. On the other hand, it was pointed out with much effectthat there never had been any express regulation in England to providethat the Prince of Wales should be made independent of his father, andthere was clear good-sense in the contempt with which Walpole treated theargument that the State dependency upon his father in {85} which the sonof a great family usually lives, must necessarily tend to the debasing ofthe son's mind and the diminishing of his intelligence, or that thedignity and grandeur even of a Prince of Wales could not be as wellsupported by a yearly allowance as by a perpetual and independentsettlement. Some of the speakers on Walpole's side--indeed, Walpolehimself occasionally--strove to show their willingness to serve theprince by utterances which must have caused the prince to smile a grim, sardonic smile if he had any existing sense of humor. Please do notimagine--this was the line of observation--that we think one hundredthousand a year too much for his Royal Highness. Oh dear, no; nothing ofthe kind; we do not think it would be half enough if only the nation hadthe money to give away. "Why, " exclaimed one gushing orator, "if we hadthe money the only course we could take would be to offer his RoyalHighness whatever he pleased to accept, and even in that case we shouldhave reason to fear lest his modesty might do an injury to his generosityby making him confine his demand within the strictest bounds of barenecessity. " "Were we, " another member of the Court party declared, "tomeasure the prince's allowance by the prince's merit, as we know nobounds to the latter, we could prescribe no bounds to the former. "Therefore, as it was totally impossible that the treasury of any Statecould reward this extraordinary prince according to his merit, thespeakers on Walpole's side mildly pleaded that they had only to fall backon the cold and commonplace rules of ordinary economy, and try to findout what sum the nation could really afford to hand over. 

The men who talked these revolting absurdities were saying amongthemselves an hour after that the prince was an avaricious and greedybeast, and were openly proclaiming their pious wish that Providence wouldbe graciously inclined to rid the world of him. Nothing strikes one asmore painful and odious in the ways of that Court and that Parliamentthan the language of sickening sycophancy which is used by all statesmenalike in public {86} with regard to kings and princes, for whom inprivate they could find no words of abuse too strong and coarse, no cursetoo profane. Never was an Oriental despot the most vain and crueladdressed in language of more nauseous flattery by great ministers andofficers of State than were the early English sovereigns of the House ofHanover. The filthy indecency which came so habitually from the lips ofWalpole, of other statesmen, of the King--sometimes even of the Queenherself--hardly seems more ignoble, more demoralizing, than theoutpouring of a flattery as false as it was gross, a flattery that oughtto have sickened alike the man who poured it out and the man whom it waspoured over. Poor, stupid George seems to have been always taken in byit. Indeed, in his dull, heavy mind there was no praise the voice of mancould utter which could quite come up to his perfections. Thequicker-witted Queen sometimes writhed under it. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Comparisons]

Walpole, however, did not depend upon argument to carry his point. Thestone up his sleeve, to use a somewhat homely expression, which he meantto fling at his enemy, was something quite different from any question ofConstitution or prescription or precedent; of the genius of the BlackPrince, and the manner in which Wild Hal, Falstaff's companion, had beenendowed and allowanced into Henry, the victor of Agincourt. Walpoleflung down, metaphorically speaking, on the table of the House the recordof the interview between the Prince of Wales and the great peers whowaited on him, bearing the message of the King. The record set forth allthat had happened: how the King had declared himself willing to provideat once a suitable jointure for the Princess of Wales; how he had shownthat this had been under consideration, and explained in the simplest waythe reason why the arrangement had been delayed; how his Majesty hadvoluntarily taken it on himself that the prince should have fiftythousand a year absolutely independent of the Sovereign's future action, and over and above the revenues arising from the duchy of Cornwall, whichhis Majesty {87} thinks a very competent allowance, considering his ownnumerous issue and the great expenses which do, and which necessarilymust, attend an honorable provision for his whole royal family. And thenthe record gave the answer of the Prince of Wales and its peculiarconclusion; "Indeed, my lords, it is in other hands--I am sorry for it;""or, " as the record of the peers cautiously concluded, "to that effect. "

The reading of this document had one effect, which was instantly invokedfor it by Walpole. It brought the whole controversy down to the questionwhether the prince's father or the prince's friends ought to be thebetter authority as to the amount which the King could afford to give, and the amount which the prince ought to be encouraged to demand. Itshrunk, in fact, into a mean discussion about the cost of provisions andthe amounts of the land-tax; the number of children George the Second hadto maintain as compared with the small family George the First had toprovide for; the fact that George the Second had a wife to maintain inbecoming state in England, whereas George the First had saved himselffrom the occasion of any such outlay; the total amount left for Georgethe Second to spend as compared with the total amount which the differingconditions left at the disposal of his illustrious father. Let us seewhat the income of the Prince of Wales was computed to be by his friendsat that time. He had fifty thousand a year allowance. From that, saidhis friends, we must deduct the land-tax, which at two shillings in thepound amounts to 5000 pounds a year. This brings the allowance down to45, 000 pounds. Then comes the sixpenny duty to the Civil List lottery, which has also to be deducted from the poor prince's dwindling pittance, and likewise the fees payable at the Exchequer; and the sixpenny dutyamounts to 1250 pounds, and the fees to about 750 pounds, so thataltogether 7000 pounds would have to be taken off, leaving the princeonly 43, 000 pounds allowance. Then, to be sure, there was the duchy ofCornwall, the revenues of which, it was insisted, {88} did not amount tomore than 9000 pounds a year, so that, all told, the prince's incomeavailable for spending purposes was but 53, 000 pounds a year. And yet, they pleaded pathetically, the yearly expense of the prince's household, acknowledged and ratified by the King himself, came to 63, 000 poundswithout allowing his Royal Highness one shilling for the indulgence ofthat generous and charitable disposition with which Heaven had sobounteously endowed him. 

[Sidenote: Wealthy King; semi-starved people]

Walpole's instinct had conducted him right. The reading of the message, which Walpole delivered with great rhetorical effect, carried confusioninto the Tory ranks. Two hundred and four members voted for the Address, two hundred and thirty-four voted against it. The King's friends were ina majority of thirty. Archdeacon Coxe in his "Life of Walpole" gives itas his opinion that the victory was obtained because some forty-five ofthe Tories quitted the House in a body before the division, believingthat they were thus acting on constitutional principles, and that theinterference of the House of Commons would be an unconstitutional, democratic, and dangerous innovation. But it is hardly possible tobelieve that the managers of the prince's case could have been kept intotal ignorance up to the last moment of the fact that forty-five Torieswere determined to regard the interference of Parliament asunconstitutional, and to abstain from taking part in the division. It isdeclared to be positively certain that the "whips, " as we should now callthem, of the prince's party had canvassed every man on their own side, ifnot on both sides. They could not have made up anything like the numberthey announced in anticipation to the prince if they had taken intoaccount forty-five probable or possible abstentions among their own men. The truth evidently is that the reading of the King's message compelled agood many Tories to withdraw who already were somewhat uncertain as tothe constitutionalism, in the Tory sense, of the course their leaderswere taking. They would probably have swallowed {89} their scruples butfor the message; that dexterous stroke of policy was too much for them. How can we--they probably thus reasoned with themselves--back up to thelast a prince who positively refused to listen to the offer of acompromise spontaneously made by his father?

Money went much further in those days than it does in ours. Fiftythousand pounds a year must have been a magnificent fortune for a Princeof Wales in the earlier part of the last century. On the other hand, George the Second was literally stuffed and bloated with money. He hadbetween eight and nine hundred thousand a year, and his wife was richlyprovided for. Odious bad taste, selfishness, and griping avarice wereexhibited on both sides of the dispute; it would be hard to say whichside showed to the lesser advantage. There was much poverty all thistime in London, and indeed over the whole country. Trade was depressed;employment was hard to get; within a stone's-throw of St. James's Palacemen, women, and children were living in a chronic condition ofsemi-starvation. The Court and the Parliament were wrangling fiercelyover the question whether a king with a revenue of nearly a million couldafford to give his eldest son an extra fifty thousand a year, and whethera Prince of Wales could live in decency on fifty-three thousand a year. The patient, cool-headed people of England who knew of all this--such ofthem as did--and who hated both king and prince alike, yet put up withthe whole thing simply because they had come to the conviction thatnothing was to be gained by any attempt at a change. They had beenpassing through so many changes, they had been the victims of so manyexperiments, that they had not the slightest inclination to venture onany new enterprise. They preferred to bear the ills they had; but theyknew that they were ills, and put on no affectation of a belief that theywere blessings. 

The debate in the House of Lords took place on Friday, February 25th. Lord Carteret proposed the motion for the Address to the King, and wentover much of the {90} same historical ground that Pulteney had traversedin the Commons. The Duke of Newcastle replied in his usual awkward andbungling fashion, with the uneasy attitudes and clownish gestures whichwere characteristic of him. He was not able to make any effective use ofthe King's message, and the Lord Chancellor read it for him. Thedivision in the House of Lords showed seventy-nine votes and twenty-fourproxies for the King, in all one hundred and three; and twenty-eightvotes and twelve proxies for the prince, in all forty; the King had amajority, therefore, of sixty-three. Some of the peers, among them LordCarteret and Lord Chesterfield, signed a protest against the decision ofthe House. The protest is like so many other protests of the Lords--avery interesting and even valuable State paper, setting forth as it doesall the genuine arguments of the prince's supporters in the clearest formand in the fewest words. The House of Lords at that time was a moreindependent body than it has shown itself in later years. Even already, however, it was giving signs of that decay as an effective politicalinstitution which had begun to set in, and which was the direct result ofWalpole's determination to rely upon the representative Chamber for thereal work of governing the country. Neither Walpole nor any one elseseemed to care very much about the debate or the division in the House ofLords. Already discussions in that Chamber, no matter how eloquent andearnest in themselves, were beginning to assume that academic characterwhich always, sooner or later, is exhibited where political debate is notendowed with any power to act directly on legislation. 

[Sidenote: 1737--A man of consequence]

Walpole's victory was a very cheap affair in one sense; it cost only 900pounds, of which 500 pounds were given to one man and 400 pounds toanother. Even these two sums, Walpole used to say, were only advances. The bribed men were to have had the money at the end of the session inany case, but they took advantage of the crisis to demand their pay atonce. But in another sense it was a dear, {91} a very dear, victory tothe minister. The consent of the King to the offer of compromise hadbeen extorted, more than extorted, by Walpole. Indeed, as Walpole oftenafterwards told the story, it was on his part not an extortion, but anactual disregard and overriding of the King's command. The King refusedat the last moment to send the message to the prince; Walpole said thePeers were waiting to carry it, and that carry it they should, and hewould not allow the King time to retract his former consent, andthereupon rushed off to the Lords of the Council and told them to go tothe prince with the message. Even the Queen, Walpole said, had nevergiven a real assent to the policy of the message. When the victory inthe Commons was won, the King and Queen were at first well satisfied; butafterwards, when the prince became more rude and insolent in his conduct, they both blamed Walpole for it, and insisted that his policy ofcompromise had only filled the head and heart of the young man with prideand obstinacy, and that he regarded himself as a conqueror, even thoughhe had been nominally conquered. The King felt bitterly about this, andthe grudge he bore to Walpole was of long endurance and envenomed anger. The King and Queen would have got rid of him then if they could, Walpolethought. "I have been much nearer than you think, " he said to LordHervey, "to throwing it all up and going to end my days at Houghton inquiet. " But he also told Hervey that he believed he was of moreconsequence than any man before him ever was, or perhaps than any manmight ever be again, and so he still held on to his place. No doubtWalpole meant that he was of more consequence than any man had been orprobably would be in England. He did not mean, as Lord Hervey would seemto give out, that he believed he was a greater and more powerful man thanJulius Caesar. Lord Hervey's comment, however, is interesting. "Withregard to States and nations, " he coldly says, "nobody's understanding isso much superior to the rest of mankind as to be missed in a week afterthey have gone; and, with {92} regard to particulars, there is not agreat banker that breaks who does not distress more people than thedisgrace or retirement of the greatest minister that ever presided in aCabinet; nor is there a deceased ploughman who leaves a wife and a dozenbrats behind him that is not lamented with greater sincerity, as well asa loss to more individuals, than any statesman that ever wore a head ordeserved to lose it. " There is a good deal of wholesome, althoughperhaps somewhat melancholy, truth in what Lord Hervey says. Perhaps weought not to call it melancholy; it ought rather to be consideredcheerful and encouraging, in the national sense. The world, some modernwriter has said, shuts up the shop for no man. Yet there is, nevertheless, a tinge of melancholy in the thought of a great mantoiling, striving, giving up all his days and much of his nights to theservice of some cause or country, all the while firmly believing his lifeindispensable to the success of the cause, the prosperity of the country;and he dies, and the cause and the country go on just the same. 

{93}

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"ROGUES AND VAGABONDS. "

[Sidenote: 1737--The English stage]

The condition of the English stage became a subject of some anxietyabout this time, and was made the occasion for the introduction of animportant Act of Parliament. The reader of to-day, looking back on thedramatic literature of the second George's reign, would not be apt tothink that it called for special measures of restriction. The vices ofthe Restoration period had apparently worked out their own cure. Thehideous indecency of Dryden, of Wycherley, and of Vanbrugh had broughtabout a certain reaction. The indecency of such authors as these wasnot merely a coarseness of expression such as most of the Elizabethanwriters freely indulged in, and which has but little to do with thedeeper questions of morality; nor did its evil consist merely in thechoice of subjects which are painful to study, and of questionableinfluence on the mind. Many of the finest plays of Ford and Massingerand Webster turn on sin and crime, the study of which it mightreasonably be contended must always have the effect of disturbing themoral sense, if not of actually depraving the mind. But no one canpretend to find in the best of the Elizabethan writers any sympathywith viciousness, any stimulus to immorality. Of the Restorationauthors, in general, the very contrary has to be said. They revel inuncleanness; they glorify immorality. It is the triumph and the honorof a gentleman to seduce his friend's wife or his neighbor's daughter. The business and the glory of men is the seduction of women. Thesympathy of the dramatic author and his readers goes always with theseducer. The husband of the {94} faithless wife is a subject ofinextinguishable merriment and laughter. His own friends are made tolaugh at him, and to feel a genuine delight in his suffering and hisshame. The question of morality altogether apart, it seems positivelywonderful to an English reader of to-day why the writers of theRestoration period should have always felt such an exuberant joy in thethought that a man's wife was unfaithful to him. The common feeling ofall men, even the men meant to be best, in the plays of Wycherley andVanbrugh, seems one that might find expression in some such words asthese: "I should like to seduce every pretty married woman if I could, but if I have not time or chance for such delight it is at least agreat pleasure and comfort to me to know that she has been seduced bysomebody; it is always a source of glee to me to know that a husbandhas been deceived; and, if the husband himself comes to know it too, that makes my joy all the greater. " The delight in sin seems to havemade men in a certain sinful sense unselfish. They delighted so invice that they were glad to hear of its existence even where it broughtthem no direct personal gratification. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Audacious attempt a black-mailing]

All this had changed in the days of George the Second. There had beena gradual and marked improvement in the moral tone of the drama, unaccompanied, it must be owned, by any very decided improvement in themoral tone of society. Perhaps the main difference between the time ofthe Restoration and that of the early Georges is that the vice of theRestoration was wanton school-boy vice, and that of the early Georgesthe vice of mature and practical men. In the Restoration time peopledelighted in showing off their viciousness and making a frolic and aparade of it; at the time of the Georges they took their profligacy ina quiet, practical, man-of-the-world sort of way, and made no workabout it. One effect of this difference was felt in the greaterdecorum, the greater comparative decorum, of the Georgian drama. 

Yet this was the time when Walpole thought it necessary to introduce ameasure putting the stage under new {95} and severe restrictions. Walpole himself cared nothing about literature, and nothing about thedrama; and he was as little squeamish as man could possibly be in thematter of plain-spoken indecency. What troubled him was not theindecency of the stage, but its political innuendo. It never occurredto him to care whether anything said in Drury Lane or Covent Gardenbrought a blush to the cheek of any young person; but he was muchconcerned when he heard of anything said there which was likely to makepeople laugh at a certain elderly person. As we have seen, he hadnever got the best of it in the long war of pamphlets and squibs andepigrams and caricature. It was out of his power to hire penmen whocould stand up against such antagonists as Swift and Bolingbroke andPulteney. He was out of humor with the press; had been out of humorwith it for a long time; and now he began to be out of humor with thestage. Indeed, it should rather be said that he was now falling into anew fit of ill-humor with the stage; for he had been very angry indeedwith Gay for his "Beggars' Opera, " and for the attempt at acontinuation of "The Beggars' Opera" in the yet more audacious "Polly, "which brought in more money to Gay from its not having been allowed toget on the stage than its brilliant predecessor had done after all itsunexampled run. The measure of Walpole's wrath was filled by theknowledge that a piece was in preparation in which he was to be held upto public ridicule in the rudest and most uncompromising way. Walpoleacted with a certain boldness and cunning. The play was brought tohim, was offered for sale to him. This was an audacious attempt atblack-mailing; and at first it appeared to be successful. Walpoleagreed to the terms, bought the play, paid the money, and thenproceeded at once to make the fact that such a piece had been written, and but for his payment might have been played, an excuse for theintroduction of a measure to put the whole English stage underrestriction, and to brand it with terms of shame. He picked outcarefully all the worst passages, {96} and had them copied, and sentround in private to the leading members of all parties in the House ofCommons, and appealed to them to support him in passing a measure whichhe justified in advance by the illustrations of dramatic licentiousnessthus brought under their own eyes. By this mode of action he securedbeforehand an amount of support which made the passing of his Bill amatter of almost absolute certainty. Under these favorable conditionshe introduced his Playhouse Bill. 

[Sidenote: 1737--The Press and the Theatre]

The Playhouse Bill was a measure that attracted much attention, andprovoked a very fierce controversy. It was a Bill to explain and amendso much of an Act made in the twelfth year of the reign of Queen Anne, entitled "An Act for reducing the laws relating to rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and vagrants, and sending them whither they ought to besent, " as relates to the common players of interludes. One clauseempowered the Lord Chamberlain to prohibit the representation of anytheatric performance, and compelled all persons to send copies of newplays, or new parts or prologues or epilogues added to old plays, fourteen days before performance, in order that they might be submittedto the Lord Chamberlain for his permission or prohibition. Everyperson who set up a theatre, or gave a theatrical exhibition, withouthaving a legal settlement in the place where the exhibition was given, or authority by letters-patent from the Crown, or a license from theLord Chamberlain, was to be deemed a rogue and vagabond, and subject tothe penalties liberally doled out to such homeless offenders. Thesystem of license thus virtually established by Walpole is the samethat prevails in our own day. We do not, indeed, stigmatize managersand actors as rogues and vagabonds, even if they should happen to givea theatrical performance without the fully ascertained permission ofthe authorities, and we no longer keep up the monopoly of what used tobe called the patent theatres. But the principle of Walpole's Act isthe principle of our present system. A play must have the permissionof the Lord Chamberlain before {97} it can be put on the stage; andwhile it is in course of performance the Lord Chamberlain can insist onany amendments or alterations in the dialogue or in the dresses whichhe believes necessary in the interest of public morality. A manageris, therefore, put under conditions quite different from those whichsurround a publisher; an actor is fenced in by preliminary restrictionswhich do not trouble an author. There is no censorship of the press;there is a censorship of the theatre. If a publisher brings out anybook which is grossly indecent or immoral or blasphemous, he can beprosecuted, and if a conviction be obtained he can of course bepunished. But there is no way of preventing him from bringing out thebook; there is no authority which has to be appealed to beforehand forits sanction. 

"Is this right?" The question is still asked, Why should the people ofthese countries submit to a censorship of the press? What can be thecomparison between the harm done by a play which is seldom seen morethan once by the same person, and is likely to be forgotten a weekafter it is seen, and the evil done by a bad book which finds its wayinto households, and lies on tables, and may be read again and againuntil its poison has really corrupted the mind? Again, a parent isalmost sure to exercise some caution when he is taking his children toa theatre. He will find out beforehand what the play is like, andwhether it is the sort of performance his daughter ought to see. Butit is out of the question to suppose that a parent will be able to readbeforehand every book that comes into his house in order to make surethat it contains nothing which is unfit for a girl to study. Why thennot have a censorship of the press as well as of the theatre, or whyhave the one if you will not have the other? The answer to the firstquestion is that a censorship of the press is impossible in England. The multitude of publications forbids it. The most imaginative personwould find his imagination fail him if he tried to realize in his mindthe idea of the British public waiting for its morning {98} newspaperseveral hours while the censor was crawling over its columns to findout whether they contained anything that could bring a blush to thecheek of a young person. It would be ridiculous to put in force acensorship for books which had no application to newspapers. But it isquite easy to maintain a certain form of censorship over the theatres. The number of plays brought out in a year is comparatively small. Thepreparation for each new play after it has been written and has passedaltogether out of its author's hands must necessarily take some time, and there is hardly any practical inconvenience, therefore, in itsbeing submitted to the Lord Chamberlain for his approval. But thencomes the question, Is the censorship of any use? Are we any thebetter for having it? Should we not get on just as well without it?The answer, as it seems to us, ought to be that the censorship is onthe whole of some use; that we are better with it than without it. Itwould be idle to contend that it is of any great service to publicmorality in the higher sense, but is certainly of considerableadvantage as a safeguard to public decency and decorum. The censorshipof the stage in England to-day does not pretend to be a guardian ofpublic morality. In all that relates to the higher moral law thepublic must take care of itself. Let us give one or two illustrations. Many sincere and not unintelligent persons firmly believe that thecause of public morality is injured by the representation of any playin which vice of a certain kind is brought under public notice, eventhough the object of the play may be to condemn the vice it exposes;but no censor of plays now would think of refusing to permit theperformance of "Othello" on that account. To take a lowerillustration: many people believe, and on better ground, that such apiece as "The Lady of Lyons" is injurious to public morals, because inthat play the man who makes himself a leading actor in an infamousfraud becomes glorified into a hero and wins fame, fortune, and wife inthe end. But no censor would think of refusing to allow theperformance of "The Lady of Lyons. " The {99} censor regards it as hisduty to take care that indecent words are not spoken, and that whatsociety considers indecent dressing is not exhibited. That is notmuch, it may be said, but it is better than nothing, and it is all wecan get or would have. The censor cannot go ahead of the prevailinghabits and the common opinion of the society of his day. If we had acensor who started a lofty code of morality and propriety all his own, public opinion would not stand him and his code. Suppose we had acensor who considered "Othello" shocking, and an ordinary _décolletée_dress or an ordinary ballet costume indecent, an outcry would soon beraised against him which would compel him to resign his purposes or hisoffice. All he can do is to endeavor to order things so that nothingis said or exhibited which might shock society's sense of propriety, and this he can as a rule fairly accomplish. He must also take hissociety as he finds it. A West End audience in London will standallusions and jests and scantiness of costume which an East Endaudience, made up almost exclusively of the working-people and thepoor, would not endure for a moment. The censor of plays can be muchmore rigid in his discipline when he is protecting the proprieties ofpoverty than when he is protecting the proprieties of fashion. Thecensorship works well in England on the whole, because it has almostalways been worked by capable men of the world who understand that theyare not dealing with children, who do not magnify their office, and donot strain after an austere authority which it would be quiteimpossible for them to exert. 

[Sidenote: 1737--The Playhouse Bill]

The Playhouse Bill passed through the House of Commons easily enough. No one of any mark took much account of it, except Pulteney, whoopposed it. The opposition offered by Pulteney does not appear to havebeen very severe or even serious, for no division was taken in therepresentative Chamber. The feeling of every one was not so muchconcerned about what we should now call immorality or indecency, butabout lampoons on public men. This fear was common to the Oppositionas well as to the {100} Government, was shared alike by the Patriotsand the Court party; and so the Bill was sent speedily through bothHouses. 

[Sidenote: 1737--The censorship of the stage]

The debate was made memorable by the brilliant speech of LordChesterfield in the House of Lords. All contemporary accounts agree indescribing this speech as one of the most fascinating and impressiveever heard in Parliament. Chesterfield strongly opposed the measure inthe interests of public liberty and the freedom of the press. He knewwhere to hit hard when he called the licensing department which theBill proposed to create "a new excise. " The real object of themeasure, he insisted, was not so much to restrain the stage as toshackle the press. "It is an arrow that does but glance at the stage;the mortal wound seems destined against the liberty of the press. " Hisargument to this effect was decidedly clever, keen, plausible, andtelling. "You can prevent a play from being acted, " he said, "but youdo not prevent it from being printed. Therefore a play which by yourcensorship you refuse to allow to come on the stage, and in theinterests of public morals very properly refuse, you allow to come in aprinted form on the shelves of the booksellers. The very fact that aplay was not allowed to be put on the stage will only make people themore eager to read it in book form; prohibited publications are in allcountries diligently and generally sought after. Plays will be writtenin order to be prohibited by the censor and then to be sold in bookform. What will come of this? Unquestionably an extension of thepresent measure for the purpose of preventing the printing as well asthe public representation of plays. It is out of the question thatsociety could allow a play to be read by all the public which it wouldnot allow to be recited on the boards of a theatre. Now then you havegot so far as the preventing of plays from being printed, what happensnext? That a writer will turn his rejected, prohibited play into anovel or something of the kind; will introduce a little narrative aswell as dialogue, and in this slightly {101} altered form offer hispiece of scandalous work to the general reader. Then it will be asked, What! will you allow an infamous libel to be printed and dispersedmerely because it does not bear the title of a play? Thus, my Lords, from the precedent before us, we may, we shall be induced, nay, we canfind no reason for refusing to lay the press under a general license, and then we may bid adieu to the liberties of Great Britain. "

There was a great deal of force and of justice in Chesterfield'sreasoning. But its defect was that it made no account of the amount ofcommon-sense which must go to the administration of law in everyprogressive country. If the censorship of the stage had been worked inthe spirit and style which Chesterfield expected, then it is beyondquestion that it would have to be followed up by a censorship of thepress or withdrawn altogether. It would clearly be impossible to allowthe very words which were not to be spoken on the stage to be set outin the clearest type on the shelves of every bookseller. ButChesterfield's own speech showed that he had entirely misconceived theextent and operation of a censorship of the stage in a country likeEngland. The censorship of the stage which Chesterfield assumed to becoming, and which he condemned, could not possibly, as we have shown, exist in those islands. The censorship of the stage, if it were tomove in such a direction, would not be paving the way for a censorshipof the press, but simply paving the way for its own abolition. Thespeech was a capital and a telling piece of argument addressed to anaudience who were glad to hear something decided and animated on thesubject; but it never could have deceived Chesterfield himself. Ittook no account of the elementary political fact that all legislationis compromise, and that the supposed logical and extreme consequencesof no measure are ever allowed to follow its enactment. The censorshipof plays has gone on since that time, and it has not interfered withthe general liberty of acting and of publishing dramatic pieces. Ithas not compelled {102} Parliament to choose between introducing acensorship of the press or abolishing the censorship of plays. We havenever heard of any play worth seeing which was lost to the Englishstage through the censorship of the drama, nor was the suggestion evermade by the most reactionary Ministry that it should be followed up bya censorship of the press. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Educated libellers]

Indeed in Walpole's day it might almost have seemed as if the stagerequired censorship less than the ballad. Probably, if it had beenthought humanly possible to prevent the publication and the circulationof scurrilous poems against eminent men and women, Walpole might haveventured on the experiment. But he had too much robust common-sensenot to recognize the impossibility of doing anything effective in theway of repression in that field of art. 

Certainly the Muse of Song made herself very often a shrieking sisterin those days. When she turned her attention to politics, and had herpatrons to be sung up and her patrons' enemies to be sung down, shevery often screamed and called names, and cursed like an intoxicatedfish-wife. Pope, Swift, Gay, Hervey, flung metrical abuse about in thecoarsest fashion. There seemed to be hardly any pretence at accuracyof description or epithet. If the poet or the poet's patron did notlike a man or woman, no word of abuse was too coarse or foul to beemployed against the odious personage. Women, indeed, got off ratherworse than men on the whole; even Lord Hervey did not suffer so much atthe hands of Pope as did Mary Wortley Montagu. The poets of onefaction did not spare even the princes and princesses, even the King orQueen, of another. Furious and revolting lines were written aboutGeorge and his wife by one set of versifiers; about the Prince of Walesby another. No hour, no event, was held sacred. Around a death-bedthe wits were firing off their sarcasms on its occupant. Some of theverses written about Queen Caroline, verses often containing thefoulest and filthiest libels, followed her into the sick-chamber, {103}the bed of death, the coffin, and the grave. One could easilyunderstand all this if the libellers had been vulgar and venal GrubStreet hacks who were paid to attack some enemy of their paymaster. But the vilest calumnies of the time were penned by men of genius, bymen of the highest rank in literature; by men whose literary positionmade them the daily companions of great nobles and of princes andprincesses. Political and social hatred seemed to level alldistinctions and to obliterate most of the Christian virtues. 

{104}

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE BANISHED PRINCE. 

[Sidenote: 1737--An important affair]

The conduct of the Prince of Wales was becoming more and more insolentto the King and Queen every day. Perhaps King George was right in hisbelief that Walpole's policy of compromise had made Frederick thinkhimself of some real account in public affairs. It is certain that hebegan to act as if he were determined the whole nation should know howthoroughly independent he was of the authority of his father andmother. He had soon a peculiar opportunity of making a display of thisferocious independence. 

The Princess of Wales was about to have her first child. For somereason, which no one could well explain, the news of the coming eventwas not made known to the King and Queen until the hour of its comingwas very near. Even then there seems to have been some conscious orunconscious misleading of the King and Queen as to the actual time whenaccording to calculations the child was to be born. The King and Queenwere left under the impression that it was a good deal further off thanit really proved to be. The Queen, with all her natural goodness ofheart, was painfully suspicious. She was suspicious sometimes even ofthose she loved and trusted; and she hated both the Prince and thePrincess of Wales. She had taken it into her head that the Princess ofWales was not likely to have a child. She persisted in asserting tothose around her that the princess was not pregnant and never would be. Naturally when she allowed her mind to be filled with this idea, thenext conclusion for her to jump at was the conviction that asupposititious infant was about to be palmed off on the Palace and the{105} country. This idea took full possession of her mind, and shekept constantly telling those around her that, no matter when or wherethe event might take place, she was determined to be in at that birth. In the most explicit and emphatic way she told people that she wouldmake sure for herself that no child was imported in a warming-pan thistime. 

The King and Queen were now in Hampton Court Palace; the Prince andPrincess of Wales were also living there. Nothing would have beeneasier for the Queen than to carry out her purpose if the princess wereallowed to remain in the palace until after her confinement. It wasreported to her that the prince had said he was anxious that his wifeshould be confined in London--in St. James's Palace. This the Queenwas determined to prevent if she could. The Princess Caroline fullyshared her mother's belief that the Prince of Wales was quite capableof palming off a spurious child on the country; and indeed the Kingbecame after a while as well convinced of it as his wife and hisdaughter. It was resolved that a message should be sent from the Kingto the Prince of Wales, giving a sort of Royal command that theprincess should remain at Hampton Court until after her confinement. Lord Hervey shook his head at all this. He did not believe in thewarming-pan fantasy; and he felt sure that in any case the Prince ofWales would contrive to get his wife out of Hampton Court if he wishedto do so. What was to prevent the princess going up to London a littlebefore her time, and then affecting to fall suddenly ill there, anddeclaring that she could not endure the pain and danger of removal?Lord Hervey had seen a good deal of the prince in old days. They hadhad friendships and quarrels and final estrangement, and he knew hisprince pretty well. 

What Hervey had predicted came to pass, but in a worse way than he hadventured to predict. The Queen kept urging Walpole to send the King'sorder to the prince. Walpole kept putting it off. For one reason, the{106} minister had been told the confinement was to be expected inOctober, and this was only July. It is very likely, too, that heshared Hervey's scepticism alike as to the supposititious child and thepossibility of keeping the prince's wife at Hampton Court against theprince's will. The Royal command was never sent. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Neighbors requisitioned]

On Sunday, July 31, 1737, the Prince of Wales and the princess dinedpublicly with the King and Queen in Hampton Court Palace. Not a wordwas said to any one about an early approach of the confinement. Theprincess seemed in her usual condition. The two sets of royalpersonages did not talk with each other at this time, although theythus had ceremonial meetings in public. The Queen called the attentionof some one near her to the princess's appearance, and insisted thatshe was not going to have a child at all. When dinner was over, theprince and princess went back to their own apartments, and later thatevening the princess was taken with the pains of labor. Then followedwhat has hardly ever happened in the story of the life of a poorwasher-woman or a peasant's wife. The unfortunate princess was fargone in her agony before any one had time to think; and before thosearound them had much time to think the Prince of Wales had determinedto carry her off, groaning in labor as she was, and take her ten milesto London. The whole story is a shocking one; and we shall put it intoa very narrow compass. But it has to be told somehow. By the help ofan equerry and a dancing-master, the writhing princess was hoisteddown-stairs and got into a carriage. The dancing-master, Dunoyer, wasa hanger-on and favorite of the prince; and, being employed to teachdancing to the younger children of George the Second, acted as a kindof licensed spy, so Hervey says, on the one family and the other. Inthe carriage with the prince and princess came Lady Archibald Hamilton, who was understood to be the prince's mistress. No royal movement inthose days would seem to be thought quite complete without the presenceof some mistress of the {107} King or prince. The carriage reachedLondon about ten o'clock. It had been driven at full gallop, the poorprincess writhing and screaming all the time, and the prince scoldingat her and telling her it was nonsense to cry and groan about painwhich would so soon be over. When they got to St. James's Palace therewere naturally no preparations made for a lying-in. The prince andLady Archibald Hamilton set to work to get some things in readiness, and found they had to send round the neighborhood to collect some ofthe most necessary appliances for such an occasion. So pitifullyunprovided was the palace that no clean sheets could be found, and theprince and his mistress put the princess to bed between twotable-cloths. At a quarter before eleven the birth took place. A tinybaby was born; "a little rat of a girl, " Lord Hervey says, "about thebigness of a good large tooth-pick. " The little rat of a girl grew up, however, to be a handsome woman. She was seen by John Wilson Croker in1809 and had still the remains of beauty. The Lords of the Council hadbeen hurriedly sent for to be present at the birth; but the event wasso sudden and so unexpected that only Lord Wilmington, the President ofthe Council, and Lord Godolphin, the Privy Seal, arrived in time to beable to testify that no warming-pan operation was accomplished. 

The unsuspecting King and Queen had gone to bed, according to theirusual quiet custom, at eleven o'clock. Their feelings, as a certainclass of writers are in the habit of saying, may be more easilyimagined than described when they were roused from sleep about two inthe morning by the couriers, who came to tell them that the princesshad become the mother of a girl, and that the prince and princess wereat St. James's Palace, London. There was racing and chasing. Withinhalf an hour the Queen was on the road to London with the two eldestprincesses, Lord Hervey, and others. The Queen comported herself withsome patience and dignity when she saw the prince and princess. Thechild was shown to her. {108} No clothes had yet been found for it butsome napkins and an old red cloak. "The good God bless you, poorlittle creature, " said the Queen in French; "you have come into a verydisagreeable world!"

[Sidenote: 1737--Applying a precedent]

The King and Queen consented to become the godfather and godmother ofthe poor little creature who had been brought thus disagreeably intothis disagreeable world. But the conduct of the prince was regarded asunpardonable, and he was banished by Royal letter from the King'spalace, whether at Hampton Court or St. James's. The prince's ownparty, Pulteney and his colleagues, utterly refused to give theirsanction to the extraordinary course which Frederick had taken. Bolingbroke wrote from France, angrily and scornfully condemning it. But the Patriots were willing, and resolved to stand the prince'sfriends all the same, and they had not even the courage to advise himto make a frank and full apology for his conduct. Indeed the action ofthe prince seems to suggest an approach to insanity rather thandeliberate and reasoned perverseness. He had forced his wife to runthe risk of losing her own life and her child's life, he had grosslyand wantonly offended his father and mother, and he had thrown asecrecy and mystery round the birth of the infant which, if ever therecame to be a dispute about the succession, would give his enemies themost plausible excuse for proclaiming that a spurious child had beenimposed upon the country. As a friend of the Queen said at the time, if ever the Crown came to be fought for again, the only question couldbe whether the people would rather have the Whig bastard or the Torybastard. 

The whole business, as might be expected, caused a terrible scandal. Not merely was the prince banished from the palace, not merely did theKing refuse to see him or to hold further communication with him, butit was formally announced by the Secretaries of State to all theforeign ministers that it would be considered a mark of respect to theSovereign if they would abstain from visiting the prince. Furthermore, a message was sent in {109} writing to all peers, peeresses, and privycouncillors, declaring that no one who went to the prince's court wouldbe admitted into the King's presence. Never probably was domesticdirty linen more publicly washed. Nevertheless, it very soon was madeapparent that the course taken by the King was in strict accordancewith a precedent which at one time had a very direct application tohimself. Some of the prince's friends thought it a clever stroke ofpolicy just then to print and publish the letters which passed betweenthe late King and the present Sovereign when the latter was Prince ofWales and got into a quarrel with his father. The late King sent hisvice-chamberlain to order his son "that he and his domestics must leavemy house. " A copy was also published of a circular letter signed bythe honored name of Joseph Addison, then Secretary of State, addressedto the English ministers at foreign courts, giving the King's versionof the whole quarrel, in order that they might report him and his causearight to the unsatisfied. 

Lord Hervey is inclined to think that it was not the friends of theprince, but rather Walpole himself, who got these letters printed. Hervey does not see what good the publication could do to the princeand the prince's cause, but suggests that it might be a distinctservice to Walpole and Walpole's master to show that the reigning kingin his early days had been treated with even more harshness than he hadjust shown to his own son, and with far less cause to justify theharshness. Still it seems to us natural for the prince's friends tobelieve it would strengthen him in popular sympathy if it were broughtbefore men's minds that the very same sort of treatment of which Georgethe Second complained when it was visited on him by his own father henow had not scrupled nor shamed to visit upon his son. Among otherdiscoveries made at this time with regard to the more secret history ofthe late reign, it was found out that George the First actuallyentertained and encouraged a project for having the Prince of Wales, now George the Second, put on board {110} some war-vessel and "carriedoff to any part of the world that your Majesty may be pleased toorder. " This fact--for a fact it seems to be--did not get to thepublic knowledge; but it came to the knowledge of Lord Hervey, whoprobably had it from the Queen herself, and it is confirmed by otherand different testimony. A Prince of Wales kidnapped and carried outof civilization by the command of his royal father would have made apiquant chapter in modern English history. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Bishop Hoadley and the Test Act]

The prince and princess went to Kew in the first instance, and then theprince took Norfolk House, in St. James's Square, for his townresidence, and Cliefden for his country place. The prince put himselfforward more conspicuously than ever as the head of the Patriot party. It was reported to Walpole that in Frederick's determination to makehimself popular he was resolved to have a Bill brought forward in thecoming session of Parliament to repeal the Test Act. The Test Act waspassed in the reign of Charles the Second, 1673, and it declared thatall officers, civil or military, of the Government must take thesacrament according to the forms of the Church of England, and musttake the oaths against the doctrine of transubstantiation. This Actwas, of course, regarded as a serious grievance by the Dissenters ofall denominations. Some few eminent Churchmen, like Dr. Hoadley, Bishop of Winchester, had always been opposed to the narrow-mindedpolicy of the Act. Hoadley, indeed, had made himself a sort of leaderof the dissenting communities on this subject. For that and otherreasons he had been described as the greatest Dissenter who ever wore amitre. When the report got about that an attempt was to be made tohave the Test Act repealed, Walpole, with his usual astuteness, sentfor the bishop, knowing very well that, if such a determination hadbeen come to, Dr. Hoadley would be among the very first men to beconsulted on the subject. Walpole expressed his mind very freely toHoadley. A coldness had long existed between them, which Walpole'sgift of the Bishopric of Winchester had not removed. {111} Hoadley hadthought Walpole slow, lukewarm, and indifferent about movements inreform of Church and State, which Hoadley regarded as essential partsof the programme of the Whig party. Walpole was perfectly frank withhim on this occasion, and explained to him the difficulty which wouldcome up in English affairs if the Prince of Wales were encouraged toseek popularity at the expense of the King and Queen by making himselfthe champion of the Dissenters' grievances. Hoadley met Walpole in aspirit of similar frankness. He declared that he always had been andalways should be in favor of the repeal of the Test Act, but that hedisapproved altogether of the prince being set up in opposition to theKing; and he believed that even the repeal of the Test Act would bebought at too dear a cost if it were the means of bringing the Kinginto a distressing family quarrel. Therefore the bishop declared thathe would give no encouragement to such a scheme, of which, he said, hehad lately heard nothing from the prince; and that, whatever kindnesseshe might receive from Frederick, he should never forget his duty toGeorge. Walpole was delighted with Hoadley's bearing and Hoadley'sanswer, and seemed as if he never could praise him enough. No one canquestion Hoadley's sincerity. We must only try to get ourselves backinto the framework and the spirit of an age when a sound patriot and ahigh-minded ecclesiastic could be willing to postpone indefinitely anact of justice to a whole section of the community in order to avoidthe risk of having the Sovereign brought into disadvantageouscomparison with the Sovereign's eldest son. Walpole approved of theTest Act no more than Hoadley did, although the spirit of his objectionto it was far less positive and less exalted than that of Hoadley. ButWalpole was, of course, an avowed Opportunist; he never professed orpretended to be anything better. There is nothing surprising in thefact that he regarded an act of justice to the Dissenters as merely amatter of public convenience, to be performed when it could beperformed without disturbing anybody of {112} importance. Hoadley musthave looked at the subject from an entirely different point of view; itmust have been to him a question of justice or injustice; yet he, too, was quite ready to put it off indefinitely rather than allow it to bemade the means of obtaining a certain amount of popular favor for thePrince of Wales as opposed to his father the King. We shall see suchthings occurring again and again in the course of this history. Theagreement of Walpole and Hoadley did, indeed, put off the repeal of theTest Act for a pretty long time. The brand and stigma on theProtestant Dissenters as well as on the Roman Catholics was allowed toremain in existence for nearly another century of English history. Weare now in 1737, and the Test Act was not repealed until 1828. Historians are sometimes reproached for paying too much attention topalace squabbles; yet a palace squabble becomes a matter of someimportance if it can postpone an act of national justice for by far thegreater part of a century. 

[Sidenote: 1737--A question of price]

There was a good deal of talk about this time of the possibility ofadopting some arrangement for the separation of Hanover from theEnglish Crown. The fact of the Princess of Wales having given birth toa daughter and not a son naturally led to a revival of this question. The electorate of Hanover could not descend to a woman, and if thePrince of Wales should have no son some new arrangement would have tobe made. The Queen was very anxious that Hanover should be secured forher second son, to whom she was much attached, and the King wasunderstood to be in favor of this project. On the other hand, it wasgiven out that the Prince of Wales would be quite willing to renouncehis rights in favor of his younger brother on condition of his gettingthe fifty thousand a year additional for which he had been clamoring inParliament. Nothing could be more popular with the country than anyarrangement which would sever the connection between the Crown ofEngland and the electorate of Hanover. If the prince were seekingpopularity, such a proposal coming from him would be popular indeed, provided {113} it were not spoiled by the stipulation about the fiftythousand a year. The Queen's comment upon the rumors as to theprince's intention was that in her firm belief he would sell thereversion of the Crown of England to the Pretender if only thePretender offered him money enough. Nothing came of the talk aboutHanover just then. The King and the Queen had soon something else tothink of. 

{114}

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE QUEEN'S DEATH-BED. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Caroline's death-stroke]

The Queen had long been dying; dying by inches. In one of herconfinements she had been stricken with an ailment from which shesuffered severely. She refused to let any one, even the King, knowwhat was the matter with her. She had the strongest objection to beingregarded as an invalid; and she feared, too, that if anything seriouswere known to be the matter with her she might lose her hold over herselfish husband, who only cared for people as long as they were activein serving and pleasing him. An invalid was to George merely anuisance. Let us do Caroline justice. She was no doubt actuated bythe most sincere desire to be of service to the King, and she fearedthat if she were to make it known how ill she was, the King mightinsist on her giving up active life altogether. Not only did she takeno pains to get better, but in order to prove that she was perfectlywell, she used to exert herself in a manner which might have beeninjurious to the health of a very strong woman. When at Richmond sheused to walk several miles every morning with the King; and more thanonce, Walpole says, when she had the gout in her foot, she dipped herwhole leg in cold water to be ready to attend him. "The pain, " saysWalpole, "the bulk, and the exercise threw her into such fits ofperspiration as routed the gout; but those exertions hastened thecrisis of her distemper. " History preserves some curious pictures ofthe manner in which the morning prayers were commonly said to QueenCaroline. The Queen was being dressed by her ladies in her bedroom;the door of the bedroom was left partly open, the {115} chaplain readthe prayers in the outer room, and had to kneel, as he read them, beneath a great painting of a naked Venus; and just within thehalf-open bedroom door her Majesty, according to Horace Walpole, "wouldfrequently stand some minutes in her shift, talking to her ladies. "

Robert Walpole was the first to discover the real and the very seriousnature of the Queen's malady. He was often alone with her for thepurpose of arranging as to the course of action which they were toprevail upon the King to believe to be of his own inspiration, andaccordingly to adopt. Shortly after the death of Walpole's wife he wascloseted with the Queen. Her Majesty questioned him closely about thecause of his wife's death. She was evidently under the impression thatLady Walpole had died from the effects of a peculiar kind of rupture, and she put to Walpole a variety of very intimate questions as to thesymptoms and progress of the disease. Walpole had long suspected, asmany others had, that there was something seriously wrong with theQueen. He allowed her to go on with her questions, and he becamesatisfied in his own mind that the Queen herself was suffering from thedisorder about which she was so anxious to be told. 

On August 26, 1737, it was reported over London that the Queen wasdead. The report was unfounded, or at least premature. Caroline hadhad a violent attack, but she rallied and was able to go about again atHampton Court with the King. On Wednesday, November 9, 1737, she wassuddenly stricken down, and this was her death-stroke. She did not dieat once, but lingered and lingered. 

There are few chapters of history more full of strange, sardoniccontrast, and grim, ghastly humor, than those which describe thesedeath-bed scenes. The Queen, undergoing a succession of painfuloperations; now groaning and fainting, now telling the doctors not tomind her foolish cries; now indulging in some chaff with them--"Is notRanby [the surgeon] sorry it isn't his own cross old wife he is cuttingup?"--the King sometimes blubbering, and sometimes telling his dyingwife that her staring eyes {116} looked like those of a calf whosethroat had been cut; the King, who, in his sudden tenderness and grief, would persist in lying outside the bed, and thereby giving the poor, perishing sufferer hardly room to move; the messages of affectedcondolence arriving from the Prince of Wales, with requests to beallowed to see his mother, which requests the mother rejects withbitterness and contempt--all this sets before us a picture such asseldom, happily for the human race, illustrates a death-bed in palace, garret, or prison cell. The King was undoubtedly sincere in his grief, at least for the time. He did love the Queen in a sort of way; and shehad worked upon all his weaknesses and vices and made herself necessaryto him. He did not see how life was to go on for him without her; andas he thought of this he cried like a child whose mother is about toleave him. Over and over again has the story been told of the dyingQueen's appeal to her husband to take a new wife after her death, andthe King's earnest disclaimer of any such purpose; the assurance thathe would have mistresses, and then the Queen's cry of cruel convictionfrom hard experience, "Oh, mon Dieu, cela n'empęche pas!" "I know, "says Lord Hervey, who tells the story, "that this episode will hardlybe credited, but it is literally true. " One does not see why theepisode should hardly be credited, why it should not be taken at onceas historical and true. It is not out of keeping with all otherpassages of the story, it is in the closest harmony and symmetry withthem. The King always made his wife the confidante of his amours andintrigues. He had written to her once, asking her to bring to Courtthe wife of some nobleman or gentleman, and he told her frankly that headmired this lady and wanted to have her near him in order that hemight have an intrigue with her, and he knew that she, his wife, wouldalways be glad to do him a pleasure. Thackeray, in his lecture, oftenspeaks of the King as "Sultan George. " George had, in the matter oflove-making, no other notions than those of a sultan. [Sidenote:1737--George's settled belief] He had no more idea of his wifeobjecting to his mistresses than {117} a sultan would have about thechief sultana's taking offence at the presence of his concubines. Thefact that the Queen lay dying did not put any restraint on any ofGeorge's ways. He could not be kept from talking loudly all the time;he could not be kept from bawling out observations about his wife'scondition which, if they were made only in whispers, must have tendedto alarm and distress an invalid. It is not the frank brutality ofGeorge's words which surprises us; it is rather the sort of cross-lightthey throw on what was after all a tender part of his coarse andselfish nature. Every reader of the history and the memoirs of thatreign must be prepared to understand and to appreciate the absolutesincerity of the King's words; the settled belief that the Queen couldnot possibly have any objection to his taking to himself as manymistresses as he pleased. One is a little surprised at the uncouthsentimentality of the thought that nevertheless it might be adisrespect to her memory if he were to take another wife. What a lightall this lets in upon the man, and the Court, and the time! As regardsindiscriminate amours and connections, poor, stupid, besotted Georgewas simply on a level with the lower animals. Charles the Second, Louis the Fourteenth, Louis the Fifteenth even--these at their worst oftimes were gentlemen. It was only at the Hanoverian Court of Englandthat such an interchange of appeal and reassurance could take place asthat which was murmured and blubbered over the death-bed of QueenCaroline. "Horror, " says one of the great Elizabethan poets, "waits onthe death-beds of princes. " Horror in the truest sense waited on thedeath-bed of that poor, patient, faithful, unscrupulous, unselfishQueen. 

The Queen kept rallying and sinking, and rallying again; and the King'smoods went up and down with each passing change in his wife'scondition. Now she sank, and he buried his face in the bedclothes andcried; now she recovered a little, and he rated at her and made roughjokes at her. At one moment he appeared to be all {118} tenderness toher, at another moment he went on as if the whole illness were a meresham to worry him, and she might get up and be well if she would onlyact like a sensible woman. The Prince of Wales made an attempt to seethe Queen. The King spoke of him as a puppy and a scoundrel; jeered athis impudent, affected airs of duty and affection, declared thatneither he nor the Queen was in a condition to see him act his false, whining, cringing tricks now, and sent him orders to get out of theplace at once. His Majesty continued all through the dying scenes torave against the Prince of Wales, and call him rascal, knave, puppy, and scoundrel. The Queen herself, although she did not use languagequite as strong, yet expressed just as resolute a dislike ordetestation of her son, and an utter disbelief in his sincerity. Shedeclared that she knew he only wanted to see her in order that heshould have the joy of knowing she was dead five minutes sooner than ifhe had to wait in Pall Mall to hear the glad tidings. She told thelisteners that if ever she should consent to see the prince they mightbe sure she had lost her senses. Princess Caroline was in constantattendance on the Queen. So was Lord Hervey. The princess, however, became unwell herself and the Princess Emily sat up with the Queen. But Caroline would not consent to be removed from her mother. A couchwas fitted up for her in a room adjoining the Queen's; and Lord Herveylay on a mattress on the floor at the foot of the princess's bed. TheKing occasionally went to his own rooms, and there was peace for thetime in the dying woman's chamber. Probably the only two that trulyand unselfishly loved the Queen were occupying the couch and themattress in that outer room. 

The Queen talked often to Princess Caroline, and commended to her thecare of her two younger sisters. She talked to her son William, Dukeof Cumberland, then little more than sixteen years old, admonished himto be a support to his father, and to "try to make up for thedisappointment and vexation he must receive from your {119} profligateand worthless brother. " But she also admonished him to attempt nothingagainst his brother, and only to mortify him by showing superior merit. She asked for her keys, and gave them to the King. She took off herfinger a ruby ring which he had given her at her coronation, and put iton his finger, and said to him, almost as patient Grizzel does, "NakedI came to you, and naked I go from you. " All who were present at thisepisode in the dying were in tears, except the Queen herself. Sheseemed absolutely composed; indeed she was anxious that the end shouldcome. She had no belief in the possibility of her recovery, and sheonly wanted to be released now from "the fever called living. " Exceptfor the bitter outbursts of anger and hatred against the Prince ofWales, the poor Queen seems to have borne herself like a true-hearted, resigned, tender wife, kind mother, and Christian woman. 

[Sidenote: 1737--A fatal mistake]

An operation was tried, with the consent of the King. Thereupon arisesa controversy not unlike that which followed an imperial death in verymodern European history. Lord Hervey insists that the surgeons showedutter incapacity, made a shocking and fatal mistake; cut away asmortified flesh that in which there was no mortification whatever. Then Sir Robert Walpole, who had been sent for, comes on the scene. The King ordered him to be brought in from the outer room, and Walpolecame in and tried to drop on his knees to kiss the King's hand. It wasnot easy to do, Sir Robert was so bulky and unwieldy. He found it hardto get down, and harder still to get up again. However, the solemnduty was accomplished somehow, and then Sir Robert was conducted to theQueen's bedside. He dropped some tears, which we may be sure weresincere, even if by no means unselfish. He was in utter dread oflosing all his power over the King if the Queen were to die. The Queenrecommended the King, her children, and the kingdom to his care, andSir Robert seems to have been much pleased with the implied complimentof the recommendation. 

{120}

The moment Walpole got to private speech with Lord Hervey, he at onceexhibited the nature of his grief and alarm. "My lord, " he exclaimed, "if this woman should die, what a scene of confusion will there be!Who can tell into whose hands the King will fall, or who will have themanagement of him?" Lord Hervey tried to reassure him, and told himthat his influence over the King would be stronger than ever. Walpolecould not see it, and they argued the matter over for a long time. Thetalk lasted two or three hours, much to Lord Hervey's dissatisfaction, for it kept him out of bed, and this happened to be the first nightsince the Queen had fallen ill when he had any chance of a good night'srest; and now behold, with the Prime-minister's unseasonable anxietyabout the affairs of State, Lord Hervey's chance is considerablydiminished. Even this little episode has its fit and significant placein the death-bed story. The Prime-minister will insist on talking overthe prospects--his own prospects or those of the nation--with thelord-in-waiting; and the lord-in-waiting is very sleepy, and, havinghad a hope of a night's rest, is only alarmed lest the hope should bedisappointed. No one appears to have said a word as to what would bebetter or worse for the Queen. 

The Queen was strongly under the belief that she would die on aWednesday. She was born on a Wednesday, married on a Wednesday, crowned on a Wednesday, gave birth to her first child on a Wednesday;almost all the important events of her life had befallen her onWednesday, and it seemed in the fitness of things that Wednesday shouldbring with it the close of that life. Wednesday came; and, as LordHervey puts it, "some wise, some pious, and a great many busy, meddling, impertinent people about the Court" began asking each other, and everybody else they met, whether the Queen had any clergyman topray for her and minister to her. Hervey thought all this veryoffensive and absurd, and was of opinion that if the Queen cared aboutpraying, and that sort of thing, she could pray for herself as well asany one else could do it. {121} Hervey, however, kept this free andeasy view of things discreetly to himself. He was shocked at the roughcynicism of Sir Robert Walpole, who cared as little about prayer asHervey or any other man living, but was perfectly willing that all theworld should know his views on the subject. The talk of the peopleabout the Court reached Walpole's ears, and he recommended the PrincessEmily to propose to the King and Queen that the Archbishop ofCanterbury should be sent for. The princess seemed to be a littleafraid to make so audacious a proposal to the King, Defender of theFaith, as the suggestion that a minister of the Church should beallowed to pray by the bedside of the dying Queen. Sir Robertencouraged her in his characteristic way. In the presence of a dozenpeople, Hervey tells, Sir Robert said to the princess: "Pray, madam, let this farce be played; the archbishop will act it very well. Youmay bid him be as short as you will. It will do the Queen no hurt, nomore than any good; and it will satisfy all the wise and good fools whowill call us atheists if we don't pretend to be as great fools as theyare. "

[Sidenote: 1737--Praying with the Queen]

The advice of the statesman was taken. The wise and good fools wereallowed to have it their own way. The archbishop was sent for, and hecame and prayed with the Queen every morning and evening; the Kingalways graciously bolting out of the room the moment the prelate camein. But the wise and good fools were not satisfied with the concessionwhich enlightenment had condescended to make. Up to this time theykept asking, "Has the Queen no one to pray with her?" Now thewhispered question was, "Has the Queen taken--will the Queen take--thesacrament?" Some people hinted that she could not receive thesacrament because she could not make up her mind to be reconciled toher son; others doubted whether she had religious feeling enough toconsent to ask for the sacrament or to receive it. All this time theKing chattered perpetually to Lord Hervey, to the physicians andsurgeons, and to his children, about the virtues {122} and gifts of theQueen. He deplored in advance the lonely, dull life he would have tolead when she was taken from him. He was in frequent bursts of tears. He declared that he had never been tired one moment in her company;that he could never have been happy with any other woman in the world;and he paid her the graceful and delicate compliment of saying that ifshe had not been his wife he would rather have her for a mistress thanany other woman with whom he had ever held such relationship. Yet hehardly ever went into her room, after one of these outpourings oftender affection, without being rough to her and shouting at her andbullying her. When her pains and her wounds made her move uneasily inher bed, he asked her how the devil she could sleep when she wouldnever lie still a moment. He walked heavily about the room as if itwere a chamber in a barrack; he talked incessantly; gave all manner ofdirections; made the unfortunate Queen swallow all manner of foods anddrinks because he took it into his head that they would do her good;and she submitted, poor, patient, pitiable creature, and swallowed andvomited, swallowed again and vomited again, and uttered no complaint. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Would not play second fiddle]

Even in his outbursts of grief the King's absurd personal vanityconstantly came out; for he was always telling his listeners that theQueen was devoted to him because she was wildly enamoured of his personas well as his genius. Then he told long stories about his ownindomitable courage, and went over and over again an account of theheroism he had displayed during a storm at sea. One night the King wasin the outer room with the Princess Emily and Lord Hervey. The puffylittle King wore his nightgown and nightcap, and was sitting in a greatchair with his thick legs on a stool; a heroic figure, decidedly. Theprincess was lying on a couch. Lord Hervey sat by the fire. The Kingstarted the old story of the storm and his own bravery, and gave it tohis companions in all its familiar details. The princess at lastclosed her eyes, and seemed to be fast asleep. The King presently wentinto {123} the Queen's room, and then the princess started up andasked, "Is he gone?" and added, fervently, "How tiresome he is!" LordHervey asked if she had not been asleep; she said no; she had onlyclosed her eyes in order to escape taking part in the conversation, andthat she very much wished she could close her ears as well. "I am sickto death, " the dutiful princess said, "of hearing of his great courageevery day of my life. One thinks now of mamma, and not of him. Whocares for his old storm? I believe, too, it is a great lie, and thathe was as much afraid as I should have been, for all what he says now, "and she added a good many more comments to the same effect. Then theKing came back into the room, and his daughter ceased her comment onhis bravery and his truthfulness. 

"One thinks of mamma, and not of him. " That was exactly what Georgewould not have. He did dearly love the Queen after his own fashion; hewas deeply grieved at the thought of losing her; but he did not chooseto play second fiddle even to the dying. So in all his praises of herand his laments for her he never failed to endeavor to impress on hishearers the idea of his own immense superiority to her and to everybodyelse. There is hardly anything in fiction so touching, so pitiful, sopainful, as this exposition of a naked, brutal, yet not quite selfish, not wholly unloving, egotism. The Queen did not die on the Wednesday. Thursday and Friday passed over in just the same way, with just thesame incidents--with the King alternately blubbering and bullying, withthe panegyrics of the dying woman, and the twenty times told tale of"his old storm. " The Queen was growing weaker and weaker. Those whowatched around her bed wondered how she was able to live so long insuch a condition of utter weakness. On the evening of Sunday, November20th, she asked Dr. Tesier quietly how long it was possible that herstruggle could last. He told her that he was "of opinion that yourMajesty will be soon relieved. " She thanked him for telling her, andsaid in French, "So much the better. " About {124} ten o'clock thatsame night the crisis came. The King was asleep in a bed laid on thefloor at the foot of the Queen's bed. The Princess Emily was lying ona couch in a corner of the room. The Queen began to rattle in herthroat. The nurse gave the alarm, and said the Queen was dying. ThePrincess Caroline was sent for, and Lord Hervey. The princess came intime; Lord Hervey was a moment too late. The Queen asked in a low, faint voice that the window might be opened, saying she felt an asthma. Then she spoke the one word, "Pray. " The Princess Emily began to readsome prayers, but had only got out a few words before the Queenshuddered and died. The Princess Caroline held a looking-glass to theQueen's lips, and, finding the surface undimmed, quietly said, "'Tisover"; and, according to Lord Hervey, "said not one word more, nor asyet shed one tear, on the arrival of a misfortune the dread of whichhad cost her so many. "

"Pray!" That was the last word the Queen ever spoke, All the wisdom ofthe Court statesmen, all the proud, intellectual unbelief, all thecynical contempt for the weaknesses of intellect which allow ignorantpeople to believe their destiny linked with that of some other andhigher life--all that Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, Walpole, would havetaught and sworn oaths for--all was mocked by that one little word, "pray, " which came last from the lips of Queen Caroline. Bring saucyScepticism there; make her laugh at that!

The story would be incomplete if it were not added that while theQueen's body was yet unburied the King came to Hervey and told him, laughing and crying alternately, that he had just seen Horace Walpole, the brother of Robert, and that Walpole was weeping for the Queen withso bad a grace "that in the middle of my tears he forced me to burstinto laughter. " Amid this explosion of tears and laughter the story ofthe Queen's life comes fittingly to an end. 

[Sidenote: 1737--Walpole strengthens his position]

The moment the breath was out of the Queen's body, {125} Walpole setabout a course of action which should strengthen his position asPrime-minister of the King. At first his strong fear was that with thelife of the Queen had passed away his own principal hold upon theconfidence of George. He told Hervey that no one could know how oftenhe had failed utterly by argument and effort of his own to bring theKing to agree to some action which he considered absolutely necessaryfor the good of the State, and how after he had given up the attempt inmere despair the Queen had taken the matter in hand, and so managed theKing that his Majesty at last became persuaded that the whole idea washis own original conception, and he bade her send for Walpole andexplain it to him, and get Walpole to carry it into execution. Herveyendeavored to reassure him by many arguments, and among the rest by onewhich showed how well Hervey understood King George's weaknesses. Hervey said the one thing which was in Walpole's way while the Queenlived was the fear George had of people saying Walpole was the Queen'sminister, not the King's, and suggesting that the King's policy wasruled by his wife. Now that the Queen was gone, George would be gladto prove to the world that Walpole had always been his minister, andthat he retained Walpole's services because he himself valued them, andnot because they had been pressed upon him by a woman. Hervey provedto be right. 

Walpole, however, was for strengthening himself after the old fashion. He was determined to put the King into the hands of some woman whowould play into the hands of the minister. The Duke of Grafton and theDuke of Newcastle tried to persuade Walpole to make use of theinfluence of the Princess Emily. They insisted that she was sure tosucceed to the management of the King, but that if Walpole approachedher at once he might easily make her believe that she owed it all tohim, and that she might thus be induced to stand by him and to assisthim. Walpole would have nothing of the kind. He only believed in theruling power of a mistress now that the {126} Queen was gone. He gavehis opinions in his blunt, characteristic way. He meant, he said, tobring over Madame de Walmoden, and would have nothing to do with "thegirls. " "I was for the wife against the mistress, but I will be forthe mistress against the daughters. " Accordingly he earnestly advisedthe King not to fret any longer with a vain sorrow, but to try todistract himself from grief, and urged him, for this purpose, to sendover at once to Hanover for Madame Walmoden. Walpole's way of talkingto the young princesses would seem absolutely beyond belief if we didnot know that the reports of it are true. He told the princesses thatthey must try to divert their father's melancholy by bringing womenround him; he talked of Madame Walmoden, and repeated to them what hehad said to Lord Hervey, that, though he had been for the Queen againstLady Suffolk and every other woman, yet now he would be for MadameWalmoden, and advised them in the mean time to bring Lady Deloraine, aformer mistress, to her father, adding with brutal indecency that"people must wear old gloves until they get new ones. " He offended anddisgusted the Princesses Caroline and Emily, and they hated him foreverafter. Walpole did not much care. He was not thinking much about "thegirls, " as he called them. He believed he saw his way. 

{127} CHAPTER XXX. 

THE WESLEYAN MOVEMENT. 

[Sidenote: 1738--John Wesley]

In 1738 John Wesley returned to London from Georgia, in British NorthAmerica. He had been absent more than two years. He had gone toGeorgia to propagate the faith to which he was devoted; to convert thenative Indians and to regenerate the British colonists. He did notaccomplish much in either way. The colonists preferred to live theircareless, joyous, often dissolute lives, and the stern spirit of Wesleyhad no charm for them. The Indians refused to be Christianized; onechief giving as his reason for the refusal a melancholy fact which haskept others as well as him from conversion to the true faith. He saidhe did not want to become a Christian because the Christians inSavannah got drunk, told lies, and beat men and women. Wesley had, before leaving England, founded a small religious brotherhood, and onhis return he at once set to work to strengthen and enlarge it. 

John Wesley was in every sense a remarkable man. If any one in themodern world can be said to have had a distinct religious mission, Wesley certainly can be thus described. He was born in 1703 atEpworth, in Lincolnshire. John Wesley came of a family distinguishedfor its Churchmen and ministers. His father was a clergyman of theChurch of England, and rector of the parish of Epworth; his grandfatherwas also a clergyman, but became a Non-conformist minister, and seemsto have been a good deal persecuted for his opinions on religiousdiscipline. John Wesley's father was a sincere and devout man, with acertain literary repute and well read in {128} theology, but of narrowmind and dogmatic, unyielding temper. The right of King William to theThrone was an article of faith with him, and it came on him one daywith the shock of a terrible surprise that his wife did not altogethershare his conviction. He vowed that he would never live with her againunless or until she became of his way of thinking; and he straightwayleft the house, nor did he return to his home and his wife until afterthe death of the King, when the controversy might be considered ashaving closed. The King died so soon, however, that the pair were onlyseparated for about a year; but it may fairly be assumed that, had theKing lived twenty years, Wesley would not have returned to his wifeunless she had signified to him that she had renounced her pestilentscepticism. 

The same stern strength of resolve which Wesley, the father, showed inthis extraordinary course was shown by the son at many a grave publiccrisis in his career. The birth of John Wesley was the result of thereconciliation between the elder Wesley and his wife. There were otherchildren, elder and younger; one of whom, Charles, became in after-lifethe faithful companion and colleague of his brother. John and CharlesWesley were educated at Oxford, and were distinguished there by thefervor of their religious zeal and the austerity of their lives. Therewere other young men there at the time who grew into close affinitywith the Wesleys. There was George Whitefield, the son of a Gloucesterinnkeeper, who at one time was employed as a drawer in his mother'stap-room; and there was James Hervey, afterwards author of the floweryand sentimental "Meditations, " that became for a while so famous--abook which Southey describes "as laudable in purpose and vicious instyle. " These young men, with others, formed a sort of littlereligious association or companionship of their own. They used to holdmeetings for their mutual instruction and improvement in religiousfaith and life. They shunned all amusement and all ordinary socialintercourse. They were ridiculed {129} and laughed at, and variousnicknames were bestowed on them. One of these nicknames they acceptedand adopted; as the Flemish _Gueux_ had done, and many anotherreligious sect and political party as well. Those who chose to laughat them saw especial absurdity in their formal and methodical way ofmanaging their spiritual exercises and their daily lives. The jestersdubbed them Methodists; Wesley and his friends welcomed the title; andthe fame of the Methodists now folds in the orb of the earth. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Torpor of the English Church]

Wesley and his friends had in the beginning, and for long years after, no idea whatever of leaving the fold of the English Church. They hadas little thought of that kind as in a later generation had the men whomade the Free Church of Scotland. Probably their ideas were very vaguein their earlier years. They were young men tremendously in earnest;they were aflame in spirit and conscience with religious zeal; and theysaw that the Church of England was not doing the work that might havebeen and ought to have been expected of her. She had ceased utterly tobe a missionary Church. She troubled herself in nowise about spreadingthe glad tidings of salvation among the heathen. At home she wasabsolutely out of touch with the great bulk of the people. The poorand the ignorant were left quietly to their own resources. Theclergymen of the Church of England were not indeed by any means a bodyof men wanting in personal morality, or even in religious feeling, butthey had as little or no religious activity because they had little orno religious zeal. They performed perfunctorily their perfunctoryduties; and that, as a rule, was all they did. 

Atterbury, Burnet, Swift, all manner of writers, who were themselvesministering in the Church of England, unite in bearing testimony to thetorpid condition into which the Church had fallen. Decorum seemed tobe the highest reach of the spiritual lives of most of the clergy. Onefinds curious confirmation of the statements {130} made publicly by menlike Atterbury and Burnet in some of the appeals privately made bySwift to his powerful friends for the promotion of poor and deservingclergymen whose poverty and merit had been brought under his notice. The recommendation generally begins and ends in the fact that eachparticular man had led a decent, respectable life; that he was strivingto bring up honestly a large family; and that his living or curacy wasnot enough to maintain him in comfort. We hardly ever hear of the workwhich the good man had been doing among the poor, the ignorant, and thesinful. Swift has said many hard and even terrible things aboutbishops and deans, and vicars and curates. But these stern accusationsdo not form anything like as formidable a testimony against thecondition into which the Church had fallen as will be found in theexceptional praise which he gives to those whom he specially desires torecommend for promotion; and in the fact that the highest reach of thatpraise comes to nothing more than the assurance that the man had led adecent life, had a large family, and was very poor. Such arecommendation as that would not have counted for much with JohnWesley. He would have wanted to know what work the clergyman had doneoutside his own domestic life; what ignorance had he enlightened, whatsinners had he brought to repentance. 

[Sidenote: 1738--An "archbishop of the slums"]

Things were still worse in the Established Church of Ireland. Hardly apastor of that Church could speak three words of the language of theIrish people. Lord Stanhope, in his "History of England from the Peaceof Utrecht, " writes as if the Irish clergymen--the clergymen, that is, of the Established Church of Ireland--might have accomplished wondersin the way of converting the Irish peasantry to Protestantism if theyonly could have preached and controverted in the Irish language. Weare convinced that they could have done nothing of the kind. The IrishCeltic population is in its very nature a Catholic population. Not allthe preaching since Adam {131} could have made them other than that. Still it struck John Wesley very painfully later on that the effort wasnever made, and that the men who could not talk to the Irish people intheir own tongue, and who did not take the trouble to learn thelanguage, were not in a promising condition for the conversion ofsouls. The desire of Wesley and his brother, and Whitefield and therest, seems only at first to have been an awakening of the Church inthese islands to a sense of her duty. They do not appear to have hadany very far-reaching hopes or plans. They saw that the work was leftundone, and they labored to bring about a spirit which should lead mento the doing of it. At first they only held their little meetings oneach succeeding Sunday; but they found themselves warming to the task, and they began to meet and confer very often. Their one thought washow to get at the people; how to get at the lowly, the ignorant, andthe poor. Soon they began to see that the lowly, the ignorant, and thepoor would not come to the Church, and that, therefore, the Church mustgo out to them. In a day much nearer to our own a prelate of theEstablished Church indulged in a very unlucky and unworthy sneer at theexpense of the first Roman Catholic Archbishop of Westminster. Hecalled him an "Archbishop of the slums. " The retort was easy andconclusive. It was an admission. "Exactly; that is just what I am. Iam an archbishop of the slums; that is my business; that is what Idesire to be. My ministry is among the hovels and the garrets and theslums; yours, I admit, is something very different. "

This illustrates to the life the central idea which was forming itselfgradually and slowly into shape in the mind of John Wesley and in theminds of his associates. They saw that archbishops of the slums werethe very prelates whom England needed. Their souls revolted againstthe apparently accepted idea that the duties of a priest of the Churchof England were fulfilled by the preaching of a chill, formal, writtensermon once a week, and the attendance {132} on Court ceremonials, andthe dining at the houses of those who would then have been called "thegreat. " An institution which could do no more and strove to do no morethan the Church of England was then doing did not seem to them todeserve the name of a Church. It was simply a branch of the CivilService of the State. But Wesley and his brother, and Whitefield andthe rest, fully believed at first that they could do something toquicken the Church into a real, a beneficent, and a religions activity. Most of them had for a long time a positive horror of open-airpreaching and of the co-operation of lay preachers. Most of them for along time clung to all the traditional forms and even formulas amidwhich they had grown up. What Wesley and the others did not see atfirst, or for long after, was that the Church of England was not thenequal to the work which ought to have been hers. A great change wascoming over the communities and the population of England. Smallhamlets were turning into large towns. Great new manufacturingindustries were creating new classes of working-men. Coal-mines weregathering together vast encampments of people where a little timebefore there had been idle heath or lonely hill-side. The Church ofEngland, with her then hide-bound constitution and her traditionalways, was not equal to the new burdens which she was supposed toundertake. She suffered also from that lack of competition which ishurtful to so many institutions. The Church of Rome had beensuppressed for the time in this country, and the most urgent means hadbeen employed to keep the Dissenters down; therefore the Church ofEngland had grown contented, sleek, inert, and was no longer equal toits work. This fact began after a while to impress itself more andmore on the minds of the little band who worked with John Wesley. Theyresisted the idea to the very last; they hoped and believed and dreamedthat they might still be part of the Church of England. They foundthemselves drawn outside the Church, and they found, too, that whenonce they had gone even a very little way out of the {133} fold, thegates were rudely closed against them, and they might not return. Itwas not that Wesley and his associates left the Church of England. TheChurch would not have them because they would persist in doing the workto which she would not even attempt to put a hand. 

[Sidenote: 1738--John Wesley's Charity]

John Wesley had been profoundly impressed by William Law's pious andmystical book, "A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, " which waspublished in 1729. Law lived in London, and Wesley, who desired to bein frequent intercourse with him, used to walk to and from themetropolis for the purpose. The money he thus saved he gave to thepoor. He wore his hair at one time very long in order to save theexpense of cutting and dressing it, and thus have more money to giveaway in charity. He and his little band of associates, whose numbersswelled at one time up to twenty-five, but afterwards dropped down tofive, imposed on themselves rules of discipline almost as harsh asthose of a monastery of the Trappist order. They fasted everyWednesday and Friday, and they made it a duty to visit the prisons andhospitals. Wesley's father, who was growing old, was very anxious thathis son should succeed him in the rectory of Epworth. John would nothear of it. In vain his father pressed and prayed; the son could notsee his way in that direction. John Wesley has been blamed by some ofhis biographers for not accepting the task which his father desired andthought right to impose on him. But no one on earth could understandJohn Wesley's mission but John Wesley himself. When it was pressedupon him that in the living of Epworth he would have the charge of twothousand souls he said, "I see not how any man can take care of ahundred. " It was pointed out to him that his little band of companionshad been growing smaller and smaller; he only answered that he waspurifying a fountain and not a stream. The illustration was effectiveand happy. 

The truth is that the tremendous energies of John {134} Wesley couldnot possibly find employment within the narrow field of work adopted bythe Established Church of his day. Wesley was a fighter; he had to goout into the broad living world and do battle there. He hadoriginality as well as energy; he must do his work his own way; hecould not be a minister of routine. He soon found it borne in upon himthat he must speak to his fellow-man wherever he could find him. For along time he held back from the thought of open-air preaching, but nowhe saw that it must be done. There was a period of his life, he says, when he would have thought the saving of a soul "a sin almost if it hadnot been done in a church. " But from the first moment when he began topreach to crowds in the open air he must have felt that he had foundhis work at last. His friend and colleague Whitefield, who had more ofthe genius of an orator than Wesley, had preceded him in this path. One is a little surprised that such men as Wesley and Whitefield shouldever have found any difficulty about preaching to a crowd in the openair. The Hill of Mars at Athens listened to an open-air sermon from anapostle, and Whitefield himself observed at a later date that the"Sermon on the Mount is a pretty remarkable precedent of fieldpreaching. "

[Sidenote: 1738--Wesley's superstition]

Meanwhile, however, Wesley's father died, and Wesley received aninvitation to go out to Georgia with General Oglethorpe, the governorof that settlement, to preach to the Indians and the colonists. Hesailed for the new colony on October 14, 1735. He was accompanied byhis brother Charles and two other missionaries, and on board the vesselwas a small band of men from "the meek Moravian Missions. " TheMoravian sect was then in its earliest working order. It had beenfounded--or perhaps it would be more fitting to say restored--not manyyears before, by the enthusiastic and devoted Count Von Zinzendorf. Wesley was greatly attracted by the ways and the spiritual life of theMoravians. It is worthy of note that when Count Zinzendorf began theformation or {135} restoration of Moravianism he had as little idea ofdeparting from the fold of the Confession of Augsburg as Wesley had ofleaving the Church of England. John Wesley did not, as we have said, accomplish much among the colonists and the Indians. Perhaps his wayswere too dogmatic and dictatorial for the colonists. He departedaltogether from the Church discipline in some of his religiousexercises, while he clung to it pertinaciously in others. He offendedlocal magnates by preaching at them from the pulpit, giving them prettyfreely a piece of his mind as to their conduct and ways of life, and, indeed, turning them to public ridicule with rough and raspingsarcasms. With the Indians he could not do much, if only for the factthat he had to speak to them through an interpreter. The tongue, saysJean Paul Richter, is eloquent only in its own language, and the heartin its own religion. It certainly was not from lack of zeal and energythat Wesley failed to accomplish much among the Indians. He flunghimself into the work with all his indomitable spirit and disregard fortrouble and pain. One of his biographers tells us that "he exposedhimself with the utmost indifference to every change of season andinclemency of weather; snow and hail, storm and tempest, had no effecton his iron body. He frequently lay down on the ground and slept allnight with his hair frozen to the earth; he would swim over rivers withhis clothes on and travel till they were dry, and all this without anyapparent injury to his health. " It is no wonder that Wesley soon beganto regard himself as a man specially protected by divine power. He wasdeeply, romantically superstitious. He commonly guided his course byopening a page of the Bible and reading the first passage that met hiseye. He saw visions; he believed in omens. He tells us himself of theinstantaneous way in which some of his prayers for rescue from dangerwere answered from above. Those who believe that the work Wesley hadto do was really great and beneficent work will hardly feel any regretthat such a man should have allowed himself to be governed {136} bysuch ideas. It was necessary to the tasks he had to execute that heshould believe himself to bear a charmed life. 

Wesley was very near getting married in Georgia. A clever and prettyyoung woman in Savannah set herself at him. She consulted him abouther spiritual salvation, she dressed always in white because sheunderstood that he liked such simplicity of color, she nursed him whenhe was ill. The governor of the colony favored the young lady'sintentions, which were indeed strictly honorable, being most distinctlymatrimonial. At one time it seemed very likely that the marriage wouldtake place, but Wesley's heart was evidently not in the affair. Someof his colleagues told him plainly enough that they believed the younglady to be merely playing a game, that she put on affection anddevotion only that she might put on a wedding-dress. Wesley consultedsome of the elders of the Moravian Church, and promised to abide bytheir decision. Their advice was that he should go no further with theyoung woman, and Wesley kept his word and refused to see her any more. She married, soon after, the chief magistrate of the colony, and beforelong we find Wesley publicly reprehending her for "something in herbehavior of which he disapproved, " and threatening even to exclude herfrom the communion of the Church until she should have signified hersincere repentance. Her family took legal proceedings against him. Wesley did not care; he was about to return to England, and he wascalled on to give bail for his reappearance in the colony. Hecontemptuously refused to do anything of the kind, and promptly sailedfrom Savannah. 

This little episode of the Georgian girl is characteristic of the man. He did not care about marrying her, but it did not seem to him a matterof much importance either way, and he doubtless would have married herbut that he thought it well to seek the advice of his Moravian friends, and bound himself to abide by their decision. That decision oncegiven, he had no further wavering or {137} doubt, but the course he hadtaken and the manner in which he had completely thrown over the womandid not prevent him in the least from visiting her with a public rebukewhen he saw something in her conduct of which he disapproved. He sawno reason why, because he refused to be her lover, he should fail inhis duty as her minister. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Wesley's unhappy marriage]

We may anticipate a little as to Wesley's personal history. Later inhis life he married. He was not happy in his marriage. He took forhis wife a widow who plagued him by her narrow-mindedness, herbitterness, and her jealousy. Wesley's care and kindness of the womenwho came under his ministrations set his wife wild with suspicion andanger. She could not believe that a man could be kind to a woman, evenas a pastor, without having evil purpose in his heart. She had thetemper of a virago; she stormed against her husband, she threatenedhim, she sometimes rushed at him and tore his hair; she repeatedly lefthis house, but was prevailed upon by him to return. At last after afierce quarrel she flung out of the house, vowing that she would nevercome back. Wesley's comment, which he expressed in Latin, was sternand characteristic: "I have not left her, I have not put her away, Iwill never recall her. " He kept his word. 

Wesley started on his mission to preach to the people and to pray withthem. Whitefield and Charles Wesley did the same. Charles Wesley wasthe hymn writer, the sweet singer, of the movement. The meetings beganto grow larger, more enthusiastic, more impassioned, every day. JohnWesley brought to his work "a frame of adamant" as well as "a soul offire. " No danger frighted him, and no labor tired. Rain, hail, snow, storm, were matters of indifference to him when he had any work to do. One reads the account of the toil he could cheerfully bear, theprivations he could recklessly undergo, the physical obstacles he couldsurmount, with what would be a feeling of incredulity were it possibleto doubt the unquestionable evidence of a whole cloud of {138}heterogeneous witnesses. Not Mark Antony, not Charles the Twelfth, notNapoleon, ever went through such physical suffering for the love ofwar, or for the conqueror's ambition, as Wesley was accustomed toundergo for the sake of preaching at the right time and in the rightplace to some crowd of ignorant and obscure men, the conversion of whomcould bring him neither fame nor fortune. 

All the phenomena with which we have been familiar in modern times ofwhat are called "revivalist" meetings were common among thecongregations to whom Wesley preached. Women especially were affectedin this way. They raved, shrieked, struggled, flung themselves on theground, fainted, cried out that they were possessed by evil spirits. Wesley rather encouraged these manifestations, and indeed quitebelieved in their genuineness. No doubt for the most part they weregenuine: that is, they were the birth of hysterical, highly strungnatures, stimulated into something like epilepsy or temporary insanityby the unbearable oppression of a wholly novel excitement. No suchevidences of emotion were ever given in the parish church where theworthy clergyman read his duly prepared or perhaps thoughtfullypurchased sermon. Sometimes a new form of hysteria possessed some ofWesley's congregations, and irrepressible peals of laughter broke fromsome of the brethren and sisters, who declared that they were forced toit by Satan. Wesley quite accepted this explanation, and so did mostof his companions. Two ladies, however, refused to believe, andinsisted that "any one might help laughing if she would. " But verysoon after these two sceptics were seized with the very same sort ofirrepressible laughter. They continued for two days laughing almostwithout cessation, "a spectacle to all, " as Wesley tells, "and werethen upon prayer made for them delivered in a moment. " It is almostneedless now to say that bursts of irrepressible laughter are among thecommonest forms of hysterical excitement. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Whitefield's oratory]

The cooler common-sense of Charles Wesley, however, {139} saw thesemanifestations with different eyes. He felt sure that there wassometimes a good deal of affectation in them, and he publiclyremonstrated with some women who, as it appeared to him, wereneedlessly making themselves ridiculous. He was probably right inthese instances: the instinct of imitation is so strong among men andwomen that every genuine outburst of maniacal excitement is sure to befollowed by some purely mimetic efforts of a similar demonstration. The novelty of the whole movement was enough to account for the genuineand the sham hysterics. It was an entirely new experience then forEnglish men and women of the humblest class, and of that generation, tobe addressed in great open-air masses by renowned and powerfulpreachers. Whitefield's first great effort at field-preaching was madefor the benefit of the colliers at Kingswood, near Bristol. Beforemany weeks had gone by, he could gather round him some twenty thousandof these men. Whitefield had a marvellous fervor and force of oratory. His voice, his gestures, his sudden and startling appeals, his solemnpauses, the dramatic and even theatric energy which he threw into hisattitudes and his action, his flights of lofty and sustaineddeclamation, contrasting with sentences of homely colloquialism, wereoverwhelming in their effect on such an audience. "The firstdiscovery, " he says himself, "of their being affected was to see thewhite gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down theircheeks, black as they came out of the coal-pits. " It was not onlyminers and other illiterate men whom Whitefield impressed by the fervorand passion of his eloquence. Hume, Benjamin Franklin, Horace Walpole, and other men as well qualified to judge, and as little likely to fallunder the spell of religions or sentimental enthusiasm, have bornewilling testimony to the irresistible power of a sermon from Whitefield. 

Wesley and Whitefield did not remain long in spiritual companionship. They could not agree as to the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination. Wesley was opposed to {140} the doctrine; Whitefield willing to acceptit. They discussed and discussed the question, but without drawing anynearer together. Indeed, as might naturally have been expected, theyonly fell more widely asunder, and after a while the difference ofopinion grew to something like a personal estrangement. Wesley hadalready broken away from spiritual communion with some of his oldfriends, the Moravians. Probably he felt all the stronger for his ownwork now that he stood as a leader all but alone. He walked his ownwild road; Whitefield took a path for himself. Wesley soon found thathe was gaining more followers than he had lost. He had to adopt thepractice of employing lay preachers; it was a matter of necessity tohis task. He could not induce many clergymen to work under hisguidance and after his fashion. The movement was spreading all overthe country. Wesley became the centre and light of his wing of thecampaign. The machinery of his organization was simple and strong. Aconference was called together every year, which was composed ofpreachers selected by Wesley. These formed his cabinet or centralboard, and lent their authority to his decisions. 

This was the germ of the great Wesleyan organization, which has sincebecome so powerful, and has spread itself so widely over Great Britainand the American States. The preachers were sent by Wesley from onepart of the country to another, just as he thought best; and it neveroccurred to any missionary to refuse, remonstrate, or even delay. Thesystem was admirable; the discipline was perfect. Wesley was ascompletely in command of his body of missionaries as the general of theorder of Jesuits is of those over whom he is called to exercisecontrol. The humblest of the Wesleyan preachers caught something, caught indeed very much, of the energy, the courage, the devotion, theself-sacrifice, of their great leader. No doubt there were many errorsand offences here and there. Good taste, sobriety of judgment, prudence, common-sense, were now and then offended. Most of thepreachers were {141} ignorant men, who had nothing but an untaughtenthusiasm and a rude, uncouth eloquence to carry them on. They had topreach to multitudes very often more ignorant and uncouth thanthemselves. It would be absolutely impossible under such conditionsthat there should not sometimes be offence, and, as Hamlet says, "muchoffence too. " But there was no greater departure from the lines ofpropriety and good taste than any one who took a reasonable view of thewhole work and its workers must have expected to find. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Opposition to Wesleyanism]

Of course a strong opposition to the movement showed itself in manyparts of the country. The Wesleyans were denounced; they wereridiculed; they were caricatured; they were threatened; they were setupon by ruffians; they were stoned by mobs. In some places it was saidthat the local magistrates actually connived with the attempt to drivethem out by force. Projects are actually declared to have been formedfor their complete extermination. Such projects, however, do notsucceed. No amount of violence has ever yet exterminated religiouszeal and impassioned, even let it be fanatical, enthusiasm. JohnWesley went his way undismayed. He even appears to have positivelyenjoyed the excitement and the danger. The persecution began after awhile to languish in its efforts, and the Wesleyans kept growing moreand more numerous and strong. But the movement in growing grew awayfrom the Church of England. Wesley had been drawn out of his originalintent step after step. He could not help himself, once his movementhad been started. He had had to take to field preaching, for the goodreason that he could not otherwise reach the people whom it was hisheart's warmest longing to reach. He had to take to employing laypreachers, because without them he could not have got his preachingdone. At last he began to ordain ministers, and even, it is said, bishops, for the missions in America. He had, in fact, broken awayaltogether from the discipline of the Church of England, although hepersisted to his dying day that he never had any design of {142}separating from the Church, "and had no such design now. " Near to theclose of his long life he declared, "I live and die a member of theChurch of England, and none who regard my judgment or advice will everseparate from it. " No one can doubt that Wesley spoke in fullsincerity. When he stepped outside the pale of Church practice it wasonly to do what he believed ought to have been the work of the Churchitself, but which the Church did not then care to attempt, and which, as he felt convinced, could not afford to wait for the indefinite timewhen the Church might have the spirit, the energy, and the resourcesneeded for such an undertaking. 

Wesley was a thorough despot; as much of a despot as Peter the Great orNapoleon. He took no trouble to disguise his despotic purpose. He didnot shelter himself, as Napoleon once wished to do, under the draperiesof a constitutional king. Wesley was satisfied in his own mind that heknew better than any other man how to guide his movements and governhis followers, and he told people that he knew it, and actedaccordingly. The members of his conference, or what we have called hiscabinet, were only like Clive's council of war; Wesley listened totheir advice and their arguments, but acted according to his ownjudgment all the same. Late in his career it was charged against himthat he was trying to turn himself into a sort of Methodist pope. Heasked for some explanation of this, and was told that he had investedhimself with arbitrary power. His answer was simple andstraightforward. "If by arbitrary power you mean a power which Iexercise singly, without any colleagues therein, this is certainlytrue; but I see no hurt in it. " All the actions of his life show thiscomplete faith in himself where the business of his mission wasconcerned. He was dogmatic, masterful, overbearing, very often farfrom amiable, sometimes all but unendurable, to those around him. Butif he had not had these peculiar qualities or defects he would not havebeen the man that he was; he would not have been able to bear thecharge of such a task at such a {143} time. It is probable thatHannibal did not cut through the Alps with vinegar; it is certain thathe could not have pierced his way with honey. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Religion out of fashion]

Nothing can better show than the rise and progress of the greatMethodist movement how vast is the difference between a people and whatis commonly called society. In society everywhere throughout England, in the great provincial cities as well as in the capital, religionseemed to have completely gone out of fashion. The Court cared nothingabout it. The King had no real belief in his heart; he had as littlefaith in Divine guidance as he had in the honor of man or the chastityof woman. The Queen's devotional exercises were nothing but a mereperformance carried on sometimes through a half-opened door, theattendant minister on one side of the door and the gossiping, chattering ladies on the other. The leading statesmen of the age wereavowedly indifferent or professedly unbelieving. Bolingbroke was apreacher of unbelief. Walpole never seems to have cared to turn histhoughts for one moment to anything higher than his own politicalcareer, the upholding of his friends if they stood fast by him, and thedownfall of his enemies. Chesterfield was not exactly the sort of manto be stirred into spiritual life. Morals were getting out of fashionas much as religion. Society had all the grossness without much of thewit which belonged to the days of the Restoration. Yet the mere factthat the Wesleyan movement made such sudden way among the poor and thelowly shows beyond question that the heart of the English people hadnot been corrupted. Conscience was asleep, but it was not dead. Thefirst words of Wesley seemed to quicken it into a new life. 

We have somewhat anticipated the actual course of events in order toshow at once what the Wesleyan movement came to. During the lifetimeof its founder it had grown into a great national and internationalinstitution. Since his time it has been spreading and growing all overthe world where Christianity grows. It is the severest in {144} itsdiscipline of all the Protestant churches, and yet it exercises a charmeven over gentle and tender natures, and makes them its willingservants, while it teaches the wilder and fiercer spirits to bend theirnatures and tame their wild passions down. [Sidenote: 1738--TheWesleyan work] In the United States of America Wesleyanism is now oneof the most popular and powerful of all the denominations ofChristianity. It has since been divided up into many sections, bothhere and there, on questions of discipline, and even on questions ofbelief; but in its leading characteristics it has been faithful to themain purpose of its founder. Its success did not consist mainly inwhat it accomplished for its own people; it achieved a great work alsoby the impulse it gave to the Church of England. That Church for awhile seemed to be filled with a reviving spiritual and ministerialactivity. It appeared to take shame to itself that it had remained solong apathetic and perfunctory, and it flung itself into competitionwith the younger and more energetic mission. The English Church didnot indeed retain this mood of ardor and of eagerness very long. Aftera time it relapsed into comparative inactivity; and a new and verydifferent movement was needed at a period much nearer to our own tomake it once again a ministering power to the people--to the poor. Butfor the time the revival of the Church was genuine and was beneficent. With the quickened religious vitality of the Wesleyan movement camealso a quickened philanthropic spirit; a zeal for the instruction, thepurification, and the better life of men and women. The commoninstinct of humanity always is to strive for higher and better ways ofliving, if only once the word of guidance is given and the soul of truemanhood is roused to the work. Indeed, there is not much about thisperiod of English history concerning which the modern Englishman canfeel really proud except that great religious revival which began withthe thoughts and the teachings of John Wesley. One turns in relieffrom the partisan struggles in Parliament and out of it, from theintrigues and counter-intrigues of selfish and perfidious statesmen, and {145} the alcove conspiracies of worthless women, to Wesley and hisreligious visions, to Whitefield and his colliers, to Charles Wesleyand his sweet devotional hymns. Many of us are unable to have anymanner of sympathy with the precise doctrines and the forms of faithwhich Wesley taught. But the man must have no sympathy with faith orreligious feeling of any kind who does not recognize the unspeakablevalue of that great reform which Wesley and Whitefield introduced tothe English people. They taught moral doctrines which we all accept incommon, but they did not teach them after the cold and barren way ofthe plodding, mechanical instructor. They thundered them into theopening ears of thousands who had never been roused to moral sentimentbefore. They inspired the souls of poor and commonplace creatures withall the zealot's fire and all the martyr's endurance. They broughttears to penitent eyes which had never been moistened before by any butthe selfish sense of personal pain or grief. They pierced through thedull, vulgar, contaminated hideousness of low and vicious life, andsent streaming in upon it the light of a higher world and a better law. Every new Wesleyan became a missionary of Wesleyanism. The sonconverted the father, the daughter won over the heart of the mother. There was much that was hard, much that was fierce, in the doctrine andthe discipline of Methodism, but that time was not one in which gentlerteachings could much prevail. Men and women had to be startled into asense of the need of their spiritual regeneration. Wesley and thecomrades who worked with him in the beginning, and with some of whom, like Whitefield, he ceased after a while to work, were just the menneeded to call aloud to the people and make sure that their voices mustbe heard. They had to talk in a shout if they were to talk to anypurpose. There was much in their style of eloquence against which apure and cultured criticism would naturally protest. But they did notspeak for the pure and cultured criticism. They came to call ignorantsinners to repentance. They have the one great abiding {146} merit, they have the one enduring fame--that they saw their real business inlife; that they kept to it through whatever disadvantage, pain, anddanger; and that they accomplished what they had gone out to do. Theirmonument lives to-day in the living history of England and of America. 

{147}

CHAPTER XXXI. 

ENGLAND'S HONOR AND JENKINS'S EAR. 

[Sidenote: 1738--The passion of war]

"Madam, there are fifty thousand men slain this year in Europe, and notone Englishman among them. " This was the proud boast which, as hasbeen already mentioned, Walpole was able to make to Queen Caroline notvery long before her death, when she was trying to stir him up to amore agressive policy in the affairs of the Continent. Walpole's wordssound almost like an anticipation of Prince Bismarck's famousdeclaration that the Eastern Question was not worth to Germany the lifeof a single Pomeranian grenadier. But Prince Bismarck was morefortunate than Walpole in his policy of peace. He had secured aposition of advantage for himself in maintaining that policy whichWalpole never had. Prince Bismarck had twice over made it clear to allthe world that he could conduct to the most complete success a policyof uncompromising war. Walpole had all the difficulty in keeping tohis policy of peace which a statesman always has who is suspected, rightly or wrongly, of a willingness to purchase peace at almost anyprice. It is melancholy to have to make the statement, but thestatement is nevertheless true, that in the England of Walpole's day, and in the England of our own day as well, the statesman who is knownto love peace is sure to have it shrieked at him in some crisis that hedoes not love the honor of his country. A periodical outbreak of thecraving or lust for war seems to be one of the passions and one of theafflictions of almost every great commonwealth in Europe. A wise andjust policy may have secured a peace that has lasted for years; but themere fact that peace has lasted for years {148} seems to manyunthinking people reason enough why the country should be favored witha taste of war. We are constantly declaring that England is not amilitary nation, and yet no statesman is ever so popular for the hourin England as the statesman who fires the people with the passion ofwar. Many a minister, weak and unpopular in his domestic policy, hassuddenly made himself the hero and the darling of the moment bydeclaring that some foreign state has insulted England, and that thetime has come when the sword must be drawn to defend the nation'shonor. Then "away to heaven, respective lenity" indeed! The appealacts like a charm to call out the passion and to silence the reason ofvast masses of the population in all ranks and conditions. Even amongthe working-classes and the poor--who, one might imagine, have all tolose and nothing to gain by war--it is by no means certain that the warfever will not flame for the hour. There are seasons when, as Burkehas said, "even the humblest of us are degraded into the vices andfollies of kings. "

[Sidenote: 1738--The patriots' war-cry]

War had no fascination for Walpole. He saw it only in its desolation, its cruelty, its folly, and its cost. At the time which we have nowreached he looked with clear gaze over the European continent, and hesaw nothing in the action of foreign Powers which concerned the honorand the interest of England enough to make it necessary for her to drawthe sword. But, unfortunately for his country and for his fame, Walpole was not a statesman of firm and lofty principle. He was alwayswilling to come to terms. In the domestic affairs of England heallowed grievances to exist which he had again and again condemned anddeplored, and which every one knew he was sincerely desirous to remove;he allowed them to exist because it might have been a source ofannoyance to the King if the minister had troubled him about such asubject. He acted on this policy with regard to the grievances ofwhich the Dissenters complained, and, as he always admitted, veryjustly complained. Much as he detested a policy of war, he was not theminister who would {149} stand by a policy of peace at the risk oflosing his popularity and his power. Much as he loved peace, he lovedhis place as Prime Minister still more. It is probable that hisenemies gave him credit for greater fixity of purpose in regard to hispeace policy than he really possessed. They believed, perhaps, thatthey had only to get up a good, popular war-cry in England, and thatWalpole would have to go out of office. They told themselves that hewould not make war. On this faith they based their schemes and foundedtheir hopes. It would have been well for Walpole and for England iftheir belief had been justified by events. 

The Patriots raised their war-cry. The honor of England had beeninsulted. Her claims had been rejected with insolent scorn. Her flaghad been trampled on; her seamen had been imprisoned, mutilated, tortured; and all this by whom? By whom, indeed, but the old andimplacable enemy of England, the Power which had sent the Armada toinvade England's shores and to set up the Inquisition among the Englishpeople--by Spain, of course, by Spain! In Spanish dungeons braveEnglishmen were wearing out their lives. In mid-ocean English shipswere stopped and searched by arrogant officers of the King of Spain. Why did Spain venture on such acts? Because, the Patriots cried out, Spain believed that England's day of strength had gone, and thatEngland could now be insulted with impunity. What wonder, they asked, in patriotic passion, if Spain or any other foreign state shouldbelieve such things? Was there not a Minister now at the head ofaffairs in England, now grasping all the various powers of the state inhis own hands, who was notoriously willing to put up with any insult, to subject his country to any degradation, rather than venture on evena remonstrance that might lead to war? Let the flag of England be torndown and trailed in the dust--what then? What cared the Minister whoseonly fear was, not of dishonor, but of danger. 

This was the fiery stuff which the Patriots kept {150} flooding thecountry with; which they poured out in speeches and pamphlets, andpasquinades and lampoons. Some of them probably came in the end tobelieve it all themselves. Walpole was assailed every hour--he washeld up to public hatred and scorn as if he had betrayed his country. Bolingbroke from his exile contributed his share to the literature ofblood, and soon came over from his exile to take a larger share in it. The _Craftsman_ ran over with furious diatribes against the Minister ofPeace. Caricatures of all kinds represented Walpole abasing himselfbefore Spain and entering into secret engagements with her, to theprejudice and detriment of England. Ballads were hawked and sungthrough the streets which described Walpole as acknowledging to theSpanish Don that he hated the English merchants and traders just asmuch as the Don did, and that he was heartily glad when Spain appliedher rod to them. The country became roused to the wildest passion; thePatriots were carrying it all their own way. 

What was it all about? What was Spain doing? What ought England to do?

[Sidenote: 1738--The treaties with Spain]

The whole excitement arose out of certain long-standing trade disputesbetween England and Spain in the New World. These disputes had beenreferred to in the Treaty of Utrecht, which was supposed to havesettled them in 1713; and again in the Treaty of Seville, which wasbelieved to have finally settled them in 1729. England had recognizedthe right of Spain to regulate the trade with Spanish colonies. Spainagreed that England should have the privilege of supplying the Spanishcolonies with slaves. This noble privilege English traders exercisedto the full. It is not very gratifying to have to recollect that twoof England's great disputes with Spain were about England's claim to anunlimited right to sell slaves to the Spanish colonies. To England, orat least to the English South Sea Company, was also conceded thepermission to send one merchant vessel each year to the South Seas withas much English goods to sell to the Spanish colonies as a {151} shipof 500 tons could carry. As everybody might have expected, theprovisions of the treaty were constantly broken through. The Englishtraders were very eager to sell their goods; the Spanish colonists werevery glad to get them to buy. All other commerce than that in slavesand the one annual shipload of English goods was strictly prohibited bySpain. The whole arrangement now seems in the highest degreeartificial and absurd; but it was not an uncommon sort of internationalarrangement then. As was to be expected, the English traders set goinga huge illicit trade in the South Seas. This was done partly by theold familiar smuggling process, and partly, too, by keeping littlefleets of smaller vessels swarming off the coasts and reloading the onelegitimate vessel as often as her contents were sent into a port. Thisingenious device was said to have been detected by the Spanishauthorities in various places. The Spaniards retaliated by stoppingand searching English vessels cruising anywhere near the coast of aSpanish colony, and by arresting and imprisoning the officers andsailors of English merchantmen. The Spaniards asserted, and were ablein many instances to make their assertions good, that whole squadronsof English trading vessels sometimes entered the Spanish ports underpretence of being driven there by stress of weather, or by the need ofrefitting and refreshing; and that, once in the port, they managed toget their cargoes safely ashore. Sometimes, too, it was said, thevessels lay off the shore without going into the harbor; and thensmugglers came off in their long, low, swift boats, and received theEnglish goods and carried them into the port. The fact undoubtedly wasthat the English merchants were driving a roaring trade with theSpanish colonies; just as the Spanish authorities might very well haveknown that they would be certain to do. Where one set of men areanxious to sell, and another set are just as anxious to buy, it needsvery rigorous coastguard watching to prevent the goods being sent inand the money taken away. 

This fact, however, does not say anything against the {152} right ofSpain to enforce, if she could, the conditions of the treaties. Onthat point Spain was only asserting her indisputable right. But wouldit be reasonable to expect that Spain or any other country couldendeavor to maintain her right in such a dispute, and under suchconditions, without occasional rashness, violence, and injustice on thepart of her officials? There can be no doubt that many high-handed andarbitrary acts were done against English subjects by the officers ofSpanish authority. On every real and every reported and everyimaginary act of Spanish harshness the Patriots seized with avidity. They presented petitions, moved for papers, moved that this injuredperson and that be allowed to appear and state his case at the bar ofthe House of Commons. Some English sailors and other Englishmen werethus allowed to appear at the bar, and did make statements of outrageand imprisonment. Some of these statements were doubtless true, somewere probably exaggerated; the men who made them were not on oath;there was every temptation to exaggerate, because it had becomeapparently the duty of every true Patriot who loved old England tobelieve anything said by anybody against Spain. The same sort of thinghas happened again and again in times nearer to our own, where someclass of English traders have been trying to carry on a forbiddentraffic with the subjects of a foreign sovereign. We see the samethings, now in China, and now in Burmah; dress goods in one place, opium in another, slaves in another; reckless smuggling by the traders, overdone reprisals by the authorities; and then we hear the familiarappeal to England not to allow her sons to be insulted and imprisonedby some insolent foreign Power. 

Walpole was not inclined to allow English subjects to be molested withimpunity. But he saw no reason to believe that Spain intended anythingof the kind. The advices he received from the British Minister at theSpanish Court spoke rather of delays and slow formalities, and varioussmall disputes and misunderstandings, than of {153} wilful denial ofjustice. Walpole felt satisfied that by putting a little diplomaticpressure on the proceedings every satisfaction fairly due to Englandand English subjects could be obtained. He, therefore, refused for along time to allow his hand to be forced by the Opposition, and wasfull of hope that the good sense of the country in general wouldsustain him against the united strength of his enemies, as it had sooften done before. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Alderman Perry's motion]

Walpole did not know how strong his enemies were this time. He did notknow what a capital cry they had got, what a powerful appeal tonational passion they could put into voice, and what a loud reply thenational passion would make to the appeal. On Saturday, March 2, 1738, a petition was presented to the House of Commons from divers merchants, planters, and others trading to and interested in the Britishplantations in America. The petition was presented by Mr. Perry, oneof the representatives of London, and an alderman of the City. Thepetition set forth a long history of the alleged grievances, and of thedenial of redress, and prayed the House to "provide such timely andadequate remedy for putting an end to all insults and depredations onthem and their fellow-subjects as to the House shall seem meet, as wellas procure such relief for the unhappy sufferers as the nature of thecase and the justice of their cause may require; and that they may beheard by themselves and counsel thereupon. "

On the same day several other petitions from cities, and from privateindividuals, were presented on the same subject. The debate on Mr. Perry's motion mainly turned, at first, on the minor question, whetherthe house would admit the petitioners to be heard by themselves andalso by counsel, or, according to the habit of the House, by themselvesor counsel. Yet, short and almost formal as the debate might havebeen, the opponents of the Government contrived to import into it anumber of assumptions, and an amount of passion, such as the earlierstages of a difficult and delicate international dispute are seldomallowed to exhibit. Even so cautious and respectable a man as Sir{154} John Barnard, a typical English merchant of the highest class, did not hesitate to speak of the grievances as if they were allestablished and admitted, and the action of Spain as a wilful outrageupon the trade, the honor, and the safety of Great Britain. Walpoleargued that the petitioners should be heard by themselves and not bycounsel; but the main object of his speech was to appeal to the House"not to work upon the passions where the head is to be informed. " Mr. Robert Wilmot thereupon arose, and replied in an oration belonging tothat "spread-eagle" order which is familiar to American politicalcontroversy. "Talk of working on the passions, " this orator exclaimed;"can any man's passions be wound up to a greater height, can any man'sindignation be more raised, than every free-born Briton's must be whenhe reads a letter which I have received this morning, and which I havenow in my hand? This letter, sir, gives an account that seventy of ourbrave sailors are now in chains in Spain. Our countrymen in chains, and slaves to Spaniards! Is not this enough to fire the coldest? Isnot this enough to rouse all the vengeance of a national resentment?Shall we sit here debating about words and forms while the sufferingsof our countrymen call out loudly for redress?"

[Sidenote: 1738--An unlucky argument]

Pulteney himself, when speaking on the general question, professed, indeed, not to assume the charges in the petitions to be true beforethey had been established, but he proceeded to deal with them onsomething very like a positive assumption that they would beestablished. Thereupon he struck the key-note of the whole outcry thatwas to be raised against the Ministry. Could any one believe, heindignantly asked, that the Court of Spain "would have presumed totrifle in such a manner with any ministry but one which they thoughtwanted either courage or inclination to resent such treatment?" Heaccused the Ministry of "a scandalous breach of duty" and "the mostinfamous pusillanimity. " Later in the same day Sir John Barnard movedan Address to the Crown, asking for papers to be laid before the House. Walpole did not actually oppose {155} the motion, and only suggested amodification of it, but he earnestly entreated the House not, at thatmoment, to press the Sovereign for a publication of the latestdespatches. He went so far as to let the House understand that thelatest reply from Spain was not satisfactory, and that it might behighly injurious to the prospects of peace if it were then to be givento the world; and he pointed to the obvious fact that "when once apaper is read in this House the contents of it cannot be long a secretto the world. " The King, he said, had still good hopes of being ableto prevail on Spain to make an honorable and ample reparation for anywrongs that might have been done to Englishmen. "We ought, " Walpolepleaded, "to wait, at least, till his Majesty shall tell us from thethrone that all hopes of obtaining satisfaction are over. Then it willbe time enough to declare for a war with Spain. " Unfortunately, Walpole went on to a mode of argument which was, of all others, thebest calculated to give his enemies an advantage over him. Hislanguage was strong and clear; his sarcasm was well merited; but thetime was not suited for an appeal to such very calm common-sense asthat to which the great minister was trying in vain to address himself. "The topic of national resentment for national injury affords, " Walpolesaid, "a fair field for declamation; and, to hear gentlemen speak onthat head, one would be apt to believe that victory and glory are boundto attend the resolutions of our Parliament and the efforts of ourarms. But gentlemen ought to reflect that there are many instances inthe history of the world, and some in the annals of England, whichprove that conquest is not always inseparable from the justest cause ormost exalted courage. "

The hearts of the Patriots must have rejoiced when they heard such anargument from the lips of Walpole. For what did it amount to? Onlythis--that this un-English Minister, this unworthy servant of thecrown, positively admitted into his own mind the idea that there wasany possibility of England's being worsted in any war with {156} anystate or any number of states! Fancy any one allowing such a thoughtto remain for an instant in his mind! As if it were not a settledthing, specially arranged by Providence, that one Englishman is a matchfor at least any six Spaniards, Frenchmen, or other contemptibleforeigners! Walpole's great intellectual want was the lack ofimagination. If he had possessed more imagination, he would have beennot only a greater orator, but a greater debater. He would have seenmore clearly the effect of an argument on men with minds andtemperaments unlike his own. In this particular instance the appeal towhat he would have considered cool common-sense was utterly damaging tohim. Pulteney pounced on him at once. "From longer forbearance, " heexclaimed, "we have everything to fear; from acting vigorously we haveeverything to hope. " He admitted that a war with Spain was to beavoided, if it could be avoided with honor; but, he asked, "will itever be the opinion of an English statesman that, in order to avoidinconvenience, we are to embrace a dishonor? Where is the brave man, "he demanded, "who in a just cause will submissively lie down underinsults? No!--in such a case he will do all that prudence andnecessity dictate in order to procure satisfaction, and leave the restto Providence. " Pulteney spoke with undisguised contempt of thesensitive honor of the Spanish people. "I do not see, " hedeclared--and this was meant as a keen personal thrust at Walpole--"howwe can comply with the form of Spanish punctilio without sacrificingsome of the essentials of British honor. Let gentlemen but considerwhether our prince's and our country's honor is not as much engaged torevenge our injuries as the honor of the Spaniards can be to supporttheir insolence. " There never, probably, was a House of Commons socool-headed and cautious as not to be stirred out of reason and intopassion by so well-contrived an appeal. The appeal was followed up byothers. "Perhaps, " Sir William Wyndham said, "if we lose the characterof being good fighters, we shall at least gain that {157} of beingexcellent negotiators. " But he would not leave to Walpole the fullbenefit of even that doubtful change of character. "The character of amere negotiator, " he insisted, "had never been affected by Englandwithout her losing considerable, both in her interest at home and herinfluence abroad. This truth will appear plainly to any one whocompares the figure this nation made in Europe under Queen Elizabethwith the figure she made under her successor, King James the First. The first never treated with an insulting enemy; the other never durstbreak with a treacherous friend. The first thought it her glory tocommand peace; the other thought it no dishonor to beg it. In herreign every treaty was crowned with glory; in his no peace was attendedwith tranquillity; in short, her care was to improve, his to depressthe true British spirit. " Even the cool-headed and wise Sir JohnBarnard cried out that "a dishonorable peace is worse than adestructive war. "

[Sidenote: 1738--Wyndham's taunts]

We need not go through all the series of debates in the Lords andCommons. It is enough to say that every one of these debates made thechances of a peaceful arrangement grow less and less. The impressionof the Patriots seemed to be that Walpole was to be held responsiblefor every evasion, every delay, every rash act, and every denial ofjustice on the part of Spain. With this conviction, it was clear tothem that the more they attacked the Spanish Government the more theyattacked and damaged Walpole. Full of this spirit, therefore, theylaunched out in every debate about Spanish treachery, and Spanishfalsehood, and Spanish cruelty, and Spanish religious faith in a mannerthat might have seemed deliberately designed to render a peacefulsettlement of any question impossible between England and Spain. Yetwe do not believe that the main object of the Patriots was to forceEngland into a war with Spain. Their main object was to force Walpoleout of office. They were for a long time under the impression that hewould resign rather than make war. Once he resigned, the Patriotswould very soon abate {158} their war fury, and try whether the quarrelmight not be settled in peace with honor. But they had allowedthemselves to be driven too far along the path of war; and they had nottaken account of the fact that the great peace Minister might, afterall, prefer staying in office and making war to going out of office andleaving some rival to make it. 

[Sidenote: 1738--Walpole almost alone]

Suddenly there came to the aid of the Patriots and their policy theportentous story of Captain Jenkins and his ear. Captain Jenkins hadsailed on board his vessel, the _Rebecca_, from Jamaica for London, andoff the coast of Havana he was boarded by a revenue-cutter of Spain, which proceeded to subject him and his vessel to the right of search. Jenkins declared that he had been fearfully maltreated; that theSpanish officers had him hanged up at the yard-arm and cut down when hewas half-dead; that they slashed at his head with their cutlasses andhacked his left ear nearly off; and that, to complete the measure oftheir outrages, one of them actually tore off his bleeding ear, flungit in his face, and bade him carry it home to his king and tell himwhat had been done. To this savage order Jenkins reported that he wasready with a reply: "I commend, " he said, "my soul to God, and my causeto my country"--a very eloquent and telling little sentence, whichgives good reason to think of what Jenkins could have done afterpreparation in the House of Commons if he could throw off such rhetoricunprepared, and in spite of the disturbing effect of having just beenhalf-hanged and much mutilated. Jenkins showed, indeed, remarkablepresence of mind in every way. He prudently brought home the severedear with him, and invited all patriotic Englishmen to look at it. Scepticism itself could not, for a while at all events, refuse tobelieve that the Spaniards had cut off Jenkins's ear, when, behold!there was the ear itself to tell the story. Later on, indeed, Scepticism did begin to assert herself. Were there not other ways, itwas asked, by which Englishmen might have lost an ear as well as by thefury of the hateful Spaniards? {159} Were there not British pillories?Whether Jenkins sacrificed his ear to the cause of his country abroador to the criminal laws of his country at home, it seems to be quitesettled now that his story was a monstrous exaggeration, if not a pureinvention. Burke has distinctly stigmatized it as "the fable ofJenkins's ear. " The fable, however, did its work for that time. Itwas eagerly caught up and believed in; people wanted to believe in it, and the ear was splendid evidence. The mutilation of Jenkins playedmuch the same part in England that the fabulous insult of the King ofPrussia to the French envoy played in the France of 1870. Theeloquence of Pulteney, the earnestness of Wyndham, the intriguinggenius of Bolingbroke, seemed only to have been agencies to prepare theway for the triumph of Jenkins and his severed ear. The outcry allover the country began to make Walpole feel at last that somethingwould have to be done. His own constitutional policy came against himin this difficulty. He had broken the power of the House of Lords andhad strengthened that of the House of Commons. The hereditary Chambermight perhaps be relied upon to stand firmly against a popular clamor, but it would be impossible to expect such firmness at such a time froman elective assembly of almost any sort. In this instance, however, Walpole found himself worse off in the House of Lords than even in theHouse of Commons. The House of Lords was stimulated by the reallypowerful eloquence of Carteret and of Chesterfield, and there was noman on the ministerial side of the House who could stand up with anyeffect against such accomplished and unscrupulous political gladiators. 

Walpole appealed to the Parliament not to take any step which wouldrender a peaceful settlement impossible, and he promised to make themost strenuous efforts to obtain a prompt consideration of England'sclaims. He set to work energetically for this purpose. Hisdifficulties were greatly increased by the unfriendly conduct of theSpanish envoy, who was on terms of confidence with the Patriots, andwent about everywhere declaring {160} that Walpole was trying todeceive the English people as well as the Spanish Government. It musthave needed all Walpole's strength of will to sustain him against somany difficulties and so many enemies at such a crisis. It had notbeen his way to train up statesmen to help him in his work, and now hestood almost alone. 

The negotiations were further complicated by the disputes betweenEngland and Spain as to the right of English traders to cut logwood inCampeachy Bay, and as to the settlement of the boundaries of the newEnglish colonies of Florida and Carolina in North America, and therival claims of England and Spain to this or that strip of borderterritory. Sometimes, however, when an international dispute has to beglossed over, rather than settled, to the full satisfaction of eitherparty, it is found a convenient thing for diplomatists to have a greatmany subjects of disputation wrapped up in one arrangement. Walpolewas sincerely anxious to give Spain a last chance; but the Spanishpeople, on their side, were stirred to bitterness and to passion by thevehement denunciations of the English Opposition. Even then, whendaily papers were little known to the population of either London orMadrid, people in London and in Madrid did somehow get to know thatthere had been fierce exchange of international dislike and defiance. Walpole, however, still clung to his policy of peace, and his influencein the House of Commons was commanding enough to get his proposalsaccepted there. In the House of Lords the Ministry were nowhere indebate. Something, indeed, should be said for Lord Hervey, who hadbeen raised to the Upper House as Baron Hervey of Ickworth in 1733, andwho made some speeches full of clear good-sense and sound moderatingargument in support of Walpole's policy. But Carteret and Chesterfieldwould have been able in any case to overwhelm the Duke of Newcastle, and the Duke of Newcastle now was turning traitor to Walpole. Stupidas Newcastle was, he was beginning to see that the day of Walpole'sdestiny was nearly over, and he was taking {161} measures to actaccordingly. All that Newcastle could do as Secretary for ForeignAffairs was done to make peace impossible. 

[Sidenote: 1739--The Convention]

Walpole thought the time had fully come when it would be right for himto show that, while still striving for peace, he was not unprepared forwar. He sent a squadron of line-of-battle ships to the Mediterraneanand several cruisers to the West Indies, and he allowed letters ofmarque to be issued. These demonstrations had the effect of making theSpanish Government somewhat lower their tone--at least they had theeffect of making that Government seem more willing to come to terms. Long negotiations as to the amount of claim on the one side and ofset-off on the other were gone into both in London and Madrid. We neednot study the figures, for nothing came of the proposed arrangement. It was impossible that anything could come of it. England and Spainwere quarrelling over several great international questions. Eventhese questions were themselves only symbolical of a still greater one, of a paramount question which was never put into words: the questionwhether England or Spain was to have the ascendent in the new worldacross the Atlantic. Walpole and the Spanish Government drew up anarrangement, or rather professed to find a basis of arrangement, forthe paying off of certain money claims. A convention was agreed upon, and was signed on January 14, 1739. The convention arranged that acertain sum of money was to be paid by Spain to England within a giventime, but that this discharge of claims should not extend to anydispute between the King of Spain and the South Sea Company as holdersof the Asiento Contract; and that two plenipotentiaries from each sideshould meet at Madrid to settle the claims of England and Spain withregard to the rights of trade in the New World and the boundaries ofCarolina and Florida. This convention, it will be seen, left thereally important subjects of dispute exactly where they were before. 

{162}

Such as it was, however, it had hardly been signed before thediplomatists were already squabbling over the extent and interpretationof its terms, and mixing it up with the attempted arrangement of otherand older disputes. Parliament opened on February 1, 1739, and thespeech from the throne told of the convention arranged with Spain. "Itis now, " said the Royal speech, "a great satisfaction to me that I amable to acquaint you that the measures I have pursued have had so goodan effect that a convention is concluded and ratified between me andthe King of Spain, whereby, upon consideration had of the demands onboth sides, that prince hath obliged himself to make reparation to mysubjects for their losses by a certain stipulated payment; andplenipotentiaries are therein named and appointed for redressing withina limited time all those grievances and abuses which have hithertointerrupted our commerce and navigation in the American seas, and forsettling all matters in dispute in such a manner as may for the futureprevent and remove all new causes and pretences of complaint by astrict observance of our mutual treaties and a just regard to therights and privileges belonging to each other. " The King promised thatthe convention should be laid before the House at once. 

Before the terms of the convention were fully in the knowledge ofParliament, there was already a strong dissatisfaction felt among theleading men of the Opposition. We need not set this down to the meredetermination of implacable partisans not to be content with anythingproposed or executed by the Ministers of the Crown. Sir John Barnardwas certainly no implacable partisan in that sense. He was really atrue-hearted and patriotic Englishman. Yet Sir John Barnard was one ofthe very first to predict that the convention would be found utterlyunsatisfactory. There is nothing surprising in the prediction. TheKing's own speech, which naturally made the best of things, left itevident that no important and international question had been touchedby the convention. {163} Every dispute over which war might have to bemade remained in just the same state after the convention as before. Lord Carteret in the House of Lords boldly assumed that the conventionmust be unsatisfactory, and even degrading, to the English people, andhe denounced it with all the eloquence and all the vigor of which hewas capable. Lord Hervey vainly appealed to the House to bear in mindthat the convention was not yet before them. "Let us read it, " heurged, "before we condemn it. " Vain, indeed, was the appeal; theconvention was already condemned. The very description of it in thespeech from the throne had condemned it in advance. 

[Sidenote: 1739--Petition against the Convention]

The convention was submitted to Parliament and made known to thecountry. The reception it got was just what might have been expected. The one general cry was that the agreement gave up or put aside everyserious claim made by England. Spain had not renounced her right ofsearch; the boundaries of England's new colonies had not been defined;not a promise was made by Spain that the Spanish officials who hadimprisoned and tortured unoffending British subjects should bepunished, or even brought to any manner of trial. In the heated temperof the public the whole convention seemed an inappropriate and highlyoffensive farce. On February 23d the sheriffs of the City of Londonpresented to the House of Commons a petition against the convention. The petition expressed the great concern and surprise of the citizensof London "to find by the convention lately concluded between hisMajesty and the King of Spain that the Spaniards are so far from givingup their (as we humbly apprehend) unjust pretension of a right to visitand search our ships on the seas of America that this pretension oftheirs is, among others, referred to the future regulation and decisionof plenipotentiaries appointed on each side, whereby we apprehend it isin some degree admitted. " The petition referred to the "crueltreatment of the English sailors whose hard fate has thrown them intothe {164} hands of the Spaniards, " and added, with a curious mixture ofpatriotic sentiment and practical, business-like selfishness, that "ifthis cruel treatment of English seamen were to be put up with, and noreparation demanded, it might have the effect"--of what, does thereader think?--"of deterring the seamen from undertaking voyages to theseas of America without an advance of wages, which that trade or anyother will not be able to support. "

[Sidenote: 1739--Carteret's attack]

The same petition was presented to the House of Lords by the Duke ofBedford. Lord Carteret moved that the petitioners should be heard bythemselves, and, if they should desire it, by counsel. It was agreed, after some debate, that the petitioners should be heard by themselvesin the first instance, and that if afterwards they desired to be heardby counsel their request should be taken into consideration. LordChesterfield in the course of the debate contrived ingeniously to givea keen stroke to the convention while declaring that he did not presumeas yet to form any opinion on it, or to anticipate any discussion onits merits. "I cannot help, " he said, "saying, however, that to me itis a most unfavorable symptom of its being for the good of the nationwhen I see so strong an opposition made to it out-of-doors by those whoare the most immediately concerned in its effects. "

A debate of great interest, animation, and importance took place in theHouse of Lords when the convention was laid before that assembly. TheEarl of Cholmondeley moved that an address be presented to the King tothank him for having concluded the convention. The address was drawnup by a very dexterous hand, a master-hand. Its terms were such asmight have conciliated the leaders of the Opposition, if indeed thesewere to be conciliated by anything short of Walpole's resignation, for, while the address approved of all that had been done thus far, itcleverly assumed that all this was but the preliminary to a realsettlement; and by ingenuously expressing the entire reliance of theHouse on the King's taking care that proper provision should be madefor the redress of various {165} specified grievances, it succeeded inmaking it quite clear that in the opinion of the House such provisionhad not yet been made. The address concluded most significantly withan assurance to the King that "in case your Majesty's just expectationsshall not be answered, this House will heartily and zealously concur inall such measures as shall be necessary to vindicate your Majesty'shonor, and to preserve to your subjects the full enjoyment of all thoserights to which they are entitled by treaty and the Law of Nations. "An address of this kind would seem one that might well have been movedas an amendment to a ministerial address, and understood to beobliquely a vote of censure on the advisers of the Crown. It seems thesort of address that Carteret might have moved and Chesterfieldseconded. Carteret and Chesterfield opposed it with spirit andeloquence. "Upon your Lordships' behavior to-day, " said Carteret atthe close of a bitter and a passionate attack upon the Ministry and theconvention, "depends the fate of the British Empire. . . . This nationhas hitherto maintained her independence by maintaining her commerce;but if either is weakened the other must fail. It is by her commercethat she has been hitherto enabled to stand her ground against all theopen and secret attacks of the enemies to her religion, liberties, andconstitution. It is from commerce, my Lords, that I behold yourLordships within these walls, a free, an independent assembly; but, should any considerations influence your Lordships to give so fatal awound to the interest and honor of this kingdom as your agreeing tothis address, it is the last time I shall have occasion to trouble thisHouse. For, my Lords, if we are to meet only to give a sanction tomeasures that overthrow all our rights, I should look upon it as amisfortune for me to be either accessary or witness to such acompliance. I will not only repeat what the merchants told yourLordships--that their trade is ruined--I will go further; I will saythe nobility is ruined, the whole nation is undone. For I can callthis treaty nothing else but a mortgage of {166} your honor, asurrender of your liberties. " Such language may now seem toooverwrought and extravagant to have much effect upon an assembly ofpractical men. But it was not language likely to be consideredoverwrought and extravagant at that time and during that crisis. TheOpposition had positively worked themselves into the belief that if theconvention were accepted the last day of England's strength, prosperity, and glory had come. Carteret, besides, was talking to theEnglish public as well as to the House of Lords. He knew what he meantwhen he denounced the enemies of England's religion as well as theenemies of England's trade. The imputation was that the Ministerhimself was a secret confederate of the enemies of the nationalreligion as well as the enemies of the national trade. Men who but afew short years before were secretly engaged in efforts at a Stuartrestoration, which certainly would not be an event much in harmony withthe spread of the Protestant faith in England, were now denouncingWalpole every day on the ground that he was caballing with CatholicSpain, the Spain of Philip the Second, the Spain of the Armada and theInquisition, the implacable enemy of England's national religion. 

[Sidenote: 1739--Argyle's anecdote]

The Duke of Argyle made a most vehement speech against the proposedaddress. He dealt a sharp blow against the Ministry when he declaredthat the whole convention was a French and not a Spanish measure. Hesaid he should never be persuaded that fear of aught that could be doneby Spain could have induced ministers to accept "this thing you call aconvention. " "It is the interest of France that our navigation andcommerce should be ruined, we are the only people in the world whomFrance has reason to be apprehensive of in America, and every advantagethat Spain gains in point of commerce is gained for her. . . . So faras I can judge from the tenor of our late behavior, our dread of Francehas been the spring of all our weak and ruinous measures. To thisdread we have sacrificed the most distinguishing honors of thiskingdom. This dread of France has changed {167} every maxim of rightgovernment among us. There is no measure for the advantage of thiskingdom that has been set on foot for these many years to which she hasnot given a negative. There is no measure so much to our detrimentinto which she has not led us. " He scornfully declared that what thereasons of ministers might be for this pusillanimity he could not tell, "for, my Lords, though I am a privy councillor I am as unacquaintedwith the secrets of the Government as any private gentleman that hearsme. " Then he told an anecdote of the late Lord Peterborough. "WhenLord Peterborough was asked by a friend one day his opinion of acertain measure, says my lord, in some surprise, 'This is the firsttime I ever heard of it. ' 'Impossible, ' says the other; 'why, you area privy councillor. ' 'So I am, ' replies his lordship, 'and there is aCabinet councillor coming up to us just now; if you ask the samequestion of him he will perhaps hold his peace, and then you will thinkhe is in the secret; but if he opens once his mouth about it you willfind he knows as little of it as I do. ' No, my Lords, " exclaimed theDuke of Argyle, "it is not being in Privy Council or in CabinetCouncil; one must be in the Minister's counsel to know the true motivesof our late proceedings. " The duke concluded his oration, characteristically, with a glorification of his own honest andimpartial heart. 

The address was sure to be carried; Walpole's influence was stillstrong enough to accomplish that much. But everybody must already haveseen that the convention was not an instrument capable of satisfying, or, indeed, framed with any notion of satisfying, the popular demandsof England. It was an odd sort of arrangement, partly internationaland partly personal; an adjustment, or attempted adjustment here of adispute between States, and there of a dispute between rival tradingcompanies. The reconstituted South Sea Company--which had now becomeone of the three great trading companies of England, the East IndiaCompany and the Bank being the {168} other two--had all manner ofnegotiations, arrangements, and transactions with the King of Spain. All these affairs now became mixed up with the national claims, andwere dealt with alike in the convention. The British plenipotentiaryat the Spanish Court was--still further to complicate matters--theagent for the South Sea Company. The convention provided that certainset-off claims of Spain should be taken into consideration as well asthe claims of England. Spain had some demands against England for thevalue of certain vessels of the Spanish navy attacked and capturedduring the reign of George the First without a declaration of war. Theclaim had been admitted in principle by England, and it became whatwould be called in the law courts only a question of damages. Then theconvention contained some stipulations concerning certain claims ofSpain upon the South Sea Company; that is, on what was, after all, onlya private trading company. When the anomaly was pointed out by LordCarteret and others in the House of Lords, and it was asked how came itthat the English plenipotentiary at the Court of Spain was also theagent of the South Sea Company, it was ingeniously answered on the partof the Government that nothing could be more fitting and proper, seeingthat, as English plenipotentiary, he had to act for England with theKing of Spain, and as agent for the South Sea Company to deal with thesame sovereign in that sovereign's capacity as a great privatemerchant. Therefore the national claims were made, to a certainextent, subservient to, or dependent on, the claims of the South SeaCompany. Whether we may think the claims of the English merchants andseamen were exaggerated or not, one thing is obvious: they could notpossibly be satisfied under such a convention. 

[Sidenote: 1739--The Prince's first vote]

The debate in the House of Lords was carried on by the Opposition withgreat spirit and brilliancy. Lord Hervey defended the policy of theGovernment with dexterity. Possibly he made as much of the case ascould be made of it. The motion for the address was carried {169} byseventy-one votes against fifty-eight--a marked increase of strength onthe part of the Opposition. It is to be recorded that the Prince ofWales gave his first vote in Parliament to support the Opposition. Thename of "His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales" is the first in thedivision list of the peers who voted against the address and in favorof the policy of war. There was nothing very mutinous in Frederick'saction so far as the King was concerned. Very likely Frederick wouldhave given the same vote, no matter what the King's views on thesubject. But every one knew that George was eager for war, that he wasfully convinced of his capacity to win laurels on the battle-field, andthat he was longing to wear them. A Bonaparte prince of our own daywas described by a French literary man as an unemployed Caesar. KingGeorge believed himself an unemployed Caesar, and was clamorous forearly employment. 

{170}

CHAPTER XXXII. 

WALPOLE YIELDS TO WAR. 

[Sidenote: 1739--Horatio Walpole's prediction]

The nation was plunging, not drifting, into war. Walpole himself, while still striving hard to put off any decisive step, and even yetperhaps hoping against hope that the people would return to theirsenses and leave the Patriots to themselves, did not venture any longerto meet the demands of the Opposition by bold argument founded on theprinciples of justice and wisdom. He had sometimes to talk the same"tall talk" as that in which the Patriots delighted, and to rave alittle about the great deeds that would have to be done if Spain didnot listen to reason very soon. But he still pleaded that Spain wouldlisten to reason soon, very soon, and that if war must come sooner orlater he preferred to take it later. That, it need hardly be said, wasnot Walpole's expression--it belongs to a later day--but it representshis mode of argument. 

On March 6th the House of Commons met for the purpose of taking theforedoomed convention into consideration. So intense was the interesttaken in the subject, so highly strung was political feeling, that morethan four hundred members were in their places at eight o'clock in themorning. Seldom indeed is anxiety expressed in so emphatic andconclusive a form among members of the House of Commons. Readers mayremember one day within recent years when a measure of momentousimportance was to be introduced into the House of Commons, and when, long before eight in the morning, every seat in the House was occupied. On this March 6, 1739, the House resolved itself into committee, andspent the whole {171} day in hearing some of the merchants and otherwitnesses against the convention. The whole of the next day(Wednesday) was occupied in the reading of documents bearing on thesubject, and it was not until Thursday that the debate began. Thedebate was more memorable for what followed it than for itself. Initself it was the familiar succession of fierce and unscrupulousattacks on the policy of peace, mixed up with equally fierce butcertainly very well-deserved attacks on the character of theconvention. William Pitt wound up his speech by declaring that "thisconvention, I think from my soul, is nothing but a stipulation fornational ignominy; an illusory expedient to baffle the resentment ofthe nation; a truce without a suspension of hostilities on the part ofSpain; on the part of England a suspension, as to Georgia, of the firstlaw of nature, self-preservation and self-defence; a surrender of therights and the trade of England to the mercy of plenipotentiaries, and, in this infinitely highest and sacred point, future security, not onlyinadequate, but directly repugnant to the resolutions of Parliament andthe gracious promise from the throne. The complaints of yourdespairing merchants, the voice of England, have condemned it; be theguilt of it upon the head of its adviser! God forbid that thiscommittee should share the guilt by approving it!"

One point in the debate is worthy of notice. The address to the Kingapproving of the convention was moved by Horatio Walpole, thediplomatist, brother of Sir Robert. In the course of his speechHoratio Walpole declared that the outbreak of war between England andany great continental State would be certain to be followed by a newblow struck by the Pretender and his followers. Some of the orators ofOpposition spoke with immense scorn of the possibility of a Jacobitemovement ever again being heard of in England. The Walpoles bothgenerally understood pretty well what they were talking about. Theprediction of Horatio Walpole came true. 

{172}

[Sidenote: 1739--The secession]

The address was carried by 260 against 232. The ministerial majorityhad run down to 28. Next day the battle was renewed. According toparliamentary usage, the report of the address was brought up, andPulteney seized the opportunity to make another vehement attack on theconvention and the ministers. He accused the Prime-minister of meanlystooping to the dictates of a haughty, insolent Court, and of barteringaway the lives and liberties of Englishmen for "a sneaking, temporary, disgraceful expedient. " But the interest of the day was to come. Theaddress was agreed to by a majority of 262 against 234. This wasexactly the same majority as before, only with both sides slightlystrengthened. Then the principal leaders of Opposition thought thetime had come for them to intervene with a deliberately planned _coupde théâtre_. Acting, it is understood, under the advice ofBolingbroke, they had been looking out for an opportunity to secedefrom the House of Commons on the ground that it was vain for patrioticmen to try to do their duty to their country in a House of which themajority, narrow though it was, was yet the absolute slave of such aminister as Walpole. They hoped that such a step would have twoeffects. It would, they believed, create an immense sensation all overEngland and make them the heroes of the hour; and they fondly hopedthat it would scare Walpole, and prevent him from passing in theirabsence the measures which their presence was unable to prevent. Such, we have no doubt, were the ideas of Bolingbroke and of Pulteney and ofothers; but we do not say that they were the ideas of the man who wasintrusted with the duty of announcing the intentions of his party. This was Sir William Wyndham; and we do not believe that any hope ofbeing one of the heroes of the hour entered for a moment into his mind. He only in a general honest thought, and common good to all, made oneof them. Wyndham rose, and in a speech of great solemnity announcedthat he was about to pay his last duty to his country as a member ofthat {117} House. What hope, he asked, was there when the eloquence ofone man had so great an effect within the walls of the House ofCommons, and the unanimous voice of a brave, suffering people withouthad so little? He implied that the majority of the House must havebeen determined "by arguments that we have not heard. " He bade anadieu to Parliament. "Perhaps, " he said, "when another Parliamentshall succeed, I may again be at liberty to serve my country in thesame capacity. " In other words, if the next Parliament should declarewar on Spain after having got rid of Walpole, then Wyndham and hisfriends might be prevailed on to return. "I therefore appeal to afuture, free, uninfluenced Parliament. Let it be the judge of myconduct and that of my friends on this occasion. Meantime I shallconclude with doing that duty to my country which I am still at libertyto perform--which is to pray for its preservation. May, therefore, that Power which has so often and so visibly before interposed onbehalf of the rights and liberties of this nation continue its careover us at this worst and most dangerous juncture; while the insolenceof enemies without, and the influence of corruption within, threatenthe ruin of her Constitution. "

This speech created, as will readily be imagined, an immense sensationin the House. A member of the Administration, one of the Pelhams, losthis head so completely that he sprang up with the intention of movingthat Wyndham be committed to the Tower. Walpole, who was not in thehabit of losing his head, prevented the ardent Pelham from carrying outhis purpose. Walpole knew quite well that something better could bedone than to evoke for any of the Patriots the antiquated terrors ofthe Tower. Walpole delivered a speech which, for its suppressedpassion and its stern severity, was well equal to the occasion. Thethreat of Wyndham and his friends gave him, he said, no uneasiness. The friends of the Parliament and the nation were obliged to them forpulling off the mask--"We can be upon our guard {174} against openrebellion; it is hard to guard against secret treason. " "The faction Ispeak of never sat in this House, they never joined in any publicmeasure of the Government but with a view to distress it and to serve aPopish interest. " Walpole was delighted to have an opportunity ofpaying off the Opposition for their constant denunciations of hisalleged subservience to the throne of France, by flinging in Wyndham'steeth his old devotion to the cause of the Stuarts. "The gentleman, "he said, "who is now the mouth of this faction was looked upon as thehead of those traitors who, twenty-five years ago, conspired thedestruction of their country and of the royal family to set a PopishPretender on the throne. He was seized by the vigilance of the thenGovernment and pardoned by its clemency, but all the use he hasungratefully made of that clemency has been to qualify himselfaccording to law, that he and his party may some time or other have anopportunity to overthrow all law. " For himself, Walpole declared hewas only afraid that the gentlemen would not be as good as their word, and that they would return to Parliament. "For I remember, " he said, "that in the case of their favorite prelate who was impeached oftreason"--Atterbury--"the same gentleman and his faction made the sameresolution. They then went off like traitors as they were; but theirretreat had not the detestable effect they expected and wished, andtherefore they returned. Ever since they have persevered in the sametreasonable intention of serving that interest by distressing theGovernment. "

[Sidenote: 1739--The policy of secession]

The House broke up in wild excitement; such excitement as had not beenknown there since the Excise Bill or the South Sea Bubble. About sixtyof the Opposition kept for the time their promise of secession. SirJohn Barnard, and two or three other men of mark in the party, had thegood-sense to see that they could serve their cause, whatever it mightbe, better by remaining at their posts than by withdrawing from publiclife. The secession of a party from the House of Commons can {175}hardly ever be anything but a mistake. We are speaking now, of course, of a secession more serious and prolonged than that which concerns aparticular stage of some measure. There have been occasions when theparty in Opposition, after having fought their best against someobnoxious measure in all its former stages, and finding that furtherstruggle would be unavailing, consider that they can make their protestmore effectively, and draw public attention more directly to the natureof the controversy, by withdrawing in a body from the House of Commons, and leaving the Government alone with their responsibility. Such acourse as this has been taken more than once in our own days. It cando no practical harm to the public interest, and it may do some serviceas a political demonstration. But a genuine secession, a prolongedsecession, must, in the nature of things, do harm. It is wrong inprinciple; for a man is elected to the House of Commons in order thathe may represent his constituents and maintain their interests there. To do that is his plain duty and business, which is not to be put awayfor the sake of indulging in any petulant or romantic impulse towithdraw from an assembly because one cannot have one's way there. Nomatter how small the minority on one side of the question, we have seenover and over again what work of political education may be done by aresolute few who will not cease to put forward their arguments and tofight for their cause. 

In the case with which we are now dealing Wyndham and his friends onlygratified Walpole by their unwise course of action. They enabled himto get through some of the work of the session smoothly and easily. Adivision hardly ever was known, and of some debates on really importantquestions there is positively no record. There was, for instance, amotion made in the House of Commons on March 30th for leave to bring ina Bill "to repeal so much of an Act passed in the 25th of King Charlesthe Second, entitled An Act for preventing {176} Dangers which mayhappen from Popish Recusants, as obligeth all persons who are admittedto any office, civil or military, to receive the Sacrament of theLord's Supper within a time limited by the said Act; and for explainingand amending so much of the said Act as relates to the declarationagainst trans-substantiation. " This proposal was supported by some ofWalpole's friends; and, of course, Walpole himself was in favor of itsprinciple. But he was not disposed in the least to trouble his masteror himself about the repeal of Test Acts, either in the interest of theRoman Catholics or the Non-conformists, and he opposed the motion. There was a long debate, but the record says that "the particulars ofit not having been made public, we can give no further account of it, but that many of the members being retired from Parliament, as beforementioned, and most of those concerned in the Administration beingagainst it, the question passed in the negative, 188 noes to 89 yeas. "

The Government were also enabled to pass without any resistance in theHouse of Commons a very ignoble and shabby little treaty with the Kingof Denmark, by which England undertook to pay to Denmark seventythousand pounds a year for three years on condition that Denmark shouldfurnish to King George a body of troops, six thousand men in all, thesetroops to be ready at any time when the King of England should call forthem, and he being bound to pay a certain sum "by way of levy-money"for each soldier. This was not really an English measure at all. Ithad nothing to do with the interests of England, or of George asSovereign of England. It was merely an arrangement between the King ofDenmark and the Elector of Hanover, and was the settlement orcomposition of a miserable quarrel about a castle and a scrap of groundwhich George had bought from the Duchy of Holstein, and which Denmarkclaimed as her own. The dispute led to a military scuffle, in whichthe Danes got the worst of it, and it might have led to a war but thatthe timely treaty and the promised annual {177} payment brought theKing of Denmark round to George's views. The treaty met with someopposition, or at all events some remonstrance, in the House of Lords. Carteret, however, gave it his support, and declared that he thoughtthe treaty a wise and a just measure. Carteret was always in favor ofthe Hanoverian policy of King George. 

[Sidenote: 1739--Walpole has it his own way]

So far, therefore, Walpole had things his own way. He was very glad tobe rid of the Opposition for the time. He might well have addressedthem in words like those which a modern American humorist says werecalled out with enthusiasm to him when he was taking leave of hisfriends and about to sail for Europe: "Don't hurry back--stay awayforever if you like. "

But war was to come all the same. Walpole was not strong enough toprevent that. The incessant attacks made in both Houses of Parliamenthad inflamed the people of Spain into a passion as great as that whichin England was driving Walpole before it. The Spanish Government wouldnot pay the amount arranged for in the convention. They put forward astheir justification the fact, or alleged fact, that the South SeaCompany had failed to discharge its obligations to Spain. The Britishsquadron had been sent to the Mediterranean, and the Spaniards declaredthat this was a threat and an insult to the King of Spain. The claimto the right of search was asserted more loudly and vehemently thanever. Near to the close of the session there was a passionate debatein the House of Lords on the whole subject. The Opposition insistedthat the honor of England would not admit of further delay, and thatthe sword must be unsheathed at once. The Duke of Newcastle could onlyappeal to the House on the part of the Government not to pass aresolution calling upon the King to declare war, but to leave it to theKing to choose his own opportunity. Newcastle feebly pleaded that topass a resolution would be to give untimely warning to England'senemies, and reminded the House that England was likely to have to{178} encounter an enemy stronger and more formidable than Spain. LordHardwicke and Lord Scarborough could only urge on the House theprudence and propriety of leaving the time and manner of action in thehands of the Ministry, in the full assurance that the ministers woulddo all that the nation desired. In other words, the ministers werealready pledged to war. The session was brought to an end on June14th, and on October 19th England declared war against Spain. Theproclamation was greeted with the wildest outburst of popularenthusiasm; an enthusiasm which at the time seemed to run through allorders and classes. Joy-bells rang out their inspiring chimes fromevery church. Exulting crowds shouted in a stentorian chorus ofdelight. Cities flamed with illuminations at night. The Prince ofWales and some of the leaders of the Opposition took part in the publicdemonstration. The Prince stopped at the door of a tavern in FleetStreet, as if he were another Prince Hal carousing with his mates, andcalled for a goblet of wine, which he drank to the toast of comingvictory. The bitter words of Walpole have indeed been often quoted, but they cannot be omitted here: "They may ring their bells now; beforelong they will be wringing their hands. " Walpole was thinking, nodoubt, of the Family Compact, and of "the King over the Water. "

Parliament met in November, 1739, and the seceders were all in theirplaces again. They had been growing heartily sick of secession andinactivity, and they insisted on regarding the declaration of waragainst Spain as a justification of their return to parliamentary life. Pulteney made himself their spokesman in the debate on the Address. "Our step, " he said, meaning their secession, "is so fully justified bythe declaration of war, so universally approved, that any furthervindication of it would be superfluous. " They seceded when they feltthat their opposition was ineffectual, and that their presence was onlymade use of to give the appearance of a fair debate to that which hadalready been ratified. "The {179} state of affairs is now changed; themeasures of the ministers are altered; and the same regard for thehonor and welfare of their country that determined these gentlemen towithdraw has now brought them hither once more, to give their adviceand assistance in those measures which they then pointed out as theonly means of asserting and retrieving them. " Walpole's reply was alittle ungracious. It was, in effect, that he thought the countrycould have done very well without the services of the honorablemembers; that they never would have been missed; and that the nationwas generally wide-awake to the fact that the many useful and popularmeasures passed towards the close of the last session owed theirpassing to the happy absence from Parliament of Pulteney and hisfriends. One might well excuse Walpole if he became sometimes a littleimpatient of the attitudinizing and the vaporing of the Patriots. 

[Sidenote: 1739-1740--Death of Wyndham]

One of the Patriots was not long to trouble Walpole. On July 17, 1740, Sir William Wyndham died. Wyndham was a man of honor and a man ofintellect. We have already in this history described his abilities andhis character, his political purity, his personal consistency. He hadalways been in poor health; his incessant parliamentary work certainlycould not have tended to improve his physical condition; and he was butfifty-three years old when he died. Had he lived yet a little longerhe must have taken high office in a new administration, and he mighthave proved himself a statesman as well as a party leader and aparliamentary orator. Perhaps, on the whole, it is better for his famethat he should have been spared the test. It proved too much forCarteret. We may give Bolingbroke credit for sincerity when he pouredout, in letter after letter, his lament for Wyndham's death. There issomething, however, characteristic of the age and the man inBolingbroke's instant assumption that Walpole must regard the death asa fine stroke of good-luck for himself. "What a star has ourMinister, " Bolingbroke wrote to a friend--"Wyndham dead!" It seemsstrange {180} that Bolingbroke should not even then have been able tosee that the star of the great minister was about to set. The death ofWyndham brought Walpole no profit; gave him no security. But Wyndham'spremature end withdrew a picturesque and a chivalric figure from thelife of the House of Commons. He was one of the few, the very few, really unselfish and high-minded men who then occupied a prominentposition in Parliament. He was not fighting for his own hand. He wasnot a mere partisan. He had enough of the statesman in him to be ableto accept established facts, and not to argue with the inexorable. Hewas not a scholar like Carteret, or an orator like Bolingbroke; he wasnot an ascetic; but he had stainless political integrity, and was atrue friend to his friends. 

[Sidenote: 1740--Walpole's fatal mistake]

Walpole committed the great error of his life when he consented toaccept the war policy which his enemies had proclaimed, and which hehad so long resisted. Even if we consider his conduct not as aquestion of principle, but only as one of mere expediency, it muststill be condemned. No statesman is likely to be able to conduct agreat war whose heart is all the time filled only with a longing forpeace. Walpole was perhaps less likely than any other statesman tomake a war minister. He could not throw his heart into the work. Hewent to it because he was driven to it. It was simply a choice betweendeclaring war and resigning office, and he merely preferred to declarewar. This is not the temper, these are not the conditions, forcarrying out a policy of war. But, as a question of principle, Walpole's conduct admits of no defence. His plain duty was to refuseto administer a policy of which he did not approve, and to leave theresponsibility of the war to those who did approve of it. It is saidthat he tendered his resignation to the King; that the King imploredWalpole to stand by him--not to desert him in that hour of need--andthat Walpole at last consented to remain in office. This may possiblybe true; some such form may have been gone through. But it does notalter the historical judgment about Walpole's {181} action. Walpoleought not to have gone through any forms at such a time. He hated thewar policy; he knew that he was not a war minister; he ought to haverefused to administer such a policy, and have stood by his refusal. Itis said that, in his conversation with the King, Walpole pointed outthat to the minister would be attributed every disaster that mightoccur during a war, his opposition to which would always be considereda crime. But would there be anything very unfair or unreasonable inthat? When a statesman who has fought hard against a war policysuddenly yields to it, and consents to put it into action, would it beunreasonable, if disaster should occur, that his enemies should say, "This comes of trying to conduct a war in which you have no heart orspirit?" Burke passes severe censure even on Walpole's manner ofcarrying on his opposition to the war party. "Walpole, " says Burke, "never manfully put forward the strength of his cause; he temporized;he managed; and, adopting very nearly the sentiments of hisadversaries, he opposed their inferences. This, for a politicalcommander, is the choice of a weak post. His adversaries had the bestof the argument as he handled it; not as the reason and justice of hiscause enabled him to manage it. " Then Burke adds this emphaticsentence: "I say this after having seen, and with some care examined, the original documents concerning certain important transactions ofthose times; they perfectly satisfied me of the extreme injustice ofthat war, and of the falsehood of the colors which, to his own ruin, and guided by a mistaken policy, he suffered to be daubed over thatmeasure. " To his own ruin? Yes, truly. The consequence of Walpole'ssurrender was to himself and his political career fatal--irretrievable. His wrong-doing brought its heavy punishment along with it. He has yetto struggle for a short while against fate and his own fault; he hasstill to receive a few successive humiliations before the great andfinal fall. But the day of his destiny is over. For all real work hiscareer may be said to have closed on the day when he consented toremain in {182} office and become the instrument of his enemies. Withthat day he passed out of the real world and life of politics, andbecame as a shadow among shadows. 

We need not trouble ourselves much about the war with Spain. Onneither side of the struggle was anything done which calls for gravehistorical notice. Every little naval success one of our admiralsaccomplished in the American seas, as they were then called, wasglorified as if it had been an anticipated Trafalgar; and our admiralsaccomplished blunders and failures as well as petty victories. Thequarrel very soon became swallowed up in the great war which broke outon the death of Charles the Sixth of Spain, and the occupation ofSilesia by Frederick of Prussia. England lent a helping hand in thegreat war, but its tale does not belong to English history. Twopredictions of Walpole's were very quickly realized. France almostimmediately took part with Spain, in accordance with the terms of theFamily Compact. In 1740 an organization was got up in Scotland by anumber of Jacobite noblemen and other gentlemen, pledging themselves tostake fortune and life on the Stuart cause whenever its standard, supported by foreign auxiliaries, should be raised in Great Britain. This was the shadow cast before by the coming events of"forty-five"--events which Walpole was not destined to see. 

[Sidenote: 1743--George at Dettingen]

One link of personal interest connects England with the war. Georgesent a body of British and Hanoverian troops into the field to supportMaria Theresa of Hungary. The troops were under the command of LordStair, the veteran soldier and diplomatist, whose brilliant career hasbeen already described in this history. George himself joined LordStair and fought at the battle of Dettingen, where the French werecompletely defeated; one of the few creditable events of the war, sofar as English arms were concerned. George behaved with great courageand spirit. If the poor, stupid, puffy, plucky little man did but knowwhat a strange, picturesque, memorable figure he was as he stood upagainst the enemy at that battle of Dettingen! {183} The last king ofEngland who ever appeared with his army in the battle-field! There, ashe gets down off his unruly horse, determined to trust to his own stoutlegs--because, as he says, they will not run away--there is the lastsuccessor of the Williams, and the Edwards, and the Henrys; the lastsuccessor of the Conquerer, and Edward the First, and the Black Prince, and Henry the Fourth, and Henry of Agincourt, and William of Nassau;the last English king who faces a foe in battle. With him went out, inthis country, the last tradition of the old and original duty and rightof royalty--the duty and the right to march with the national army inwar. A king in older days owed his kingship to his capacity for thebrave squares of war. In other countries the tradition lingers still. A continental sovereign, even if he have not really the generalship tolead an army, must appear on the field of battle, and at least seem tolead it, and he must take his share of danger with the rest. But inEngland the very idea has died out, never in all probability to comeback to life again. If one were to follow some of the examples set usin classical imaginings, we might fancy the darkening clouds on thewest, where the sun has sunk over the battlefield, to be the phantomshapes of the great English kings who led their people and their armiesin the wars. Unkingly, indeed unheroic, little of kin with them theymight well have thought that panting George; and yet they might havelooked on him with interest as the last of their proud race. 

We have been anticipating a little; let us anticipate a little more andsay what came of the war, so far as the claims originally made byEngland, or rather by the Patriots, were concerned. When peace wasarranged, nearly ten years after, the _asiento_ was renewed for fouryears, and not one word was said in the treaty about Spain renouncingthe right of search. The great clamor of the Patriots had been thatSpain must be made to proclaim publicly her renunciation of the rightof search; and when a treaty of settlement came to be drawn up not a{184} sentence was inserted about the right of search, and no Englishstatesman troubled his head about the matter. The words of Burke, taken out of one of his writings from which a quotation has alreadybeen made, form the most fitting epitaph on the war as it first broke, out--the war of Jenkins's ear. "Some years after it was my fortune, "says Burke, "to converse with many of the principal actors against thatminister (Walpole), and with those who principally excited that clamor. None of them--no, not one--did in the least defend the measure orattempt to justify their conduct. They condemned it as freely as theywould have done in commenting upon any proceeding in history in whichthey were totally unconcerned. " Let it not be forgotten, however, that, while this is a condemnation of the Patriots, it is no less acondemnation of Walpole. The policy which none of them couldafterwards defend, which he himself had always condemned andreprobated, he nevertheless undertook to carry out rather than submitto be driven from office. Schiller in one of his dramas mourns overthe man who stakes reputation, health, and all upon success--and nosuccess in the end. It was to be thus with Walpole. 

{185}

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

"AND WHEN HE FALLS----"

[Sidenote: 1741--Motions against Walpole]

Walpole soon found that his enemies were no less bitter against him, noless resolute to harass and worry him, now that he had stooped to betheir instrument and do their work. Every unsuccessful movement in thewar was made the occasion of a motion for papers, a motion for aninquiry, a vote of want of confidence, or some other direct or indirectattack upon the Prime-minister. In the House of Lords, Lord Carteretwas especially unsparing, and was brilliantly supported by LordChesterfield. In the House of Commons, Samuel Sandys, a clever andrespectable country gentleman from Worcestershire, made himself quite asort of renown by his motions against Walpole. On Friday, February 13, 1741, a motion was made in each of the Houses of Parliament calling onthe King "to remove the Right Honorable Sir Robert Walpole, Knight ofthe most noble Order of the Garter, First Commissioner for executingthe office of Treasurer of the Exchequer, Chancellor andUnder-Treasurer of the Exchequer, and one of his Majesty's mosthonorable Privy Council, from his Majesty's presence and councilsforever. " In the House of Lords the motion was made by Lord Carteret;in the House of Commons by Mr. Sandys, who was nicknamed "themotion-maker. " The motion was lost by a large majority in the House ofLords; and in the House of Commons there were only 106 for it, whilethere were 290 against it. This was a victory; but it did not deceiveWalpole. There would soon be a new Parliament, and Walpole knew verywell that the country was already growing sick of the unmeaning war, and that he was held {186} responsible alike for the war policy whichhe had so long opposed, and the many little disasters of the war withwhich he had nothing to do. In Walpole's utter emergency he actuallyauthorized a friend to apply for him to James Stuart at Rome, in thehope of inducing James to obtain for him the support of some of theJacobites at the coming elections. What he could possibly have thoughthe could promise James in return for the solicited support it is hard, indeed, to imagine; for no one can question the sincerity of Walpole'sattachment to the reigning House. Perhaps if James had consented to gointo the negotiations Walpole might have made some pledges about theEnglish Catholics. Nothing came of it, however. James did not seem totake to the suggestion, and Walpole was left to do the best he couldwithout any helping hand from Rome. Lord Stanhope thinks it notunlikely that King George was fully aware of this curious attempt toget James Stuart to bring his influence to bear on the side of Walpole. The elections were fought out with unusual vehemence of partisanship, even for those days, and the air was thick with caricatures of Walpoleand lampoons on his policy and his personal character. When theelection storm was over, it was found that the Ministry had distinctlylost ground. In Scotland and in parts of the west of England the losswas most manifest. Walpole now was as well convinced as any of hisenemies could be that the fall was near. He must have felt like somedesperate duellist, who, having fought his fiercest and his best, isconscious at last that his strength is gone; that he is growing fainterand fainter from loss of blood; and conscious, too, that his antagonistalready perceives this and exults in the knowledge, and is alreadyseeking out with greedy eye for the best place in which to give thefinal touch of the rapier's point. 

The new Parliament met on December 1, 1741, and re-elected Mr. Onslowas Speaker. The speech from the throne was almost entirely taken upwith somewhat cheerless references to the war with Spain, and thedebate on {187} the address was naturally made the occasion for newattacks on the policy of the Government. "Certainly, my Lords, " saidChesterfield, "it is not to be hoped that we should regain what we havelost but by measures different from those which have reduced us to ourpresent state, and by the assistance of other counsellors than thosewho have sunk us into the contempt and exposed us to the ravages ofevery nation throughout the world. " This was the string that had beenharped upon in all the pamphlets and letters of the Patriots during theprogress of the war. Walpole had done it all; Walpole had delayed thewar to gratify France; he had prevented the war from being carried onvigorously in order to assist France; he had obtained a majority inParliament by the most outrageous and systematic corruption; he was anenemy of his country, and so forth. All these charges and allegationswere merely founded on Walpole's public policy. They simply came tothis, that a certain course of action taken by Walpole, with theapproval of Parliament, was declared by Walpole to have been taken frompatriotic motives and for the good of England, and was declared by hisenemies to have been taken from unpatriotic motives and in the interestof France. It was of no avail for Walpole to point out that everythinghe had done thus far had been done with the approval of the House ofCommons. The answer was ready: "Exactly; and there is another of yourcrimes: you bribed and corrupted every former House of Commons. "

[Sidenote: 1742--Pulteney's attempt to refer]

On January 21, 1742, Pulteney brought forward a motion to refer all thepapers concerning the war, which had just been laid on the table, to aselect committee of the House, in order that the committee shouldexamine the papers, and report to the House concerning them. This wassimply a motion for a committee of inquiry into the manner in whichministers were carrying on the war. The House was the fullest that hadbeen known for many years. Pulteney had 250 votes with him; Walpolehad only 253--a majority of three. Some of the efforts made {188} onboth sides to bring up the numbers on this occasion remind one ofHogarth's picture of the "Polling Day, " where the paralytic, themaimed, the deaf, and the dying are carried up to record their vote. Men so feeble from sickness that they could not stand were brought downto the House wrapped up like mummies, and lifted through the division. Walpole seems to have surpassed himself in the speech which he made inhis own defence. At least such is the impression we get from thedeclaration of some of those who heard it, Pulteney himself among therest. Pulteney always sat near to Walpole on the Treasury bench;Pulteney, of course, not admitting that he had in any way changed hispolitical principles since Walpole and he were friends and colleagues. Pulteney offered to Walpole his warm congratulations on his speech, andadded, "Well, nobody can do what you can. " Pulteney might afford to begracious. The victory of three was a substantial defeat. It was theprologue to a defeat which was to be formal as well as substantial. The Patriots were elated. The fruit of their long labors was about tocome at last. 

All this was telling hard upon Walpole's health. We get melancholyaccounts of the cruel work which his troubles were making with thatframe which once might have seemed to be of iron. The robust animalspirits which could hardly be kept down in former days had now changedinto a mournful and even a moping temperament. His son, HoraceWalpole, gives a very touching picture of him in these decaying years. "He who was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow--for I havefrequently known him snore ere they had drawn his curtains--now neversleeps above an hour without waking; and he who at dinner always forgothe was minister, and was more gay and thoughtless than all the company, now sits without speaking, and with his eyes fixed for an hourtogether. " Many of his friends implored him to give up the hopelessand thankless task. Walpole still clung to office; still tried newstratagems; planned new combinations; racked {189} his brain for newdevices. He actually succeeded in inducing the King to have an offermade to the Prince of Wales of an addition of fifty thousand pounds ayear to his income, provided that Frederick would desist fromopposition to the measures of the Government. The answer was whatevery one--every one, surely, but Walpole, must have expected. Theprince professed any amount of duty to his father, but as regardsWalpole he was implacable. He would listen to no terms of compromisewhile the great enemy of himself and of his party remained in office. 

[Sidenote: 1742--"The thanes fly from me!"]

The Duke of Newcastle had notoriously turned traitor to Walpole. LordWilmington, whose "evaporation" as Sir Spencer Compton marked Walpole'sfirst great success under George the Second, was approached by some ofWalpole's enemies, and besought to employ his influence with the Kingto get Walpole dismissed. It is said that even Lord Hervey now beganto hold aloof from him. It was only a mere question of time and thehour. Walpole's enemies were already going about proclaiming theirdetermination not to be satisfied with merely turning him out ofoffice; he must be impeached and brought to condign punishment. Walpole's friends--those of them who were left--made this anotherreason for imploring him to resign. They pleaded that by a timelyresignation he might at least save himself from the peril of animpeachment. Walpole showed a determination which had much that waspitiable and something that was heroic about it. He would notfly--bear-like, he would fight the course. 

The final course soon came. The battle was on a petition from thedefeated candidates for Chippenham, who claimed the seats on the groundof an undue election and return. Election petitions were then heardand decided by the House of Commons itself, and not by a committee ofthe House, as in more recent days. The decision of the House wasalways simply a question of party; and no one had ever insisted morestrongly than Walpole himself that it must be a question of party. TheGovernment desired the Chippenham petition to succeed. On somedisputed {190} point the Opposition prevailed over the Government by amajority of one. It is always said that Walpole then at once made uphis mind to resign; and that the knowledge of his intention put suchheart into those who were falling away from him as to bring about themarked increase which was presently to take place in the majorityagainst him. We are inclined to think that he even still hesitated, and that his hesitation caused the increase in the hostile majority. He must go--he has to go--people said; and the sooner we make thisclear to him the better. Anyhow, the end was near. The Chippenhamelection was carried against him by a majority of sixteen--241 votesagainst 225. A note at the bottom of the page of the ParliamentaryDebates for that day says: "The Chippenham election being thus carriedin favor of the sitting members, it was reported that Sir RobertWalpole publicly declared he would never enter the House of Commonsmore. " This was on February 2, 1742. Next day the Lord Chancellorsignified the pleasure of the King that both Houses of Parliamentshould adjourn until the eighteenth of the month. Everybody knew whathad happened. The long administration of twenty years was over; thegreat minister had fallen, never to lift his head again. TheParliamentary record thus tells us what had happened: "The same eveningthe Right Honorable Sir Robert Walpole resigned his place of FirstCommissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor and Under-Treasurer of theExchequer, which he had held ever since April 4, 1721, in the former ofwhich he succeeded the Earl of Sunderland, and in the latter Mr. Aislabie. "

That, however, was not the deepest depth of the fall. The same recordannounces that "three days afterwards his Majesty was pleased to createhim Earl of Orford, Viscount Walpole, and Baron of Houghton. ""Posterity, " says Macaulay, "has obstinately refused to degrade FrancisBacon into Viscount St. Albans. " Posterity has in like mannerobstinately refused to degrade Robert Walpole into the Earl of Orford. He will be known {191} as Robert Walpole so long as English historyitself is known. 

[Sidenote: 1742--The new Administration]

Walpole, then, was on the ground--down in the dust--never to riseagain. Surely it would seem the close of his career as aPrime-minister must be the opening of that of his rival and conqueror. Any one now--supposing there could be some one entirely ignorant ofwhat did really happen--would assume, as a matter of course, thatPulteney would at once become Prime-minister and proceed to form anadministration. This was naturally in Pulteney's power. But Pulteneysuddenly remembered having said long ago that he would accept nooffice, and he declared that he would positively hold to his word. Ata moment of excitement, it would seem, and stung by some imputation ofself-seeking, Pulteney had adopted the high Roman fashion, andannounced that he would prove his political disinterestedness byrefusing to accept any office in any administration. The Kingconsulted Walpole during all these arrangements, and Walpole stronglyrecommended him to offer the position of Prime-minister to LordWilmington. Time had come round indeed--this was the Sir SpencerCompton for whom King George at his accession had endeavored to thrustaway Walpole, but whom Walpole had quietly thrust away. He was anutterly incapable man. Walpole probably thought that it would ruin thenew administration in the end if it were to have such a man as Compton, now Lord Wilmington, at its head. Lord Wilmington accepted theposition. Lord Carteret had desired the post for himself, but Pulteneywould not hear of it. The office of Secretary of State--of theSecretary of State who had to do with foreign affairs--was the properplace, he insisted, for a man like Carteret. The secretaries thendivided their functions into a Northern department and a Southerndepartment. The Northern department was concerned with the charge ofRussia, Prussia, Germany, Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Poland, and Saxony;the Southern department looked after France, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Switzerland, Turkey, {192} and the States along the southern shore ofthe Mediterranean. So Carteret became one secretary, and the grotesqueDuke of Newcastle remained the other. The duke's brother, HenryPelham, remained in his place as Paymaster, Lord Hardwicke retained hisoffice as Lord Chancellor, and Mr. Samuel Sandys, who had moved theresolution calling for Walpole's dismissal, took Walpole's place asChancellor of the Exchequer. There seems some humor in the appointmentof such a man as successor to Robert Walpole. 

[Sidenote: 1742--The combined four]

Then Pulteney's career as a great Prime-minister is not beginning?No--not beginning--never to begin. By one of the strangest strokes offate the events which closed the career of Walpole closed the career ofPulteney too. Yet but a few months, and Pulteney ceases as completelyas Walpole has done to move the world of politics. The battle is overand the rival leaders have both fallen. One monument might suffice forboth, like that for Wolfe and Montcalm at Quebec. Pulteney was offereda peerage, an offer which he had contemptuously rejected twice before. He accepted it now. It will probably never be fully and certainlyknown why he committed this act of political suicide. Walpole appearsto have been under the impression that it was by his cleverness theKing had been prevailed upon to drive Pulteney into the House of Lords. Walpole, indeed, very probably made the suggestion to the King, and nodoubt had as his sole motive in making it the desire to consignPulteney to obscurity; but it does not seem as if his was the influencewhich accomplished the object. Lord Carteret and the Duke of Newcastleboth hated Pulteney, who as cordially hated them. Newcastle wasjealous of Pulteney because of his immense influence in the House ofCommons, which he fancied must be in some sort of way an injury tohimself and his brother; and, stupid as he was, he felt certain that ifPulteney consented to enter the House of Lords the popularity and theinfluence would vanish. Carteret's was a more reasonable if not a morenoble jealousy. He was determined to come {193} to the head of affairshimself--to be Prime-minister in fact if not in name; and he fearedthat he never could be this so long as Pulteney remained, what some onehad called him, the Tribune of the Commons. Once get him into theHouse of Lords and there was an end to the tribune and the tribune'scareer. As for himself, Carteret, he would then be able to domineerover both Houses by his commanding knowledge of foreign affairs, now ofsuch paramount importance to the State, and by his entire sympathy withthe views of the King. The King hated Pulteney--had never forgiven himhis championship of the Prince of Wales--and would be delighted to seehim reduced to nothingness by a removal to the House of Lords. But ifit was plain alike to such men of intellect as Walpole and Carteret, and to such stupid men as King George and the Duke of Newcastle, thatremoval to the House of Lords would mean political extinction forPulteney, how is it that no thought of the kind seems to have enteredinto the mind of Pulteney himself? Even as a question of the purestpatriotism, such a man as Pulteney, believing his own policy to be forthe public good, ought to have sternly refused to allow himself to beforced into any position in which his public influence must bediminished or destroyed. As regarded his personal interests and hisfame, Pulteney must have had every motive to induce him to remain inthe House where his eloquence and his debating power had won him such aplace. It is impossible to believe that he could have been alluredjust then, at the height of his position and his renown, by the baubleof a coronet which he had twice before refused--contemptuously refused. Probably the real explanation may be found in the fact that Pulteney, for all his fighting capacity, was not a strong but a weak man. Probably he was, like Goethe's Egmont, brilliant in battle but weak incouncil. All unknown to himself, four men, each man possessed of anovermastering power of will, were combined against him for a singlepurpose--to drive him into the House of Lords--that is, to drive himout of the {194} House of Commons. His enemies prevailed against him. As Lord Chesterfield put it, he "shrank into insignificance and anearldom. " We are far from saying that a man might not be a goodminister and a statesman of influence after having accepted a seat inthe House of Lords. But it was beginning to be found, even inPulteney's time, that the place of a great Prime-minister is in theHouse of Commons; and certainly the place of a tribune of the peoplecan hardly be the House of Lords. Pulteney was born for the House ofCommons: transplantation meant death to a genius like his. When thenews of his "promotion" became public, a wild outcry of anger anddespair broke from his population of admirers. He was denounced ashaving committed an act of perfidy and of treason. He had accepted apeerage, it was said, as a bribe to induce him to consent to let RobertWalpole go unimpeached and unpunished. The outcry was quite unjust, but was certainly not unnatural. People wanted some sort ofexplanation of an act which no ordinary reasoning could possiblyexplain. Pulteney's conduct bitterly disappointed the Tory section ofthe Opposition as well as the populace of his former adorersout-of-doors. Bolingbroke, who had hurried back to England, found thatall his dreams of a genuine Coalition Ministry, representing fairlyboth wings of the forces of Opposition, had vanished with the morninglight. Except for the removal of Walpole, hardly any change was madein the composition of recent English administration. The Tories andJacobites, who had helped so signally in the fight, were left out ofthe spoils of victory. Bolingbroke found that he was no nearer topower than he would have been if Walpole still were at the head ofaffairs. Nothing was changed for him; only a stupid man had taken theplace of a statesman. Pulteney appears to have acted very generouslytowards his immediate political colleagues, and to have remained in theHouse of Commons, where he now had all the power, until he had got forthem the places they desired. Then he was gazetted as Earl of Bath;and we {195} have all heard the famous anecdote of the first meeting inthe House of Lords between the man who had been Robert Walpole and theman who had been William Pulteney, and the greeting given by the newLord Orford to the new Lord Bath; "Here we are, my lord, the two mostinsignificant fellows in England. " With these words the first greatleader of Opposition in the House of Commons, the man who may almost besaid to have created the parliamentary part of leader of Opposition, may be allowed to pass out of the political history of his time. 

Many attempts were made to impeach Walpole, as we still must call him. Secret committees of inquiry were moved for. Horace Walpole, _the_Horace Walpole, Sir Robert's youngest son, made his first speech in theHouse of Commons, in defence of his father, against such a motion. Asecret committee was at last obtained, but it did not succeed, althoughcomposed almost altogether of Walpole's enemies, in bringing outanything very startling against him. Public money had been spent, nodoubt, here and there very freely for purely partisan work. Therecould be no question that some of it had gone in political corruption. But everybody had already felt sure that this had been done by allministries and parties. The report of the committee, when it came atlast, was received with cold indifference or unconcealed contempt. 

[Sidenote: 1742-1745--Death of Walpole]

Walpole still kept a good deal in touch with the King. Georgeconsulted him privately, and indeed with much mystery about theconsultations. The King sometimes sent a trusty messenger, who metWalpole at midnight at the house of a friend. It was indeed a summonsfrom George which hastened the great statesman's death. The Kingwished to consult Walpole, and Walpole hurried up from Houghton for thepurpose. The journey greatly increased a malady from which hesuffered, and he was compelled by pain to have recourse to heavy dosesof opium, which kept him insensible for the greater part of every dayduring more than six weeks. When the stupefying effect of the opiumwas not on him--that is, for {196} some two or three hours each day--hetalked with all that former vivacity which of late years seemed to havedeserted him. He knew that the end was coming, and he bore theknowledge with characteristic courage. On March 18, 1745, he died athis London house in Arlington Street. Life could have had of late butlittle charm for him. He had always lived for public affairs and forpower. He had none of the gifts of seclusion. Except for his love ofpictures, he had no in-door intellectual resources. He could not buryhimself in literature as Carteret could do; or, at a later day, CharlesJames Fox; or, at a later day still, Mr. Gladstone. Walpole's lifereally came to an end the day he left the House of Commons; the restwas silence. He was only in his sixty-ninth year when he died. It wasfitting that he should lose his life in striving to assist and counselthe sovereign whose family he more than any other man or set of men hadseated firmly on the throne of England. His faults were many; hispersonal virtues perhaps but few. One great and consummate publicvirtue he certainly had: he was devoted to the interests of hiscountry. In the building of Nelson's ships it was said that the oak ofHoughton Woods excelled all other timber. Oak from the same woods wasused to make musket-stocks for Wellington's soldiers in the long waragainst Napoleon. Walpole's own fibre was something like that of theoaks which grew on his domain. His policy on two of the most eventfuloccasions of his life has been amply justified by history. He wasright in the principles of his Excise Bill; he was right in opposingthe war policy of the Patriots. The very men who had leagued againsthim in both these instances acknowledged afterwards that he was rightand that they were wrong. It was in an evil moment for himself that heyielded to the policy of the Patriots, and tried to carry on a war inwhich he had no sympathy, and from which he had no hope. He was agreat statesman; almost, but not quite, a great man. 

[Sidenote: 1744--Death of Pope]

Not very long before Walpole's death a star of all but {197} the firstmagnitude had set in the firmament of English literature. AlexanderPope died on May 30, 1744, at his house in Twickenham, where "Thames'translucent wave shines a broad mirror, " to use his own famous words. He died quietly; death was indeed a relief to him from pain which hehad borne with a patience hardly to be expected from one of so fitful atemper. Pope's life had been all a struggle against ill-health andpremature decrepitude. He was deformed; he was dwarfish; he wasmiserably weak from his very boyhood; a rude breath of air made himshrink and wither; the very breezes of summer had peril in them for hissingularly delicate constitution and ever-quivering nerves. He was butfifty-six years old when death set him free. Life had been for him asplendid success indeed, but the success had been qualified by muchbitterness and pain. He was sensitive to the quick; he formed strongfriendships, fierce and passionate enmities; and the friendshipsthemselves turned only too often into enmities. Unsparing with thesatire of his pen, he made enemies everywhere. He professed to beindifferent to the world's praise or censure, but he was neverthelessmorbidly anxious to know what people said of him. He was as egotisticas Rousseau or Byron; but he had none of Byron's manly public spirit, and none of Rousseau's exalted love of humanity. Pope's place inEnglish poetry may be taken now as settled. He stands high and standsfirmly in the second class: that is, in the class just belowShakespeare and Milton and a very few others. He has beenextravagantly censured and extravagantly praised. Byron at one timemaintained that he was the greatest English poet, and many vehementarguments have been used to prove that he was not a poet at all. OneEnglish critic believed he had settled the question forever when hedescribed Pope as "a musical rocking-horse. " Again and again the worldhas been told that Pope has disappeared from the sky of literature, butthe world looks up, and behold, there is the star shining just asbefore. Many scholars and many poets have scoffed at his translationsof {198} Homer, but generations of English school-boys have learned tolove the "Iliad" because of the way in which Pope has told them thestory; and as to the telling of a story, the judgment of a school-boysometimes counts for more than the judgment of a sage. Pope's "Iliad"and "Odyssey" are certainly not for those who can read the greatoriginals in their own tongue, or even for those who have a tastestrong and refined enough to enjoy the severe fidelity of a prosetranslation. But Pope has brought the story of Achilles' wrath, andHelen's pathetic beauty, and Hector's fall, and Priam's agony home tothe hearts of millions for whom they would otherwise have no life. Wehave no intention of writing a critical dissertation on the poetry ofPope. One fact may, however, be remarked and recorded concerning it. After Shakespeare, and possibly Milton, no English poet is so muchquoted from as Pope. Lines and phrases of his have passed into thecommon vernacular of our daily life. We talk Pope, many of us, as thetoo-often cited _bourgeois gentilhomme_ of Moličre talked prose, without knowing it. There is hardly a line of "The Rape of the Lock"or "The Dunciad" that has not thus passed into the habitualconversation of our lives. This of itself would not prove that Popewas a great poet, but it is a striking testimony to his extraordinarypopularity, and his style is not that which of itself would seemcalculated to insure popularity. The very smoothness and perfection ofhis verse make it seem to many ears nothing better than a melodiousmonotony. Pope had not imagination enough to be a great poet of thehighest order--the order of creative power. He had marvellous fancy, which sometimes, as in "The Rape of the Lock" and in passages of thefierce "Dunciad, " rose to something like imagination. Every goodChristian ought no doubt to lament that a man of such noble giftsshould have had also such a terrible gift of hate. But even a verygood Christian could hardly help admitting that it must have been allfor the best, seeing that only for that passion of hatred we shouldnever have had "The Dunciad. "

{199}

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"THE FORTY-FIVE. "

[Sidenote: 1720--Birth of "Prince Charlie"]

Thirty years had come and gone since England had been alarmed, irritated, or encouraged, according to the temper of its politicalinhabitants, by a Jacobite rising. The personality of James Stuart, the Old Pretender, was little more than a memory among those clansmenwho had rallied round the royal standard at Braemar. In those thirtyyears James Stuart had lived his melancholy, lonely, evil life ofexile, the hanger-on of foreign courts, the half grotesque, halfpitiable, sham monarch of a sham court, that was always ready to bemoved from place to place, with all its cheaply regal accessaries, likethe company and the properties of some band of strolling players. Nowthere was a new Stuart in the field, a new sham prince, a "YoungPretender. " After the disasters of the Fifteen, James Stuart hadbecome the hero of as romantic a love-story as ever wandering princeexperienced. He had fallen in love, in the hot, unreasoning Stuartway, with the beautiful Clementine Sobieski, and the beautifulClementine had returned the passion of the picturesquely unfortunateprince, and they had carried on their love affairs under conditions ofgreater difficulty than Romeo and Juliet, and had overcome thedifficulties and got married, and in 1720 Clementine had borne to theHouse of Stuart a son and heir. Every precaution was taken to insurethe most public recognition of the existence of the newly born prince. It was determined that none of the perplexity, the uncertainty, thesuspicion, which attended upon the birth of James, should be permittedto arise now. There must be no _haro_ about warming-pans, noaccusations of {200} juggling, no possible doubts as to the right ofthe new-born babe to be regarded as the son of James Stuart and ofClementine Sobieski. The birth took place in Rome, and cardinalsaccredited from all the great Powers of Europe were present on theoccasion to bear witness to it. The city was alive with suchexcitement as it had seldom witnessed since the days when pagan Romebecame papal Rome. The streets in the vicinity of the house whereClementine Sobieski lay in her pain were choked with the gilt carriagesof the proudest Italian nobility; princes of the Church and princes ofroyal blood thronged the antechambers. Gallant gentlemen who bore someof the stateliest names of England and of Scotland waited on thestair-ways for the tidings that a new prince was given unto theirloyalty. Adventurous soldiers of fortune kicked their heels in thecourt-yard, and thought with moistened eyes of the toasts they woulddrink to their future king. From the Castle of St. Angelo, where longago the besieged had hurled upon the besiegers the statues that hadproved the taste of a Roman emperor, where Rienzi lay yesterday, andwhere Cagliostro shall lie to-morrow, thunders of artillery saluted theadvent of the new rose of the House of Stuart. 

In the years that followed, while the young Prince Charles was growingup to his tragic inheritance, it can hardly be maintained, even by themost devoted adherent of the Stuart line, that James showed himself inthe slightest degree worthy of the crown towards which he reached. Indeed, his conduct showed a reckless indifference to the means mostlikely to attain that crown which it is difficult to account for. Wheneverything depended for the success of his schemes upon the friends hemade abroad and the favor he retained at home, he wantonly acted as ifhis dearest purpose was to alienate the one and to wholly lose theother. His conduct towards his wife, and his persistent and stupidfavoritism of the Mar man and woman--especially the woman--drove theinjured and indignant Clementine into a convent, and made the greatEuropean {201} princes of Spain, Germany, and Rome his adversaries. Spain refused him entrance to the kingdom unaccompanied by his wife;the Pope struck him a heavier blow in diminishing by one-half theincome that had hitherto been allowed him from the Papal treasury. Butworse than the loss of foreign friends, worse even than the loss of theSistine subsidy, was the effect which his treatment of his wifeproduced in the countries which he aspired to rule. His wisestfollowers wrote to him that he had done more to injure his cause by hisconduct to Clementine than by anything else in his ill-advised career. At last even James took alarm; his stubborn nature was forced to yield;the obnoxious favorites were dismissed, and a reconciliation of a kindwas effected between the Stuart king and queen. But fidelity was aquality difficult enough for James to practise, and when the Queen diedin 1735 it is said that she found death not unwelcome. 

[Sidenote: 1734-1735--Charles in his first campaign]

In the mean time the young Prince Charles grew up to early manhood. Princes naturally begin the world at an earlier age than most men, andCharles may be said to have begun the world in 1734, when, as we haveseen, at the age of fourteen, he took part in the siege of Gaeta as ageneral of artillery, and bore himself, according to overwhelmingtestimony, as became a soldier. Up to this time his education had beenpursued with something like regularity; and if at all times hepreferred rowing, riding, hunting, and shooting to graver and moresecluded pleasures, he was not in this respect peculiar among youngmen, princes or otherwise. If, too, he never succeeded in overcomingthe difficulties which the spelling of the English language presented, and if his handwriting always remained slovenly and illegible, it mustbe remembered that in that age spelling was not prized as a pre-eminentaccomplishment by exalted persons, and that Charles Stuart could spellquite as well as Marlborough. He knew how to sign his name; and it maybe remarked that though he has passed into the pages of history and thepages of romance as Charles Edward, he himself never signed his {202}name so, but always simply Charles. He was baptized Charles EdwardLouis Philip Casimir, and, like his ancestors before him, he chose hisfirst name as his passport through the world. If he had marched toFinchley, if Culloden had gone otherwise than it did go, if any of themany things that might have happened in his favor had come to pass, hewould have been Charles the Third of England. 

His education was, from a religious point of view, curiously mixed. Hewas intrusted to the especial care of Murray, Mrs. Hay's brother, and aProtestant, much to the grief and anger of his mother. But heprofessed the tenets of the Catholic Church, and satisfied PopeClement, in an interview when the young prince was only thirteen, thathis Catholic education was sound and complete. For the rest, he was agraceful musician, spoke French, Spanish, and Italian as readily asEnglish, and was skilled in the use of arms. As far as the cultivationof mind or body vent, he might fairly be considered to hold his ownwith any of the preceding sovereigns and princes of the House ofStuart. When in 1737 he set out on a kind of triumphal tour of thegreat Italian towns, he was received everywhere with enthusiasm, andeverywhere made the most favorable impression. So successful was thisperformance, so popular did the prince make himself, and so warmly washe received, that the Hanoverian Government took upon itself to beseriously offended, ordered the Venetian ambassador Businiello to leaveLondon, and conveyed to the Republic of Genoa its grave disapproval ofthe Republic's conduct. The zealous energy of Mr. Fane, our envoy atFlorence, saved that duchy from a like rebuke. Mr. Fane insisted sostrongly that no kind of State reception was to be accorded to thetravelling prince that the Grand Duke gave way. Yet the Grand Duke'scuriosity to meet Charles Stuart was so great that he had prevailedupon Fane to allow him to meet the stranger on the footing of a privateindividual; but sudden death carried off the poor Grand Duke before theinterview could take place. 

{203}

[Sidenote: 1734-1737--The omen accepted]

When Charles Stuart, as a general of fourteen, was helping to besiegeGaeta, he had been hailed by Don Carlos as Prince of Wales, and asPrince of Wales he was invariably addressed by those outside the littlecircle of the sham court who wished to please the exiled princes orshow their sympathy with their cause. The young Charles soon began toweary of being Prince of Wales only in name. It seems certain thatfrom a very early age his thoughts were turned to England and theEnglish succession. There is a legend that at Naples once the youngprince's hat blew into the sea, and when some of his companions wishedto put forth in a boat and fetch it back he dissuaded them, saying thatit was not worth while, as he would have to go shortly to England tofetch his hat. The legend is in all likelihood true in so far as itrepresents the bent of the young man's mind. He was sufficientlyintelligent to perceive that masquerading through Italian cities andthe reception of pseudo-royal honors from petty princes were but a poorcounterfeit of the honors that were his, as he deemed, by right divine. So it was only natural that with waxing manhood his eyes and histhoughts turned more often to that England which he had never seen, butwhich, as he had been so often and often assured, was only waiting fora fit opportunity to cast off the Hanoverian yoke and welcome anylineal descendant of the Charleses and the Jameses of beloved memory. 

More than one expedition had been planned, and one expedition haddecisively failed, when in the summer of 1745 Prince Charles sailedfrom Belleisle on board the _Boutelle_, with the _Elizabeth_ as acompanion vessel. He started on this expedition on his ownresponsibility and at his own risk. Murray of Broughton, and otherinfluential Scottish friends, had told him, again and again, that itwould be absolutely useless to come to Scotland without a substantialand well-armed following of at least six thousand troops, and asubstantial sum of money in his pocket. To ask so much was to ask theimpossible. {204} At one time the young prince had believed that Louisthe Fifteenth would find him the men and lend him the money, but in1745 any such hope had entirely left him. He knew now that Louis theFifteenth would do nothing for him; he knew that if he was ever toregain his birthright he must win it with his own wits. It isimpossible not to admire the desperate courage of the young aspirantsetting out thus lightly to conquer a kingdom with only a handful ofmen at his back and hardly a handful of money in his pocket. Judging, too, by the course of events and the near approach which the princemade to success, it is impossible not to accord him considerable praisefor that instinct which makes the great soldier and the greatstatesman, the instinct which counsels when to dare. The very ships inwhich he was sailing he had got hold of, not only without theconnivance, but without the knowledge, of the French Government. Theywere obtained through two English residents at Nantes. On August 2dthe _Boutelle_ anchored off the Hebrides alone. The _Elizabeth_ hadfallen in with an English vessel, the _Lion_, and had been so severelyhandled that she was obliged to return to Brest to refit, carrying withher all the arms and ammunition on which Prince Charles had relied forthe furtherance of his expedition. So here was the claimant to thecrown, friendless and alone, trying his best to derive encouragementfrom the augury which Tullibardine grandiloquently discerned in theflight of a royal eagle around the vessel. Eagle or no eagle, auguryor no augury, the opening of the campaign was gloomy in the extreme. The first clansmen whose aid the prince solicited were indifferent, reluctant, and obstinate in their indifference and reluctance. Macdonald of Boisdale first, and Clanranald of that ilk afterwards, assured the prince, with little ceremony, that without aid, andsubstantial aid, from a foreign Power, in the shape of arms andfighting-men, no clansman would bare claymore in his behalf. But theeloquence and the determination of the young prince won over Clanranaldand the Macdonalds of {205} Kinloch-Moidart; Charles disembarked andtook up his headquarters at Borrodaile farm in Inverness-shire. A kindof legendary fame attaches to the little handful of men who formed hisimmediate following. [Sidenote: 1745--The Seven Men of Moidart] TheSeven Men of Moidart are as familiar in Scottish Jacobite legend as theSeven Champions of Christendom are to childhood. Tullibardine; SirThomas Sheridan, the prince's tutor; Francis Strickland, an Englishgentleman; Sir John Macdonald, an officer in the service of Spain;Kelly, a non-juring clergyman; Buchanan, the messenger, and AeneasMacdonald, the banker, made up the mystic tale. Among these Seven Menof Moidart, Aeneas Macdonald plays the traitor's part that Ganelonplays in the legends of Charlemagne. He seems to have been actuated, from the moment that the prince landed on the Scottish shore, by theone desire to bring his own head safely out of the scrape, and toattain that end he seems to have been ready to do pretty well anything. When he was finally taken prisoner he saved himself by the readinessand completeness with which he gave his evidence. No more of him. There were, happily for the honor of the adherents of the House ofStuart, few such followers in the Forty-five. 

The position of the young prince was peculiar. His engaging mannershad won over many of the chiefs; his presence had set on fire that oldStuart madness which a touch can often kindle in wild Highland hearts;his determination to be a Scotchman among Scotchmen, a determinationwhich set him the desperate task of trying to master the Gaelic speech, insured his hold upon the affections of the rude chivalry whom hispresence and his name had already charmed. But some of the greatestclans absolutely refused to come in. Macdonald of Sleat, and Macleodof Macleod, would have none of the "pretended Prince of Wales" and his"madmen. "

Though these chieftains were appealed to again and again, they wereresolute in their refusal to embark in the Stuart cause. They pledgedthemselves to the House of Hanover, they accepted commissions in theroyal army; {206} the cause of Charles Stuart must sink or swim withoutthem. With them or without them, however, Charles was going on. Thenumber of clans that had come in was quite sufficient to fill him withhope; the little brush at Spean's Bridge between two companies of theScots Royal, under Captain Scott, and the clansmen of Keppoch andLochiel, had given the victory to the rebels. The Stuarts had drawnfirst blood successfully, and the superstitions saw in the circumstanceyet another augury of success. The time was now ripe for action. Allover the north of Scotland the Proclamation of Prince Charles wasscattered. This proclamation called upon all persons to recognizetheir rightful sovereign in the young prince's person as regent for hisfather, invited all soldiers of King George, by offers of increasedrank or increased pay, to desert to the Stuart colors, promised a freepardon and full religious liberty to all who should renounce theirallegiance to the usurper, and threatened all who, after due warning, remained obdurate with grave pains and penalties. Everywhere throughthe west this document had been seen and studied, had inflamed men'sminds, and set men's pulses dancing to old Jacobite tunes. InEdinburgh, in Berwick, in Carlisle, copies had been seen by astonishedadherents of the House of Stuart, who were delighted or dismayed, according to their temperaments. Scotland was pretty well aware of thepresence of the young prince by the time that it was resolved to unfurlthe flag. 

[Sidenote: 1745--An auspicious opening]

The royal standard of crimson and white was raised by Tullibardine onAugust 19th in the vale of Glenfinnan, in the presence of Keppoch andLochiel, Macdonald of Glencoe, Stuart of Appin, and Stuart of Ardshiel, and their clansmen. No such inauspicious omen occurred as that whichshook the nerves of the superstitious when James Stuart gave his bannerto the winds of Braemar a generation earlier. Indeed, an invadingprince could hardly wish for happier conditions under which to beginhis enterprise. Not only was he surrounded by faithful clansmen, prepared to do or die for the heir to the House of Stuart, but the{207} stately ceremony of setting up the royal standard was witnessedby English prisoners, the servants and the soldiers of King George, thefirst-fruits of the hoped-for triumph over the House of Hanover. "Go, sir, " Charles is reported to have said to one of his prisoners, CaptainSwetenham, "go and tell your general that Charles Stuart is coming togive him battle. " That clement of the theatrical which has always hungabout the Stuart cause, and which has in so large a degree given it itsabiding charm, was here amply present. For a royal adventurer settingout on a crusade for a kingdom the opening chapter of the enterprisewas undoubtedly auspicious reading. 

{208}

CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE MARCH SOUTH. 

[Sidenote: 1715-1716--The chances in his favor]

The condition of Scotland at the time of the prince's landing was suchas in a great degree to favor a hostile invasion. Even educatedEnglishmen then knew much less about Scotland, or at least theHighlands of Scotland, than their descendants do to-day of CentralAfrica. People--the few daringly adventurous people--who ventured totravel in the Highlands were looked upon by their admiring friends asthe rivals of Bruce or Mandoville, and they wrote books about theirtravels as they would have done if they had travelled in Thibet; andvery curious reading those books are now after the lapse of somethingover a century. The whole of the Highlands were wild, unfrequented, and desolate, under the rude jurisdiction of the heads of the greatHighland houses, whose clansmen, as savage and as desperatelycourageous as Sioux or Pawnees, offered their lords an almostidolatrous devotion. Nominally the clans were under the authority ofthe English Crown and the Scottish law; actually they recognized norule but the rule of their chiefs, who wielded a power as despotic asthat of any feudal seigneur in the days of the old régime. The heroesof the Ossianic poems--the Finns and Dermats whom colonization hadtransplanted from Irish to Scottish legend--were not more unfettered ormore antiquely chivalrous than the clansmen who boasted of theirdescent from them. Scotland was more unlike England in the middle ofthe last century than Russia is unlike Sicily to day. 

There were several things in Charles's favor. To begin with, thedisarmament of the clans, which had been insisted {209} upon after "theFifteen, " had been carried out in such a fashion as was now to provemost serviceable to the Young Pretender; for the only clans that hadbeen really disarmed were the Mackays, Campbells, and Sutherlands, whowere loyal enough to the House of Hanover, and gave up their weaponsvery readily to prove their loyalty. But the other clans--the clansthat ever cherished the lingering hope of a Stuart restoration--werenot in reality disarmed at all. They made a great show of surrenderingto General Wade weapons that were utterly worthless as weapons of war, honey-combed, crippled old guns and swords and axes; but the good gunsand swords and axes, the serviceable weapons, these were all carefullystowed away in fitting places of concealment, ready for the hour whenthey might be wanted again. That hour had now come. So that, thanksto the Disarming Act of 1716, the Government found its chief allies inthe north of Scotland practically defenceless and unarmed, while theclans that kept pouring in to rally around the standard of the younginvader were as well armed as any of those who had fought so stoutly atSheriffmuir. Yet another advantage on the adventurer's side was due tothe tardiness with which news travelled in those times. Charles hadbeen for many days in the Highlands, preparing the way for the rising, before rumors of anything like an accredited kind came to the Court ofSt. James. The Highlands and islands of Scotland were then so farremoved from the great world of government that it had taken somethinglike half a year on one occasion before the dwellers in the stormyShetlands had learned that their sovereign, King William the Third, wasdead and buried; and in the years that had elapsed since William ofOrange passed away the means of communication between London and thefar north were little if at all better. Charles had actually raisedhis standard and rallied clan after clan around him before theGovernment in London could seriously believe that a Stuart in arms wasin the island. There were other and minor elements of success, too, tobe noted in the great game that the Stuart prince {210} was playing. The Ministry was unpopular: the head of that Ministry was the imbecileDuke of Newcastle, perhaps the most contemptible statesman who has evermade high office ridiculous. The King was away in Hanover. Englandwas in the toils of a foreign war, and her prestige had lately sufferedheavily from the sudden defeat at Fontenoy. There were very few troopsin England to employ against an invasion, and the Scottishcommander-in-chief, Sir John Cope, whose name lives in unenviable famein the burden of many a Jacobite ballad, was as incapable awell-meaning general as ever was called upon to face a great unexpectedemergency. It must be admitted that all these were excellent points inthe prince's favor, and that they counted for much in the conduct ofthe campaign. 

From the first, young Charles Stuart might well have come to regardhimself as the favorite of fortune. The history of the Forty-fivedivides itself into two distinct parts: the first a triumphant recordof brilliant victories, and the picture of a young prince marchingthrough conquest after conquest to a crown; the second part prefaced bya disastrous resolution, leading to overwhelming defeat, and ending inignominious flight and the extinction of the last Stuart hope. Fromthe moment when the Stuart standard fluttered its folds of white andcrimson on the Highland wind it seemed as if the Stuart luck hadturned. Charles might well conceive himself happy. Upon his sword satlaurel victory. Smooth success was strewn before his feet. Theblundering and bewildered Cope actually allowed Charles and his army toget past him. Cope was neither a coward nor a traitor, but he was aterrible blunderer, and while the English general was marching uponInverness Charles was triumphantly entering Perth. From Perth theyoung prince, with hopeless, helpless Cope still in his rear, marchedon Edinburgh. 

[Sidenote: 1745--The advance of the clans]

The condition of Edinburgh was peculiar: although a large proportion ofits inhabitants, especially those who were well-to-do, were stanchsupporters of the House of Hanover, there were plenty of Jacobites inthe place, and {211} it only needed the favor of a few victories tobring into open day a great deal of latent Jacobitism that was for themoment prudently kept under by its possessors. The Lord Provosthimself was more than suspected of being a Jacobite at heart. The citywas miserably defended. Such walls as it possessed were moreornamental than useful, and in any case were sadly in want of repair. All the military force it could muster to meet the advance of the clanswas the small but fairly efficient body of men who formed the TownGuard; the Train Bands, some thousand strong, who knew no more than somany spinsters of the division of a battle; the small and undisciplinedEdinburgh regiment; and a scratch collection of volunteers hurriedlyraked together from among the humbler citizens of the town, and aboutas useful as so many puppets to oppose to the daring and the ferocityof the clans. Edinburgh opinion had changed very rapidly with regardto that same daring and ferocity. When the first rumors of theprince's advance were bruited abroad, the adherents of the House ofHanover in Edinburgh made very merry over the gang of ragged rascals, hen-roost robbers, and drunken rogues upon whom the Pretender relied inhis effort to "enjoy his ain again. " But as the clans came nearer andnearer, as the air grew thicker with flying rumors of the successesthat attended upon the prince's progress, as the capacity of the townseemed weaker for holding out, and as the prospect of reinforcementsseemed to grow fainter and fainter, the opinion of Hanoverian Edinburghconcerning the clans changed mightily. Had the Highlanders been a raceof giants, endowed with more than mortal prowess, and invulnerable asAchilles, they could hardly have struck more terror into the hearts ofloyal and respectable Edinburgh citizens. 

Still there were some stout hearts in Edinburgh who did their best tokeep up the courage of the rest and to keep out the enemy. AndrewFletcher and Duncan Forbes were of the number. M'Laurin, themathematician, turned his genius to the bettering of thefortifications. Old {212} Dr. Stevenson, bedridden but heroic, keptguard in his armchair for many days at the Netherbow Gate. The greatquestion was would Cope come in time? Cope was at Aberdeen. Cope hadput his army upon transports. Cope might be here to-morrow, the dayafter to-morrow, to-day, who knows? But in the mean time the King'sDragoons, whom Cope had left behind him when he first started out tomeet the Pretender, had steadily and persistently retreated before theHighland advance. They had now halted--they can hardly be said to havemade a stand--at Corstorphine, some three miles from Edinburgh, andhere it was resolved to do something to stay the tide of invasion. Hamilton's Dragoons were at Leith. These were ordered to join theKing's Dragoons at Corstorphine, and to collect as many Edinburghvolunteers as they could on their way. Inside the walls of Edinburghit was easy enough to collect volunteers, and quite a little army ofthem marched out with drums beating and colors flying at the heels ofHamilton's Dragoons. But on the way to the town gates the temper ofthe volunteers changed, and by the time that the town gates werereached and passed the volunteers had dwindled to so pitiable a handfulthat they were dismissed, and Hamilton's Dragoons proceeded alone tojoin Cope's King's Dragoons at Corstorphine. 

But the united force of dragoons did not stay long at Corstorphine. The fame of the fierce Highlanders had unhinged their valor, and itonly needed a few of the prince's supporters to ride within pistol-shotand discharge their pieces at the Royal troops to set them into asdisgraceful a panic as ever animated frightened men. The dragoons, ludicrously unmanned, turned tail and rode for their lives, rodewithout drawing bridle and without staying spur till they came toLeith, paused there for a little, and then, on some vague hint that theHighlanders were on their track, they were in the saddle again andriding for their lives once more. Dismayed Edinburgh citizens saw themsweep along what now is Prince's Street, a pitiable sight; saw them, bloody with spurring, fiery hot with {213} haste, ride on--on into thedarkness. On and on the desperate cowards scampered, sheep-like intheir shameful fear, till they reached Dunbar and behind its gatesallowed themselves to breathe more freely, and to congratulatethemselves upon the dangers they had escaped. Such is the story of thefamous, or infamous, "Cantor of Coltbrigg, " one of the most disgracefulrecords of the abject collapse of regular troops before the terror ofan almost unseen foe that are to found in history. Well might loyalEdinburgh despair if such were its best defenders. The town was alltumult, the Loyalists were in utter gloom, the secretly exultingJacobites were urging the impossibility of resistance, and thenecessity for yielding while yielding was still an open question. 

[Sidenote: 1745--Edinburgh parleys]

On the top of all this came a summons from the prince demanding theimmediate surrender of the city. A deputation was at once despatchedto Gray's Mill, where the prince had halted, to confer with him. Scarcely had the deputation gone when rumor spread abroad in the townthat Cope, Cope the long expected, the almost given up, was actuallyclose at hand, and the weathercock emotions of the town veered to a newquarter. Perhaps they might be able to hold out after all. The greatthing was to gain time. The deputation came back to say that PrinceCharles must have a distinct answer to his summons before two o'clockin the morning, and it was now ten at night. Still spurred by the hopeof gaining time, and allowing Cope to arrive, if, indeed, he werearriving, the deputation was sent back again. But the prince refusedto see them, and the deputation returned to the city, and allunconsciously decided the fate of Edinburgh. Lochiel and Murray, withsome five hundred Camerons, had crept close to the walls under thecover of the darkness of the night, in the hope of finding some meansof surprising the city. Hidden close by the Netherbow Port, they sawthe coach which had carried the deputation home drive up and demandadmittance. The admittance, which was readily granted to the coach, could not well be refused to the {214}

Highlanders, who leaped up the moment the doors were opened, overpowered the guard, and entered the town. Edinburgh awoke in themorning to find its doubts at an end. It was in the hands of theHighlanders. 

Jacobite Edinburgh went wild with delight over its hero prince. Heentered Holyrood with the white rose in his bonnet and the star ofSaint Andrew on his breast, through enthusiastic crowds that foughteagerly for a nearer sight of his face or the privilege of touching hishand. The young prince looked his best; the hereditary melancholywhich cast its shadow over the faces of all the Stuarts was for themoment dissipated. Flushed with easy triumph, popular applause, andgrowing hope, the young prince entered the palace of his ancestors likea king returning to his own. James Hepburn of Keith, with drawn sword, led the way; beautiful women distributed white cockades to enrapturedJacobites; the stateliest chivalry of Scotland made obeisance to itsrightful prince. The intoxicating day ended with a great ball at thepalace, at which the youthful grace of Charles Stuart confirmed thecharm that already belonged to the adventurous and victorious Prince ofWales. September 17, 1745, was one of the brightest days in the Stuartcalendar. 

The conquest of Edinburgh was but the prelude to greater glories. Copewas rallying his forces at Dunbar--was marching to the relief ofEdinburgh. Charles, acting on the advice of his generals, marched outto meet him. Cope's capacity for blundering was by no means exhausted. He affected a contemptuous disregard for his foes, delayed attack indefiance of the advice of his wisest generals, was taken unawares inthe gray morning of the 21st at Prestonpans, and routed completely andignominiously in five minutes. 

[Sidenote: 1745--Bore the news of his own defeat]

Seldom has it been the misfortune of an English general to experienceso thorough, so humiliating a defeat. The wild charges of the Highlandmen broke up the ordered ranks of the English troops in hopelessconfusion; almost all the infantry was cut to pieces, and the cavalry{215} escaped only by desperate flight. Cope's dragoons wereaccustomed to flight by this time; the clatter of their horses' hoofsas they cantered from Coltbrigg was still in their cars, and as theyonce again tore in shameless flight up the Edinburgh High Street theymight well have reflected upon the rapidity with which such experiencesrepeated themselves. General Preston of the Castle refused to admitthe cowards within his gate, so there was nothing for them but to turntheir horses' heads again and spur off into the west country. As forCope, he managed to collect some ragged remnant of his ruined armyabout him, and to make off with all speed to Berwick, where he wasreceived by Lord Mark Ker with the scornful assurance that he was thefirst commander-in-chief in Europe who had brought with him the news ofhis own defeat. 

The victorious army were unable, if they had wished, to follow up theflight, owing to their lack of cavalry. They remained on the field toascertain their own losses and to count their spoil. The losses weretrifling, the gain was great. Only thirty Highlanders were killed, only seventy wounded, in that astonishing battle. As for the gain, notmerely were the honorable trophies of victory, the colors and thestandards, left in the Highland hands, but the artillery and thesupplies, with some two thousand pounds in money, offered the prince'stroops a solid reward for their daring. It is to the credit of Charlesthat after the fury of attack was over he insisted upon the woundedenemy and the prisoners being treated with all humanity. An incidentis told of him which brings into relief the better qualities of hisrace. One of his officers, pointing to the ghastly field, all strewnwith dead bodies, with severed limbs and mutilated trunks, said to theprince, "Sir, behold your enemies at your feet. " The prince sighed. "They are my father's subjects, " he said, sadly, as he turned away. 

The battle of Prestonpans is enshrined in Jacobite memories as thebattle of Gladsmuir, for a reason very characteristic of the Stuartsand their followers. Some {216} queer old book of prophecies hadforetold, more than a century earlier, that there should be a battle atGladsmuir. The battle of Prestonpans was not fought really onGladsmuir at all: Gladsmuir lies a good mile away from the scene ofCharles's easy triumph and Cope's inglorious rout; but for enthusiasticJacobite purposes it was near enough to seem an absolute fulfilment ofthe venerable prediction. A battle was to be fought at Gladsmuir; goto, then--a battle was fought at Gladsmuir, or near Gladsmuir, which isvery much the same thing: anyhow, not very far away from Gladsmuir. And so the Jacobites were contented, and more than ever convinced ofthe advantages of prophecy in the affairs of practical politics. 

Some busy days were passed in Edinburgh in which councils of waralternated with semi-regal entertainments, and in which the princeemployed his ready command of language in paying graceful complimentsto the pretty women who wore the white cockade, and in issuingproclamations in which the Union was dissolved and religious libertypromised. One thing the young prince could not be induced to do: noneof the arguments of his councillors could prevail upon him to threatensevere measures against the prisoners fallen into his hands. It wasurged that unless the Government treated their prisoners as prisonersof war and not as rebels, the prince would be well advised to retaliateby equal harshness to the captives in his power. But on this point theprince was obdurate. He would not take in cold blood the lives that hehad saved in the heat of action. Then and all through this meteoriccampaign the conduct of Charles was characterized by a sincerehumanity, which stands out in startling contrast with the crueltiespractised later by his enemy, the "butcher Cumberland. " It preventedthe prince from gaining an important military advantage by thereduction of Edinburgh Castle. He attempted the reduction of thecastle by cutting off its supplies, but when the general in commandthreatened to open fire upon the town in consequence, Charlesimmediately rescinded the order, although {217} his officers urged thatthe destruction of a few houses, and even the loss of a few lives, wasin a military sense of scant importance in comparison with the captureof so valuable a stronghold as Edinburgh Castle. The prince heldfirmly to his resolve, and Edinburgh Castle remained to the end in thehands of the Royal troops. Charles displayed a great objection, too, to any plundering or lawless behavior on the part of his wild Highlandarmy. We learn from the Bland Burges papers that when the house ofLord Somerville, who was opposed to the prince, was molested by a partyof Highlanders, the prince, on hearing of it, sent an apology to LordSomerville, and an officer's guard to protect him from furtherannoyance. 

[Sidenote: 1745--In the heart of England]

But time was running on, and it was necessary to take action again. England was waking up to a sense of its peril. Armies were gathering. The King had come back from Hanover, the troops were almost allrecalled from Flanders. It was time to make a fresh stroke. Charlesresolved upon the bold course of striking south at once for England, and early in November he marched. He set off on the famous marchsouth. In this undertaking, as before, the same extraordinarygood-fortune attended upon the Stuart arms. His little army of lessthan six thousand men reached Carlisle, reached Manchester, withoutopposition. On December 4th he was at Derby, only one hundred andtwenty-seven miles from London. Once again, by skill or bygood-fortune, he had contrived to slip past the English general sentout to bar his way. Cumberland with his forces was at Stafford, ninemiles farther from the capital than the young prince, who was now onlysix days from the city, with all his hopes and his ambitions ahead ofhim, and behind him the hostile army of the general he had eluded. Never perhaps in the history of warfare did an invader come so near thegoal of his success and throw it so wantonly away; for that is whatCharles did. With all that he had come for apparently within hisreach, he did not reach out to take it; the crown of England was in thehollow of his hand, and he opened his hand {218} and let the prize fallfrom it. It is difficult to understand now what curious madnessprompted the prince's advisers to counsel him as they did, or theprince to act upon their counsels. He was in the heart of England; hewas hard by the capital, which he would have to reach if he was ever tomount the throne of his fathers. He had a devoted army with him--itwould seem as if he had only to advance and to win--and yet, with afatuity which makes the student of history gasp, he actually resolvedto retreat, and did retreat. It is true, and must not be forgotten, that Charles did not know, and could not know, all his advantages; thatmany of the most urgent arguments for advance could not presentthemselves to his mind. He could not know the panic in whichHanoverian London was cast; he could not know that desperate thoughtsof joining the Stuart cause were crossing the craven mind of the Dukeof Newcastle; he could not know that the frightened bourgeoisie weremaking a maddened rush upon the Bank of England; he could not know thatthe King of England had stored all his most precious possessions onboard of yachts that waited for him at the Tower stairs, ready at amoment's notice to carry him off again into the decent obscurity of theElectorship of Hanover. He could not know the exultation of themetropolitan Jacobites; he could not know the perturbation of theHanoverian side; he could not know the curious apathy with which alarge proportion of the people regarded the whole proceeding, peoplewho were as willing to accept one king as another, and who would havewitnessed with absolute unconcern George the Elector scuttling awayfrom the Tower stairs at one end of the town, while Charles the Princeentered it from another. These factors in his favor he did not know, could not know, could hardly be expected even to guess. 

[Sidenote: 1745--How London felt]

That the news of the rising produced very varied emotions in London wemay learn from the letters of Horace Walpole. In one of September 6thto Sir Horace Mann, mixed with much important information concerning"My Lady O" and the Walpole promise of marriage "to young {219}Churchill, " comes news of the Pretender's march past General Cope, andvery gloomy forebodings for the result. Another letter, which talks ofthe Pretender as "the Boy, " and of King George "as the _person_ mostconcerned, " presents the Hanoverian Elector as making very little ofthe invasion, answering all the alarms of his ministers by "Pho, don'ttalk to me of that stuff. " Walpole's spirits has risen within theweek, for he is much amused by the story that "every now and then aScotchman comes and pulls the Boy by the sleeve, 'Preence, here isanother mon taken, ' then, with all the dignity in the world, the Boyhopes nobody was killed in the action. "

London at large vacillated very much as Horace Walpole vacillated. While on the one side Jacobites began to come out of the corners inwhich they had long lain concealed, and to air their opinions in thefree sunlight, rejoicing over the coming downfall of the House ofHanover, authority, on the other hand, busied itself in ordering allknown Papists to leave the capital, in calling out the Train Bands, infrequently and foolishly shutting the gates of Temple Bar, and, whichwas better and wiser, in making use of Mr. Henry Fielding to writestinging satires upon the Pretender and his party, and hint at thesufferings which were likely to fall upon London when the Highlandersimported their national complaint into the capital. A statesman isreported to have said that this disagreeable jest about the itch wasworth two regiments of horse to the cause of the Government. 

Yet, if London was excited, there was a tranquil London as well. Mr. George Augustus Sala, in that brilliant novel of his, "The Adventuresof Captain Dangerous, " draws a vivid picture of this London with thetrue artist touch. "Although from day to day we people in London knewnot whether before the sunset the dreaded pibrochs of the Highlandclans might not be heard at Charing Cross--although, for aught menknew, another month, nay, another week, might see King George theSecond toppled from his throne--yet to those who lived quiet {220}lives and kept civil tongues in their heads all things went on prettymuch as usual. . . . That there was consternation at St. James's, withthe King meditating flight, and the royal family in tears and swooning, did not save the little school-boy a whipping if he knew not his lessonafter morning call. . . . So, while all the public were talking aboutthe rebellion, all the world went nevertheless to the playhouses, wherethey played loyal pieces, and sang 'God save great George, our King'every night; as also to balls, ridottos, clubs, masquerades, drums, routs, concerts, and Pharaoh parties. They read novels and flirtedtheir fans, and powdered and patched themselves, and distended theirpetticoats with hoops, just as though there were no such persons in theworld as the Duke of Cumberland and Charles Edward Stuart. " Fiction, that most faithful and excellent handmaiden of history, here shows usno doubt very vividly what London as a whole thought and did in face ofthe rebellion. It is an old story. Were not the Romans in the theatrewhen the Goths came over the hills? Did not the theatres flourish, never better, during the Reign of Terror?

Nor was London the only place which displayed a well-nigh stoicalindifference to the progress of the rebellion. If Oxford had a gooddeal of Jacobitism hidden decorously away in its ancient colleges, ifthere were a good many disloyal toasts drunk in the seclusion ofscholastic rooms, there was apparently only a feeling of curiousindifference at the rival university, for Gray has put it on recordthat at Cambridge "they had no more sense of danger than if it were thebattle of Cannae, " and we learn that some grave Dons actually werethinking of driving to Camford to see the Scotch troops march past, "asthough they were volunteers out for a sham-fight, or a circusprocession. "

{221}

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

CULLODEN--AND AFTER. 

[Sidenote: 1745--Had he but known]

The prince did not know, and could not know, the exact condition ofthings in the capital; did not know, and could not know, how manyelements of that condition told in his favor, and how many against. But what he could know, what he did know, was this: He was at the headof a devoted army, which if it was small had hitherto found its careermarked by triumph after triumph. He was in the heart of England, andhad already found that the Stuart war-cry was powerful enough to rallymany an English gentleman to his standard. Sir Walter Williams Wynn, whom men called the King of Wales, was on his way to join the Prince ofWales. So was Lord Barrymore, the member of Parliament; so was manyanother gallant gentleman of name, of position, of wealth. Manchesterhad given him the heroic, the ill-fated James Dawson, and a regimentthree hundred strong. Lord James Drummond had landed at Montrose withmen, money, and supplies. The young chevalier's troops were eager toadvance; they were flushed with victories; their hearts were high; theybelieved, in the wild Gaelic way, in the sanctity of their cause; theybelieved that the Lord of Hosts was on their side, and such a beliefstrengthened their hands. For a prince seeking his principality itwould seem that there was one course, and one only, to pursue. Hemight go on and take it, and win the great game he played for; or, failing that, he might die as became a royal gentleman, sword in handand fighting for his rights. The might-have-beens are indeed for themost part a vanity, but we can fairly venture to assert now that {222}if Charles had pushed on he would, for the time at least, have restoredthe throne of England to the House of Stuart. We may doubt, and doubtwith reason, whether any fortuitous succession of events could haveconfirmed the Stuart hold upon the English crown; but we can scarcelydoubt that the hold would have been for the time established, that theOld Pretender would have been King James the Third, and that George theElector would have been posting, bag and baggage, to the rococo shadesof Herrenhausen. But, as we have said, failing that, if Charles hadfallen in battle at the head of his defeated army, how much better thatend would have been than the miserable career which was yet to lend notragic dignity to the prolonged, pitiful, pitiable life of the YoungPretender!

However, for good or evil, the insane decision was made. Charles'scouncil of war were persistent in their arguments for retreat. Therewere thirty thousand men in the field against them. If they weredefeated they would be cut to pieces, and the prince, if he escapedslaughter, would escape it only to die as a rebel on Tower Hill, whereas, if they were once back in Scotland, they would find newfriends, new adherents, and even if they failed to win the Englishcrown, might at least count, with reasonable security, upon convertingScotland, as of old, into a separate kingdom, with a Stuart king on itsthrone. By arguments such as these the prince's officers caused him tothrow away the one chance he had of gaining all that he had crossed theseas to gain. 

It is only fair to remember that the young prince himself was fromfirst to last in favor of the braver course of boldly advancing uponLondon. When his too prudent counsellors told him that if he advancedhe would be in Newgate in a fortnight, he still persisted in pressinghis own advice. Perhaps he thought that where the stake was so great, and the chance of success not too forbidding, failure might as well endin Newgate as in the purlieus of petty foreign courts. But, with theexception of his {223} Irish officers, he had nobody on his side. TheDuke of Perth and Sir John Gordon had a little plan of their own. Theythought that a march into Wales would be a good middle course to adopt, but their suggestion found no backers. All Charles's other counsellorswere to a man in favor of retreat, and Charles, after at firstthreatening to regard as traitors all who urged such a course, at lastgave way. Sullenly he issued the disastrous order to retreat, sullenlyhe rode in the rear of that retreat, assuming the bearing of a man whois no longer responsible for failure. The cheery good-humor, thebright heroism, which had so far characterized him, he had nowcompletely lost, and he rode, a dejected, a despairing, almost a doomedman, among his disheartened followers. It is dreary reading the recordof that retreat; yet it is starred by some bright episodes. At Cliftonthere was an engagement where the retreating Highlanders held theirown, and inflicted a distinct defeat upon Cumberland's army. Again, when they were once more upon Scottish soil, they struck a damagingblow at Hawley's army at Falkirk. But the end came at last on the daywhen the dwindling, discouraged, retreating army tried its strengthwith Cumberland at Culloden. 

[Sidenote: 1746--The Duke of Cumberland]

Men of the Cumberland type are to be found in all ages, and in thehistory of all nations. Men in whom the beast is barely under theformal restraint of ordered society, men in whom a savage sensuality isaccompanied by a savage cruelty, men who take a hideous physicaldelight in bloodshed, darken the pages of all chronicles. It would beunjust to the memory of Cumberland to say that in his own peculiar linehe had many, if any, superiors; that many men are more worthy of thefame which he won. To be remembered with a just loathing as a man bywhom brutalities of all kinds were displayed, almost to the point ofmadness, is not the kind of memory most men desire; it is probably notthe kind of memory that even Cumberland himself desired to leave behindhim. But, if he had cherished the ambition of handing down his name toother times, "linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes, " if {224}he had deliberately proposed to force himself upon the attention ofposterity as a mere abominable monster, he could hardly have acted withmore persistent determination towards such a purpose. In Scotland, forlong years after he was dead and dust, the mention of his name was likea curse; and even in England, where the debt due to his courage countedfor much, no one has been found to palliate his conduct or to whitewashhis infamy. As Butcher Cumberland he was known while he lived; asButcher Cumberland he will be remembered so long as men remember the"Forty-five" and the horrors after Culloden fight. Some of thosehorrors no doubt were due to the wild fury of revenge that alwaysfollows a wild fear. The invasion of the young Stuart had struckterror; the revenge for that terror was bloodily taken. 

[Sidenote: 1746--Culloden]

Everything contributed to make Culloden fatal to the fortunes of thePretender. The discouragement of some of the clans, the disaffectionof others, the wholesale desertions which had thinned the ranks of therebel army, the prince's sullen distrust of his advisers, the positionof the battle-field, the bitter wintry weather, which drove a blindinghail and snow into the eyes of the Highlanders, all these were so manyelements of danger that would have seriously handicapped abetter-conditioned army than that which Charles Stuart was able tooppose to Cumberland. But the prince's army was not well-conditioned;it was demoralized by retreat, hungry, ragged, dizzy with lack ofsleep. Even the terrors of the desperate Highland attack were nolonger so terrible to the English troops. Cumberland had taught hismen, in order to counteract the defence which the target offered to thebodies of the Highlanders, to thrust with their bayonets in a slantingdirection--not against the man immediately opposite to its point, butat the unguarded right side of the man attacking their comrade on theright. 

After enduring for some time the terrible cannonade of the English, thebattle began when the Macintoshes charged with all their old desperatevalor upon the English. {225} But the English were better preparedthan before, and met the onslaught with such a volley as shattered theHighland attack and literally matted the ground with Highland bodies. Then the Royal troops advanced, and drove the rebels in helpless routbefore them. The fortunes of the fight might have gone verydifferently if all the Highlanders had been as true to their cause asthose who formed this attacking right wing. "English gold and Scotchtraitors, " says an old ballad of another fight, "won . . . , but noEnglishman. " To no English gold can the defeat of Culloden beattributed, but unhappily Scotch treason played its part in thedisaster. The Macdonalds had been placed at the left wing of thebattle instead of at the right, which they considered to be theirproper place. Furious at what they believed to be an insult, they tookno part whatever in the fight after they had discharged a singlevolley, but stood and looked on in sullen apathy while the left wingand centre of the prince's army were being whirled into space by theRoyalist advance. The Duke of Perth appealed desperately and in vainto their hearts, reminded them of their old-time valor, and offered, ifthey would only follow his cry of Claymore, to change his name and behenceforward called Macdonald. In vain Keppoch rushed forward almostalone, and met his death, moaning that the children of his tribe haddeserted him. There are few things in history more tragic than thepicture of that inert mass of moody Highlanders, frozen into traitorsthrough an insane pride and savage jealousy, witnessing the ruin oftheir cause and the slaughter of their comrades unmoved, and listeningimpassively to the entreaties of the gallant Perth and the death-groansof the heroic Keppoch. In a few minutes the battle was over, the routwas complete; the rebel army was in full retreat, with a third of itsnumber lying on the field of battle; the Duke of Cumberland was masterof the field, of all the Highland baggage and artillery, of fourteenstands, and more than two thousand muskets. Culloden was fought andwon. 

{226}

It is not necessary to believe the stories that have been told ofCharles Stuart, attributing to him personal cowardice on the fatal dayof Culloden. The evidence in favor of such stories is of theslightest; there is nothing in the prince's earlier conduct to justifythe accusation, and there is sufficient evidence in favor of the muchmore likely version that Charles was with difficulty prevented fromcasting away his life in one desperate charge when the fortune of theday was decided. It is part of a prince's business to be brave, and ifCharles Stuart had been lacking in that essential quality ofsovereignty he could scarcely have concealed the want until the day ofCulloden, or have inspired the clans with the personal enthusiasm whichthey so readily evinced for him. Nor is it necessary for us to followout in full the details of the unhappy young man's miserable flight andfinal escape. Through all those stormy and terrible days, over whichpoetry and romance have so often and so fondly lingered, the fugitivefound that he had still in the season of his misfortune friends asdevoted as he had known in the hours of his triumph. His adventures inwoman's dress, his escape from the English ship, the touching devotionof Flora Macdonald, the loyalty of Lochiel, the fidelity of ClunyMacpherson--all these things have been immortalized in a thousand talesand ballads, and will be remembered in the North Country so long astales and ballads continue to charm. At last, at Lochnanuagh, theprince embarked upon a French ship that had been sent for him, andearly in the October of 1746 he landed in Brittany. 

[Sidenote: 1746--Cumberland's vengeance]

The horrors that followed Culloden suggest more the blood feuds of somesavage tribes than the results of civilized warfare. Cumberland, flushed by a victory that was as unexpected as it was easy, wasresolved to kill, and not to scotch, the snake of Jacobiteinsurrection. The flying rebels were hotly pursued--no quarter wasgiven; the wounded on the field of battle were left cold in theirwounds for two days, and then mercilessly butchered. There is a story, which might well be true, and {227} which tells that as Cumberland wasgoing over the field of dead and dying he saw a wounded Highlanderstaring at him. Cumberland immediately turned to the officer next tohim, and ordered him to shoot the wounded man. The officer, with anhonorable courage and dignity, answered that he would rather resign hiscommission than obey. The officer of the story was the heroic Wolfe, who was afterwards to become a famous general and die gloriously beforeQuebec. It may be true; we may hope that it is, as it adds anotherornament to the historic decoration of a brave man--but history doesnot, so far as we are aware, record the answer that Cumberland made tothis unexpected display of audacious humanity. 

The cruelties of Culloden field were only the preface to the red reignof terror that Cumberland set up in the Highlands. The savage temperof the Royal general found excellent instruments in the savage tempersof his soldiery. Murder, rape, torture, held high carnival; men werehanged or shot on the slightest suspicion or on no suspicion; womenwere insulted, outraged, killed; even children were not safe from theblood-lust of Cumberland's murderers. 

The pacification of the Highlands was accomplished on much the samemethods as were afterwards employed to bring about the pacification ofPoland. Perhaps the most dramatically tragic of all the events afterthe defeat of Charles Stuart are connected with the fate of those ofhis adherents who were taken prisoners, and who were of too grave animportance to be put to the sword at once or hanged out of hand. Some, unhappily, of the followers of the young prince proved themselves to beunworthy of any cause of any monarch. Aeneas Macdonald, John Murray ofBroughton, Lord Elcho, and Macdonald of Barrisdale have left behindthem the infamous memory that always adheres to traitors. Therevelations which John Murray made to save his own life were the meansof sending many a gallant gentleman to Tower Hill. 

In the end of July (of 1746) Westminster Hall was {228} brilliant withscarlet hangings, and crowded with an illustrious company, to witnessthe trial of the three most important of the captured rebels, LordKilmarnock, Lord Cromarty, and Lord Balmerino. Walpole, who went tothat ceremony with the same amused interest that he took in the firstperformance of a new play, has left a very living account of the scene:Lord Kilmarnock, tall, slender, refined, faultlessly dressed, lookingless than his years, which were a little over forty, and inspiring amost astonishing passion in the inflammable heart of Lady Townshend;Lord Cromarty, of much the same age, but of less gallant bearing, dejected, sullen, and even tearful; Balmerino, the very type and modelof a gallant, careless old soldier. 

There was no question of the prisoners' guilt; they were tried, werefound guilty, were sentenced to death. Two of the prisoners had, however, many powerful friends--Kilmarnock and Cromarty; and the charmof Kilmarnock's presence had raised up for him many more friends, whoseinfluence was exerted with the King. For Balmerino nobody seems tohave taken the trouble to plead, and even King George, whose clemencywas not conspicuously displayed in his treatment of his prisoners, appears to have expressed some surprise at this, though he did notallow his regret to carry him so far as to extend his pardon to thestout old soldier. The exertions of Lord Cromarty's friends, andespecially of Lady Cromarty, saved that prisoner's life. It is saidthat when the child which Lady Cromarty bore in her body during theterrible period in which she was pleading for her husband's life cameinto the world, it carried a mark like the stroke of the executioner'saxe upon its neck. Kilmarnock and Balmerino died on Tower Hill onAugust 18, 1746. Both died, as they had lived, like gentlemen andbrave soldiers. It is, perhaps, to be regretted that Kilmarnock shouldon the scaffold have expressed any regret for the part he had played insupporting the Young Pretender against the House of Hanover. He {229}had gone gallantly into the game of insurrection, and he might as wellhave played it out to the end. At least he was the only one of all theseven-and-seventy rebels who were executed, from James Dawson to SimonLovat, who made upon the scaffold any retractation of the acts that hehad done. It is impossible not to contrast Balmerino's dying words, and to like them better than the apologies of Kilmarnock. Balmerinowas no subject of King George; he was his prince's man. "If I had athousand lives I would give them all for him" were his dying words, andbraver dying words were never spoken. It was the old heroic spirit ofabsolute loyalty to the annointed king which was of necessity dyingout; which was to be repeated again half a century later in the hillsand the forests of La Vendee. The Stuarts were as bad, as worthless, as kings could well be, but they did possess the royal prerogative ofinspiring men with an extraordinary devotion. There was something tobe said for the cause which could send a man like Balmerino sogallantly to his death with such a brave piece of soldierly blusterupon his dying lips. 

[Sidenote: 1746--Lord Lovat]

A very different man died for the same cause upon the same scaffold alittle later. History hardly recalls a baser figure than that of SimonFraser (Lord Lovat). He is remembered chiefly as the desperateshuffler and paltry traitor who tried to blow hot and cold, to fawn onHanover with one hand and to beckon the Stuarts with the other. Buthis whole career was of a piece with its paltry ending. His youth andmanhood were characterized by a kind of savage lawlessness, like thatof a Calabrian chieftain brigand or the brave of a Sioux band. He wascruel, he was cunning; he was, in his wild Highland way, a voluptuaryand a debauchee; he was treacherous and hideously selfish. In hisearlier days he had cast his eyes upon a lady, whom, for motives ofworldly advantage as well as for her beauty, he had regarded assuitable to make his wife. Neither the young lady nor the young lady'sfamily would listen to the suit of Captain Fraser, as he then {230}was; whereupon Captain Fraser gathered together a select company ofscoundrels, carried the young lady off by force, very much as Rob Roy'swild son did with the girl of whom he was enamoured, married heragainst her will by force, with the aid of a suborned priest, actually, so the story goes, cutting the clothes off her body with his dirk, while his pipers, in obedience to his orders, drowned the poorcreature's cries with their music. Now, in the eightieth year of hisage, he had come to his grim end. He had broken most of the laws ofearth and of heaven; he had ever tried to be in with both sides and tocheat both; he was always ready to betray and lie and cozen; seldom, perhaps, did a more horrible old man meet a more deserved doom; yet hedied with a bravery and a composure which were not to be expected. Nothing in his life became him like to the leaving it. Thanks to thegenius of William Hogarth, we all know exactly how Simon Fraser, thebad Lord Lovat, looked in those last days of his life when he lay inprison, his old body weak with many infirmities, and his old spiritstill scheming and hoping for the reprieve that did not come. On April9th he was executed on Tower Hill. His latest words were grotesquelyinappropriate to his evil life. With his lying lips he repeated thefamous line from Horace, "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, " andwith that lie on his lips he knelt before the block and had his headcut off at one stroke. His body was laid in the company of better men, by the side of Balmerino and Kilmarnock, in the Church of St. Peter onthe Green. 

[Sidenote: 1745--William Hogarth]

The genius of William Hogarth is inseparably associated with theForty-five by reason of this famous portrait of Simon Lovat, and foryet another reason. In this year (1745) William Hogarth was alreadyexceedingly popular, although he had as yet failed to bask much in thesunshine of royal favor. Those old, early days of poverty and strugglewere far behind. The industrious apprentice had married his master'sdaughter, fifteen years ago by this time, and Sir James Thornhill hadforgotten his {231} wrath and forgiven the young painter who was soimmeasurably his superior. "The Harlot's Progress, " "The Rake'sProgress, " "Industry and Idleness, " and many another plate in theastonishing panorama of mid last century life, had earned for Hogarth ahigh position in the favor of the day; and when he posted down to St. Albans, where wicked Simon Lovat lay sick, to receive the old traitor'slathered embrace and to make the famous engraving, William Hogarth wasa very distinguished person indeed. The portrait of Simon Fraser had agreat success. Never did portrait bear more distinctly the impress offidelity. The unwieldy trunk, the swollen legs, the horrible, cunning, satyr-like face with its queerly lifted eyebrows, its flattened sensualnose, and its enormous mouth, the odd dogmatic gesture with which theindex finger of the left hand touches the thumb of the right: all thesethings William Hogarth immortalized--making Simon Fraser (Lord Lovat)wellnigh as familiar a personality to us as he was to any of the men bebetrayed or the women he wronged in the course of his base life. Theplate had a prodigious success. The presses were hard at work for manydays, and could not print proofs fast enough. "For several weeks, "says Mr. Sala, "Hogarth received money at the rate of twelve pounds aday for prints of his etching. " It was reduced in size and printed asa watch-paper--watch-papers were vastly fashionable in those days--andin that Liliputian form it sold also in large quantities. The infamyof the subject and the genius of the artist lent a double attraction tothe portrait. 

But the portrait of Simon Fraser is not the only, is not perhaps eventhe chief, connection of Hogarth with the Forty-five. Whether Hogarthdid or did not do the sketch for the mezzotint engraving called"Lovat's Ghost on Pilgrimage" matters little. He certainly did do thefamous picture and famous plate which is known as the "March toFinchley. " Every one knows that marvellous and no doubt vividlyaccurate picture of the progress of the foot guards to Finchley Commonon their way to {232} Scotland; the riot, the debauchery, theconfusion, the drunkenness of the scene. Those tipsy heroes, staggering along to the tunes of tipsy drummer and tiny fifer, whileDoll Tearsheet and Moll Flanders harass them with enforced embraces, played their part no doubt in the horrible cruelties which succeededCulloden. But, at the same time, these were among the soldiers who didsucceed in preventing England from being given over to the Jacobites, or who at least prevented the Stuart Prince from holding Scotland, andsetting up the Stuart throne there. It may, therefore, be perhapspardoned to his majesty King George the Second if he did not quiteappreciate the "burlesque, " even though that lack of appreciation madeHogarth in a rage dedicate the plate to his majesty of Prussia. 

[Sidenote: 1788--"Bonnie Prince Charlie"]

Misfortune followed most of the followers of Prince Charles. Tullibardine died in the Tower a few days before his trial. CharlesRatcliffe, Lord Derwentwater's brother, was executed. Sheridan died ofapoplexy in the November of 1746. The Duke of Perth died on shipboard, on his way to France, soon after Culloden. The less conspicuous rebelssuffered as severely as the leaders. The executions that took place atYork and Carlisle, at Penrith and Brampton, and on Kennington Common, bloodily avenged the blow that had been struck at the House of Hanover. A great number of prisoners who were not executed were shipped off asslaves to the plantations, a fate scarcely less terrible than death;some were pardoned on consideration of their entering the service ofthe King as sailors; some were pardoned later on; a few, it is said, escaped. The sternest measures were taken to prevent any possibilityof a further rising in Scotland. The disarmament of the clans, whichhad been carried out so imperfectly after the Fifteen, was nowrigorously and effectually enforced. The hereditary jurisdiction ofthe chiefs of clans, which made those chiefs the petty kings of theirdistricts, was abolished, and in their places the ordinary process oflaw was established, with its sheriffs {233} and sheriffs' substitutes, and its circuits of judges. The national costume, the kilt, wasproscribed under the severest penalties, though in the course of timethis proscription was gradually relaxed. Every master of every privateschool north of the Tweed was called upon to swear allegiance to theHouse of Hanover, and to register his oath. The turbulent spirit andfine fighting qualities of the clans were turned to good account by theGovernment, who raised several Highland regiments, and thus succeededin diverting to their own service all the restless and warlike energywhich had hitherto been so troublesome to law and order. It must beadmitted that the modern prosperity of Scotland dates in a great degreefrom the Forty-five. The old conditions of life in the Highlands wereconditions under which it was impossible for a country to thrive; andthough it is necessary to condemn the manner in which the Government, at all events in the earlier stages, attempted to effect thepacification of Scotland, it is also necessary to admit that Scotlandis probably more fortunate to-day than she would have been if victoryhad been given to the Stuart at Culloden. 

Of that Stuart we may as well take leave now. His subsequent career isa most dispiriting study. He hoped against hope for a while that thisforeign power or that foreign power would lend him a helping hand tohis throne. Expelled from France, he drifted to Italy, and into thatpitiable career of dissipation and drunkenness which ended soingloriously a once bright career. To the unlucky women whom he lovedhe was astonishingly brutal; he forced Miss Walkenshaw--the lady ofwhom he became enamoured in Scotland--to leave him by his cruelty; heforced his unhappy wife, the Countess of Albany, to leave him for thesame reason. Her love affair with the poet Alfieri is one of thefamous love-stories of the world. It seems pretty certain that CharlesStuart actually visited England once, if not more than once, after theForty-five, and that George the Third was well aware of his presence inLondon, and, with a contemptuous good {234} nature, took no stepswhatever to lay hands upon the rival who was dangerous no longer. Atlast, on January 31, 1788, or, as some have it, on January 30, theactual anniversary of the execution of Charles the First, CharlesStuart died in Rome, and with him died the last hope of the Stuartrestoration in England. Had Charles lived a little longer, he wouldhave seen in the very following year the beginning of that great stormwhich was to sweep out of existence a monarchical system as absolute asthat of the Stuarts had been, and to behead a monarch far less blamablethan Charles the First of England. There is something appropriate inthis uncompromising devotee and victim of the principle of divine rightdying in exile on the very eve of that revolution which was practicallyto abolish the principle of the divine right of kings forever. Oddlyenough, there are still devotees of the House of Stuart, gentlemen andladies who work up picturesque enthusiasms about the Rebel Rose and theRed Carnation, and who affect to regard a certain foreign princess asthe real sovereign of England. But the English people at large needhardly take this graceful Jacobitism very seriously. Jacobitism cameto its end with Cardinal Henry dying as the pensioner of George theThird, and with Prince Charles drowning in Cyprus wine the once gallantspirit which, even at the end, could sometimes shake off itsdegradation, and blaze into a moment's despairing brilliancy, at thethought of the Clans and the Claymores, and the brave days ofForty-five. And so, in the words of the old Saga men, here he dropsout of the tale. 

[Sidenote: 1745-1889--The Stuart charm]

But it is the curious characteristic of the ill-fated House of Stuartthat, through all their misfortunes, through all their degradations, they have contrived to captivate the imagination and bewitch the heartsof many generations. The Stuart influence upon literature has beenastonishing. No cause in the world has rallied to its side so manypoets, named or nameless, has so profoundly attracted the writers andthe readers of romance, has bitten more deeply {235} into popularfancy. Even in our own day, an English poet, Mr. Swinburne, who hasnot tuned much to thrones fallen or standing, has been inspired by theold Stuart frenzy to write one of the most valuable of all the wealthof ballads that have grown up around the Stuart name. In his "AJacobite's Exile, 1746, " Mr. Swinburne has summed up in lines of themost poignant and passionate pathos all the feeling of a gentleman ofthe North Country dwelling in exile for his king's sake. The emotionwhich finds such living voice in the contemporary poetry, in theballads that men wrote and men sang, while the House of Stuart wasstill a reality, while there were still picturesque or semi-picturesquepersonages living in foreign courts and claiming the crown of England, finds no less living voice in the words written by a poet of to-day, though nearly a century has elapsed, since the hopes of the House ofStuart went out forever. 

 "We'll see nae mair the sea-banks fair, And the sweet, gray, gleaming sky, And the lordly strand of Northumberland, And the goodly towers thereby: And none shall know, but the winds that blow, The graves wherein we lie. "

What was there, what is there, we may well ask, in that same House ofStuart, in that same Jacobite cause, which still quickens in thislatter day a living passion and pathos, which can still inspire a poetof to-day with some of the finest verses he has ever written? It maybe some consolation to the lingering adherents of the name, to thosewho wear oak-apple on May 29th, and who sigh because there is no "kingover the water" who can come to "enjoy his own again"--it may be someconsolation to them to think that if their cause can no longer stir theswords in men's hands, it can still guide their pens to as poeticpurpose as it did in the years that followed the fatal Forty-five. Itmay console them too, perhaps, with a more ironical consolation, toknow that the greatest enthusiast about {236} all things connected withthe House of Stuart, the most eager collector of all Stuart relics, isthe very sovereign who is the direct descendant of the Hanoverianelectors against whom the clans were hurled at Sheriffmuir and atCulloden, the lady and queen whom it affords a harmless gratificationto certain eccentric contemporary Jacobites to allude to as "thePrincess Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. "

[Sidenote: 1745--Swift and Stella]

In the wild October of the wild year of the Forty-five a great spiritpassed away under the most tragic conditions. While Scotland andEngland were raging for and against rebellion, the greatest mind of theage went grimly out in Ireland. On October 19, 1745, Jonathan Swiftdied. For years he had been but in a living death. Racked with pain, almost wholly bereft of reason, sometimes raging in fits of madness, hewas a fearful sight to those who watched over him. When the end cameit came quietly. He sank into sleep and did not wake any more. He wasin his seventy-eighth year when he died. A dim stone upon the darkenedwall of St. Patrick's Church in Dublin sums up, in words at oncecruelly bitter and profoundly melancholy, the story of his life. Thatmouldering inscription, niched in high obscurity, which sometimes straypilgrims from across the seas strain their sight to decipher in thegloom, is the self-uttered epitaph of Jonathan Swift. We may translateit thus into English: "Here resteth the body of Jonathan Swift, Dean ofthis Cathedral Church, where fierce indignation can lacerate his heartno longer. Go, traveller, imitate if thou canst a champion, strenuousto his uttermost, of liberty. "

A little way apart, shadowed by his name in death no less than in life, lies Stella, the pale, dark-haired child whose wide eyes filled withlove as they followed the poor and lonely scholar through stately Sheneor the prim rococo epicureanism of Moor Park. She sleeps as she lived, at her master's feet. She dedicated all the days of her life to Swiftwith a devotion which is wellnigh without a parallel in the history ofwoman's love for man. Those {237} who stand awe-struck and reverentialin the quiet presence of the dead may well feel troubled by a hauntinginfluence in the twilight air of the place. It is the hauntinginfluence of the secret of those two tortured lives, the secret thatlies buried between their graves. One forgets for the moment Swift, the fierce fighting statesman, and thinks only of the lonely man wholived to lament for Stella. 

There has hardly ever been in the world, or out of it, in theillimitable kingdoms of fancy, a more famous pair of lovers than thesetwo. Leila and Majnun, Romeo and Juliet, Petrarch and Laura--repeatwhat names we may of famous lovers that the fancies of poets have everadored by the Tigris, or the Avon, or in the shadows of Vaucluse, thenames of Swift and Stella are found to appeal no less keenly to heartand brain, to the imagination and to pity. Happy they were not, andcould not be. When we read of Swift and Stella the mind naturallyturns to that luckless pair of lovers whom Dante saw in the thirdcircle of hell, blown about forever on the racking wind, and findingcomfort through the lapse of eternal twilight in the companionship oftheir common doom. They, too--Swift and Stella--seem driven by thepitiless wind of fate; they have fallen upon evil days; they aregreatly gifted, noble, greatly unhappy; they are sustained by theirstrange, exquisite friendship, by the community of genius, by a tenderaffection which was out of tune with the time and with their troubledlives. So long as Stella lived Swift was never alone. When she diedhe was alone till the end. There is nothing in literature moreprofoundly melancholy than Swift's own eloquent tribute to the memoryof his dead wife, written in a room to which he has removed so that hemay not see the light burning in the church windows, where her lastrites are being prepared. There is no greater and no sadder life inall the history of the last century. The man himself was described inthe very hours when he was most famous, most courted, most flattered, as the most unhappy man on earth. Indeed he seems to have been mostwretched; he certainly {238} darkened the lives of the two or threewomen who were so unfortunate as to love him. But we may forget thesadness of the personal life in the greatness of the public career. Swift was the ardent champion of every cause that touched him; the goodfriend of Ireland; he was always torn with "fierce indignation" againstoppression and injustice. Thackeray, whose reading of the character ofSwift is far too generally accepted, finds fault with the phrase, andblames somewhat bitterly the man who uses it, "as if, " he says, "thewretch who lay under that stone waiting God's judgment had a right tobe angry. " But it was natural that Swift, scanning life from his ownpoint of view, should feel a fierce indignation against wrong-doing, injustice, dishonesty. He was an erring man, but he had the right tobe angry with crimes of which he could never be guilty. His ways werenot always our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts; but he walked hisway, such as it was, courageously, and the temper of his thoughts wasnot unheroic. He was loyal to his leaders in adversity; he was true tofriends who were sometimes untrue to him; his voice was always raisedagainst oppression; he had the courage to speak up for Ireland and herliberties in some of the darkest days in our common history. ToThackeray he is only a "lonely guilty wretch, " a bravo, and a bully--aman of genius, employing that genius for selfish or vindictive purpose. To soberer and more sympathetic judgment Thackeray's study of Swift isa cruel caricature. He may have been "miserrimus, " but Grattan wasright when he appealed long after to the "spirit of Swift" as thespirit of one in true sympathy with the expanding freedom of everypeople--a champion, strenuous to his uttermost, of liberty. 

{239}

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

CHESTERFIELD IN DUBLIN CASTLE. 

[Sidenote: 1746--Chesterfield in Dublin Castle]

The Jacobite rebellion had compelled the Government to withdraw some oftheir troops from the continent. France for a while was flattered andfluttered by a series of brisk successes which left almost the whole ofthe Austrian Netherlands in her possession at the end of the campaignof 1746. The battle of Lauffeld, near Maestricht, in Holland, in thesummer of 1747, in which the allied Austrian, Dutch, and English armieswere defeated, especially exhilarated the French Jacobites. The Frenchwere commanded by Marshal Saxe, the victor of Fontenoy. The Englishtroops were under the command of Cumberland, and Lauffeld was thereforeregarded by them as in some sort avenging Culloden. The victory waslargely due at Lauffeld, as it had been at Fontenoy, to the desperatecourage of the Irish Brigade, who, in the words of one of theirenemies, "fought like devils, " and actually came very near to capturingCumberland himself. But the tide of victory soon turned for France onland and sea, and she became as anxious to make a peace as any other ofthe belligerent powers could be. The French were sick of the war. Henry Pelham was writing to the Duke of Cumberland to tell him that nomore troops were to be had by England, and that, if they were to behad, there was no more money wherewith to pay them. 

Political life in England had, during all this time, been passingthrough a very peculiar period of transition. When we speak ofpolitical life we are speaking merely of the life that went on in St. James's Palace, in the House of Lords, and in the House of Commons. The great bulk {240} of the middle classes, and the whole of the poorerclasses all over Great Britain, may be practically counted out when weare making any estimate of the movement and forces in the politicallife of that time. The tendency, however, was even then towards adevelopment of the popular principle. The House of Lords had ceased torule; the Commons had not yet begun actually to govern. But theCommons had become by far the more important assembly of the two; andif the House of Commons did not govern yet, it was certain that theKing and the Ministry could only govern in the end through the House ofCommons. The sudden shuffle of the cards of fate which had withdrawnboth Walpole and Pulteney at one and the same moment from their placeof command at either side of the field, brought with it all theconfusion of a Parliamentary transformation scene. Nothing could havebeen more strictly in the nature of the burlesque effects of aChristmas pantomime than Walpole and Pulteney shot up into the House ofLords, and Wilmington and Sandys set to carry on the government of thecountry. 

[Sidenote: 1743--"The drunken Administration"]

Yet a little, and poor, harmless, useless Wilmington was dead. He diedin July, 1743. Then came the troubling question, who is to bePrime-minister? The Ministerialists were broken into utter schism. The Pelhams, who had for some time been secretly backed up by Walpole'sinfluence with the King, were struggling hard for power againstCarteret, and against such strength as Pulteney, Earl of Bath, stillpossessed. Carteret had made himself impossible by the way in which hehad conducted himself in the administration of foreign affairs. He hadgone recklessly in for a thoroughly Hanoverian policy. He had madeEnglish interests entirely subservient to the interests of Hanover; orrather, indeed, to the King's personal ideas as to the interests ofHanover. Carteret had the weakness of many highly cultured and highlygifted men; he believed far too much in the supremacy of intellect andculture. The great rising wave of popular opinion was unnoticed byhim. He did not see that {241} the transfer of power from thehereditary to the representative assembly must inevitably come to meanthe transfer of power from the representatives to the represented. Carteret in his heart despised the people and all popular movements. Fancy being dictated to by persons who did not know Greek, who did notknow German, who did not even know Latin and French! He was fullyconvinced for a while that with his gifts he could govern the peoplethrough the House of Commons and the House of Commons through the King. He was not really a man of much personal ambition, unless of suchpersonal ambition as consists in the desire to make the most brilliantuse of one's intellectual gifts. The effort to govern the House ofCommons through the King interested him, and called all his dearestfaculties into play. He scorned the ordinary crafts of partymanagement. If he thought a man stupid he let the man know it. He wasrude and overbearing to his colleagues; insulting to people, howeverwell recommended, who came to him to solicit office or pension. Allthat sort of thing he despised, and he bluntly said as much. "Ego etrex meus" was his motto, as we may say it was the motto of Wolsey. NotWolsey himself made a more complete failure. The King fought hard forCarteret; but the stars in their courses were fighting harder againsthim. 

Carteret's term of office was familiarly known as "the drunkenAdministration. " The nickname was doubtless due in part to Carteret'slove of wine, which made him remarkable even in that day ofwine-drinking statesmen. But the phrase had reference also to theintoxication of intellectual recklessness with which Carteret rushed atand rushed through his work. It was the intoxication of too confidentand too self-conscious genius. Carteret was drunk with high spirits, and with the conviction that he could manage foreign affairs as nobodyelse could manage them. No doubt he knew far more about continentalaffairs than any of his English contemporaries; but he made the fatalmistake which other brilliant foreign {242} secretaries have made intheir foreign policy: he took too little account of the English peopleand of prosaic public opinion at home. In happy intoxication of thiskind he reeled and revelled along his political career like a mandelighting in a wild ride after an exciting midnight orgy. He did notnote the coming of the cold gray dawn, and of the day when hisgoings-on would become the wonder of respectable and commonplaceobservers. 

The cold gray dawn came, however, and the day. The public opinion ofthe country could not be kept from observing and pronouncing on thedoings of Carteret. Carteret felt sure that he was safe in the favorand the support of the King. He did not remember that the return ofevery cold gray dawn was telling more and more against him. The King, who, with all his vagaries and brutalities, had a considerable fund ofcommon-sense, was beginning to see that, much as he liked Carteretpersonally, the time was fast approaching when Carteret would have tobe thrown overboard. The day when the King could rule without theHouse of Commons was gone. The day when the House of Commons couldrule without the Sovereign had not come. 

In truth, the Patriots were now put at a sad disadvantage. It is agreat triumph to overthrow a great Ministry, but the triumph oftencarries with it a responsibility which is too much for the victors tobear, and which turns them into the vanquished before long. So itfared with the Patriots. While they were in opposition they hadpromised, as Sallust says Catiline and his friends did, seas andmountains. Now the time had come to show what they really could do;and, behold, they could do nothing. An opposition has a safe time ofit which, being directly adverse on some distinct question, principle, or policy to the party in power, it is able to say, "Let us come intooffice and we will do the very opposite; we will try to undo all thatthe present ministers have been doing, " and is able to carry out thepledge. But the opposition to Walpole had lived and flourished byfinding {243} fault with everything he did merely because it was he whodid it, and with his way of doing everything merely because it was hisway. Nothing can be easier than for a group of clever and unscrupulousmen to make it hot for even the strongest minister if they will onlyadopt such a plan of action. This was the plan of action of thePatriots, and they carried it out boldly, thoroughly, brilliantly, andsuccessfully. But now that they had come into office they found thatthey had not come into power. The claim to power had still to beearned for them by the success of their administration; and what wasthere for them to do? Nothing--positively nothing--but just what theirdefeated opponents had been trying to do. Hanoverian policy, Hanoverian subsidies, foreign soldiers, standing armies--these were thecrimes for which Walpole's administration had been unsparinglyassailed. But now came Carteret, and Carteret was on the whole rathermore Hanoverian than the King himself. Pulteney? Why, such influenceas Pulteney still had left was given to support Newcastle and Pelham, Walpole's own pupils and followers, in carrying out Carteret'sHanoverian policy. 

[Sidenote: 1743--An irreparable mistake]

Carteret set up Lord Bath as leader of the Administration. The twoPelhams--the Duke of Newcastle and his brother, Henry Pelham--weretremendously strong in family influence, in money, in retainers, led-captains, and hangers-on of all kinds. Pulteney, who had alwaysheld a seat nominally in the Cabinet, although he had hitherto clung tohis determination not to take office, now suddenly thought fit tochange his mind. Probably he already regretted deeply the fatalmistake which had made him refuse to accept any office on the fall ofWalpole. Perhaps he had fancied that the country and the Governmentnever could get on without him, and that he would have been literallyforced to withdraw his petulant self-denying ordinance. But themistake was fatal, irreparable. The country did not insist on havinghim back at any price; the country did not seem to have been thinkingabout him at all. Now, when there seemed to be {244} something like anew opportunity opening for him on the death of Lord Wilmington, he hadthe weakness to consent to be put up as a candidate for the position ofPrime-minister. The effort proved a failure. The Pelhams were notonly powerful in themselves, but they were powerful also in the supportof Walpole. Walpole still had great influence over the King, and henaturally threw all that influence into the scale of the men whorepresented his own policy, and not into the scale of those whorepresented the policy of his enemies. Walpole and the Pelhams carriedthe day; Henry Pelham became Prime-minister, and from that time thepower of Carteret was gone. This was in 1743--we are now going back alittle to take up threads which had to be dropped in order to deal withthe events springing out of the continental war, and especially therebellion in Scotland--and in November, 1744, Carteret was driven toresign his office. He had just become Earl Granville by the death ofhis mother, and was exiled to the House of Lords. 

The King, however, still kept up his desire to get back Lord Granvilleand to get rid of the Pelhams. George had sense enough to despise thetwo brothers, and sense enough also to see when he could not do withoutthem. During the February of 1746, while the Stuart rebellion wasstill aflame, a ministerial crisis came on. The Pelhams wished tobring Pitt into the Ministry; the King blankly refused. But the Kingdid more than that: he began to negotiate privately with Lord Granvilleand Lord Bath. The Pelhams knew their strength. They at once threw uptheir offices; the whole Ministry resigned in a body. The King foundthat Carteret could not possibly form an administration which wouldhave any support worth a moment's consideration in either House ofParliament. The fortunes of Charles Stuart were still looking brightin the north, and the King found himself without a Ministry. There wasno course open to him but one, and that was to recognize the strengthof the Pelhams and their followers, and to take back Newcastle and his{245} brother on any terms the conquerors might be pleased to dictate. The Pelhams came back to what might almost be called absolute power. The King was not likely soon again to trouble them with any hostileintervention. Thus these two men, one stupid beyond sounding, theother of only fair abilities, rising a little above mediocrity, hadgone into battle with some of the greatest statesmen and orators of theage, and had come out victorious. 

[Sidenote: 1743-1746--The "Broad-bottomed Ministry"]

Henry Pelham's administration was known by the slang nickname of the"Broad-bottomed Ministry. " It is known by that nickname in historystill; will doubtless always keep the title. The great overmasteringpassion of the Pelhams was the desire to keep office and power in theirhands at any price. Of the two brothers Henry Pelham was by far theabler man. His idea was to get around him all the really capableadministrators and debaters of every party, and thus make up a Ministrywhich should be all-powerful, and of which all the power should be inhis hands. Like his brother, the Duke of Newcastle, he had a sort ofhalf good-natured cynicism which never allowed him to doubt that if theoffices were offered to the men, the men would on any conditions acceptthe offices. The events that he had lately seen had not induced him inany way to modify his opinion. He had heard Pitt thundering awayagainst Carteret in exactly the same strain as Pitt and Carteret usedto thunder against Walpole. He had heard Pitt denounce Carteret as "anexecrable, a sole minister, who had ruined the British nation, andseemed to have drunk of the potion described in poetic fiction whichmade men forget their country. " He had seen the policy of Walpolequietly carried out by the very men who had bellowed against Walpole, and had succeeded at last in driving him from office forever. He knewthat no one now among those who used to call themselves "the Patriots"cared one straw whether Spain did or did not withdraw her claim to theRight of Search. His idea, therefore, was to get all the capable menof the various parties together, form them {246} into anadministration, and leave them to enjoy their dignity and theiremoluments while the King and he governed the country. It was in thisspirit and with this purpose that he set himself to form the"Broad-bottomed Ministry. " He was not, like his royal master, tormented or even embarrassed by personal dislikes; he would take intohis Ministry any one who could be of the slightest use to him. Hewould have kept Lord Carteret if Carteret had not made himselfimpossible. 

[Sidenote: 1745--The Chesterfield of Dublin Castle]

The time had already come when Chesterfield had to be taken into theAdministration again. He had made himself so particularly disagreeableto the King when out of office, he had raked the Government, and eventhe Court, so hotly with satire and invective in the House of Lords, that George reluctantly admitted that it was better to try to live withsuch a man, seeing that it began to be impossible to live without him. So it was settled that some place should be found for Chesterfield, andat the same time it was very desirable that a place should be foundwhich would not bring him much into personal association with the King. The condition of Continental Europe, the fluctuations of the war, suggested a natural opportunity for making use of Chesterfield'sadmitted genius for diplomacy, and accordingly he was sent back to hisold quarters at the Hague. He rendered some good service there; andthen suddenly the office of Viceroy of Ireland became vacant, andChesterfield was called from the Hague and sent to Dublin Castle in1745. He had known nothing of Ireland; he had never before been put inany position where his gift of governing could be tried. The gift ofgoverning is of course something entirely different from the gift ofmanaging diplomatic business; and Chesterfield had as yet had no chanceof proving any capacity but that of a parliamentary orator and adiplomatist. "Administration, " according to Aristotle, "shows theman. " Every one remembers the superb and only too often quoted Latinsentence which tells of one who by the consent of all would have beendeclared capable {247} of ruling if only he had not ruled. Administration was to show the real Chesterfield. He was just the sortof person to whom one would have expected the Latin saying to apply. What a likely man, everybody might have said, to make a greatadministrator, if only he had not administered! Chesterfield's record, however, must be read the other way. If he had never had the chance ofadministering the affairs of Ireland, how should we ever have knownthat he had a genius for governing men?

For, in the minds of all who understand these times and those, Chesterfield's short season of rule in Ireland was by far the greatestperiod of his career. The Chesterfield of Dublin Castle was as highabove the Chesterfield of the House of Lords as Goldsmith the poet isabove Goldsmith the historian, or Blackstone the constitutional lawyeris above Blackstone the poet. Judging of Chesterfield's conduct in theIrish Viceroyalty by Chesterfield's past career, men would have beenentitled to assume that his sympathies would go altogether with thegoverning race in Ireland. With them were the wealth, the rank, thefashion, the elegance, the refinement. With them was the easy-goingprofession of State religion--just the sort of thing that suitedChesterfield's ways. What sympathy could such a man as he have withthe Celtic and Catholic Irishman? Why should he care to be popularwith such a population? Even such gifted, and, on the whole, patrioticProtestants as Swift only sympathized with the Catholic Celts as anEnglishman living in Virginia, in the old plantation days, might havesympathized with the population of negro slaves. Chesterfield mighthave entered on his formal task in the temper of graceful levity andhigh-bred languid indifference. He might have allowed the cultured andrespectable gentlemen who were his permanent officials to manage thingsas they had long been doing before his time, pretty much in their ownway. He might have given them politely to understand that so long asthey spared him any trouble in his unthankful task he would back themup in anything they did. He {248} might have made it plain to theProtestant gentry and the Castle folk that his sympathies were all withthem; that he desired only to mix with them; and that it really did notmuch matter what the outer population in Ireland thought of him or ofthem. Thus he would easily have become the darling of Dublin Castle;and to most Irish Viceroys the voice of Dublin Castle was the voice ofIreland; at all events, the only voice in Ireland to which they caredto listen. 

[Sidenote: 1745--The state of Ireland]

What did Chesterfield find in Ireland when he came to undertake thetask of government in Dublin Castle? He found a people oppressedalmost beyond endurance by a cruel and barbarous system of penal lawsdirected against the profession and the practice of the faith to whichthey were passionately devoted. No people in the world's history, noteven the Scottish Covenanters, were more absolutely absorbed by thezeal of their faith than the Irish Catholic Celts. The Penal Laws weredevised and were being worked with the avowed intention of extirpatingeither the faith or the race--or, better still, the faith and the race. "The Irish, " said Dr. Johnson, "bursting forth, " as his biographertells us, "with a generous indignation, " "are in a most unnaturalstate, for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority. There is no instance, even in the ten persecutions, of such severity asthat which the Protestants of Ireland have exercised against theCatholics. " The Revolution, which had brought liberty of worship toEngland, had only brought harsher and more cruel repressive legislationagainst liberty of worship in Ireland. Where Chesterfield got theideas which he carried out from the first in his government of Irelandit is hard to understand. He must have had that gift of spontaneoussympathy which is the very instinct of genius in the government of apeople among whom one has not been born, among whom one has scarcelylived. His mind seems to have taken in at a glance the whole state ofthings. Talleyrand said of Alexander Hamilton, the great Americanstatesman, that {249} he had "divined Europe. " Chesterfield hadapparently divined Ireland. 

The twin curses of Ireland at the time were the Penal Laws and thecorrupt administration of Dublin Castle. Chesterfield determined tostrike a heavy blow at each of these evil things. He saw that thebaneful class ascendency which was engendered by the Penal Laws was asbad in the end for the oppressors as for the oppressed. He saw that itwas poisoning those who were administering it as well as those againstwhom it was administered. He could not abolish the Penal Laws or getthem repealed. No man in his senses could have hoped to get theexisting Parliament either of England or of Ireland to do anything thenwith the Penal Laws, except perhaps to try to make them a little moresevere and more tormenting. Chesterfield did not waste a thought onany such device. He simply resolved that he would not put the PenalLaws into action. It has been said of Chesterfield's administration inIreland that it was a policy which, with certain reservations, Burkehimself might have originated and owned. Chesterfield took thegovernment entirely into his own hands. He did his very best tosuppress the jobbery which had become a tradition in the officialism ofDublin Castle. He established schools wherever he could. He tried toencourage and foster new branches of manufacture, and to give a freeway to trade, and a stimulus to all industrial arts and crafts. Heshowed himself a strong man, determined to repress crime and outrage, but he showed himself also a just and a merciful man, determined not tocreate new crimes in the hope of repressing the old offences. Thecurse of Irish repressive government has always been its tendency tomake fresh crimes, crimes unknown to the ordinary law. Chesterfieldwould have nothing of the kind. More than that, he would not recognizeas offences the State-made crimes which so many of his predecessors hadshown themselves ruthless in trying to repress. The confidence of thepeople began to revive under his rule. The Irish {250} Catholic beganto find that although the Penal Laws still existed, in all theirblood-thirsty and stupid clauses, he might profess and practise hisreligion without the slightest fear of the informer, the prison, thetransport ship, or the hangman. Chesterfield asked for no additionaltroops from England. On the contrary, he sent away some of thesoldiers in Ireland to help the cause of the empire on the Continent. He was buoyant with a well-grounded confidence; and there was somethingcontagious in his fearless generosity and justice. The Irish peoplesoon came to understand him, and almost to adore him. He wasdenounced, of course, by the alarmists and the cowards; by the Castlehacks and the furious anti-Catholic bigots. Chesterfield let themdenounce as long and as loudly as seemed good to them. He nevertroubled himself about their wild alarms and their savage clamor. 

[Sidenote: 1745-1746--Chesterfield's recall]

Probably no Irishman who ever lived was a more bitter anduncompromising enemy of English rule in Ireland than John Mitchel, therebel of 1848. His opinion, therefore, is worth having as to thecharacter of Chesterfield's rule in Dublin Castle. In his "History ofIreland, " a book which might well be more often read in this countrythan it is, Mitchel says of Chesterfield: "Having satisfied himselfthat there was no insurrectionary movement in the country, and nonelikely to be, he was not to be moved from his tolerant courses by anycomplaints or remonstrances. Far from yielding to the feigned alarm ofthose who solicited him to raise new regiments, he sent four battalionsof the soldiers then in Ireland to reinforce the Duke of Cumberland. He discouraged jobs, kept down expenses. . . . When some savageAscendency Protestant would come to him with tales of alarm, he usuallyturned the conversation into a tone of light badinage which perplexedand baffled the man. One came to seriously put his lordship on hisguard by acquainting him with the fact that his own coachman was in thehabit of going to mass. 'Is it possible?' cried Chesterfield: 'then Iwill take care the fellow shall not drive me there. ' A {251} courtierburst into his apartment one morning, while he was sipping hischocolate in bed, with the startling intelligence that the Papists wererising in Connaught. 'Ah, ' he said, looking at his watch, ''tis nineo'clock--time for them to rise!' There was evidently no dealing withsuch a viceroy as this, who showed such insensibility to the perils ofProtestantism and the evil designs of the dangerous Papists. Indeed hewas seen to distinguish by his peculiar admiration a Papist beauty, Miss Ambrose, whom he declared to be the only 'dangerous Papist' he hadmet in Ireland. " Chesterfield himself has left an exposition of hispolicy which we may well believe to be genuine. "I came determined, "he wrote many years after, "to proscribe no set of persons whatever, and determined to be governed by none. Had the Papists made anyattempt to put themselves above the law, I should have taken good careto have quelled them again. It was said that my lenity to the Papistshad wrought no alteration either in their religious or their politicalsentiments. I did not expect that it would; but surely that was noreason for cruelty towards them. "

[Sidenote: 1745-1746--Chesterfield's recall]

It is true that Lord Chesterfield's conduct in Ireland has been foundfault with by no less devoted a friend of Ireland than Burke. In hisletter to a peer of Ireland on the Penal Laws against the IrishCatholics, Burke says: "This man, while he was duping the credulity ofPapists with fine words in private, and commending their good behaviorduring a rebellion in Great Britain--as it well deserved to becommended and rewarded--was capable of urging penal laws against themin a speech from the Throne, and of stimulating with provocatives thewearied and half-exhausted bigotry of the then Parliament of Ireland. "But Burke was a man whose public virtue was too high and unbending topermit him to make allowance for the political arts and crafts of aChesterfield. It is quite true that Chesterfield recommended in hisspeech that the Irish Parliament should inquire into the working of thePenal Laws in order to find out if they needed any {252} improvement. But this was a mere piece of stage-play to amuse and to beguile thestupidity and the bigotry of the Irish Parliament of those days. Itwas not a stroke of policy which a man like Burke would havecondescended to or could have approved; but it must have greatlydelighted the cynical humor of such a man as Chesterfield. At allevents it is certain that during his administration Chesterfieldsucceeded in winning the confidence and the admiration of the Catholicsof Ireland--that is to say, of five-sixths of the population of thecountry. He was very soon recalled; perhaps the King did not quitelike his growing popularity in Ireland; and when he left Dublin he wasescorted to the ship's side by an enthusiastic concourse of people, whopressed around him to the last and prayed of him to return soon toIreland. Chesterfield did not return to Ireland. He was made one ofthe Secretaries of State, and the Dublin Castle administration went onits old familiar way. But there is even still among the Irish people alingering tradition of the rule of Lord Chesterfield, and of the newsystem which he tried for a while to establish in the government oftheir island. 

{253}

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

PRIMUS IN INDIS. 

[Sidenote: 1743--Nucleus of the Anglo-Indian Empire]

Before the Jacobite rising had been put down, or the Pelhams absolutelyset up, England, without knowing it, had sent forth a new conqueror, and might already have hailed the first promises of sway over one ofthe most magnificent empires of the earth. The name of the newconqueror was Robert Clive; the name of the magnificent empire wasIndia. 

At that time the influence of England over India was small toinsignificance--a scrap of Bengal, the island and town of Bombay, Madras, and a fort or two. The average Englishman's knowledge of Indiawas small even to non-existence. The few Englishmen who ever lookedwith eyes of intelligent information upon that great tract ofterritory, leaf-shaped, and labelled India on the maps, knew that theEnglish possessions therein were few and paltry. Three quite distinctsections, called presidencies, each independent of the two others, andall governed by a supreme authority whose offices were in LeadenhallStreet in London, represented the meagre nucleus of what was yet to bethe vast Anglo-Indian Empire. The first of these three presidencieswas the Bombay presidency, where the Indian Ocean washes the Malabarcoast. The second was in the Carnatic, on the eastern side of theleaf, where the waters of the Bay of Bengal wash the Coromandel coast, where the forts of St. George and St. David protected Madras and asmaller settlement. The third presidency was up towards the north, where the sacred Ganges, rushing through its many mouths to the sea, floods the Hoogly. Here the town of Calcutta was growing up aroundFort William. 

{254}

These three little presidencies, plying their poor trade, and dependingfor defence upon their ill-disciplined native soldiers, the Sepahis, whom we have come to call Sepoys, were all that had grown out of thenearly two centuries of relations with the leaf-shaped Indian landsince first, in 1591, Captain Lancaster sailed the seas; since firstthe East India Company sprang into existence. It was not an agreeabletwo centuries for Englishmen who ever thought of India to read about. Two centuries of squabblings and strugglings with Dutch settlers andwith Portuguese settlers, of desperate truckling to native princes. In1664 the English East India Company found a rival more formidable thanthe Dutch or the Portuguese in the French East India Company, which theastuteness of Colbert set up at Pondicherry, and which throve with arapidity that quite eclipsed the poor progress of the English traders. Even when, in 1708, the old East India Company united its fortunes withthe new Indian Company that had been formed, and thus converted onerival into an ally, the superiority of the French remained uncontested, and daily waxed greater and greater, until it began to seem as if, inthe words of Antony to Cleopatra, all the East should call her mistress. 

[Sidenote: 1725-1743--The Clives of Market-Drayton]

Such was the condition of affairs in the year 1743, when the apparentlyinsignificant fact that a young gentleman of a ne'er-do-welldisposition, who seemed likely to come to a bad end in England, and whowas accordingly shipped off to India by his irritated relations, altered and exalted the destinies not merely of a wealthy tradingcompany, but of the British Crown. In the market town ofDrayton-in-Hales, better known as Market-Drayton, in Shropshire, therelived, in the reign of George the First, a Mr. Richard Clive--a manwhose comparatively meagre abilities were divided between theprofession of the law and the cares of a small and not very valuableestate. In the little town on the river Tern, within sight of the oldchurch built by Stephen, whose architectural characteristics were thenhappily unaltered by the hand of the {255} eighteenth century restorer, the Clives had been born and given in marriage and died, and repeatedthe round ever since the twelfth century. Mr. Richard Clive, in thereign of George the First, married a Manchester lady named Gaskill, whobore him many children of no note whatever, but who bore him one verynoteworthy child indeed, his eldest son Robert, on September 29th, inthe year 1725. 

There was a time, a long time too, during which the worthy Mr. RichardClive persisted in regarding the birth of this eldest son as littleless than a curse. He could very well have said of Robert what theQueen-mother says of Richard of Gloster, tetchy and wayward was hisinfancy. Seldom was there born into the world a more stubborn-minded, high-spirited boy. He may remind us a little of the young Mirabeau inhis strenuous impassioned youth; in the estimate which those nearest tohim, and most ignorant of him, formed of the young lion cub in thedomestic litter; in the strange promise which the great careerfulfilled. There was a kind of madness in the impish pranks which theboy Clive played in Market-Drayton, scaring the timid and scandalizingthe respectable. He climbed to the top of the lofty steeple of thatchurch, which dated from the days of Stephen, and perched himself upona stone spout near the dizzy summit with a cool courage which Stephenhimself might have envied. He got round him from among the idle ladsof the town "a list of lawless resolutes, " and, like David, madehimself a captain over them for the purpose of levying a kind ofguerilla warfare upon the shopkeepers of the little town, and makingthem pay tribute for the sanctity of their windows. In fact, hebehaved as wildly as the wildest school-boy could behave--drifting fromschool to school, to learn nothing from each new master, and only toleave behind at each the record of an incorrigible reprobate. Nobodyseems to have discovered that there was anything of the man of geniusin the composition of the incorrigible reprobate, and so it came aboutthat the town of {256} Market-Drayton in general, and the respectablefamily of the Clives in particular, breathed more freely when it wasknown that young Robert was "bound to John Company"--that he hadaccepted a writership in the East India Service, and had actuallysailed for Madras. 

The career to which the young Clive was thus devoted did not, on theface of it, appear to be especially brilliant. The voyage in itself, to begin with, was a terrible business; a six months' voyage was thenregarded as an astonishingly quick passage, and in Clive's case thevoyage was longer even than usual. It was more than a year after heleft England before he arrived at Madras, as his ship had stayed forsome months at the Brazils. Clive arrived at Madras with no money, with many debts, and with some facility in speaking Portuguese, acquired during the delay in the Brazils. He had absolutely no friendsin India, and made no friends for many months after his arrival. Itwould be hard to think of a more desolate position for a proud, shy, high-spirited lad with a strong strain of melancholy in hiscomposition. We find him sighing for Manchester with all the profoundand pathetic longing which inspires the noble old English ballad of"Farewell, Manchester. " It is not easy for us of to-day, who associatethe name of Manchester with one of the greatest manufacturing towns inthe world, to appreciate to the full either the spirit of the oldballad or the longing aspiration which Clive had to see againManchester, "the centre of all my wishes. " But if he was homesick, ifhe was lonely, if he was poor in pocket and weak in health, shadowed bymelancholy and saddened by exile, he never for a moment suffered hispride to abate or his courage to sink. He treated his masters of theEast India Company with the same scornful spirit which he had of oldshown to the shopkeepers of Market-Drayton and the school-masters ofShropshire. 

In the wretched mood of mind and body that Clive owned during his earlydays at Madras the constitutional melancholy asserted itself withconquering force, and he {257} twice attempted his life. On eachoccasion the pistol which he turned upon his desperate and disorderedbrain missed fire. Yet Clive had meant most thoroughly andconsistently to kill himself. He did not, like Byron, discover, afterthe attempt was made, that the weapon he had aimed at his life was notloaded. Each time the pistol was properly charged and primed, and eachtime it was the accident of the old flint-lock merely causing a flashin the pan which saved his life. In a nature that is melancholy atinge of superstition is appropriate, and it is hardly surprising ifClive saw in the successive chance a proof that he was not meant as yetto perish by self-slaughter. "I must be destined for great things, " hethought, and he was right. Between that attempt at suicide and thenext lay long years of unexampled glory, lay the pomp of Orientalcourts and the glitter of Oriental warfare, lay the foundation andestablishment of that empire of India which is to-day one of thegreatest glories of the British Crown--an empire mightier, wealthier, statelier than any which Aurungzebe swayed, and whose might and wealthand state were mainly due to the courage and the genius of the lonely, melancholy lad, the humble writer in the service of John Company, whohad endeavored in his solitude and his despair to end his young life atthe muzzle of his pistol. 

[Sidenote: 1707--The fall of the House of Baber]

What was the condition of India at the time when Clive was makingunavailing efforts to cut short his career? The country itself wasgiven over to the wildest confusion. With the death of Aurungzebe, in1707, the majestic empire of the House of Baber came to an end. Theempire of Alexander did not crumble more disastrously to pieces afterthe death of the Macedonian prince than did the empire of the Mogulsfall to pieces after the death of Aurungzebe. The pitiable anddespicable successors of a great prince, worse than Sardanapalus, worsethan the degraded Caesars of the basest days of Byzantium, squanderedtheir unprofitable hours in shameful pleasure while the great empirefell to pieces, trampled by the {258} conquering feet of Persianprinces, of Afghan invaders, of wild Mahratta chiefs. Between thefierce invaders from the northern hills who ravaged, and leviedtribute, and established dominion of their own, and such still powerfulviceroys as held their own, and offered a nominal allegiance to theMogul line, the glory of the race of Tamerlane was dimmed indeed. Itoccurred to one man, watching all the welter of the Indian world, whereMussulman and Hindoo struggled for supremacy--it occurred to Dupleixthat in this struggle lay the opportunity for some European power--forhis European power--for France--to gain for herself, and for the daringadventurer who should shape her Oriental policy, an influence hithertoundreamed of by the statesmen of the West. It was not given to Dupleixto guess that what he dreamed of and nearly accomplished was to becarried out at last by Robert Clive. 

[Sidenote: 1746--La Bourdonnais]

The history of French empire in India contains two speciallyillustrious names--the name of La Bourdonnais and the name of Dupleix. The first had practically called into existence the two colonies of theIle de France and of Bourbon; the second had founded the town ofChandernagor, in the bay of Bengal, and, as governor-general of theFrench East India Company, had established himself at Pondicherry withall the luxury and more than all the luxury of a veritable Orientalprince. It may be that if these two men had been better able to agreetogether the fortunes of the French nation in the Indies might havebeen very different. But a blind and uncompromising jealousy dividedthem. Whatever Dupleix did was wrong in the eyes of La Bourdonnais;whatever La Bourdonnais did was wrong in the eyes of Dupleix; andDupleix was the stronger man of the two, and he finally triumphed for atime. In the war that was raging La Bourdonnais saw his opportunity. He determined to anticipate Dupleix in beginning hostilities againstthe English in India. He set sail from the island of Bourbon with afleet of nine vessels which he had equipped, at his proper cost, and an{259} army of some three thousand men, which included a largeproportion of negroes. After a successful engagement with the ships ofwar under the command of Admiral Burnett, outside Madras, LaBourdonnais disembarked, besieged Madras, and compelled the town tocapitulate. So far the star of La Bourdonnais was in the ascendent;but the terms which he exacted from the conquered town were, by theirvery moderation, the means of his undoing. With the keys of theconquered town in his hand, with the French colors floating bravelyfrom Fort St. George, with all the stored wealth of the company asspoils of war, La Bourdonnais thought that he might be not unlenient inthe terms he accorded to his enemies. He allowed the Englishinhabitants of Madras to remain prisoners of war on parole, andstipulated that the town should remain in his hands until the paymentof a ransom of some nine millions of francs. 

The triumph of La Bourdonnais aroused, however, not the admiration butthe jealousy of Dupleix. Out of La Bourdonnais's very victory thecunning of Dupleix discovered a means to humiliate his rival. Thevague schemes which he had formed for the authority of France, and forhis influence in India, did not at all jump with the restoration ofMadras, once conquered, to the English. He declared that LaBourdonnais had gone beyond his powers; that terms to the vanquished onIndian soil could be made by the Governor of Pondicherry and theGovernor of Pondicherry alone. He refused to ratify La Bourdonnais'sconvention, and, instead, declared that the capitulation was at an end, marched upon Madras, insisted upon the pillage and destruction of agreat portion of the town, arrested a large number of the leadingEnglishmen, including the Governor of Fort St. George, and conveyedthem with all circumstances of public ignominy to Pondicherry. As forLa Bourdonnais, who had taken so gallant a step to secure Frenchsupremacy in India, he was placed under arrest and sent to France, where the Bastille awaited him; he had fallen before his vindictiverival. 

The inhabitants of Madras, smarting under what may {260} fairly becalled the treachery of Dupleix, considered rightly that they were nolonger bound by the convention with the luckless La Bourdonnais. Oneat least of the inhabitants was a man not likely to be bound by themere letter of a convention which had already been broken in thespirit. Clive disguised himself as a Mussulman--we may be permitted towonder how a man who to the end of his days remained eccentricallyignorant of all Eastern languages accomplished this successfully--and, escaping from Madras, made his way to Fort St. David. At Fort St. David his military career began. The desperate courage which hadcarried him to the top of the tower of Stephen's church, and which hadenabled him to overawe the "military bully who was the terror of FortSt. David, " now found its best vent in "welcoming the French, " like thehero of Burns's ballad, "at the sound of the drum. " The peace whichwas concluded between England and France sent Clive for a season, however, back to the counting-house, and gave back Madras again to theEnglish company. 

[Sidenote: 1748--The dream of Dupleix]

But the ambition of Dupleix was not a thing to be bounded by thecircumscription of war or peace between England and France. Englandand France might be at peace, but there was no need that the EnglishEast India Company and the French East India Company should be at peaceas well. The internal troubles of India afforded Dupleix theopportunity he coveted of pushing his own fortunes, and doing his bestto drive the English traders out of the field. Unfortunately for him, however, his opportunity was also the opportunity of the young writerand ensign who had already won the admiration and the esteem of MajorLawrence, then looked upon as the first English officer in India. 

While the French still held Madras, before the Treaty ofAix-la-Chapelle compelled the reluctant Dupleix to restore it to theEnglish, a military episode, which might almost be called an accident, had helped to confirm enormously the influence of France in India. TheNabob of {261} the Carnatic, offended by the action of the Englishgovernor of Madras, who had omitted to send him those presents whichare essential to all stages of Oriental diplomacy, had practicallywinked at the action of the more liberal-handed Dupleix in his movementagainst Madras. When, too late, the Nabob heard of the fall of Madras, he sent an army to recapture the town, and called upon the Frenchgovernor to surrender it. The governor was Duval D'Espremesnil, thefather of that mad D'Espremesnil who fuliginates through a portion ofthe French Revolution. He refused to obey the Nabob, opened fire uponhis forces, and repulsed them. The repulse was followed a little laterby a vigorous attack of the French troops under Paradis, which smashedthe armament of the Nabob to pieces at St. Thome on November 4, 1746. This victory gave the French a prestige of which Dupleix was the veryman to appreciate the full importance. When, in 1748, Nizam-Al-Mulk, the Viceroy of the Deccan, died, there arose at once pretenders notmerely to the Deccan viceroyalty, but also to the government of theCarnatic. The first was claimed by Mirzapha Jung; the second by ChundaSahib. Mirzapha Jung and Chunda Sahib, profoundly impressed by thetriumph of French arms two years earlier, appealed to Dupleix to helpthem, joined their forces, and invaded the Carnatic. 

Dupleix was not unwilling to listen to the appeal of the invaders. Hesaw that the chance had arisen for him to constitute himself theWarwick, the king-maker, of India. He lent all the force of hisEuropean troops, of his native troops trained in the European fashion, and of the prestige of France to the invaders. The old Nabob of theCarnatic, Anaverdi Khan, was defeated and killed. His son fled withhis broken army to Trichinopoly, and the invaders nominally, andDupleix actually, reigned supreme in the Carnatic. 

At that moment the sun of Dupleix's fortunes reached its zenith. Hewas the chosen companion and confidant of the new Nizam of the Deccan;he was made Governor {262} of India from the river Kristna to CapeComorin; he pomped it with more than Oriental splendor in thepageantries of triumph at Pondicherry; he set up on the scene of hisvictory a stately column, bearing in four languages inscriptionscelebrating his fame; he had treasure, power, and influence even to hisambitious heart's content. When Mirzapha Jung died, shortly after hisaccession to the government of the Deccan, Dupleix held equal influenceover his successor. He might well have believed that his glory wascomplete, his plans perfected; he might well have believed that hecould afford to smile at the feeble efforts which the English made tostay his progress. 

[Sidenote: 1751--The defence of Arcot]

He soon ceased to smile. Clive, then five-and-twenty years old, urgedupon his superiors that Trichinopoly must soon fall before famine andleaguer, that with the overthrow of the House of Anaverdi Khan thepower of the French over India would be established, and the power ofthe English in India destroyed. The great deed to be done was to raisethe siege of Trichinopoly. This Clive coolly proposed to do byeffecting a counter-diversion in besieging Arcot, the favored home ofthe Nabobs. With a little handful of an army--200 Europeans and 300Sepoys--Clive marched through the wildest weather to Arcot, capturedit, and prepared to hold his conquest. We may perhaps here bepermitted to say that in using, as we shall continue to do, the oldfamiliar forms of spelling the names of Indian towns and of Indianprinces, we do so not in ignorance of the fact that in many, if notmost cases, they present but a very poor idea indeed of the actualOriental sounds and spelling. The modern writers on Indian historyadopt a new and more scientific spelling, which makes Arcot Arkat, andTrichinopoly Trichinapalli. But, all things considered, it seems bestfor the present to adhere to those old forms which have become, as itwere, portion and parcel of English history. 

Chunda Sahib, who was besieging Trichinopoly, immediately despatched4000 men against Arcot, which, {263} joining with the defeated garrisonand a few French, made up a muster of some 10, 000 men under RajahSahib, Chunda Sahib's son, against a garrison of little more than 300. The defence of Arcot is one of the most brilliant episodes in history. It reads rather like some of those desperate and heroic adventures inwhich the fiction of the elder Dumas delighted than the sober chronicleof recorded warfare. For fifty days the siege raged. For fifty daysRajah Sahib did his best to take the town, and for fifty days Clive andhis little band of Europeans and Sepoys frustrated all his efforts. The stubborn defence began to create allies. The fighting capacity ofthe English had come to be regarded with great contempt by the nativeraces, but the contempt was now rapidly changing to admiration. MurariRao, the great Mahratta leader, who had been hired to assist the causeof Mohammed Ali, but who had hitherto hung in idleness upon theCarnatic frontier, convinced that the English must be defeated, nowdeclared that since he had learned that the "English could fight, " hewas willing to fight for them, and with them, and prepared to move tothe assistance of Clive. Before they could arrive, Rajah Sahib made adesperate last effort to capture Arcot, was completely defeated withgreat loss, and withdrew from Arcot, leaving Clive and his little armymasters of the place. 

Great was the glory of Clive in Fort St. George; but Clive was notgoing to content himself with so much and no more. With an armyincreased to nearly a thousand men, he assailed the enemy, defeatedRajah Sahib once and again, and in his triumphal progress caused to berazed to the ground the memorial city which the pride of Dupleix haderected to his victory, and the vaunting monument which set forth infour languages the glory of his deeds. The astonished Nabobs began forthe first time to understand that the glory of France was notinvincible, that a new star had arisen before which the star of Dupleixmust pale, and might vanish. The star of Clive continued to mount. Though the arrival of Major Lawrence from {264} England took away fromhis hands the chief command, he worked under Lawrence as gallantly aswhen he was alone responsible for his desperate undertakings, andsuccess, as before, followed all the enterprises in which he wasconcerned. 

Trichinopoly was relieved; Chunda Sahib was captured by the Mahrattasand put to death; Covelong and Chingkeput, two of the most importantFrench forts, were captured by Clive with an army as unpromising asFalstaff's ragged regiment. At this point, and on the full tide ofvictory, Clive's health broke down, and he was compelled to return toEngland for change of climate. Before he left Madras he married MissMaskelyne. Never did a man return to his native land under moreauspicious conditions who had gone thence under conditions soinauspicious. The bad boy of Market-Drayton was now the illustriousand opulent soldier whom the gentlemen of the India House delighted tosalute as General Clive, and about whom it seemed as if it wasimpossible for the nation to make too much ado. 

[Sidenote: 1755--Back to India]

Clive was now seized with the ambition to play a part in home politics. The general election of 1754 seemed to offer him a tempting opportunityof entering Parliament. He came forward as one of the members for St. Michael's in Cornwall, was opposed by Newcastle, and supported bySandwich and Fox, was returned, was petitioned against, and wasunseated on petition. To fight a parliamentary election in those daysmeant the spending of a very great deal of money, and Clive, who hadsquandered his well-earned fortune right and left since his return tohis native land, found himself, after he was unseated, in a decidedlydisagreeable position. His money was dwindling; his hope of politicaltriumphs had vanished into thin air; naturally enough, his thoughtsturned back to the India of his youth. The curious good-luck thatalways attended upon him stood him in good stead here. If he had needof the India of his youth, the India of his youth had need of him. IfFrance and England were not at {265} war, the rumor of war was busybetween them, and there was a desire for good leaders in the advancingEnglish colonies in India. Poor Dupleix was out of the way already. The brilliant spirit whom Clive's genius had over-crowed had vanishedforever from the scenes of his triumphs and his humiliations. He hadsuffered something of the same hard measure that he had himself metedout to his colleague La Bourdonnais; he had been recalled incomparative disgrace to France, with ruined fortunes and ruined hopes, to die, a defeated and degraded man, the shadow of his own great name. But the influence of France was not extinct in India; it might at anymoment reassert itself--at any moment come to the push of arms betweenFrance and England in the East as well as in the West; and where couldthe English look for so capable a leader of men as Clive? So it cameabout that in the year 1755 Clive again sailed the seas for India, under very different conditions from those under which he firstadventured for the East. Then he was an unknown, unappreciatedrapscallion of a lad, needy, homesick, desperate, and alone; now he wasgoing out as the Governor of Fort St. David, as lieutenant-colonel inthe British army, with a record of fame and fortune behind him. Newfame, new fortune, awaited him almost on the very moment of his arrivalin India. The pirate stronghold of Gheriah fell before him almost aseasily as if the place had been a new Jericho and Clive a secondJoshua. But there was greater work in store for him than thedestruction of pirate strongholds. Bengal became suddenly the theatreof a terrible drama. Up to the year 1756 the tranquillity of theEnglish settlers and traders in Bengal had been undisturbed. Theirrelations with the Nabob Ali Vardi Khan had been of the friendliestkind, and the very friendliness of those relations had had the effectof making the English residents in Bengal, like the native population, men of a milder mould than those whom hard fortune had fashioned intosoldiers and statesmen at Madras. But in the year 1758 the Nabob AliVardi Khan died, and was {266} succeeded by his grandson, Siraju'dDaulah, infamous in English history as Surajah Dowlah. 

[Sidenote: 1756--The Blackhole]

This creature, who incarnated in his own proper person all the worstvices of the East, without apparently possessing any of the East'sredeeming virtues, cherished a very bitter hatred of the English. Surajah Dowlah was unblessed with the faintest glimmerings ofstatesmanship; it seemed to his enfeebled mind that it would be notonly a very good thing to drive the English out of Bengal, but that itwould be also an exceedingly easy thing to do. All he wanted, itseemed to him, was a pretext, and to such a mind a pretext was readilyforthcoming. Had not the English dogs fortified their settlementwithout his permission? Had they not afforded shelter to some victimflying from his omnivorous rapacity? These were pretexts good enoughto serve the insane brain of Surajah Dowlah. He attacked Fort Williamwith an overwhelming force; the English traders, unwarlike, timorous, and deserted by their leaders, made little or no resistance; the madmanhad Fort William in his power, and used his power like a madman. Thememory of the Blackhole of Calcutta still remains a mark of horror andof terror upon our annals of Indian empire. When Lord Macaulay, eighty-four years after the event, penned his famous passage in whichhe declared that nothing in history or in fiction, not even the storywhich Ugolino told in the sea of everlasting ice, approached thehorrors of the Blackhole, he wrote before the worst horrors of Indianhistory had yet become portion and parcel of our own history. But eventhose who write to-day, more than a century and a quarter after thattime; those in whose minds the memories are fresh of the butcher's wellat Cawnpore and the massacre on the river-bank; those to whom the namesof Nana Sahib and Azimoolah Khan sound as horridly as the names offiends--even those can still think of the Blackhole as almostincomparable in horror, and of Surajah Dowlah as among the worst ofOriental murderers. It is true that certain efforts have been made toreduce the {267} measure of Surajah Dowlah's guilt. Colonel Malleson, than whom there is no fairer or abler Indian historian, thinks therecan be no doubt that Surajah Dowlah did not desire the death of hisEnglish prisoners. Mr. Holwell, one of the few survivors of that awfulnight, the man whose narrative thrilled and still thrills, horrifiedand still horrifies, the civilized world, does give testimony that goestowards clearing the character of Surajah Dowlah from direct complicityin that terrible crime. "I had in all three interviews with him, " hewrote, "the last in Darbar before seven, when he repeated hisassurances to me, on the word of a soldier, that no harm should come tous; and, indeed, I believe his orders were only general that we forthat night should be secured, and that what followed was the result ofrevenge and resentment in the breasts of the lower jemidars to whosecustody we were delivered for the number of their order killed duringthe siege. " Yet these words do not go far to cleanse Surajah Dowlah'smemory. What had occurred? The English prisoners were brought beforethe triumphant Nabob, bullied and insulted, and finally left in chargeof the Nabob's soldiery, while the Nabob himself retired to slumber. The soldiery, whether prompted by revenge or mere merciless cruelty, forced the prisoners, one hundred and forty-six in number, into thegarrison prison--a fearful place, only twenty feet square, known as theBlackhole. The senses sicken in reading what happened after thisdetermination was carried out. The death-struggles of those unhappyEnglish people crowded in that narrow space, without air, in thefearful summer heat, stir the profoundest pity, the profoundestanguish. The Nabob's soldiers all through that fearful night revelledin the sights and sounds that their victims' sufferings offered to them. 

When the night did end and the awakened despot did allow the door ofthe Blackhole to be opened, only twenty-three out of the hundred andforty-six victims were alive. The hundred and twenty-three dead bodieswere hurriedly buried in a common pit. 

{268}

It is simply impossible to exonerate Surajah Dowlah from the shame andstain of that deed. The savage who passed "the word of a soldier" thatthe lives of his prisoners should be spared took no precautions toinsure the carrying out of his promise. If, as Mr. Holwell says, thelower jemidars were thirsting for revenge, then the Nabob, who gave hisprisoners over to the care of those jemidars, was directly responsiblefor their deeds. Even in Surajah Dowlah's army there must have beenmen, there must have been officers, to whom the tyrant, if he hadwished his prisoners to be well treated, could have intrusted them, inthe full confidence and certainty that his commands would be carriedout, and his humane wishes humanely interpreted. But even if by theutmost straining we can in any degree acquit the Nabob of directpersonal responsibility before the act, his subsequent conduct involveshim in direct complicity, and forces upon him all the responsibilityand all the infamy. He did not punish the miscreants who forced theirvictims into the Blackhole, and who gloated over their appallingsufferings. He did not treat the survivors with ordinary humanity. Hewas evidently convinced that he could deal with the wretched English ashe pleased, that their power in India was annihilated, that SurajahDowlah was among the mightiest princes of the earth. 

[Sidenote: 1757--Plot and counterplot]

For six long months, for a fantastical half-year, Surajah Dowlahrevelled in the crazy dream of his own omnipotence. Then cameretribution, swift, successive, comprehensive. Clive was uponhim--Clive the unconquerable, sacking his towns, putting his garrisonsto the sword, recapturing those places from which Surajah Dowlah hadimagined that he had banished the Englishman forever. The news of thetragedy of the Blackhole, and of the capture of Calcutta and FortWilliam, had reached Madras in August, and the warlike community hadresolved upon prompt and speedy revenge. But it took time to raise theexpedition, took time to despatch the expedition. In October the armyof two thousand four hundred men, {269} of which nine hundred wereEuropean troops, and fifteen hundred Sepoys, sailed for the Hoogly, under Clive as military, and Admiral Watson as naval, commander. Hostile winds delayed the armament until December, but when it didreach its destination it carried all before it. The luck which alwaysattended upon Clive was still faithful to him. The Nabob, at the headof his vast hordes, was soon as eager to come to terms with Clive atthe head of his little handful of men as he had before been eager toobliterate the recollection of the Englishmen from the soil of Bengal. He offered to treat with Clive; he was ready to make terms which from amilitary point of view were satisfactory; he was evidently convincedthat he had underrated the power of England, and he was prepared to paya heavy penalty for his blunder. 

We are now approaching that chapter of Clive's career which has servedhis enemies with their readiest weapon, and has filled his admirerswith the deepest regret. The negotiations between Clive and SurajahDowlah were conducted on the part of all the Orientals concerned, fromSurajah Dowlah to Omichund, the wealthy Bengalee who played the part ofgo-between, with an amount of treachery that has not been surpassedeven in the tortuous records of Oriental treachery. But unhappily thetreachery was not confined to the Oriental negotiators; not confined tothe wretched despot on the throne; not confined to Meer Jaffier, theprincipal commander of his troops, who wanted the throne for himself;not confined to the unscrupulous Omichund, who plotted with his lefthand against Surajah Dowlah, and with his right hand against theEnglish. Treachery as audacious, treachery more ingenious, treacherymore successful, was deliberately practised by Clive. The brilliantand gallant soldier of fortune showed himself to be more than a matchfor Oriental cunning in all the worst vices of a vicious Orientaldiplomacy. If Surajah Dowlah was unable to make up his miserable mind, if he alternately promised and denied, cajoled and threatened, Clive, on his side, while affecting to treat {270} with Surajah Dowlah, wasdeliberately supporting the powerful conspiracy against Surajah Dowlah, the object of which was to place Meer Jaffier on the throne. IfOmichund, with the keys of the conspiracy in his hand, threatened tobetray all to Surajah Dowlah unless he was promised the heaviesthush-money, Clive on his side was perfectly ready to promise withoutthe remotest intention of paying. If Omichund, wary and suspicious, was determined to have his bond in writing, Clive was quite ready tomeet him with a false and fraudulent bond. Clive professed to beperfectly willing that in the secret treaty which was being drawn upbetween the English and Meer Jaffier a clause should be insertedpromising the fulfilment of all Omichund's claims. But as Clive hadnot the remotest intention of satisfying those claims, he composedlyprepared two treaties. One--the one by which he and Meer Jaffier wereto be bound--was written on white paper, and contained no allusion tothe avaricious Omichund. [Sidenote: 1757--The Red Treaty] Another, onred paper, which was to be disregarded by the parties to the swindle, contained a paragraph according to Omichund's heart's desire. Thus badbegins, but worse remains behind. Clive, to his great astonishment, found that Admiral Watson entertained different views from his aboutthe honor of an English soldier and gentleman. However convenient itmight be to bamboozle Omichund with a sham treaty, Admiral Watsondeclined to be a party to the trick by signing his name to thefraudulent document. Yet Admiral Watson's name was essential to thesuccess of the Red Treaty, and Clive showed that he was not a man tostick at trifles. He wanted Admiral Watson's signature; he knew thatOmichund would want Admiral Watson's signature; he satisfied himself, and he satisfied Omichund, by forging Admiral Watson's signature at thebottom of the Red Treaty. 

It is simply impossible to imagine any defence of Clive's conduct inthis most disgraceful business. The best that can be said for him isthat the whole process of the {271} treason was so infamous, thefabrication of the Red Treaty so revolting a piece of duplicity, thatthe forging of Admiral Watson's name does not materially add to thedarkness of the complete transaction. Nothing can palliate Clive'sconduct. It may, indeed, be said that as civilized troops after longengagements in petty wars with savage races lose that morale anddiscipline which come from contests with their military peers, so mindssteeped in the degrading atmosphere of Oriental diplomacy becomeinevitably corrupted, and lose the fine distinction between right andwrong. But so specious a piece of special pleading cannot serveClive's turn. English diplomacy at home and abroad has always, withthe rarest exceptions, plumed itself on its truthfulness, and has oftenbeen successful by reason of that very truthfulness. The practicallyunanimous condemnation which Clive's countrymen then and since havepassed upon his action with regard to the Red Treaty is the best answerto all such pitiful prevarications. 

However, Clive did prepare a sham treaty, did forge Admiral Watson'sname, did fool Omichund to the top of his bent. Omichund being thuscunningly bought over, Clive prepared for action, flung defiance atSurajah Dowlah, and marched against him. On June 23, 1757, the fate ofEngland in India was decided by the famous battle of Plassey, or, as itshould be more correctly called, Palasi. 

Plassey was a great victory. Yet, in the words of the conspirator inBen Jonson's "Catiline, " it was but "a cast at dice in Fortune's hand"that it might have been a great defeat, Clive was astonishingly, grotesquely out-numbered. The legendary deeds of chivalrous paladinswho at the head of a little body of knights sweep away whole hosts ofpaynims at Saragossa or Roncesvalles were rivalled by Clive's audacityin opposing his few regiments to the swollen armament of the Nabob. Moreover, Meer Jaffier, whose alliance with the English, whose treasonto Surajah Dowlah, was an important part of the scheme, {272} was notto be counted upon. He hesitated, unwilling to fling his fortunes intothe English scale before he was convinced that the English were certainof success, although he was himself one of the most important factorsin the possibility of that success. But the greatest danger thatthreatened the English arms was, curiously enough, due to Clivehimself. On the eve of Plassey he held a council of war at which itwas discussed whether they should fight at once or postpone fighting towhat might seem a more seasonable opportunity. Clive at this councildeparted from his usual custom. He gave his own vote first, and hevoted against taking any immediate action. Naturally enough, themajority of the council of war voted with Clive, in spite of thestrenuous opposition of Major Eyre Coote and a small minority. By amajority of thirteen to seven it was resolved not to fight. 

It is needless to speculate on what would have been the fortunes of theEnglish in Bengal if that vote had settled the question. Luckily, Clive was a man of genius, and was not either afraid to admit that hehad made a mistake, or to change his mind. A short period of solitaryreflection convinced him that he and the majority were wrong, and thatEyre Coote and the minority were right. He informed Eyre Coote of hisnew decision, gave the necessary orders, and the next day the battle ofPlassey was fought and won. 

It is not necessary here to go into the details of that momentous day. The desperate courage, daring, and skill of the English troops carriedall before them; their cannonade scattered death and confusion into theNabob's ranks. Within an hour an army of sixty thousand men wasdefeated, with astonishingly slight loss to the victors; SurajahDowlah, abandoned at the judicious moment by one traitor, Meer Jaffier, was flying for his life in obedience to the insidious counsels ofanother traitor, Rajah Dulab Ram. From that hour Bengal became part ofthe English empire. 

{273}

The fate of the different actors on the Indian side was soon decided. Meer Jaffier was duly invested with the Nabob's authority over Bengal, Behar, and Orissa; Omichund, on learning the shameful trick of the RedTreaty, went mad and died mad; Surajah Dowlah was soon captured andpromptly killed by Meer Jaffier: the Blackhole was avenged. 

[Sidenote: 1757--The conqueror returns]

Clive had now reached the pinnacle of his greatness. Victor ofPlassey, Governor of Bengal, he remained in India for three moreresplendent years; he added to the number of his conquests by defeatingthe great enterprise of Shah Alum against Meer Jaffier, and shatteredthe Dutch descent upon the Hoogly--a descent secretly favored by theever-treacherous Meer Jaffier--both on land and sea. Then, with laurelvictory upon his sword, and smooth success strewn before his feet, Clive resolved to return again to England. He sailed from India, fullof honors, in 1760, the year in which George the Second died. When hearrived in England George the Third was king. Here for the moment wemust leave him, the greatest living soldier of his country, with acareer of practically unbroken glory behind him. He had reached hisapogee. We shall meet with him again under less happy conditions, whenthe sun of Plassey had begun to set. 

{274}

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

CHANGES. 

[Sidenote: 1751--"Give us back our eleven days"]

Meanwhile some changes were taking place in political affairs at homewhich were full of importance to the coming time. William Pitt hadtaken office; not, indeed, an office important enough for his genius, but still one which gave him an opportunity of making his power felt. The King still detested him; all the more, perhaps, because it was nowbecoming more and more evident that the King would have to reckon withhim as Prime-minister before very long. The stately form of Pitt was, indeed, already throwing a gigantic shadow before it. Henry Fox, too, was beginning to show himself an administrator and a debater, and, itmay be added, a political intriguer, of all but consummate ability. Murray was beginning to be recognized as a great advocate, and even agreat man. Lyttelton was still making brilliant way in politics, butwas even yet hovering somewhat uncertain between politics andliterature, destined in the end to become another illustration of thecareer marred for both fields by the effort to work in both fields. Onthe other hand, Chesterfield had given up office. He had had a disputewith his colleagues when he was strongly in favor of making a peace, and they would not have it, and he left them to go their own way. Herefused the title of duke which the King offered him. He withdrew forthe remainder of his years to private life, saying: "I have been behindthe scenes both of pleasure and business; I have seen all the coarsepulleys and dirty ropes which exhibit and move all the gaudy machines;and I have seen and smelt the tallow candles which illuminate the whole{275} decoration to the astonishment and admiration of the ignorantmultitude. " He seldom spoke in Parliament afterwards; he was growingdeaf and weary. In 1751 he broke silence, and with success, when hedelivered his celebrated speech on the reform of the calendar. He was"coached, " as we should say now, by two able mathematicians, the Earlof Macclesfield and Mr. Bradley. The ignorant portion of the publicwere greatly excited by what they considered the loss of eleven days, and were strongly opposed to the whole scheme. Years later, when Mr. Bradley was sinking under mortal disease, many people ascribed hissufferings to a judgment from Heaven for having taken part in that"impious undertaking. "

The "impious undertaking" was a very needed scientific reform in thecalendar, which had long before been adopted in some other countries. Julius Caesar was the first great regulator of the calendar; his workin that way was not the least wonderful of his achievements. Thecalculations of his astronomers, however, were discovered in much latertimes to be "out" by eleven minutes in each year. When Pope Gregorythe Thirteenth came to the throne of the papacy, in 1572, he found thatthe eleven minutes had grown by mere process of time to eleven days. He started a new reform of the calendar, which was adopted at once inItaly, Spain, and Portugal. It gradually commended itself to Franceand Germany, and it was adopted by Denmark and Sweden in 1700. Englandonly came into line with the reform of the calendar in 1751. The Actof Parliament which sanctioned the change brought in the use of thewords "new style" and "old style. " Only Russia and Greece now ofEuropean countries cling to the old style. But the new style, as wehave said, was bitterly resented by the mob in England, and every oneremembers Hogarth's picture of the patriot drunk in the gutter with hisbanner near him bearing the inscription, "Give us back our eleven days. "

Chesterfield laughed at the success of his speech on the {276} reformof the calendar, and made little of it. Perhaps he helped thus toexplain the comparative failure of his whole career. Life was to himtoo much of a gibe and a sarcasm, and life will not be taken on thoseterms. 

Lord Chesterfield was then out of the running, and Lord Granville'sactive career had closed. The men of the older school had had theirday; the new men had pushed them from their stools. The age of Walpoleis closed. The age of Chatham is about to open. 

[Sidenote: 1751--Fred's epitaphs]

Early in the year 1751 death removed one of the elements of discordfrom the family circle of George the Second. The end had come forFrederick, Prince of Wales. The long, unnatural struggle was broughtvery suddenly to a close. On the 12th of March, 1751, the prince, whohad been suffering from pleurisy, went to the House of Lords, andcaught a chill which brought on a relapse. "Je sens la mort, " he criedout on the 20th of March, and the princess, hearing the cry, rantowards him, and found that he was indeed dead. The general feeling ofthe country was perhaps not unfairly represented in the famous epigramwhich became the talk of the town:

 "Here lies Fred, Who was alive and is dead. Had it been his father, I had much rather; Had it been his brother, Still better than another; Had it been his sister, No one would have missed her; Had it been the whole generation, Still better for the nation. But since it is only Fred, Who was alive and is dead, There's no more to be said. "

It is curious to contrast this grim suggestion for an epitaph on thedead prince with the stately volume which the University of Oxfordissued from the Clarendon Press: "Epicedia Oxoniensia in obitumcelsissimi et desideratissimi Frederici Principis Walliae. " Here an{277} obsequious vice-chancellor displayed all the splendors of atinsel Latinity in the affectation of offering a despairing king andfather such consolations for his loss as the Oxonian Muses might offer. Here Lord Viscount Stormont, in desperate imitation of Milton, did hisbest to teach

 "The mimic Nymph that haunts the winding Verge And oozy current of Parisian Seine"

to weep for Frederick. 

 "For well was Fred'rick loved and well deserv'd, His voice was ever sweet, and on his lips Attended ever the alluring grace Of gentle lowliness and social zeal. "

The hind who labored was to weep for him, and the artificer to ply hisvaried woof in sullen sadness, and the mariner, "Who many moons Has counted, beating still the foamy Surge, And treads at last the wish'd-for beach, shall stand Appall'd at the sad tale. "

Here all the learned languages, and not the learned languages alone, contributed their syllables of simulated despair. Many scholasticgentlemen mourned in Greek; James Stillingfleet found vent in Hebrew;Mr. Betts concealed his tears under the cloak of the Syriac speech;George Costard sorrowed in Arabic that might have amazed Abul'Atahiyeh; Mr. Swinton's learned sock stirred him to Phoenician andEtruscan; and Mr. Evans, full of national fire and the traditions ofthe bards, delivered himself, and at great length too, in Welsh. Thewail of this "Welsh fairy" is the fine flower of this funeral wreath ofpedantic and unconscious irony. 

Poor Frederick had played a little with literature in his idle time. He had amused himself with letters as he had amused himself withliterary men, and sometimes with rallying a bevy of the maids of honorto the bombardment of a pasteboard citadel and a cannonade ofsugar-plums. {278} He had written verses; among the rest, a lovetribute to his wife, full of rapture and enriched with the mostoutspoken description of her various charms of person, which, however, he assures us, were nothing to her charms of mind. Probably he wasvery fond of his wife; we have already said that it is likely hecarried on his amours with other women chiefly because he thought itone of the duties of his princely station. Perhaps we may assume thathe must have had some good qualities of his own; he certainly gotlittle teaching or example of goodness from most of those whosurrounded him in the days when he could yet have been taught. 

The new heir to the throne was George, Frederick's eldest son, who wasborn in London on June 4, 1738, and was now, therefore, in histhirteenth year. Frederick's wife had already given birth to eightchildren, and was expected very soon to bring forth another. Georgewas a seven-months' child. His health was so miserably delicate thatit was believed he could not live. It was doubted at first whether itwould be physically possible to rear him; and it would not have beenpossible if the ordinary Court customs were to be followed. But theinfant George was wisely handed over to the charge of a robust andhealthy young peasant woman, a gardener's wife, who took fondest careof him and adored him, and by whose early nursing he lived to be Georgethe Third. 

[Sidenote: 1753--The last of Bolingbroke]

The year 1751, which may be said to have opened with the death of poorFrederick, closed with the death of a man greater by far than anyprince of the House of Hanover. On December 12th Bolingbroke passedaway. He had settled himself quietly down in his old home atBattersea, and there he died. He had outlived his closest friends andhis keenest enemies. The wife--the second wife--to whom, with all hisfaults, he had been much devoted--was long dead. Pope and Gay, andArbuthnot, and "Matt" Prior and Swift were dead. Walpole, his greatopponent, was dead. All chance of a return to public life had fadedyears before. New conditions and {279} new men had arisen. He wasold--was in his seventy-fourth year; there was not much left to him tolive for. There had been a good deal of the spirit of the classicphilosopher about him--the school of Epictetus, not the school ofAristotle or Plato. He was a Georgian Epictetus with a dash ofGallicized grace about him. He made the most out of everything as itcame, and probably got some comfort out of disappointment as well asout of success. Life had been for him one long dramatic performance, and he played it out consistently to the end. He had long believedhimself a formidable enemy to Christianity--at least to revealedreligion. He made arrangements by his will for the publication, amongother writings, of certain essays which were designed to giveChristianity its death-blow, and, having satisfactorily settled thatbusiness and disposed in advance of the faith of coming ages, he turnedhis face to the wall and died. 

The reign of George the Second was not a great era of reform; but therewas accomplished about this time a measure of reform which we cannotomit to mention. This was the Marriage Act, brought in and passed byLord Hardwicke, the Lord Chancellor, in 1753. The Marriage Actprovided that no marriage should be legal in England unless the bannshad been put up in the parish church for three successive Sundayspreviously, or a special license had been obtained from the archbishop, and unless the marriage were celebrated in the parish church. The Billprovided that any clergyman celebrating a marriage without theseformalities should be liable to penal servitude for seven years. Thispiece of legislation put a stop to some of the most shocking anddisgraceful abuses in certain classes of English social life. Withother abuses went the infamous Fleet marriages--marriages performed bybroken-down and disreputable clergymen whose headquarters were verycommonly the Fleet prison--"couple-beggars" who would perform themarriage ceremony between any man and woman without asking questions, sometimes not even asking their names, provided {280} they got a feefor the performance. Men of this class, a scandal to their order, andstill more to the system of law which allowed them to flourish, were tobe found at almost every pothouse in the populous neighborhoods, readyto ply their trade at any moment. Perhaps a drunken young lad wasbrought up to be married in a half unconscious state to some elderlyprostitute, perhaps some rich young woman was carried off against herwill to be married forcibly to some man who wanted her money. TheFleet parson asked no questions, did his work, and pocketed hisfee--and the marriage was legal. Lord Hardwicke's Act stopped thebusiness and relegated the Fleet parson to the pages of romance. 

[Sidenote: 1759--England's control in North America]

Years went on--years of quiet at home, save for little ministerialwrangles--years of almost uninterrupted war abroad. The peace that waspatched up at Aix-la-Chapelle was evidently a peace that could notlast--that was not meant to last. If no other European power wouldhave broken it, England herself probably would, for the arrangementswere believed at home to be very much to her disadvantage, and werehighly unpopular. But there was no need for England to begin. TheFamily Compact was in full force. The Bourbons of France weredetermined to gain more than they had got; the Bourbons of Spain wereeager to recover what they had lost. The genius and daring ofFrederick of Prussia were not likely to remain inactive. As we haveseen, the war between England and France raged on in India withoutregard to treaties and truces on the European continent. There was, infact, a great trial of strength going on, and it had to be fought out. England and France had yet another stage to struggle on as well asEurope and India. They had the continent of North America. There werealways some disputes about boundaries going on there; and a disputeconcerning a boundary between two States which are mistrustful of oneanother is like a flickering flame close to a train of gunpowder. Therenewal of war on the Continent gave for the first time its full chanceto the {281} genius of William Pitt as a great war minister. Thebreaking out of war in North America established England as thecontrolling power there, and settled forever the pretensions of Franceand of Spain. It is not necessary for us in this history to follow thecourse of the continental wars. The great results of these to Englandwere worked out on other soil. 

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CHAPTER XL. 

CANADA. 

[Sidenote: 1756--The struggle for Canada]

We have seen that, when the young Duke of Cumberland, after the battleof Culloden, was earning his right to the title of "Butcher, " oneEnglish officer at least had the courage to protest by his actionsagainst the atrocities of the English general. That soldier was JamesWolfe, then a young lieutenant-colonel, who had served hisapprenticeship to arms in the Low Countries in the war of the AustrianSuccession, and earned by his courage and his abilities an honorablename. He was destined to make that name famous by the part he was toplay in the events that were taking place in Canada. The red-haired, unattractive soldier, whose cold and almost repellent manner concealedsome of the highest qualities, was fated to do as much for the glory ofthe English Empire in one part of the world as Clive in another. Butthere could hardly be two men more different than Clive and Wolfe. Theone was always an adventurer--a gentleman adventurer, indeed, and abrilliant specimen of the class, but an adventurer still, and with someof the worst vices of his kind. Wolfe, on the contrary, resembled morethe better men among those Puritan soldiers who rallied around the nameof Cromwell and battled beneath the standards of Monk. He cherished anaustere ideal of public and private virtue. The sweet, simple gravityof the man's nature lives for us very vividly in the portrait Thackeraydraws of him in the pages of "The Virginians, " where so many of thefamous figures of the crowded last century world seem to take bodilyshape again and live and move around us. 

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From the end of the fifteenth century, when John and Sebastian Cabotdiscovered Canada, France considered that portion of the New World asher own. Early in the sixteenth century a French expedition underVerazzani formed a settlement named New France, and eleven years laterthe Breton Jacques Cartier ascended the St. Lawrence as far as the siteof Montreal. The first permanent settlement was made in 1608, whenQuebec was founded. From that time Quebec seems like the prize forwhich English and French arms are to strive. Canada was taken by theEnglish in 1629, only to be restored in 1632; but when more than acentury later France and England were newly at war, the serious andfinal struggle for the possession of Canada took place. 

The French settlements in America were called Canada and Louisiana. The one comprehended the basin of the St. Lawrence River and the GreatLakes, with a vast extent of territory west and north to the Pacificand Arctic oceans. It was, as has been happily said, a convenientmaxim in those days of our colonization, that whoever possessed thecoast had a right to all the inland territory as far as from sea tosea. While this gave England its boundaries from north to south, itleft from east to west open to French fancy and French ambition. Louisiana was a term which covered in English eyes only the Mississippimouths and a few stations along the Mississippi and Ohio valleys; inFrench minds the term extended to all the territory bounded to thenorth by Canada and to the south by Mexico, and stretching from theAlleghanies to the Pacific. 

The French settlements in Canada were administered very much upon thesame happy-go-lucky system as that which prevailed in France at homeunder the beneficent influence of the Old Order, and which at home wasslowly and surely preparing the way for the French Revolution. Theministers in Paris governed the colonies through governors who weresupreme in their own districts, but who possessed no power whatever ofinitiating any laws for the people they swayed. 

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The English colonies were very different from those of the French. Founded in the early days of religious persecution by men toostrong-minded to accept tyranny or to make composition with theirconsciences, the new colonies of Englishmen in America had thriven inaccordance with the antique spirit of independence which had calledthem into existence. The colonists were a hardy, a stubborn, and ahigh-minded people, well fitted to battle with the elements and theIndians, and to preserve, under new conditions, the austere standard ofmorality which led them to look for liberty across the sea. The creedwhich they professed endowed them with a capacity for self-government, and taught them the arts of administration and the polity of freeStates. The English colonies, as they throve and extended, were notwithout their faults. The faith which their founders professed was agloomy faith, and left its mark in gloom upon the characters of thepeople and the tenor of their laws. The Ironside quality of theircreed showed itself in the cruelties with which they visited theIndians; the severity of their tenets was felt by all who could notreadily adapt themselves to the adamantine ethics of men of the type ofEndicott and Mather. There was not wanting, too, a spirit oflawlessness in the English America, curiously in contrast with thelaw-abiding character of the Non-conformist colonizations. Along theseaboard wild pirates nestled, skimmers of the seas of the most daringtype, worthy brethren of the Kidds, the Blackbeards, and the Teaches, terrors of the merchantman and the well-disposed emigrant. But inspite of the sternness of the law-abiding, and the savageness of thelawless portions of the English settlements, they contrasted favorablyin every way with the settlements which were nominally French and thecentres of colonization which hoisted the French flag. 

[Sidenote: 1754--Young Mr. Washington]

After a long stretch of threatened hostilities, the pinch came at lastin 1753, when the two nations met on the banks of the Ohio. Themeeting meant one of the greatest and most momentous series of wars inthe century. {285} French soldiers invaded all the settlements of theOhio company and drove the settlers out. The Governor of Virginia sentan ambassador to the French officer commanding on the Ohio, and choseas his ambassador a young Virginian gentleman then absolutely unknownexcept to the small circle of his personal friends, but destined tobecome one of the most famous, and most deservedly famous, men inhistory. Young Mr. George Washington bore Governor Dinwiddie's messageover 500 miles through the wilderness at the peril of his life. Thatexpedition, says Irving, "may be considered the foundation of hisfortunes. From that moment he was the rising hope of Virginia. " TheFrench commander informed the young envoy that he proposed to hold Ohioand drive the English out. Back went George Washington through thewilderness again with this discouraging reply. After that hostilitieswere inevitable. The next year Washington, then lieutenant-colonel, led a small force to the frontier, and fired the first shot against theenemy. It is curious to think of all the results that followed fromthat first shot. The fall of the French colonies in America, theestablishment of the American Republic, the French Revolution--all may, by the simplest process of causation, be traced back to the first shotfired by Washington's command against a petty officer on the frontier. That shot echoes on the Plains of Abraham, at Lexington and Bunker'sHill, at the taking of the Bastille, and with the "whiff ofgrape-shot"; we may hear it at Waterloo and in the autumn horrors ofthe Coup d'État. 

France had long been ambitious of extending the domain of her colonialempire in America. Her aim was to secure for herself the Mississippiand Ohio valleys. Securing these meant many things to France. Itmeant the connection of her Mexican colonies with Canada, but it meantmuch more than this; it meant serious annoyance to England, seriouslimitation to English commerce. It would make the Alleghany mountainsthe western limits of the English colonies, hamper the English tradewith {286} the Indians, and expose to French attack the English on thenorth, south, and west. In this year 1754, therefore, she deliberatelydrove the English out of West Pennsylvania, and set up her staff thereby building Fort Duquesne to command the Ohio Valley. At that time thechief British commander in America was General Braddock, a joyous, rollicking soldier of the old-fashioned type, rather popular in Londonas a good companion and good fellow, who loved his glass with a morethan merely convivial enthusiasm. But he was not the sort of man whowas fitted to fight the French just then and there. In the open fieldand under ordinary conditions he might have done well enough, but thewar with France in the American colonies was not pursued under ordinaryconditions. It was fought on the lines of Indian warfare, withmurderous Indian allies, against whom the jolly general of the Londontables and the St. James's clubs was wholly unfitted to cope. Thoughhe had been warned by Sir P. K. Halkett, who knew the danger, Braddockactually insisted upon advancing with astonishing recklessness againstFort Duquesne as if he were marching at the head of an invincible forceto the easiest possible success. The result of his heedlessness is oneof the grimmest spots in English colonial history. 

[Sidenote: 1759--James Wolfe]

Braddock's forces were cut to pieces: very few of his stout thousandescaped to spread horror through the English colonies by the news oftheir misfortunes. The banner of the Leopard had gone down indeedbefore the white coats and the Silver Lilies of France and the paintedfantasies of Indian braves and sachems. The fair hair of Englishsoldiers graced the wigwams of the wild and remorseless Red Man, and itseemed for the moment as if the fighting power of England had gone. But, indeed, English fighting power was made of sterner stuff. Thefact is, perhaps, never more happily exemplified than in this verystory of the dying Braddock himself. As he was carried away, bleeding, to his death, from that fatal ambuscade, something of the hero animatedand exalted {287} the spirit of that drink-hardy and foolhardy soldier. "I must do better another time, " he is reported to have said; and itwould not be easy to say with what gallanter words a stout soldiercould go to his account. Against such a spirit as that which animatedthe dying Braddock the soldiers of France were not destined to triumph. "The last of the Gracchi, " said Mirabeau, "when dying, flung dust toheaven, and from that dust sprang Marias. " Braddock, promising himselfto do better next time, spoke not indeed for himself, but for hisnation. The next time came in its due season, but the man who "didbetter, " who carried that "banner of the Leopard" high over the Lilies, was not Braddock, but James Wolfe. 

England thirsted for revenge. The years came and the years went, andat last they brought the hour and the men. An elaborate campaign in1759 had been prepared, by which Amherst, coming by Lake George, Ticonderoga, and Lake Champlain; Prideaux and Johnson coming by FortNiagara, Lake Ontario, and Montreal; and Wolfe coming by the St. Lawrence River, were to unite in attacking Quebec. But the first twodivisions of the whole force were unable to make the connection in thedue time, and to Wolfe's command alone was given the honor of assailingQuebec. He advanced up the St. Lawrence with some 7000 men and thefleet under Admiral Saunders, and encamped on the Island of St. Orleansin the St. Lawrence River, some eight miles from Quebec. The wholeworld, perhaps, hardly holds a scene more picturesque, whether lookedat from above or from below, from the rock or from the river, than thatwhich is given by the city of Quebec. At some places the bold mass ofrock and clay descends almost sheer to the lower level and theriver-shore. One can see that splendid heap of rock and clay from thedistant Falls of Montmorency, standing out as the Acropolis of Athensor as Acrocorinth may be seen from some far-off point of view. Thenewer part of the city and the fortifications are perched high upon thegreat mound or mass of clay and rock, which looks over the {288}confluence of a mighty river and a great stream. The lower and oldertown creeps and straggles along the base of the rock and by the edgesof the river. Here are the old market-places, the quaint old streets, the ancient wharfs, the crumbling houses, the narrow lanes, the curiousinlets, of past generations, and the crude shanties of yesterday andthe day before yesterday. From this lower level broad roads now windup to what would be called the better part of the city--the region ofthe hotels, and the clubs, and the official buildings, and thefashionable residences. But until lately these roads passed under theancient gate-ways of the city--gate-ways that reminded one of the Gateof Calais, and brought back suggestions of Hogarth's famous picture. In more recent years, however, the restless spirit of modernimprovement has invaded even Quebec, and all, or nearly all, theancient gate-ways, the gate-ways of the days of Wolfe, have bowed tothe fate of Temple Bar. Yet even to-day the traveller in Canada whostands upon that height may vividly recall the scene that lay beforethe eyes of Wolfe during that memorable campaign. 

Wolfe made an attempt to carry a battery above the Montmorency mouth, but failed, and was repulsed with considerable loss. He then castabout him if it were possible to attack the town from the Heights ofAbraham on the southern side. It seemed on the face of it animpossibility. How was it possible for the attacking force to make itsway unseen by the French up the precipitous cliffs to the Heights ofAbraham? Luckily, there was a young man in Wolfe's army, a LieutenantMcCulloch, who had been held prisoner in Quebec in 1756. With a viewto future possibilities, he employed his time in surveying the cliffs, and he thought that he had discovered a particular spot where the steephills might be successfully scaled by an attacking force. He nowcommunicated this to Wolfe. Indeed, the idea of attack in this wayseems to have been suggested by him, and on the memorable Septembernight the attempt was made. 

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[Sidenote: 1759--Wolfe's tribute to literature]

Who has not heard--who has not been touched and thrilled by the storyof Wolfe, while being rowed across the spreading waters of the St. Lawrence to the cove where the attempt was to be made, repeating in lowtones to his officers near him Gray's "Elegy in a Country Church-yard"?Who does not remember Wolfe's famous saying that he would rather havewritten the Elegy than take Quebec? It is a fine saying, akin to thatof Caesar when he swore that he would rather be the first man in anobscure Italian village than the second man in Rome. We may perhapstake the liberty of questioning the absolute accuracy of either saying. In Caesar's case he was, no doubt, sufficiently conscious that he wasgoing to be the first man in Rome. In Wolfe's case we may well believethat his exquisite tribute to literature, and to the most charming workof one of the most charming men of letters then alive, was not meantvery seriously. He was a soldier; Quebec was his duty; Quebec was tobe his fame. But it is one of those sayings that live forever, and themere thought of it at once calls up two widely different pictures, pictures of places in two widely different parts of the world. Oneshows the shining, swelling St. Lawrence River and the dead hour ofnight, and those slowly moving boats of hushed heroes creeping acrossthe waters to where the mighty Quebec hills gloomed hugely out. Theother is of that quiet church-yard in England, at Stoke Pogis, nearSlough, where pilgrims from many parts of the world still wanderthrough the pleasant Buckinghamshire fields to stand where Grayconceived his Elegy. 

Wolfe carried out his plan to perfection. Day was dawning as themajority of his forces formed upon the Heights of Abraham. It was sixin the morning before Montcalm's irregulars were upon the field, andnine o'clock before the French army was in position for action. At teno'clock the battle began. It did not last very long. Whether theFrench were utterly disheartened or not by the appearance sounexpectedly of the {290} English on the ground, which they had deemedunassailable, certain is it that they made a poor fight of it. Thoughthe French forces amounted to nearly double the English strength, thewhole battle, from the first French advance to their utter rout andflight, did not last a quarter of an hour. It was one of the sharpestand the strangest battles in history. Both sides lost their generals. Montcalm was killed; Wolfe, charging gallantly at the head of his men, fell mortally wounded. The wild cry, "They run!" echoed in his dyingears. He seemed to recover a kind of alertness at the sound, andshaking himself from his deadly stupor, asked, "Who run?" We canimagine the momentary trepidation in that gallant heart: could it behis outnumbered followers? In a moment he was reassured; it was theenemy who fled; with his last breath he gave some strategical orders, and then fell back. "God be praised, I die in peace, " he said, and sopassed away. The time may, perhaps, come when the great game of warwill no longer stir the pulses, and men will no longer feel that theydie in peace after the bloody defeat of their enemies. But so long asthe pulses of men's hearts do answer to any martial music, so long menwill say of Wolfe that he died well as became a soldier, a hero, and agentleman. He sleeps in Greenwich Church. 

[Sidenote: 1759--An old French province]

The pride of England's colonial empire might find new stimulus in theway in which the memory of one of the most brilliant scenes in thestory of England's career is kept green in Quebec. The traveller, standing on Dufferin Terrace to-day, may in his mind's eye see Wolfecrossing the stream on his perilous expedition, may in his mind's earhear him reciting to his officers those lines from Gray's Elegy, andtelling them that he would rather have written such verses than be sureof taking Quebec. His monument is near to the promenade on DufferinTerrace--his monument which, a rare event in war, is the monument alsoof his rival, the French commander, Montcalm, killed in the hour ofdefeat, as Wolfe was at the moment of victory. Quebec itself seems toillustrate in {291} its own progress and its own history the moral ofthat common monument. Quebec is as loyal to the British Crown asVictoria or as the Channel Islands. But it is still in great part anold-fashioned French city. The France that survives there and allthrough the province is not the France of to-day, but the France ofbefore the great Revolution. The stranger seeking his way through thestreets had better, in most cases, question the first crossing-sweeperhe meets in French, and not in English. The English residents are allexpected to speak French. But the English residents and the Frenchlive on terms of the most cordial fraternity. Little quarrels, localquarrels of race and sect, do unquestionably spring up here and therenow and again, but they are only like the disputes of Churchmen andDissenters in an English city, and they threaten no organiccontroversy. England has great reason to be proud of Quebec. TheEnglish flag has a home on those heights which we have already said maychallenge the world for bold picturesqueness and beauty. 

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CHAPTER XLI. 

THE CLOSE OF THE REIGN. 

[Sidenote: 1684-1753--Berkeley]

In the early days of the year 1753 literature and philosophy lost agreat man by the death of Bishop Berkeley. 

George Berkeley was born on March 12, 1684, by the Nore, in the countyKilkenny. His father was an Irishman of English descent, WilliamBerkeley. In the first year of the eighteenth century George Berkeleywent, a lad of fifteen, to the University of Dublin, to TrinityCollege. In Trinity College he remained for thirteen years, studying, thinking, dreaming, bewildering most of the collegians, his colleagues, who seemed to have been unable to make up their minds whether he was agenius or a blockhead. Within the walls of Trinity he worked, gradually and laboriously piecing together and thoughtfully shaping outhis theory of the metaphysical conception of the material world abouthim; poring over Locke and Plato, breathing an atmosphere saturatedwith Cartesianism, his active mind eagerly investigating, exploring, inquiring in all directions, and his hand recording day by day thenotes and stages of his mental development. 

His early philosophical writings rapidly earned him a reputation in thegreat world of London, to which at that time the eyes of allmen--divines, wits, statesmen, philosophers, and poets--turned. It isnot necessary here to dwell upon the nature of those philosophicalwritings, or to enter into any study of the great theory of idealism inwhich he affirmed that there is no proof of the existence of matteranywhere save in our own perceptions. Byron, in his light-hearted way, more than two generations later, dismissed Bishop Berkeley and histheory in the famous couplet--

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 "When Bishop Berkeley said there is no matter, It clearly was no matter what he said"

--a smart saying which Byron did not intend to put forth, and whichnobody would be likely to regard, as a serious summing up of the mentalwork of Berkeley. 

Berkeley came to London in the first winter month of 1713, and made theacquaintance of his great countryman Swift. The Dean was a greatpatron of Berkeley's in those early London days. Swift took Berkeleyto Court, and introduced him or spoke of him to all the greatministers, and pushed his fortunes by all the ways--and they weremany--in his power. Berkeley, with the aid of Swift, was soon madefree of that wonderful republic of letters which then held sway inLondon, and which numbered among its members such men as Steele andAddison, Bolingbroke and Harley, Gay and Arbuthnot, and Pope. Berkeleywas in Addison's box at the first performance of "Cato, " and tasted ofthe author's champagne and burgundy there, and listened with curiousdelight to the mingled applause and hisses that greeted Mr. Pope'sprologue. A little later Berkeley went to Italy as the travellingtutor, the bear-leader, of the son of Ashe, Bishop of Clogher. InItaly he passed some four enchanted years. 

Berkeley came back to England in 1720 to find all England writhing inthe welter and chaos of the South Sea crash. The shame and misery ofthe time appear to have inspired him with a kind of horror of thehollow civilization of the age, and to have given him his firstpromptings towards that ideal community in the remote Atlantic to whichhis mind turned so strongly a little later. He left England speedily, and came home again to Ireland after an absence of eight years. It wasin Ireland that a strange windfall came to him and amazed him. On thatfatal afternoon when Swift, with a legion of wild passions tearing athis heartstrings, rode over to Marley Abbey to fling back at Vanessa'sfeet the letter she had written to Stella, Hester Vanhomrigh received{294} her death-blow. But she lived long enough to inflict a curiouslittle piece of vengeance, the only vengeance in her power, except thenobler revenge of forgiveness, upon the false Cadenus. She had left bywill all the property she possessed to the man she had so madlyworshipped. With the hand of Death upon her, with the raging eyes ofthe Dean still burning upon her brain, she performed the one littlepitiful act of retaliation which is the saddest spot in all her sadhistory; she altered her will, and disinherited her idol. For the nameof Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's, she substituted the name ofanother great Irishman, another great Churchman, another great thinkerand teacher, the name of George Berkeley, Dean--only nominally so, indeed--of Dromore. Berkeley's first idea on receiving this unexpectedwindfall was to employ the money thus almost miraculously placed at hisdisposal in carrying out a scheme which had long been dear to hisheart. This scheme was that he should emigrate to Bermuda, shouldsettle there, and devote the rest of his life to "the reformation ofmanners among the English in our Western plantations, and thepropagation of the Gospel among the American savages. " He was noblyconvinced of the nobility of his dream, and, which was more remarkable, he succeeded in awaking a latent nobility in unexpected places, and inarousing an enthusiasm for this dream of a Bermudan Utopia even incallous hearts and unsympathetic bosoms. 

[Sidenote: 1728--Berkeley's aspirations]

Bermuda became for a while the fashion in the marvellous medley ofLondon society over which the first of the Georges reigned. Peopletalked Bermuda, thought Bermuda, wrote Bermuda. He was indeed aremarkable man whose missionary zeal and eloquence could make Bermudapopular in London with the voice of religion. He was indeed aremarkable man who could impress for a moment the cynical nature ofBolingbroke with something of the fire of his own enthusiasm; who couldinduce Walpole to swell from his own pocket the subscription-list thatwas raised to further Berkeley's schemes; {295} who actually succeededin touching the callous organism which the Elector of Hanover and Kingof England called a heart; and whose one joy on hearing of the Vanessalegacy was at the aid it afforded to his voyage and his pure, unselfishaspirations. Bermuda ever remained a vision for him; but in 1728 heset sail for Rhode Island in the company of his young wife, Miss AnneForster, whom, as he quaintly tells us, he chose "for her qualities ofmind and her unaffected inclination to books. " For more than threeyears he dwelt in America a simple, happy, earnest life. But themission was a failure. To Robert Walpole, Berkeley's plans and hopeswould naturally seem about as deserving of the attention and aid ofpractical men as the ambitions of Don Quixote. The grant promised bythe Government was never sent out, and in 1731 Berkeley came back toEngland. How many of those who are familiar with the line, "Westwardthe course of empire takes its way, " which has been accepted as themotto for one of the best and best-known frescos that adorn the Capitolin Washington, know that it comes from the last verse of a poem whichBerkeley wrote as he was striving to realize a New Atlantis in RhodeIsland?

 "Westward the course of empire takes its way; The first four acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day; Time's noblest offspring is the last. "

Two years of literary and philosophic life in London succeeded to theRhode Island idyl. In 1734 he returned to Ireland for the last time, and dwelt for eighteen years in his bishopric of Cloyne in studiousseclusion with his family, wandering among the myrtle-hedges his ownhand planted, reading Plato and Hooker, teaching his cherisheddaughter, suffering from domestic losses, and proclaiming to anastounded world that tar-water was a panacea for all human ills. Berkeley's genius and his eloquent prose made tar-water as popular asboth had {296} made Bermuda some twenty years earlier. The later yearsof his life at Cloyne are tinged with melancholy. His mind began to beagitated anew with the dream of an academic retreat by other streamsthan the Blackwater and the Leo, and in 1752 he journeyed again toEngland and set up his tent for the last time beneath the shadow of theOxford spires. It was mellow autumn when he came to the City ofScholars. In the chill January weather of the following year he diedsuddenly and peacefully in the midst of his family. He was a great anda good man. The serene purity of his life, his lofty purposes, hisnobility of nature, cause him to stand out very conspicuously in thestrange, cynical, cruel world of English life and English thoughtduring the first half of the eighteenth century. He was in that world, but he was never of it. His friends were either noble of life andmind, or else he saw in them only their nobler qualities, and took nothought of or no harm from the rest. He seems to have been mosthappy--and the fact is characteristic of the man--in the society of thesweet, simple, and studious woman who made him a loving wife, and ofthe children whom he loved with an affection for the excess of which hesometimes reproached himself. All his contemporaries, says Sir JamesMackintosh, agreed with Pope in ascribing

 "To Berkeley every virtue under heaven. "

In 1754 Henry Pelham died. The important consequence of his death wasthe fact that it gave Pitt at last an opportunity of coming to thefront. The Duke of Newcastle, Henry Pelham's brother, became leader ofthe administration, with Henry Fox for Secretary at War, Pitt forPaymaster-general of the Forces, and Murray, afterwards to be famous asLord Mansfield, for Attorney-general. There was some difficulty aboutthe leadership of the House of Commons. Pitt was still too muchdisliked by the King to be available for the position. Fox for a whilerefused to accept it, and Murray was unwilling {297} to do anythingwhich might be likely to withdraw him from the professional path alongwhich he was to move to such distinction. An attempt was made to geton with a Sir Thomas Robinson, a man of no capacity for such aposition, and the attempt was soon an evident failure. Then Foxconsented to take the position on Newcastle's own terms, which werethose of absolute submission to the dictates of Newcastle. Later stillhe was content to descend to a subordinate office which did not evengive him a place in the Cabinet. Fox never recovered the damage whichhis reputation and his influence suffered by this amazing act; the onlyexplanation for which was found in the fact that he loved money betterthan anything in the world, and that the office of Paymaster-generalgave almost limitless opportunities to a rapacious and unscrupulous man. 

[Sidenote: 1757--Admiral Byng]

The Duke of Newcastle's Ministry soon fell. Newcastle was not a manwho had the slightest capacity for controlling or directing a policy ofwar; and the great struggle known as the Seven Years' War had nowbroken out. One lamentable event in the war has to be recorded, although it was but of minor importance. This was the capture ofMinorca by the French under the romantic, gallant, and profligate Ducde Richelieu. The event is memorable chiefly, or only, because it wasfollowed by the trial and execution of the unfortunate Admiral Byng. Admiral Byng, the son of a famous sailor, was sent in command of asmall and a very poorly furnished squadron to the Mediterranean torelieve Minorca. When he readied Gibraltar he found that a Frenchfleet much superior in numbers to his own was blockading the island hewas sent to relieve. Byng called a council of war, and the councildecided that, as they had no instructions from home how to act in theevent of their finding themselves face to face with a superior force, they had better not interfere with the doings of the enemy. Still Byngmade for Minorca, and tried unsuccessfully to open communications withthe garrison. He had a slight engagement {298} with the French, andthen he brought his squadron away. The news created such an outburstof passion in England that the Duke of Newcastle made up his mind atonce to sacrifice Byng to the popular fury. Byng was tried atSpithead, found guilty of having failed in his duty, and shot on March14, 1757. He died like a brave man. It went heavily against Newcastlein later days that he was believed to have promised the sacrifice ofByng before the trial had even begun. No one now believes that Byngwas a coward; and nothing but a miracle could have enabled him withsuch a force to save Minorca. But he failed sadly in his duty, whetherfrom stupidity or irresolution, and probably he would not have cared tooutlive his degradation. The punishment was stern and harsh indeed, but it was a time to excuse sternness on the part of a government onwhom had fallen the conduct of a great war. Pitt did his best toinduce the King to mitigate the penalty in accordance with theunanimous recommendation of the court-martial; but George wasinflexible, and reminded Pitt that he had himself taught the Sovereignto seek outside the House of Commons for the judgment of the Englishpeople. It was to the execution of Byng that Voltaire applied thefamous epigram, "In England it is thought necessary to kill an admiralfrom time to time to encourage the others"--"_pour encourager lesautres_. " Voltaire tried hard to save Byng, and even induced the Ducde Richelieu to write a letter bearing his personal testimony to theunfortunate admiral's courage. 

The Duke of Newcastle resigned office, and for a short time the Duke ofDevonshire was at the head of a coalition Ministry which included Pitt. The King, however, did not stand this long, and one day suddenly turnedthem all out of office. Then a coalition of another kind was formed, which included Newcastle and Pitt, with Henry Fox in the subordinateposition of paymaster. Pitt now for the first time had it all his ownway. He ruled everything in the House of Commons. He flung himselfwith passionate and patriotic energy into the {299} alliance with thatgreat Frederick whose genius and daring were like his own. Pitt was aheaven-born war-minister. His courage and his resources changed thewhole fortunes of the war. He seemed a statesman to organize victory. He stirred up the languishing patriotism of the hour, and filled itwith new and noble inspiration. It was true what George had said tohim--that he had taught, or tried to teach, the Sovereign to seekoutside the House of Commons for the voice of the English people. Butthis was to the honor of Pitt, and not to his discredit. Pitt saw thata legislature returned on such a representation could be no spokesmanof the English people. He knew that intelligence and education werebeginning to spread with increased wealth through large unrepresentedclasses, and even communities. While he had the people behind him hecared little for the Sovereign, and still less for the House ofCommons. His pride was as great as his patriotism; he might be broken, but he could not bend. At last he had found his true place--at thehead of a great nation and during a grand national crisis. 

[Sidenote: 1757--Sterne]

The closing years of George's reign were honored by some literarytriumphs in which George himself could have taken but little interest. In 1755 appeared, in two volumes folio, the English Dictionary bySamuel Johnson. We shall meet with Samuel Johnson a good deal in thefuture course of this history, and have now only to mention as a factthe publication of the work on which he himself believed his fame wasto rest. Another work of a very different kind and by a very differentsort of man appeared in 1759--the first and second volume of "TristramShandy, " by Laurence Sterne. 

Seldom, perhaps, has an author experienced a stranger bringing up thanthat which fell to the lot of Sterne. His father, Roger Sterne, wasone of those luckless persons who seem to be the especial sport of amalicious destiny, in whose hands nothing prospers, from whose handsthievish Fortune filches all opportunities. Roger Sterne was agentleman of good family and narrow means, who {300} had adopted armsas his profession and had not prospered therein. He had married a wifewho was herself a sutler's widow, and who blessed Ensign Sterne with aswift and steady succession of offspring, of whom Laurence was thesecond. It was chance, acting through the impulses of the War Office, which caused little Laurence to see the light on Irish soil; but thoughhe was born in the melodiously named Valley of Honey, there was littleof honeyed sweetness, and much bitterness as of gall and coloquintida, in his early boyhood. Poverty and the eccentric evolutions of amarching regiment contributed to make his a most unenviable childhood. The record, as we can read it in his own account, is disastrous anddreary enough. The regiment to which Roger Sterne belonged wasperpetually on the move; the births and deaths of Mrs. Sterne'schildren succeeded each other with painful rapidity; again and againwas little Laurence in imminent peril of shipwreck on the stormiestseas; he experienced in his earliest years all that was worst and mostdisagreeable in the life of camp-followers. Some account mustnecessarily be taken of this by those who review Sterne's writings. Achild brought up under such conditions is not likely to have a verykeen appreciation of the finer phases of life, and must inevitably havea precocious and most unfortunate familiarity with the seamy side ofexistence. What is commonly called knowledge of the world, which meansknowledge of what is worst in the world, as "seeing life" generallymeans seeing its dirtiest places, undoubtedly Sterne got in plenty, andthe future divine was not improved by the education of the camp. 

The misfortunes that had attended so persistently upon the career ofRoger Sterne culminated at last most tragically, yet at the same timemost ludicrously, as if Destiny had determined to the end to make theluckless ensign her sport. At Gibraltar a quarrel with another officer"about a goose" resulted in a duel. Roger Sterne was run through thebody. He never recovered from the wound, and though in this harshworld he drew his breath {301} in pain a little longer, he died inJamaica of fever, which found his enfeebled frame a ready victim. Oneof the few pleasing characteristics in Laurence Sterne's nature is hisaffectionate memory of his father; one of the most pleasing passages ofall his writings is that in which he describes him. "My father was alittle, smart man, active to the last degree in all exercises, mostpatient of fatigue and disappointment, of which it had pleased God togive him full measure. He was, in his temper, somewhat rapid andhasty"--hence, no doubt, the speaking of hot words and the spilling ofhot blood over that ill-omened goose--"but of a kindly, sweetdisposition, void of all design, and so innocent in his intentions thathe suspected no one, so that you might have cheated him ten times a dayif nine had not been sufficient for your purpose. "

[Sidenote: 1713-1768--"Tristram Shandy"]

Through Halifax School and Cambridge sizarship Laurence Sterne passed, by the patronage of his pluralist uncle, Jacques Sterne, into holyorders and the living of Sutton-on-the-Forest, and so into twenty yearsof almost complete obscurity. We know that he married, that hepreached, played the fiddle, fished, hunted, and read, and that isabout all we know. Then quite suddenly, in 1759, the lazy, lounging, most eccentric, and ill-chosen clergyman enraptured London by thepublication of the first two volumes of "Tristram Shandy. "

The author of "Tristram Shandy" came to town, and was received withmore than Roman triumph. Wealth, wit, genius, nobility, thronged hisdoor, sought his friendship, proffered favors. Sterne revelled in thisnew life. London offered him a cup of the most intoxicating quality, and he drank and drank again of its sparkling fountain without everquenching his thirst for popularity, for flattery, for success. Flattery, popularity, success--all three he had in plenty for eightresplendent years. Volume after volume of "Tristram Shandy" wooed andwon public applause. Sterne travelled abroad and found the sameadulation in other capitals of Europe that he had enjoyed in London. When the popularity of "Shandy" {302} appeared to be on the wane, andthe fame of its author to be dwindling, he whipped it up again with the"Sentimental Journey. " We may finish his story by anticipation. Hedied one of the most tragic deaths recorded in the necrology of genius. He died in London on March 18, 1768, and he died alone. The wish hehad expressed of expiring at an inn untroubled by the presence ofmourning friends was grimly gratified. In lonely lodgings, beneath thespeculative gaze of a memoir-writing footman and the care of hiredhands, Sterne gasped out the words, "Now it is come!" and so died. Hewas buried almost unattended, and his body was stolen from its new-madegrave by resurrectionists, and recognized, when half-dissected, on ananatomist's table by a horrified friend. So the story goes--not, indeed, absolutely authentic, but certainly not absolutely withoutcredit--the melancholy conclusion of an ill-spent life and a splendid, ill-used intellect. 

For his conduct to his wife his memory has been scourged by Thackerayand by his latest biographer, Mr. H. D. Traill. It cannot be tooseverely scourged. He took her youth, he took her money, and he tiredof her, and was untrue to her, and spoke against her in the dastardlyletters he wrote to his friends and in which he has gibbeted himself toall time as a hideous warning, a sort of sentimental scarecrow. "As tothe nature of Sterne's love affairs, " says Mr. Traill, "I have come, though not without hesitation, to the conclusion that they were most, if not all of them, what is called, somewhat absurdly, platonic. . . . But as I am not one of those who hold that the conventionally'innocent' is the equivalent of the morally harmless in this matter, Icannot regard the question as worth any very minute investigation. Iam not sure that the habitual male flirt, who neglects his wife to sitcontinually languishing at the feet of some other woman, gives muchless pain and scandal to others or does much less mischief to himselfand the objects of his adoration than the thorough-going profligate. "

One of the greatest of German writers, Jean Paul Richter, {303}declares more than once that he regards Sterne as his master. Thestatement is amazing. Jean Paul Richter, Jean Paul the Only One, as hewas fondly called, was immeasurably sincerer than his master. All thatwas sham, tinsel, and tawdry in the writings of Yorick was genuine, heart-felt, and soul-inspiring in Jean Paul. Yorick's sentiment waspinchbeck; Jean Paul's was pure gold. All that Richter ever wrote isanimated with the deepest religious feeling, the tenderest sympathy, the gentlest and bravest pity. Yorick, in the black and white of hissacred calling's gown and bands, grins and leers like a disguisedsatyr. His morality is a mummer's mask; his pathos is pretence; theonly thing truly Irish about him is his humor, his ceaseless wit, theunfailing sparkle of his fancy. 

[Sidenote: 1760--A levée under difficulties]

Quite suddenly the ghastly tragicomedy of the King's life came to anend. There was, we are told, a strange affectation of an incapacity tobe sick that ran through the whole royal family, which they carried sofar that few of them were more willing to own any other member of thefamily ill than to acknowledge themselves to be so. "I have known theKing, " says Hervey, "get out of his bed choking with a sore throat, andin a high fever, only to dress and have a levée, and in five minutesundress and return to his bed till the same ridiculous farce of healthwas to be presented the next day at the same hour. " It must be owned, however, that George made a stout fight against ill-health, and if heshammed being well, he kept up the sham for a good long time. He cameinto the world more than a dozen years before Lord Hervey was born, andhe contrived to keep his place in it for some seventeen years afterLord Hervey had died. Time had nearly come round with George as withShakespeare's Cassius; his death fell very near to his birthday. George was born on October 30, 1683, and on October 25, 1760, he was onthe verge of completing his seventy-seventh year. On October 25, 1760, he woke early, as was his custom, drank his chocolate, inquired as tothe quarter whence the wind came, and talked of a walk in the {304}garden. That walk in the garden was never taken. The page whoattended on the King had left the room. He heard a groan and the soundof a fall. [Sidenote: 1727-1760--Passed away] He came back, and foundthe King a helpless heap upon the floor. "Call Amelia, " the dying mangasped; but before Amelia could be called he was dead. Amelia, whenshe came, being a little deaf, did not grasp at once the full extent ofwhat had happened, and bent over her father only to learn in the moststartling and shocking manner that her father was dead. The Countessof Walmoden, too, was sent for. It would seem as if the ample charmsof the Countess of Walmoden, which had delighted George so much whilehe lived, might have some power to conjure him back from the commondoom of kings. But George the Second was dead beyond the power of allthe fat and painted women in the world to help. "Friends, " saysThackeray in his Essay, "he was your fathers' king as well as mine; letus drop a respectful tear over his grave. " But indeed it is very hardto drop a respectful tear over the grave of George the Second. Seldomhas any man been a king with fewer kingly qualities. He had courage, undoubtedly--courage enough to be habitually described by the Jacobitesas "the Captain, " but his courage was the courage of a captain and notof a king. He was obstinate, he was narrow-minded, he was selfish, hewas repulsively and even ridiculously incontinent. The usual quantityof base and servile adulation was poured over the Royal coffin. Thesame abject creatures--they or their kind--that had rhymed their lyingverses over the dead Prince of Wales who had hated his father, nowrhymed their lying verses over the dead king who had hated his son. IfGeorge the Second had been a more common man, instead of being Electorof Hanover and King of England, one might have said of him franklyenough that he was a person about as little to be admired as a man wellcould be who was not a coward or in the ordinary sense of the term acriminal. But because he was a crowned king, it was regarded as apatriotic duty then to make much of the {305} departed monarch, and totalk of him in the strain which would have been appropriate if he hadbeen a Marcus Aurelius. The best, perhaps, that can be said of him isthat, on the whole, all things considered, he might have been worse. It would be unfair to a George who has, at a long interval, to succeedhim, to say that George the Second was actually the worst of his lineand name; but he was so little, so very little, worthy, that thefulsome pens must have labored in his praise. If many people rejoicedat his removal, it would be hard to say who grieved with the exceptionof a few, a select few, of his family and the hangers-on of theWalmoden type, to whom his existence was the essential figure in theirown existence. To the vast bulk of the English people the matter wasof no moment whatever. All that they knew was that a second George, who was Elector of Hanover, had passed away from the English throne, and that a third George, who was Elector of Hanover, had mounted intothe vacant seat. 

Never was a king better served than George the Second; never had soignoble a sovereign such men to make his kingdom strong and his reignfamous. He began his time of royalty under the protection of thesturdy figure of Walpole; he closed it under the protection of thestately form of Pitt. 

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 

{306}

INDEX. 

 Abernethy, Dr. , death, iv. 282. Act for better securing the Dependency of Ireland, i. 177. Act of Settlement, i. 4. Act of Union passed, iii. 327, 330. Acts of Trade, iii. 82, 84, 86, 105. Adams, John: Conduct towards Colonel Preston, iii. 152. Opposes dominion of England, iii. 85. Adams, Samuel, protests against Stamp Act, iii. 90. Addington, Henry, Viscount Sidmouth, Prime Minister, iii. 337. Addison, Joseph: M. P. For Malmesbury, i. 52. Secretary of State; circular letter to English Ministers, ii. 109. Sketch of, i. 37, 180. Address (1715), i. 102. Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen, wife of William IV. , iv. 97. Supposed attitude towards Reform, iv. 172. Agrarian crime, iv. 84, 106. Agriculture in Scotland (1714), i. 87, 89. Agriculture in 1721, i. 229. Aislabie, John: Chancellor of Exchequer, i. 188, 190. Committed to Tower, i. 199. Impeaches Lord Strafford, i. 109, 110. Treasurer of Navy, i. 105. Aix-la-Chapelle, Treaty of, ii. 260, 280. Akerman, Keeper of Newgate, attitude towards mob, iii. 203. Albany, Countess of, wife of Charles Stuart, ii. 233. Alberoni, Giulio: Policy, i. 159. Sketch of, i. 158. Ale-tax in Scotland, i. 249. Ali Vardi Khan, death of, ii. 265. Allan, killed in riot (1768), iii. 120. Allen, Ethan, iii. 179. Almanza, battle of, ii. 35. Althorp, Lord (_see_ Spencer, John Charles, Earl). Amelia, daughter of George III. , death of, iii. 341. Amelia, Princess (_see_ Emily, Princess). American Colonies: Discontent in, iii. 147 _seqq. _ Grievances, iii. 82. Proclaim their Independence, iii. 183. Report on, i. 310. Sketch of history, iii. 74. Systems of governing, i. 310. American Republic acknowledged, iii. 184. Influence on France, iii. 290, 292. American War of Independence, iii. 173 _seqq. _ American War, Second, iii. 344. Amherst, Jeffrey, Baron: Commander-in-Chief, iii. 207. Commands troops in Canada, ii. 287. Amhurst, Nicholas (Caleb d'Anvers), edits _Craftsman_, i. 261. Anaverdi Khan, Nabob of Carnatic, ii. 201. André, Major, death as spy, iii. 184. Anglesey, Marquis of, Viceroy of Ireland, attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iv. 73, 74. Anne, Princess of Orange, ii. 38. Illness, ii. 71, 76. Marriage, ii. 42. Anne, Queen: Character, i. 1, 13. Death, i. 47. Declining health, i. 1. Scheme to reduce expenses, i. 281. "Annual Register": Description of mob in London, iii. 205. Founded by Edmund Burke, iii. 99. Anti-Irish riots, ii. 45. "Anti-Jacobin, " iv. 33. Arbuthnot, John: History of John Bull, i. 97. Sketch of, ii. 20. Arcot, Siege of, ii. 263. Arden, Richard Pepper, iii. 236. Argyll, John Campbell, Duke of, i. 42. Commander-in-Chief for Scotland, i. 98, 123. Sketch of, i. 44. Speech on Convention, ii. 166. Aristotle on administration, ii. 246. Arnold, Benedict, iii. 179. Treason, iii. 184. Ashe, Bishop of Clogher, ii. 293. Ashley, Lord (_see_ Shaftesbury, Earl of). Association of United Irishmen, iii. 309, 313, 319. Atterbury, Francis, Bishop of Rochester, i. 48. Arrested and committed to Tower, i. 212. Banished, i. 222. Evidence against, i. 219, 220, 222. On condition of church, ii. 129. Opposes Septennial Act, i. 146. Sketch of, i. 214. _Auditor_, iii. 15, 55. Augusta, Princess of Saxe-Gotha, wife of Frederick, Prince of Wales, ii. 46, 47; iii. 6, 7. Birth of first child, ii. 104-107. Regency Bill and, iii. 73. Augustus, Elector of Saxony, ii. 23. Augustus II. Of Poland, ii. 23. Aurungzebe, Empire on death of, ii. 257. Austerlitz, Battle of, iii. 338, 339. Austria in 1716, i. 154. 

 Bailly, Mayor of Paris, iii. 298. Ballot system, iv. 131. Balmerino, Lord, trial, ii. 228. Bank of England: Attacked by rioters, iii. 207. Charter renewed, iv. 232. Imitates South Sea Company, i. 189. Barber, John: Letter to Swift, i. 48. On Arbuthnot, ii. 20. Barnard, Sir John: Abandons seceders, ii. 174. On Convention, ii. 162. On grievances against Spaniards, ii. 154, 157. On Walpole's Excise scheme, i. 315. Barré, Colonel, iii. 131, 133, 136. Barry, Richard, Lord Barrymore, iii. 244. Supports Young Pretender, ii. 221. Barry, Sir Charles, designs new Houses of Parliament, iv. 270, 272. Bartholomew Fair, i. 73. Barwell, Richard, iii. 260. Supports Hastings, iii. 260, 261, 264. Bastile captured, iii. 294. Bath in 1714, i. 79. Bathurst, Lord, demands prosecution of rioters, iii. 201. Beaconsfield, Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of: On Lord John Russell, iv. 126. Philippics against Sir Robert Peel, i. 287. Beaux and requisites, i. 76. Bedford, Duke of: Opposes Pitt, iii. 26. Patron of Rigby, iii. 37. Presents petition against Convention, ii. 164. Bellingham, John, shot Spencer Perceval, iii. 341. Benares annexed, iii. 258. Benares, Chait Singh, Rajah of, iii. 269. Bentham, Jeremy, theories of, iv. 281. Béranger, "King of Yvetot, " iv. 119. Berkeley, George Bishop: Character, ii. 296. Lives in Rhode Island, ii. 295. Scheme of Settlement in Bermuda, ii. 294. Sketch of, ii. 292. Berkeley, Lord, of Stratton, describes duel between Colonel Chudleigh and Charles Aldworth, i. 58. Bermuda, Scheme for Settlement in, ii. 294. Bernard, Francis, Governor of Massachusetts, iii. 106, 148. Dissolves Massachusetts Legislature, iii. 150. Recalled, iii. 151. Berwick, James FitzJames, Duke of: Sketch of, ii. 34. Takes Kehl, ii. 24. Bill for Catholic Relief, iii. 190, 191. Bill for Princess Anne's dowry, ii. 43. Bill for strengthening Protestant interest, i. 171, 172. Bill of Rights, i. 3. Bill to adjust affairs of South Sea Company, i. 203, 205. Bill to suspend Habeas Corpus Act, i. 213. Birmingham, iv. 99. Bismarck, Prince, Peace policy, ii. 147. Black Hole of Calcutta, ii. 266, 267; iii. 249. Blackstone, Speech on Middlesex Election Petition, iii. 131. Bland-Burges Papers, ii. 217. Bland-Burges, Sir James, defends Warren Hastings, iii. 277, 278. Bloomfield, patronized by Duke of Grafton, iii. 35. Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, Viscount, i. 22, 115. Advises secession from Commons, ii. 172. Alliance with Pulteney, i. 260; ii. 17. At St. Germains, i. 116. Attitude towards restoration of Stuarts, i. 39, 48, 107. Character, i. 116; ii. 18, 279. Correspondence with James Stuart, ii. 18. Dismissed by James, i. 131. Dreams of Coalition Ministry, ii. 194. Flight, i. 103. Impeached of high treason, i. 108, 110. Inspires _Craftsman_, i. 290. Leaves England for France, ii. 17, 18. Letter to Swift, i. 47. Name erased from roll of peers, i. 114. On Duke of Berwick, ii. 34. On Duke of Shrewsbury, i. 42. On Wyndham's death, ii. 179. Petition to Lords, i. 258. Removed from Secretaryship of State, i. 101. Returns to England, i. 222, 258. Scheme of Opposition, i. 287. Sketch of, i. 26; later life, i. 133; ii. 278, 279. Style as speaker and writer, i. 27. Walpole's portrait of, ii. 15, 16. Bombay, dower of Catherine of Braganza, iii. 248. Boston: Evacuated, iii. 182. Hostile to British, iii. 151. Invested, iii. 175, 181. Life in 1765, iii. 77. Massacre, iii. 151. Protests against Stamp Act, iii. 90. Tea thrown into harbor, ii. 43; iii. 160. Boston, Lord, in hands of mob, iii. 197. Boston Port Bill, iii. 163; copies circulated, iii. 165. Boswell, James: Johnson and, iii. 44. On Alexander Wedderburn, iii. 158. Bourbon family: Aims of, ii. 28. Compacts, ii. 26. Bourne, Vincent, at Westminster School, iii. 53. Braddock, General, defeat and death, ii. 286; iii. 79, 180. Bradley on reform of Calendar, ii. 275. Breed Hill battle, iii. 176. Bremen ceded to Hanover, i. 160, 161. Brewster, Sir David: British Association and, iv. 262. On Newton, i. 273. Bright, John, doctrine of non-intervention, iv. 62. Bristol: Growth of, i. 78. Reform riot at, iv. 171. British Admirals of Eighteenth Century, iii. 336. British Association founded, iv. 262. British garrison proposed for America, iii. 84, 86. British sailor (1797), iii. 334. _Briton_, iii. 51, 55. "Broad-bottomed Ministry, " ii. 245, 246. Bromley, William, motion on Septennial Act, ii. 10, 12. "Brothers" Club, i. 74. Brougham, Henry, Lord Brougham and Vaux: Advice to Queen Caroline, iv. 5. Attitude towards electoral reform, iv. 52. Attitude towards Poor Relief, iv. 223. Attitude towards West Indian Slavery, iv. 192, 193. British Association and, iv. 262. Character, iv. 251. Defends Queen Caroline, iv. 6, 8. Evidence in Cobbett's prosecution, iv. 156. Leader of Opposition, iv. 103. Lord Chancellor, iv. 124. Motion on Reform, iv. 104, 110, 111. Motions against Slavery, iv. 194, 195. Negotiates with King on creation of new peers, iv. 180. On Parliamentary Reform, iv. 85. Oratory, iv. 104, 174. "Penny Cyclopaedia" and, iv. 262. Persuades William IV. To dissolve Parliament, iv. 151. Power as Reformer, iv. 122, 125. Retires from Ministerial life, iv. 251. Scheme for national education, iv. 22. Speech on Catholic Emancipation, iv. 74. Brunswick family, i. 5. Buchanan, messenger of Young Pretender, ii. 205. Buckingham, Earl of, iii. 338. Buckingham House, i. 66. Buckingham Palace, iv. 93. Bunbury, Sir Thomas Charles, marries Lady Sarah Lennox, iii. 10. Burdett, Sir Francis, resolution on Catholic Emancipation, iv. 73. Burgoyne at Boston, iii. 175, 182. Burgoyne surrenders at Saratoga, iii. 183. Burke, Edmund: Alliance with Fox and North, iii. 226. Attitude on American Independence, iii. 87. Attitude towards French Revolution, iii. 285. Career, iii. 96 _seqq. _ Character, iii. 227. Crusade against French Revolution, iii. 296, 298. Denunciation of French Revolution, i. 96. "Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, " iii. 98. Friend of Goldsmith, iii. 168. Impeaches Warren Hastings, iii. 281, 285. Indian policy, iii. 273. Influence on generation, iii. 96, 100. Maiden speech, iii. 100. Marriage, iii. 98. On Ballot system, iv. 131. Boston exploit, iii. 161. Chesterfield's rule in Ireland, ii. 251. Ministry and Wilkes's riots, iii. 121, 122. Townshend, iii. 111. Walpole's opposition to war party, ii. 181. War with Spain, ii. 184. Warren Hastings, iii. 258, 259. Wilkes's reception in London, iii. 116; in Middlesex, iii. 117. Opinion of George IV. , iv. 90. Oratory, iii. 100. Passion for justice, iii. 272. Paymaster-General, iii. 224, 228. Praises of Pitt, iii. 223. Private Secretary to Lord Rockingham, iii. 99. Reproves Charles James Fox, iii. 141. Speech against American war, iii. 188. Speech on Middlesex Election Petition, iii. 132. Vindication of Natural Society, iii. 98. Burke, William, iii. 99. Burnet, Bishop, on: Condition of Church, ii. 129. Duke of Marlborough, i. 23. High and Low Church, i. 17. Queen Anne, i. 2. Burney, Miss, in Burke's arraignment of Hastings, iii. 286. Burns, Robert, on William IV. And Mrs. Jordan, iv. 97. Bury Street, price of lodgings in, in 1714, i. 70. Bute, Lord: Bribery under, iii. 28, 30. Cabals against Pitt, iii. 26. Character, iii. 7, 28. Foreign policy, iii. 28, 29. House besieged, iii. 117. Influence over Princess of Wales and her son, iii. 8. Prime Minister, iii. 28. Proposes cider tax, iii. 30, 32. Resigns office, iii. 32. Secretary of State, iii. 8. Sketch of, iii. 7. Unpopular, iii. 28, 32. Buxton, Fowell, West Indian slavery and, iv. 190, 191, 194, 195. Byng, Admiral: Fails to relieve Minorca, ii. 297. Tried and shot, ii. 298. Byrne, Miles: Career, iii. 321. Memoirs, iii. 321. Byron, Lord: Assists Greeks, iv. 48. Death at Missolonghi, iv. 50. On George IV. , iii. 242. On Grattan, iii. 307. Scorn of O'Connell's loyalty, iv. 23, 27. Verses on Castlereagh's death, iv. 37. 

 Cabot, John and Sebastian, discover Canada, ii. 283. Calder, Admiral Sir Robert, iii. 336. Calendar, reform of, ii. 275. Campbell, John, Baron, on Lord Harcourt, i. 51. Campeachy logwood question, i. 294, 295; ii. 160. Camperdown, battle of, iii. 318, 336. Canada: French and English colonies in, ii. 283, 284. Sketch of history, ii. 283 _seqq. _ "Canter of Coltbrigg, " ii. 213-215. Canterbury, Archbishop of, attends Queen Caroline, ii. 121. Canning, George: Accepts Governor-Generalship of India, iv. 35. Attitude towards Free Trade and Parliamentary reform, iv. 52, 62. Character, iv. 60, 65. Death, iv. 61. Duel with Lord Castlereagh, iv. 34. Foreign Secretary, iv. 38. Funeral in Westminster Abbey, iv. 62. Monroe doctrine and, iv. 44. Opponents in House of Lords, iv. 59. Oratory, iv. 33, 34, 64. Policy, iv. 34, 38, 41, 42, 43, 52, 55. Summary of, iv. 62. Prime Minister, iv. 55, 58. Resigns office, iv. 7, 31, 34. Sketch of career, iv. 31 _seqq. _, 62. Supports Queen Caroline, iv. 5, 7. Sympathy with Greece, iv. 49, 52. Canning, Stratford, iv. 32. "Canningites, " iv. 65, 72. Carew, Sir George, builds Chichester House, Dublin, i. 80. Caricature in political controversy, i. 52. Caricatures during Hastings's trial, iii. 288. Caricatures of Napoleon Bonaparte, iii. 333. Carnwath, Earl of, a prisoner, i. 137, 138. Caroline, Amelia Elizabeth, Princess of Brunswick, wife of George IV. , iii. 244. Character, iv. 11. Demands to be crowned, iv. 8, 10. Divorce bill, iv. 6; abandoned, iv. 8. Illness and death, iv. 10, 11. Italian witnesses against, iv. 7. Returns to England on accession of George IV. , iv. 5, 6. Caroline, Princess, ii. 38, 71, 79, 105. Attends on Queen, ii. 118, 124. Dislikes Walpole, ii. 126. Caroline, Wilhelmina Dorothea, wife of George II. , i. 303. Action towards Porteous, ii. 62, 66. Acts as Regent, ii. 49. Alarmed for King's safety, ii. 71, 72. Character, i. 276; ii. 77. Death-bed, ii. 114 _seqq. _ Family, ii. 38. Godmother to her granddaughter, ii. 108. Hates Prince of Wales, ii. 40, 50, 71, 76, 118. Lampoons on, ii. 102. Carteret, John, Earl of Granville: Attacks Ministry and Convention, ii. 165. Character, ii. 240, 241; iii. 38. Death, iii. 38. Denounces Convention, ii. 163. Enmity to Walpole, ii. 159, 160, 185. Foreign Policy, ii. 177, 240, 241. Hatred of Pulteney, ii. 192. Knowledge of German, i. 235. Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, i. 239; iii. 38. Motion on Petition against Convention, ii. 164. Moves motion for removal of Walpole, ii. 185. Proclamation against "Drapier's Letters, " i. 247. Proposes address on Prince of Wales's allowance, ii. 89. Resigns, ii. 244. Secretary of State, ii. 191. Sketch of career, i. 233. Speech on Salt Tax, i. 314. Cartier, Jacques, ascends St. Lawrence, ii. 283. Castlereagh, Viscount (Marquis of Londonderry): Character, iv. 36. Death, iv. 36. Duel with Canning, iv. 34. Policy, iv. 34, 39, 41. Catalans and Peace of Utrecht, i. 94. "Catholic" and "Protestant" Ministers, iv. 54. Catholic Association formed, iv. 21. Catholic disabilities, iii. 307. Catholic emancipation question, iv. 52, 67 _seqq. _ Catholic Relief Bill passed, iv. 78. Catholics, feeling against, i. 143. Catholics, penalty against, i. 216. Cato Street Conspiracy, iv. 2, 15. Censorship for stage and press discussed, ii. 96 _seqq. _ Chadwick, Sir Edwin, on Poor Law Commission, iv. 225, 227. Chait Singh, Rajah of Benares, and Warren Hastings, ii. 269. Chambord, Count de, i. 40. Charing Cross in 1714, i. 68. Charles II. Of Spain: Character, i. 61. Will of, ii. 27. Charles VI. , Emperor, ii. 23. Death, ii. 182. Denounces Walpole, ii. 25. Pragmatic sanction, i. 228. Charles X. Deposed, iv. 98. Charles XII. Of Sweden: Action in Poland, ii. 23. Sketch of, i. 160, 162. Charles River, English fleet in, iii. 173, 182. Charleston in 1765, iii. 77. Charleston, tea landed at, iii. 161. Charlotte, Princess: Death, iii. 348. Marries Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, iii. 348. Charlotte Sophia of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, wife of George III. , iii. 10. Character and personal appearance, iii. 12, 14. Death, iii. 348. Chartists demand vote by ballot, iv. 131. Chaworth, Mary, Mrs. Musters, iv. 170. Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of: Administration in Ireland, ii. 249. Advice to Prince of Wales, ii. 78. Attitude on Penal Laws, ii. 249. Character, ii. 6. Conduct to Johnson, iii. 44. Enmity to Walpole, ii. 159, 160, 185. Irish policy, ii. 7. Moves address on Accession of George II. , ii. 7. On Bolingbroke, i. 117. Bute's nationality, iii. 30. Carteret, i. 235. Lord Cowper, i. 98. Recalled from Ireland, ii. 252. Retires from public life, ii. 274. Secretary of State, ii. 252. Sketch of, ii. 4 _seqq. _ Speech on Convention, ii. 164. Speech on Playhouse Bill, ii. 100. Speech on Reform of Calendar, ii. 275. Viceroy of Ireland, ii. 246, 247. Chichester, Sir Arthur, i. 80. China trade and East India Company, iv. 231. Chippenham election petition, ii. 189, 190. Chiswick, Mr. , sends Warren Hastings to Calcutta, iii. 247. Cholmondeley, Earl of, moves address on Convention, ii. 164. Chudleigh, Colonel, quarrels with Charles Aldworth, i. 58. Chunar fortress, iii. 270. Chunda Sahib: Besieges Trichinopoly, ii. 262. Captured and put to death, ii. 264. Invades Carnatic, ii. 261. Church of England, condition in 1738, ii. 129, 132. Churchill, Charles: Character, iii. 52. Death, iii. 69. Denunciation of Hogarth, iii. 63. Flight, iii. 59. "Rosciad, " iii. 54. Satires, iv. 69. Wilkes and, iii. 55. Cider tax proposed, iii. 30. Claimants to throne (1714), i. 3 _seqq. _ Clare Election (1828), iv. 70, 78. Clarence, Duke of (_see_ William IV. ). Clarendon, Lord, bears tidings of Queen Anne's death to George, i. 56. Clarke, Adam, death, iv. 284. Clarke, George, killed in riot, iii. 129. Clarkson, Thomas, West Indian Slavery and, iv. 195, 200. Clavering, General Francis, iii. 260, 261. Death, iii. 264. Clement, Pope, interview with Charles Stuart, ii. 202. Clerk, Lord Justice, i. 130. Clerkenwell Prison broken open, iii. 203. Cleveland, Duchess of, i. 23. Clifton, engagement at, ii. 223. Clinton at Boston, iii. 175. Clive, Richard, ii. 254. Clive, Robert, ii. 253. Advances against Suraj ud Dowlah, ii. 268. Captures Arcot, ii. 262. Character, ii. 255. Discerns Warren Hastings's talent, iii. 250, 252. Escapes from Madras, ii. 260. Forges Admiral Watson's signature, ii. 270. Governor of Fort St. David, ii. 265. Marries, ii. 264. Negotiates with Suraj ud Dowlah, ii. 269. Protests against Indian Administration, iii. 251. Returns to England, ii. 264, 273. Returns to India, iii. 253. Sketch of career, ii. 256 _seqq. _ Clonmel, State trials at, iv. 179. Clubs in 1714, i. 73. Coalition Ministry (1783), iii. 225, 229 Fall of, iii. 235, 237. Cobbett, William: Death, iv. 282. Prosecution, iv. 154. Sketch of career, iv. 155. Cobden, R. , doctrine of non-intervention, iv. 62. Cochrane, Thomas, Earl of Dundonald, assists Greeks, iv. 48. "Cocoa Tree" coffee-house, i. 76. Code Napoléon, iii. 332. Codrington, Sir Edward, commands at Navarino, iv. 50, 96. Coffee-houses, i. 75, 76. Coke's description of Raleigh, iii. 286. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, death, iv. 283. Colonial Administration System (1765), iii. 80. Committee of Secrecy, i. 104, 168. Compton, Sir Spencer, Lord Wilmington, ii. 107, 189. Character, i. 275. Death, ii. 240. Prime Minister, ii. 191. Speaker of House of Commons, i. 212. Concord, battle and retreat from, iii. 174. Congress of Verona and Vienna (_see_ Verona and Vienna Congress). Congreve, William, sketch of, i. 299. Coningsby, Lord, i. 105. Impeaches Oxford, i. 108. Convention between England and Spain (1739), ii. 161, 168. Petition against, ii. 163. Conway, Circular letter to governors of colonies, iii. 105. Cooke, George, Tory candidate for Middlesex, iii. 117. Death, iii. 124. Coote, Major Eyre, ii. 272. Cope, Sir John, Scottish Commander-in-Chief, ii. 210. Defeated at Preston Pans, ii. 214, 215. Copley, Sir John (_see_ Lyndhurst, Baron). Cork Hill, Dublin, i. 82. Cork in 1714, i. 83. Cornwallis, Charles, Marquis: Commands royal troops in Ireland, iii. 323. Surrenders at Yorktown, iii. 184. Corporation Act repealed, iv. 52, 67. Corstorphine, Dragoons at, ii. 212. Cottenham, Lord Chancellor, iv. 252. Court Street Conspiracy, iii. 160. Covent Garden in 1714, i. 68. Cowper, Spencer, i. 105. Cowper, William, Earl, Lord Chancellor: Condemns South Sea Bill, i. 190. Evidence against, i. 219. Opposes taxing Catholics, i. 216. Sketch of, i. 98. Coxe, Archdeacon, on: Division on Prince of Wales's allowance, ii. 88. Duke of Newcastle, ii. 33. Crabbe, George: Account of taking of Newgate, iii. 203. Death, iv. 282. _Craftsman_: Objects of, i. 290, 291. On Walpole's excise scheme, i. 318. Picture of Walpole, ii. 14. "Sedition and defamation displayed, " i. 306. Series of pamphlets, i. 286. Started, i. 260. Craggs, Father and Son, i. 197. Crawford, Earl of, on Princess Anne's dowry, ii. 44. Croix, Petit de la, Persian Tales, iii. 254. Croker, John Wilson, ii. 107. Obstructs Reform Bill, iv. 163. Cromarty, Lord, trial, ii. 228. Cromwell, Elizabeth, death, ii. 3. Cruden, Alexander, dislike to Wilkes, iii. 135. Culloden, Battle of, ii. 224. Prisoners, ii. 232. Cumberland, Ernest Augustus, Duke of: Orange Association and, iv. 276, 278. Supports Irish Church, iv. 219. Unpopularity, iv. 102. Cumberland, William Augustus, Duke of (Butcher), ii. 38. Army at Stafford, ii. 217. Character, ii. 223. Commands English troops at Lauffeld, ii. 239. Conduct after Culloden, ii. 226. Invites Pitt to return to office, iii. 73, 93. Queen Caroline's advice to, ii. 118. Curran, John Philpot: Appeal on behalf of Wolfe Tone, iii. 326. Description of Ireland, iv. 27. Curran, Sarah, and Robert Emmet, iii. 329. 

 "Daily Advertiser, " iii. 128. _Daily Post_, iii. 128. Dalton, Sir Charles, Gentleman Usher of Black Rod, i. 278. Dashwood, Francis, Lord Le Despencer, iii. 33, 65. Chancellor of Exchequer, iii. 48. Founds brotherhood of Medmenham, iii. 46. Davy, Sir Humphry, iv. 93. Dawson, James, supports Young Pretender, ii. 221, 229. Dawson Street, Dublin, i. 81. Daylesford Manor, Worcestershire, iii. 245, 247. D'Espremesnil, Duval, Governor of Madras, ii. 261. De Launay decapitated, iii. 294. De Quincey, iii. 44. Deccan, Nizam of, sends diamond to George III. , iii. 281. Declaration of Rights, Philadelphia, iii. 173. Declaratory Act, iii. 104, 105. Defoe, Daniel, "Robinson Crusoe, " ii. 1. Demerara, "Insurrection" of slaves, iv. 193. Denman, Thomas, Lord Chief Justice: Defends Queen Caroline, iv. 6, 7, 8. Denmark, King of: Character, i. 3. Treaty with George I. , i. 161. Treaty with George II. , ii. 176. Derby, Edward Geoffrey Smith Stanley, Earl of: Letter to Peel declining office, iv. 238. Political principles, iv. 217. Secretary to Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, iv. 127. Speech on Emancipation of Slaves, iv. 196. Speech on Irish State Church, iv. 217, 246. Derby, Reform riot at, iv. 170. Derwentwater, Earl of, i. 137. Executed, i. 142. Dettingen, battle of, ii. 182. Devonshire, Duke of, Premier of Coalition Ministry, ii. 298. D'Iberville on Whigs, i. 18. Dickens, Charles, iv. 286. Dinner hour, changes in, iii. 18. Dinwiddie, Governor of Virginia, ii. 285. Disarmament of clans, ii. 208, 232. Disarming Act (1716), result of, ii. 209. Disraeli (_see_ Beaconsfield, Lord). Divorce Bill (1820), iv. 6. Abandoned, iv. 8. Don Carlos: Compact to protect (1733), ii. 26. Heir to Parma and Placentia, ii. 28. Dorset, Duke of, English ambassador to France, iii. 295. Drake, Governor, in Fulta Island, iii. 249. Draper, Sir William, replies to letters of Junius, iii. 129. Drapier's letters, i. 240, 242. Drummond, Lord James, supports Young Pretender, ii. 221. Dublin coffee-houses, i. 82. Dublin in 1714, i. 80. Dubois, Abbé, Sketch of, i. 155. Duddington, Lieutenant, Commands "Gaspee, " iii. 152. Dumouriez and Duke of Wellington, i. 129. Duncan, Admiral (Lord Camperdown): Deserted by squadron, iii. 335. Victory of Camperdown, iii. 318, 336. Duncannon, Lord, Commissioner of Woods and Forests, iv. 127. Dundas, Henry, Viscount Melville: Catholic Relief Bill for Scotland, iii. 195. Fall of, iii. 338. Sketch of, iii. 232. Dundonald, Admiral, last of sea-kings, iii. 336. Dunleary (_see_ Kingstown). Dunoyer, dancing-master and spy, ii. 106. Dupleix, Governor of S. India, ii. 261. Dreams of French empire in India, ii. 258. Founds Chandernagor, ii. 258. Indian policy, iii. 249. Recalled to France, ii. 262. Refuses to ratify Convention and pillages Madras, ii. 259. Duplicity universal, i. 30. Durham, Earl of, iv. 291. Efforts for Parliamentary reform, iv. 22. Lord Privy Seal, iv. 127. Manners, iv. 121. Sketch of, iv. 127. Suggestions on Reform Bill, iv. 129. Dutch (Batavian) expedition to Ireland, iii. 317. Dymoke, King's champion, iii. 13. 

 East India Companies, ii. 254, 260. East India Company: Charter renewed, iv. 230, 232. Clamors for revenge, iii. 163. Forces tea on America, iii. 161. Policy, iii. 248 _seqq. _ Semi-regal authority, iii. 230. Edgeworth, Talbot, i. 82. Edinburgh: Bill, ii. 66, 68. City guard, ii. 60. Condition in 1745, ii. 210. In 1714, i. 84. Life in, i. 85. Edinburgh Castle: Jacobite plan to capture, i. 129. Reduction abandoned by Young Pretender, ii. 216. Edwards, spy in Cato Street conspiracy, iv. 17, 19. Effingham, Lord, Earl Marshal, iii. 13. Egremont, Lord, iii. 59, 63. House besieged, iii. 117. Wilkes before, iii. 60. Elcho, Lord, ii. 227. Eldon, Earl of, Lord Chancellor, iv. 3. Attitude on Catholic Emancipation, iv. 69. Attitude towards death penalty for stealing, iv. 21. Resigns office, iv. 57. Toryism, iv. 3. Elizabeth, Electress Palatine of the Rhine, i. 5. Elizabeth of Parma, wife of Philip V. , ii. 28. Ellis, relations with Nawab Mir Kasim, iii. 251. Emerson prophesies rise of Orientalism in England, iii. 254. Emily, Princess: At her father's death-bed, ii. 304. Attends on Queen, ii. 117, 122, 123. Dislikes Walpole, ii. 126. Emmet, Robert, iii. 313, 314; iv. 206. Projects for Independence of Ireland, iii. 327. Emmet, Thomas Addis, iii. 313, 314. England: American Colonies and Advantages of union between, iii. 80. Declares war against Spain, ii. 178. Politics of Continent, and, i. 154, 225. Protests against War of Independence, iii. 183, 184. Recuperates, iii. 187. Spain and, trade disputes, ii. 150. English Copper Company and South Sea Company, i. 193. English Protestant Association, iii. 192, 195. Meeting in St. George's Fields, iii. 169. English substituted for Latin in indictments, etc. , i. 302. Entinck, John, Editor of _Monitor_, iii. 51. Eon, Chevalier d', present to Wilkes, iii. 134. Erskine, Thomas, Lord: Defends Lord George Gordon, iii. 210. On Coronation oath, iv. 54. Eugene, Prince, of Savoy, ii. 24, 35. Excise Bill (1733), i. 317. Abandoned, i. 320. Excise Reform, i. 311. Exeter in 1714, i. 79. 

 Factories Act (1833), iv. 202, 204. Factory labor and State, iv. 201, 202. Fairman, Colonel, Orange lodges and, iv. 278. Falkirk, Hawley defeated at, ii. 223. "Family compacts, " ii. 26; iii. 27. Famines in Scotland, i. 89. "Fancy Franchises, " iv. 183. Fane, British Envoy at Florence, ii. 202. Fashions in 1760, iii. 16. Ferguson, on Edinburgh City Guard, ii. 60. Fielding, Henry: On mob in London, iii. 123. Satires on Pretender, ii. 219. Fielding, Sir John, house sacked, iii. 203. Finch, Lord, presents Bolingbroke's petition to Lords, i. 258. Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, iii. 309, 314; iv. 206. Death, iii. 323. Marriage, iii. 220. Sketch of career, iii. 312. Withdraws from Dublin Parliament, iii. 319. Fitzgerald, Vesey, defeated by O'Connell, iv. 74. Fitzherbert, Mrs. : Death, iv. 289. George IV. And, iii. 242; iv. 88. Fitzwilliam, Earl, Viceroy of Ireland, iii. 308. Flaxman, John, iv. 93. Fleet ditch, i. 72. Fleet marriages, ii. 279. Fleming, Sir Michael, and Lord George Gordon, iii. 199. Fletcher, Andrew, in Edinburgh in 1745, ii. 211. Fleury, Cardinal, Prime Minister of France, i. 264, 291. Florida and Carolina, dispute as to boundaries, ii. 160. Fontenoy, Battle of, ii. 210. Foote, on Alexander Wedderburn, iii. 158. Forbes, Duncan, in Edinburgh in 1745, ii. 62. Foreign aid for America, iii. 183. Forster, Thomas: Escapes, i. 142. In Newgate, i. 137. Fort Duquesne built, ii. 286. Fort Duquesne taken, iii. 180. Fort St. David, Olive at, ii. 260, 263. Fort Ticonderoga taken, iii. 79. "Forty-five, " Account of Rebellion, ii. 203 _seqq. _ Forty-shilling freeholders, iv. 179. Fowke, charged with conspiracy, iii. 261. Fox, Charles James, i. 28. Acquainted with Paris, iii. 293. Antagonism to Pitt, iii. 225. As Leader of Opposition, i. 287. Attitude on Regency, iii. 243. Attitude towards French Revolution, iii. 296, 299. Attitude towards Pitt, iii. 339. Character, iii. 227. Coalition with North, iii. 225. Contracted with Pitt, iii. 212 Death, iii. 340; iv. 61. Early life, iii. 142. Foreign Secretary and Leader of Commons, iii. 340. Friend to Ireland, iii. 319; iv. 23. India Bill, iii. 230 _seqq. _ On Henry Grattan, iii. 307. Parliamentary career, iii. 141, 143. Praises of Pitt, iii. 223. Prince of Wales's conduct to, iii. 243. Resigns office, iii. 225. Scholarship, iii. 143. Secretary of State, iii. 224. Speech on Middlesex Election Petition, iii. 132. Fox, Henry (_see_ Holland, Lord). Fox's Martyrs, iii. 237. France: Acknowledges independence of America, iii. 183. Condition before Revolution, iii. 291. Declares war (1793), iii. 303. In 1716, i. 154, 155. Spain and, Alliance between, ii. 25, 26, 182. Spanish policy, iv. 42. Francis, Philip: Character, iii. 260. Duel with Hastings, iii. 267. Hostile to Hastings, iii. 280. Probable author of "Letters of Junius, " iii. 39. Franklin, Benjamin: At Bar of House, iii. 103, 156. Gala suit, iii. 156, 184. Letters of Hutchinson and Oliver and, iii. 153, 155. On Whitefield's eloquence, ii. 139. On Wilkes's candidature for Parliament, iii. 116, 132. Signs Peace in Paris, iii. 184. Sketch of, iii. 102. Frazer, Under Secretary of State, iii. 235. Frederick Lewis, Prince of Wales, ii. 38. Attempts to see his mother, ii. 118. Banished from King's palaces, ii. 108. Bids for popularity, ii. 71. Carries off his wife to London, ii. 106. Character, ii. 71, 72, 74, 77. Claims independent allowance, ii. 77. Conduct on declaration of war, ii. 178. Death, ii. 276. Epitaphs, ii. 276. Income, ii. 87. Marries Princess Augusta, ii. 47. Patriots and, ii. 50, 108, 110. Relations with George II. , ii. 39, 50, 76, 91, 104. Sketch of, ii. 39. Votes against address on Convention, ii. 169. Frederick II. Of Prussia (the Great), ii. 280. Account of abandonment of Excise Bill, i. 320. Description of George I. , i. 270. Occupies Silesia, ii. 182. Frederick William, King of Prussia, and George II. , ii. 45. Free Trade, movement towards, iv. 93. Free Trade, Walpole and, i. 317. Freedom of City, origin of, iv. 256. French aims in America, ii. 285. French expeditions to Ireland, iii. 315, 323, 325. French in Canada, ii. 283. French Revolution, iii. 284, 293 _seqq. _ Condition of France before, iii. 291. England and, iii. 302, 306. French Revolution of 1830, iv. 98. Fuseli, Henry, iv. 93. 

 Gage, General: Arrives in Massachusetts, iii. 165. Raid upon stores in Concord, iii. 174. Galland, version of "Arabian Nights, " iii. 254. Game Laws, severity of, iv. 84. Garrick, David, and Samuel Johnson, iii. 42. Gascoigne, General, amendment to Reform Bill, iv. 150. "Gaspee, " iii. 152. Gates, General Horatio, iii. 179. Traitor, iii. 184. Gay, John; "Beggar's Opera, " i. 302; ii. 95. Lampoons, ii. 102. "Polly, " ii. 95. Secretary to Lord Clarendon, i. 38. Sketch of, ii. 3. _Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser_, iii. 128. George I. (George Louis, Elector of Hanover): Attitude towards Prince of Wales, i. 153, 256, 274. Character, i. 6, 8, 58, 91, 269. Conduct during 1715, i. 136. Coronation, i. 101. Death, i. 266. Descent, i. 6. Directions about Czar, i. 163. Distrusts Marlborough, i. 54. Entry into London, i. 58. Extent of Empire, i. 89. Journey to England, i. 56. Letter to King of Spain on Gibraltar, i. 296. New Lords Justices, i. 54. Principles of government, i. 91. Proclaimed King, i. 47, 49. Project for kidnapping Prince of Wales, ii. 109, 110. Stories of later years, i. 266. Treatment of Oxford and Bolingbroke, i. 101. Visits Hanover, i. 152, 236, 265. Will, i. 269. George II. : At Dettingen, ii. 182. Character, i. 274; ii. 46, 48, 76, 117, 123, 304. Consults Walpole, ii. 195. Death, ii. 303. Godfather to his grand-daughter, ii. 108. Guardian of the Realm and Lieutenant, i. 153. His family, ii. 38. In danger through storms, ii. 69. Income, ii. 89. Letter to Queen, ii. 76. On Handel, ii. 52. Opens Parliament (1728), i. 282. Negotiates with Carteret and Pulteney, ii. 244. Party when Prince of Wales, i. 257. Proposes allowance to Prince of Wales, ii. 81, 86. Proposes duel with Frederick William of Prussia, ii. 46. Relations with George I. , i. 153, 256, 274; ii. 109. Relations with Prince of Wales, ii. 40, 50, 76, 104 _seqq. _, 118. Royal speech (1727), i. 278. Speech from throne (1735), ii. 22. Sympathy with his mother, i. 153. Unpopular, ii. 69. Visits Hanover, ii. 47, 49, 210. George III. : Accession, iii. 2. Attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iv. 53. Attitude towards French Revolution, iii. 301. Attitude towards Wilkes, iii. 17, 119, 132. Birth, ii. 278. Character, iii. 4, 241; iv. 91. Coronation, iii. 12. Courage during Gordon riots, iii. 206. Death, iii. 348. Dislikes Fox and North, iii. 225. Dislikes Pitt, iii. 3, 26. Dismisses Fox and North, iii. 235. Grenville and, iii. 71, 72, 93. Ideal of governing, iii. 23, 25, 80. Illnesses, iii. 72, 243, 341. Improvements during reign, iii. 349. Letter to Temple on India Bills, iii. 234. Ministry of all the talents and, iii. 340. Personal appearance, iii. 3. Policy towards American colonies, iii. 78, 79, 153, 164. Private life, iii. 19. Speech from throne (1760), iii. 22. George IV. (Augustus Frederick): Accession and illness, iv. 1. Attitude towards Canning, iv. 31, 37, 46, 48, 55, 65. Attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iv. 54, 55, 76. Attitude towards Lord Grey, iv. 76. Character, iii. 241; iv. 24, 28, 30, 89 _seqq. _ Coronation, iv. 9. Death, iv. 87. Endeavors to obtain divorce, iv. 3, 4, 6, 8. Friend of Fox and Sheridan, iii. 242; iv. 23. Illness, iv. 86. In opposition, iii. 242. Interview with Wellington, Lyndhurst, and Peel, iv. 77. Letters to Lord Liverpool, iv. 27, 37. Marries Princess Caroline of Brunswick, iii. 244. Mrs. Fitzherbert and, iii. 242; iv. 88. Regent, iii. 341. Visits Hanover, iv. 28. Visits Ireland, iv. 23 _seqq. _ Visits Scotland, iv. 29. Georgia, John Wesley visits, ii. 127, 134. Georgian drama, ii. 94. Georgian literature, iii. 171. Gheriah, Pirate stronghold, ii. 265. Gibbon on Gordon riots, iii. 196. Gibraltar: Besieged (1727), i. 228. Debate on restitution of, i. 296. Gin riots, ii. 56. Gladsmuir (_see_ Preston Pans, battle of). Gladstone, John, entertains George Canning, iv. 35. Gladstone, William Ewart, iv. 35. Junior Lord of Treasury, iv. 239. On "Drapier's Letters, " i. 245. Speech on Irish Church revenues, iv. 247. Glasgow in 1714, i. 86. Gloucester, Duke of, death, i. 3. Glynn, Serjeant, M. P. For Middlesex, iii. 124. Goderich, Viscount: Colonial and War Secretary, iv. 58. Prime Minister, iv. 65. "Prosperity Robinson, " iv. 65. Resigns office, iv. 67. Sketch of, iv. 65. Godolphin, Countess of, i. 210. Godolphin, Earl of, Lord Privy Seal, ii. 107. Goethe, referred to, iii. 144, 145. "Sorrows of Werther, " iii. 167. Goldsmith, Oliver: Plays, iii. 170. Sketch of career and writings, iii. 167, 171. Gordon, Colonel, threatens rioters, iii. 199. Gordon, Elizabeth, Duchess of, improves Scotch agriculture, i. 88. Gordon, Lord George: Acquitted, iii. 210. Arrested, iii. 209. Death in Newgate, iii. 210. Denounces Burke, iii. 199. Presents petition to Commons, iii. 198. Sketch of, iii. 192. Gordon riots, iii. 196 _seqq. _ Gordon, Sir John, ii. 223. Government by party, i. 284. Graeme, Colonel, mission, iii. 11. Grafton, Duke of (I. ), killed in Cork, i. 83. Grafton, Duke of (II. ), Bill to suspend Habeas Corpus Act, i. 213. Grafton (Augustus Henry Fitzroy), Duke of (III. ): Junius's indictment of, iii. 129. Resigns place in Rockingham ministry, iii. 108. Sketch of, iii. 35. Graham, Sir James: First Lord of Admiralty, iv. 127. Refuses office in Peel's ministry, iv. 238. Resigns office, iv. 218. Speech on Irish Church revenues, iv. 246. Granard, Lord, tells King James of conspiracy, i. 24. Grant, Sir Archibald, interest in road-making, i. 88. Granville, Earl of (_see_ Carteret, John). Grattan, Henry: Buried in Westminster Abbey, iv. 23. Leader of Irish, iii. 307. Withdraws from Dublin Parliament, iii. 319. Gray, "Elegy in a Country Church-yard, " ii. 289. Great Seal stolen, iii. 237. "Grecian" coffee-house, i. 76. Greece: struggle for independence, iv. 40, 48. Green, J. B. , on "Family Compact, " ii. 31. Greene, Nathaniel, iii. 176, 179. Gregory XIII. Reforms calendar, ii. 275. Grenville, George, iii. 26, 57. Colonial policy, iii. 84, 87. Prime minister, iii. 72. Proposes tax to maintain garrison in America, iii. 87. Regency Bill and, iii. 72. Sketch of, iii. 31. Speech on Middlesex election petition, iii. 131. Stamp Act, iii. 87, 90. Grenville, James, iii. 26. Grenville, William Wyndham, Lord, Ministry of all the talents, iii. 340. Greville, Charles, on: Duel between Wellington and Winchilsea, iv. 83. Edmund Burke, iii. 96. George IV. 's illness, iv. 86. James and John Stuart Mill, iv. 281. Meeting Macaulay, iv. 185. Princess Victoria, iv. 290, 291. William IV. , iv. 114, 115. William IV. And Whig ministers, iv. 175. Grey, Charles, Earl: Appeal to archbishops and bishops on Reform Bill, iv. 171. Appeals to country, iv. 152. Attacks Canning, iv. 59. Attitude towards electoral reform, iv. 52, 59. Attitude towards Irish State Church, iv. 218, 220. Catholic Emancipation and, iv. 76. Character, iv. 120. Introduces third Reform Bill, iv. 173. Irish grievances and, iv. 207. Leader of Opposition, iv. 103. Motion on speech from throne, iv. 104. Prime Minister, iv. 122. Resigns office, iv. 233. Scheme for creating new peers, iv. 176, 180. Speech on reform, iv. 108. Speech on Reform Bill (second), iv. 168. Grey, Earl: Committed to Tower, i. 214. Condemns South Sea Bill, i. 190. Grey, Sir George, Under-Secretary of Colonies, iv. 252. Grosvenor, Sir Richard, names squares and streets, i. 68. Grote, George: On Irish State Church system, iv. 210. Motion for ballot in municipal elections, iv. 259. Sketch of, iv. 215. Speech on Ward's motion on Irish Church, iv. 216, 217. Guelf, history of family, i. 5. Guildhall banquet rumors, iv. 112. 

 Haddington, Lord, introduces sowing grass seeds, i. 88. Haidar: Grudge against English, iii. 265. Sketch of career, iii. 265. Halhed, friend of Sheridan, iii. 217, 218. Halifax, Lord, iii. 59. Wilkes before, iii. 60. Halkett, Sir P. K. , warns General Braddock, ii. 286. Hall, Robert, death, iv. 284. Hamilton, James, Duke of, killed in duel, i. 122. Hamilton, Lady Archibald, accompanies Prince and Princess of Wales to London, ii. 107. Hamilton (Single-speech), Secretary to Halifax, iii. 99. Hampden, John, and ship money, i. 247. Hampden, Richard, i. 105. Hampton Court Palace, Royal Family in, ii. 105, 106. Handel: Reception of "Messiah, " ii. 51. Royal Family and, ii. 51. Hanger, George, iii. 244. Hanover: Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's account of, i. 152. Separation from English Crown proposed, ii. 105. Sketch of House of, i. 5. Thackeray's description of, i. 55. Treaty of, i. 295. Hanoverian dynasty, position of, iv. 94. Harcourt, Simon, Lord Chancellor: Motion on Oxford's impeachment, i. 169. Sketch of career, i. 49. Hardwicke, Philip Yorke, Lord Chancellor, ii. 9, 192. Heads deputation to Prince of Wales, ii. 81. On declaration of war, ii. 177. Opposes Pitt, iii. 26. Passes Marriage Act, ii. 279. Harley, Robert (_see_ Oxford, Earl of). Harley, Thomas, arrest ordered, i. 106. Harrington, Lord, Secretary of State, i. 304. Harrison, Audrey, marries third Marquis Townshend, iii. 110. Harrowby, Lord, and Cato Street conspiracy, iv. 18. Harvard College, places in lists, iii. 77. Hastings, Howard, assists his nephew, iii. 246. Hastings, Lady Elizabeth, Essays by Congreve and Steele on, i. 301. Hastings, Pynaston, iii. 245. Hastings, Warren: Acquitted, iii. 285. Advice on quarrel of Nawab and Ellis, iii. 252. At Bar of House, iii. 276, 289. Attempts literature, iii. 253. Benares expedition, iii. 269. Buys Dalesford, iii. 276. Charges against, iii. 258. Company's representative at Murshidabad, iii. 250. Defence at Bar of House, iii. 276. Duel with Francis, iii. 267. Enemies, iii. 260, 264, 265. Evidence before House of Commons' Committee, iii. 253. Friendship for Sir James Bland-Burges, iii. 278. Governor-General, iii. 260; his Council, iii. 260 _seqq. _ Governor of Bengal, iii. 257. Impeached, iii. 281. Indian policy, iii. 273. Life at Daylesford, iii. 288. Marriage, iii. 250, 256. Oriental diplomacy, iii. 249. Oriental studies, iii. 254. Presents Deccan diamond to king, iii. 281. Reforms needed and carried out, iii. 257, 258. Relations with Impey, iii. 267, 268. Resignation accepted, iii. 264. Returns to England, iii. 253. Returns to India, iii. 255. Scheme for Supreme Court and Council, iii. 267. Sketch of career, iii. 245 _seqq. _ State of India on his arrival, iii. 249. Trial, iii. 281 _seqq. _ Work accomplished, iii. 258. Hatzfeldt, Count, mobbed, iii. 118. Hawley, defeated at Falkirk, ii. 223. Hazlitt on Steele and Addison, i. 300, 301. Heath, --, iii. 179. Heber, Bishop, death, iv. 92. Heights of Abraham, ii. 288, 289. Hell-Fire Club, iii. 47. Hemans, Felicia, death, iv. 284. Henry IV. Becomes a Catholic, i. 13. Henry, Patrick, speech against Stamp Act, iii. 90. Hepburn, James, of Keith, ii. 214. Herbert, Colonel (Lord Carnarvon), Treatment of Lord George Gordon, iii. 202. Herbert, Sidney, as debater, iv. 239. Herrenhausen, i. 55. Herschel, Sir John, on Newton, i. 273. Hertford, Lord, preparations against insurgents, iii. 205. Hervey, James, author of "Meditations, " ii. 128. Hervey, John, Lord, Baron Hervy of Ickworth: Appeal on Convention, ii. 163. Attends dying Queen, ii. 118, 123. Compares Chesterfield with Scarborough and Carteret, ii. 5. Interviews with Walpole on Queen's death, ii. 120, 125. Lampoons, ii. 102. Memoirs of Reign of George II. , i. 306, 308. On Duke of Argyll, i. 44. On Frederick, Prince of Wales, ii. 39, 105. On George II. 's danger, ii. 69. On George II. 's illness, ii. 303. On Handel and Royal Family, ii. 51. On Hardwicke and Talbot, ii. 10. On letters between George I. And Prince of Wales, ii. 109. On Princess Caroline, ii. 38. On Princess Emily, ii. 38. On Sir William Wyndham, i. 288. On Walpole being indispensable, ii. 91. Sedition and Defamation displayed, i. 306. Sketch of, i. 306. Supports Walpole's policy, ii. 160, 168. Takes news of Prince of Wales's claim to Queen, ii. 78, 79. Hessian mercenaries, i. 291, 292. For America, iii. 183. In Ireland, iii. 322. Highlands, modern prosperity of, ii. 233. Highlands, pacification after Culloden, ii. 227. Hill, Frank H. , quoted on: Fame and George Canning, iv. 59. Peel and art of government, iv. 57. Hill, Rowland, death, iv. 284. Hill, Sir George, recognizes Wolfe Tone, iii. 325. Hillsborough, Lord, Secretary of State, iii. 147. Colonial policy, iii. 147, 148, 150, 152. Hoadley, Dr. , Bishop of Winchester, opposed to Test Act, ii. 110, 111. Hoche, General: Commands expedition to Ireland, iii. 315. Death, iii. 318. Hogarth, William: Caricature of Churchill, iii. 63. Caricature of Wilkes, iii. 61. Death, iii. 68. "March to Finchley, " ii. 231. Pictures of London, i. 64, 65. "Polling Day, " ii. 188. Portrait of Lord Lovat, ii. 230. Sketch of career, ii. 230. Hogg, James, death, iv. 282. Holland, Henry Fox, Lord: As Administrator and Debater, ii. 274. Asked to support Prince of Wales's claim, ii. 78. Character, iii. 33, 141. Forms Opposition to Pitt, iii. 26. Macaulay and C. Greville dine with, iv. 185. Paymaster, ii. 298. Protests against words "On the true faith of a Christian, " iv. 69. Secretary at War, ii. 296. Holroyd, Colonel, threatens Lord George Gordon, iii. 199. Holwell, on Black Hole of Calcutta, ii. 267. Holy Alliance and Congress of Verona, iv. 39, 42, 45. Horne-Tooke, John, Rector of Brentford: Candidate for Westminster, iii. 139. Quarrels with Wilkes, iii. 136. Supports Wilkes, iii. 117. Horneck, Mary, "Jessamy Bride, " iii. 169. Houghton, Walpole at, i. 196. House of Commons: Chairman of Committee, iv. 160. Commencement of Party organization, i. 256. Committee on Convention, ii. 171. Debates on: Allowance for Prince of Wales, ii. 82, 88. American Colonies, iii. 162. Middlesex Election, iii. 131. Restitution of Gibraltar, i. 297. Supply to George II. , i. 280. Election Petitions, ii. 189. Gordon presents petition to, iii. 198. Growth of, i. 32. In Committee, iv. 160. Inadequate accommodation, iv. 270, 271. Ladies' Gallery, iv. 272. Numbers in 1714, i. 51. Obstruction in, iv. 159, 160 _seqq. _ Petition of merchants against Spaniards, ii. 153. Petitions against Spaniards, i. 294. Secession from, ii. 172, 174. Subsidies for foreign mercenaries, i. 293. House of Lords: Agitation against, iv. 167. Debates on: Bill for Princess Anne's dowry, ii. 43. Convention, ii. 164, 168. Prince of Wales's allowance, ii. 89. India Bills rejected, iii. 235. Numbers in 1714, i. 51. Protest against Address on Prince of Wales's allowance, ii. 90. Reform and, iv. 169, 173, 176. Scene during Gordon Riot, iii. 197, 201. Walpole and, ii. 159. Houses of Parliament (old), i. 64. Destroyed by fire, iv. 267. Houses of Parliament, design for new, iv. 269, 270. Howe, Admiral Richard, Viscount, Mutiny at Spithead and, iii. 335. Howe, William, Viscount, iii. 182. Commands at Breed Hill, iii. 176. Humbert, General, commands expedition to Ireland, iii. 323. Hume, David, on Whitefield's eloquence, ii. 139. Hume, Joseph, Committee on Orangeism, iv. 387. Hungerford speaks for Bolingbroke, i. 108. Hunt, Leigh, on: George IV. , iii. 242. William Congreve, i. 301. Hunt, Orator, defeats Stanley at Preston, iv. 131. Huskisson, William: Attitude on Catholic Emancipation, iv. 68. Colonial and War Secretary, iv. 65, 67. Death, iv. 103. Resigns office, iv. 72. Sketch of career, iv. 52. Treasurer of Navy and President of Board of Trade, iv. 58. Hutchinson, Governor-General of Massachusetts: House in Boston ransacked, iii. 91. Letters to Whately, iii. 153. Hyde Park, camp in, i. 121. 

 Ibraham Pasha, military capacity, iv. 49. Imhoff, Baroness von, and Warren Hastings, iii. 255. Impey, Elijah, Chief Justice, iii. 261, 268. Impressment for Navy abolished, iv. 263, 267. India Bills: Fox's, iii. 230 _seqq. _ Pitt's, iii. 237, 238. Indian Empire, ii. 257. Condition in 1707, ii. 257. Three Presidencies, ii. 253. Inglis, Sir Robert Harry, speech on Reform Bill, iv. 144. Insurrection of 1715, i. 118 _seqq. _ Conditions of success, i. 118. Intrigues in Cabinet, i. 251. Ireland: Agitation in 1724, i. 240. Condition in 1797, iii. 318. Grievances, iii. 306. In 1714, i. 80. New copper coinage, i. 240. Irish and English Parliaments, i. 179. Irish Brigade at Fontenoy and Lauffeld, ii. 239. Irish clergy, ii. 130. Irish House of Lords, i. 178. Irish Parliament, i. 80; iii. 307. Abolished, iv. 206. Irish, Penal Laws against, ii. 248. Irish Rebellion of '98, iii. 313, 314 _seqq. _; iv. 206. Irish State Church question, tithes, iv. 207 _seqq. _ Debate on, iv. 212. (_See also_ Tithe question, Ireland. ) Irish vote, iv. 244. Irving, Washington, essay on Robert Emmet, iii. 329. Isla, Earl of, i. 250. Italy in 1716, i. 154. 

 Jacobite demonstration in England, i. 121, 135. Jacobitism and Tory cause, iii. 24. Jamaica: Act to mitigate punishment of slaves, iv. 193. Jekyll, Sir Joseph, Gin Act, ii. 56. Jenkins, Captain, story of his ear, ii. 158. Johnson, Samuel: English dictionary, ii. 299. Epitaph on Goldsmith, iii. 171. Friend of Goldsmith, iii. 169. Interview with Wilkes, iii. 138. On acquittal of Lord George Gordon, iii. 210. On Alexander Wedderburn, iii. 158. On authorship of _Letters of Junius_, iii. 131. On state of Irish, ii. 248. On taking of Newgate, iii. 203. Opinion of Thomas Sheridan, iii. 217. Receives pension, iii. 55. Regard for Warren Hastings, iii. 255. Sketch of, iii. 39 _seqq. _ Visits Paris, iii. 293. Jones, Inigo, lays out Covent Garden, i. 68. Jones, Paul, commands "Le Bonhomme Richard, " iii. 183. Jones, Sir William, Persian grammar, iii. 254. Jonson, Ben, Comedies, i. 299. Jordan, Mrs. , and William IV. , iv. 97. Julius Caesar regulates calendar, ii. 275. _Junius's Letters in Public Advertiser_, iii. 128. 

 Kazim Bazar Settlement, iii. 249. Keats, John, death, iv. 92. Kean, Edmund, death, iv. 285. Kelly supports Young Pretender, ii. 205. Kemble, John, death, iv. 92. Kendal, Mlle. Schulemberg, Duchess of, i. 7, 241, 266. Bribed by Bolingbroke, i. 267. Death, i. 266. Kenmure, Viscount, i. 137. Executed, i. 142. Kennett, Lord Mayor of London, iii. 201. Kent, Edward, Duke of, death, iii. 348. Kent, Duchess of, and William IV. , iv. 117. Kenyon defends Lord George Gordon, iii. 210. Ker, Lord Mark, reception of Cope, ii. 215. Kilmansegge, Mme. (Countess of Darlington), i. 7. Kilmarnock, Lord, trial of, ii. 228, 229. Kilwarden, Lord Chief Justice: Action respecting Wolfe Tone, iii. 326. Murdered, iii. 328. King's Evil, iii. 39. King's friends, iii. 108. Kingstown, origin of name, iv. 25. Kinnison, David, iii. 161. "Kit-Kat" Club, i. 74. Kneller: portrait of Queen Anne, i. 2. Knighton, Sir William, sketch of, iv. 47. Königsmark, Aurora, mother of Maurice de Saxe, i. 8. Königsmark, Charles John, i. 7. Murders Lord Thynne, i. 8. Königsmark, Philip Christof, assassinated, i. 7. Kosciusko in America, iii. 183. 

 La Bourdonnais: Besieges and takes Madras, ii. 259. Founds colonies of Ile de France and Bourbon, ii. 258. Sent to France under arrest, ii. 259. La Vendée, Royalist revolt in, iii. 303. La Vrilličre, Mme. , i. 237. Lade, Sir John, iii. 244. Lafayette: Demands revival of States-General, iii. 293. In America, iii. 183. Lamb, Charles: Death, iv. 284. On "Robinson Crusoe, " ii. 2. Lambton, J. G. (_see_ Durham, Earl of). Lampooners, ii. 102. Landor, Walter Savage: Epigram on the Four Georges, iii. 242. On George I. And George II. , i. 273. Langdale, distilleries fired by mob, iii. 207. Lauderdale, Lord, attitude towards French Revolution, iii. 301. Lauffeld, battle of, ii. 239. Law, defends Warren Hastings, iii. 285. Law, John, forms Mississippi Company, i. 184. Law, William, "Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, " ii. 133. Lawrence, Major, commands in S. India (1751), ii. 264. Lawrence, Sir Thomas, iv. 93. Layer, Christopher: Arrested, i. 219. Hanged, i. 221. Lecky, William E. H. , on: Catholics and Protestants, iv. 55. Shrewsbury as Lord High Treasurer, i. 46. Lee, Richard Henry, on George Washington, iii. 189. Lee, General Charles, iii. 179. Traitor, iii. 184. Leeds, iv. 99. Leeds, Duke of, protests against Act for Dependency of Ireland, i. 178. Leibnitz on Electress Sophia, i. 4. Lennox, Lady Sarah, sketch of, iii. 9. Leopold, King of the Belgians, iv. 117, 290. Lepell, Mary, Lady Hervey, i. 307, 308. Lessing, "Laocoon, " iii. 98. Referred to, iii. 145. Leszczynski, Stanislaus, King of Poland, sketch of, ii. 23. _Letters of Junius_ in _Public Advertiser_, iii. 128. Authorship, iii. 130. Lewis, Sir George Cornewall, i. 290. Lexington, battle at, ii. 43; iii. 174. Liberal political principles, rise of, iv. 94. Lightfoot, Hannah, iii. 8. Limerick invested by William III. , i. 83. Limerick, Treaty of, i. 83. Linley, Elizabeth (Mrs. Richard B. Sheridan), iii. 218. Liverpool: As commercial port, iv. 99. In 1714, i. 79. Memorials of Canning, iv. 34. Liverpool and Manchester Railway opened, iv. 103. Liverpool, Robert Banks Jenkinson, Earl of: Attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iv. 34. Attitude towards popular liberty, iv. 3. Character, iii. 345. Death, iv. 62. Illness, iv. 55, 58. Prime Minister, iv. 3. Recommends Canning as Foreign Secretary, iv. 37. Lloyd, Dr. , at Westminster School, iii. 54. Logwood Trade on Campeachy Bay, i. 294, 295. London: In panic, iii. 204. In 1714, i. 63. In 1760, iii. 15. Penny Post, i. 78. Poverty in, ii. 89. State during '45, ii. 218. London University Charter, iv. 261. Londonderry, Marquis of (_see_ Castlereagh, Viscount). Lord High Treasurer, office of, i. 46. Lord Mayor of London committed to Tower, iii. 135. Lord Mayor of London presents addresses to King, iii. 133. Lord Treasurership in Commission, i. 97. "Lords of Trade, " iii. 80. Louis XIV. And Stuart cause, i. 117. Louis XV. Places Stanislaus Leszczynski on throne of Poland, ii. 23. Louis XVI. : Character, iii. 295. Executed, iii. 300, 303. Louis Napoleon, Emperor, demeanor, i. 127. Louis Napoleon, Prince, i. 10. Louis Philippe, King of the French, iv. 98, 105. Louisiana, ii. 283. Lovat, Simon Fraser, Lord, sketch of, ii. 229. Lowe, Sir Hudson, and Napoleon Bonaparte, iii. 344. Lowland Agriculture, i. 87. Loyalty in 1714, i. 59. Luttrell, Colonel: Opposes Wilkes, iii. 126. Petition against, iii. 132. Lyall, Sir Alfred, on Hastings's application for annuity for his wife, iii. 289. Lyndhurst, John Singleton Copley, Baron, iv. 58, 65. Amendment on Reform Bill (third), iv. 174. Interview with King on Catholic emancipation, iv. 77. Lord Chancellor, iv. 239. Opposes Municipal Bill, iv. 259. Oratory, iv. 174. Lyons rises against Paris, iii. 303. Lyttelton in politics and literature, ii. 274. 

 Maberly, house sacked, iii. 201. Macartney, General, returns to England, i. 122. Macartney, Lord, governor of Madras, iii. 266. Macaulay, Thomas Babington, Lord: On Arbuthnot, ii. 21. On Irish tithe question, iv. 210. On Warren Hastings, iii. 258. Sketch of, iv. 184. Macaulay, Zachary, West Indian Slavery and, iv. 190. Macclesfield, Thomas Parker, Earl of: Impeached, i. 262. On reform of calendar, ii. 275. M'Cullock, Lieutenant, suggests scaling Heights of Abraham, ii. 288. Macdonald, Aeneas, evidence on '45, ii. 205, 227. Macdonald of Barrisdale, ii. 227. Macdonald of Sleat refuses to support Young Pretender, ii. 205. Macdonald, Sir John, supports Young Pretender, ii. 205, Macdonalds' conduct at Culloden, ii. 225. Mackintosh, Brigadier, escapes from Newgate, i. 142. Mackintosh, Sir James: Bill to abolish death penalty for minor offences, iv. 20. Death, iv. 281. Denounces trial of Rev. John Smith, iv. 194. M'Laurin improves fortifications of Edinburgh, ii. 211. Maclean, Donald, tried for murdering Allan, iii. 120. Macleod of Macleod refuses to support Young Pretender, ii. 205. M'Quirk, Edward, tried for murder of George Clarke, iii. 129. Madras: Besieged by Le Bourdonnais, ii. 259. Restored to England, ii. 260. Madras expedition, iii. 250. Mahon, Lord, iii. 186. Mahratta States and Nizam of Deccan, iii. 265, 266. Malleson, Colonel, on Suraj ud Dowlah, ii. 267. Malthus, Thomas Robert, iv. 281. Manchester, iv. 99. In 1714, i. 79. Mangan, Clarence, "Dark Rosaleen, " iv. 205. Manley, Isaac, Postmaster-General, Dublin, i. 82. Mansfield, Murray, Lord, ii. 274. Attorney-General, ii. 296. Demeanor during Gordon riot, iii. 197. House sacked, iii. 203. Mar, John Erskine, Earl of, i. 39. Leader of insurrection, 1715, i. 123. Letter to Bolingbroke, i. 120. Sketch of, i. 123. March Club, i. 74. Maria Theresa, Queen of Hungary, British troops support, ii. 182. Marie Antoinette executed, iii. 300. Markham arrests Rajah of Benares, iii. 269. Marlborough House, i. 69. Marlborough, John Churchill, Duke of, i. 2, 54. Advice on rebellion of 1715, i. 128. Advice to Bolingbroke, i. 104. Character, i. 22, 24, 210. Charges against, i. 94. Closing days, i. 208. Funeral, i. 211. Member of Privy Council, i. 100. Return to England, i. 16, 52. Marlborough, Sarah, Duchess of, i. 208. Advice to Duke, i. 100. Character, i. 25. Marriage Act, ii. 279. Marseilles rises against Paris, iii. 303. Martin challenges Wilkes, iii. 66. Martineau, H. : Attitude towards Poor Relief, iv. 224. On admission of ladies to hear debates in House, iv. 272. On movement against monopoly of East India Company, iv. 232. On Queen Caroline, iv. 10. Masham, created peer, i. 174. Masham, Mrs. , i. 2. Letter to Swift, i. 36. Result of influence with Queen, i. 94. Massachusetts: Memorial from, ii. 42. Mutiny Act and, iii. 150. Petition for recall of Hutchinson and Oliver, iii. 155. Protests against Stamp Act, iii. 90. Punishment of, iii. 164. Mathews, Charles, Sen. , "At Home" performance, iv. 285. Maximilian, Emperor, iv. 45. Mayfair, i. 72. Mechanics' Institutes, iv. 93. Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Duchy of, iii. 11. Medmenham-on-Thames, iii. 46. Meer Jaffier conspires against Suraj ud Dowlah, ii. 269, 270, 271, 272. Melbourne, William Lamb, Viscount: Attitude towards reforms, iv. 254. Character, iv. 234. Home Secretary, iv. 126. Irish Members and, iv. 253. Prime Minister, iv. 233, 250. Meredith, George, "Ironic procession, " iii. 2. Methodism (_see_ Wesleyan Movement). Methuen, Sir Paul, Treasurer of Household, i. 279. Opposes Bolingbroke's pardon, i. 259. Mexican Empire, iv. 45. Middlesex election (1768), iii. 117. Debate on petition, iii. 131. Mill, James, historian of British India, iv. 281. Mill, John Stuart: Doctrine of non-intervention, iv. 62. On Irish cottier tenant, iv. 222. Mills, Mrs. , friend of Lady Nithisdale, i. 139. Ministry of All the Talents, iii. 340. Ministry of 1714, i. 97. Ministry of 1742, ii. 192. Minorca, i. 296, 298. Captured by French, ii. 297. Mir Jaffier, iii. 250, 253. Intrigues, iii. 250. Mir Kasim, Nawab, and Ellis, iii. 251. Mirzapha Jung claims Deccan Vice-royalty, ii. 261. Death, ii. 262. Mississippi scheme, i. 184 _seqq. _ Mitchel, John, on Chesterfield's rule in Ireland, ii. 250. Mob law in London, iii. 122. Mob orators, Sir Robert Inglis on, iv. 145. Mohun, Lord, i. 74. Killed in duel, i. 122. Moira, Lady Elizabeth, letter on French expedition to Ireland, iii. 315. Molesworth: on renewal of East India Company's Charter, iv. 230, 232. Monarchy under Hanoverians, ii. 74. _Monitor_ edited by John Entinck, iii. 51, 52, 55. Monopolies, petitions for, i. 191. Monroe doctrine, iv. 44. Monson, Colonel, iii. 260, 261. Death, iii. 264. Montagu, Edward Wortley, i. 105. Ambassador to Constantinople, i. 148. Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley: Letters, i. 148, 149, 152, 157. Sketch of, i. 148, 149, 150. Montcalm, Louis, Marquis de: Killed at Quebec, ii. 290. Monument, ii. 290. Montesquieu, on Duke of Berwick, ii. 34. Montgomery, --, iii. 179. Moore, Thomas: Lines on Robert Emmet, iii. 329. On George IV. , iii. 242. Quoted, iv. 23. Moravian sect, ii. 134. More, Hannah: Death, iv. 282. On Lord George Gordon, iii. 193. Morgan, Mrs. , friend of Lady Nithisdale, i. 139. Morris, Charles, iii. 244. Mostyn, Sir Thomas, iii. 338. "Mug houses, " i. 75. Municipal Corporation Bill for Ireland, iv. 258. Municipal Corporations Commission and Bill, iv. 257, 258. Municipal system, reorganization of, iv. 254 _seqq. _ Munster, Earl of, iv. 114. Murari Rao offers to assist English, ii. 263. Murchison, Sir Roderick, and British Association, iv. 262. Murger, Henri, "bohemianiam, " iii. 310. Murphy, Father John: And _Auditor_, iii. 51. Conduct in '98, iii. 320. Murray, James (Earl of Dunbar), Secretary to James Stuart, ii. 18. Murray, John, of Broughton, ii. 227. Murray, tutor to Charles Edward, Young Pretender, ii. 202. Murray (_see_ Mansfield, Lord). Musters, Mr. , house set fire to, iv. 170. Mutiny Act and New York, iii. 149. 

 Nairn, Lord, a prisoner, i. 137, 138. Nand Kumar (Nuncomar), iii. 258, 259. Accusations against Hastings, iii. 261. Charged with conspiracy, iii. 261. Charged with forgery, iii. 261. Tried and hanged, iii. 262. Napier, Hon. George, marries Lady Sarah Bunbury, iii. 10. Napier, Sir Charles, iii. 10; iv. 179. Napier, Sir William, iii. 10. Napoleon I. (Bonaparte): Close of career, iv. 12. On Romilly's suicide, iii. 347. On Thames Embankment, iv. 14. On Wellington seizing English crown, iv. 277. Scheme for invasion of Ireland and, iii. 312, 314. Sketch of career, iii. 331 _seqq. _, 344. Wins Toulon, iii. 304. Napoleon III. (Charles Louis), Policy, iv. 45. National Assembly, declaration of war and, iii. 302, 303. National Crisis (1832), iv. 178. National Debt (1714), i. 93. Pitt's plan for redemption of, iii. 239. National distress in 1830, iv. 100, 105. Navarino, battle of, iv. 50, 67, 96. Navy, press-gang system abolished, iv. 263, 266. Nelson, Horatio, Viscount, iii. 337. Receives freedom of London, iii. 139. Nepean, Under-Secretary of State, iii. 235. New England Colonies, iii. 75. New York: Congress of 1765, iii. 91. In 1765, iii. 77. Mutiny Act and, iii. 149. Newbottle, Lord, and Lady Sarah Lennox, iii. 9, 10. Newcastle, Duke of: Appeal to Lords on declaration of war, ii. 177. Bribery under, iii. 25. Family influence, ii. 243. Jealous of Pulteney, ii. 192. Leader of Administration, ii. 210, 296. On Bill for Princess Anne's dowry, ii. 44. On "Briton, " iii. 23. On "Family Compact, " ii. 33. Resigns office, ii. 298. Sacrifices Byng, ii. 298. Secretary for Foreign Affairs, ii. 160. Secretary of State, ii. 192. Traitor to Walpole, ii. 160, 189. Warns Rockingham against Burke, iii. 100. Newfoundland, French fishing-stations on, iii. 78. Newgate taken by rioters, iii. 203. Newton, Sir Isaac: Death, i. 272. Opinion on Irish coins, i. 241. Neyoe, Irish priest: Arrested, i. 219. Drowned, i. 221. Nile, battle of the, iii. 337. Nithisdale, Countess of: Effects Earl's escape, i. 140. Petition to King, i. 139. Nithisdale, William Maxwell, Earl of: Condemnation and escape, i. 138. Nizam-Al-Mulk, Viceroy of Deccan, death of, ii. 261. Nizam of Deccan and Mahratta States, iii. 265, 266. Nollekens, Joseph, iv. 93. Nootka Sound, English settlement at, iii. 302. Norbury, Baron, tries Robert Emmet, iii. 329. Nore, mutiny at, iii. 335. Norfolk, Duke of: Committed to Tower, i. 214. Discharged, i. 215. Norris, James, sketch of, iv. 288. _North Briton_, iii. 51, 52, 155. Churchill writes on, iii. 55. No. 45 on King's Speech, iii. 57, 60. Ordered to be burned, iii. 67. Warrant for arrest of authors, printers, and publishers, iii. 58. North, Frederick, Lord: Attitude during Wedderburn's attack on Franklin, iii. 156. Bill to close Port of Boston, iii. 163. Chancellor of Exchequer, iii. 113. Coalition with Fox, iii. 225. Colonial policy, iii. 152. Fall of Ministry, iii. 223. Finances and, iii. 239. Makes peace with America, iii. 184. Moves repeal of American duties except tea tax, iii. 151. Regulates Act of 1773, iii. 260. North, Lord: Committed to Tower, i. 214. Discharged, i. 215. Condemns South Sea Bill, i. 190. Northcote, James, on Queen Charlotte, iii. 12. Northumberland, Duchess of: Governess to Princess Victoria, iv. 291. Northumberland, Duke of, forced to toast Wilkes, iii. 118. Norton, Fletcher, speech on Middlesex election petition, iii. 131. Norwich in 1714, i. 79. Nottingham Castle burned, iv. 170. Nunjeraj, Vizier of Rajah of Mysore, iii. 265. 

 Oates, Titus, on term "Tory, " i. 17. O'Brien, Smith, iv. 179. O'Connell, Daniel: Demands municipal reform for Ireland, iv. 258. Elected for Clare, iv. 71, 78. In favor of ballot, iv. 131. Loyalty, iv. 23, 27. On Universal Suffrage, iv. 85. Oratory, iv. 70. Seconds amendment on Emancipation of Slaves, iv. 197. Sketch of, iv. 53, 69. Speech on Irish Church Revenues, iv. 248, 249. Speeches on Reform Bill, iv. 148, 172. O'Connor, Arthur, iii. 313, 314. Withdraws from Dublin Parliament, iii. 319. October Club, i. 74. Oglethorpe, General, invites John Wesley to Georgia, ii. 134. Ohio, English and French on, ii. 285. Oliver, Alderman, committed to Tower, iii. 135. Oliver, Andrew, collector of stamp taxes at Boston, iii. 91. Oliver, Lieutenant-Governor of Massachusetts: Letters to Whately, iii. 153. O'Meara, Dr. Barry E. , conversations with Napoleon, iv. 13. Omichund: Death, ii. 273. Plots against English and Suraj ud Dowlah, ii. 269, 270. Onslow, Arthur, Speaker of House of Commons: On Sir William Wyndham, i. 288. Opposes Bolingbroke's pardon, i. 259. Re-elected Speaker, ii. 22, 186. Sketch of, i. 282. Onslow, Sir Richard, i. 105. Orange Associations, iv. 274 _seqq. _ Orange, Prince of, marries Princess Anne, ii. 41. Order of Bath revived, i. 252. Orleans, Louis Philippe, Duke of (Egalité), iii. 293. Orleans, Philippe, Duke of (Regent), i. 117. Death, i. 238. Overtures to George I. , i. 156, 181. Sketch of, i. 155. Ormond, Duke of: Flight, i. 111. Heads Spanish Jacobite expedition, i. 162. Impeached, i. 109, 110. In Paris, i. 119, 120. Name razed from roll of Peers, i. 114. Warden of Cinque Ports, i. 39. Orrery, Earl of: Committed to Tower, i. 214. Discharged, i. 215. Otis, James, denounces Writs of Assistance, iii. 84. Oude subjected, iii. 258. Oude, Vizier of, and Begums, iii. 271. Oxford in '45, ii. 220. Oxford, Robert Harley, Earl of, i. 26, 29. Acquitted, i. 111, 170. Attitude towards Restoration of Stuarts, i. 107. Character, i. 113. Committed to Tower, i. 112. Establishes South Sea Company, i. 187. Impeached of high treason, i. 109, 110, 112, 168. Petition to House of Lords, i. 168. Reception by George I. , i. 101. Sketch of, i. 30. Ozinda's chocolate-house, i. 76. 

 Paine, Thomas, iii. 312. Pakenham, Hon. Catherine, Duchess of Wellington, iii. 334. Palmerston, Viscount: Foreign Secretary, iv. 126, 252. Member for Tiverton, iv. 254. Member of Liverpool Administration, iv. 3. On the "Inevitable Man, " iv. 55. Resigns office, iv. 72. Secretary at War, iv. 58. Pamela, wife of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, iii. 313. Paradis defeats Nabob of Carnatic at St. Thome, ii. 261. Parker heads mutiny at Nore, iii. 335. Parliament: Annual, i. 146. Dissolved (1831), iv. 143. Election of 1734, ii. 19. Election of 1830, iv. 105. Irish and English, i. 179. Language of sycophancy, ii. 85. Motions for removal of Walpole, ii. 185. Of 1722, i. 206, 213. Prorogued (1727), Royal Speech, i. 278. Septennial Act, i. 146. Short, ii. 11. Speech from Throne (1739), ii. 162; (1741), ii. 186; (1765), iii. 88. Triennial Acts, i. 145. (_See also_ House of Lords and House of Commons. ) Parliamentary Opposition, system of, i. 285 _seqq. _ Parma, Duke of, i. 158. Parnell, Sir Henry: Motion on Civil Service Estimates, iv. 110. Paymaster-General, iv. 252. Parr, Dr. , opinion of Sheridan, iii. 217. Patents, petitions for, i. 190. "Patriots, " i. 288, 296, 298. Frederick, Prince of Wales, and, ii. 50, 108, 110. In Opposition and power, ii. 242. Oppose borrowing from Sinking Fund, i. 309. Raise war cry, ii. 149, 157. Return to Commons, ii. 178. Secede from Commons, ii. 172. Struggle against Walpole, ii. 11. Patten, Rev. Robert, as King's evidence, i. 137. Peel, Sir Robert: At opening of Liverpool and Manchester railway, iv. 103. Attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iv. 57, 68, 74, 75. Attitude towards Reform, iv. 152, 163. Declines to form Ministry, iv. 177. Free Trade and, iv. 52. Home Secretary, iv. 71, 103. Interview with King on Catholic emancipation, iv. 77. Measure on Irish Tithe System, iv. 245; Speech on, iv. 249. On claims of "Princess" Olivia, iv. 287. Prime Minister and Chancellor of Exchequer, iv. 238. Resigns office, iv. 113, 250. Speech on municipal reform, iv. 259, 260. Speech on Reform Bill, iv. 146. Summoned to form Ministry, iv. 235. Tamworth Address, iv. 240. Peerage Bill, object of, i. 174. Peers, creation of new, iv. 180. Pelham, Henry: Death, ii. 296. Letter to Duke of Cumberland, ii. 239. Paymaster, ii. 192. Prime Minister, ii. 244, 245. Pelham Ministry: Resign, ii. 244. Return to power, ii. 245. Penn, William, death, i. 179. Penny Post, London, i. 78. Pepys quoted on Duchess of Cleveland, i. 23. Perceval, Spencer: Chancellor of Exchequer, iii. 341. Death, iii. 341. Regency Bill, iii. 341. Percy, Lord, commands reinforcements from Boston, iii. 174. Perry, presents petition of merchants against Spaniards, ii. 153. Perth, Duke of, ii. 223. Appeal to Macdonalds, ii. 225. Death, ii. 232. Perth, Jacobites retreat from, i. 128. Pestolozzi, Johann H. , iv. 93. Peter the Great, character, i. 162. Peterborough, Lord, anecdote of, ii. 167. Philadelphia: Congress draws up Declaration of Rights, iii. 173. Evacuated, iii. 183. In hands of British, iii. 183. In 1765, iii. 77. Tea-ship at, iii. 161. Philip V. Of Spain, ii. 28. Renounces French throne, i. 157. Phipps, Sir Constantine, removed from office of Chancellor, i. 98. Pitt diamond, ii. 54. Pitt Ministry (1766), members of, iii. 108. Pitt, Thomas, i. 105. M. P. For Okehampton, ii. 54. Pitt, William, Earl of Chatham: Accepts pension and barony for his wife, iii. 27. Advice to Prince of Wales, ii. 78. As War Minister, ii. 299; iii. 2, 27, 29. Character, iii. 186. Coalition against, iii. 26. Death, iii. 186. Denunciation of Walpole and Carteret, ii. 245. Illness, iii. 73, 108, 109. In House of Peers, iii. 109. Maiden speech, ii. 52, 55. On action of Boston people, iii. 161, 163. Paymaster-General, ii. 296. Protests against war with America, iii. 185. Quarrels with Temple, iii. 108. Refuses office, iii. 73, 93. Resigns office, iii. 27. Sketch of, ii. 54. Speech on Convention, ii. 171. Takes news of accession to George III. , iii. 2. Takes office, ii. 274; iii. 108. Wilkes and, iii. 57. Pitt, William (the younger), iii. 211. Antagonism to Fox, iii. 225. Attacks Fox's India Bill, iii. 232. Attitude on Regency, iii. 243. Attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iii. 308; iv. 53. Challenge to Ministry on Eastern possessions, iii. 230. Chancellor of Exchequer, iii. 225. Closing hours, iii. 338. Coalition against, iii. 26, 225. Contrasted with Fox, iii. 212. Death, iii. 339. Declines Vice-Treasurership of Ireland, iii. 224. Difficulties of Administration, iii. 240. Financial measures, iii. 239. First Lord of Treasury and Chancellor of Exchequer, iii. 236. Foreign policy, iii. 302. French policy, iii. 301. India Bill, iii. 237, 238. Irish policy, iii. 319, 327. Makes name in Commons, iii. 223. Plan of Parliamentary reform, iii. 229, 240. Refuses to appeal for payment of Prince of Wales's debts, iii. 242. Resigns office, iii. 337. Sketch of, iii. 214. Speech on Benares vote, iii. 277, 279. Speech on Trafalgar, iii. 339. Struggle with Napoleon Bonaparte, iii. 332, 337. Supports Dundas, iii. 338. Plassey (Palasi), Battle of, ii. 271, 272. Playhouse Bill, ii. 96, 99. Plunket, Lord, Lord Chancellor for Ireland, iv. 127. Pocket boroughs, iv. 99, 147. Poland, condition of, iv. 40. Poland, election of king, ii. 23. Political freedom in 1716, i. 144. Political life in 1742, ii. 239. Political parties in 1728, i. 287, 288. Pomeroy, General, iii. 176, 179. Pontiac conspiracy, iii. 79. Population of Great Britain (1714), i. 63. Poor Laws, iv. 221 _seqq. _ Commission, iv. 225. Bill, iv. 228, 229. Pope, Alexander: "Dunciad, " i. 301. Epitaph on James Craggs, i. 198. Epitaph on Sir Isaac Newton, i. 272. Lampoons, ii. 102, 103. Loses money in South Sea stock, i. 22. On Argyll, Duke of, i. 44. On Bacon, i. 22. On Bolingbroke, i. 29. On Oxford, i. 29, 31. Place in literature, ii. 197. Sketch of, ii. 197. Popham, Major, defeats Rajah's troops, iii. 270. "Porcupine Papers, " iv. 155. Porteous, Captain John: Death, ii. 64. Sentence on, ii. 62. Sketch of, ii. 58. Porteous riots, ii. 58 _seqq. _ Portland, William Cavendish Bentinck, Duke of: Prime Minister, iii. 340. Supports Wilkes, iii. 116. Portsmouth, press-gang in, iv. 265. Portugal: free institutions, iv. 43. Potter, Thomas, iii. 48, 65. Vice-Treasurer for Ireland, iii. 49. Praed, Winthrop Mackworth, iv. 239. Pratt, Justice, Lord Camden, iii. 109. Discharges Wilkes, iii. 60, 67. Predestination, Wesley and Whitefield dispute on, ii. 139. Prescott, hero of Breed Hill, iii. 179. Preston: "Fancy franchises, " iv. 183. Jacobites defeated at, i. 128. Preston, Colonel, commands British troops at Boston, iii. 151. Preston, General, in Edinburgh Castle, ii. 215. Preston Pans, Battle of, ii. 214, 215. Prideaux, --, in Canada, ii. 287. Primacy of Ireland and George IV. , iv. 27. Prior, Matthew, i. 38. Arrested, i. 106. M. P. For East Grinstead, i. 52. Prisoners in 1715, i. 136. Privy Council, July 30, 1714, i. 40, 45, 46. Proctor, Sir W. Beauchamp, Whig candidate for Middlesex, iii. 117. "Protestant" and "Catholic" Ministers, iv. 54. Prussia, position at end of Seven Years' War, iii. 29. _Public Advertiser, Letters of Junius_ in, iii. 128. Pulteney, William (Earl of Bath), i. 105. Accepts Peerage, ii. 192. Advice to Prince of Wales, ii. 78. Alliance with Bolingbroke, i. 260; ii. 17. Attacks Convention and Ministers, ii. 156, 172. Declines office, ii. 191. Duel with Hervey, i. 306. Founder of Parliamentary Opposition, i. 225, 284, 288; ii. 195. Leader of discontented Whigs, i. 287. Letters to Pope, i. 305. Letter to Swift, i. 306. Motion on papers concerning war, ii. 187. On Arbuthnot, ii. 20. On grievances against Spain, ii. 154, 156. On Walpole's excise scheme, i. 315. Opposes Playhouse Bill, ii. 99. Proposes allowance for Prince of Wales, ii. 82. Sketch of, i. 98, 253, 286. Speech on salt tax, i. 313. Speech on Secession, ii. 178. Tribune of Commons, ii. 192, 194. Puritanism in Boston, iii. 76. Purkitt, Henry, iii. 161. Putnam, Israel, iii. 176, 179. 

 Quadruple Alliance, i. 161. Principle of, i. 295. Quebec: Attacked by Wolfe, ii. 287. Described, ii. 287, 291. Founded, ii. 283. Queen Anne's Bounty, i. 280. Queen Anne's houses, i. 69. Queensberry, Duke of, iii. 244. 

 Radcliffe, Charles, escapes from Newgate, i. 142. Radical party, i. 20. Rise of, iv. 218. Rae, Fraser, on elections of Lord Mayor, iii. 137. "Rainbow" Coffee-house, i. 75. Rainsforth, house sacked, iii. 201. Rajah Dulab Ram, ii. 272. Rajah Sahib: Besieges Arcot, ii. 263. Defeated, ii. 263. Ramnagar stronghold, iii. 270. Rathbone, William, and movement against monopoly of East India Company, iv. 231. Ray, Miss, murdered by Hickman, iii. 50. "Rebecca and Her Daughters, " ii. 56. Rebellion of 1745, ii. 203 _seqq. _ Reform Bill (First): Committee, iv. 127. Debate on, iv. 144, 149. Introduced in Commons, iv. 134, 137. General Gascoigne's amendment, iv. 150. Principles of, iv. 143. Redistribution, iv. 142. Scheme for, iv. 129, 132. Second Reading, iv. 149. Reform Bill (Second), iv. 154. Introduced into House of Lords, iv. 168. Rejected, iv. 169. Second Reading, iv. 154, 159. Third Reading, iv. 166. Obstructed, iv. 161, 163. Reform Bill (Third), iv. 172. Defect in, iv. 182. Passed, iv. 181. Political Parties and, iv. 218. Reform Bills for Ireland and Scotland, iv. 181. Reform Meetings, iv. 177. Reform Parliament (First), iv. 172, 204, 241. Reform Riots, iv. 170. Regency Bill, iii. 72. Regency Question (1830), iv. 101, 104, 107. Religious equality and Parliament, iv. 67, 99. Restoration dramatists, character of, ii. 93. Revere, Paul, iii. 174. Reynolds, Sir Joshua: Friend of Goldsmith, iii. 169. Portrait of Wilkes, iii. 68. Richelieu, Duc de, captures Minorca, ii. 297. Richmond, Duke of: On "Our Army, " iii. 183. Speech on Annual Parliaments, iii. 197. Richter, Jean Paul, on: Eloquence, ii. 135. Laurence Sterne, ii. 302. Rigby, Richard, sketch of, iii. 36. Riot in St. George's Fields, iii. 120, 124. Rioters killed, wounded, and executed, iii. 209. Ripon, Earl of (_see_ Goderich, Viscount). Ripperda, Duke of, i. 264. Rob Roy at Sheriffmuir, i. 126. Robertson, Dr. , threatened, iii. 195. Robertson, George, and Porteous riots, ii. 58. Robinson, Dr. John, Bishop of London, i. 109. Robinson, Frederick (_see_ Goderich, Viscount). Robinson, Sir Thomas, ii. 297. Rockingham, Charles Watson Wentworth, Marquis of: Character, iii. 94. Dismissed from office, iii. 108. Prime Minister, iii. 94. Repeals Stamp Act, iii. 104. Second Ministry, iii. 223. Rohilla War, iii. 258. Roman Catholics (_see_ Catholics). Romilly, Sir Samuel: Death and character, iii. 346. Philanthropic reforms, iv. 21. Rosebery, Lord, on Pitt's position, iii. 240. Ross, General: Captures Washington, iii. 346. Speaks for Bolingbroke, i. 108. Rousseau, on "Robinson Crusoe, " ii. 1. Rowe, Nicholas, i. 38. Roxburgh, Duke of, attitude towards Walpole, i. 250. Royal Society of Literature founded, iv. 93. Royal Standard set up at Glenfinnan, ii. 206, 210. Russell, Lord John: As reformer, iv. 104, 126, 127. As speaker, iv. 133. Beaten in S. Devonshire, iv. 253. Carries repeal of Test and Corporation Acts, iv. 52, 67. "English Government and Constitution, " iv. 128, 129. Home Secretary, iv. 252. Interview with Napoleon in Elba, iv. 277. Leader of Opposition, iv. 103. Municipal Bill, iv. 257, 260. On Parliamentary Reform, iv. 85. Reforms Parliamentary representation, iv. 22. Resolution on Irish Church revenues, iv. 246, 250. Second Reform Bill, iv. 154. Sketch of proposed Reform Bill, iv. 128, 132. Speech on Greek cause, iv. 48. Speech on Reform Bill, iv. 137 _seqq. _ Statement on Reform Act, iv. 182. Rupert, Prince, sketch of, i. 6. Russia in 1716, i. 154. Russia: policy towards Greece and Turkey, iv. 49. 

 Sacheverell, Dr. , impeached, i. 34. St. James's, i. 65. St. James's coffee-house, i. 75. _St. James's Chronicle_, iii. 124. St. James's Square, i. 67. St. James's Street, i. 66. St. John, Henry, Viscount (_see_ Bolingbroke). St. Helena, Island of, iii. 344. St. Margaret's Lane, London, i. 64. St. Patrick's Well, Dublin, i. 81. St. Simon on Mississippi scheme, i. 185. St. Thome, Nabob of Carnatic defeated at, ii. 261. Sala, George Augustus, picture of London in '45, ii. 219. Salt tax, i. 313. Sandwich, Earl of, iii. 48, 49. Denounces Wilkes, and "Essay on Woman, " iii. 65. First Lord of Admiralty, iii. 48. "Jemmy Twitcher, " iii. 68. Mobbed, iii. 202. Sandys, Samuel, Chancellor of Exchequer, ii. 192. Motions against Walpole, ii. 185, 186. Saratoga, Burgoyne surrenders at, iii. 183. Sarsfield defends Limerick, i. 83. "Saturday" Club, i. 74. Savile, Sir George: Bill for Catholic Relief, iii. 190, 191. House sacked, iii. 201. Sketch of, iii. 190. Saxe, Maurice de: Commands at Fontenoy and Lauffeld, ii. 239. Parentage, i. 8. Sayer, James, caricature of Fox, iii. 233. Scarborough, Lord: Character, ii. 5. On Declaration of War, ii. 178. Schaub, Sir Luke, Ambassador at Paris, i. 237. Recalled, i. 239. Schleswig-Holstein, seized by King of Denmark, i. 161. Schomberg, Duke of, opinion of Marlborough, i. 24. Scotch Judges at Bar of House of Lords, ii. 66, 67. Scotland: Condition in 1745, ii. 208. Fanaticism in, iii. 194. Riots in, i. 249. Scott, Captain, commands Scots Royal, ii. 206. Scott, Dr. , iii. 203. Scott, Major, defends Hastings, iii. 274, 276, 282. Scott, Sir Walter: Interview with George IV. , iv. 29. Later years and death, iv. 187. Sketch of John, Duke of Argyll, i. 44. Scottish Highlands and Lowlands, i. 87. Scratton, represents Company at Murshidabad, iii. 250. "Scriblerus" Club, i. 73. Secession from House of Commons, ii. 172, 175. Secretary of State, two departments, ii. 192. Seeley, Professor, on "Family Compact, " ii. 31, 33. Selwyn, George, attachment to Fox, iii. 214. Senior, Nassau: Attitude towards Poor Relief, iv. 223. On Poor Law Committee, iv. 225. Septennial Act, i. 146, 147. Debate on repealing, ii. 10. Serres, Olivia Wilmot, sketch of, iv. 286. Servants in 1714, i. 77. Seven Men of Moidart, ii. 205. Seven Years' War, ii. 297; iii. 29. Close of, iii. 79. Sévigné, Mme. De, ii. 35. Seville, Treaty of, i. 297. Trade disputes and, ii. 150. Shackleton, Richard, schoolmaster of Edmund Burke, iii. 97. Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of: Factory labor and, iv. 200 _seqq. _ Sketch of, iv. 203. Shah Alum, enterprise against Meer Jaffier, ii. 273. Sheffield, iv. 99. Shelburne, William Petty, Earl of: Opposes calling out military, iii. 198. Passed over by Pitt, iii. 236. Secretary of State, iii. 109. Sketch of, iii. 223, 224. Shelley, Percy Bysshe, death, iv. 92. Sherbrooke, Robert Lowe, Lord, i. 290. Sheridan, Charles, iii. 218. Sheridan, Mrs. , opinion of her boys, iii. 217. Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, iii. 211. Attitude towards French Revolution, iii. 296. Begum speech, iii. 280. Duel with Matthews, iii. 219. Funeral in Westminster Abbey, iii. 346. M. P. For Stamford, iii. 221. Marriage, iii. 220, 222. "School for Scandal, " "Critic, " iii. 221. Sketch of, iii. 216. Speeches during Hastings's trial, iii. 280, 286. "The Rivals, " iii. 221. Under-Secretary of State, iii. 224. Sheridan (Dr. ), Thomas, friend of Swift, iii. 216. Sheridan (Sir), Thomas: Death, ii. 232. Tutor to Charles Stuart, ii. 205. Sheriffmuir, battle of, i. 125. Shippen: Amendment on Supply (1727), i. 280. Leader of Jacobites, i. 287. Opposes Septennial Bill, i. 146. Sketch of, i. 289. Shrewsbury, Charles Talbot, Duke of, i. 41. Death, i. 179. Lord High Treasurer, i. 45. Resigns offices, i. 97. Sketch of career, i. 41. Shrewsbury, Duke of, killed by Duke of Buckingham, i. 41. Shrewsbury in 1714, i. 79. Siddons, Mrs. , death, iv. 285. Sidmouth, Viscount, Home Secretary: Challenged by Thistlewood, iv. 16. Signs in streets, i. 70. Sinking Fund, borrowing from, i. 309. Slaughter's coffee-house, i. 75. Slave Trade, Fox and, iii. 340. Slavery, iv. 189 _seqq. _ Crusade against, iv. 93. (_See also_ West Indies, slavery in. ) Smith, Rev. John, sentenced to death, iv. 194. Smith, Sydney, on: Collection of tithes in Ireland, iv. 208, 210, 211. Spencer Perceval, iii. 341. "Smock races, " i. 72. Smollett and _Briton_, iii. 51. Smuggling in American colonies, iii. 83. Sobieski, Clementine, wife of James Stuart, ii. 199. Retires to convent, ii. 200. Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge founded, iv. 93. Somers, John, Lord, i. 47, 54. Accomplishes Union of England and Scotland, i. 84. Approves Septennial Bill, i. 147. Member of New Council, i. 101. Sketch of career, i. 147. Somerset, Charles Seymour, Duke of: sketch of, i. 42. Somerset, Charlotte, Duchess of, i. 42. Somerset, Elizabeth, Duchess of, i. 43. Somerville, Dr. Thomas, _History of Reign of Queen Anne_, i. 13. Somerville, Lord, house molested, ii. 217. Sophia Dorothea, wife of George I. , i. 6, 153. Banished to Castle of Ahlden, i. 7. Death, i. 267. Will, i. 269. Sophia, Electress of Hanover, i. 4, 5. South Sea Bill, i. 189, 190. South Sea Company, i. 187, 193; ii. 150. Petitions for relief, i. 194. Principle of, i. 194. Reconstituted, ii. 167. South Sea House, i. 186. South Sea victims, i. 194, 204. Spain: Claims Right of Search, ii. 151, 163, 245. Complaints against, i. 294. Demands constitutional government, iv. 40, 43. England and, trade disputes, ii. 150. In 1716, i. 154, 155. Portugal and, dispute between, ii. 35. Treaty of Utrecht and, i. 227. War declared against, ii. 178. Spean's Bridge, brush at, ii. 206. Spencer, John Charles, Earl, iv. 234. As Speaker, iv. 133. Chancellor of Exchequer, iv. 125. Declaration on Reform Bill, iv. 164. Motion on speech from Throne, iv. 104. On Government measure for Irish Tithe Question, iv. 211. On slavery in Colonies, iv. 195. Sketch of, iv. 125. Spies in Ireland in '98, iii. 314. Spithead, mutiny at, iii. 335. Stage Censorship, ii. 96 _seqq. _ Stair, John Dalrymple, Earl of: Character, i. 120, 225. Commands British troops, ii. 182. Recalled from French Court, i. 225. Stamp Act, iii. 87, 88. Repealed, iii. 103. Stanhope, Charles, and South Sea Company, i. 197, 200. Stanhope, Colonel (_see_ Harrington, Lord). Stanhope, James, Earl, iii. 339. Attitude towards French Revolution, iii. 302. Death, i. 173. First Lord of Treasury and Chancellor of Exchequer, i. 165. Impeaches Duke of Ormond, i. 109. Mission to Vienna, i. 152. On funds and Queen Anne's health, i. 2. On Irish clergy, ii. 130. On Oxford, Earl of, i. 31. Recognized religious equality, i. 173. Second Secretary of State, i. 97, 99. Sketch of, i. 100. Stanhope, Lady Hester, iii. 339. Stanley, Lord (_see_ Derby, Earl of). States-General convoked, iii. 293. Steele, Sir Richard: Career, i. 38. Compared with Addison, i. 300. Death, i. 299. M. P. For Stockbridge, i. 52. On Somers, i. 147. On Whig and Tory, i. 17. Petition in favor of rebels, i. 137, 138. Tribute to Atterbury, i. 214. Stephen, Sir James, "Story of Nuncomar, " iii. 263. Sterne, Laurence, "Tristram Shandy, " ii. 299, 301. Sterne, Roger, ii. 299. Death, ii. 300. Stevenson, Dr. , keeps guard at Netherbow Gate, ii. 212. Stewart, Dugald, iv. 93. Stoke Pogis church-yard, ii. 289. Stow, "Survey of London" quoted on penny post, i. 78. Strafford, Lord, charges against, i. 109. Stratford de Redcliffe, Viscount, iv. 32. Streets of London in 1714, i. 70. Strickland, Francis, supports Young Pretender, ii. 205. Stuart, Cardinal Henry, death, ii. 234. Stuart, Charles Edward, Young Pretender: Advantages on his side, ii. 208, 209, 218, 221. Adventures after Culloden, ii. 226. At siege of Gaeta, ii. 29, 201, 203. Birth, ii. 199. Education, ii. 201, 202. Enters Holyrood, ii. 214. Humanity during campaign, ii. 215, 217. In London, iii. 14. Later career, ii. 233, 234. March into England, ii. 217. Marches on Edinburgh, ii. 210, 213. Proclamation, ii. 206. Rebellion of 1745, ii. 204 _seqq. _ Retreats, ii. 223. Wishes to advance on London, ii. 222. Stuart influence on literature, ii. 234. Stuart, James Francis Edward (Old Pretender), i. 4. Character, i. 126. Dismisses Bolingbroke, i. 131. Embarks for Scotland, i. 120. Life of exile, ii. 199, 201. On South Sea scheme, i. 200. Proclaimed in Dundee, i. 123. Rebellion in favor of, i. 118. Returns to France, i. 128. Rumors of, i. 264. Sketch of, i. 9 _seqq. _ Stuart standard set up at Braemer, i. 121, 123. Sugar Act of 1733, iii. 83. Sullivan, iii. 179. Sully, advice to Henry IV. , i. 13. Sumner, Dr. , Head-master of Harrow, iii. 217. Sunderland, Charles, Earl of, i. 54. Accusations against Townshend and Walpole, i. 164. Death, i. 206. Motion implicating him in South Sea scheme, i. 199. Plot against Walpole, i. 207. Speech in favor of South Sea Bill, i. 191. Viceroy of Ireland, i. 97. Suraj ud Dowlah: Black Hole of Calcutta, ii. 266. Captured and killed, ii. 273. Character, ii. 266. Death, iii. 250. Declares war against English, iii. 249. Swetenham, Captain, ii. 207. Swift, Jonathan, Dean of St. Patrick's: Attitude towards Irish, i. 243. Character, ii. 237. Death, ii. 236. Defends Treaty of Utrecht, i. 96. Dialogue between Whig and Tory, i. 219. "Drapier's Letters, " i. 240, 242, 247. "Gulliver's Travels, " i. 302. Lampoons, ii. 102. Letter to Lord Peterborough, i. 36. Letter to Sheridan on Walpole, i. 306. On Arbuthnot, ii. 21. On Bolingbroke, i. 26, 28. On Condition of Church, ii. 129. On Marlborough, i. 24. On Oxford, Earl of, i. 31, 168. On Queen Anne's health, i. 1, 36. On Somerset, Duke of, i. 43. On William Congreve, i. 299. Patron of Berkeley, ii. 293. Poems on South Sea mania, i. 202. Reception of Carteret, i. 235. Sketch of, i. 35. Stella and, ii. 236. Swinburne, "A Jacobite's Exile, " ii. 235. 

 Talbot, Charles, Lord Chancellor, ii. 9, 81. Talleyrand: Dines with William IV. , iv. 117. On Alexander Hamilton, ii. 248; iv. 281. Tea tax introduced by Townshend, iii. 113. Telford, Thomas, death, iv. 282. Temple, John, iii. 155. Temple, Richard Grenville, Earl, iii. 26. Action on India Bill, iii. 234. Persuades Pitt to refuse office, iii. 73, 93. Removed from Lord-Lieutenancy, iii. 64. Resigns office, iii. 236. Shows King's speech to Wilkes, iii. 57. Supports Wilkes, iii. 116. Ten-pound franchise, iv. 130. Tenterden, Chief Justice, decision in Cobbett prosecution, iv. 157. Test Act: Debate on proposed repeal, ii. 176. Repeal proposed, ii. 110. Repealed, iv. 52, 67. Thackeray, W. M. , iv. 286. Description of Hanover, i. 55. On George IV. , iii. 242. On interview of George IV. And Sir Walter Scott, iv. 29. On interview of George IV. With Wellington, Lyndhurst, and Peel, iv. 78. On Laurence Sterne, ii. 302. On Swift's character, ii. 237, 238. Thames frozen (1716), i. 154. Thames Tunnel, iv. 93. Thistlewood, plots to assassinate Ministers, iv. 15. Thomas, --, iii. 179. Thornhill, Sir James, i. 68. Thurlow, Lord, iii. 228. Thynne, Thomas, Lord, i. 8. Tippu, English make treaty with, iii. 266. Tithe question, Ireland, iv. 207 _seqq. _, 216, 220. Government proposal on, iv. 211, 245. Tobacco, excise duty on, i. 316. Tolbooth fired, ii. 64. Tone, Matthew, fights under Humbert, iii. 324. Tone, Theobald Wolfe, iv. 206. Death, iii. 327. Letter to his wife, iii. 324. Marriage, iii. 311. Project for colony in South Sea island, iii. 310. Scheme for French invasion of Ireland, iii. 311. Sketch of, iii. 309 _seqq. _ Tonson, Jacob, Secretary to Kit-Kat Club, i. 74. Torcy, Marquis de, Secretary of State, France, i. 110. Tories: Attitude towards restoration of Stuarts, i. 16, 19. Doctrines, i. 17 _seqq. _ Jacobitism and, iii. 24. Old school of, iv. 241. Origin of name, i. 17. Peace of Utrecht and, i. 92. Toulon: Retaken by French, iii. 304. Welcomes English fleet, iii. 303. Townshend, Alderman, opposes Wilkes, iii. 136. Townshend, Audrey, Marchioness of, iii. 110. Townshend, Charles ("Weathercock"), i. 99. Chancellor of Exchequer, iii. 109. Character, iii. 110. Death, iii. 113. Introduces tea tax for America, iii. 113. Townshend, Charles, Viscount: Accompanies King to Hanover, i. 237. Dismissed, i. 164. President of Council, i. 182. Resigns office, i. 304. Secretary of State, i. 97, 278. Sketch of, i. 99. Trading Guilds, origin of, iv. 255. Trafalgar, battle of, iii. 337. Traill, H. D. , on Laurence Sterne, ii. 302. Treaties (_see_ under various titles). Trichinopoly: Besieged, ii. 262. Relieved, ii. 264. Triennial Parliament Acts, i. 145. Triple Alliance, i. 161, 163. Tucker, Dean, on mutinous colonies, iii. 163. Tullibardine: Dies in Tower, ii. 232. Supports Young Pretender, ii. 205, 206. Turkey in 1716, i. 154. 

 Ulm, capitulation of, iii. 338. Union, Scotland's attitude towards, i. 83. University College Charter, iv. 261. University of London, Charter, iv. 261. Upper Ossory, John, Earl of, iii. 36. Utrecht, Treaty of, i. 95, 157, 227, 263. Campeachy logwood question and, i. 295. Tories and, i. 92. Trade disputes and, ii. 150. Will of Charles II. And, ii. 27. 

 Valley Forge, iii. 183. Vanhomrigh, Esther (Vanessa), i. 36. Alters her will, ii. 294. Vansittart, Governor of East India Company, iii. 251. Advice on quarrel of Nawab and Ellis, iii. 252. Vendôme, Duc de, i. 100. Character, i. 158. Verazani forms settlement in Canada, ii. 283. Verden ceded to Hanover, i. 161. Verona Congress and Holy Alliance, iv. 39, 42, 45. Victoria, Princess Alexandrina: Birth, iii. 348. Heir-presumptive, iv. 101. William IV, and, iv. 117, 118. Vienna, Congress of, iv. 38. Vienna, Treaty of, i. 295; ii. 30. Virginia protests against Stamp Act, iii. 90. Voltaire, epigram on Byng, ii. 298. Von Steuben in America, iii. 183. Vote by ballot proposed, iv. 131. 

 Wade, General, clans surrender arms to, ii. 209. Wales, Prince of (_see_ Frederick Lewis, Prince of Wales, and George IV. ). Walkenshaw, Miss, ii. 233. Walmoden, Mme. , ii. 48, 76, 304. Walpole, Baron, i. 224. Walpole, Horace, Earl of Orford: Account of his father (1742), ii. 189. Acquainted with Paris, iii. 293. Contrasts Townshend with Burke, iii. 112. Description of George I. , i. 58. Description of Lord Hillsborough, iii. 148. Description of Mme. Kilmansegge, i. 7. Eulogy of Queen Charlotte, iii. 12. Maiden speech in defence of his father, ii. 195. On Bute's Administration, iii. 28. On Carteret, i. 235. On Chesterfield's speeches, ii. 5. On Coronation of George III. , iii. 12. On dinner hour, iii. 18. On James Stuart, i. 11. On Lord George Gordon, iii. 193. On Whitefield's eloquence, ii. 139. On Wilkes's career, iii. 137. Walpole, Horatio, Lord: Ambassador to Paris, i. 237, 238, 291. Moves Address on Convention, ii. 171. Recalled from Paris, i. 304. Walpole, Sir Robert, Earl of Orford: Accepts war policy, ii. 180. Administration, i. 224 _seqq. _, 305. Address to George II. , i. 280. Advice to Princesses, ii. 126. At Houghton, i. 196; ii. 195. At Queen Caroline's death-bed, ii. 119. Attacks Peerage Bill, i. 176. Attempts to get influence of James Stuart, ii. 186. Attitude towards financial reform, ii. 36. Bill to adjust affairs of South Sea Company, i. 203, 205. Chairman of Committee of Secrecy, i. 105, 106, 168. Character, i. 165; ii. 8, 18, 196. Charges against, ii. 187, 195. Conduct on Prince of Wales's allowance, ii. 80. Correspondence with Townshend, i. 252. Corruption under, i. 231; ii. 13, 19, 90, 195; iii. 25. Created Earl of Orford, ii. 190. Death, ii. 196. First great finance minister, i. 229. Fiscal policy, i. 230, 309, 311 _seqq. _ Foreign policy, i. 229, 236, 292, 305; ii. 24, 31, 149. Hails George II. King, i. 275. Health in 1742, ii. 188. Made K. B. , i. 252. Made K. G. , i. 252. Masterly inactivity, ii. 24, 31, 36. Moves Address (1715), i. 103. On Frederick, Prince of Wales, ii. 71. On Queen's illness, ii. 115. On Royal family, ii. 74. On South Sea Company, i. 188, 196. Paymaster-General, i. 97, 181. Pleads against war with Spain, ii. 155, 159. Quarrel with Townshend, i. 304. Relations with stage, ii. 95. Resigns office, i. 164; ii. 190. Restored to office, i. 278. Secretary of State for Scotland, i. 250. Settles dispute between Spain and Portugal, ii. 35. Sketch of career, i. 32; ii. 196. Speech on Bolingbroke, ii. 15. Speech on Prince of Wales's allowance, ii. 86. Speech on secession from Commons, ii. 174. War declared against Spain, ii. 178. Results of, ii. 183. War of Independence, ii. 43. War of Polish Succession, ii. 23 _seqq. _ War of the Succession, purpose of, i. 92. War passion, ii. 148. War with Spain, iii. 29. Ward, Artemus, iii. 179. Ward, Henry, resolution on Irish State Church, iv. 212, 213, 214. Ward, Ned, ballad on Marlborough's return to England, i. 53. Ward, Plumer, author of "Tremaine, " iv. 213. Ward, Sir John, petition on South Sea Company, i. 203. Wardle, Colonel, iii. 338. Warren, General, iii. 176. Washington, George: Character, iii. 188. Commands Continental army, iii. 181. Disapproves of Boston exploit, iii. 161, 163. Fires first shot against enemy, ii. 285. First President of American Republic, iii. 189. Sketch of career, iii. 180. Watson, Admiral, commands fleet against Suraj ud Dowlah, ii. 269. "Waverers, " iv. 173. Webster, "Duchess of Malfi" quoted, iv. 11. Wedderburn, Alexander, Solicitor-General, iii. 149. Denounces Franklin, iii. 156, 157. On using military against mob, iii. 207. Sketch of, iii. 158. Speech on Middlesex election petition, iii. 131. "Weekly Political Register, " Cobbett's article in, iv. 156, 157. Wellesley, Arthur (_see_ Wellington, Duke of). Wellesley, Garret, Earl of Mornington, iii. 341. Wellesley, Richard C. , Marquis of: Resigns Vice-royalty of Ireland, iv. 73. Sketch of career, iv. 72. Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, Duke of: Accompanies George IV. To Waterloo, iv. 28. At opening of Liverpool and Manchester railway, iv. 103. Attitude towards Catholic Emancipation, iv. 54, 56, 75, 106. Attitude towards Municipal Bill, iv. 260. Attitude towards Parliamentary reform, iv. 52. Attitude towards Queen Caroline, iv. 7. Character, iv. 120. Declines to form ministry, iv. 177. Duel with Lord Winchilsea, iv. 81. Interview with King on Catholic emancipation, iv. 77. Prime Minister, iv. 67, 100. Represents England at Congress of Verona, iv. 41, 42. Resigns office, iv. 113. Secretary for Foreign Affairs, iv. 238. Sketch of, iii. 341 _seqq. _ Speech against Reform Bill, iv. 169. Speech on Parliamentary reform, iv. 108. Supports Poor Law Bill, iv. 229. Unpopular, iv. 153. Welsh Copper and Lead Company, and South Sea Company, i. 193. Wentworth, Lady, describes house in Golden Square, i. 70. Wesley, Charles, ii. 128, 137, 145. Accompanies John to Georgia, ii. 134. On Revivalist meetings, ii. 139. Wesley, John: Breaks away from Moravians, ii. 140. Breaks from discipline of Church of England, ii. 142. Character, ii. 134, 135, 137, 142. Dispute with Whitefield, ii. 139. Marriage, ii. 137. Organization, ii. 140. Sketch of, ii. 127 _seqq. _ Visits Georgia, ii. 127. Wesleyan Movement, account of, ii. 127 _seqq. _ In United States, ii. 144. Revivalist meetings, ii. 138. West Indian Planters, grant to, iv. 198, 200. West Indies, slavery in, iv. 190 _seqq. _ Abolished, iv. 199, 200. Westminster Hall, iv. 268. Booths in, i. 64. Explosion in, ii. 45. Wetherell, Sir Charles, obstructs Reform Bill, iv. 163. Rescued from rioters, iv. 197. Weymouth, Lord, letter to magistrate in case of riot, iii. 120, 124. Wharncliffe, Lord, amendment to Reform Bill, iv. 169. Wharton, Duke of: Character, i. 264. Condemns South Sea Bill, i. 191, 198. Whately, --, private secretary to George Grenville, iii. 153. Whately, William, iii. 155. Wheler, appointed Governor-General, iii. 264. Whigs: Ascendency, iii. 24. Attitude towards Hanoverian Succession, i. 16. Doctrines, i. 17 _seqq. _ Foreign policy (1716), i. 157. Nobles and Reform Bill, iv. 178. Origin of name, i. 17. Whitbread, efforts to inquire into troubles in Ireland, iii. 319. Whitefield, George, ii. 128, 137, 145. Disputes with Wesley, ii. 139. Oratory, ii. 139. White's chocolate-house, i. 76. Widdrington, Lord, a prisoner, i. 137, 138. Wilberforce, William: Later years, iv. 280. Supports Queen Caroline, iv. 6. Votes against Dundas, iii. 338. West-Indian Slavery and, iv. 191, 193, 194. Wilkes, John: Arrested, iii. 59. At King's Bench, iii. 119. Attack on, iii. 64, 66. Brings actions against Lord Halifax and Wood, iii. 63. Candidate for Parliament, iii. 116, 117, 126, 137. Catholic Relief for Scotland and, iii. 195. Churchill and, iii. 55. Committed to Tower, iii. 60. Death, iii. 139. Duel with Martin, iii. 66. Elected Alderman for Farringdon Without, iii. 134. Elected Lord Mayor, iii. 137. Elected Sheriff, iii. 136. Expelled from House, iii. 130. Interview with Johnson, iii. 138. Later life, iii. 137. Liberated from prison, iii. 135. Literary executor to Churchill, iii. 69. M. P. For Aylesbury, iii. 49, 51. _North Briton_ and, iii. 52, 55, 57. On rioters, iii. 209. Outlawed, iii. 68. Released by Judge Pratt, iii. 60, 63. Sketch of, iii. 48 _seqq. _ Summoned before Commons, iii. 135. William III. , opinion of Duke of Marlborough, i. 24. William IV. : Accession, iv. 96. Assents to Bill for Abolition of Slavery, iv. 199. Attitude towards Duke of Wellington, iv. 115. Attitude towards Irish State Church, iv. 219. Attitude towards Ministry (1831), iv. 151. Attitude towards Reform, iv. 172, 173, 175, 179, 181. Character, iv. 98, 114, 115, 120, 293. Conduct as admiral, iv. 115. Conduct to Mrs. Fitzherbert, iv. 88. Death, iv. 293. Dismisses Whig Government and sends for Sir Robert Peel, iv. 235. Illness, iv. 289. Lord High Admiral, iv. 60, 96. Marries Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen, iv. 97. Mrs. Jordan and, iv. 97. Opens Parliament (1831), iv. 154. Orangeism and, iv. 279. Popular, iv. 153, 154. Prayers for, iv. 292. Raises his children to Peerage, iv. 114. Sanctions Reform Bill, iv. 132. Speech from Throne (1830), iv. 100, 103, 108. Speech from Throne (1831), iv. 172. Speeches at state dinners, iv. 116, 117. Unconventionalities, iv. 118. Unpopular, iv. 179. Williamson, Dr. Hugh, iii. 154. Will's coffee-house, i. 75. Wilmington, Lord (_see_ Compton, Sir Spencer). Wilmot, Olivia, sketch of, iv. 286. Wilmot, Robert, on grievances against Spaniards, ii. 154. Wilson, Alexander, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Bill against, ii. 66, 68. Wilson's execution and Porteous riots, ii. 60, 61. Winchilsea, Earl of: Duel with Duke of Wellington, iv. 81. On Princess Anne's Dowry, ii. 44, 45. Letter on Duke of Wellington and Catholic Emancipation, iv. 80. Window tax, iii. 239. Wine-drinking in Georgian era, iii. 20. Wintoun, Earl of, a prisoner, i. 137. Escapes, i. 142. Witherington, Matilda, wife of Wolfe Tone, iii. 311, 329. Wolfe, James: At Culloden, ii. 227, 282. Character, ii. 282. Death, ii. 290. Monument, ii. 290. Wood, Alderman, supports Queen Caroline, iv. 5. Wood, William, patent for copper coins, i. 164, 241, 244. Withdrawn, i. 248. Wooster, --, iii. 179. Wray, Sir Cecil, opponent of Fox at Westminster, iii. 238. Writs of Assistance, iii. 84, 86. Wyndham, Sir William: Announces secession from Commons, ii. 173. Death, ii. 179. Leader of Tories, i. 287. On grievances against Spaniards, ii. 156. On Salt Tax, i. 313. Sketch of, i. 288; ii. 179. Speech on repeal of Septennial Act, ii. 12. Wynn, Sir Walter Williams, supports Young Pretender, ii. 221. Wynn, Watkin Williams, argument against long Parliaments, ii. 12. 

 Yale College, places in lists, iii. 77. York, Frederick Augustus, Duke of: Death, iv. 60. Public career, iv. 60. York in 1714, i. 79. Yorktown, Cornwallis surrenders at, iii. 184. Young, Arthur, travels in France, iii. 293. 

 Zinzendorf, Count von, founds Moravian sect, ii. 134. Zoological Gardens opened, iv. 93.