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DEPOSITED BY THE

LINONIAN AND BROTHERS LIBRARY

A HISTORY

OP

THE FOUR GEORGES

JUSTIN McCarthy, m.p.
AUTHOR OF "A HISTOKY OP OUR OWN TIMES" ETC.

IN FOUR VOLUMES
Vol. II.

NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
1890

B

^1
2.0 i

NOTE.
While this volume was passing through the press,
The English Sistorical Meview published an interest
ing article by Prof. J. K. Laughton on the subject of
Jenkins's Ear. Professor Laughton, while lately making
some researches in the Admiralty records, came on cer
tain correspondence which appears to have escaped notice
up to that time, and he regards it as incidentally confirm
ing the story of Jenkins's Ear, " which for certainly more
than a hundred years has generally been believed to be a
fable." The correspondence, in my opinion, leaves the
story exactly as it found it. We only learn from it that
Jenkins made a complaint about his ear to the English
naval commander at Port Royal, who received the talo
with a certain incredulity, but nevertheless sent formal
report of it to the Admiralty, and addressed a remon
strance to the Spanish authorities. But as Jenkins told
his story to every one he met, it is not very surprising
that he should have told it to the English admiral. No
one doubts that a part of one of Jenkins's ears was cut
off ; it will be seen in this volume that he actually at one
time exhibited the severed part ; but the question is,.
How did it come to be severed ? It might have been cut
off in the ordinary course of a scufile with the Spanish
revenue-officers who tried to search his vessel. The point
of the story is that Jenkins said the ear was deliberately
severed, and that the severed part was flung in his face,
with the insulting injunction to take that home to his
king. Whether Jenkins told the simple truth or in
dulged in a little fable is a question which the recently
published correspondence does not in any way help us to
settle.
J. McC.

CONTENTS

THE SECOND VOLUME.

ODAP,

PAUE

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 

... 83

XXVII.

"ROGUES AND VAGABONDS" ' . . . .

. . 93

XXVIII.

THE BANISHED PRINCE

... 104

XXIX.

TUE queen's DEATH-BED ....

. . 114

XXX.

THE WESLEYAN MOVEMENT . .

... 137

XXXI.

ENGLAND'S HONOR AND JENKINS'S EAR .

. . 147

XXXII.

WALPOLB YIELDS TO WAR . . .

. . 170

XXXIII.

"AND WHEN HE FALLS  " ....

185

XXXIV.

"THE FORTY-FIVE" 

. . 199

XXXV.

THE MARCH SOUTH ...

. . 308

XXXVI.

CULLODEN— AND AFTER .

... 331

XXXVIL

CHESTERFIELD IN DUBLIN CASTLE . . .

339

xxxvin.

PRIMUS IN INDIS ... 

... 353

XXXIX.

CHANGES 

... 374

XL.

CANADA 

... 383

XLI.

THE CLOSE OF THE REIGN 

... 393

A HISTORY OF
THE FOUR GEORGES.

CHAPTER XXI.
BOLINGBEOKE KOUTED AGAIN.
While " the King's friends " and the Patriots, other
wise the Court party and the country party, were speech-
making and pamphleteering, one of the greatest English
pamphleteers, who was also one of the masters of English
fiction, passed quietly out of existence. On April 24,
1731, Daniel Defoe died. It does not belong to the busi
ness of this history to narrate the life or describe the
works of Defoe. The book on which his fame will chief
ly rest was published just twenty years before his death.
" Robinson Crusoe" first thrilled the world in 1719. " Rob
inson Crusoe" has a place in literature as unassailable as
"Gulliver's Travels" or as "Don Quixote." Rousseau in
his "Emile" 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 dearest intel
lectual companions. At the present time, it is said, Eng
lish school-boys do not read " Robinson Crusoe." There
are laws of literary reaction in the tastes of school-boys as
of older people. There were days when the English pub
lic did not read Shakespeare ; but it was certain that
Shakespeare would come up again, and it is certain that
" Robinson Crusoe" will come up again. Defoe had been
vol. II. — 1

2 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. cii. xxi.
a fierce fighter in the political literature of his time, and
that was a trying time for the political gladiator. He
had, according to his own declaration, been thirteen times
rich and thirteen times poor. He had always written ac
cording to his convictions, and he had a spirit that no
enemy could cow, and that no persecution could break.
He had had the most wonderful ups and downs of fortune.
He had been patronized by sovereigns and persecuted by
statesmen. He had been fined; he had been pensioned;
he had been sent on political missions by one minister,
and he had been clapped into Newgate by another. He
had been applauded in the streets and he had been hooted
in the pillory. Had he not written "Robinson Crusoe"
he would still have held a high place in English literature,
because of the other romances that came from his teem
ing brain, and because of the political tracts that made so
deep and lasting 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 with it — it
" swallows all the rest." " While all ages and descriptions
of people," says Charles Lamb, "hang delighted over the
adventures of Robinson Crusoe, and will continue to do
so, we trust, while the world lasts, how few comparatively
will bear to be told that there exist other fictitious narra
tives by the same writer — four of them at least of no in
ferior interest, except what results from a less felicitous
choice of situation. 'Roxana,' 'Singleton,' 'Moll Flan
ders,' 'Colonel Jack,' are all genuine offsprings of the
same father. They bear the veritable impress of Defoe.
Even an unpractised midwife would swear to the nose, lip,
forehead, and eye of every one of them. They are, in
their way, as full of incident, and some of them every bit
as romantic; only they want the uninhabited island, and
the charm, that has bewitched the world, of the striking
solitary situation." Defoe died in poverty and solitude 
"alone with his glory." It is perhaps not uncurious to
note that in the same month of the same year, 1731 on

1733. GAY'S REQUEST. 3
April 8th, "Mrs. Elizabeth Cromwell, daughter of Richard
Cromwell, the Protector, and granddaughter of Oliver
Cromwell, died at her house in Bedford Row, in the
eighty-second year of her age."
The death of Gay followed not long after that of Defoe.
The versatile author of " The Beggars' Opera " had been
sinking for some years into a condition of almost unre
lieved despondency. He had had some disappointments,
and he was sensitive, and took them too much to heart.
He had had brilliant successes, and he had devoted friends,
but a slight failure was more to him than a great success,
and what he regarded as the falling-off of one friend was
for the time of more account to him than the steady and
faithful friendship of many men and women. Shortly be
fore 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 upon it :
" ' Life is a jest and all tilings show it :
I thought so once, but now I know it.' "
Gay died in the house of his friends, the Duke and
Duchess of Queensberry, on December 4, 1732. He was
buried near the tomb of Chaucer 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 a
man, simplicity a child." Gay is but little known to the
present generation. Young people or old people do not
read his fables any more — those fables which Rousseau
thought worthy of special discussion in his great treatise
on Education. The gallant Captain Macheath swaggers
and sings across the operatic stage no more, nor are tears
shed now for pretty Polly Peachum's troubles. Yet every
day some one quotes from Gay, and does not know what
he is quoting from.
Walpole was not magnanimous towards enemies who
had still the power to do him harm. When the enemy
could hurt him no longer, Walpole felt anger no longer;

4 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxi.
but it was not his humor to spare any man who stood in
his way and resisted him. If he was not magnanimous,
at least he did not affect magnanimity. He did not pre
tend to regard with contempt or indifference men whom
in his heart he believed to be formidable opponents. It
was a tribute to the capacity of a public man to be dis
liked by Walpole ; a still higher tribute to be dreaded by
him. One of the men whom the great minister was now
beginning to hold in serious dislike and dread was Philip
Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. Born in 1694,
Chesterfield was still what would be called in political life
a young man; he was not quite forty. He had led a va
ried 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 univer
sity. " When I talked my best I quoted Horace; when I
aimed at being facetious I quoted Martial; and when I
had a mind to be a fine gentleman I talked Ovid. I was
convinced that none but the ancients had common-sense;
that the classics contained everything that was either nec
essary, useful, or ornamental to me ; . . . and I was not
even without thoughts of wearing the toga virilis of the
Romans, instead of the vulgar and illiberal dress of the
moderns." Later he had been a devotee of fashion and
the gambling-table, was a man of fashion, and a gambler
still. He had travelled; had seen and studied life in many
countries and cities and courts; had seen and studied many
phases of life. He professed to be dissipated and even li
centious, but he had an ambitious and a daring spirit. He
well knew his own great gifts, and he knew also and
frankly recognized the defects of character and tempera
ment which were likely to neutralize their influence. If
he entered the House of Commons before the legal age,
if for long he preferred pleasure to politics, he was de
termined to make a mark in the political world. We
shall see much of Chesterfield in the course of this history;
we shall see how utterly unjust and absurd is the common
censure which sets him down as a literary and political

1733. CHESTERFIELD'S CHARACTER. 5
fribble; we shall see that his speeches were so good that
Horace Walpole declares that the finest speech he ever
listened to was one of Chesterfield's ; we shall see how
bold he could be, and what an enlightened judgment he
could bring to bear on the most difficult political ques
tions; we shall see how near he went to genuine political
greatness. It is not easy to form a secure opinion as to the real
character of Chesterfield. If one is to believe the accounts
of some of the contemporaries who came closest to him
and ought to have known him best, Chesterfield had
scarcely one great or good quality of heart. His intellect
no one disputed, but no one seems to have believed that
he had any savor of truth or honor or virtue. Hervey,
who was fond of beating out fancies fine, is at much
pains to compare and contrast Chesterfield with Scarbor
ough and Carteret. Thus, while Lord Scarborough was
always searching after truth, loving it, and adhering to it,
Chesterfield and Carteret were both of them most abomi
nably given to fable, and both of them often unnecessarily
and consequently indiscreetly so; "for whoever would lie
usefully should lie seldom." Lord Scarborough had un
derstanding, with judgment and without wit; Lord Ches
terfield a speculative head, with wit and without judg
ment. Lord Scarborough had honor and principle, while
Chesterfield and Carteret treated all principles of honesty
and integrity with such open contempt that they seemed
to think the appearance of these qualities would be of as
little use to them as the reality. In short. Lord Scarbor
ough was an honest, prudent man, capable of being a good
friend, while Lord Chesterfield and Carteret were dishon
est, imprudent creatures, whose principles practically told
all their acquaintance, " If you do not behave to me like
knaves, I shall either distrust you as hypocrites or laugh
at you as fools."
We have said already in this history that a reader, in
getting at an estimate of the charact;er of Lord Hervey,
will have to strike a sort of balance for himself between

6 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxi.
the extravagant censure flung at him by his enemies and
the extravagant praise blown to him by his friends. But
we find no such occasion or opportunity for striking a bal
ance in the case of Lord Chesterfield. All the testimony
goes the one way. What do we hear of him ? That he
was dwarfish; that he was hideously ugly; that he was
all but deformed; that he was utterly unprincipled, vain,
false, treacherous, and cruel; that he had not the slight
est faith in the honor of men or the virtue of women;
that he was silly enough to believe himself, with all his
personal defects, actually irresistible to the most gifted
and beautiful woman, and that he was mendacious enough
to proclaim himself the successful lover of women who
would not have given ear to his love-making for one mo
ment. Yet we cannot believe that Chesterfield was by
any means the monster of ugliness and selfish levity whom
his enemies, and some who called themselves his friends,
have painted for posterity. He was, says Hervey, short,
disproportioned, thick, and clumsily made; had a broad,
rough-featured, ugly fac^ with black teeth, and a head
big enough for a Polyphemus. " One Ben Ashurst, who
said few good things, though admired for many, told Lord
Chesterfield once that he was like a stunted giant, which
was a humorous idea and really apposite." His portraits
do not by any means bear out the common descriptions of
his personal appearance. Doubtless, Court painters then,
as now, flattered or idealized, but one can scarcely believe
that any painter coolly converted a hideous face into a
rather handsome one and went wholly unrejaroved by pub
lic opinion of his time. The truth probably is that Ches
terfield's bitter, sarcastic, and unsparing tongue made him
enemies, who came in the end to see nothing but deformi
ty in his person and perfidy in his heart. It is easy to say
epigrammatically of such a man that his propensity to
ridicule, in which he indulged himself with infinite hu
mor and no distinction, and with inexhaustible spirits and
no discretion, made him sought and feared, liked and not
loved, by most of his acquaintance; it is easy to say that

1733. CHESTERFIELD'S GOVERNING ABILITY. 7
no sex, no relation, no rank, no power, no profession, no
friendship, no obligation, was a shield from those pointed,
glittering weapons that seemed only to shine to a stander-
by, but cut deep in those they touched. But to say this
is not to say all, or to paint a fair picture. It is evident
that he delighted in passing himself off on serious and
heavy people as a mere trifler, paradox-maker, and cynic.
He invited them not to take him seriously, and they did
take him seriously, hnt the wrong way. They believed
that he was serious when he professed to have no faith in
anything; when he declared that he only lived for pleas
ure, and did not care by what means he got it; that poli
tics were to him ridiculous, and ambition was the folly of
a vulgar mind. We now know that he had an almost
boundless political ambition; and we know, too, that when
put under the responsibilities that make or mar statesmen,
he showed himself equal to a great task, and proved that
he knew how to govern a nation which no English states
man before his time or since was able to rule from Dublin
Castle. If the policy of Chesterfield had been adopted
with regard to Ireland, these countries would have been
saved more than a century of trouble. We cannot believe
the statesman to have been only superficial and worth
less who anticipated in his Irish policy the convictions of
Burke and the ideas of Fox.
The time, however, of Chesterfield's Irish administra
tion is yet to come. At j)resent he is still only a rising
man; but every one admits his eloquence and his capacity.
It was he who moved in the House of Lords the "ad
dress of condolence, congratulation, and thanks " for the
speech from the throne on the accession of George the
Second. Since then he had served the King in diplomacy.
He had been Minister to the Hague, and the Hague then
was a very different place, in the diplomatist'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
the making of important treaties. He was rewarded for
his services with the Garter, and was made Lord Steward

8 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. cii. xxi.
of the Household. He had distinguished himself highly
as an orator in the House of Lords ; had taken a place
among the very foremost parliamentary orators of the
" day. But he chafed against Walpole's dictatorship, and
soon began to show that he was determined not to endure
too much of it. He secretly did all he could to mar Wal
pole's excise scheme; he encouraged his three brothers to
oppose the bill in the House of Commons. He said witty
and sarcastic things about the measure, which of coarse
were duly reported to Walpole's ears. Perhaps Chester
field thought he stood too high to be in danger from Wal
pole's hand. If he did think so he soon found out his
mistake. Walpole's hand struck him down in the most
unsparing and humiliating wa'y. Public affront was add
ed to political deprivation. Lord Chesterfield was actu
ally going up the great stairs of St. James's Palace, 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 back the white staff which was the emblem of
his office, of all the chief offices of the Household, and
surrender it. Chesterfield took the demand thus ungra
ciously made with his usual composure and politeness.
He wrote a letter to the King, which the King showed
to Walpole, but did not think fit to answer. The letter,
Walpole afterwards told Lord Hervey, was " extremely
labored but not well done." Chesterfield immediately
passed into opposition, and became one of the bitterest
and most formidable enemies Walpole had to encounter.
Walpole's friends always justified his treatment of Ches
terfield by asserting that Chesterfield was one of a party
who were caballing against the minister at the time of
the excise scheme, and while Chesterfield was a member
of the Government. Chesterfield, it was declared, used
actually to attend certain private meetings and councils
of Walpole's enemies to concert measures against him.
There is nothing incredible or even unlikely in this; but
even if it were utterly untrue, we may assume that soon
er or later Walpole would have got rid of Chesterfield.

1733. WALPOLE'S ANIMOSITY. 9
Walpole's besetting weakness was that he could not en
dure any really capable colleague. The moment a man
showed any capacity for governing, Walpole would ap
pear to have made up his mind that that man and he were
not to govern together.
Walpole made a clean sweep of the men in office whom
he believed to have acted against him. He even went so
far as to deprive of their commissions in the army two
peers holding no manner of office in the Administration,
but whom he believed to have acted against him. To
strengthen himself in the House of Lords he conferred a
peerage on his attorney-general and on his solicitor-gen
eral. Philip Yorke, the Attorney - general, became Lord
Hardwicke and Chief -justice of the King's Bench;
Charles Talbot M'as made Lord Chancellor under the title
of Lord Talbot. Both were men of great ability. Hard
wicke stood higher in the rank at the bar than Talbot,
and in the ordinary course of things he ought to have
had the position of Lord Chancellor. But Talbot was
only great as a Chancery lawyer, and knew little or
nothing of common law, and it would have been out of
the question to make him Lord Chief -justice. So Wal
pole devised a characteristic scheme of compromise.
Hardwicke was induced to accept the office of Lord Chief-
justice on the salary being raised from £3000 to .£4000,
and with the further condition that an additional thou
sand a year was to be paid to him out of the Lord Chan
cellor's salary. This curious transaction Walpole man
aged through the Queen, and the Queen managed to get
the King to regard it as a clever device of his own men
tion. It is worth while to note that the only charge ever
made against Hardwicke by his contemporaries was a
charge of avarice ; he was stingy even in his hospitality,
his enemies said — a great offence in that day was to be
parsimonious with one's guests ; and malignant people
called him Judge Gripus. For aught else, his public and
private character were blameless. Hardwicke was the
stronger man of the two; Talbot the more subtle and in-
1*

10 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxi.
genious. Both were eloquent pleaders and skilled law
yers, each in his own department. Hervey says that " no
one could make more of a good cause than Lord Hard
wicke, and no one so much of a bad cause as Lord Tal
bot." Hardwicke lived to have a long career of honor,
and to win a secure place in English history. Lord Talbot
became at once a commanding influence in the House of
Lords. " Our new Lord Chancellor," the Earl of Strafford,
England's nominal and ornamental representative in the
negotiation for the peace of Utrecht, writes to Swift, " at
present has a great party in the House." But the new
Lord Chancellor did not live long enough for his fame.
He was destined to die within a few short years, and to
leave the wool-sack open for Lord Hardwicke.
The House of Commons has hardly ever been thrilled
to interest and roused to passion by a more heated, en
venomed, and, in the rhetorical sense, brilliant debate
than that which took place on March 13, 1734. The sub
ject of the debate was the motion of a country gentleman,
Mr. William Bromley, member for Warwick, " that leave
be given to bring in a bill for repealing the Septennial
Act, and for the more frequent meeting and calling of
Parliaments." The circumstances under which this mo
tion was brought forward gave it a peculiar importance
as a party movement. Before the debate began it was
agreed, upon a formal motion to that effect, "that the
Sergeant-at-arms attending the House should go with the
mace into Westminster Hall, and into the Court of Be
quests, and places adjacent, and summon the members
there to attend the service of the House."
The general elections were approaching ; the Parliament
then sitting had nearly run its course. The Patriots had
been making every possible preparation for a decisive
struggle against Walpole. They had been using every
weapon which partisan hatred and political craft could
supply or suggest. The fury roused up by the Excise
Bill had not yet wholly subsided. Public opinion still
throbbed and heaved like a sea the morning after a storm.

1734. THE PATRIOTS. 11
The Patriots had been exerting their best efforts to make
the country dissatisfied with Walpole's foreign policy.
The changes were incessantly rung upon the alleged dep
redations which the Spaniards were committing on our
mercantile marine. Long before the time for the general
elections had come, the Patriot candidates were stumping
the country. Their progress through each county was
marked by the wildest riots. The riots sometimes called
for the sternest military repression. On the other hand,
the Patriots themselves were denounced and discredited
by all the penmen, pamphleteers, and orators who sup
ported the Government on their own account, or were
hired by Walpole and Walpole's friends to support it. So
effective were some of these attacks, so damaging was the
incessant imputation that in the mouths of the Patriots
patriotism meant nothing but a desire for place and pay,
that Pulteney and his comrades found it advisable gradu
ally to shake off the name which had been put on them,
and which they had at one time willingly adopted. They
began to call themselves " the representatives of the coun
try interest."
The final struggle of the session was to take place on
the motion for the repeal of the Septennial Act. We
have already given an account of the passing of that Act
in 1716, and of the reasons which in our opinion justified
its passing. It cannot be questioned that there is much
to be said in favor of the principle of short Parliaments,
but in Walpole's time the one great object of true states
manship was to strengthen the power of the House of
Commons ; to enable it to stand up against the Crown
and the House of Lords. It would be all but impossible
for the House of Commons to maintain this position if
it were doomed to frequent and inevitable dissolutions.
Frequent dissolution of Parliament means frequently re
curring cost, struggle, anxiety, wear and tear, to the mem
bers ; and, of course, it meant all this in much higher
measure during the reign of George the Second than it
could mean in the reign of Victoria. Walpole had do-

12 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxi.
voted himself to the task of strengthening the representa
tive assembly, and he was, therefore, well justified in re
sisting the motion made by Mr. Bromley on March 13,
1734, for the repeal of the Septennial Act. Our interest
now, however, is not so much with the political aspect of
the debate as with its personal character. One illustra
tion of the corruption which existed at the time may be
mentioned in passing. It was used as an argument against
long Parliaments, but assuredly at that day it might have
been told of short Parliaments as well. Mr. Watkin Will
iams Wynn mentioned the fact that a former member of
the House of Commons, afterwards one of the judges of
the Common Pleas, " a gentleman who is now dead, and
therefore I may name him," declared that he " had never
been in the borough he represented in Parliament, nor
had ever seen or spoken with any of his electors." Of
course this worthy person, " afterwards one of the judges
of the Common Pleas," had simply sent down his agent
and bought the place. " I believe," added Mr. Wynn, "I
could without much difficulty name some who are now in
the same situation." No doubt he could.
Sir William Wyndham came on to speak. Wyndham
was now, of course, the close ally of Bolingbroke. He
hated Walpole. He made his whole speech one long de
nunciation of bribery and corruption, and gave it to be
understood that in his firm conviction Walpole only
wanted a long Parliament because it gave him better op
portunities to bribe and to corrupt. He went on to draw
a picture of what might come to pass under an unscrupu
lous minister, sustained by a corrupted septennial Parlia
ment. " Let us suppose," he said, " a gentleman at tlie
head of the Administration whose only safety depends
upon his corrupting the members of this House." Of
course Sir William went on to declare that lie only put
this as a supposition, but it was certainly a thing which
might come to pass, and was within the limits of possi
bility. If it did come to pass, could not such a minister
promise himself more success in a septennial than he

1734. A SUPPOSITITIOUS MINISTER. 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 the conduct and character of Walpole. Evidently
Wyndham did not fall into the mistake which posterity
appears to have made, and attribute to Walpole himself
the famous words about man and his price. Suppose a case
" which, though it has not happened, may possibly happen.
Let us suppose a man abandoned to all notions of virtue
and honor, of no great family, and of but a mean fortune,
raised to be chief Minister of State by the concurrence of
many whimsical events ; afraid or unwilling to trust to
any but creatures of his own making, and most of these
equally abandoned to all notions of virtue or honor; igno
rant of the true interest of his country, and consulting
nothing ^)ut that of enriching and aggrandizing himself
and his favorites." Sir William described this suppositi
tious personage as employing in foreign affairs none but
men whose education made it impossible for them to have
such qualifications as could be of any service to their
country or give any credit to their negotiations. Under
the rule of this minister the orator described " the true in
terests of the nation neglected, her honor and credit lost,
her trade insulted, her merchants plundered, and her sail
ors murdered, and all these things overlooked for fear
only his administration should be endangered. Suppose
this man possessed of great wealth, the plunder of the
nation, with a Parliament of his own choosing, most of
their seats purchased, and their votes bought at the ex
pense of the public treasure. In such a Parliament let us
suppose attempts made to inquire into his conduct or to
relieve the nation from the distress he has brought upon
it." Would it not be easy to suppose all such attempts
discomfited by a corrupt majority of the creatures whom
this minister " retains in daily pay or engages in his par
ticular interest by granting them those posts and places
which never ought to be given to any but for the good
of the public?" Sir William pictured this minister plum-

14 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxi.
ing himself upon " his scandalous victory " because he
found he had got " a Parliament, like a packed jury,
ready to acquit him at all adventures." Then, glowing
with his subject. Sir William Wyndham ventured to sug
gest a case which he blandly declared had never yet
happened in this nation, but which still might possibly
happen. "With such a minister and such a Parliament,
let us suppose a prince upon the throne, either from want
of true information or for some other reason, ignorant
and unacquainted with the inclinations and the interest
of his people, weak, and hurried away by unbounded am
bition and insatiable avarice. Could any greater curse
befall a nation 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 man
kind," the orator exclaimed, " cannot be altered by human
laws ; the existence of such a prince, of such a minister,
we cannot prevent by Act of Parliament ; but the exist
ence of such a Parliament, I think, we may; and, as such
a Parliament is much more likely to exist, and may do
more mischief while the Septennial Law remains in force
than if it were repealed, therefore I am most heartily in
favor of its immediate repeal."
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 the original of the portrait Sir William
Wyndham professed to be painting from imagination. It
was not indeed a true portrait of Walpole, but it was a
perfect photograph of what his enemies declared and even
believed Walpole to be. Such was the picture which the
Craftsman and the pamphleteers were painting every day
as the likeness of the great minister ; but it was some
thing new, fresh, and bold to paint such a picture under
the eyes of Walpole himself. The speech was hailed with
the wildest enthusiasm and delight by all the Jacobites,
Patriots, and representatives of the country interest, and
there is even some good reason to believe that it gave a
certain secret satisfaction to some of those who most

1784. AN EFFECTIVE REPLY. 15
steadily supported Walpole by their votes. But Walpole
was not by any means the sort of man whom it is quite
safe to visit with such an attack. The speech of Sir Will
iam Wyndham had doubtless been carefully prepared, and
Walpole had but a short time, but a breathing - space,
while two or three speeches were made, in which to get
ready his reply. When he rose to address the House it
soon became evident that he had something to say, and
that he was determined to give his adversary at least as
good as he brought. Nothing could be more effective
than Walpole's method of replj'. It was not to Sir Will
iam Wyndham that he replied ; at least it was not Sir
William Wyndham whom he attacked. Walpole passed
Wyndham by altogether. Wyndham he well knew to be
but the mouth-piece of Bolingbroke, and it was at Boling
broke 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 not mean to give a description of any par
ticular person now in being. Indeed," Walpole added,
ingenuously, " the House being cleared, I am sure no per
son that hears me can come within the description of the
person I am to suppose." This was a clever touch, and
gave a new barb to the dart which Walpole was about to
fling. The House was cleared ; none but members were
present ; the description applied to none within hearing.
Bolingbroke, of course, was not a member ; he could not
hear what Walpole was saying. Then Walpole went on
to paint his picture. He supposed, "in this or in some
other unfortunate country, an anti- minister ... in a
country where he really ought not to be, and where he
could not have been but by an effect of too much good
ness and mercy, yet endeavoring with all his might and
with all his art to destroy the fountain from whence that
mercy flowed." Walpole depicted this anti-minister as
one "who thinks himself a person of so great and exten
sive parts, and of so many eminent qualifications, that he
looks upon himself as the only person in the kingdom
capable of conducting the public affairs of the nation."

16 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxi.
Walpole supposed " this fine gentleman lucky enough to
have gained over to his party some persons of really great
parts, of ancient families, and of large fortunes, and oth
ers of desperate views, arising from disappointed and
malicious hearts." Walpole grouped with fine freehand-
drawing the band of conspirators thus formed under the
leadership of this anti-minister. All the band were moved
in their political behavior by him, and by him solely. All
they said, either in private or public, was " only a repeti
tion of the words he had put into their mouths, and a spit
ting forth of the venom which he had infused into them."
Walpole asked the House to suppose, nevertheless, that
this anti-minister was not really liked by any even of
those who blindly followed him, and was hated by the rest
of mankind. He showed him contracting friendships and
alliances with all foreign ministers who were hostile to his
own country, and endeavoring to get at the political se
crets of English administrations in order that he might
betray them to foreign and hostile States. Further, he
asked the House to suppose this man travelling from for
eign court to court, making it his trade to betray the se
crets of each court where he had most lately been, void of
all faith and honor, delighting to be treacherous and trai
torous to every master whom he had served and who had
shown favor to him. " Sir, I could carry my suppositions
a great deal further; but if we can suppose such a one as
I have pictured, can there be imagined a greater disgrace
to human nature than a wretch like this ?"
The ministers triumphed by a majority of 247 to 184.
Walpole was the victor in more than the mere parliamen
tary majority. He had conquered in the fierce parliamen
tary duel.
There is a common impression that Walpole's speech
hunted Bolingbroke out 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;

1734. AN UNSTABLE ALLIANCE. 17
Bolingbroke did not leave England until the early part of
1735. The actual date of his leaving England is not cer
tain, but Pulteney, writing to Swift on April 29, 1735,
adds in a postscript : " Lord Bolingbroke is going to
France with Lord Berkeley, but, I believe, will return
again in a few months." No one could have known
better than Pulteney that Bolingbroke was not likely to
return to England in a few months. Still, although Bol
ingbroke did not make a hasty retreat, history is well
warranted in saying that Walpole's powerful piece of in
vective closed the door once for all against Bolingbroke's
career in English politics. Bolingbroke could not but
perceive that Walpole's accusations against him sank
deeply into the heart of the English people. lie could
not but see that some of those with whom he had been
most closely allied of late years were impressed with the
force of the invective; not, indeed, by its moral force, but
by the thought of the influence it must have on the coun
try. It may well have occurred to Pulteney, for example,
as he listened to Walpole's denunciation, that the value
of an associate was more than doubtful whom the public
could recognize at a glance as the original of such a por
trait. There had been disputes now and then already.
Bolingbroke was too much disposed to regard himself as
master of the situation; Pulteney was not unnaturally in
clined to believe that he had a much better understanding
of the existing political conditions ; he complained that
Wyndham submitted too much to Bolingbroke's dictation.
The whole alliance was founded on unstable and unwhole
some principles; it was sure to crumble and collapse soon
er or later. There can be no question but that Walpole's
invective precipitated the collapse. With consummate
political art he had drawn his picture of Bolingbroke in
such form as to make it especially odious just then to
Englishmen. The mere supposition that an English states
man has packed cards with a foreign enemy 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 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxi.
or even national detestation. But in Bolingbroke's case
it was no mere supposition. No one could doubt that he
had often traded on the political interests of his own coun
try. In truth, there was but little of the Englishman about
him. His gifts and his vices were alike of a foreign stamp.
Walpole was, for good or ill, a genuine sturdy Englishman.
His words, his actions, his policy, his schemes, his faults,
his vices, were thorough English. It was as an English
man, as an English citizen, more than as a statesman or an
orator, that he bore down Bolingbroke in this memorable
debate. Bolingbroke must have felt himself borne down. He did
not long carry on the struggle into which he had plunged
with so much alacrity and energy, with such malice and
such hope. Pulteney advised him to go back for a while
to France, and in the early part of 1734 he took the ad
vice and went. "My part is over," he wrote to Wynd
ham, in words which have a certain pathetic dignity in
them, " and he who remains on the stage after his part is
over deserves to be hissed off." His departure — it might
almost be called his second flight — to the Continent was
probably hastened also by the knowledge that a pamphlet
was about to be published by some of his enemies, con
taining a series of letters which had passed between him
and James Stuart's secretary, after Bolingbroke's dismis
sal from the service of James in 1716. The pamphlet was
suppressed immediately on its appearance, but its contents
have been republished, and they were certainly not of a
character to render Bolingbroke any the less unpopular
among Englishmen.
The correspondence consisted in a series of letters that
passed between Bolingbroke, through his secretary, and
Mr. James Murray, acting on behalf of James Stuart,
from whom he afterwards received the title of Earl of
Dunbar. The letters are little more than mere recriminations.
Bolingbroke is accused of having brought about the fail
ure of the insurrection of 1715 by weakness, folly, and

1734. BOLINGBROKE A HURTFUL ALLY. 19
even downright treachery. Bolingbroke flings back the
charges at the head of James's friends, and even of James
himself. There was nothing brought out in 1734 and 1735
to affect the career and conduct of Bolingbroke which all
England did not know pretty well already. Still, the re
vival of these old stories must have seemed to Bolingbroke
very inconvenient and dangerous at such a time. The cor
respondence reminded England once more that Boling
broke had been the agent of the exiled Stuarts in the work
of stirring up a civil war for the overthrow of the House
of Hanover. No doubt the publication quickened Boling
broke's desire to get out of England. But he would have
gone, in any case; he would have had to go. The whole
cabal with Pulteney had been a failure; Bolingbroke would
thenceforward be a hinderance rather than a help to the
Patriots. His counsel was of no further avail, and he
only brought odium on them; indeed, his advice had from
first to last been misleading and ill-omened. The Patriots
were now only anxious to get rid of him; Pulteney gave
Bolingbroke pretty clearly to understand that they want
ed him to go, and he went.
Walpole's speech, and the whole of the debate of which
it made so striking a feature, could not but have a power
ful effect on the general elections. Parliament was dis
solved on April 16, 1734, after having nearly run the full
course of seven years. Seldom has a general election
been contested with such a prodigality of partisan fury
and public corruption. Walpole scattered his purchase-
money everywhere; he sowed with the sack and not with
the hand, to adopt the famous saying applied by a Greek
poetess to Pindar. In supporting two candidates for Nor
folk, who were both beaten, despite his support, he spent
out of his j)rivate fortune at least £10,000; one contempo
rary says £60,000. But the Opposition spent just as freely
— more freely, perhaps. It must be remembered that even
so pure-minded a man as Burke has contended that " the
charge of systematic corruption " was less applicable, per
haps, to Walpole "than to any other minister who ever

20 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxi.
served the Crown for such a length of time." The Oppo
sition were decidedly more reckless in their incitements to
violence than the friends of the Ministry. The Craftsman
boasted that when Walpole came to give his vote as an
honorary freeman at Norwich the people called aloud to
have the bribery oath administered to him; called on him
to swear that he had received no money for his vote. All
the efforts of the Patriots, or the representatives of the
country interest, as they now preferred to call themselves,
failed to bring about the end they aimed at. They did,
indeed, increase their parliamentary vote a little, but the
increase was not enough to make any material difference
in their position. All the wit, the eloquence, the craft,
the courage, the unscrupulous use of every weapon of po
litical warfare that could be seized and handled, had been
thrown away. Walpole was, for the time, just as strong
as ever.
We turn aside from the movement and rush of politics
to lay a memorial spray on the grave of a good and a
gifted man. Dr. Arbuthnot died in February, 1735, only
sixty years old. " Poor Arbuthnot," Pulteney writes to
Swift, " who grieved to see the wickedness of mankind,
and was particularly esteemed of his own countrymen, is
dead. He lived the last six months in a bad state of
health, and hoping every night would be his last; not that
he endured any bodily pain, but as he was quite weary of
the world, and tired with so much bad company." Al
derman Barber, in a letter to Swift a few days after, says
much the same. He is afraid, he tells Swift, that Arbuth
not did not take as much care of himself as he ouwht to
have done. " Possibly he might think the play not worth
the candle. You may remember Dr. Garth said he was
glad when he was dying, for he was weary of having his
shoes pulled off and on." A letter from Arbuthnot him
self to Swift, written a short time before his death, is not,
however, filled with mere discontent, does not breathe only
a morbid weariness of life, but rather testifies to a serene
and noble resignation. "I am going," he tells Swift, "out

1733. SWIFT'S OPINION OF ARBUTHNOT. 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 dear friend, we shall never see one another
more in this world. I shall to the last moment preserve
my love and esteem for you, being well assured you will
never leave the paths of virtue and honor for all that is
in the world. This world is not worth the least deviation
from that way." Thus the great physician, scientific schol
ar, and humorist awaited his death and died. We have
spoken already in this history of Arbuthnot's marvellous
humor and satire. Macaulay, in his essay on " The Life
and Writings of Addison," says "there are passages in
Arbuthnot's satirical works which we, at least, cannot dis
tinguish from Swift's best writing." Swift himself spoke
of Arbuthnot in yet higher terms. " He has more wit
than we all have," was Swift's declaration, " and his hu
manity is equal to his wit." There are not many satirists
known to men during all literary history of whom quite
so much could be said with any faintest color of a regard
for truth. Swift was too warm in his friendly panegyric
on Arbuthnot's humor, but he did not too highly estimate
Arbuthnot's humanity. Humor is among man's highest
gifts, and has done the world splendid service; but hu
mor and humanity together make the mercy winged with
brave actions, which, according to Massinger, befit "a soul
moulded for heaven" and destined to be "made a star
there."

22 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.

CHAPTER XXII.
TDE "family compact."
The new Parliament met on January 14, 1735. The
Royal intimation was given to the House of Commons by
the Lord Chancellor that it was his Majesty's pleasure
that they should return to their own House and choose
a Speaker. Arthur Onslow was unanimously elected, or
rather re-elected, to the chair he had filled with so much
distinction in the former Parliament. The speech from
the throne was not delivered until January 23. The
speech was almost all taken up with foreign affairs, with
the war on the Continent, and the efforts of the King and
his ministers, in combination with the States General of
the United Provinces, to extinguish it. " I have the sat
isfaction to acquaint you," the King said, " that things are
now brought to so great a forwardness that I hope in a
short time a plan will be offered to the consideration of
all the parties engaged in the present war, as a basis for
a general negotiation of peace, in which the honor and the
interest of all parties have been consulted as far as the
circumstances of time and the present posture of affairs
would admit." The Royal speech did not contain one sin
gle word which had to do with the internal condition of
England, with the daily lives of the English people. No
legislation was promised, or even hinted at, which con
cerned the domestic interests of these islands. The House
of Lords set to work at once in the preparation of an ad
dress in reply to the speech from the throne ; and they,
too, debated only of foreign affairs, and took no more ac
count of their own fellow-countrymen than of the dwellers
in Jupiter or Saturn.

1735. THE POLISH THRONE. 23
The war to which the Royal speech referred had been
dragging along for some time. No quarrel could have
less direct interest for the English people than that about
which the Emperor Charles the Sixth and the King of
France, Louis the Fifteenth, were fighting. On the death
of Augustus the Second of Poland, in February, 1733,
Louis thought it a good opportunity for putting his own
father-in-law, Stanislaus Leszczynski, back on the throne
of Poland, from which he had twice been driven. Poland
was a republic with an elective king, and a very peculiar
form of constitution, by virtue of which any one of the
estates or electoral colleges of the realm was in a position
to stop the action of all the others at any crisis when de
cision was especially needed. The result of this was that
the elected king was always a nominee of one or another
of the great Continental Powers who took it on them
selves to intervene in the affairs of Poland. The election
of a King of Poland was always a mere struggle between
these Powers : the strongest at the moment carried its
man. Stanislaus, the father of Louis the Fifteenth's wife,
had been a protege of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden.
He was a man of illustrious family and of great and varied
abilities, a scholar and a writer. Charles drove Augustus
the Second, Augustus, Elector of Saxony, from the throne
of Poland, and set up Stanislaus in his place. Stanislaus,
however, was driven out of the country by Augustus and
his friends, who rallied and became strong in the tempo
rary difficulties of Charles. When Charles found time to
turn his attention to Poland he soon overthrew Augustus
and set up Stanislaus once again. But "hide, blushing
glory, hide Pultowa's day"; the fall of the great Charles
came, and brought with it the fall of Stanislaus. Augus
tus re-entered Poland at the head of a Saxon army, and
Stanislaus was compelled to abdicate. Now that Augus
tus was dead, Louis the Fifteenth determined to bring
Stanislaus out from his retirement of many years and set
him for the third time on the Polish throne. On the other
hand, the Emperor and Russia alike favored the son of

A niSTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. on. xxil.
24 the late king, another Augustus, Elector of Saxony The
Fxench party carried Stanislaus, although at the time of
his abdication, three or four and twenty years before, he
had been declared incapable of ever again being elected
King of Poland. The Saxon party, secretly backed up by
Russia resisted Stanislaus, attacked his partisans, drove
him once more from Warsaw, and proclaimed Augustus
the Third. Louis of France declared war, not on Russia,
but on the Emperor, alleging that the Emperor had been
the inspiration and support of the Saxon movement. A
French army under Marshal Berwick, son of James the
Second of England, crossed the Rhine and took the fort
of Kehl — the scene of a memorable crossing of the Rhine,
to be recrossed very rapidly after, in days nearer to our
own. Spain and Sardinia were in alliance with Louis, and
the Emperor's army, although led by the great Eugene,
" Der edle Ritter," was not able to make head against the
French. The Emperor sent frequent urgent and impas
sioned appeals to England for assistance. George was
anxious to lend him a helping liand, clamored to be al
lowed to take the field himself and win glory in battle ;
camps and battle-fields were what he loved most, he kept
dinning into Walpole's unappreciative ear. Even the
Queen was not disinclined to draw the sword in defence
of an imperilled and harassed ally.
Walpole stuck to his policy of masterly inactivity. He
would have wished to exclude Stanislaus from the Polish
throne, but he was not willing to go to war with France.
He could not bring himself to believe that the interests
of Eno-land were concerned in the struggle to such a de
gree as to warrant the waste of English money and the
pouring out of English blood. But he did not take his
stand on such a broad and clear position ; indeed at that
time it would not have been a firm or a tenable position.
Walpole did not venture to say that the question whether
this man or that was to sit on the throne of Poland was
not worth the life of one British grenadier. The time
had not come when even a great minister might venture

1735. THE EMPEROR'S DENUNCIATION OF WALPOLE. 25
to look at an international 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 prolonged nego
tiations with the Government of the Netherlands to in
duce the States General to join with England in an offer
of mediation. The Emperor was all the time sending
despatches to England, in which he bitterly complained
that he had been deceived and deserted. He laid all the
blame on Walpole's head. Pages of denunciation of Wal
pole and all Walpole's family are to be found in these im
perial despatches. Walpole remained firm to his purpose.
He would not go to war, but it did not suit him to pro
claim his determination. He kept up his appearance of
active negotiation, and he trusted to time to settle the
question one way or the other before King George should
get too restive, and should insist on plunging into the
war. He had many an uneasy hour, but his policy suc
ceeded in the end.
The controversy out of which the war began was com
plicated by other questions and made formidable by the
rival pursuit of other ends than those to be acknowledged
in public treaty. It would be unjust and even absurd to
suppose that Walpole's opponents believed England had
a direct interest in the question of the Polish succession,
or that they would have shed the blood of English grena
diers merely in order that this candidate and not that
should be on the throne of Poland. What the Opposition
contended was that the alliance of France and Spain was
in reality directed quite as much against England as
.".gainst the Emperor. In this they were perfectly right.
It was directed as much against England as against the
Emperor. Little more than forty years ago a collection
of treaties and engagements entered into by the Spanish
branch of the Bourbon family found its way to the light
of dav in Madrid. The publication was the means of
pouring a very flood of light on some events which per
plexed and distracted the outer Avorld in the days at

26 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxii.
which, in the course of this history, we have now arrived.
We speak especially of the Polish war of succession and
the policy pursued with regard to it by France and Spain.
The collection of documents contained a copy of a treaty
or arrangement entered into between the King of France
and the King of Spain in 1733. This was, in fact, the
first family compact, the first of a series of family com
pacts, entered into between the Bourbons in Versailles
and the Bourbons in Madrid. The engagement, which
in modern European history is conventionally known as
" the family compact " between the Bourbon Houses, the
compact of 1761, the compact which Burke described as
" the most odious and formidable of all the conspiracies
against the liberties of Europe that ever have been framed,"
was really only the third of a series. The second compact
was in 1743. The object of these successive agreements
was one and the same : to maintain and extend the pos
sessions of the Bourbons in Europe and outside Europe,
and to weaken and divide the supposed enemies of Bour
bon 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 pledged them
selves to the interests of "the most serene infant Don
Carlos," afterwards for a time King of the Sicilies, and
then finally King of Spain. The compact defined the al
liance as "a mutual guarantee of all the possessions and
the honor, interests, and glory " of the two Houses. It
was described as an alliance to protect Don Carlos, and
the family generally, against the Emperor and against
England. France bound herself to aid Spain with all her
forces by land or sea if Spain should see fit to suspend
" England's- enjoyment of commerce," and England should
retaliate by hostilities on the dominions of Spain, within
or outside of Europe. The French King also pledged
himself to employ without interruption his most pressing
instances to induce the King of Great Britain to restore
Gibraltar to Spain; pledged himself even to use force for
this purpose if necessary. There were fnll and precise

1735. COMPACT BETWEEN THE HOUSES OF BOURBON. 27
stipulations about the disposition of armies and naval
squadrons under various conditions. One article in the
treaty bluntly declared that the foreign policy of both
States, France and Spain, was to be "guided exclusively
by the interests of the House." The engagement was to
be kept secret, and was to be regarded "from that day as
an eternal and irrevocable family compact." No con
spiracy ever could have been more flagrant, more selfish,
and more cruel. The deeper we get into the secrets of
European history, the more we come to learn the truth
that the crowned conspirators were always the worst.
This first family compact is the key to all the subse
quent history of European wars down to the days of the
French Revolution. The object of one set of men was to
maintain and add to the advantages secured to them by
the Treaty of Utrecht ; the object of another set of men
was to shake themselves free from the disadvantages and
disqualifications which that treaty imposed on them. The
Bourbon family were possessed with the determination to
maintain the position in Spain which the will of Charles
the Second had bequeathed to them, and which after so
many years of war and blood had been ratified by the
Treaty of Utrecht. They wanted to maintain their posi
tion in Spain; but they wanted not that alone. They
wanted much more. They wanted to plant a firm foot in
Italy; they wanted to annex border provinces to France;
they saw that their great enemy was England, and they
wanted to weaken and to damage her. No reasonable
Englishman can find fault with the Kings of Spain for
their desire to recover Gibraltar. An English sovereign
would have conspired with any foreign State for the re
covery of Dover Castle and rock if these were held 'by a
Spanish invader too strong to be driven out by England
single-handed. Many Englishmen were of opinion then,
some are of opinion now, that it would be an act of wise
and generous policy to give Gibraltar back to the Spanish
people. But no Englishman could possibly doubt that if
England were determined to keep Gibraltar she must

28 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxii.
hold it her duty to watch with the keenest attention ev
ery movement which indicated an alliance between France
and Spain.
Spain had at one time sought security for her interests,
and a new chance for her ambitions, by alliance with the
Emperor. Of late she had found that the Emperor gen
erally got all the subsidies and all the other advantages of
the alliance, and that Spain was left rather worse off after
each successive settlement than she was before it. The
family compact between the two Houses of Bourbon was
one result of her experience in this way. Of course, when
we talk of France and Spain, we are talking merely of the
Courts and the families. The people of France and Spain
were never consulted, and, indeed, were never thought of,
in these imperial and regal engagements. Nor at this par
ticular juncture had the King of Spain much more to do
with the matter than the humblest of his people. King
Philip the Fifth was a hypochondriac, a half -demented
creature, almost a madman. He was now the tame and
willing subject of the most absolute petticoat government.
His second wife, Elizabeth of Parma, ruled him with firm,
unswerving hand. Her son, Don Carlos, was heir in her
right to the Duchies of Parma and Placentia, but she was
ambitious of a brighter crown for him, and went into the
war with an eye to the throne of Naples. The Emperor
soon found that he could not hold out against the alliance,
and consented to accept the mediation of England and the
United Provinces.
The negotiations were long and dragging. Many times
it became apparent that Louis on his part was only pre
tending a willingness to compromise and make peace in
order to strengthen himself the more for the complete
prosecution of a successful war. At last a plan of pacifi
cation was agreed upon between England and Holland ;
and at the same time the King of England entered into
an alliance, offensive and defensive, with the King of Den
mark, this latter treaty, as George significantly described
it in the speech from the throne, " of great importance in

1735. "BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE." 29
the present conjuncture." These engagements did not
pass without severe criticism in Parliament. It was point
ed out with effect that the nation had for some time back
been engaged in making treaty after treaty, each new en
gagement being described as essential to the safety of the
empire, but each proving in turn to be utterly ineffica
cious. In the House of Lords a dissatisfied peer described
the situation very well. " The last treaty," he said, " al
ways wanted a new one in order to carry it into execu
tion, and thus, my Lords, we have been a-botching and
piecing up one treaty with another for several years."
The botching and piecing up did not in this instance pre
vent the outbreak of the war. The opposing forces, after
long delays, at length rushed at each other, and, as was
said in the speech from the throne at the opening of the
session of 1736, "the war was carried on in some parts in
such a manner as to give very just apprehensions that it
would unavoidably become general, from an absolute ne
cessity of preserving that balance of power on which the
safety and commerce of the maritime powers so much de
pend." With any other minister than Walpole to manage
affairs, England would unquestionably have been drawn
into the war. Walpole's strong determination and ingen
ious delays carried his policy through.
The war has one point of peculiar and romantic inter
est for Englishmen. Charles Edward Stuart, the " bonnie
Prince Charlie " of a later date, the hero and darling of
so much devotion, poetry, and romance, received his bap
tism of fire in the Italian campaign under Don Carlos.
Charles Edward was then a mere boy. He was born in
the later days of 1720, and was 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 with
every mark of honor by Don Carlos. The English Court
heard rumors that Don 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 he identified himself
with the cause of the exiled family. There were demands

30 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxii.
for explanation made by the English minister at the Span
ish Court, and explanations were given and excuses of
fered. It was all merely because of a request made by
the Duke of Berwick's son, the Spanish prime-minister
said. The Duke of Berwick's son asked permission to
bring his cousin Charles Edward to serve as a volunteer,
and the Court of Spain consented, not seeing the slightest
objection to such a request ; but there was not the faint
est idea of receiving the boy as a king's son. King George
and Queen Caroline were both very angry, but Walpole
wisely told them that they must either resent the offence
thoroughly, and by war, or accept the explanations and
pretend to be satisfied with them. Walpole's advice pre
vailed, and the boy prince fleshed his maiden sword with
out giving occasion to George the Second to seek the en
sanguined laurels for which he told Walpole he bad long
been thirsting. The Hanoverian kings were, to do them
justice, generally rather magnanimous in their way of
treating the pretensions of the exiled family. We may
fairly assume that the conduct of the Spanish prince in
this instance did somewhat exceed legitimate bounds.
George was wise, however, in consenting to accept the
explanations, and to make as little of the incident as the
Court of Spain professed to do.
Incidents such as this, and the interchange of explana
tions which had to follow them, naturally tended to stretch
out the negotiations for peace which England was still car
rying on. Again and again it seemed as if the attempts
to bring about a settlement of the controversy must all be
doomed to failure. At last, however, terms of arrange
ment were concluded. Augustus was acknowledged King
of Poland. Stanislaus was allowed to retain the royal title,
and was put in immediate possession of the Duchy of Lor
raine, which after his death was to become a province of
France. The Spanish prince obtained the throne of the
Two Sicilies. France was thought to have done a great
thing for herself by the annexation of Lorraine ; in later
times it seemed to have been an ill-omened acquisition.

1735. SUCCESS OF WALPOLE'S POLICY. 31
The terms of peace were, on the whole, about as satisfac
tory as any one could have expected. Walpole certainly
had got all he wanted. He wanted to keep England out
of the war, and he wanted at the same time to maintain
and to reassert her influence over the politics of the Con
tinent. He accomplished both these objects. Bolingbroke
said it was only Walpole's luck. History more truly says
it was Walpole's patience and genius.
Did Walpole know all this time that there was a dis
tinct and deliberate family compact, a secret treaty of al
liance, a formal, circumstantial, binding agreement, con
signed to written words, between France and Spain, for
the promotion of their common desires and for the crip
pling of England's power? Mr. J. R. Green appears to
be convinced that " neither England nor Walpole " knew
of it. The English people certainly did not know of it ;
and it is commonly taken for granted by historians that
while Walpole was pursuing his policy of peace he was
not aware of the existence of this family compact. It has
even been pleaded, in defence of him and his policy, that
he did not know that the war, in which he believed Eng
land to have little or no interest, was only one outcome of
a secret plot, having for its object, among other objects,
the humiliation and the detriment of England. There are
writers who seem to assume it as a matter of certainty
that if Walpole had known of this family compact ho
would have adopted a very different course. But does it
by any means follow that, even if he had been all the time
in possession of a correct copy of the secret agreement, he
would have acted otherwise than as he did act? Does it
follow that if Walpole did know all about it, he was wrong
in adhering to his policy of non-intervention ? A very in
teresting and instructive essay by Professor Seely on the
House of Bourbon, published in the first number of the
English Historical Hevieio, makes clear as light the place
of this first family compact in the history of the wars that
succeeded it. Professor Seely puts it beyond dispute that
in every subsequent movement of France and Spain the

32 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxii.
working of this compact was made apparent. He shows
that it was fraught with the most formidable danger to
England. Inferentially 'ne seems to convey the idea that
Walpole was wrong when he clung to his policy of mas
terly inactivity, and that he ought to have intervened in
the interests of England. We admit all his premises and
reject his conclusion.
Walpole might well have thought that the best way to
mar the object of the conspirators against England was to
keep England as much as possible out of continental wars.
He might well have thought that so long as England was
prosperous and strong she could afford to smile at the
machinations of any foreign kings and statesmen. We
may be sure that he would not have allowed himself to be
drawn away from the path of policy he thought it expe
dient to follow by any mere feelings of anger at the en
mity of the foreign kings and statesmen. He might have
felt as a composed and strong-minded man would feel who,
quite determined not to sit down to the gaming-table, is
amused by the signals which he sees passing between the
cheating confederates who are making preparations to win
his money. Besides, even if he knew nothing of the fam
ily compact, he certainly was not ignorant of the general
scope of the policy of France and of Spain. He was not
a man likely at any time to put too much trust in princes
or in any other persons, and we need not doubt that in
making his calculations he took into full account the j)os-
sibility of France and Spain packing cards for the injury
of England. The existence of the family compact is a
very interesting fact in history, and enables us now to un
derstand with perfect clearness many things that must
have perplexed and astonished the readers of an earlier
day. But, so far as the policy of Walpole regarding the
war of the Polish Succession was concerned, we do not be
lieve that it would have been modified to any considerable
extent, even if he had been in full possession of all the se
cret papers in the cabinet of the King of France and tho
Queen of Spain.

1735. PROFESSOR SEELY AND THE SECRET TREATY. 33
But is it certain that Walpole did not know of the ex
istence of this secret treaty? It is certain now that if he
did not know of it he might have known. Other English
statesmen of the day did know of it — at least, had heard
that such a thing was in existence, and were or might
_ have been forewarned against it. Professor Seely puts it
beyond doubt that the family compact was talked of and
written of by English diplomatists at the time, was be
lieved in by some, treated sceptically by others. The
Duke of Newcastle actually called it by the very name
which history formally gives to the arrangement made
many years after and denounced by Burke. He speaks of
"the offensive and defensive alliance between France and
Spain, called the pacte defamille." Is it likely, is it credi
ble, that Walpole had never heard of the existence of a
compact which was known to the Duke of Newcastle?
Archdeacon Coxe, in his "Life of Walpole," contends
that Newcastle was not by any means the merely absurd
sort of person whom most historians and biographers de
light to paint him. " He had a quick comprehension and
was a ready debater," Coxe says, although without grace
or style. "He wrote with uncommon facility and great
variety of expression, and in his most confidential letters,
written so quickly as to be almost illegible, there is scarce
ly a single alteration or erasure." But certainly Newcas
tle was not a man likely to keep to himself the knowledge
of such a fact as the family compact, or even the knowl
edge that some people believed in the existence of such an
arrangement. For ourselves, we are quite prepared to as
sume that Walpole had heard of the family compact, but
that it did not disturb his calculations or disarrange his
policy. From some of his own letters written at the time
it is evident that he did not put any faith in the abiding
nature of family compacts between sovereigns. More than
once he takes occasion to point out that where political in
terests interfered family arrangements went to the wall.
As to the general rule Walpole was quite right. We have
seen the fact illustrated over and over again even in our
2*

34 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxii.
own days. But Walpole appears to have overlooked the
important peculiarity of this family compact ; it was an
engagement in which the political interests and the domes
tic interests of the families were at last inextricably inter
twined ; it was a reciprocal agreement for the protection
of common interests and the attainment of common ob- ^
jects. Such a compact might be trusted to hold good
even among Bourbon princes. On the whole, we are in
clined to come to the conclusion that if Walpole knew
anything about the compact — and we think he did knov/
something about it — ^he was quite right in not allowing it
to disturb his policy of non-intervention, but that he was
not quite sound in his judgment if he held his peaceful
course only because he did not believe that such a family
bond between members of such a family would hold good.
" Tenez, prince," the Due d'Aumale wrote to Prince Napo
leon- Jer6me in a pamphlet which was once famous, " there
is one promise of a Bonaparte which we can always be
lieve — the promise that he will kill somebody." One
pledge of a Bourbon with another Bourbon the world
could always rely upon — the pledge to maintain a com
mon interest and gratify a common ambition.
The war cost one illustrious life, that of the brave and
noble Duke of Berwick, whom Montesquieu likened to the
best of the heroes of Plutarch, or rather in whom Montes
quieu declared that he saw the best of Plutarch's heroes
in the life. When Bolingbroke was denouncing the set
of men who surrounded James Stuart at St. Germains he
specially exempted Berwick from reproach. He spoke of
Berwick as one " who has a hundred times more capacity
and credit than all the rest put together," but added sig
nificantly that he "is not to be reckoned of the Court,
though he has lodgings in the house." . Berwick was the
n.atural son of James the Second and Arabella Churchill,
sister to the Duke of Marlborough. When the day of
James's destiny as King of England was over, Berwick
gave his bright sword to the service of France. He be
came a naturalized Frenchman and rose to the command

l'?35. DEATH OF BERWICK. 35
of the French army. He won the splendid victory of
Almanza over the combined forces of England and her
various allies. "A Roman by a Roman valiantly o'er-
come," defeated Englishmen might have exclaimed. He
was killed by a cannon-ball on ground not far from that
whereon the great Turenne had fallen — killed by the
cannon-ball which, according to Madame de Sevigne, was
charged from all eternity for the hero's death. Berwick
was well deserving of a death in some nobler struggle
than the trumpery quarrel got up by ignoble ambitions
and selfish, grasping policies. He ought to have died in
some really great cause; it was an age of gallant soldiers
— an age, however, that brought out none more gallant
than Berwick. Of him it might fairly be said that " his
mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes." This un
meaning little war — unmeaning in the higher sense — was
also the last campaign of the illustrious Prince Eugene.
Eugene did all that a general could do to hold up against
overwhelming odds, and but for him the victory of the
French would have been complete. The short remainder
of his life was passed in peace.
Walpole gave satisfaction to some of those who disliked
his peace policy by the energy with which he entered into
the settlement of a petty quarrel between Spain and Por
tugal. The dispute turned on a merely personal question
concerning the arrest and imprisonment of some servants
of the Portuguese minister at Madrid. Walpole was ea
gerly appealed to by Portugal, and he took up her cause
promptly. He went so far as to make a formidable "na
val demonstration," as we should now call it, in her favor.
But he was reasonable, and he was determined that Por
tugal too should be reasonable. He recommended her to
show a willingness to come to terms, while at the same time
he brought so much pressure to bear on Spain that Spain
at last consented to refer the whole dispute to the arbitra
ment of England and France. The quarrel was settled,
and a convention was signed at Madrid in July, 1736. It
was a small matter, but it might at such a time have led

36 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxii.
to serious and increasing complications if it had been al
lowed to go too far. Walpole unquestionably showed
great judgment and firmness in his conduct, and he bore
himself with entire impartiality. Spain was in the wrong,
he thought, but not so absolutely or wilfully in the wrong
as to justify Portugal in standing out for too stringent
terms of reparation. At one time it seemed almost prob
able that the English minister v/ould have to employ force
to coerce his own client into terms as well as the other
party to the suit. But Walpole "put his foot down," as
the modern phrase goes, and the danger was averted. Even
Cardinal Fleury, who co-operated with Walpole in bring
ing about the settlement, thought at one time that Wal
pole was too strenuous and was likely to overshoot the
mark. England had troubles enough of her own and at home
about this time to occupy and absorb the attention of the
most devoted minister. To do Walpole justice, it was no
fault of his if the activity of English statesmanship was
compelled to engage itself rather in the composing of
petty quarrels between Spain and Portugal than in any
continuous effort to improve the condition of the popula
tion of these islands. He had at least a full comprehen
sion of the fact that domestic prosperity has a good deal
to do with sound finance, and that sound finance depends
very much upon a sound foreign policy. But the utter
defeat of his excise scheme had put Walpole out of the
mood for making experiments which might prove to be in
advance of the age. He had no ambition to be in advance
of his age. He was not dispirited or disheartened ; he
was not a man to be dispirited or disheartened, but he
was made cautious. He had got into a frame of mind
with regard to financial reform something like that into
which the younger Pitt grew in his later years with re
gard to Catholic emancipation : he knew what ought to
be done, but felt that he was not able to do it, and there
fore shrugged his shoulders and let the world go its way.
Walpole was honestly proud of his peace policy ; more

1736. WALPOLE'S PEACE POLICY. 37
than once he declared with exultation that while there were
fifty thousand men killed in Europe during the struggle
just ended, the field of dead did not contain the body of
a single Englishman. Seldom in the history of England
has English statesmanship had such a tale to tell.

38 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxiii.

CHAPTER XXIIL
EOTAL FAMILY AFFAIES.
George, and his wife Caroline Wilhelmina Dorothea,
had a somewhat large family. Their eldest son, Fred
erick Lewis, Prince of Wales and Duke of Gloucester, was
born on January 20, 1706. Two other sons died, one
the moment after his birth, the other after scarcely a
year of breath. William Augustus, Duke of Cumber
land, was born in 1721. There were five daughters:
Anne, Amelia or Emily, Caroline, Mary, and Louisa.
The Princess Caroline seems to have been by far the
most lovable of the whole family. She inherited much
of her mother's cleverness without her mother's coarse
ness. " Princess Caroline," says Lord Hervey, " had affa
bility without meanness, dignity without pride, cheerful
ness without levity, and prudence without falsehood."
Her figure indeed is one of the bright redeeming visions
in all that chapter of Court history. She stands out
among the rough, coarse, self-seeking men and women
somewhat as Sophy Western does among the personages
of " Tom Jones." Her tender inclination towards Lord
Hervey makes her seem all the more sweet and womanly;
her influence over him is always apparent. He never
speaks of her without seeming to become at once more
manly and gentle, strong and sweet. Of the other prin
cesses, Emily had perhaps the most marked character,
but there would appear to have been little in her to ad
mire. Hervey says of her that she had the least sense of
all the family, except, indeed, her brother Frederick; and
we shall soon come to appreciate the significance of this
comparison.

1736. THE SOVEREIGN OF HANOVER. 39
Frederick, the eldest son, like George the Second him
self, had not been allowed to come to England in his early
days. The young prince was in his twenty-second year
when, on the accession of his father to the throne, he was
brought over to this country and created Prince of Wales.
At that time he was well spoken of generally, although
even then it was known to every one that he was already
addicted to some of the vices of his father and his grand
father. The Court of Hanover was not a good school
for the training of young princes. The sovereign of
Hanover was a positive despot, both politically and social
ly. Everything had to be done to please him, to amuse
him, to conciliate him. The women around the Court
were always vying with each other to see who should
most successfully flatter the King, or, in the King's ab
sence, the Royal Prince. It was intellectually a very
stupid Court. Its pleasures were vulgar, its revels coarse,
its whole atmosphere heavy and sensuous. Frederick was
said, however, to have given some evidence of a more
cultivated taste than might have been expected of a
Hanoverian Crown Prince. He was said to have some
appreciation of letters and music. When he settled in
London he very soon began to follow the example of his
father and his grandfather; he threw his handkerchief to
this lady and to that, and the handkerchief was in certain
cases very thankfully taken up. Some people said that
he entered on this way of life not so much because he
really had a strong predilection for it as because he
thought it would be unbecoming of the position of a
Prince of Wales not to have an adequate number of
women favorites about him; so he maintained what
seemed to him the dignity of his place in society and in
the State.
The prince's character at his first coming over, says
Hervey in bis pleasantest vein, though little more respect
able, seemed much more amiable than, upon his opening
himself further and being better known, it turned out to
be; for, though there appeared nothing in him to be ad-

40 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxiii.
mired, yet there seemed nothing in him to be hated —
neither anything great nor anything vicious; his behav
ior was something that gained one's good wishes though
it gave one no esteem for him. If his best qualities pre
possessed people in his favor, yet they always provoked
contempt for him at the same time; for, though his man
ners were stamped with a good deal of natural or habitual
civility, yet his habit of cajoling everybody, and almost
in an equal degree, made what might have been thought
favors, if more sparingly bestowed, lose all t-heir weight.
" He carried this affectation of general benevolence so far
that he often condescended below the character of a
prince; and, as people attributed this familiarity to popu
lar and not particular motives, so it only lessened their
respect without increasing their good-will, and, instead-of
giving them good impressions of his humanity, only gave
them ill ones of his sincerity. He was indeed as false as
his capacity would allow him to be, and was more capa
ble in that walk than in any other, never having the least
hesitation, from principle or fear of future detection, of
telling any lie that served his present purpose. He had a
much weaker understanding and, if possible, a more ob
stinate temper than his father; that is, more tenacious of
opinions he had once formed, though less capable of ever
forming right ones. Had he had one grain of merit at the
bottom of his heart, one should have had compassion for
him in the situation to which his miserable poor head soon
reduced him, for his case in short was this : he had a
father that abhorred him, a mother that despised him, sis
ters that betrayed him, a brother set up against him, and
a set of servants that neglected him, and were neither of
use nor capable of being of use to him, nor desirous of
being so."
The King's eldest daughter, Anne, was married soon
after Frederick's coming to England. Up to the age of
twenty-four she had remained unmarried, a long time for
a princess to continue a spinster. Many years before, she
had had a good chance of marrying Louis the Fifteenth

l'?36. RESOLVED ON MARRIAGE. 41
of France. George was anxious for the marriage ; the
Due de Bourbon, then minister to Louis, had originated
the idea; Anne was only sixteen years old, and would no
doubt have offered no objection. But the scheme fell
through because when it was well on its way somebody
suddenly remembered, what every one might have thought
of before, that if the English princess became Queen of
France she would be expected to conform to the religion
of the State. Political rather than religious considera
tions made this settle the matter in the English Court.
George and Caroline had certainly no prejudices them
selves in favor of one form of religion over another, or of
any form of religion over none ; but, as they held the
English Crown by virtue of their at least professing to
be Protestants, and as the Pretender would most assur
edly have got that Crown if he had even professed to be
a Protestant, it did not seem possible that they could
countenance a change of Church on the part of their
daughter. Years passed away and no husband was offer
ing himself to Anne. Now at last she was determined
that she would wait no longer. Suddenly the Prince of
Orange was induced to ask her to be his wife. She had
never seen him; he was known to be ugly and deformed;
King George was opposed to the proposition, and told his
daughter that the prince was the ugliest man in Holland.
Anne was determined not to refuse the offer; she said she
would marry him if he were a Dutch baboon. "Very
well," retorted the King, angrily ; " you will find him
baboon enough, I can tell you."
The princess persevered, however; she was as firmly
resolved to get married as Miss Hoyden in Vanbrugh's
" Relapse." The King sent a message to Parliament an
nouncing the approaching marriage of his daughter to the
Prince of Orange, and graciously intimating that he ex
pected the House of Commons to help hitn to give the
princess a marriage-portion. The loyal Commons under
took to find eighty thousand pounds, although George was
surely rich enough to have paid his daughter's dowry out

42 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxiii.
of his own pocket. George, however, had not the remotest
notion of doing anything of the kind. The Bill was run
through the House of Commons in a curious sort of way,
the vote for the dowry being thrown in with a little bun
dle of miscellaneous votes, as if the House of Commons
were rather anxious to keep it out of public sight, as in
deed they probably were. The bridegroom came to Eng
land in November, 1732, and began his career in this
country by falling very ill. It took him months to recov
er, and it was not until March 24, 1733, that the marriage
was celebrated. It must have been admitted by Anne
that her father had not misrepresented the personal ap
pearance of the Prince of Orange. The Queen shed
abundance of tears at the sight of the bridegroom, and yet
could not help sometimes bursting into a fit of laughter
at his oddity and ugliness. Anne bore her awkward po
sition with a sort of stolid composure which was almost
dignity. To add to the other unsatisfactory conditions of
the marriage, the prophets of evil began to point to the
ominous conjuncture of names — an English princess mar
ried to a Prince of Orange. When this happened last,
what followed ? The expulsion of the father-in-law by
the son-in-law. Go to, then !
On the same day on which the House of Commons
voted the grant of the princess's dowry, a memorial from
the council and representatives of the colony or province
of Massachusetts Bay, in New England, was presented
and read from the table. The memorial set forth that the
province was placed under conditions of difficulty and dis
tress owing to a royal instruction given to the governor
of the province restraining the emission of its bills of
credit and restricting the disposal of its public money.
The memorial,, which seems to have been couched in the
most proper and becoming language, prayed that the
House would allow the agent for the province to be heard
at the bar, and that the House, if satisfied of the justice
of the request, would use its influence with the King in
order that he might be graciously pleased to withdraw

1736. MASSACHUSETTS BAY RETALIATES. 43
the instructions as contrary to the rights of the charter
of Massachusetts Bay, and tending in their nature to dis
tress if not to ruin the province. The House of Commons
treated this petition with the most sovereign contempt.
After a very short discussion, if it could even be called a
discussion, the House passed a resolution declaring the
complaint "frivolous and groundless, a high insult upon
his Majesty's Government, and tending to shake off the
dependency of the said colony upon this kingdom, to
which by law and right they are and ought to be sub
ject." The petition was therefore rejected. To the short
summary of this piece of business contained in the parlia
mentary debates the comment is quietly added, " We
shall leave to future ages to make remarks upon this reso
lution, but it seems not much to encourage complaints to
Parliament from any of our colonies in the West Indies."
Not many ages, not many years even, had to pass before
emphatic comment on such a mode of dealing with the
complaints of the American colonies was made by the
American colonists themselves. Massachusetts Bay took
sterner measures next time to make her voice heard and
get her wrongs redressed. Just twenty years after the
insulting and contemptuous rejection of the petition of
Massachusetts Bay, the people of Boston spilled the stores
of tea into Boston harbor, and two years later still "tho
embattled farmer," as Emerson calls him, stood up to the
British troops at Lexington, in Massachusetts, and_'ffiJOH-
thejjattle. On Wednesday, May 30th, the second reading of the Bill
for the princess's dowry came on in the House of Lords.
Several of the peers complained warmly of the manner in
which the grant to the princess had been stuck into a
general measure disposing of various sums of money. It
was a Bill of items. There was a sum of £500,000 for the
current service of the year. There was £10,000 by way
of a charity "for those distressed persons who are to
transport themselves to the colony of Georgia." There
was a vote for the repairing of an old church, and there

44 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxin.
were other votes of much the same kind ; and amid them
came the item for the dowry of the Royal Princess. The
Earl of Winchelsea complained of this strange method of
huddling things together, and declared it highly unbe
coming to see the grant made " in such a hotch-potch Bill
— a Bill which really seems to be the sweepings of the
other House." The Earl of Crawford declared it a most
indecent thing to provide the marriage - portion of the
Princess Royal of England in such a manner; " it is most
disrespectful to the royal family." The Duke of New
castle could only say in defence of the course taken by
the Government that he saw nothing disrespectful or in
convenient in the manner of presenting the vote. Indeed,
he went on to argue, or rather to assert, for he did not at
tempt to argue, that it was the only way by which such a
provision could have been made. It could not well have
been done by a particular BUI, he said, because the mar
riage was not as yet fully concluded. But the resolution
of the House of Commons was that out of the money then
remaining in the receipt of the Exchequer arisen by the sale
of the lands in the island of St. Christopher's his Majesty
be enabled to apply the sum of £80,000 for the marriage-
portion of the Princess Royal. What possible difficulty
there could be about the presenting of that resolution in
the form of a separate Bill, or how such a form of pres
entation could have been affected by the fact that the
marriage had not yet actually been concluded, only a
brain like that of the Duke of Newcastle could settle. Of
course the Bill was passed; each noble lord who criti
cised it was louder than the other in declaring that he
had not the slightest notion of opposing it. " I am so
fond," said the Earl of Winchelsea, "of enabling his
Majesty to provide a sufficient marriage-portion for the
Princess Royal that I will not oppose this Bill." There
was much excuse for being fond of providing his Majesty
in this instance, seeing that the money was not to be
found by the tax-payers. Probably the true reason why
the grant was asked in a manner which would not be

1736. A PROJECTED DOUBLE ALLIANCE. 45
thought endurable in our days, was that the Government
well knew the King himself cared as little about the mar
riage as the people did, and were of opinion that the more
the grant was huddled up the better.
We get one or two notes about this time that seem to
have a forecast of later days in them. An explosion of
some kind takes place in Westminster Hall while all the
courts of justice were sitting. No great harm seems to
have been done, but the event naturally startled people,
and was instantly regarded as evidence of a Jacobite plot
to assassinate somebody; it was not very clear who was
the particular object of hatred. Walpole wrote to his
brother, telling him of the explosion, and adding, " There
is no reason to doubt that the whole thing was projected
and executed by a set of low Jacobites who talked of set
ting fire to the gallery built for the marriage of the Prin
cess Royal " by means of " a preparation which they call
phosphorus, that takes fire by the air." About the same
time, too, we hear of an outbreak of anti-Irish riots in
Shoreditch and other parts of the east end of London.
The " cry and complaint " of the anti-Irish was, as Wal
pole described the matter, that they were underworked
and starved by Irishmen. Numbers of Irishmen, it would
seem, were begiiming to come over to this country, not
merely to labor in harvesting in the rural districts, as
they had long been accustomed to do, but undertaking
work of all kinds at lower wages than English workmen
were accustomed to receive. "The cry is, Down with
the Irish," Walpole says ; and Dr. Sheridan, Swift's cor
respondent, proclaiming in terms of humorous exaggera
tion his desire to get out of Cavan, protests that, failing
all other means of relief, "I will try England, where the
predominant phrase is, Down with the Irish."
George had at one time set his heart upon a double al
liance between his family and that of King Frederick
William of Prussia. The desire of George was that his
eldest son, Frederick, should marry the eldest daughter of
the Prussian King, and that tho Prussian King's eldest

46 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. cii. xxiii.
son should marry George's second daughter. The nego
tiation, however, came to nothing. The King of Prussia
was prevailed upon to make objections to it by those
around him who feared that he might be brought too
much under the influence of England; and, indeed, it is
said that he himself became a little afraid of some pos
sible interference with his ways by an English daughter-
in-law. The only interest the project has now is that it
put the two kings into bad humor with each other. The
bad humor was constantly renewed by the quarrels aris
ing out of the King of Prussia's rough, imperious way of
sending recruiting parties into Hanover to cajole or carry
off gigantic recruits for his big battalions. So unkingly
did the disputation at last become that George actually
sent a challenge to Frederick William, and Frederick
William accepted it. A place was arranged where the roy
al duellists, each crossing his own frontier for the purpose,
were to meet in combat. The wise and persistent oppo
sition of a Prussian statesman prevailed upon Frederick
to give up the idea, and George too suffered himself to be
talked into something like reason. It is almost a 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 both the combatants should not have been
killed. The King of Prussia and the King of England
were, it may safely be said, the two most coarse and
brutal sovereigns of the civilized world at the time. The
King of Prussia was more cruel in his coarseness than
tho King of England. The King of England was more
indecent in his coarseness than the King of Prussia. For
all their royal rank, it must be owned that they were
arcades ambo — that is, according to Byron's translation,
"blackguards both."
The fight, however, did not come off, and George had
still to find a wife for his eldest son. She was found in
the person of the Princess Augusta, sister of the Duke of
Saxe-Gotha. The duke gave his consent; the princess
offered no opposition, and indeed would not have been

1736. FOLLOWING THE WAYS OF HIS ANCESTORS. 47
much listened to if she had had any opposition to offer.
King George wished his son to get married to anybody
rather than remain longer unmarried; and the prince,
who had tried to make a runaway match with a young
English lady before this time, appeared to be absolutely
indifferent on the subject. So the Princess Augusta was
brought over to Greenwich, and thence to London, and
on April 28, 1736, the marriage took place. The princess
seems to have been a very amiable, accomplished, and far
from unattractive young woman. The Prince of Wales
grew to be very fond of her, and to be happy in the home
she made him. He continued, of course, to follow the
ways of his father and his grandfather, and had his mis
tresses as well as his wife. The Prince of Wales would
probably have thought he was not acting properly the
part of royalty if he had been contented with the com
panionship of one woman, and that woman his wife. His
wife had to put up with the palace manners of the period.
Frederick had at one time been noted for his dutiful ways
to his mother; but more lately the mother and son had
become hopelessly estranged. George hated Frederick,
and the hatred of the mother for the son seemed quite as
strong as that of the father.
A courtly chronicler and genealogist, writing at a pe
riod a little later, describes George the Second as in the
height of glory a just and merciful prince, but dryly adds,
"He resembles his father in his too great attachment to
the electoral dominions." So indeed he did. The whole
policy of his reign was affected or controlled by his love
for Hanover, or, at least, his love for his own interest in
Hanover. He had no patriotic or unselfish attachment to
the land of his ancestry and his birth; he was incapable
of feeling any such exalted emotion. But the electoral
dominions, which were his property, he clung to with ar
dor, and Hanover was the garden of the pleasures he en
joyed most highly. He never could understand English
ways. He once scolded an English nobleman, the Duke
of Grafton, for his delight in the hunting field. It was a

48 A HISTORY OF THE POUR GEORGES. en. xxm.
pretty occupation, the King said, for a man of the duke's
years, and of his rank, to spend so much of his time in
tormenting a poor fox, that was generally a much better
beast than any of those that pursued him; for the fox
hurts no other animal but for his subsistence, while the
brutes who hurt the fox did it only for the pleasure they
took in hurting. One might admire such a declaration if
it could be thought to come from a too refined and sensi
tive humanity. An eccentric, but undoubtedly benevo
lent, member of the House of Commons declared, in a
speech made in that House some years ago, that he only
once joined in a hunt, and then it was only in the interest
of the fox. George had no such feeling; he simply could
not understand the tastes or the sports of English country
life. George came back from an expedition to Hanover in a
very bad humor. He hated everything in England; he
loved everything in Hanover. It was with the uttermost
reluctance that he dragged himself back from the place
of his amusements and his most cherished amours. He
had lately found in Hanover a new object of adoration.
This was a Madame Walmoden, a fashionable young mar
ried woman, with whom George had fallen headlong into
love. He wrote home to his wife, telling her of his admi
ration for Madame Walmoden, and describing with some
minuteness the lady's various charms of person. He in
duced Madame Walmoden — probably no great persuasion
was needed — to leave her husband and become the mis
tress of a king. George, it is said, paid down the not
very extravagant sum of a thousand dollars to make
things pleasant all round. During his stay in Hanover he
and his new companion behaved quite like a high-Dutch
Antony and Cleopatra. They had revels and orgies of all
kinds in the midst of a crowd of companions as refined
and intellectual as themselves. George had paintings
made of some of these scenes, with portrait likenesses of
those who took a leading part in them, and these paint
ings he brought home to England, and was accustomed

1736. TO HANOVER AT ALL HAZARDS. 49
to exhibit and explain to the Queen, or to anybody else
who happened to be in the way. But he did not as yet
venture to bring Madame Walmoden to England; and his
having to part with her threw him into a very bad tem
per. The curious reader will find an amusing, but at the
same time very painful, account of the manner in which
George vented his temper by snubbing his children and
insulting his wife. The Queen bore it all with her wonted
patience. George had made a promise to get back to
Hanover very soon to see his beloved Madame Walmo
den. Walpole restrained him for a long time, which
made the King more and more angry. Once, when tho
Queen was urging him to be a little more considerate in
his dealings with some of the bishops, the King of Eng
land, Defender of the Faith, told her he was sick of all
that foolish stuff, and added, " I wish with all my heart
that the devil may take all your bishops, and the devil
take your minister, and the devil take the Parliament, and
the devil take the whole island, provided I can get out of
it and go to Hanover." Caroline herself could bo sharp
enough in her tone with the bishops sometimes, but the
manners of the King 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. The King did go, however, and
left the Queen to act as regent of the kingdom during his
absence. This time George was to be absent from his
wife on his birthday, and the poor Queen took this bitter
ly to heart. She consulted Walpole, and Walpole was
frank, although on this particular occasion he does not
seem to have been coarse. He reminded the Queen that
she was ceasing to be young and attractive, and, as it
was necessary that she must keep a hold over the King's
regard, he strongly urged her to write to George and ask
him to bring Madame Walmoden over to England with
him. Even this the Queen, after some moments of ago
nized mental struggle, consented to do. She wrote to the
VOL. II. — 3

60 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxm.
King, and she began to make preparations for the suitable
reception of the new sultana. She carried her compla
cency so far as even to say that she would be willing to
take Madame Walmoden into her own service. Even
Walpole thought this was carrying humbleness too far.
"Why not?" poor Caroline asked; was not Lady Suffolk,
a former mistress of the King, in the Queen's employ
ment? Walpole pointed out, with the worldly good-
sense which belonged to him, that public opinion would
draw a great distinction between the scandal of the
King's making one of the Queen's servants his mistress
and the Queen's taking one of the King's mistresses into
her service.
The quarrels between the Prince of Wales and the
other members of the royal family kept on increasing in
virulence. The prince surrounded himself with the Pa
triots, and indeed openly put himself at their head. The
King and Queen would look at no one who was seen in
the companionship of the prince. The Queen is believed
to have at one time cherished some schemes for separat
ing the Electorate of Hanover from the English Crown,
in order that Hanover might be given to her second son.
With the outer public the Prince of Wales seems to have
been popular in a certain sense, perhaps for no other rea
son than because he was the Prince of Wales and not the
King. When he went to one of the theatres he was loud
ly cheered, and he took the applause with the gratified
complacency of one who knows he is receiving nothing
that he has not well deserved. He would appear to have
been continually posturing and attitudinizing as the young
favorite of the people. The truth 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
side of the man who might at least turn out to be bet
ter than his father.
Even the seraphic realms of music were invaded by the
dispute between the adherents of the King and the adher
ents of tho prince. The King and Queen were supporters

1736. HANDELISTS AND ANTI-HANDELISTS. 51
of Handel, the prince was against the great composer.
The prince in the first instance declared against Handel
because his sister Anne, the Princess of Orange, was one
of Handel's worshippers, therefore a great number of the
nobility who sided with the prince set up, or at least
supported, a rival opera-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 this sub
ject as their son and daughter, though they had the pru
dence to disguise it, or to endeavor to disguise it, a little
more. They were both Handelists, "and sat freezing
constantly at his empty Haymarket opera, whilst the
prince, with all the chief of the nobilitj'-, went as con
stantly to that of Lincoln's Inn Fields." " The affair,"
Hervey adds, " grew as serious as that of the Greens and
the Blues under Justinian at Constantinople; an anti-
Handelist was looked upon as an anti-courtier, and vot
ing against the Court in Parliament was hardly a less re
missible or more venial sin than speaking against Handel
or going to the Lincoln's Inn Fields Opera." Hervey
was a man of some culture and some taste; it is curious
to observe how little he thought of tho greatest musician
of his time, one of the very greatest musicians of all time.
The London public evidently could not have been gifted
with very high musical perception just then. Indeed,
later on, when Handel brought out his " Messiah," it was
met with so cold and blank a reception in London that
the composer began to despair of the English public
ever appreciating his greatest efforts. He made up his
mind to try his " Messiah " in Ireland. He went to Dub
lin, and there found a splendid reception for his master
piece, and he remained there until the echo of his great
success had made itself heard in England, and he then
came back and found his welcome in London. This, how
ever, is anticipating. At present we are only concerned
with the fact, as illustrating the existing condition of
things in London, that to be an admirer of Handel was to
bo an enemy of the Prince of Wales, and not to be an

52 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxm.
admirer of Handel was to be an enemy of the King.
The feud ran so high that the Princess Royal said she
expected in a little while to see half the House of
Lords playing in the orchestra in their robes and coro
nets. She herself quarrelled with the Lord Chamber
lain for preserving his usual neutrality on this occasion,
and she spoke of Lord Delaware, who was one of the
chief managers against Handel, "with as much spleen
as if he had been at the head of the Dutch faction
who opposed the making her husband Stadtholder." It
seems needless to say that George himself had no artistic
appreciation of Handel. He subscribed 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 faction of fiddlers a very honorable occupa
tion for people of quality, or the ruin of one poor fellow
so generous or so good-natured a scheme as to do much
honor to the undertakers, whether they succeeded in it or
not ; but, the better they succeeded in it, the more he
thought they would have reason to be ashamed of it."
There were some gleams of manhood shining through
George still, and he could appreciate fair play although
he could not quite appreciate Handel. For the ruin of
one poor fellow! The poor fellow was Handel. The fac
tion of fiddlers that could ruin that poor fellow had not
been found in the world, even if we were to include Nero
himself among the number. One poor fellow! We won
der how many sovereigns living in George's time the
world could have spared without a pang of regret if by
the sacrifice it could secure for men's ennobling delight
the immortal music of Handel.
On April 29, 1736, an event of importance took place
in the House of Commons ; the event was a maiden
speech, the speech was the opening of a great career.
The orator was a young man, only in his twenty-eighth
year, who had just been elected for the borough of Old
Sarnm. The new member was a young officer of dra-

1736. WILLIAM PITT. 53
goons, and his name was William Pitt. Pitt attached
himself at once to the fortunes of the Patriot, or country,
party, and was very soon regarded as the most promising
of Pulteney's young recruits. His maiden speech was
spoken of and written of by his friends as a splendid suc
cess, as worthy of the greatest orator of any age. Prob
ably the stately presence, the magnificent voice, and the
superb declamation of the young orator may account for
much of the effect which his first effort created, for in the
report of the speech, such as it has come down to us,
there is little to justify so much enthusiasm ; but that
the maiden speech was a signal success is beyond all
doubt. A study of the history of the House of Commons
will, however, make it clear, that there is little guarantee,
little omen even, for the future success of a speaker in
the welcome given to his maiden speech. Over and over
again has some new member delighted and thrilled the
House of Commons by his maiden speech, and never
delighted it or thrilled it any more. Over and over again
has a new member failed in his maiden speech, failed
utterly and ludicrously, and turned out afterwards to
be one of the greatest debaters in Parliament. Over
and over again has a man delivered his maiden speech
without creating the slightest impression of any kind,
good or bad, so that when he sits down it is, as Mr.
Disraeli put it, hardly certain whether he has lost his
Parliamentary virginity or not; and a little later on
the same man has the whole House trembling with anx
iety and expectation when he rises to take part in a
great debate. On the whole, it is probable that the chances
of the future are rather in favor of the man who fails in
his maiden speech. At all events, there is as little reason
to assume that a man is about to be a success in the
House of Commons because he has made a successful
maiden speech as there would be to assume that a man is
to be a great poet because he has written a college prize
poem. ¦ The friends of young William Pitt, however, were
well justified in their expectations ; and the magic of

54 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxiii.
presence, voice, and action, which led to an exaggerated
estimate of the merits of the speech, threw the same
charm over the whole of Pitt's great career as an orator
in the House of Commons.
Pitt came of a good family. His grandfather was the
Governor of Madras to whom Mary Wortley Montagu
more than once alludes: the "Governor Pitt" who was
more famous in his diamonds than in himself, and whose
most famous brilliant, the Pitt diamond, was bought by
the Regent Duke of Orleans to adorn the crown of France.
William Pitt was a younger son, and was but poorly pro
vided for. A cornet's commission was obtained for him.
The family had the ownership of some parliamentary bor
oughs, according to the fashion of those days and of
days much later still. At the general election of 1734
William Pitt's elder brother Thomas was elected for two
constituencies, Okehampton and Old Sarum. When Par
liament met, and the double return was made known to
it,. Thomas Pitt decided on taking his seat for Okehamp
ton, and William Pitt was elected to serve in Parliament
for Old Sarum. He soon began to be conspicuous among
the young men — the "boy brigade," who cheered and
supported Pulteney. William Pitt was from almost his
childhood tortured with hereditary gout, but he had fine
animal spirits for all that, and he appears to have felt
from the first a genuine delight in the vivid struggles of
the House of Commons. He began to outdo Pulteney in
the vehemence and extravagance of his attacks on the
policy and the personal character of the ministers. His
principle apparently was that whatever Walpole did must
ipso facto be wrong, and not merely wrong, but even base
and criminal. Walpole was never very scrupulous about
inflicting an injury on an enemy, especially if the enemy
was likely to be formidable. He deprived William Pitt
of his commission in the army. Thereupon Pitt was
made Groom of the Bedchamber to the Prince of Wales.
When the address was presented to the King on the oc
casion of the prince's marriage with the Princess of Saxe-

1736. PITT— PULTENEY. 55
Gotha, it was Pulteney, leader of the Opposition, and not
Walpole, the head of the Government, who moved its
adoption. It was in this debate that William Pitt deliv
ered that maiden speech from which so much was ex
pected, and which was followed by so many great ora
tions and such a commanding career. As yet, however,
William Pitt is only the enthusiastic young follower of
Pulteney, whom men compare with, or prefer to, other
enthusiastic young followers of Pulteney. Even those
who most loudly cried up his maiden speech could have
had little expectation of what the maturity of that career
was to bring.

66 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE POETEOUS EIOTS.
A GOOD deal of disturbance and tumult was going on
in various parts of the provinces. Some of our readers
have probably not forgotten the riots which took place in
the early part of the present reign, in consequence of the
objection to the turnpike gate system, and in which the
rioters took the name of "Rebecca and her daughters."
Riots almost precisely similar in origin and character, but
much more extensive and serious, were going on in the
western counties during the earlier years of George the
Second's reign. The rioting began as early as 1730, and
kept breaking out here and there for some years. The
rioters assembled in various places in gangs of about a
hundred. Like "Rebecca and her daughters," they were
usually dressed in women's clothes ; they had their faces
blackened ; they were armed with guns and swords,
and carried axes, with which to hew down the obnoxious
turnpike gates. The county magistrates, with the force
at their disposal, were unable at one time to make any
head against the rioters. The turnpike gates were un
doubtedly a serious grievance, and at that time there was
hardly any idea of dealing with a grievance but by the
simple firocess of imprisoning, suppressing, or punishing
those who protested too loudly against it.
The Gin riots were another serious disturbance to social
order. Gin-drinking had grown to such a height among
the middle classes in cities that reformers of all kinds
took alarm at it. A Bill was brought into Parliament by
Sir Joseph Jekyll, the Master of the Rolls, in 1736, for
the purpose of prohibiting the sale of gin, pr at least lay
ing so heavy a duty on it as to put it altogether out of

1736. THE GIN RIOTS. 67
the reach of the poor, and absolutely prohibiting its sale
in small quantities. The Bill was not a ministerial meas
ure, and indeed Walpole seems to have given it but a
cool and half-hearted approval, and the Patriots vehe
mently opposed it as an unconstitutional interference with
individual habits and individual rights. The Bill, how
ever, passed through Parliament and was to come into
operation on the 29th of the following September. At
first it appears to have created but little popular excite
ment; but as the time drew near when the Act was to
come into operation, and the poorer classes saw them
selves face to face with the hour that was to cut them off
from their favorite drink, a sudden discontent flashed out
in the form of wide-spread riot. Only the most ener
getic action on the part of the authorities prevented the
discontent 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 allow of its being made a
reality. Gin was every day sold under various names,
and, indeed, it was publicly sold in many shops under its
own name. The Gin Act called into existence an odious
crew of common informers who used to entrap people into
the selling and drinking of gin in order to obtain their
share of the penalty, or, perhaps, in some cases to satisfy
a personal spleen. The mob hated the common informers
as bitterly as a well-dressed crowd at a race-course in our
own time hates a " welsher." When the informer was got
hold of by his enemies he was usually treated very much
after the fashion in which the welsher is handled to-day.
It would be needless to say that the Gin Act and the
agitation concerning it called also into existence a whole
literature of pamphlets, ballads, libels, and lampoons.
The agitation ran its course during some two years, more
than once threatened to involve the country in serious
disturbance, and died out at last when the legislation
which had caused so much tumult was quietly allowed to
become a dead letter.
3*

68 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxrv.
Suddenly Edinburgh became the theatre of a series of
dramatic events which made her, for the moment, the
centre of interest to the political world. It is, perhaps, a
sufficient proof of the delicate condition of the relations
between the two countries that the arrest of two smug
glers came within measurable distance of awaking civil
war. These two smugglers, Wilson and Robertson, be
ing 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 gladly seized, of plunging into the
crowd of the dispersing congregation, and vanishing into
space. The Edinburgh magistrates, alarmed at the escape,
offended by the display of popular sympathy with the es
caped smuggler, and fearing, not, as it was said, without
good cause, that an attempt would be made to rescue the
single-minded and not unheroic Wilson, resolved to take
all possible precautions to insure the carrying out of the
sentence of the law. To do this the more effectively they
ordered out nearly the whole of their own city guard un
der the command of Captain Porteous, and in doing so
made one of the greatest mistakes recorded in their an
nals. Captain John Porteous was in his way and within his
sphere a remarkable man. He belonged to that large
crew of daring, resolute, and unscrupulous adventurers
who, under happy conditions, become famous free com
panions, are great in guerilla wars, make excellent ex
plorers, and even found colonies and lay the foundations
of States, but who, under less auspicious stars, are only a
terror to the peaceable and an example to the law-abid
ing. To the romancist, to the dramatist, the character of
such a man as John Porteous is intensely attractive; even
in the graver ways of history he claims the attention im
peratively, and stands forward with a decisive distinct
ness that lends to him an importance beyond his deserts.

1736. JOHN PORTEOUS. 59
His life had been from the beginning daring, desperate,
and reckless. He was the son of a very respectable Ed
inburgh citizen, who was also a very respectable tailor,
and whose harmless ambition it was to make the wild slip
of his blood a respectable tailor in his turn. Never was
the saying "Like father, like son" more astonishingly be
lied. Young John Porteous would have nothing to do
with the tailor's trade. He was dissipated, he was devil-
may-care; there was nothing better to be done with him
than to ship him abroad into the military service of some
foreign State, the facile resource in those days for getting
rid of the turbulent and the troublesome. John Porteous
went into foreign service; he entered the corps 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 Porte
ous back to Edinburgh. Here his military training served
the city in good stead during the Jacobite rising of 1715.
He disciplined the city guard and got his commission as
its captain. But, if wanderings and foreign service had
turned the tailor's son into a stout soldier, they had in no
degree mended his morality or bettered his reputation.
Edinburgh citizenship has always been commended for
keeping a strict eye to the respectabilities, and the stand
ard of public and private decorum was held puritanically
high in the middle of the last century; but even in the
most loose-lived of European cities, even in the frankest
freedom of barracks or of camp, John Porteous, if his
reputation did not belie him, might have been expected
to hold his own among the profligate and the brutal. It
seems to be uncertain whether he was the more remarka
ble for his savage temper or for the dissolute disorder of
his life. Naturally enough, perhaps in obedience to that
law of contrast which seems so often to preside over the
destinies of such men, his appearance did not jump with
his nature. We read that he was of somewhat portly
habit, by no means tall; that his face was rather benign
than otherwise, and that his eyes suggested a sleepy mild-

60 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. on. xxiv.
ness. Such as he was, he had lived a queer, wild life,
but its queerest and its wildest scenes were now to come
in swift succession before the end.
The city guard, of which Porteous was the commander,
were scarcely more popular than their chief. Ferguson,
the luckless tavern-haunting poet, the Fran9ois Villon of
Edinburgh, the singer whose genius some critics believe
to be somewhat unfairly overshadowed by the greater
fame of Burns, has branded them to succeeding genera
tions as "black banditti." They were some 120 in num
ber; they were composed of veteran soldiers, chiefly High
landers; they were considered by such of the Edinburgh
population as often came into conflict with them to be es
pecially ferocious in their fashion of preserving civic or
der. Captain John Porteous seems to have found them
men after his own heart, to have been very proud of
them, and to have considered that they and he together
were equal to coping with any emergency that a disturbed
Edinburgh might present. He was therefore deeply af
fronted when the magistrates, after according to him and
his men the duty of guarding the scaffold on which Wil
son was to die, considered it necessary for the further
preservation of peace and the overawing of any possible
attempt at rescue to order a regiment of Welsh fusileers
to be drawn up in the principal street of the city. Wrath
at the escape of Robertson, and indignation at the slight
which he conceived to be put upon him and his men, act
ing upon his old hatred for his enemies, the Edinburgh
mob, seems to have whipped the fierce temper of Porte
ous into wholly ungovernable fury. The execution took
place under peculiarly painful conditions. Porteous in
sisted on inflicting needless torture upon the unhappy
Wilson by forcing upon his wrists a pair of handcuffs
that were much too small for the purpose. When Wilson
remonstrated, and urged that the pain distracted his
thoughts from those spiritual reflections which were now
so peremptory, Porteous is said to have replied with wan
ton ruffianism that such reflections would matter very lit-

1736. SCENE AT AN EXECUTION. 61
tie, since Wilson would so soon be dead. The prisoner is
reported to have answered with a kind of prophetic dig
nity that his tormentor did not know how soon he might
in his turn have to ask for himself the mercy which he
now refused to a fellow-being. With these words, almost
the latest on his lips, the smuggler went to his death and
met it with a decent courage.
While the execution took place no signs were shown on
the part of the great crowd that had assembled of any
desire to rescue the prisoner. But the sentence had hard
ly been carried out when the temper of the mob appeared
to change. Stones were thrown, angry cries were raised,
and the mob, as if animated by a common purpose, began
to press around the scaffold. One man leaped upon the
gibbet and cut the rope by which the body was sus
pended; others gathered round as if to carry off the body.
Then it is asserted that Porteous completely lost his head.
The passion that had been swaying him all day entirely
overmastered him. He is said to have snatched a musket
from the hands of the soldier nearest to him, to have
yelled to his men to fire, and to have shown the example by
pointing his own piece and shooting one of the crowd dead.
Whether Porteous gave the order or not, it is certain
that the attack upon the gibbet was followed by a loose
fire from the guard which killed some six or seven per
sons and wounded many others. Then Porteous made an
attempt to withdraw his men, and as they were moving
up the High Street the now infuriated mob again attack
ed, and again the guards fired upon the people, and again
men were killed and wounded. Thus, as it were, fight
ing his way, Porteous got his men to their guard-house.
The popular indignation was so great that the Edin
burgh authorities put Porteous upon his trial. Porteous
defended himself vigorously, denied that he had ever
given an order to fire, denied that he had ever fired his
piece, proved that he had exhibited his piece to the mag
istrates immediately after the occurrence unused and still
loaded. This defence was met by the counter-assertion

62 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxit.
that the weapon Porteous had used was not his own, but
one seized from the hands of a soldier. A large number
of persons gave evidence that they heard Porteous give
the order to 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 Porteous was found guilty and
sentenced to death.
The sentence was received with practically general ap
proval in Edinburgh, but with very different feelings
in London. The Queen, who was acting as regent in
the absence of George II., felt especially strongly upon
the subject. Lamentable as the violence of Captain
Porteous had been, it was still urged that he had acted in
obedience to a sense of duty. It was feared, too, that the
sufficiently lawless attitude of the lower population of Ed
inburgh towards authority would be gravely and danger
ously intensified if so signal an example were to be made
of an officer whose offence was only committed under
conditions of grave provocation and in the face of an out
break which might well appear to resemble riot. The
Government in London came to the conclusion that it
would not do to hang John Porteous, and a message was
sent by the Duke of Newcastle notifying her Majesty's
pleasure that Porteous should have a reprieve for a period
of six weeks — a preliminary step to the consequent com
mutation of the death sentence.
But, if the Government in London proposed to reprieve
Porteous, the wild democracy of Edinburgh were not
willing to lose their vengeance so lightly. The deaths
caused by the discharge of the pieces of Porteous's men
had aroused the most passionate resentment in Edin
burgh. Men of all classes, those directly affected by the
deaths of friends and relatives, and those who looked
upon the quarrel from an attitude of unconcerned justice,
alike agreed in regarding Porteous's sentence as righteous
and deserved; now, alike, they agreed in resenting the in
terference of the Queen, and the apparently inevitable
escape of Porteous from the consequences of his crime.

1736. ATTACKING THE TOLBOOTH. 63
What followed fills one of the most dramatic of all the
many dramatic pages in the history of Edinburgh town.
John Porteous was imprisoned in the Tolbooth, in the
very thick of the city. Some of his friends, stirred by
fears which if va^ue were not imaginary, urged him to
petition to the authorities to be removed to the Castle,
perched safe aloft upon its rock. But Porteous, filled
with a false security, and rejoicing in the reprieve that
had arrived from London, took no heed of the warnings.
Perhaps, like the Duke of Guise on something of a like
occasion, he would, if warned that there was any thought
of taking his life, have answered, secure in the sanctity of
the old Tolbooth, in the historic words, " They would not
dare." Porteous remained in the old Tolbooth; he gave
an entertainment in honor of his reprieve to certain privi
leged friends; he was actually at supper, with the wine
going round and round, and his apartment noisy with
talk and laughter, when the jailer entered the room with
a pale face and a terrible tale. Half Edinburgh was out
side the Tolbooth, armed and furious, their one demand
for the person of Porteous, their one cry for his life.
The tale was strange enough to seem incredible even
to minds more sober than those of Porteous and his com
panions, but it was perfectly true. Edinburgh had risen
in the most mysterious way. From all parts of the town
bands of men had come together; the guard-house of the
city guard had been seized upon, the guards disarmed,
and their weapons distributed among the conspirators.
In a very short space of time Edinburgh was in the hands
of an armed and determined mob; the magistrates, who
attempted to enforce their authority, were powerless, and
the crowd, with a unanimity which showed how well their
plans had been preconcerted, directed all their energies to
effecting an entrance into the Tolbooth. This proved at
first exceedingly difficult. The great gate seemed to defy
the force of all the sledge-hammer strokes that could be
rained against it, and its warders were obstinate alike to
the demands and the threats of the besiegers. But some

64 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxiv.
one in the ranks of the besiegers suggested fire, and
through fire the Tolbooth fell. Fagots were piled out
side the great gate and lighted, and the bonfire was as
siduously fed until at last the great gate was consumed
and the rioters rushed to their purpose over the glowing
embers and through the flying sparks.
They found Porteous in his apartment, deserted by his
companions, dizzy with the fumes of wines, and helpless
with the horror of the doom that menaced him. He
might perhaps have escaped when the first alarm was
sounded, but, as he lost his head before through passion, so
he seems to have lost it again now through dismay. The
poor wretch had indeed at the last moment, when it was
too late, sought refuge in the chimney of his room; his
flight was stopped by a grating a little way up; to this
grating he clung, and from this grating he was plucked
away by his assailants. In a few moments he was carried
into the open air, was borne, the bewildered, despairing,
struggling centre of all that armed and merciless mass,
swiftly towards the Netherbow. In the midst of the
blazing torches, the Lochaber axes, the guns and naked
swords, that hemmed him in, the helpless, hopeless victim
was swept along. A rope was readily found, but a gib
bet was not forthcoming; a byer's pole served at the
need. Within a little while after the forcing of the Tol
booth gate, Porteous was hanged and dead, and his wild
judges were striking at his lifeless body with their weap
ons. It is said, and we may well believe it, that Porteous
died, when he found that he had to die, bravely enough,
as became a soldier. In that wild, mad life of his he had
faced many perils, and if he pleaded for his life with his
self -ordained executioners while there was any chance
that pleading might prevail, it is likely enough that he
accepted the inevitable with composure. Wilson was
avenged; the victims of the fusillade of the city guard
had been atoned for by blood, and Edinburgh had as
serted with a ferocity all her own that England's will
was not her will, and England's law not her law.

1736. A "RESPECTABLE" MOB. 65
The peculiar characteristics of the crowd that battered
down the Tolbooth gate and carried off Porteous to his
death in the Grassmarket were its orderliness, its single
ness of purpose, and the curious " respectability," if such
a term may be employed, of its composition. Its single
ness of purpose and its orderliness were alike exemplified
by the way in which it went about its grim business and
by the absolute absence of all riot or pillage of any kind,
or indeed of any sort of violence beyond that essential to
the carrying out of its intent. No peaceable persons were
molested; no buildings other than the Tolbooth were bro
ken into ; the very rope which hanged the unhappy
Porteous was immediately and amply paid for. No one
except the central victim of the conspiracy received harm
at the hands of the mob. The " respectability " of a large
proportion of the mob and of those controlling its ac
tions was afterwards vouched for in many ways. Ladies
told tales of their carriages being stopped by disguised
individuals of courteous bearing and marked politeness,
who with the most amiable apologies turned their horses'
heads from the scene of action. It was afterwards re
ported and commonly believed that the Edinburgh au
thorities knew more about the purpose of the self-ap
pointed executions than was consonant with a due regard
for law and order. In fact, if the passions of the mob
were aroused they were undoubtedly organized, directed,
and held in check by those who knew well how to com
mand, and to give to an illegal act tho gravity and de
corum of legality.
News travelled slowly in those days. There were no
telegrams, no special editions, no newspapers, to tell the
Londoner in the morning of the grim deed that had been
done in Edinburgh overnight. But when the news did
come it certainly startled London, and it raised up a per
fect passion of rage, a hysterica passio, in the heart and
brain of one person. That person was the Queen, who
had herself specially ordered the reprieve of the con
demned man. Queen Caroline's reason seemed for the

66 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. cn.xxir.
moment to be wellnigh unhinged by her anger at the
news. She uttered the wildest threats, and talked vehe
mently of inflicting all manner of impossible punishment
upon Edinburgh for the offences of its mob.
Fortunately for the maintenance of peace between the
two countries, the question of the justice or the injustice
of Porteous's fate was not to be settled by the caprice
of an irritated woman. In obedience, however, to the
Queen's wishes, the Government introduced into the House
of Lords, in April, 1737, a Bill the terms of which pro
posed to disable the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Alex
ander Wilson, " from taking, holding, or enjoying any
office or place of magistracy in the city of Edinburgh, or
elsewhere in Great Britain, and for imprisoning the said
Alexander Wilson, and for abolishing the town guard
kept up in the said city, commonly called the Town Guard,
and for taking away the gates of the Netherbow port of
the said city, and keeping open the same." The Bill was
the occasion of long and bitter debates, in which Lord
Carteret made himself the most conspicuous advocate of
the Government measure, and the Duke of Argyll acted
as the chief champion of the Scotch peers, who resolutely
opposed it. The debate was curious and instructive, in
serving to show the extreme delicacy of the relations be
tween England and Scotland, and the difficulties pre
sented by the differences between the Scotch law and the
English law. Porteous was tried and condemned natur
ally by Scotch law, and many, Lf not most, of the English
advocates of the Bill seemed to find it hard to put it out
of their heads that because the trial was not conducted in
accordance with the principles of English legislation it
could possibly be a fair or a just trial.
If the Bill was calculated to irritate the susceptibilities
of the Scotch peers, there were attendant circumstances
still more irritating. The three Scotch judges were sum
moned from Scotland to answer certain legal questions
connected with the debate. On their arrival a fresh de
bate sprang up on the question whether they should be

1737. SCOTTISH DIGNITY. 67
examined at the Bar of the House of Lords or upon the
wool-sacks. The Scotch peers considered it disrespectful
to their judges to be examined at the Bar of the House of
Lords, and urged some of their arguments against it in
terms of ominous warning. It is curious to find a speak
er in this debate telling the Government that the strength
of the legal union that existed between England and Scot
land depended entirely upon the way in which the people
of Scotland were treated by the majority in the two Houses.
If any encroachment be made, the speaker urged, on those
articles which have been stipulated between the two
countries, the legal union will be of little force; the Scotch
people will be apt to ascribe to the present royal family
all the ills they feel or imagine they feel; and if they
should unanimously join in a contrary interest they would
be supported by a powerful party in England as well as
by a powerful party beyond the seas. For such reasons
the speaker urged that any insult, or seeming insult, to the
people of Scotland was especially to be avoided, and any
disrespect to the Scotch judges would be looked upon by
the whole nation as a violation of the Articles of Union
and an indignity to the Scottish people.
The use of such words in the House of Lords within two-
and-twenty years of the rising of 1715 ought to have been
found most significant. No one who was present and who
heard those words could guess indeed that within eight
more years Scotland and England would witness a rising
yet more formidable than that of the Old Pretender, a
rising which would put for a moment in serious peril the
Hanoverian hold of the throne. But they might well
have been accepted as of the gravest import by those who
voted for the attendance of the Scotch judges at the Bar
of the 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 went on, and the measure was read a third time,
on Wednesday, May 1 1th, and passed by a majority of fifty-
four to twenty-two. On the following Monday, May 16th,

68 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxiv.
the Bill was sent down to the House of Commons, where
it occasioned debates even warmer than the debates in the
Upper House. The Scotch opposition was more success
ful in the Commons than it had been in the Lords. So
strenuously was the measure opposed that at one time it
seemed likely to be lost altogether, and was only saved
from extinction by a casting vote. When at last it was
read a third time, on June 13th, it was a very different
measure, in name and in form, from the Bill which had
come down from the Peers a month earlier. The propo
sal to abolish the Edinburgh city guard and to destroy the
gate of the Netherbow port disappeared from the Bill, and
the proposed punitive measures finally resolved themselves
into the infliction of a fine of two thousand pounds upon
the city of Edinburgh, and the declaration that the prov
ost, Alexander Wilson, was incapable of holding office.
Such was the pacific conclusion of a controversy that at
one time seemed likely to put a dangerous strain upon the
amicable relations between the two countries. It may in
deed be shrewdly suspected that the memory of the Por
teous mob, and of the part which the Hanoverian Queen
and the Whig Government played in connection with it,
may have had no small share in fanning the embers of
Jacobite enthusiasm in Scotland in swelling the ranks of
the sympathizers with King James and Prince Charles over
the water, and in precipitating the insurrectionary storm
which was to make memorable the name of the Forty-five.
Perhaps to the world at large the most momentous result
of that wild and stormy episode is to be found in the en
chanting fiction which has illuminated, with the genius of
Walter Scott, the stirring scenes of the Porteous riots,
and has lent an air of heroic dignity and beauty to the
obscure smuggler, George Robertson. It is the happy
privilege of the true romancer to find history his hand
maid, and to make obscure events immortal, whether they
be the scuffles of Greeks and barbarians outside a small
town in Asia Minor, or the lynching of a dissolute ad
venturer by an Edinburgh mob at the Grassmarket.

1737. UNPOPULARITY OF GEORGE THE SECOND. 69

CHAPTER XXV.
FAMILY JAES.
" HoAV is the wind now for the King ?" " Like the
nation — against him." Such was the question put, and
such the answer promptly given, by two persons meeting
in a London street during certain stormy days of Decem
ber, 1736. The King had been on a visit to his loved
Hanover. When the royal yachts were returning, some
fierce tempests sprang up and raged along both coasts;
and the King's vessel was forced to return to Helvoetsluis,
in Holland, from which she had sailed. She had parted
company with some of the other vessels. The storms
continued to rage, and the King, who had been most re
luctant to leave Hanover, was wild with impatience to get
away from Helvoetsluis. Having had to take leave of
Madame Walmoden, he was now anxious to get back to
the Queen. He sailed for Helvoetsluis while the tempest
was still not wholly allayed, and another tempest seemed
likely to spring up. News travelled slowly in those times,
and there were successive intervals of several days, during
which the English Court and the English public did not
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 un
popular in London, and indeed all over England. "The
King's danger," Lord Hervey says, " did not in the least
soften the minds of the people towards him; a thousand
impertinent and treasonable reflections were thrown out
against him every day publicly in the streets — such as
wishing him at the bottom of the sea; that he had been

70 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxv.
drowned instead of some of the poor sailors that had been
washed off the decks — and many other affectionate douceurs
in the same style." A man went into an ale-house where
several soldiers were drinking; he addressed them "as
brave English boys," and called on them to drink " dam
nation to your master." The man went on to argue that
there was no reason why the English people should not
hate the King, and that the King had gone to Hanover
only to spend the money of England there, and to bring
back his Hanoverian mistress. There is not much in this
of any particular importance; but there is significance in
what followed. The man was arrested, and the sergeant
who was with the soldiers when the invitation to drink
was given went to Sir Robert Walpole to tell him what
had happened. Sir^^obert thanked the sergeant and re
warded him, but enjoined him to leave out of the affidavit
he would have to make any allusion to the English money
and the Hanoverian mistress. There was quite enough in
the mere invitation to drink the disloyal toast. Sir Robert
said, to secure the offender's punishment; but the Prime-
minister was decidedly of opinion that the less said just
then in public about the spending of English inoney and
the endowment of Hanoverian women, the better for peace
and quietness.
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 just as
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 could tell what might not happen
in England then? Of course in the natural order of
things the Prince of Wales would succeed to the throne;
and what would become of the Queen and Walpole and
Hervey then? Hervey, indeed, tried to reassure the
Queen, anfl to persuade her that her son would acknowl
edge her influence and be led by it; but Caroline could
not be prevailed upon to indulge in such a hope even for

1737. THE PRINCE OF WALES. 71
a moment. To add to her troubles, her daughter, the
Princess of Orange, was lying in a most dangerous con
dition at the Hague — her confinement had taken place;
she had suffered terribly; and, to save her life, it had
been found necessary to sacrifice the unborn child, a
daughter. Every hour that passed without bringing news
of the King seemed to increase the chance of the news
when it came proving the worst. Such was the moment
when the Prince of Wales made himself conspicuous by
several bids for popularity. He gave a dinner to the Lord
Mayor and aldermen of the City of London on the occa
sion of their presenting him with the freedom of the city.
The Queen, who, for all her philosophical scepticism and
her emancipated mind, had many lingering superstitions
in her, saw an evil omen in the fact that the only two
Princes of Wales who before Frederick had been pre
sented with the freedom of the city were Ch.arles the
First and James the Second. The prince was reported to
the Queen to have made several speeches at the dinner
Avhich were certain to ingratiate him in popular favor.
"My God!" she exclaimed, "popularity always makes me
sick; but Fritz's popularity makes me vomit." People
told her that the prince and those around him talked of
the King's being cast away " with the same sangfroid
as you would talk of a coach being overturned." She
said she had been told that Frederick strutted about as if
he were already "King. But she added, "He is such an ass
that one cannot tell what he thinks; and yet he is not so
great a fool as you take him for, neither." Tho Princess
Caroline vowed that if the worst were to prove true, she
would run out of the house ait grand galop. Walpole
described the prince to. Hervey as " a poor, weak, irreso
lute, 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 least a thought of what
might happen to the country.
We have to take all these pictures of Frederick on

72 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxv.
trust — on the faith of the father who loathed him, of the
mother who detested and despised him, of the brothers
and sisters who shrank away from him, of the minister
who could not find words enough to express his hatred
and contempt for him. Of course the mere fact that
father and mother, brothers and sisters, felt thus towards
the prince is terrible testimony against him. But there
does not seem much in his conduct, at least in his public
conduct, during this crisis, which might not bear a favor
able interpretation. He might have given his dinners, as
the Queen held her public drawing-rooms, for the purpose
of preventing the spread of an alarm. No doubt the en
tertainment to the Lord Mayor and aldermen had been
long arranged; and the prince may have thought it would
be unwise to put it off at such a moment. Every report
was believed against him. A fire broke out at the Temple,
and the prince went down and stayed all night, giving
directions and taking the control of the work for the
putting out of the flames. His exertions undoubtedly
helped to save the Temple from destruction; and he be
came for the time a hero with the populace. It was re
ported to Caroline that either the prince himself or some
of his friends were going about saying that the crowd on
the night of the fire kept crying out, " Crown him! crown
him!" So far as the alarm of the Queen and Walpole had to
do with the state of the country, it does not seem that
there was any solid ground. What would have happened
if the bloated King had been tossed ashore a corpse on the
coast of England or the coast of Holland ? So far as the
public affairs of England are concerned, nothing in par
ticular would have happened, we think. George would
have been buried in right royal fashion; there would have
been an immense concourse of sight-seers to stare at the
royal obsequies; and Frederick would have been pro
claimed, and the people would have taken little notice of
the fact. What could it have mattered to the English
people whether George the Second or his eldest son was

1737. MONARCHY A PROSAIC INSTITUTION. 73
on the throne ? No doubt Frederick was generally dis
trusted and disliked wherever he was known; but, then,
George the Second was ever so much more widely known,
and therefore was ever so much more distrusted and dis
liked. The chances of a successful Jacobite rising would
not have been affected in any way by the fact that it was
this Hanoverian prince and not that who was sitting on
the throne of England. It would be hardly possible to
find a more utterly unkingly and ignoble sovereign than
George the Second; it is hardly possible that his son could
have turned out any worse; and there was, at all events,
the possibility that he might turn out better. Outside
London and Richmond very few people cared in the least
which of the Hanoverians wore the crown. Those who
were loyal to the reigning family were honestly loyal on
the principle that it was better for the country to have a
Hanoverian sovereign than a Stuart. Many of those who
in their feelings were still devoted to the Stuart tradition
did not think it would be wortli while plunging the coun
try into a civil war for the almost hopeless chance of a
revolution. England was beginning to see that, with all
the corruption of Parliament and the constituencies under
Walpole's administration, there was yet a very much bet
ter presentation of constitutional government than they
had ever seen before. The arbitrary power of the sover
eign had practically ceased to affect anybody outside the
circles of the Ministry and the Court. The law tribunals
sat and judged men impartially according to their lights,
and person and property were at least secure against the
arbitrary intrusion of the sovereign power. The old-fash
ioned chivalric, picturesque loyalty was gone; not merely
because royalty itself had ceased to be chivalric and pictu
resque, but because men had, after so many experiments
and changes, come to regard the monarchy as a merely
practical and prosaic institution, to be rated according to
its working merits. The majority in England at the time
when George was tossing about the North Sea, or waiting
impatiently at Helvoetsluis, had come to the conclusion
VOL. II. — 4

74 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. oh. xxv.
that on the whole the monarchy worked better under the
Hanoverians than it had done under the Stuarts, and was
more satisfactory than the protectorate of Cromwell.
Therefore, we do not believe there was the slightest prob
ability that the loss of George the Second would have
brought any political trouble on the State. One can
imagine objections made even by very moderate and rea
sonable Englishmen to each and all of the Hanoverian
kings; but we find it hard to imagine how any reasonable
Englishman, who had quietly put up with George the
Second, should be at any pains to resist the accession of
George the Second's eldest son.
But the truth is that although in her many consulta
tions with Walpole and with Hervey the Queen did some
times let drop a word or two about the condition of the
country and the danger to the State, she was not thinking
much about the state of the country. She was thinking
honestly about herself and those who were around her,
and whom she loved and wished to see maintained in com
fort and in dignity. Her conviction was that if her son
Frederick came to the throne she and her other children
would be forced to go into an obscure life in Somerset
House, 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 on the charity of the new
King. This was the view Walpole took of the prospect.
He thought those most in peril, those most to be pitied,
were the Queen and the duke, her son, and the princesses.
" I do not know," said Walpole to Hervey, " any people
in the world so much to be pitied as that gay young com
pany with which you and I stand every day in the draw
ing-room, at that door from which we this moment came,
bred up in state, in affluence, caressed and courted, and to
go at once from that into dependence on a brother who
loves them not, and whose extravagance and covetousness
will make him grudge every guinea they spend, as it must
come from out of a purse not sufficient to defray the ex
penses of his own vices."

1737. A ROYAL LOVE-LETTER. 75
Walpole, to do him justice, did think of the country.
For all his rough, coarse, selfish ways, Walpole was an
English patriot. Ho thought of the country, but he saw
no danger to national interests in the change from George
to Frederick. He saw, indeed, a great prospect of miser
able mismanagement, blundering, and confusion in the
Government. He foresaw the reliance of the coming
King on the most worthless favorites. He foresaw more
corruption and of a worse kind, and more maladministra
tion, than there had been before at any time since the
accession of George the First. He feared that it might
not be possible for him to remain at the head of affairs
when Frederick should have come to reign. But he does
not appear to have had any dread of any immediate cata
clysm or even disturbance. The troubles Walpole looked
for were troubles which might indeed make government
difficult, disturb the House of Commons, and bring dis
comfort of the bitterest kind into Court circles, but which
would be hardly heard of in the great provincial towns,
and not heard of at all in the country — at least not heard
of outside the park railings of the great country-houses.
Whatever the alarm, it was destined suddenly to pass
away. While Caroline was already secretly putting her
heart into mourning for her husband the news was suddenly
brought that George was safe and sound in Helvoetsluis.
He had been compelled to return, and there he had to re
main weather-bound. He wrote to the Queen a long,
tender, and impassioned love-letter — like the letter of a
youthful lover in whose heart the first feeling on an unex
pected escape from death is the glad thought that he is to
look once again on the fair face of his sweetheart. George
really had a gift for love-letter writing, the only literary
gift which he seems to have possessed. It is impossible
to read the letters from Helvoetsluis without believing
that they were written under the inspiration of genuine
emotion. Their style might well raise over again that in
teresting subject of speculation — whether it is in the
power of man to be in love with two or more women at

76 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxv.
the same time. King George was unquestionably in love
with Madame Walmoden: while he was near her he could
think of nothing else. He was in Hanover, feasting and
dancing, always in Madame Walmoden's company, while
his daughter was lying on v/hat seemed at one time like
to be her death-bed at the Hague. It is not a very far cry
from Hanover to the Hague, but it never occurred to
George to entertain the idea of leaving Madame Walmo
den to go and pay a visit to his daughter. Out of Madame
Walmoden's presence his thoughts appear to have flown
at once back to his wife. To her he wrote, not in the
mere language of conjugal affection and sympathy, but
with the passionate raptures of young love itself. The
Queen was immensely proud of this letter, although she
took care to say that she believed she was not unreason
ably proud of it. She showed it to Walpole and to Hervey,
who both agreed that they had a most incomprehensible
master. Walpole was a very shrewd and keen -sighted
man, but he did not understand Queen Caroline or her
feeling towards her husband. He had told Hervey more
than once that he did 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 husband the
more of the two, seeing that he had treated her so badly
while she had been all devotion to him. The love of a
woman is not always governed by a sense of gratefulness.
There are women whose hearts are like the grape, and
give out their best juices to him who tramples on them.
If anything is certain in all the coarse and dreary story of
that Court, it is that Queen Caroline adored her husband
— that she was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
The danger in which George had been, and out of which
he had escaped, did not in any way soften tho hearts of
King and prince, of father and son, towards each other.
The prince still occupied a suite of rooms in St. James's
Palace, and the King and he met on public occasions, but
they never spoke. The Queen was even more constant in
her hatred to the prince than the King himself. It does

1737. A FICKLE, INCONSIDERATE PRINCE. 77
not seem possible to find out how this detestation of the
son by the mother ever began to fill the Queen's heart.
She was not an unloving mother ; indeed, where her affec
tion to the King did not stand in the way, she was fond
and tender to nearly all her children. But towards her
eldest son she seems to have felt something like a phys
ical aversion. Then, again, the King was a dull, stupid,
loutish man, over whose clouded faculties any absurd
prejudice or dislike might have settled unquestioned; but
Caroline was a bright, clever, keen-witted woman, who
asked herself and others why this or that should be. She
must have many times questioned her own heart and rea
soned with herself before she allowed it to be filled for
ever with hatred to her son. Lord Hervey, who had a
true regard for her, and in whom she trusted as much as
she trusted any human being, does not appear to have
ever fully understood the cause of the Queen's feelings
towards the prince ; nor does he appear to have shared
her utter distrust and dislike of him. As far as one can
judge, the prince appears to have been fickle, inconsider
ate, and flighty rather than deliberately bad. He some
times did things which made him seem like a madman.
Such a person would not be charmed into a healthier con
dition of mind and temper by the knowledge daily thrust
upon him that his own father and mother, and his own
sister, were the three persons who hated him most in the
world. Of course, in this as in other cases of a palace
quarrel between a king and an eldest son, there was a bit
ter wrangle about money. The prince demanded an allow
ance of one hundred thousand a year to be secured to him
independently of his father's power to recall or reduce it.
The King had hitherto only given him what Frederick
called a beggarly allowance of fifty thousand a year, and
even that had not been made over to the prince tmcondi-
tionally and forever. The prince argued that his father's
civil list was now much larger than that of George the
First at the time when the Prince of Wales of that day,
George the Second now, was allowed an income of one

i^g A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxV,
hundred thousand a year. The Princess of Wales had as
yet received no jointure, and she and the prince were thus
kept, as Frederick's friends insisted, in the condition of
mere pensioners and dependants upon the royal bounty.
The prince's friends were, for the most part, eager to stir
him up to some open measure of hostility ; especially the
younger men of the party were doing 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 had
given the prince good advice ; and Carteret was not for
it. But Lord Chesterfield and several other peers, and
Lyttelton and William Pitt in the House of Commons,
were eager for the fray, and their counsels prevailed. To
use an expression which became famous at a much later
day, " the young man's head was on fire," and it soon be
came known to the King and Queen that the prince had
resolved to act upon a suggestion made by Bolingbroke
two years before, and submit his claim to the decision of
Parliament. More than that, when Walpole was consulted
Walpole felt himself obliged to declare his belief, or at
least his fear, that if the prince should persist in making
his claim he would find himself supported by a majority
in the House of Commons. The story had reached the
Queen in the first instance through Lord Hervey, and tho
manner of its reaching Lord Hervey is worth mentioning,
because it brings in for the first time a name destined to
be famous during two succeeding generations. The prince,
having been jjersuaded to appeal to Parliament, at once
began touting for support and for votes after the fashion
of a candidate for a Parliamentary constituency. He sent
the Duke of Marlborough to speak to Mr. Henry Fox, 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 intimate friends 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. He
had come into Parliament in the same year with William
Pitt, whose foremost political rival he was soon destined

1737. A ROYAL LIAR. 79
to be. He was also destined to be the father of the great
est rival of his opponent's son. English public life was
to see a Pitt and a Fox opposed to each other at the head
of rival parties in one generation, and a far greater Fox
and a not inferior Pitt standing in just the same attitude
of rivalry in the generation that succeeded.
Henry Fox went at once to Lord Hervey and told him
how he had been asked to support the prince, and how he
had answered that he should do as his brother did, what
ever that might be. Lord Hervey at first was not inclined
to attach much importance to the story. He said he had
heard so often that the prince was going to take up such
a course of action and nothing had come of it so far, and
he did not suppose anything would come of it this time.
Fox, however, assured him that the attempt would now
most certainly be made, and was surprised to find that the
ministers appeared to know nothing about it. He declared
that he did not believe there was a man on the side of the
Opposition who had not already been asked for his vote.
Lord Hervey hurried to the Queen and told her the un
pleasant news. Caroline sent for Walpole ; and at last
the story was told to the King himself. The Queen was
urged by Lord Hervey to speak to her son privately, and
endeavor to induce him not to declare open war upon his
father. The Queen would not do anything of the kind.
She declared that her speaking to her son would only
make him more obstinate than ever, and that he was such
a liar that it would not be safe for her to enter into any
private conference with him. Other intercessors were
found, but the j)rince was unyielding ; and George him
self, as obstinate as his son, could not be induced at first
by Walpole, or by any one else, to make any show of con
cession or compromise. The Princess Caroline kept say
ing ever so many times a day that she prayed her brother
might drop down dead ; that he was a nauseous beast,
and she grudged him every hour he continued to exist.
These sisterly expressions did not contribute much to any
manner of settlement, and the prince held on his course.

80 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxy.
The calculations of Frederick's friends gave him in ad
vance a majority of forty in the House of Commons ; and
even the most experienced calculators of votes on the
King's side allowed to the prince a majority of ten. Wal
pole began to think the crisis one of profound danger.
He felt it only too likely that the fate of his administra
tion would depend on the division in the House of Com
mons. Something must be done ; something at least must be
attempted. Walpole saw nothing for it but to endeavor
to aiTange a compromise. Parliament had opened on
February 1st, and the day appointed for the debate on this
important question of the prince's allowance was to be
Tuesday, the 22d of the month. On the Monday previ
ous, Walpole made up his mind that if the King did not
offer some fair show of compromise his party would be
beaten when the question came to be put to the vote. His
plan of arrangement was that the King should spontane
ously send to the prince an intimation that he was willing
to settle a jointure at once on the princess, with the added
remark that this had already been under consideration —
which indeed was true — not a very common occurrence in
Royal messages of that day; and that he was also pre
pared to settle fifty thousand a year on the prince himself
forever and without condition. Walpole did not believe
that the prince would accept this offer of compromise. He
knew very well that Frederick, full of arrogant confidence
and obstinacy, and backed up by the zeal and passion of
his friends, would be certain to refuse it. But Walpole
was not thinking much about the impression which the
offer would make on the prince. The thought uppermost
in his mind was of the impression it would make on the
House of Commons. Unless some new impression could
be made upon the House, the triumph of the prince was
absolutely certain ; and Walpole felt sure that if any step
could now alter the condition of things in the House of
Commons it would be the publication of the fact that the
King had spontaneously held out the olive-branch ; that

1737. FREDERICK'S "DUTIFUL EXPRESSIONS." 81
he had offered a fair compromise, and that the prince had
refused it.
Walpole had much trouble to prevail upon the King to
make any offer of compromise. Even Lord Hervey was
strongly of opinion that the attempt would be a failure,
that the proffered concession would be wholly thrown
away; such a movement, he said, would neither put off
the battle nor 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 lowering of the flag. Wal
pole, however, persevered, and he carried his point. A
deputation, headed by the new Lord Chancellor, Lord
Hardwicke, who had succeeded to the Great Seal on the
death of his famous rival. Lord Chancellor Talbot, was
sent to wait on the prince and submit to him the proposi
tion of his father. The prince answered rather ungra
ciously that the matter was entirely out of his hands now,
and that therefore he could give no answer to the Royal
message. It must be gratifying to every patriotic soul to
know that his Royal Highness accompanied this declara
tion with " many dutiful expressions " towards his father,
and that he even went so far as to say he was sorry it
was not in his power to do otherwise than as he had done.
The dutiful expressions did not by any means charm away
the wrath either of the King or the Queen. The two
stormed and raged against Frederick, and called him by
many very hard names. Both were much disposed to
storm against Walpole too, for the advice he had given,
and for his pertinacity in forcing them on to a step which
had brought nothing but humiliation. Walpole bore his
position with a kind of patience which might be called
either proud or stolid, according as one is pleased to look
at it. With all his courage, Walpole must have felt some
qualms of uneasiness now and then, but if he did feel he
certainly did not show them.
4*

82 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. caxxvi.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A PEEILOUS VICTOEY.
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 independent allowance
of one hundred thousand a year. The motion was pro
posed by Pulteney himself. Lord Hervey seems to be sur
prised that Pulteney, after having advised the prince not
to press on any such motion, should, nevertheless, when
the prince did persevere, actually propose the motion him
self. But such a course is common enough even in our
own days, when statesmen make greater effort at political
and personal consistency. A man often argues long and
earnestly in the Cabinet or in the councils of the Opposi
tion against some particular proposal, and then, when it is,
in spite of his advice, made a party resolve, he goes to
the House of Commons 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 of
the eldest sons of English kings. The speech was said
to have been delivered with much less than Pulteney's
usual force and flre ; and indeed, so far as one can
judge by the accounts — they can hardly be called re
ports — preserved of it, one is oblige(f to regard it as
rather a languid and academical dissertation. We start
off with what Henry the Third did for his son, afterwards
Edward the First, when that noble youth had reached the
unripe age of fourteen. He granted to him the Duchy of
Guienne; he put him in possession of the Earldom of

1737. INCENTIVES TO VALOR. 83
Chester ; he made him owner of the cities and towns of
Bristol, Stamford, and Grantham, with several other cas
tles and manors ; he created him Prince of Wales, to
which, lest it should be merely a barren title, he annexed
all the conquered lands in Wales ; and he created him
Governor of Ireland. All this, to be sure, was mightily
liberal on the part of Henry the Third, and a very hand
some and right royal way of providing for his own fami
ly; but it might be supposed an argument rather to
frighten than to encourage a modern English Parliament.
But the orator went on to show what glorious deeds in
arms were done by this highly endowed prince, and the
inferences which he appeared to wish his audience to
draw were twofold: first, that Edward would never have
done these glorious deeds if his father had not given him
these magnificent allowances ; and next, that if an equal,
or anything like an equal, liberality were shown to Fred
erick, Prince of Wales, it was extremely probable that he
would rush into the field at the first opportunity and
make a clean sweep of the foes of England.
We need not follow the orator through his account of
what was done for Edward tho Black Prince, and what
Edward the Black Prince had done in consequence ; and
how Henry the Fifth had been able to conquer France
because of his father's early liberality. The whole argu
ment tended to impress upon the House of Commons the
maxim that in a free country, above all others, it is abso
lutely necessary to have the heir-apparent of the crown
bred up in a state of grandeur and independency. Despite
the high-flown sentiments and the grandiose historical il
lustrations in which the speaker indulged, there seems to
the modern intelligence an inherent meanness, a savor of
downright vulgarity, through the whole of it. If you
give a prince only fifty thousand a year, you can't expect
anything of him. What can he know of grandeur of soul,
of national honor, of constitutional rights, of political lib
erty? You can't get these qualities in a prince unless you
pay him at least a hundred thousand a year while his

84 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxti.
father is living. The argument would have told more
logically if the English Parliament were going into the
open market to buy the best prince they could get. There
would be some show of reason in arguing that the more
we pay the better article we shall have. But it is hard
indeed to understand how a prince who is to be worth
nothing if you give him only fifty thousand a year, will
be another Black Prince or Henry the Fifth if you let him
have the spending of fifty thousand a year more. Wal
pole led the Opposition to the motion. Much of the argu
ment on both sides was essentially sordid, but there was
a good deal also which was keen, close, and clever, and
which may have even now a sort of constitutional interest.
The friends of the prince knew they would have to meet
the contention that Parliament had no right to interfere
with the Sovereign's appropriation of the revenues allotted
to him. They therefore contended, and, as it seems to us,
with force and justice, that the Parliament which made the
grants had a perfect right to see that the grants were ap
propriated to the uses for which they were intended, to
follow out the grants in the course of their application,
and even to direct that they should be applied to entirely
different purposes ; even, if need were, to resume them.
It would naturally seem to follow from this assumption,
that Parliament had a right to call on the King to make
the allowance to the prince, but it would seem to follow
also that the allowance ought not to be made independent
and absolute. For, if the Prince of Wales had an allow
ance absolutely independent of the will of any one, he had
something which Pulteney and his friends were contend
ing, as it was their business just then to contend, that the
English Parliament had never consented to give to the
King. On the other hand, it was pointed out with much
effect that there never had been any express regulation in
England to provide that the Prince of Wales should be
made independent of his father, and there was clear good-
sense in the contempt with which Walpole treated the ar
gument that the State dependency upon his father in

1787. PROVIDING FOR A PRINCE. 85
which the son of a great family usually lives, must neces
sarily tend to the debasing of the son's mind and the di
minishing of his intelligence, or that the dignity and
grandeur even of a Prince of Wales could not be as well
supported by a yearly allowance as by a perpetual and in
dependent settlement. Some of the speakers on Walpole's
side — indeed, Walpole himself occasionally — strove to
show their willingness to serve the prince by utterances
which must have caused the prince to smile a grim, sar
donic smile if he had any existing sense of humor. Please
do not imagine — this was the line of observation — that we
think one hundred thousand a year too much for his Roy
al Highness. Oh dear, no ; nothing of the kind ; we do
not think it would be half enough if only the nation had
the money to give away. " Why," exclaimed one gushing
orator, " if we had the money the only course we could
take would be to offer his Royal Highness whatever he
pleased to accept, and even in that case we should have
reason to fear lest his modesty might do an injury to his
generosity by making him confine his demand within the
strictest bounds of bare necessity." " Were we," another
member of the Court party declared, "to measure the
prince's allowance by the prince's merit, as we know no
bounds to the latter, we could prescribe no bounds to the
former." Therefore, as it was totally impossible that the
treasury of any State could reward this extraordinary prince
according to his merit, the speakers on Walpole's side mild
ly pleaded that they had only to fall back on the cold and
commonplace rules of ordinary economy, and try to find
out what sum the nation could really afford to hand over.
The men who talked these revolting absurdities were
saying among themselves an hour after that the prince
was an avaricious and greedy beast, and were openly pro
claiming their pious wish that Providence would be gra
ciously inclined to rid the world of him. Nothing strikes
one as more painful and odious in the ways of that Court
and that Parliament than the language of sickening syco
phancy which is used by all statesmen alike in public

86 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxti.
with regard to kings and princes, for whom in private
they could find no words of abuse too strong and coarse,
no curse too profane. Never was an Oriental despot the
most vain and cruel addressed in language of more nau
seous flattery by great ministers and officers of State than
were the early English sovereigns of the House of Hano
ver. The filthy indecency which came so habitually from
the lips of Walpole, of other statesmen, of the King —
sometimes even of the Queen herself — hardly seems more
ignoble, more demoralizing, than the outpouring of a flat
tery as false as it was gross, a flattery that ought to have
sickened alike the man who poured it out and the man
whom it was poured over. Poor, stupid George seems
to have been always taken in by it. Indeed, in his dull,
heavy mind there was no praise the voice of man could
utter which could quite come up to his perfections. The
quicker-witted Queen sometimes writhed under it.
Walpole, however, did not depend upon argument to
carry his point. The stone up his sleeve, to use a some
what homely expression, which he meant to fling at his
enemy, was something quite different from any question
of Constitution or prescription or precedent; of the genius
of the Black Prince, and the manner in which Wild Hal,
Falstaff's companion, had been endowed and allowanced
into Henry, the victor of Agincourt. Walpole flung
down, metaphorically speaking, on the table of the House
the record of the interview between the Prince of Wales
and the great f)eers who waited on him, bearing the mes
sage of the King. The record set forth all that had hap
pened : how the King had declared himself willing to
provide at once a suitable jointure for the Princess of
Wales; how he had shown that this had been under con
sideration, and explained in the simplest way the reason
why the arrangement had been delayed; how his Majesty
had voluntarily taken it on himself that the prince should
have fifty thousand a year absolutely independent of the
Sovereign's future action, and over and above the revenues
arising from the duchy of Cornwall, which his Majesty

1737. COMPARISONS. 87
thinks a very competent allowance, considering his own
numerous issue and the great expenses which do, and
which necessarily must, attend an honorable provision for
his whole royal family. And then the record gave the
answer of the Prince of Wales and its peculiar conclu
sion: "Indeed, my lords, it is in other hands — I am sorry
for it ;" " or," as the record of the peers cautiously con
cluded, "to .that effect."
The reading of this document had one effect, which
was instantly invoked for it by Walpole. It brought
the whole controversy down to the question whether the
prince's father or the prince's friends ought to be the
better authority as to the amount which the King could
afford to give, and the amount which the prince ought to
be encouraged to demand. It shrunk, in fact, into a mean
discussion about the cost of provisions and the amounts
of the land-tax; the number of children George the Second
had to maintain as compared with the small family George
the First had to provide for; the fact that George the
Second had a wife to maintain in becoming state in Eng
land, whereas George the First had saved himself from
the occasion of any such outlay ; the total amount left
for George the Second to spend as compared with the
total amount which the differing conditions left at the
disposal of his illustrious father. Let us see what the in
come of the Prince of Wales was computed to be by his
friends at that time. He had fifty thousand a year al
lowance. From that, said his friends, we must deduct
the land-tax, which at two shillings in the pound amounts
to £5000 a year. This brings the allowance down to
£45,000. 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 duty amounts to
£1250, and the fees to about £750, so that altogether
£7000 would have to be taken off, leaving the prince
only £43,000 allowance. Then, to be sure, there was the
duchy of Cornwall, the revenues of which, it was insisted.

88 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxti.
did not amount to more than £9000 a year, so that, all
told, the prince's income available for spending purposes
was but £53,000 a year. And yet, they pleaded patheti
cally, the yearly expense of the prince's household, ac
knowledged and ratified by the King himself, came to
£63,000 without allowing his Royal Highness one shil
ling for the indulgence of that generous and charitable
disposition with which Heaven had so bounteously en
dowed him.
Walpole's instinct had conducted him right. The read
ing of the message, which Walpole delivered with great
rhetorical effect, carried confusion into 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 in a majority of thirty. Archdeacon Coxe
in bis "Life of Walpole " gives it as his opinion that the
victory was obtained because some forty -five of the Tories
quitted the House in a body before the division, believing
that they were thus acting on constitutional principles,
and that the interference of the House of Commons would
be an unconstitutional, democratic, and dangerous innova
tion. But it is hardly possible to believe that the man
agers of the prince's case could have been kept in total
ignorance up to the last moment of the fact that forty-
five Tories were determined to regard the interference of
Parliament as unconstitutional, and to abstain from tak
ing part in the division. It is declared to be positively
certain that the "whips," as we should now call them,
of the prince's party had canvassed every man on their
own side, if not on both sides. They could not have made
up anything like the number they announced in an
ticipation to the prince if they had taken into account
forty -five probable or possible abstentions among their
own men. The truth evidently is that the reading of the
King's message compelled a good many Tories to with
draw who already were somewhat uncertain as to the
constitutionalism, in the Tory sense, of the course their
leaders were taking. They would probably have swal-

1787. WEALTHY KING: SEMI-STARVED PEOPLE. 89
lowed their scruples but for the message; that dexterous
stroke of policy was too much for them. How can we —
they probably thus reasoned with themselves — back up to
the last a prince who positively refused to listen to the
offer of a compromise spontaneously made by his father?
Money went much further in those days than it does in
ours. Fifty thousand pounds a year must have been a
magnificent fortune for a Prince of Wales in the earlier
part of the last century. On the other hand, George the
Second was literally stuffed and bloated with money. He
had between eight and nine hundred thousand a year, and
his wife was richly provided for. Odious bad taste, self
ishness, and griping avarice were exhibited on both sides
of the dispute; it would be hard to say which side showed
to the lesser advantage. There was much poverty all
this time in London, and indeed over the whole country.
Trade was depressed; employment was hard to get; with
in a stone's-throw of St. James's Palace men, women, and
children were living in a chronic condition of semi-star
vation. The Court and the Parliament were wrangling
fiercely over the question whether a king with a revenue
of nearly a million could afford to give his eldest son an
extra fifty thousand a year, and whether a 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 of them as did — and who hated
both king and prince alike, yet put up with the whole
thing simply because they had come to the conviction
that nothing was to be gained by any attempt at a change.
They had been passing through so many changes, they
had been the victims of so many experiments, that they
had not the slightest inclination to venture on any new
enterprise. They preferred to bear the ills they had; but
they knew that they were ills, and put on no affectation
of a belief that they were blessings.
The debate in the House of Lords took place on Fri
day, February 25th. Lord Carteret proposed the motion
for the Address to the King, and went over much of the

90 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxti.
same historical ground that Pulteney had traversed in
the Commons. The Duke of Newcastle replied in his
usual awkward and bungling fashion, with the uneasy at
titudes and clownish gestures which were characteristic
of him. He was not able to make any effective use of
the King's message, and the Lord Chancellor read it for
him. The division in the House of Lords showed seven
ty-nine votes and twenty-four proxies for the King, in all
one hundred and three ; and twenty-eight votes and twelve
proxies for the prince, in all forty ; the King had a ma
jority, therefore, of sixty-three. Some of the peers, among
them Lord Carteret and Lord Chesterfield, signed a pro
test against the decision of the House. The protest is
like so many other protests of the Lords — a very interest
ing and even valuable State paper, setting forth as it does
all the genuine arguments of the prince's supporters in
the clearest form and in the fewest words. The House of
Lords at that time was a more independent body than it
has shown itself in later years. Even already, however,
it was giving signs of that decay as an effective political
institution which had begun to set in, and which was the
direct result of Walpole's determination to rely upon the
representative Chamber for the real work of governing
the country. Neither Walpole nor any one else seemed
to care very much about the debate or the division in the
House of Lords. Already discussions in that Chamber,
no matter how eloquent and earnest in themselves, were
beginning to assume that academic character which al
ways, sooner or later, is exhibited where political debate
is not endowed with any power to act directly on legis
lation. Walpole's victory was a very cheap affair in one sense;
it cost only £900, of which £500 were given to one man
and £400 to another. 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 in any
case, but they took advantage of the crisis to demand
their pay at once. But in another sense it was a dear.

1737. A MAN OP CONSEQUENCE. 91
a very dear, victory to the minister. The consent of the
King to the offer of compromise had been extorted, more
than extorted, by Walpole. Indeed, as Walpole often
afterwards told the story, it was on his part not an extor
tion, but an actual disregard and overriding of the King's
command. The King refused at the last moment to send
the message to the prince; Walpole said the Peers were
waiting to carry it, and that carry it they should, and he
would not allow the King time to retract his former con
sent, and thereupon rushed off to the Lords of the Council
and told them to go to the prince with the message. Even
the Queen, Walpole said, had never given a real assent to
the policy of the message. When the victory in the Com
mons was won, the King and Queen were at first well sat
isfied; but afterwards, when the prince became more rude
and insolent in his conduct, they both blamed Walpole
for it, and insisted that his policy of compromise had only
filled the head and heart of the young man with pride
and obstinacy, and that he regarded himself as a con
queror, even though he had been nominally conquered.
The King felt bitterly about this, and the 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, Walpole thought. " I have been much nearer
than you think," he said to Lord Hervey, " to throwing it
all up and going to end my days at Houghton in quiet."
But he also told Hervey that he believed he was of more
consequence than any man before him ever was, or per
haps than any man might ever be again, and so he still
held on to his place. No doubt Walpole meant that he
was of more consequence than any man had been or prob
ably would be in England. He did not mean, as Lord
Hervey would seem to give out, that he believed he was
a greater and more powerful man than Julius Csesar.
Lord Hervey 's comment, however, is interesting. " With
regard to States and nations," he coldly says, "nobody's
understanding is so much superior to the rest of mankind
as to be missed in a week after they have gone; and, with

92 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxti.
regard to particulars, there is not a great banker that
breaks who does not distress more people than the dis
grace or retirement of the greatest minister that ever pre
sided in a Cabinet; nor is there a deceased ploughman
who leaves a wife and a dozen brats behind him that is
not lamented with greater sincerity, as well as a loss to
more individuals, than any statesman that ever wore a
head or deserved to lose it." There is a good deal of
wholesome, although perhaps somewhat melancholy, truth
in what Lord Hervey says. Perhaps we ought not to call
it melancholy; it ought rather to be considered cheerful
and encouraging, in the national sense. The world, some
modern writer has said, shuts up the shop for no man.
Yet there is, nevertheless, a tinge of melancholy in the
thought of a great man toiling, striving, giving up all his
days and much of his nights to the service of some cause
or country, all the while firmly believing his life indis
pensable 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.

1737. THE ENGLISH STAGE. 93

CHAPTER XXVIL
" EOGUES AND VAGABONDS."
The condition of the English stage became a subject
of some anxiety about this time, and was made the occa
sion for the introduction of an important Act of Parlia
ment. The reader of to-day, looking back on the dramatic
literature of the second George's reign, would not be apt
to think that it called for special measures of restriction.
The vices of the Restoration period had apparently work
ed out their own cure. The hideous indecency of Dryden,
of Wycherley, and of Vanbrugh had brought about a cer
tain reaction. The indecency of such authors as these
was not merely a coarseness of expression such as most of
the Elizabethan writers freely indulged in, and which has
but little to do with the deeper questions of morality;
nor did its evil consist merely in the choice of subjects
which are painful to study, and of questionable influence
on the mind. Many of the finest plays of Ford and Mas-
singer and Webster turn on sin and crime, the study of
which it might reasonably be contended must always
have the effect of disturbing the moral sense, if not of
actually depraving the mind. But no one can pretend
to find in the best of the Elizabethan writers any sym
pathy with vioiousness, any stimulus to immorality. Of
the Restoration authors, in general, the very contrary has
to be said. They revel in uncleanness; they glorify im
morality. It is the triumph and the honor of a gentleman
to seduce his friend's wife or his neighbor's daughter. Tho
business and the glory of men is the seduction of wom
en. The sympathy of the dramatic author and his read
ers goes always with the seducer. The husband of the

94 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxtii.
faithless wife is a subject .of inextinguishable merriment
and laughter. His own friends are made to laugh at him,
and to feel a genuine delight in his suffering and his shame.
The question of morality altogether apart, it seems posi
tively wonderful to an English reader of to-day why the
writers of the Restoration period should have always felt
such an exuberant joy in the thought that a man's wife
was unfaithful to him. The common feeling of all men,
even the men meant to be best, in the plays of Wycher
ley and Vanbrugh, seems one that might find expression
in some such words as these : " 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 a great pleas
ure and comfort to me to know that she has been seduced
by somebody; it is always a source of glee to me to know
that a husband has 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 have made men in
a certain sinful sense unselfish. They delighted so in vice
that they were glad to hear of its existence even where it
brought them no direct personal gratification.
All this had changed in the days of George the Second.
There had been a gradual and marked improvement in
the moral tone of the drama, unaccompanied, it must be
owned, by any very decided improvement in the moral
tone of society. Perhaps the main difference between
the time of the Restoration and that of the early Georges
is that the vice of the Restoration was wanton school-boy
vice, and that of the early Georges the vice of mature and
practical men. In the Restoration time people delighted
in showing off their vioiousness and making a frolic and
a parade of it ; at the time of the Georges they took their
profligacy in a quiet, practical, man-of-the-world sort of
way, and made no work about it. One effect of this dif
ference was felt in the greater decorum, the greater com
parative decorum, of the Georgian drama.
Yet this was the time when Walpole thought is neces
sary to introduce a measure putting the stage under new

1737. AUDACIOUS ATTEMPT AT BLACK-MAILING. 95
and severe restrictions. Walpole himself cared nothing
about literature, and nothing about the drama ; and he
was as little squeamish as man could possibly be in the
matter of plain-spoken indecency. What troubled him
was not the indecency of the stage, but its political in
nuendo. It never occurred to him to care whether any
thing said in Drury Lane or Covent Garden brought a
blush to the cheek of any young person; but he was much
concerned when he heard of anything said there which was
likely to make people laugh at a certain elderly person.
As we have seen, he had never got the best of it in the
long war of pamphlets and squibs and epigrams and cari
cature. It was out of his power to hire penmen Avho could
stand up against such antagonists as Swift and Boling
broke and Pulteney. He was out of humor with the press ;
had been out of humor with it for a long time; and now
he began to be out of humor with the stage. Indeed, it
should rather be said that he was now falling into a new
fit of ill-humor with the stage; for he had been very angry
indeed with Gay for his " Beggars' Opera," and for the
attempt at a continuation of " The Beggars' Opera " in
the yet more audacious " Polly," which brought in more
money to Gay from its not having been allowed to get on
the stage than its brilliant predecessor had done after all
its unexampled run. The measure of Walpole's wrath
was filled by the knowledge that a piece was in prepara
tion in which he was to be held up to public ridicule in
the rudest and most uncompromising way. Walpole act
ed with a certain boldness and cunning. The play was
brought to him, was offered for sale to him. This was an
audacious attempt at black-mailing; and at first it appear
ed to be successful. Walpole agreed to the terms, bought
the play, paid the money, and then proceeded 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
the introduction of a measure to put the whole English
stasre under restriction, and to brand it with terms of
shame. He picked out carefully all the worst passages.

96 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxvii.
and had them copied, and sent round in private to the
leading members of all parties in the House of Commons,
and appealed to them to support him in passing a measure
which he justified in advance by the illustrations of dra
matic licentiousness thus brought under their own eyes.
By this mode of action he secured beforehand an amount
of support which made the passing of his Bill a matter of
almost absolute certainty. Under these favorable condi
tions he introduced his Playhouse Bill.
The Playhouse Bill was a measure that attracted much
attention, and provoked a very fierce controversy. It was
a Bill to explain and amend so 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, vaga
bonds, sturdy beggars, and vagrants, and sending them
whither they ought to be sent," as relates to the common
players of interludes. One clause empowered the Lord
Chamberlain to prohibit the representation of any theatric
performance, and compelled all persons to send copies of
new plays, or new parts or prologues or epilogues added
to old plays, fourteen days before performance, in order
that they might be submitted to the Lord Chamberlain
for his permission or prohibition. Every person who set
up a theatre, or gave a theatrical exhibition, without hav
ing a legal settlement in the place where the exhibition
was given, or authority by letters-patent from the Crown,
or a license from the Lord Chamberlain, was to be deemed
a rogue and vagabond, and subject' to the penalties liber
ally doled out to such homeless offenders. The system of
license thus virtually established by Walpole is the same
that prevails in our own day. We do not, indeed, stigma
tize managers and actors as rogues and vagabonds, even
if they should happen to give a theatrical performance
without the fully ascertained permission of the authorities,
and we no longer keep up the monopoly of what used to
be called the patent theatres. But the principle of Wal
pole's Act is the principle of our present system. A play
must have the permission of the Lord Chamberlain before

1737. THE PRESS AND THE THEATRE. 97
it can be put on the stage; and while it is in course of
performance the Lord Chamberlain can insist on any
amendments or alterations in the dialogue or in the dresses
which he believes necessary in the interest of public moral
ity. A manager is, therefore, put under conditions quite
different from those which surround a publisher; an actor
is fenced in by preliminary restrictions which do not
trouble an author. There is no censorship of the press;
there is a censorship of the theatre. If a publisher brings
out any book which is grossly indecent or immoral or
blasphemous, he can be prosecuted, and if a conviction be
obtained he can of course be punished. But there is no
way of preventing him from bringing out the book; there
is no authority which has to be appealed to beforehand
for its sanction.
"Is this right?" The question is still asked. Why
should the people of these countries submit to a censor
ship of the press ? What can be the comparison between
the harm done by a play which is seldom seen more than
once by the same person, and is likely to be forgotten a
week after it is seen, and the evil done by a bad book
which finds its way into households, and lies on tables,
and may be read again and again until its poison has real
ly corrupted the mind ? Again, a parent is almost sure to
exercise some caution when he is taking his children to
a theatre. He will find out beforehand what the play is
like, and whether it is the sort of performance his daughter
ought to see. But it is out of the question to suppose that
a parent will be able to read beforehand every book that
comes into his house in order to make sure that it contains
nothing which is unfit for a girl to study. Why then not
have a censorship of the press as well as of the theatre,
or why have the one if you will not have the other? The
answer to the first question is that a censorship of tho
press is impossible in England. The multitude of publica^
tions forbids it. The most imaginative person would find
his imagination fail him if he tried to realize in his mind
the idea of the British public waiting for its morning
5

98 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxvii.
newspaper several hours while the censor was crawling
over its columns to find out whether they contained any
thing that could bring a blush to the cheek of a young
person. It would be ridiculous to put in force a censor
ship for books which had no application to newspapers.
But it is quite easy to maintain a certain form of censor
ship over the theatres. The number of plays brought out
in a year is comparatively small. The preparation for
each new play after it has been written and has passed
altogether out of its author's hands must necessarily take
some time, and there is hardly any practical inconvenience,
therefore, in its being submitted to the Lord Chamberlain
for his approval. But then comes the question. Is the cen
sorship of any use? Are v/e any the better 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 on the whole of some use; that we are better with it
than without it. It would be idle to contend that it is of
any great service to public morality in the higher sense,
but is certainly of considerable advantage as a safeguard
to public decency and decorum. The censorship of the
stage in England to-day does not pretend to be a guardian
of public morality. In all that relates to the higher moral
law the public must take care of itself. Let us give one
or two illustrations. Many sincere and not unintelligent
persons firmly believe that the cause of public morality is
injured by the representation of any play in which vice of a
certain kind is brought under public notice, even though
the object of the play may be to condemn the vice it ex
poses; but no censor of plays now would think of refusing
to permit the performance of " Othello " on that account.
To take a lower illustration: many people believe, and on
better ground, that such a piece as " The Lady of Lyons "
is injurious to public morals, because in that play the man
who makes himself a leading actor in an infamous fraud
becomes glorified into a hero and wins fame, fortune, and
wife in the end. But no censor would think of refusing
to allow the performance of " The Lady of Lyons." The

1737. THE PLAYHOUSE BILL. 99
censor regards it as his duty to take care that indecent
words are not spoken, and that what society considers in
decent dressing is not exhibited. That is not much, it
may be said, but it is better than nothing, and it is all we
can get or would have. The censor cannot go ahead of
the prevailing habits and the common opinion of the
society of his day. If we had a censor who started a
lofty code of morality and propriety all his own, public
opinion would not stand him and his code. Suppose we
had a censor who considered " Othello " shocking, and an
ordinary di^oUetke dress or an ordinary ballet costume in
decent, an outcry would soon be raised against him which
would compel him to resign his purposes or his oflice.
All he can do is to endeavor to order things so that nothing
is said or exhibited which might shock society's sense of
propriety, and this he can as a rule fairly accomplish. He
must also take his society as he finds it, A West End
audience in London will stand allusions and jests and
scantiness of costume which an East End audience, made
up almost exclusively of the working-people and the poor,
would not endure for a moment. The censor of plays can
be much more rigid in his discipline when he is protecting
the proprieties of poverty than when he is protecting the
proprieties of fashion. The censorship works well in Eng
land on the whole, because it has almost always been
worked by capable men of the world who understand that
they are not dealing with children, who do not magnify
their office, and do not strain after an austere authority
which it would be quite impossible for them to exert.
The Playhouse Bill passed through the House of Com
mons easily enough. No one of any mark took much ac
count of it, except Pulteney, who opposed it. The op
position offered by Pulteney does not appear to have been
very severe or even serious, for no division was taken in the
representative Chamber. The feeling of every one was not
so much concerned about what we should now call im
morality or indecency, but about lampoons on public men.
This fear was common to the Opposition as well as to the

100 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxvii.
Government, was shared alike by the Patriots and the
Court party; and so the Bill was sent speedily through
both Houses.
The debate was made memorable by the brilliant speech
of Lord Chesterfield in the House of Lords. All con
temporary accounts agree in describing this speech as one
of the most fascinating and impressive ever heard in
Parliament. Chesterfield strongly opposed the measure
in the interests of public liberty and the freedom of the
press. He knew where to hit hard when he called the
licensing department which the Bill proposed to create "a
new excise." The real object of the measure, he insisted,
was not so much to restrain the stage as to shackle th^
press, " It is an arrow that does but glance at the stage;
the mortal wound seems destined against the liberty of
the press." His argument to this effect was decidedly
clever, keen, plausible, and telling. " You can prevent a
play from being acted," he said, "but you do not prevent
it from being printed. Therefore a play which by your
censorship you refuse to allow to come on the stage, and
in the interests of public morals very properly refuse, you
allow to come in a printed form on the shelves of the
booksellers. The very fact that a play was not allowed
to be put on the stage will only make people the more
eager to read it in book form ; prohibited publications are
in all countries diligently and generally sought after.
Plays will be written in order to be prohibited by tho
censor and then to be sold in book form. What will come
of this ? Unquestionably an extension of the present
measure for the purpose of preventing the printing as
well as the public representation of plays. It is out of the
question that society could allow a play to be read by all
the public which it would not allow to be recited on the
boards of a theatre. Now then you have got so far as the
preventing of plays from being printed, what happens
next ? That a writer will turn his rejected, prohibited
play into a novel or something of the kind; will introduce
a little narrative as well as dialogue, and in this slightly

1737. THE CENSORSHIP OF THE STAGE. it^l
altered form offer his piece of scandalous work to the
general reader. Then, it will be asked, What! will you
allow an infamous libel to be printed and dispersed mere
ly 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 can find 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 Ches
terfield's reasoning. But its defect was that it made no
account of the amount of common-sense which must go to
the administration of law in every progressive country.
If the censorship of the stage had been worked in the
spirit and style which Chesterfield expected, then it is
beyond question that it would have to be followed up
by a censorship of the press or withdrawn altogether.
It would clearly be impossible to allow the very words
which were not to be spoken on the stage to be set out
in the clearest type on the shelves of every booksellei-.
But Chesterfield's own speech showed that he had entirely
misconceived: the extent and operation of a censorship of
the stage in a country like England. Tho censorship of
the stage which Chesterfield assumed to be coming, and
which he condemned, could not possibly, as we have shown,
exist in these islands. The censorship of the stage, if it
were to move in such a direction, would not be paving
tho way for a censorship of the press, but simply paving
the way for its own abolition. The speech was a capital
and a telling piece of argument addressed to an audience
who were glad to hear something decided and animated
on the subject; but it never could have deceived Ches
terfield himself. It took no account of the elementary
political fact that all legislation is compromise, and that
the supposed logical and extreme consequences of no
measure are ever allowed to follow its enactment. The
censorship of plays has gone on since that time, and it
has not interfered with the general liberty of acting ^nd
of publishing dramatic pieces. It has not compelled Par-

102 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxtii.
liament to choose between introducing a censorship of the
press or abolishing the censorship of plays. We have
never heard of any play worth seeing which was lost to
the English stage through the censorship of the drama,
nor was the suggestion ever made by the most reaction
ary Ministry that it should be followed up by a censorship
of the press.
Indeed in Walpole's day it might almost have seemed
as if the stage required censorship less than the ballad.
Probably, if it had been thought humanly possible to
prevent the publication and the circulation of scurrilous
poems against eminent men and women, Walpole might
have ventured on the experiment. But he had too much
robust common-sense not to recognize the impossibility of
doing anything effective in the way of repression in that
field of art.
Certainly the Muse of Song made herself very often a
shrieking sister in those days. When she turned her at
tention to politics, and had her patrons to be sung up
and her patrons' enemies to be sung down, she very often
screamed and called names, and cursed like an intoxicated
fish-wife. Pope, Swift, Gay, Hervey, flung metrical abuse
about in the coarsest fashion. There seemed to be hardly
any pretence at accuracy of description or epithet. If the
poet or the poet's patron did not like a man or woman,
no word of abuse was too coarse or foul to be employed
against the odious personage. Women, indeed, got off
rather worse than men on the whole ; even Lord Hervey
did not suffer so much at the hands of Pope as did Mary
Wortley Montagu. The poets of one faction did not spare
even the princes and princesses, even the King or Queen,
of another. Furious and revolting lines were written
about George and his wife by one set of versifiers; about
the Prince of Wales by another. No hour, no event, was
held sacred. Around a death-bed the wits were firing off
their sarcasms on its occupant. Some of the verses writ
ten about Queen Caroline, verses often containing the foul
est and filthiest libels, followed her into the sick-chamber.

1737. EDUCATED LIBELLERS. 103
the feed of death, the coffin, and tho grave. One could
easily understand all this if the libellers had been vulgar
and venal Grub Street hacks who were paid to attack
some enemy of their paymaster. But the vilest calum
nies of the time were penned by men of genius, by men
of the highest rank in literature ; by men Avhose literary
position made them the daily companions of great nobles
and of princes and princesses. Political and social hatred
seemed to level all distinctions and to obliterate most of
the Christian virtues.

104 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxviii.

CHAPTER XXVni.
THE BANISHED PEINCE.
The conduct of the Prince of Wales was becoming
more and more insolent to the King and Queen every
day. Perhaps King George was right in his belief that
Walpole's policy of compromise had made Frederick think
himself of some real account in public affairs. It is cer
tain that he began to act as if he were determined the
whole nation should know how thoroughly independent he
was of the authority of his father and mother. He had
soon a peculiar opportunity of making a display of this
ferocious independence.
The Princess of Wales was about to have her first
child. For some reason, which no one could well explain,
the news of the coming event was not made known to the
King and Queen until the hour of its coming was very
near. Even then there seems to have been some con
scious or unconscious misleading of the King and Queen
as to the actual time when according to calculations the
child was to be born. The King and Queen were left
under the impression that it was a good deal further off
than it really proved to be. The Queen, with all her nat
ural goodness of heart, was painfully suspicious. She was
suspicious sometimes even of those she loved and trusted;
and she hated both the Prince and the Princess of Wales.
She had taken it into her head that the Princess of Wales
was not likely to have a child. She persisted in asserting
to those around her that the princess was not pregnant
and never would be. Naturally when she allowed her
mind to be filled with this idea, the next conclusion for
her to jump at was the conviction that a supposititious
infant was about to be palmed off on the Palace and the

1737. AN IMPORTANT AFFAIR. 105
country. This idea took full possession of her mind, and
she kept constantly telling those around her that,, no mat
ter when or where the event might take place, she was de
termined to be in at that birth. In the most explicit and
emphatic way she told people that she would make sure
for herself that no child was imported in a warming-pan
this time.
The King and Queen Avere now in Hampton Court Pal
ace ; the Prince and Princess of Wales were also living
there. Nothing would have been easier for the Queen
than to carry out her purpose if the princess were allowed
to remain in the palace until after her confinement. It was
reported to her that the prince had said he was anxious
that his wife should be confined in London — in St. James's
Palace. This the Queen was determined to prevent if she
could. The Princess Caroline fully shared her mother's
belief that the Prince of Wales was quite capable of palm
ing off a spurious child on the country; and indeed the
King: became after a while as well convinced of it as his
wife and his daughter. It was resolved that a message
should be sent from the King to the Prince of Wales, giv
ing a sort of Royal command that the princess should re
main at Hampton Court until after her confinement. Lord
Hervey shook his head at all this. He did not believe
in the warming-pan fantasy; and he felt sure that in any
case the Prince of Wales would contrive to get his wife
out of Hampton Court- if he wished to do so. What was
to prevent the princess going up to London a little before
her time, and then affecting to fall suddenly ill there, and
declaring 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 had had. friendships and quar
rels and final estrangement, and he knew his prince pret
ty well.
What Hervey had predicted came to pass, but in a worse
way than he had ventured to predict. The Queen kept
urging Walpole to send the King's order to the prince.
Walpole kept putting it off. For one reason, the minis-
5*

106 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxtiii.
ter had been told the confinement was to be expected in
October, and this was only July. It is very likely, too,
that he shared Hervey's scepticism alike as to the sup
posititious child and the possibility of keeping the prince's
wife at Hampton Court against the prince's will. The
Royal command was never sent.
On Sunday, July 31, 1737, the Prince of Wales and the
princess dined publicly with the King and Queen in
Hampton Court Palace. Not a word was said to any
one about an early approach of the confinement. The
princess seemed in her usual condition. The two sets
of royal personages did not talk with each other at this
time, although they thus had ceremonial meetings in pub
lic. The Queen called the attention of some one near her
to the princess's appearance, and insisted that she was
not going to have a child at all. When dinner was over,
the prince and princess went back to their own apart
ments, and later that evening the princess was taken with
the pains of labor. Then followed what has hardly ever
happened in the story of the life of a poor washer-woman
or a peasant's wife. The unfortunate princess was far
gone in her agony before any one had time to think; and
before those around them had much time to think the
Prince of Wales had determined to carry her off, groan
ing in labor as she was, and take her ten miles to London.
The whole story is a shocking one ; and we shall put it
into a very narrow compass. !Sut it has to be told some
how. By the help of an equerry and a dancing-master,
the writhing princess was hoisted down-stairs and got into
a carriage. The dancing-master, Dunoyer, was a hanger-
on and favorite of the prince ; and, being employed to
teach dancing to the younger children of George the Sec
ond, acted as a kind of licensed spy, so Hervey says, on
the one family and the other. In the carriage with the
prince and princess came Lady Archibald Hamilton, who
was understood to be the prince's mistress. No royal
. movement in those days would seem to be thought quite
complete without the presence of some mistress of the

1737. NEIGHBORS REQUISITIONED. 107
King or prince. The carriage reached London about
ten o'clock. It had been driven at full gallop, the poor
princess writhing and screaming all the time, and the
prince scolding at her and telling her it was nonsense
to cry and groan about pain which would so soon be
over. When they got to St. James's Palace there were
naturally no preparations made for a lying-in. The prince
and Lady Archibald Hamilton set to work to get some
things in readiness, and found they had to send round the
neighborhood to collect some of the most necessary appli
ances for such an occasion. So pitifully unprovided was
the palace that no clean sheets could be found, and the
prince and his mistress put the princess to bed between
two table-cloths. At a quarter before eleven the birth
took place. A tiny baby was born ; " a little rat of a
girl," Lord Hervey says, "about the bigness of a good
large tooth-pick." Tlie little rat of a girl grew up, how
ever, to be a handsome woman. She was seen by John
Wilson Croker in 1809 and had still the remains of beau
ty. The Lords of the Council had been hurriedly sent
for to be present at the birth ; but the event was so sud
den and so unexpected that only Lord Wilmington, tho
President of the Council, and Lord Godolphin, the Privy
Seal, arrived in time to be able to testify that no warming-
pan operation was accomplished.
The unsuspecting King and Queen had gone to bed,
according to their usual quiet custom, at eleven o'clock.
Their feelings, as a certain class of writers are in the habit
of saying, may be more easily imagined than described
when they were roused from sleep about two in the
morning by the couriers, who came to tell them that the
princess had become the mother of a girl, and that tho
prince and princess were at St. James's Palace, London.
There was racing and chasing. Within half an hour the
Queen was on the road to London with the two eldest
princesses. Lord Hervey, and others. The Queen com
ported herself with some patience and dignity when she
saw tho prince and princess. The child was shown to her.

,108 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxTiii.
No clothes had yet been found for it but some napkins
and an old red cloak. " The good God bless you, poor
little creature," said the Queen in French; " you have
come into a very disagreeable world !"
The King and Queen consented to become the godfather
and godmother of the poor little creature who had been
brought thus disagreeably into this disagreeable world.
But the conduct of the prince was regarded as unpardon
able, and he was banished by Royal letter from the King's
palace, whether at Hampton Court or St. James's. The
prince's own party, Pulteney and his colleagues, utterly
refused to give their sanction to the extraordinary course
which Frederick had taken. Bolingbroke wrote from
France, angrily and scornfully condemning it. Bat the
Patriots were willing, and resolved to stand the prince's
friends all the same, and they had not even the courage
to advise him to make a frank and full apology for his
conduct. Indeed the action of the prince seems to- sug
gest an approach to insanity rather than deliberate and
reasoned perverseness. He had forced his wife to run
the risk of losing her own life and her child's life, he had
grossly and wantonly offended his father and mother, and
he had thrown a secrecy and mystery round the birth of the
infant which, if ever there came to be a dispute about the
succession, would give his enemies the most plausible ex
cuse for proclaiming that a spurious child had been imposed
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 could be whether the people would rather
have the Whig bastard or the Tory bastard.
The whole business, as might be expected, caused a ter
rible scandal. Not merely was the prince banished from
the palace, not merely did the King refuse to see him
or to hold further communication with him, but it was
formally announced by the Secretaries of State to all the
foreign ministers that it would be considered a mark of
respect to the Sovereign if they would abstain from visit
ing the prince. Furthermore, a message was sent in writ-

1737. APPLYING A PRECEDENT. ' 109
ing to all peers, peeresses, and privy councillors, declaring
that no one who went to the prince's court would be ad
mitted into the King's presence. Never probably was
domestic dirty linen more publicly washed. Nevertheless,
it very soon was made apparent that the course taken by
the King was in strict accordance with a precedent which
at one time had a very direct application to himself. Some
of the, prince's friends thought it a clever stroke of policy
just then to print and publish the letters which passed be
tween the late King and the present Sovereign when the
latter was Prince of Wales and got into a quarrel with
his father. The late King sent his viccrchamberlain to
order his son "that he and his domestics must leave my
house." A copy was also published of a circular letter
signed by the honored name of Joseph Addison, then Sec-.
retary of State, addressed to the English ministers at for
eign courts, giving the King's version of the whole quar
rel, in order that they might report him and his cause
aright to the unsatisfied.
Lord Hervey is inclined to think that, it was jiOt the
friends of the prince, but rather Walpole himself, who got
these letters printed. Hervey does not see what good the
publication could do to the prince and the prince's cause,
but suggests that it might be a distinct service to Wal
pole and Walpole's master to show that the reigning king
in his early days had been treated with even more harsh
ness than he had just shown to his own son, and with far
less cause to justify the harshness. Still it seems to us nat
ural for the prince's friends to believe it would strengthen
him in popular sympathy if it were brought before men's
minds that the very same sort of treatment of which
George the Second complained when it was visited on him
by his own father he now had not scrupled nor shamed
to visit upon his son. Among other discoveries made at
this time with regard to the more secret history of the
late reign, it was found, out that George the First actual
ly entertained and encouraged a project for having tho
Prince of Wales, now George the Second, put on board

110 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxtiii.
some war-vessel and " carried off to any part of the world
that your Majesty may be pleased to order." This fact —
for a fact it seems to be — did not get to the public knowl
edge; but it came to the knowledge of Lord Hervey, who
probably had it from the Queen herself, and it is confirm
ed by other and different testimony. A Prince of Wales
kidnapped and carried out of civilization by the command
of his royal father would have made a piquant chapter in
modern English history.
The prince and princess went to Kew in the first in
stance, and then the prince took Norfolk House, in St.
James's Square, for his town residence, and Cliefden for
his country place. The prince put himself forward more
conspicuously than ever as the head of the Patriot party.
It was reported to Walpole that in Frederick's determina
tion to make himself popular he was resolved to have a
Bill brought forward in the coming session of Parliament
to repeal the Test Act. The Test Act was passed in the
reign of Charles the Second, 1673, and it declared that all
officers, civil or military, of the Government must take the
sacrament according to the forms of the Church of England,
and must take the oaths against the doctrine of transub-
stantiation. This Act was, of course, regarded as a serious
grievance by the Dissenters of all denominations. Some
few eminent Churchmen, like Dr. Hoadley, Bishop of Win
chester, had always been opposed to the narrow-minded
policy of the Act. Hoadley, indeed, had made himself a
sort of leader of the dissenting communities on this sub
ject. For that and other reasons he had been described
as the greatest Dissenter who ever wore a mitre. When
the report got about that an attempt was to be made to
have the Test Act repealed, Walpole, with his usual astute
ness, sent for the bishop, knowing very well that, if such
a determination had been come to. Dr. Hoadley would be
among the very first men to be consulted on the subject.
Walpole expressed his mind very freely to Hoadley. A
coldness had long existed between them, which Walpole's
gift of the Bishopric of Winchester had not removed.

1737. BISHOP HOADLEY AND THE TEST ACT. Ill
Hoadley had thought Walpole slow, lukewarm, and in
different about movements in reform of Church and State,
which Hoadley regarded as essential parts of the pro
gramme of the Whig party. Walpole was perfectly frank
with him on this occasion, and explained to him the diffl-
culty which would come up in English affairs if the Prince
of Wales were encouraged to seek popularity at the ex
pense of the King and Queen by making himself the cham
pion of the Dissenters' grievances. Hoadley met Walpole
in a spirit of similar frankness. He declared that he always
had been and always should be in favor of the repeal of
the Test Act, but that he disapproved altogether of the
prince being set up in opposition to the King; and he
believed that even the repeal of the Test Act would be
bought at too dear a cost if it were the means of bringing
the King into a distressing family quarrel. Therefore the
bishop declared that he would give no encouragement to
such a scheme, of which, he said, he had lately heard noth
ing from the prince ; and that, whatever kindnesses he
might receive from Frederick, he should never forget his
duty to George. Walpole was delighted with Hoadley's
bearing and Hoadley's answer, and seemed as if ho never
could praise him enough. No one can question Hoadley's
sincerity. We must only try to get ourselves back into
the framework and the spirit of an age when a sound pa
triot and a high-minded ecclesiastic could be willing to
postpone indefinitely an act of justice to a whole section
of the community in order to avoid the risk of having the
Sovereign brought into disadvantageous comparison with
the Sovereign's eldest son. Walpole approved of the Test
Act no more than Hoadley did, although the spirit of his
objection to it was far less positive and less exalted than
that of Hoadley. But Walpole was, of course, an avowed
Opportunist ; he never professed or pretended to be any
thing better. There is nothing surprising in the fact that
he regarded an act of justice to the Dissenters as merely
a matter of public convenience, to be performed when it
could be performed without disturbing anybody of im-

112 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxtiii.
portance. Hoadley must have looked at the subject from
an entirely different point of view; it must 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 be made the means of obtaining a certain amount of
popular favor for the Prince of Wales as opposed to his
father the King. We shall see such things occurring again
and again in the course of this history. The agreement of
Walpole and Hoadley did, indeed, put off the repeal of the
Test Act for a pretty long time. The brand and stigma on
the Protestant Dissenters as. well as on the Roman Catho
lics was allowed to remain in existence for nearly another
century of English history. We are now in 1737, and the
Test Act was not repealed until 1828. Historians are some
times reproached for paying too much attention to palace
squabbles; yet a palace squabble becomes a matter of some
importance if it can postpone an act of national justice for
by far the greater part of a century.
• There was a -good deal of talk about this time of the
possibility -of adopting some arrangement for the separa
tion of Hanover from the English Crown. The fact of the
Princess of Wales having given birth to a daughter and
>nQt a son naturally led to- a revival of this question. The
¦electorate of Hanover could not detecend to a woman, and
if .the Prince of Wales should have no son some new ar-
'rangement would have to be made. The Queen was very
¦anxious that Hanover should be secured for her second
son, to whom she was much attached, and the King was
understood to be in favor of this project. On the other
hand, it was given out that the Prince of Wales would be
quite willing to renounce his rights in favor of his young
er brother on condition of his getting the fifty thousand a
year additional for which he had been clamoring in Parlia
ment. Nothing could be more popular with the country
than any arrangement which would sever th-e connection
between the Crown of England and the electorate of Han
over. If the prince were seeking popularity, such a pro
posal coming from him would be popular indeed, provided

1737: A QUESTION OF PRICE. 113
it were not spoiled by the stipulation about the fifty thou
sand a year. The Queen's comment upon the rumors as
to the prince's intention was that in her firm belief he
would sell the reversion of the Crown of England to the
Pretender if only the Pretender offered him money enough.
Nothing came of the talk about Hanover just then. The
King and the Queen had soon something else to think of.

114 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE queen's DEATH-BED.
The Queen had long been dying; dying by inches. In
one of her confinements she had been stricken with an
ailment from which she suffered severely. She refused to
let any one, even the King, know what was the matter
with her. She had the strongest objection to being re
garded as an invalid; and she feared, too, that if anything
serious were known to be the matter with her she might
lose her hold over her selfish husband, who only cared for
people as long as they were active in serving and pleasing
him. An invalid was to George merely a nuisance. Let
us do Caroline justice. She was no doubt actuated by the
most sincere desire to be of service to the King, and she
feared that if she were to make it known how ill she was,
the King might insist on her giving up active life al
together. Not only did she take no pains to get better,
but in order to prove that she was perfectly well, she used
to exert herself in a manner which might have been in
jurious to the health of a very strong woman. When at
Richmond she used to walk several miles every morning
with the King; and more than once, Walpole says, when
she had the gout in her foot, she dipped her whole leg in
cold water to be ready to attend him. "The pain," says
Walpole, "the bulk, and the exercise threw her into such
fits of perspiration as routed the gout; but those exertions
hastened the crisis of her distemper." History preserves
some curious pictures of the manner in which the morning
prayers were commonly said to Queen Caroline. The
Queen was being dressed by her ladies in her bedroom;
the door of the bedroom was left partly open; the chap-

1737, CAROLINE'S DEATH-STROKE. 115
lain read the prayers in the outer room, and had to kneel,
as he read them, beneath a great painting of a naked
Venus; and just within the half-open bedroom door her
Majesty, according to Horace Walpole, " would frequent
ly stand some minutes in her shift, talking to her ladies."
Robert Walpole was the first to discover the real and
the very serious nature of the Queen's malady. He was
often alone with her for the purpose of arranging as to
the course of action which they were to prevail upon the
King to believe to be of his own inspiration, and accord
ingly to adopt. Shortly after the death of Walpole's wife
he was closeted with the Queen. Her Majesty questioned
him closely about the cause of his wife's death. She was
evidently under the impression that Lady 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 the symptoms and progress of the disease, Walpole
had long suspected, as many others had, that there was
something seriously wrong with the Queen, He allowed
her to go on with her questions, and he became satisfied
in his own mind that the Queen herself was suffering from
the disorder about which she was so anxious to be told.
On August 26, 1737, it was reported over London that
the Queen was dead. The report was unfounded, or at
least premature, Caroline had had a violent attack, but
she rallied and was able to go about again at Hampton
Court with tbe King, On Wednesday, November 9, 1737,
she was suddenly stricken down, and this was her death-
stroke. She did not die at once, but lingered and lingered.
There are few chapters of history more full of strange,
sardonic contrast, and grim, ghastly humor, than those
which describe these death-bed scenes. The Queen, under
going a succession of painful operations ; now groaning
and fainting, now telling the doctors not to mind her fool
ish cries; now indulging in some chaff with them — "Is not
Ranby [the surgeon] sorry it isn't his own cross old wife
he is cutting up ?" — the King sometimes blubbering, and
sometimes telling his dying wife that her staring eyes

116 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxix
looked like those of a calf whose throat had been cut; the
King, who, in his sudden tenderness and grief, would 2>er-
sist in lying outside the bed, and thereby giving the poor,
perishing sufferer hardly room to move; the messages of
affected condolence arriving from the Prince of Wales,
with requests to be allowed to see his mother, which re
quests the mother rejects with bitterness and contempt-
all this sets before us a picture such as seldom, 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 she had worked upon all his weaknesses
and vices and made herself necessary to him. He did not
see how life was to go on for him without her; and as he
thought of this he cried like a child whose mother is about
to leave him. Over and over again has the story been
told of the. dying Queen's appeal to her hnsbaiid to take a
new wife after lier death, and the King's earnest disclaimer
of any such purpose; the assurance that he Would have
inistresses, and then the Queen's cry of cruel conviction
from hard experience, " Oh, mon Dieu, cela n'emp^che
^as !" "I know," says Lord Hervey, who tells the story^
"that this episode will hardly be credited, but it is' literal
ly true." One does not see why the episode should hardly
be credited, why it should not be taken at once as historical
and true. It is not out of keeping with all other passages
of the story, it is in the closest harmony and symmetry
with them. The King always made his wife the confidante
' of his amours and intrigues. He had written to her once,-
asking her to bring to Court the wife of some nobleman
or gentleman, and he told her frankly, that he admired
this lady and wanted to have her near him in' order that
he might have an intrigue with her, and he kneW'that she,
his wife, would always be glad to do him a pleasure.
Thackeray, in his lecture, often speaks of the King as
"Sultan George." George had, in the matter of love-
making, no other notions than those of a sultap. He had
no more idea of his wife objecting to his mistresses than-

1737. GEORGE'S SETTLED BELIEF. 117
a sultan Avould have about the chief sultana's taking of
fence at the presence of his concubines. The fact that the
Queen lay dying did not put any restraint on any of
George's ways. He could not be kept from talking loudly
all the time; he could not be kept from bawling out ob
servations about his wife's condition which, if they were
made only in whispers, must have tended to alarm and
distress an invalid. It is not the frank brutality of
George's words which surprises us; it is rather the sort of
cross-light they throw on what was after all a tender part
of his coarse and selfish nature. Every reader of the his
tory and the memoirs of that reign must be prepai-ed to
understand and to appreciate the absolute sincerity of the
King's words; the settled belief that the Queen could not
possibly have any objection to his taking to himself as
many inistresses as he pleased. One is a little surprised
at the uncouth sentimentality of the thought that never
theless it might be a disrespect to her memory if ho were
to take another wife. What a light all this lets in upon
the man, and the Court, and the time ! As regards indis
criminate amours and connections, poor, stupid, besotted
George was simply on a level with the lower animals.
Charles the Second, Louis the Fourteenth, Louis the Fif
teenth even — these at their worst of times were gentle
men. It was only at the Hanoverian Court of England
that such an interchange of appeal and reassurance could
take place as that which was murmured and blubbered
over the death-bed of Queen Caroline. " Horror," says
one of the great Elizabethan poets, " waits on the death
beds of princes." Horror in the truest sense waited on the
death-bed of that poor, patient, faithful, unscrupulous, un
selfish Queen.
The Queen kept rallying and sinking, and rallying
again; and the King's moods went up and down with each '
passing change in his wife's condition. Now she sank,
and he buried his face in the bedclothes and cried; now
she recovered a little, and he rated at her and made rough
jokes at her. At one moment he appeared to be all tender-

118 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxix
ness to her, at another moment he went on as if the whole
illness were a mere sham to worry him, and she might get
( up and be well if she would only act like a sensible woman.
The Prince of Wales made an attempt to see the Queen,
The King spoke of him as a puppy and a scoundrel;
jeered at his impudent, affected airs of duty and affection,
declared that neither 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 the place at once. His
Majesty continued all through the dying scenes to rave
against the Prince of Wales, and call him rascal, knavcj
puppy, and scoundrel. The Queen herself, although she
did not use language quite as strong, yet expressed just
as resolute a dislike or detestation of her son, and an utter
disbelief in his sincerity. She declared that she knew he
only wanted to see her in order that he should have the
joy of knowing she was dead five minutes sooner than if
he had to wait in Pall Mall to hear the glad tidings. She
told the listeners that if ever she should consent to see the
prince they might be sure she had lost her senses. Princess
Caroline was in constant attendance 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 couch was fitted up for her in a room adjoin
ing the Queen's; and Lord Hervey lay on a mattress on
the floor at the foot of the princess's bed. The King
occasionally went to his own rooms, and there was peace
for the time in the dying woman's chamber. Probably
the only two that truly and unselfishly loved the Queen
were occupying the couch and the mattress in that outer
room. The Queen talked often to Princess Caroline, and coin-
"mended to her the care of her two younger sisters. She
talked to her son William, Duke of Cumberland, then lit
tle more than sixteen years old, admonished him to be
a support to his father, and to " try to make up for the
disappointment and vexation he must receive from your

1737. A FATAL MISTAKE. 119
profligate and worthless brother." But she also admon
ished him to attempt nothing against 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
her finger a rubj'- ring which he had given her at her coro
nation, and put it on his finger, and said to him, almost
as patient Grizzel does, " Naked I came to you, and naked
I go from you." All who were present at this episode in
the dying were in tears, except the Queen herself. She
seemed absolutely composed; indeed she was anxious that
the end should come. She had no belief in the possibility
of her recovery, and she only wanted to be released now
from " the fever called living." Except for the bitter
outbursts of anger and hatred against the Prince of Wales,
the poor Queen seems to have borne herself like a true-
hearted, resigned, tender wife, kind mother, and Christian
woman. An operation was tried, with the consent of the King. J
Thereupon arises a controversy not unlike that which fol
lowed an imperial death in very modern European history.
Lord Hervey insists that the surgeons showed utter in
capacity, made a shocking and fatal mistake; cut away as
mortified 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 Walpole came in
and tried to drop on his knees to kiss the King's hand. It
was not easy to do. Sir Robert was so bulky and unwieldy.
He found it hard to get down, and harder still to get
up again. However, the solemn duty was accomplished
somehow, and then Sir Robert was conducted to the
Queen's bedside. He dropped some tears, which we may
be sure were sincere, even if by no means unselfish. He
was in utter dread of losing all his power over the King
if the Queen were to die. The Queen recommended the
King, her children, and the kingdom to his care, and Sir
Robert seems to have been much pleased with the implied
compliment of the recommendation.

120 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. en. Xxix.
The moment Walpole got to private speech with Lord
liervey, he at once exhibited 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
the management of him?" Lord Hervey tried to reas
sure him, and told him that his influence over the King
, would be stronger than ever. Walpole could not see it,
I and they argued the matter over for a long time. The
talk lasted two or three hours, much to Lord Hervey's dis
satisfaction, for it kept him out of bed, and this happen
ed to be the first night since the Queen had fallen ill when
he had any chance of a good night's rest; and now be
hold, with the Prime-minister's unseasonable anxiety about
the affairs of State, Lord Hervey's chance is considerably
diminished. Even this little episode has its fit and signif
icant place in the death-bed story. The Prime-minister
will insist on talking over the prospects — his own j^rospects
or those of the nation — with the lord-in-waiting; and the
lord-in-waiting is very sleepy, and, having had a hope of
a night's rest, is only alarmed lest the hope should be dis
appointed. No one appears to have said a word as to
what would be better or worse for the Queen.
I The Queen was strongly under the belief that she would
die on a Wednesday. 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 on Wednes
day, and it seemed in the fitness of things that Wednesday
should bring with it the close of that life. Wednesday
came ; and, as Lord Hervey puts it, " some wise, some
pious, and a great many busy, meddling, impertinent peo
ple about the Court " began asking each other, and every
body else they met, whether the Queen had any clergyman
to pray for her and minister to her. Hervey thought all
this very offensive and absurd, and was of opinion that if
the Queen cared about praying, and that sort of thing, she
could pray for herself as well as any one else could do it.

1737. PRAYING WITH THE QUEEN. 121
Hervey, however, kept this free and easy view of things
discreetly to himself. He was shocked at the rough cyn
icism of Sir Robert Walpole, who cared as little about
prayer as Hervey or any other man living, but was per
fectly willing that all the world should know his views
on the subject. The talk of the people about the Court
reached Walpole's ears, and he recommended the Princess
Emily to propose to the King and Queen that the Arch
bishop of Canterbury should be sent for. The princess
seemed to be a little afraid to make so audacious a pro
posal to the King, Defender of the Faith, as the suggest
ion that a minister of the Church should be allowed to
pray by the bedside of the dying Queen. Sir Robert en
couraged her in his characteristic way. In the presence
of a dozen people, Hervey tells. Sir Robert said to the
princess : " Pray, madam, let this farce be played ; the
archbishop will act it very well. You may bid him be
as short as you will. It will do the Queen no hurt, no
more than any good ; and it will satisfy all the wise and
good fools who will call us atheists if we don't pretend to
be as great fools as they are."
The advice of the statesman was taken. The wise and
good fools were allowed to have it their own way. The
archbishop was sent for, and he came and prayed with
the Queen every morning and evening; the King always
graciously bolting out of the room the moment the prelate
came in. But the wise and good fools were not satisfied
with the concession which enlightenment had condescend
ed to make. Up to this time they kept asking, " Has the
Queen no one to pray with her ?" Now the whispered
question was, " Has the Queen taken — will the Queen take
— the sacrament ?" Some people hinted that she could
not receive the sacrament because she could not make up
her mind to be reconciled to her son ; others doubted
whether she had religious feeling enough to consent to_
ask for the sacrament or to receive it. All this time the
King chattered perpetually to Lord Hervey, to the phy
sicians and surgeons, and to his children, about the virtues
VOL. II. — 6

122 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en.xxix,
and gifts of the Queen. He deplored in advance the lone
ly, dull life he would have to lead when she was taken
from him. He was in frequent bursts of tears. He de
clared 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 if she had not been
his wife he would rather have her for a mistress than any
other woman with whom he had ever held such relation
ship. Yet he hardly ever went into her room, after one of
these outpourings of tender affection, without being rough
to her and shouting at her and bullying her. When her
pains and her wounds made her move uneasily in her bed,
he asked her how the devil she could sleep when she would
never lie still a moment. He walked heavily about the
room as if it were a chamber in a barrack ; he talked in
cessantly; gave all manner of directions; made the unfortu
nate Queen swallow all manner of foods and drinks because
he took it into his head that they would do her good; and
she submitted, poor, patient, pitiable creature, and swal
lowed and vomited, swallowed again and vomited again,
\^^and uttered no complaint.
Even in his outbursts of grief the King's absurd per
sonal vanity constantly came out; for he was always tell
ing his listeners that the Queen was devoted to him be
cause she was wildly enamoured of his person as well as his
genius. Then he told long stories about his own indomi
table courage, and went over and over again an account of
the heroism he had displayed during a storm at sea. One
f night the King was in the outer room with the Princess
Emily and Lord Hervey. The puffy little King wore his
nightgown and nightcap, and was sitting in a great chair
with his thick legs on a stool ; a heroic figure, decidedly.
The princess was lying on a couch. Lord Hervey sat by
the fire. The King started the old story of the storm and
his own bravery, and gave it to his companions in all its
familiar details. The princess at last closed her eyes, and
seemed to be fast asleep. The King presently went into

1737. WOULD NOT PLAY SECOND FIDDLE. 123
the Queen's room, and then the princess started up and
asked, " Is he gone ?" and added, fervently, " How tire
some he is !" Lord Hervey asked if she had not been
asleep ; she said no ; she had only closed her eyes in
order to escape taking part in the conversation, and that \
she very much wished she could close her ears as well^
"I am sick to death," the dutiful princess said, "of hear
ing of his great courage every day of my life. One thinks
now of mamma, and not of him. Who cares for his old
storm ? I believe, too, it is a great lie, and that ho 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 the King came back into the room,
and his daughter ceased her comment on his bravery and
his truthfulness.
" One thinks of mamma, and not of him." That was
exactly what George would not have. He did dearly love
the Queen after his own fashion ; he was deeply grieved
at the thought of losing her; but he did not choose to play
second fiddle even to the dying. So in all his praises of
her and his laments for her he never failed to endeavor to
impress on his hearers the idea of his own immense supe
riority to her and to everybody else. There is hardly any
thing in fiction so touching, so pitiful, so painful, as this ex
position of a naked, brutal, yet not quite selfish, not wholly
unloving, egotism. The Queen did not die on the Wednes- /
day. Thursday and Friday passed over in just the same way,
with just the same incidents — with the King alternately
blubbering and bullying, with the panegyrics of the dying
woman, and the twenty times told tale of "his old storm."
The Queen was growing weaker and weaker. Those who
watched around her bed wondered how she was able to
live so long in such a condition of utter weakness. On the
evening of Sunday, November 20th, she asked Dr. Tesier
quietly how long it was possible that her struggle could
last. He told her that he was " of opinion that your Maj
esty will be soon relieved." She thanked him for telling
her, and said in French, " So much the better." About

124 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en.xxix.
ten o'clock that same night the crisis came. The King
was asleep in a bed laid on the floor at the foot of the
Queen's bed. The Princess Emily was lying on a couch
in a corner of the room. The Queen began to rattle
in her throat. The nurse gave the alarm, and said the
Queen was dying. The Princess Caroline was sent for,
and Lord Hervey. The princess came in time; Lord Her
vey 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 read some prayers, but had
only got out a few words before the Queen shuddered and
died. The Princess Caroline held a looking-glass to the
Queen's lips, and, finding the surface undimmed, quietly
said, '"Tis over"; and, according to Lord Hervey, "said
not one word more, nor as yet shed one tear, on the ar
rival of a misfortune the dread of which had cost her so
many." "Pray!" That was the last word the Queen ever spoke.
All the wisdom of the Court statesmen, all the proud, in
tellectual unbelief, all the cynical contempt for the weak
nesses of intellect which allow ignorant people to believe
their destiny linked with that of some other and higher
life — all that Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, Walpole, would
have taught and sworn oaths for — all was mocked by that
one little word, " pray," which came last from the lips of
Queen Caroline. Bring saucy Scepticism there; make her
laugh at that !
The story would be incomplete if it were not added that
while the Queen'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
with so bad a grace "that in the middle of my tears he
forced me to burst into laughter." Amid this explosion
of tears and laughter the story of the Queen's life comes
/ fittingly to an end.
The moment the breath was out of the Queen's body,

1737. WALPOLE STRENGTHENS HIS POSITION. 125
Walpole set about a course of action which should
strengthen his position as Prime - minister of the King.
At first his strong fear was that with the life of the
Queen had passed away his own principal hold upon the
confidence of George. He told Hervey that no one could
know how often he had failed utterly by argument and ef
fort of his own to bring the King to agree to some action
which he considered absolutely necessary for the good of
the State, and how after he had given up the attempt in
mere despair the Queen had taken the matter in hand, and
so managed the King that his Majesty at last became per
suaded that the whole idea was his own original concep
tion, and he bade her send for Walpole and explain it to
him, and get Walpole to carry it into execution. Hervey
endeavored to reassure him by many arguments, and among
the rest by one which showed how well Hervey understood
King George's weaknesses. Hervey said the one thing
which was in Walpole's way while the Queen lived was
the fear George had of people saying Walpole was the
Queen's minister, not the King's, and suggesting that the
King's policy was ruled by his wife. Now that the Queen
was gone, George would be glad to prove to the world that
Walpole had always been his minister, and that he retained
Walpole's services because he himself valued them, and not
because they had been pressed upon him by a woman. Her
vey proved to be right.
Walpole, however, was for strengthening himself after
the old fashion. He Avas determined to put the King into
the hands of some woman who would play into the hands
of the minister. The Duke of Grafton and the Duke of
Newcastle tried to persuade Walpole to make use of the
influence of the Princess Emily. They insisted that she
was sure to succeed to the management of the King, but
that if Walpole approached her at once he might easily
make her believe that she owed it all to him, and that she
might thus be induced to stand by him and to assist him.
Walpole would have nothing of the kind. He only be
lieved in the ruling power of a mistress now that the

126 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en.xxix.
Queen was gone. He gave his opinions in his blunt, char
acteristic way. Pie meant, he said, to bring over Ma
dame de Walmoden, and would have nothing to do with
" the girls." " I was for the wife against the mistress, but
I will be for the mistress against the daughters." Accord
ingly he earnestly advised the King not to fret any longer
with a vain sorrow, but to try to distract himself frgm
grief, and urged him, for this purpose, to send over at once
to Hanover for Madame Walmoden. Walpole's way of
talking to the young princesses would seem absolutely
beyond belief if we did not know that the reports of it
are true. He told the princesses that they must try to
divert their father's melancholy by bringing women round
him; he talked of Madame Walmoden, and repeated to
them what he had said to Lord Hervey, that, though he
had been for the Queen against Lady Suffolk and every
other woman, yet now he would be for Madame Walmo
den, and advised them in the mean time to bring Lady Del-
oraine, a former mistress, to her father, adding with brutal
indecency that "people must wear old gloves until they
get new ones." He offended and disgusted the Princesses
Caroline and Emily, and they hated him forever after.
Walpole did not much care. He was not thinking much
about "the girls," as he called them. He believed he saw
his way.

1738. JOHN WESLEY. 127

CHAPTER XXX.
the WESLEYAN MOVEMENT.
In 1738 John Wesley returned to London from Georgia,
in British North America. He had been absent more
than two years. He had gone to Georgia to propagate
the faith to which he was devoted; to convert the native
Indians and to regenerate the British colonists. He did
not accomplish much in either way. The colonists pre
ferred to live their careless, joyous, often dissolute lives,
and the stern spirit of Wesley had po charm for them.
The Indians refused to be Christianizled; one chief giving
as his reason for the refusal a melancholy fact which has
kept others as well as him from conversion to the true
faith. He said he did not want to become a Christian
because the Christians in Savannah got drunk, told lies,
and beat men and women. Wesley had, before leaving
England, founded a small religious brotherhood, and on
his return he at once set to work to strengthen and en
large it.
John Wesley was in every sense a remarkable man. If
any one in the modern world can be said to have had a
distinct religious mission, Wesley certainly can be thus
described. He was born in 1703 at Epworth, in Lincoln
shire. John Wesley came of a family distinguished for
its Churchmen and ministers. His father was a clergy
man of the Church of England, and rector of the parish
of Epworth ; his grandfather was also a clergyman, but
became a Non-conformist minister, and seems to have
been a good deal persecuted for his opinions on religious
discipline. John Wesley's father was a sincere and de
vout man, with a certain literary repute and well read in

128 J^ HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx.
theology, but of narrow mind and dogmatic, unyielding
temper. The right of King William to the Throne was
an article of faith with him, and it came on him one day
with the shock of a terrible surprise that his wife did not
altogether share his conviction. He vowed that he would
never live with her again unless or until she became of
his way of thinking ; and he straightway left the house,
nor did he return to his home and his wife until after the
death of the King, when the controversy might be con
sidered as having closed. The King died so soon, how
ever, that the pair were only separated for about a year ;
but it may fairly be assumed that, had the King lived
twenty years, Wesley would not have returned to his
wife unless she had signifled to him that she had re
nounced her pestilent scepticism.
The same stern strength of resolve which Wesley, the
father, showed in this extraordinary course was shown by
the son at many a grave public crisis in his career. The
birth of John Wesley was the result of the reconciliation
between the elder Wesley and his wife. There were
other children, elder and younger; one of whom, Charles,
became in after-life the faithful companion and colleague
of his brother. John and Charles Wesley were educated
at Oxford, and were distinguished there by the fervor of
their religious zeal and the austerity of their lives. There
were other young men there at the time who grew into
close affinity with the Wesleys. There was George
Whitefield, the son of a Gloucester innkeeper, who at one
time was employed as a drawer in his mother's tap-room;
and there was James Hervey, afterwards author of the
flowery and sentimental "Meditations," that became for
a while so famous — a book which Southey describes " as
laudable in purpose and vicious in style." These young
men, with others, formed a sort of little religious associa
tion or companionship of their own. They used to hold
meetings for their mutual instruction and improvement
in religious faith and life. They shunned all amusement
and all ordinary social intercourse. They were ridiculed

1738. TORPOR OP THE ENGLISH CHURCH. 129
and laughed at, and various nicknames were bestowed
on them. One of these nicknames they accepted and
adopted; as the Flemish Gueux had done, and many an
other religious sect and political party as well. Those
who chose to laugh at them saw especial absurdity in
their formal and methodical way of managing their spir
itual exercises and their daily lives. The jesters dubbed
them Methodists ; Wesley and his friends welcomed the
title; and the fame of the Methodists now folds in the
orb of the earth.
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 had as little thought of that
kind as in a later generation had the men who made
the Free Church of Scotland. Probably their ideas were
very vague in their earlier years. They were young men
tremendously in earnest; they were aflame in spirit and
conscience with religious zeal ; and they saw that the
Church of England was not doing the work that might
have been and ought to have been expected of her. She
had ceased utterly to be a missionary Church. She trou
bled herself in nowise about spreading the glad tidings
of salvation among the heathen. - At home she was abso
lutely out of touch with the great bulk of the people.
The poor and the ignorant were left quietly to their own
resources. The clergymen of the Church of England
were not indeed by any means a body of men wanting in
personal morality, or even in religious feeling, but they
had as little or no religious activity because they had lit
tle or no religious zeal. They performed perfunctorily
their perfunctory duties; and that, as a rule, was all they
did. Atterbury, Burnet, Swift, all manner of writers, who
were themselves ministering in the Church of England,
unite in bearing testimony to the torpid condition into
which the Church had fallen. Decorum seemed to be
the highest reach of the spiritual lives of most of the
clergy. One finds curious confirmation of the statements

130 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx.
made publicly by men like Atterbury and Burnet in
some of the appeals privately made by Swift to his pow
erful friends for the promotion of poor and deserving
clergymen whose poverty and merit had been brought
under his notice. The recommendation generally begins
and ends in the fact that each particular man had led a
decent, respectable life; that he was striving to bring up
honestly a large family ; and that his living or curacy
was not enough to maintain him in comfort. We hardly
ever hear of the work which the good man had been do
ing among the poor, the ignorant, and the sinful. Swift
has said many hard and even terrible things about bish
ops and deans, and vicars and curates. But these stern
accusations do not form anything like as formidable a
testimony against the condition into which the Church
had fallen as will be found in the exceptional praise
which he gives to those whom he specially desires to rec
ommend for promotion; and in the fact that the highest
reach of that praise comes to nothing more than the as
surance that the man had led a decent life, had a largo
family, and was very poor. Such a recommendation as
that would not have counted for much with John Wesley.
He would have wanted to know what work the clergy
man had done outside his own domestic life; what igno
rance had he enlightened, what sinners had he brought to
repentance. Things were still worse in the Established Church of
Ireland. Hardly a pastor , of that Church could speak
three words of the language of the Irish people. Lord
Stanhope, in his " History of England from the Peace of
Utrecht," writes as if the Irish clergymen — the clergy
men, that is, of the Established Church of Ireland — might
have accomplished wonders in the way of converting the
Irish peasantry to Protestantism if they only could have
preached and controverted in the Irish language. We
are convinced that they could have done nothing of the
kind. The Irish Celtic population is in its very nature a
Catholic population. Not all the preaching since Adam

1738. AN "ARCHBISHOP OF THE SLUMS." 131
could have made them other than that. Still it struck
John Wesley very painfully later on that the effort was
never made, and that the men who could not talk to the
Irish people in their own tongue, and who did not take
the trouble to learn the language, were not in a promising
condition for the conversion of souls. The desire of
Wesley and his brother, and Whitefield and the rest,
seems only at first to have been an awakening of the
Church in these islands to a sense of her duty. They do
not appear to have had any very far-reaching hopes or
plans. They saw that the work was left undone, and they
labored to bring about a spirit which should lead men to
the doing of it. At first they only held their little meet
ings on each succeeding Sunday; but they found them
selves warming to the task, and they began to meet and
confer very often. Their one thought was how to get at
the people; how to get at the lowly, the ignorant, and the
poor. Soon they began to see that the lowly, the igno
rant, and the poor would not come to the Church, and
that, therefore, the Church must go out to them. In a
day much nearer to our own a prelate of the Established
Church indulged in a very unlucky and unworthy sneer
at the expense of the first Roman Catholic Archbishop of
Westminster. He called him an " Archbishop of the
slums." The retort was easy and conclusive. It was an
admission. "Exactly; that is just what I am. I am an
archbishop of the slums; that is my business; that is
what I desire to be. My ministry is among the hovels
and the garrets and the slums ; yours, I admit, is some
thing very different,"
This illustrates to the life the central idea which was
forming itself gradually and slowly into shape in the mind
of John Wesley and in the minds of his associates. They
saw that archbishops of the slums were the very prelates
whom England needed. Their souls revolted against the
apparently accepted idea that the duties of a priest of the
Church of England were fulfilled by the preaching of a chill,
formal, written sermon once a week, and the attendance

132 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx.
on Court ceremonials, and the dining at the houses of those
who would then have been called "the great." An insti
tution which could do no more and strove to do no more
than the Church of England was then doing did not seem
to them to deserve the name of a Church. It was simply
a branch of the Civil Service of the State. But Wesley
and his brother, and Whitefield and the rest, fully believed
at first that they could do something to quicken the Church
into a real, a beneficent, and a religious activity. Most of
them had for a long time a positive horror of open-air
preaching and of the co-operation of lay preachers. Most
of them for a long time clung to all the traditional forms
and even formulas amid which they had grown up. What
Wesley and the others did not see at first, or for long
after, was that the Church of England was not then equal
to the work which ought to have been hers, A great
change was coming over the communities and the popula
tion of England. Small hamlets were turning into large
towns. Great new manufacturing industries were creat
ing new classes of working-men. Coal-mines were gather
ing together vast encampments of people where a little
time before there had been idle heath or lonely hill-side.
The Church of England, with her then hide-bound consti
tution and her traditional ways, was not equal to the new
burdens which she was supposed to undertake. She suf
fered also from that lack of competition which is hurtful
to so many institutions. The Church of Rome had been
suppressed for the time in this country, and the most ur
gent means had been employed to keep the Dissenters
down ; therefore the Church of England had grown con
tented, sleek, inert, and was no longer equal to its work.
This fact began after a while to impress itself more and
more on the minds of the little band who worked with
John Wesley. They resisted the idea to the very last ;
they hoped and believed and dreamed that they might
still be part of the Church of England. They found them
selves drawn outside the Church, and they found, too, that
when once they had gone even a vciy little way out of the

1738. JOHN WESLEY'S CHARITY. 133
fold, the gates were rudely closed against them, and they
might not return. It was not that Wesley and his asso
ciates left the Church of England. The Church would
not have them because they would persist in doing the
work to which she would not even attempt to put a
hand, John Wesley had been profoundly impressed by Will
iam Law's pious and mystical book, "A Serious Call to
a Devout and Holy Life," which was published in 1729,
Law lived in London, and Wesley, who desired to be in
frequent intercourse with him, used to walk to and from
the metropolis for the purpose. The money he thus saved
he gave to the poor. He wore his hair at one time very
long in order to save the expense of cutting and dressing
it, and thus have more money to give away in charity.
He and his little band of associates, whose numbers swell
ed at one time up to twenty-five, but afterwards dropped
down to five, imposed on themselves rules of discipline
almost as harsh as those of a monastery of the Trappist
order. They fasted every Wednesday and Friday, and
they made it a duty to visit the prisons and hospitals,
Wesley's father, who was growing old, was very anxious
that his son should succeed him in the rectory of Epworth,
John would not hear of it. In vain his father pressed and
prayed ; the son could not see his way in that direction.
John Wesley has been blamed by some of his biographers
for not accepting the task which his father desired and
thought right to impose on him. But no one on earth
could understand John Wesley's mission but John Wes
ley himself. When it was pressed upon him that in the
living of Epworth he would have the charge of two thou
sand souls be said, " I see not how any man can take care
of a hundred," It was pointed out to him that his little
band of companions had been growing smaller and small
er; he only answered that he was purifying a fountain
and not a stream. The illustration was effective and
happy. The truth is that the tremendous energies of John

134 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx.
Wesley could not possibly find employment within the
narrow field of work adopted by the Established Church
of his day. Wesley was a fighter ; he had to go out into
the broad living world and do battle there. He had orig
inality as well as energy; he must do his work his own
way; he could not be a minister of routine. He soon
found it borne in upon him that he must speak to his
fellow-man wherever he could find him. For a long time
he held back from the thought of open-air preaching, but
now he 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 had not been done in a
church." But from the first moment when he began to
preach to crowds in the open air he must have felt that
he had found his work at last. His friend and colleague
Whitefield, who had more of the genius of an orator than
Wesley, had preceded him in this path. One is a little
surprised that such men as Wesley and Whitefield should
ever have found any difficulty about preaching to a crowd
in the open air. The Hill of Mars at Athens listened to
an open-air sermon from an apostle, and Whitefield him
self observed at a later date that the " Sermon on the
Mount is a pretty remarkable precedent of field preach
ing," Meanwhile, however, Wesley's father died, and Wesley
received an invitation to go out to Georgia with General
Oglethorpe, the governor of that settlement, to preach to
the Indians and the colonists. He sailed for the new col
ony on October 14, 1735. He was accompanied by his
brother Charles and two other missionaries, and on board
the vessel was a small band of men from " the meek Mora
vian Missions." The Moravian sect was then in its earli
est working order. It had been founded — or perhaps it
would be more fitting to say restored — not many years
before, by the enthusiastic and devoted Count Von Zin-
zendorf. Wesley was greatly attracted by the ways and
the spiritual life of the Moravians. It is worthy of note
that when Count Zinzendorf began the formation or res-

1738. WESLEY'S SUPERSTITION. 135
toration of Moravianism he had as little idea of depart
ing from the fold of the Confession of Augsburg as Wes
ley had of leaving the Church of England. John Wesley
did not, as we have said, accomplish much among the col
onists and the Indians. Perhaps his ways were too dog
matic and dictatorial for the colonists. He departed alto
gether from the Church discipline in some of his religious
exercises, while he clung to it pertinaciously in others. He
offended local magnates by preaching at them from tho
pulpit, giving them pretty freely a piece of his mind as
to their conduct and ways of life, and, indeed, turning
them to public ridicule with rough and rasping sarcasms.
With the Indians he could not do much, if only for the
fact that he had to speak to them through an interpreter.
The tongue, says Jean Paul Richter, is eloquent only in
its own language, and the heart in its own religion. It
certainly was not from lack of zeal and energy that Wes
ley failed to accomplish much among the Indians. He
flung himself into the work with all his indomitable spirit
and disregard for trouble and pain. One of his biogra
phers tells us that " he exposed himself with the utmost
indifference to every change of season and incleihency of
weather ; snow and hail, storm and tempest, had no effect
on his iron body. He frequently lay down on the ground
and slept all night with his hair frozen to the earth ; he
would swim over rivers with his clothes on and travel till
they were dry, and all this without any apparent injury to
his health." It is no wonder that Wesley soon began to
regard himself as a man specially protected by divine
power. He was deeply, romantically superstitious. He
commonly guided his course by opening a page of the
Bible and reading the first passage that met his eye. He
saw visions; he believed in omens. He tells us himself of
the instantaneous way in which some of his prayers for
rescue from danger were answered from above. Those
who believe that the work Wesley had to do was really
great and beneficent work will hardly feel any regret that
such a man should have allowed himself to be governed

136 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxx.
by such ideas. It was necessary to the tasks he had to
execute that he should believe himself to bear a charmed
life. Wesley was very near getting married in Georgia. A
clever and pretty young woman in Savannah set herself
at him. She consulted him about her spiritual salvation,
she dressed always in white because she understood that
he liked such simplicity of color, she nursed him when he
was ill. The governor of the colony favored the young
lady's intentions, which were indeed strictly honorable,
being most distinctly matrimonial. At one time it Seemed
very likely that the marriage would take place, but Wes
ley's heart was evidently not in the affair. Some of his
colleagues told him plainly enough that they believed the
young lady to be merely playing a game, that she put on
affection and devotion only that she might put on a wed
ding-dress. Wesley consulted some of the elders of the
Moravian Church, and promised to abide by their de
cision. Their advice was that he should go no further
with the young woman, and Wesley kept his word and
refused to see her any more. She married, soon after,
the chief magistrate of the colony, and before long we
find Wesley publicly reprehending her for " something in
her behavior of which he disapproved," and threatening
even to exclude her from the communion of the Church
until she should have signified her sincere repentance.
Her family took legal proceedings against him. Wesley
did not care ; he was about to return to England, and he
was called on to give bail for his reappearance in the
colony. He contemptuously refused to do anything of
the kind, and promptly sailed from 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 matter of much importance either
way, and he doubtless would have married her but that
he thought it well to seek the advice of his Moravian
friends, and bound himself to abide by their decision.
That decision once given, he had no further wavering or

1738. WESLEY'S UNHAPPY MARRIAGE. 137
doubt, but the course he had taken and the manner in
which he had completely thrown over the woman did not
prevent him in the least from visiting her with a public
rebuke when he saw something in her conduct of which
he disapproved. He saw no reason why, because he
refused to be her lover, he should fail in his duty as her
minister. We may anticipate a little as to Wesley's personal his
tory. Later in his life he married. He was not happy
in his marriage. He took for his wife a widow who
plagued him by her narrow-mindedness, her bitterness,
and her jealousy, Wesley's care and kindness of the
women who came under his ministrations set his wife
wild with suspicion and anger. She could not believe
that a man could be kind to a woman, even as a pastor,
without having evil purpose in his heart. She had the
temper of a virago; she stormed against her husband, she
threatened him, she sometimes rushed at him and tore his
hair ; she repeatedly left his house, but was prevailed
upon by him to return. At last after a fierce quarrel she
flung out of the house, vowing that she would never come
back, Wesley's comment, which he expressed in Latin, was
stern and characteristic: "I have not left her, I have not
put her away, I will never recall her," He kept his word.
Wesley started on his mission to preach to the people
and to pray with them. Whitefield and Charles Wesley
did the same. Charles Wesley was the hymn writer, the
sweet singer, of the movement. The meetings began to
grow larger, more enthusiastic, more impassioned, every
day. John Wesley brought to his work "a frame of
adamant" as well as "a soul of fire." No danger fright
ed 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 cheer
fully bear, the privations he could recklessly undergo, the
physical obstacles he could surmount, with what would
be a feeling of incredulity were it possible to doubt the
unquestionable evidence of a whole cloud of heteroge-

138 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxx,
neous witnesses. Not Mark Antony, not Charles the
Twelfth, not Napoleon, ever went through such physical
suffering for the love of war, or for the conqueror's am
bition, as Wesley was accustomed to undergo for the sake
of preaching at the right time and in the right place to
some crowd of ignorant and obscure men, the conversion
of whom could bring him neither fame nor fortune.
All the phenomena with which we have been familiar
in modern times of what are called " revivalist " meetings
were common among the congregations to whom Wesley
preached. Women especially were affected in this way.
They raved, shrieked, struggled, flung themselves on the
ground, fainted, cried out that they were possessed by
evil spirits. Wesley rather encouraged these manifesta
tions, and indeed quite believed in their genuineness. No
doubt for the most part they were genuine: that is, they
were the birth of hysterical, highly strung natures, stimu
lated into something like epilepsy or temporary insanity
by the unbearable oppression of a wholly novel excite
ment. No such evidences of emotion were ever given in
the parish church where the worthy clergyman read his
duly prepared or perhaps thoughtfully purchased sermon.
Sometimes a new form of hysteria possessed some of
Wesley's congregations, and irrepressible peals of laugh
ter broke from some of the brethren and sisters, who de
clared that they were forced to it by Satan. Wesley
quite accepted this explanation, and so did most of his
companions. Two ladies, however, refused to believe, and
insisted that " any one might help laughing if she would,"
But very soon after these two sceptics were seized with
the very same sort of irrepressible laughter. They con
tinued for two days laughing almost without cessation,
" a spectacle to all," as Wesley tells, " and were then upon
prayer made for them delivered in a moment." It is al
most needless now to say that bursts of irrepressible
laughter are among the commonest forms of hysterical
excitement. The cooler common-sense of Charles Wesley, however.

1738. WHITEFIELD'S ORATORY. 139
saw these manifestations with different eyes. He felt
sure that there was sometimes a good deal of affectation
in them, and he publicly remonstrated with some women
who, as it appeared to him, were needlessly making them
selves ridiculous. He was probably right in these in
stances : the instinct of imitation is so strong among men
and women that every genuine outburst of maniacal ex
citement is sure to be followed by some purely mimetic
efforts of a similar demonstration. The novelty of the
whole movement was enough to account for the genuine
and the sham hysterics. It was an entirely new experi
ence then for English men and women of the humblest
class, and of that generation, to be addressed in great
open-air masses by renowned and powerful preachers.
Whitefield's first great effort at field-preaching was made
for the benefit of the colliers at Kingswood, near Bristol.
Before many weeks had gone by, he could gather round
him some twenty thousand of these men. Whitefield had
a marvellous fervor and force of oratory. His voice, his
gestures, his sudden and startling appeals, his solemn
pauses, the dramatic and even theatric energy which he
threw into his attitudes and his action, his flights of lofty
and sustained declamation, contrasting with sentences of
homely colloquialism, were overwhelming in their effect
on such an audience. "The flrst discovery," he says
himself, "of their being affected was to see the white
gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down
their cheeks, black as they came out of the coal-pits." It
was not only miners and other illiterate men whom White-
field impressed by the fervor and passion of his eloquence.
Hume, Benjamin Franklin, Horace Walpole, and other
men as well qualified to judge, and as little likely to fall
under the spell of religious or sentimental enthusiasm,
have borne willing 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 Calvinis-
tic doctrine of predestination. Wesley was opposed to

140 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxx.
the doctrine; Whitefield willing to accept it. They dis
cussed and discussed the question, but without drawing
any nearer together. Indeed, as might naturally have
been expected, they only fell more widely asunder, and
after a while the difference of opinion grew to something
like a personal estrangement, Wesley had already broken
away from spiritual communion with some of his old
friends, the Moravians, Probably he felt all the stronger
for his own work now that he stood as a leader all but
alone. He walked his own wild road; Whitefield took a
path for himself, Wesley soon found that he was gain
ing more followers than he had lost. He had to adopt
the practice of employing lay preachers ; it was a matter
of necessity to his task. He could not induce many clergy
men to work under his guidance and after his fashion.
The movement was spreading all over the country. Wes
ley became the centre and light of his wing of the cam
paign. The machinery of his organization was simple and
strong. A conference was called together every year,
which was composed of preachers selected by Wesley.
These formed his cabinet or central board, and lent their
authority to his decisions.
This was the germ of the great Wesleyan organization,
which has since become so powerful, and has spread itself
so widely over. Great Britain and the American States.
The preachers were sent by Wesley from one part of the
country to another, just as he thought best; and it never
occurred to any missionary to refuse, remonstrate, or even
delay. The system was admirable; the discipline was
perfect. Wesley was as completely in command of his
body of missionaries as the general of the order of Jesuits
is of those over whom he is called to exercise control.
The humblest of the Wesleyaft preachers caught some
thing, caught indeed very much, of the energy, the courage,
the devotion, the self-sacrifice, of their great leader. No
doubt there were many errors and offences here and there.
Good taste, sobriety of judgment, prudence, common-sense,
were now and then offended. Most of the preachers Avere

1738. OPPOSITION TO WESLEYANISM. 141
ignorant men, who had nothing but an untaught enthusiasm
and a rude, uncouth eloquence to carry them on. They
had to preach to multitudes very often more ignorant
and uncouth than themselves. It would be absolutely
impossible under such conditions that there should not
sometimes be offence, and, as Hamlet says, " much offence
too." But there was no greater departure from the lines
of propriety and good taste than any one who took a
reasonable view of the whole work and its workers must
have expected to find.
Of course a strong opposition to the movement showed
itself in many parts of the country. The Wesleyans were
denounced; they were ridiculed; they were caricatured;
they were threatened; they were set upon by ruffians; they
were stoned by mobs. In some places it was said that
the local magistrates actually connived with the attempt
to drive them out by force. Projects are actually de
clared to have been formed for their complete extermina
tion. Such projects, however, do not succeed. No amount
of violence has ever yet exterminated religious zeal and im
passioned, even let it be fanatical, enthusiasm. John Wes
ley went his way undismayed. He even appears to have
positively enjoyed the excitement and the danger. The
persecution began after a while to languish in its efforts,
and the Wesleyans kept growing more and more numerous
and strong. But the movement in growing grew away
from the Church of England. Wesley had been drawn out
of his original intent step after step. He could not help
himself, once his movement had been started. He had
iiad to take to field preaching, for the good reason that he
'could not otherwise reach the peoj^le whom it was his
' heart's warmest longing to reach. He had to take to em
ploying lay preachers, because without them he could not
have got his preaching done. At last he began to ordain
ministers, and even, it is said, bishops, for the missions in
America. He had, in fact, broken away altogether from
the discipline of the Church of England, although he per
sisted to his dying day that he never had any design of

142 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx.
separating from the Church, "and had no such design
now," Near to the close of his long life he declared, " I
live and die a member of the Church of England, and
none who regard my judgment or advice will ever separate
from it." No one can doubt that Wesley spoke in full
sincerity. When he stepped outside the pale of Church
practice it was only to do what he believed ought to have
been the work of the Church itself, but which the Church
did not then care to attempt, and which, as he felt con
vinced, could not afford to wait for the indefinite time
when the Church might have the spirit, the energy, and
the resources needed for such an undertaking.
Wesley was a thorough despot; as much of a despot as
Peter the Great or Napoleon. He took no trouble to dis
guise his despotic purpose. Pie did not shelter himself,
as Napoleon once wished to do, under the draperies of a
constitutional king. Wesley was satisfied in his own
mind that he knew better than any other man how to
guide his movements and govern his followers, and he
told people that he knew it, and acted accordingly. The
members of his conference, or what we have called his
cabinet, were only like Clive's council of war; Wesley
listened to their advice and their arguments, but acted
according to his own judgment all the same. Late in
his career it was charged against him that he was trying
to turn himself into a sort of Methodist pope. He asked
for some explanation of this, and was told that he had in
vested himself with arbitrary power. His answer was sim
ple and straightforward. " If by arbitrary power you mean
a power which I exercise singly, without any colleagues
therein, this is certainly true; but I see no hurt in it." All
the actions of his life show this complete faith in himself
where the business of his mission was concerned. He was
dogmatic, masterful, overbearing, very often far from ami
able, sometimes all but unendurable, to those around him.
But if he had not had these peculiar qualities or defects he
would not have been the man that he was ; he would not
have been able to bear the charge of such a task at such a

1738. RELIGION OUT OF FASHION. 143
time. It is probable that Hannibal did not cut through the
Alps with vinegar ; it is certain that he could not have
pierced his way with honey.
Nothing can better show than the rise and progress of
the great Methodist movement how vast is the difference
between a people and what is commonly called society.
In society everywhere throughout England, in the great
provincial cities as well as in the capital, religion seemed
to have completely gone out of fashion. The Court cared
nothing about it. The King had no real belief in his
heart ; he had as little faith in Divine guidance as he
had in the honor of man or the chastity of woman. The
Queen's devotional exercises were nothing but a mere per
formance carried on sometimes through a half - opened
door, the attendant minister on one side of the door and
the gossiping, chattering ladies on the other. The lead
ing statesmen of the age were avowedly indifferent or
professedly unbelieving. Bolingbroke was a preacher of
unbelief. Walpole never seems to have cared to turn his
thoughts for one moment to anything higher than his own
political career, the upholding of his friends if they stood
fast by him, and the downfall of his enemies. Chesterfield
was not exactly the sort of man to be stirred into spiritual
life. Morals were getting out of fashion as much as relig
ion. Society had all the grossness without much of the
wit which belonged to the days of the Restoration. Yet
the mere fact that the Wesleyan movement made such
sudden way among the poor and the lowly shows beyond
question that the heart of the English people had not been
corrupted. Conscience was asleep, but it was not dead.
The first words of Wesley seemed to quicken it into a new
life. We have somewhat anticipated the actual course of
events in order to show at once what the Wesleyan move
ment came to. During the lifetime of its founder it had
grown into a great national and international institution.
Since his time it has been spreading and growing all over
the world where Christianity grows. It is the severest in

144 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx.
its discipline of all the Protestant churches, and yet it ex
ercises a charm even over gentle and tender natures, and
makes them its willing servants, while it teaches the wilder
and fiercer spirits to bend their natures and tame their wild
passions down. In the United States of America Wesley-
anism is now one of the most popular and powerful of all
the denominations of Christianity. It has since been di
vided up into many sections, both here and there, on ques
tions of discipline, and even on questions of belief; but in
its leading characteristics it has been faithful to the main
purpose of its founder. Its success did not consist mainly
in what it accomplished for its own people ; it achieved a
great work also by the impulse it gave to the Church of
England. That Church for a while seemed to be filled
with a reviving spiritual and ministerial activity. It ap
peared to take shame to itself that it had remained so long
apathetic and perfunctory, and it flung itself into competi
tion with the younger and more energetic mission. The
English Church did not indeed retain this mood of ardor
and of eagerness very long. After a time it relapsed into
comparative inactivity; and a new and very different move
ment was needed at a period much nearer to our own to
make it once again a ministering power to the people — to
the poor. But for the time the revival of the Church was
genuine and was beneficent. With the quickened relig
ious vitality of the Wesleyan movement came also a quick
ened philanthropic spirit ; a zeal for the instruction, the
purification, and the better life of men and women. The
common instinct of humanity always is to strive for high
er and better ways of living, if only once the word of
guidance is given and the soul of true manhood is roused
to the work. Indeed, there is not much about this period
of English history concerning which the modern English
man can feel really proud except that great religious revi
val which began with the thoughts and the teachings of
John Wesley. One turns in relief from the partisan strug
gles in Parliament and out of it, from the intrigues and
counter-intrigues of selfish and perfidious statesmen, and

1738. THE WESLEYAN WORK. 145
the alcove conspiracies of worthless women, to Wesley
and his religious visions, to Whitefield and his colliers,
to Charles Wesley and his sweet devotional hymns. Many
of us are unable to have any manner of sympathy with
the precise doctrines and the forms of faith which Wesley
taught. But the man must have no sympathy with faith
or religious feeling of any kind who does not recognize the
unspeakable value of that great reform which Wesley and
Whitefield introduced to the English people. They taught
moral doctrines which we all accept in common, but they
did not teach them after the cold and barren way of the
plodding, mechanical instructor. They thundered them
into the opening ears of thousands who had never been
roused to moral sentiment before. They inspired the souls
of poor and commonplace creatures with all the zealot's
fire and all the martyr's endurance. They brought tears
to penitent eyes which had never been moistened before
by any but the selfish sense of personal pain or grief.
They pierced through the dull, vulgar, contaminated hide-
ousness of low and vicious life, and sent streaming in
upon it the light of a higher world and a better law.
Every new Wesleyan became a missionary of Wesleyan-
ism. The son converted the father, the daughter won over
the heart of the mother. There was much that was hard,
much that was fierce, in the doctrine and tjie discipline of
Methodism, but that time was not one in which gentler
teachings could much prevail. Men and women had to be
startled into a sense of the need of their spiritual regenera
tion. Wesley and the comrades who worked with him in
the beginning, and with some of whom, like Whitefield,
he ceased after a while to work, were just the men needed
to call aloud to the people and make sure that their voices
must be heard. They had to talk in a shout if they were
to talk to any purpose. There was much in their style of
eloquence against which a pure and cultured criticism
would naturally protest. But they did not speak for the
pure and cultured criticism. They came to call ignorant
sinners to repentance. They have the one great abiding
VOL. II. — 7

146 HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxx
merit, they have the one enduring fame — that they saw
their real business in life; that they kept to it through
whatever disadvantage, pain, and danger; and that they
accomplished what they had gone out to do. Their monu
ment lives to-day in the living history of England and of
America,

1738. THE PASSION OF WAR. 147

CHAPTER XXXL

" Madam, there are fifty thousand men slain this year
in Europe, and not one Englishman among them." This
was'the proud boast which, as has been already mentioned,
Walpole was able to make to Queen Caroline not very
long before her death, when she was trying to stir him up
to a more agressive policy in the affairs of the Continent.
Walpole's words sound almost like an anticipation of
Prince Bismarck's famous declaration that the Eastern
Question was not worth to Germany the life of a single
Pomeranian grenadier. But Prince Bismarck was more
fortunate than Walpole in his policy of peace. He had
secured a position of advantage for himself in maintaining
that policy which Walpole never had. Prince Bismarck-
had twice over made it clear to all the world that he could
conduct to the most complete success a policy of uncom
promising war. Walpole had all the difficulty in keeping
to his policy of peace which a statesman always has who
is suspected, rightly or wrongly, of a willingness to pur
chase peace at almost any price. It is melancholy to have
to make the statement, but the statement 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
known to love peace is sure to have it shrieked at him in
some crisis that he does not love the honor of his country.
A periodical outbreak of the craving or lust for war seems
to be one of the passions and one of the afflictions of
almost every great commonwealth in Europe. A wise and
just policy may have secured a peace that has lasted for
years; but the mere fact that peace has lasted for years

148 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
seems to many unthinking people reason enough why the
country should be favored with a taste of war. We are
constantly declaring that England is not a military nation,
and yet no statesman is ever so popular for the hour in
England as the statesman who fires the people with the
passion of war. Many a minister, weak and unpopular in
his domestic policy, has suddenly made himself the hero
and the darling of the moment by declaring that some
foreign state has insulted England, and that the time has
come when the sword must be drawn to defend the nation's
honor. Then " away to heaven, respective lenity " indeed!
The appeal acts like a charm to call out the passion and to
silence the reason of vast masses of the population in all
ranks and conditions. Even among the working -classes
and the poor — who, one might imagine, have all to lose
and nothing to gain by war — it is by no means certain
that the war fever will not flame for the hour. There are
seasons when, as Burke has said, "even the humblest of us
are degraded into the vices and follies of kings."
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 now reached he looked with clear
gaze over the European continent, and he saw nothing in
the action of foreign Powers which concerned the honor
and the interest of England enough to make it necessary
for her to draw the sword. But, unfortunately for his
country and for his fame, Walpole was not a statesman of
firm and lofty principle. He was always willing to come
to terms. In the domestic affairs of England he allowed
grievances to exist which he had again and again con
demned and deplored, and which every one knew he was
sincerely desirous to remove; he allowed them to exist
because it might have been a source of annoyance to the
King if the minister had troubled him about such a sub
ject. He acted on this policy with regard to the griev
ances of which the Dissenters complained, and, as ho
always admitted, very justly complained. Much as he de
tested a policy of war, he was not the minister who would

17S8. THE PATRIOTS' WAR-CRY. 149
stand by a policy of peace at the risk of losing his popular
ity and his power. Much as he loved peace, he loved his
place as Prime Minister still more. It is probable that his
enemies gave him credit for greater fixity of purpose in
regard to his peace policy than he really possessed. They
believed, perhaps, that they had only to get up a good,
popular war-cry in England, and that Walpole would have
to go out of offlce. They told themselves that he would
not make war. On this faith they based their schemes
and founded their hopes. It would have been well for
Walpole and for England if their belief had been justified
by events.
The Patriots raised their war-cry. The honor of Eng
land had been insulted. Her claims had been rejected
with insolent scorn. Her flag had been trampled on ; her
seamen had been imprisoned, mutilated, tortured; and all
this by whom? By whom, indeed, but the old and im
placable enemy of England, the Power which had sent
the Armada to invade England's shores and to set up the
Inquisition among the English people — by Spain, of course,
by Spain ! In Spanish dungeons brave Englishmen were
wearing out their lives. In mid-ocean English ships were
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 that England could now be insult
ed with impunity. What wonder, they asked, in patriotic
passion, if Spain or any other foreign state should believe
such things? Was there not a Minister now at the head
of affairs in England, now grasping all the various powers
of the state in his own hands, who was notoriously willing
to put up with any insult, to subject his country to any
degradation, rather than venture on even a remonstrance
that might lead to war ? Let the flag of England be torn
down and trailed in the dust — what then? What cared
the Minister whose only fear was, not of dishonor, but of
danger. This was the fiery stuff which the Patriots kept flood-

150 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
ing the country with; which they poured out in speeches
and pamphlets, and pasquinades and lampoons. Some of
them probably came in the end to believe it all them
selves. Walpole was assailed every hour — he was held
up to public hatred and scorn as if he had betrayed his
country. Bolingbroke from his exile contributed his share
to the literature of blood, and soon came over from his
exile to take a larger share in it. The Craftsman ran
over with furious diatribes against the Minister of Peace,
Caricatures of all kinds represented Walpole abasing him
self before Spain and entering into secret engagements
with her, to the prejudice and detriment of England, Bal
lads were hawked and sung through the streets which de
scribed Walpole as acknowledging to the Spanish Don
that he hated the English merchants and traders just as
much as the Don did, and that he was heartily glad when
Spain applied her rod to them. The country became
roused to the wildest passion ; the Patriots were carry
ing it all their own way.
What was it all about ? What was Spain doing ? V/hat
ought England to do ?
The whole excitement arose out of certain long-stand
ing trade disputes between England and Spain in the New
World. These disputes had been referred to in the Treaty
of Utrecht, which was supposed to have settled them in
• 1713; and again in the Treaty of Seville, which was be
lieved to have finally settled them in 1729. England had
recognized the right of Spain to regulate the trade with
Spanish colonies. Spain agreed that England should have
the privilege of supplying the Spanish colonies with slaves.
This noble privilege English traders exercised to the full.
It is not very gratifying to have to recollect that two of
England's great disputes with Spain were about England's
claim to an unlimited right to sell slaves to the Spanish
colonies. To England, or at least to the English South
Sea Company, was also conceded the permission to send
one merchant vessel each year to the South Seas with as
much English goods to sell to the Spanish colonies as a

1738. THE TREATIES WITH SPAIN. 151
ship of 500 tons could carry. As everybody might have
expected, the provisions of the treaty were constantly
broken through. The English traders were very eager to
sell their goods; the Spanish colonists were very glad to
get them to buy. All other commerce than that in slaves
and the one annual shipload of English goods was strictly
prohibited by Spain. The whole arrangement now seems
in the highest degree artificial and absurd; but it was not
an uncommon sort of international arrangement then. As
was to be expected, the English traders set going a huge
illicit trade in the South Seas. This was done partly by
the old familiar smuggling process, and partly, too, by
keeping little fleets of smaller vessels swarming off the
coasts and reloading the one legitimate vessel as often as
her contents were sent into a port. This ingenious device
was said to have been detected by the Spanish authorities
in various places. The Spaniards retaliated by stopping
and searching English vessels cruising anywhere near the
coast of a Spanish colony, and by arresting and imprison
ing the officers and sailors of English merchantmen. The
Spaniards asserted, and were able in many instances to
make their assertions good, that whole squadrons of Eng
lish trading vessels sometimes entered the Spanish ports
under pretence of being driven there by stress of weather,
or by the need of refitting and refreshing; and that, once
in the port, they managed to get their cargoes safely
ashore. Sometimes, too, it was said, the vessels lay off the
shore without going into the harbor; and then smugglers
came off in their long, low, swift boats, and received the
English goods and carried them into the port. The fact
undoubtedly was that the English merchants were driving
a roaring trade with the Spanish colonies; just as the Span
ish authorities might very well have known that they would
be certain to do. Where one set of men are anxious to
sell, and another set are just as anxious to buy, it needs
very rigorous coastguard watching to prevent the goods
being sent in and the money taken away.
This fact, however, does not say anything against the

152 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
right of Spain to enforce, if she could, the conditions of
the treaties. On that point Spain was only asserting her
indisputable right. But would it be reasonable to expect
that Spain or any other country could endeavor to main
tain her right in such a dispute, and under such conditions,
without occasional rashness, violence, and injustice on the
part of her officials ? There can be no doubt that many
high-handed and arbitrary acts were done against English
subjects by the officers of Spanish authority. On every
real and every reported and every imaginary act of Span
ish harshness the Patriots seized with avidity. They pre
sented petitions, moved for papers, moved that this in
jured person and that be allowed to appear and state his case
at the bar of the House of Commons, Some English sailors
and other Englishmen were thus allowed to appear at the
bar, and did make statements of outrage and imprison
ment. Some of these statements were doubtless true,
some were probably exaggerated; the men who made them
were not on oath ; there was every temptation to exagger
ate, because it had become apparently the duty of every
true Patriot who loved old England to believe anything
said by anybody against Spain. The same sort of thing
has happened again and again in times nearer to our own,
where some class of English traders have been trying to
carry on a forbidden traffic with the subjects of a foreign
sovereign. We see the same things, now in China, and
now in Burmah ; dress goods in one place, opium in an
other, slaves in another; reckless smuggling by the trad
ers, overdone reprisals by the authorities; and then we
hear the familiar appeal to England not to allow her sons
to be insulted and imprisoned by some insolent foreign
Power. Walpole was not inclined to allow English subjects to
be molested with impunity. But he saw no reason to be
lieve that Spain intended anything of the kind. The ad
vices he received from the British Minister at the Spanish
Court spoke rather of delays and slow formalities, and
various small disputes and misunderstandings, than of wil-

1738. ALDERMAN PERRY'S MOTION. 153
ful denial of justice. Walpole felt satisfied that by put
ting a little diplomatic pressure on the proceedings every
satisfaction fairly due to England and English subjects
could be obtained. He, therefore, refused for a long time
to allow his hand to be forced by the Opposition, and was
full of hope that the good sense of the country in general
would sustain him against the united strength of his ene
mies, as it had so often done before.
Walpole did not know how strong his enemies were
this time. He did not know what a capital cry they had
got, what a powerful appeal to national passion they
could put into voice, and what a loud reply the national
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 British plantations in America. The
petition was presented by Mr. Perry, one of the representa
tives of London, and an alderman of the City. The petition
set forth a long history of the alleged grievances, and of the
denial of redress, and prayed the House to " provide such
timely and adequate remedy for putting an end to all in
sults and depredations on them and their fellow-subjects
as to the House shall seem meet, as well as procure such
relief for the unhappy sufferers as the nature of the case
and the justice of their cause may require; and that they
may be heard by themselves and counsel thereupon."
On the same day several other petitions from cities, and
from private individuals, were presented on the same sub
ject. The debate on Mr. Perry's motion mainly turned, at
first, on the minor question, whether the house would ad
mit the petitioners to be heard by themselves and also by
counsel, or, according to the habit of the House, by them
selves or counsel. Yet, short and almost formal as the
debate might have been, the opponents of the Government
contrived to import into it a number of assumptions, and
an amount of passion, such as the earlier stages of a diffi
cult and delicate international dispute are seldom allowed
to exhibit. Even so cautious and respectable a man as Sir

154 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxi.
John Barnard, a typical English merchant of the highest
class, did not hesitate to speak of the grievances as if they
were all established and admitted, and the action of Spain
as a wilful outrage upon the trade, the honor, and the
safety of Great Britain. Walpole argued that the peti
tioners should be heard by themselves and not by counsel;
but the main object of his speech was to appeal to the
the House " not to work upon the passions where the head
is to be informed." Mr. Robert Wilmot thereupon arose,
and replied in an or.ition belonging to that " spread-eagle "
order which is familiar to American political controversy.
"Talk of working on the passions," this orator exclaimed;
" can any man's passions be wound up to a greater height,
can any man's indignation be more raised, than every free-
born Briton's must be when he reads a letter which I have
received this morning, and which I have now in my hand ?
This letter, sir, gives an account that seventy of our brave
sailors are now in chains in Spain. Our countrymen in
chains, and slaves to Spaniards ! Is not this enough to
fire the coldest ? Is not this enough to rouse all the ven
geance of a national resentment? Shall we sit here de
bating about words and forms while the sufferings of our
countrymen call out loudly for redress ?"
Pulteney himself, when speaking on the general ques
tion, professed, indeed, not to assume the charges in the
petitions to be true before they had been established, but
he proceeded to deal with them on something very like
a positive assumption that they would be established.
Thereupon he struck the key-note of the whole outcry that
was to be j-aised against the Ministry. Could any one be
lieve, he indignantly asked, that the Court of Spain " would
have presumed to trifle in such a manner with any ministry
but one which they thought wanted either courage or incli
nation to resent such treatment?" Ho accused the Ministry
of "a scandalous breach of duty "and "the most infamous
pusillanimity." Later in the same day Sir John Barnard
moved an Address to the Crown, asking for papers to be
laid before the House. Walpole did not actually oppose

1738. AN UNLUCKY ARGUMENT. 155
the motion, and only suggested a modification of it, but he
earnestly entreated the House not, at that moment, to press
the Sovereign for a publication of the latest despatches.
He went so far as to let tho House understand that the
latest reply from Spain was not satisfactory, and that it
might be highly injurious to the prospects of peace if it
were then to be given to the world; and he pointed to the
obvious fact that " when once a paper is read in this
House the contents of it cannot be long a secret to the
world." The King, he said, had still good hopes of being
able to prevail on Spain to make an honorable and ample
reparation for any wrongs that might have been done to
Englishmen. " We ought," Walpole pleaded, " to wait, at
least, till his Majesty shall tell us from the throne that all
hopes of obtaining satisfaction are over. Then it will be
time enough to declare for a war with Spain." Unfortu
nately, Walpole went on to a mode of argument which
was, of all others, the best calculated to give his enemies
an advantage over him. His language was strong and
clear; his sarcasm was well merited; but the time was
not suited for an appeal to such very calm common-sense
as that to which the great minister was trying in vain to
address himself. " The topic of national resentment for
national injury affords," Walpole said, " a fair field for dec
lamation ; and, to hear gentlemen speak on that head, one
would be apt to believe that victory and glory are bound
to attend the resolutions of our Parliament and the efforts
of our arms. But gentlemen ought to reflect that there
are many instances in the history of the world, and some
in the annals of England, which prove that conquest is not
always inseparable from the justest cause or most exalted
courage." The hearts of the Patriots must have rejoiced when they
heard such an argument from the lips of Walpole. For
what did it amount to ? Only this — that this un-English
Minister, this unworthy servant of the crown, positively
admitted into his own mind the idea that there was any
possibility of England's being worsted in any war with

156 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
any state or any number of states! Fancy any one al
lowing such a thought to remain for an instant in his
mind! As if it were not a settled thing, specially arranged
by Providence, that one Englishman is a match for at
least any six Spaniards, Frenchmen, or other contemptible
foreigners! Walpole's great intellectual want was the
lack of imagination. If he had possessed more imagina
tion, he would have been not only a greater orator, but a
greater debater. He would have seen more clearly the
effect of an argument on men with minds and tempera
ments unlike his own. In this particular instance the
appeal to what he would have considered cool common-
sense was utterly damaging to him. Pulteney pounced
on him at once. "From longer forbearance," he exclaimed,
"we have everything to fear; from acting vigorously we
have everything to hope." He admitted that a war with
Spain was to be avoided, if it could be avoided with honor;
but, he asked, " will it ever be the opinion of an English
statesman that, in order to avoid inconvenience, we are to
embrace a dishonor ? Where is the brave man," he de
manded, "who in a just cause will submissively lie down
under insults ? No ! — in such a case he will do all that
prudence and necessity dictate in order to procure satis
faction, and leave the rest to Providence." Pulteney
spoke with undisguised contempt of the sensitive honor
of the Spanish people. " I do not see," he declared — and
this was meant as a keen personal thrust at Walpole —
" how we can comply with the form of Spanish punctilio
without sacrificing some of the essentials of British honor.
Let gentlemen but consider whether our prince's and our
country's honor is not as much engaged to revenge our
injuries as the honor of the Spaniards can be to support
their insolence." There never, probably, was a House of
Commons so cool-headed and cautious as not to be stirred
out of reason and into passion by so well - contrived an
appeal. The appeal was followed up by others. " Per
haps," Sir William Wyndham said, "if we lose the char
acter of being good fighters, we shall at least gain that

1738. WYNDHAM'S TAUNTS. 157
of being excellent negotiators." But he would not leave
to Walpole the full benefit of even that doubtful change
of character, "The character of a mere negotiator," he
insisted, "had never been affected by England without
her losing considerable, both in her interest at home and
her influence abroad. This truth will appear plainly to
any one who compares tho figure this nation rnade in
Europe under Queen Elizabeth with the figure she made
under her successor. King James the First, The first
never treated with an insulting enemy; the other never
durst break with a treacherous friend. The first thought
it her glory to command peace; the other thought it no
dishonor to beg it. In her reign every treaty was crowned
with glory; in his no peace was attended with tranquillity;
in short, her care was to improve, his to depress the true
British spirit." Even the cool-headed and wise Sir John
Barnard cried out that " a dishonorabl6 peace is worse
than a destructive war."
We need not go through all the series of debates in the
Lords and Commons. It is enough to say that every one
of these debates made the chances of a peaceful arrange
ment grow less and less. The impression of the Patriots
seemed to be that Walpole was to be held responsible for
every evasion, every delay, every rash act, and every
denial of justice on the part of Spain. With this con
viction, it was clear to them that the more they attacked
the Spanish Government the more they attacked and dam
aged Walpole. Full of this spirit, therefore, they launched
out in every debate about Spanish treachery, and Spanish
falsehood, and Spanish cruelty, and Spanish religious faith
in a manner that might have seemed deliberately designed
to render a peaceful settlement of any question impossible
between England and Spain. Yet we do not believe that
the main object of the Patriots was to force England into
a war with Spain. Their main object was to force Wal
pole out of office. They were for a long time under the
impression that he would resign rather than make war.
Once he resigned, the Patriots would very soon abate

158 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
their war fury, and try whether the quarrel might not be
settled in peace with honor. But they had allowed them
selves to be driven too far along the path of war; and
they had not taken account of the fact that tbe great peace
Minister might, after all, prefer staying in office and mak
ing war to going out of office and leaving some rival to
make it.
Suddenly there came to the aid of the Patriots and
their policy the portentous story of Captain Jenkins and
his ear. Captain Jenkins had sailed on board his vesselj
the liebecca, from Jamaica for London, and off' 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 the Spanish officers had him hanged up
at the yard-arm and cut down when he was half -dead;
that they slashed at his head with their cutlasses and
hacked his left ear nearly off ; and that, to complete the
measure of their outrages, one of them actually tore off
his bleeding ear, flung it in his face, and bade him carry
it home to his king and tell him what had been done. To
this savage order Jenkins reported that he was ready with
a reply: " I commend," he said, " my soul to God, and my
cause to my country " — a very eloquent and telling little
sentence, which gives good reason to think of what Jen
kins could have done after preparation in the House of
Commons if he could throw off such rhetoric unprepared,
and in spite of the disturbing effect of having just been
half -hanged and much mutilated. Jenkins showed, indeed,
remarkable presence of mind in every way. He prudently
brought homo the severed ear with him, and invited all
patriotic Englishmen to look at it. Scepticism itself could
not, for a while at all events, refuse to believe that the
Spaniards had cut off Jenkins's ear, when, behold ! there
was the ear itself to tell the story. Later on, indeed. Scep
ticism did begin to assert herself. Were there not other
ways, it was asked, by which Englishmen might have lost
an ear as well as by the fury of the hateful Spaniards?

1738. WALPOLE ALMOST ALONE. 159
Were there not British pillories ? Whether Jenkins sac
rificed his ear to the cause of his country abroad or to the
criminal laws of his country at home, it seems to be quite
settled now that his story was a monstrous exaggeration,
if not a pure invention. Burke has distinctly stigmatized
it as " the fable of Jenkins's ear." The fable, however, did
its work for that time. It was eagerly caught up and be
lieved in ; people wanted to believe in it, and the ear was
splendid evidence. The mutilation of Jenkins played much
the same part in England that the fabulous insult of the
King of Prussia to the French envoy played in the France
of 1870. The eloquence of Pulteney, the earnestness of
Wyndham, the intriguing genius of Bolingbroke, seemed
only to have been agencies to prepare the way for the tri
umph of Jenkins and his severed ear. The outcry all over
the country began to make Walpole feel at last that some
thing would have to be done. His own constitutional poli
cy came against him in this difficulty. He had broken the
power of the House of Lords and had strengthened that
of the House of Commons. The hereditary Chamber
might perhaps be relied upon to stand firmly against a
popular clamor, but it would be impossible to expect such
firmness at such a time from an elective assembly of al
most any sort. In this instance, however, Walpole found
himself Averse off in the House of Lords than even in the
House of Commons. The House of Lords was stimulated
by the really powerful eloquence of Carteret and of Ches
terfield, and there was no man on the ministerial side of
the House who could stand up Avith any effect against
such accomplished and unscrupulous political gladiators.
Walpole appealed to the Parliament not to take any
step which Avould render a peaceful settlement impossi
ble, and he promised to make the most strenuous efforts
to obtain a prompt consideration of England's claims.
He set to work energetically for this purpose. His diffi
culties were greatly increased by the unfriendly conduct
of the Spanish envoy, who Avas on terms of confidence
with the Patriots, and went about everywhere declaring

160 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
that Walpole was trying to deceive the English people as
well as the Spanish Government. It must have needed all
Walpole's strength of will to sustain him against so many
difficulties and so many enemies at such a crisis. It had
not been his way to train up statesmen to help him in his
work, and now he stood almost alone.
The negotiations were further complicated by the dis
putes between England and Spain as to the right of Eng
lish traders to cut logwood in Campeaehy Bay, and as to
the settlement of the boundaries of the new English col
onies of Florida and Carolina in North America, and the
rival claims of England and Spain to this or that strip
of border territory. Sometimes, however, when an inter
national dispute has to be glossed over, rather than set
tled, to the full satisfaction of either party, it is found a
convenient thing for diplomatists to have a great many
subjects of disputation wrapped up in one arrangement.
Walpole was sincerely anxious to give Spain a last chance ;
but the Spanish people, on their side, were stirred to bit
terness and to passion by the vehement denunciations of
the' English Opposition. Even then, when daily papers
were little known to the population of either London or
Madrid, people in London and in Madrid did somehow get
to know that there had been fierce exchange of interna
tional dislike and defiance. Walpole, hoAvever, still clung
to his policy of peace, and his influence in the House of
Commons was commanding enough to get his proposals
accepted there. In the House of Lords the Ministry were
nowhere in debate. Something, indeed, should be said
for Lord Hervey, who had been raised to the Upper House
as Baron Hervey of Ickworth in 1733, and who made some
speeches full of clear good-sense and sound moderating
argument in support of Walpole's policy. But Carteret
and Chesterfield would have been able in any case to
overwhelm the Duke of Newcastle, and the Duke of New
castle now was turning traitor to Walpole. Stupid as
Newcastle was, he was beginning to see that the day of
Walpole's destiny Avas nearly over, and he was taking

1739. THE CONVENTION. 161
measures to act accordingly. All that Newcastle could
do as Secretary for Foreign Affairs was done to make
peace impossible.
Walpole thought the time had fully come when it
Avould be right for him to show that, while still striving
for peace, he was not unprepared for war. He sent a
squadron of line-of-battle ships to the Mediterranean and
several cruisers to the West Indies, and he allowed letters
of marque to be issued. These demonstrations had the
effect of making the Spanish Government someAvhat low
er their tone — at least they had the effect of making that
Government seem more willing to come to terms. Long
negotiations as to the amount of claim on the one side
and of set-off on the other were gone into both in London
and Madrid. We need not study the figures, for nothing
came of the proposed arrangement. It was impossible
that anything could come of it. England and Spain were
quarrelling over several great international questions.
Even these questions were themselves only symbolical of
a still greater one, of a paramount question which Avas
never put into words : the question whether England or
Spain was to have the ascendent in the new world across
the Atlantic. Walpole and the Spanish Government
drew up an arrangement, or rather professed to find a
basis of arrangement, for the paying off of certain money
claims. A convention was agreed upon, and was signed
on January 14, 1739. The convention arranged that a
certain sum of money was to be paid by Spain to England
within a given time, but that this discharge of claims
should not extend to any dispute between the King of
Spain and tho South Sea Company as holders of the
Asiento Contract; and that two plenipotentiaries from
each side should meet at Madrid to settle the clainis of
England and Spain with regard to the rights of trade in
the New World and the boundaries of Carolina and Flor
ida. This convention, it Avill be seen, left the really im
portant subjects of dispute exactly where they were be
fore.

162 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxi.
Such as it was, hoAvever, it had hardly been signed be
fore the diplomatists were already squabbling over the
extent and interpretation of its terms, and mixing it up
with the attempted arrangement of other and older dis
putes. Parliament opened on February 1,1739, and the
speech from the throne told of the convention arranged
with Spain. " It is now," said the Royal speech, " a great
satisfaction to me that I am able to acquaint you that the
measures I have pursued have had so good an effect that
a convention is concluded and ratified between me and
the King of Spain, whereby, upon consideration had of
the demands on both sides, that prince hath obliged him
self to make reparation to my subjects for their losses by
a certain stipulated payment; and plenipotentiaries are
therein named and appointed for redressing within a lim
ited time all those grievances and abuses which have
hitherto interrupted our commerce and navigation in the
American seas, and for settling all matters in dispute in
such a manner as may for the future prevent and remove
all new causes and pretences of complaint by a strict ob
servance of our mutual treaties and a just regard to the
rights and privileges belonging to each other." The King
promised that the convention should be laid before the
House at once.
Before the terms of the convention were fully in the
knowledge of Parliament, there was already a strong dis
satisfaction felt among the leading men of the Opposition.
We need not set this down to the mere determination of
implacable partisans not to be content with anything pro
posed or executed by the Ministers of the Crown. Sir
John Barnard was certainly no implacable partisan iu that
sense. He was really a true-hearted and patriotic Eng
lishman. Yet Sir John Barnard was one of the very first
to predict that the convention would be found utterly
unsatisfactory. There is nothing surprising in the pro-
diction. The King's own speech, which n.aturally made
the best of things, left it evident that no important and
international question had been touched by the conven-

1739. PETITION AGAINST THE CONVENTION. 163
tion. Every dispute over which Avar might have to be
made remained in just the same state after the conven
tion as before. Lord Carteret in the House of Lords
boldly assumed that the convention must be unsatisfac
tory, and even degrading, to the English people, and he
denounced it with all the eloquence and all the vigor of
which he Avas capable. Lord Hervey vainly appealed to
the House to bear in mind that the convention was not
yet before them. " Let us read it," he urged, " before we
condemn it." Vain, indeed, was the appeal ; tho conven
tion Avas already condemned. The very description of it
in the speech from the throne had condemned it in ad
vance. The convention Avas submitted to Parliament and made
known to the country. The reception it got was just
what might have been expected. The one general cry
was that the agreement gave up or put aside every serious
claim made by England. Spain had not renounced her
right of search ; the boundaries of England's new colonies
had not been defined ; not a promise was made by Spain
that the Spanish officials Avho had imprisoned and tortured
unoffending British subjects should be punished, or even
brought to any manner of trial. In the heated temper of
the public the whole convention seemed an inappropriate
and highly offensive farce. On February 23d the sheriffs
of the City of London presented to the House of Com
mons a petition against the convention. The petition
expressed the great concern and surprise of the citizens
of London " to find by the convention lately concluded
between his Majesty and the King of Spain that the
Spaniards are so far from giving up their (as we humbly
apprehend) unjust pretension of a right to visit and search
our ships on the seas of America that this pretension of
theirs is, among others, referred to the future regulation
and decision of plenipotentiaries appointed on each side,
whereby we apprehend it is in some degree admitted."
The petition referred to the " cruel treatment of the Eng
lish sailors whose hard fate has thrown them into the

164 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
hands of the Spaniards," and added, with a curious mixt
ure of patriotic sentiment and practical, business-like self
ishness, that " if this cruel treatment of English seamen
were to be put up with, and no reparation demanded, it
might have the effect" — of Avhat, does the reader think ? —
" of deterring the seamen from undertaking voyages to
the seas of America Avithout an advance of wages, which
that trade or any other will not be able to support."
The same petition was presented to the House of Lords
by the Duke of Bedford. Lord Carteret moved that the
petitioners should be heard by themselves, and, if they
should desire it, by counsel. It was agreed, after some
debate, that the petitioners should be heard by themselves
in the first instance, and that if afterwards they desired
to be heard by counsel their request should be taken into
consideration. Lord Chesterfield in the course of the de
bate contrived ingeniously to give a keen stroke to the
convention while declaring that he did not presume as
yet to form any opinion on it, or to anticipate any discus
sion on its merits. " I cannot help," he said, " saying, hoAv-
ever, that to me it is a most unfavorable symptom of its
being for the good of the nation when I see so strong
an oj)position made to it out-of-doors by those who are
the most immediately concerned in its effects."
A debate of great interest, animation, and importance
took place in the House of Lords when the convention was
laid before that assembly. The Earl of Cholmondeley
moved that an address be presented to the King to thank
him for having concluded the convention. The address
was drawn up by a very dexterous hand, a master-hand.
Its terms were such as might have conciliated the leaders
of the Opposition, if indeed these were to be conciliated
by anything short of Walpole's resignation, for, while the
address approved of all that had been done thus far, it
cleverly assumed that all this was but the preliminary to
a real settlement ; and by ingenuously expressing the en
tire reliance of the House on the King's taking care that
proper provision should be made for the redress of various

1789. CARTERET'S ATTACK. 165
specified grievances, it succeeded in making it quite clear
that in the opinion of the House such provision had not
yet been made. The address concluded most significantly
with an assurance to the King that " in case your Majes
ty's just expectations shall not be answered, this House
will heartily and zealously concur in all such measures as
shall be necessary to vindicate your Majesty's honor, and
to preserve to your subjects the full enjoyment of all
those rights to which they are entitled by treaty and the
Law of Nations." An address of this kind Avould seem
one that might Avell have been moved as an amendment
to a ministerial address, and understood to be obliquely a
vote of censure on the advisers of the Crown. It seems
the sort of address that Carteret might have moved and
Chesterfield seconded. Carteret and Chesterfield opposed
it with spirit and eloquence. " Upon your Lordships' be
havior to-day," said Carteret at the close of a bitter and
a passionate attack upon the Ministry and the conven
tion, " depends the fate of the British Empire, , . . This
nation has hitherto maintained her independence by main
taining her commerce ; but if either is weakened the other
must fail. It is by her commerce that she has been hith
erto enabled to stand her ground against all the open and
secret attacks of the enemies to her religion, liberties, and
constitution. It is from commerce, my Lords, that I be
hold your Lordships within these walls, a free, an inde
pendent assembly ; but, should any considerations influ
ence your Lordships to give so fatal a wound to the
interest and honor of this kingdom as your agreeing to
this address, it is the last time I shall have occasion to
trouble this House. For, my Lords, if we are to meet
only to give a sanction to measures that overthrow all
our rights, I should look upon it as a misfortune for me
to be either accessary or witness to such a compliance. I
will not only repeat what the merchants told your Lord
ships — that their trade is ruined — I will go further; I
will say the nobility is ruined, the whole nation is undone.
For I can call this treaty nothing else but a mortgage of

166 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. sxxi.
your honor, a surrender of your liberties." Such language
may now seem too overAvrought and extravagant to have
much effect upon an assembly of practical men. But it
was not language likely to be considered overwrought
and extravagant at that time and during that crisis. The
Opposition had positively worked themselves into the be
lief that if the convention were accepted the last day of
England's strength, prosperity, and glory had come. Car
teret, besides, was talking to the English public as well as
to the House of Lords. He knew what he meant when
he denounced the enemies of England's religion as Avell as
the enemies of England's trade. The imputation was that
the Minister himself was a secret confederate of the ene
mies of the national religion as well as the enemies of the
national trade. Men who but a few short years before
were secretly engaged in efforts at a Stuart restoration,
which certainly would not be an event much in harmonj"'
Avith the spread of the Protestant faith in England, were
now denouncing Walpole every day on the ground that
he was caballing with Catholic Spain, the Spain of Philip
the Second, the Spain of the Armada and the Inquisition,
the implacable enemy of England's national religion.
The Duke of Argyle made a most vehement speech
against the proposed address. He dealt a sharp blow
against the Ministry when he declared that the whole con
vention Avas a French and not a Spanish measure. He
said he should never be persuaded that fear of aught that
could be done by Spain could have induced ministers to
accept "this thing you call a convention." "It is the in
terest of France that our navigation and commerce should
be ruined , Ave are the only people in the world whom
France has reason to be apprehensive of in America, and
every advantage that Spain gains in point of commerce is
gained for her. ... So far as I can judge from the tenor
of our late behavior, our dread of France has been the
spring of all our weak and ruinous measures. To this
dread Ave have sacrificed the most distinguishing hon
ors of this kingdom. This dread of France has changed

1739. ARGYLE'S ANECDOTE. 167
every maxim of right government among us. There is no
measure for the advantage of this kingdom that has been
set on foot for these many years to which she has not
given a negative. There is no measure so much to our
detriment into which she has not led us." He scornful
ly declared that Avhat the reasons of ministers might be
for this pusillanimity he could not tell, "for, my Lords,
though I am a privy councillor I am as unacquainted
Avith the secrets of the Government as any private gentle
man that hears me." Then he told an anecdote of the
late Lord Peterborough. "When Lord Peterborough
AA'as asked by a friend one day his opinion of a certain
measure, says my lord, in some surprise, ' This is the
first time I ever heard of it.' 'Impossible,' says the
other ; ' Avhy, you are a privy councillor.' ' So I am,'
replies his lordship, 'and there is a Cabinet councillor
coming up to us just now; if you ask the same question
of him he will perhaps hold his peace, and then you Avill
think he is in the secret; but if he opens once his mouth
about it you Avill find he knows as little of it as I do.'
No, my Lords," exclaimed the Duke of Argyle, "it is not
being in Privy Council or in Cabinet Council ; one must
be in the Minister's counsel to know the true motives of
our late proceedings." The duke concluded his oration,
characteristically, with a glorification of his own honest
and impartial heart.
The address Avas sure to be carried; Walpole's influence
Avas still strong enough to accomplish that much. But ev
erybody must already have seen that the convention was
not an instrument capable of satisfying, or, indeed, framed
Avith any notion of satisfying, the popular demands of
England. It was an odd sort of arrangement, partly in
ternational and partly personal; an adjustment, or at
tempted adjustment here of a dispute between States, and
there of a dispute between rival trading companies. The
reconstituted South Sea Company — which had now be
come one of the three great trading companies of Eng
land, the East India Company and the Bank being the

168 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxi.
Other tAVO — had all manner of negotiations, arrangements,
and transactions with the King of Spain. All these af
fairs now became mixed up Avith the national claims, and
were dealt with alike in the convention. The British
plenipotentiary at the Spanish Court was — still further to
complicate matters — the agent for the South Sea Com
pany. The convention provided that certain set-off claims
of Spain should be taken into consideration as Avell as
the claims of England. Spain had some demands against
England for the value of certain vessels of the Spanish
navy attacked and captured during the reign of George
the First Avithout a declaration of war. The claim had
been admitted in principle by England, and it became
what would be called in the law courts only a question of
damages. Then the convention contained some stipula
tions concerning certain claims of Spain upon the South
Sea Company; that is, on what was, after all, only a pri
vate trading company. When the anomaly was pointed
out by Lord Carteret and others in the House of Lords,
and it was asked how came it that the English plenipo
tentiary at the Court of Spain was also the agent of the
South Sea Company, it was ingeniously answered on the
part of the Government that nothing could be more fit
ting and proper, seeing that, as English plenipotentiary,
he had to act for England Avith the King of Spain, and as
agent for the South Sea Company to deal Avith the same
sovereign in that sovereign's capacity as a great private
merchant. Therefore the national claims Avere made, to a
certain extent, subservient to, or dependent on, the claims
of the South Sea Company, Whether we may think the
claims of the English merchants and seamen were exag
gerated or not, one thing is obvious: they could not pos
sibly be satisfied under such a convention.
The debate in the House of Lords was carried on by
the Opposition Avith great spirit and brilliancy. Lord
Hervey defended the policy of the Government with dex
terity. Possibly he made as much of the case as could
be made of it. Tho motion for the address Avas carried

1739. THE PRINCE'S FIRST VOTE. 169
by seventy-one votes against fifty-eight — a marked in
crease of strength on the part of the Opposition. It is to
be recorded that the Prince of Wales gave his first vote
in Parliament to support the Opposition. The name of
"His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales" is the first in
the division list of the peers who voted against the ad
dress and in favor of the policy of war. There was noth
ing very mutinous in Frederick's action so far as the King
was concerned. Very likely Frederick would have given
the same vote, no matter what the King's views on the
subject. But every one knew that George was eager for
war, that he was fully convinced of his capacity to win
laurels on the battle-field, and that he was longing to wear
them. A Bonaparte prince of our own day was described
by a French literary man as an unemployed Caesar. King
George believed himself an unemployed Caesar, and was
clamorous for early employment.

170 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.

CHAPTER XXXII.
WALPOLE YIELDS TO WAE.
The nation was plunging, not drifting, into war. Wal
pole himself, while still striving hard to put off any deci
sive step, and even yet perhaps hoping against hope that
the people would return to their senses and leave the
Patriots to themselves, did not venture any longer to
meet the demands of the Opposition by bold argument
founded on the principles of justice and wisdom. He had
sometimes to talk the same " tall talk " as that in which
the Patriots delighted, and to rave a little about the great
deeds that would have to be done if Spain did not lis
ten to reason very soon. But he still pleaded that Spain
would listen to reason soon, very soon, and that if war
must come sooner or later he preferred to take it later.
That, it need hardly be said, Avas not Walpole's expres
sion — it belongs to a later day — but it represents his mode
of argument.
On March 6th the House of Commons met for the pur
pose of taking the foredoomed convention into considera
tion. So intense was the interest taken in the subject, so
highly strung was political feeling, that more than four
hundred members were in their places at eight o'clock in
the morning. Seldom indeed is anxiety expressed in so
emphatic and conclusive a form among members of the
House of Commons. Readers may remember one day
within recent years when a measure of momentous impor
tance 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, and spent the Avhole

1739. HORATIO WALPOLE'S PREDICTION. l7l
day in hearing some of the merchants and other witnesses
against the convention. The whole of the next day (Wed
nesday) was occupied in the reading of documents bearing
on the subject, and it was not until Thursday that the de
bate began. The debate was more memorable for what
followed it than for itself. In itself it was the familiar
succession of fierce and unscrupulous attacks on the policy
of peace, mixed up with equally fierce but certainly very
well -deserved attacks on the character of the conven
tion. William Pitt wound up his speech by declaring that
" this convention, I think from my soul, is nothing but a
stipulation for national ignominy; an illusory expedient
to baffle the resentment of the nation ; a truce without a
suspension of hostilities on the part of Spain ; on the part
of England a suspension, as to Georgia, of the first law
of nature, self-preservation and self-defence; a surrender
of the rights and the trade of England to the mercy of
plenipotentiaries, and, in this infinitely highest and sacred
point, future security, not only inadequate, but directly
repugnant to the resolutions of Parliament and the gra
cious promise from the throne. The complaints of your
despairing merchants, the voice of England, have con
demned it ; be the guilt of it upon the head of its adviser !
God forbid that this committee should share the guilt by
approving it !"
One point in the debate is worthy of notice. The ad
dress to the King approving of the convention was
moved by Horatio Walpole, the diplomatist, brother of
Sir Robert. In the course of his speech Horatio Walpole
declared that the outbreak of war between England and
any great continental State would be certain to be follow
ed by a new blow struck by the Pretender and his fol
lowers. Some of the orators of Opposition spoke with
immense scorn of the possibility of a Jacobite movement
ever again being heard of in England. The Walpoles
both generally understood pretty well what they were
talking about. The prediction of Horatio Walpole came
true.

172 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxii.
The address was carried by 260 against 232. The
ministerial majority had run down to 28. Next day the
battle was renewed. According to parliamentary usage,
the report of the address was brought up, and Pulteney
seized, the opportunity to make another vehement attack
on the convention and the ministers. He accused the
Prime - minister of meanly stooping to the dictates of a
haughty, insolent Court, and of bartering away the lives
and liberties of Englishmen for " a sneaking, temporary,
disgraceful expedient." But the interest of the day was
to come. The address was agreed to by a majority of
262 against 234. This Avas exactly the same majority as
before, only with both sides slightly strengthened. Then
the principal leaders of Opposition thought the time had
come for them to intervene with a deliberately planned
coup de th'edtre. Acting, it is understood, under the ad
vice of Bolingbroke, they had been looking out for an
opportunity to secede from the House of Commons on
the ground that it was vain for patriotic men to try to
do their duty to their country in a House of which the
majority, narrow though it AA^as, Avas yet the absolute
slave of such a minister as Walpole. They hoped that
such a step would have two effects. It would, they be
lieved, create an immense sensation all over England and
make them the heroes of the hour; and they, fondly
hoped that it would scare Walpole, and prevent him from
passing in their absence the measures which their pres
ence was unable to prevent. Such, we have no doubt,
were the ideas of Bolingbroke and of Pulteney and of
others ; but Ave do not say that they were the ideas of
the man who Avas intrusted with the duty of announcing
the intentions of his party. This was Sir William .Wynd
ham ; and we do not believe that any hope of being 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 one of them. Wyndham rose, and iu^ a
speech of great solemnity announced that he was about
to pay his last duty to his country as a member of that

1739. THE SECESSION. l73
House. What hope, he asked, was there when the elo
quence of one man had so great an effect within the walls
of the House of Commons, and the unanimous voice of a
brave, suffering people without had so little? He im
plied that the majority of the House must have been de
termined "by arguments that we have not heard." He
bade an adieu to Parliament. " Perhaps," he said, " when
another Parliament shall succeed, I may again be at lib
erty to serve my country in the same capacity." In
other words, if the next Parliament should declare war
on Spain after having got rid of Walpole, then Wyndham
and his friends might be prevailed on to return. " I
therefore appeal to a future, free, uninfluenced Parlia
ment. Let it be the judge of my conduct and that of my
friends on this occasion. Meantime I shall conclude with
doing that duty to my country which I am still at liberty
to perform — which is to pray for its preservation. May,
therefore, that Power Avhich has so often and so visibly
before interposed on behalf of the rights and liberties of
this nation continue its care over us at this worst and
most dangerous juncture; while the insolence of enemies
without, and the influence of corruption within, threaten
the ruin of her Constitution."
This speech created, as will readily be imagined, an im
mense sensation in the House. A member of the Admin
istration, one of the Pelhams, lost his head so complete-.
ly that he sprang up with the intention of moving that
Wyndham be committed to the Tower. Walpole, who
Avas not in the habit of losing his head, prevented the
ardent Pelhani from carrying out his purpose. Walpole
knew quite well that something better could be done
than to evoke for any of the Patriots the antiquated ter
rors of the Tower. Walpole delivered a speech Avhich,
for its suppressed passion and its stern severity, was well
equal to the occasion. The threat of Wyndham and his
friends gave him, he said, no uneasiness. The friends of
the Parliament and the nation were obliged to them for
pulling off the mask — "We can be upon our guard

174 A HISTOKY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. CH. xxxil.
asainst open rebellion ; it is hard to guard against secret
treason." "The faction I speak of never sat m this
House, they never joined in any public measure of the
Government but with a view to distress it and to serve a
Popish interest." Walpole was delighted to have an op
portunity of paying off the Opposition for their constant
denunciations of his alleged subservience to the throne of
France, by flinging in Wyndham's teeth 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 the head of those traitors who, twenty -five years
ago, conspired the destruction of their country and of the
royal family to set a Popish Pretender on the throne.
He was seized by the vigilance of the then Government
and pardoned by its clemency, but all the use he has
ungratefully made of that clemency has been to qualify
himself according to law, that he and his party may some
time or other have an opportunity to overthrow all law."
For himself, Walpole declared he was only afraid that
the gentlemen would not be as good as their word, and
that they would return to Parliament. "For I remem
ber," he said, " that in the case of their favorite prelate
who was impeached of treason" — Atterbury— "the same
gentleman and his faction made the same resolution.
They then went off like traitors as they were ; but their
.retreat had not the detestable effect they expected and
wished, and therefore they rerurned. Ever since they have
persevered in the same treasonable intention of serving
that interest by distressing the Government."
The House broke up in wild excitement ; such excite
ment as had not been known there since the Excise Bill
or the South Sea Bubble. About sixty of the Opposition
kept for the time their promise of secession. Sir John
Barnard, and two or three other men of mark in the
party, had the good - sense to see that they could serve
their cause, Avhatever it might be, better by remaining at
their posts than by withdrawing from public life. The
secession of a party from the House of Commons can

1789. THE POLICY OF SECESSION. 175
hardly ever be anything but a mistake. We are speak
ing now, of course, of a secession more serious and pro
longed than that which concerns a particular stage of
some measure. There have been occasions when the
party in Opposition, after having fought their best
against some obnoxious measure in all its former stages,
and finding that further struggle would be unavailing,
consider that they can make their protest more effect
ively, and draw public attention more directly to the
nature of the controversy, by withdrawing in a body
from the House of Commons, and leaving the Govern
ment alone with their responsibility. Such a course as
this has been taken more than once in our oAvn days. It
can do no practical harm to the public interest, and it
may do some service as a political demonstration. But
a genuine secession, a prolonged secession, must, in the
nature of things, do harm. It is wrong in principle ; for
a man is elected to the House of Commons in order that
he may represent his constituents and maintain their in
terests there.. To do that is his plain duty and business,
Avhich is not to be put away for the sake of indulging in
any petulant or romantic impulse to withdraw from an
assembly because one cannot have one's way there. No
matter how small the minority on one side of the ques
tion, we have seen over and over again what work of
political education may be done by a resolute few who
will not cease to put forward their arguments and to
fight for their cause.
In the case with which we are now dealing Wyndham
and his friends only gratified Walpole by their unwise
course of action. They enabled him to get through
some of the work of the session smoothly and easily. A
division hardly ever was known, and of some debates on
really important questions there is positively no record.
There Avas, for instance, a motion made in the House of
Commons on March 30th for leave to bring in a Bill " to
repeal so much of an Act passed in the 25th of King
Charles the Second, entitled An Act for preventing

176 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxii.
Dangers which may happen from Popish Recusants, as
obligeth all persons who are admitted to any office, civil
or military, to receive the Sacrament of the Lord's Sup
per within a time limited by the said Act; and for ex
plaining and amending so much of the said Act as relates
to the declaration against trans -substantiation." This
proposal was supported by some of Walpole's friends ;
and, of course, Walpole himself was in favor of its prin
ciple. But he was not disposed in the least to trouble his
master or himself about the repeal of Test Acts, either
in the interest of the Roman Catholics or the Non-con
formists, and he opposed the motion. There Avas a long
debate, but the record says that " the particulars of it
not having been made public, we can give no further ac
count of it, but that many of the members being retired
from Parliament, as before mentioned, and most of those
concerned in the Administration being against it, the
question passed in the negative, 188 noes to 89 yeas."
The Government were also enabled to pass without any
resistance in the House of Commons a very ignoble and
shabby little treaty with the King of Denmark, by which
England undertook to pay to Denmark seventy thousand
pounds a year for three years on condition that Denmark
should furnish to King George a body of troops, six thou
sand men in all, these troops to be ready at any time
when the King of England should call for them, and
he being bound to pay a certain sum "by Avay of levy-
money " for each soldier. This was not really an English
measure at all. It had nothing to do with the interests
of England, or of George as Sovereign of England. It
was merely an arrangement between the King of Den
mark and the Elector of Hanover, and was the settlement
or composition of a miserable quarrel about a castle and
a scrap of ground which George had bought from the
Duchy of Holstein, and which Denmark claimed as her
own. The dispute led to a military scuffle, in which the
Danes got the worst of it, and it might have led to a
war but that the timely treaty and the promised annual

1789. WALPOLE HAS IT HIS OWN WAY. 177
payment brought the King of Denmark round to George's
views. The treaty met with some opposition, or at all
events some remonstrance, in the House of Lords. Car- .
teret, however, gave it his support, and declared that he
thought the treaty a wise and a just measure, Carteret
was always in favor of the Hanoverian policy of King
George, So far, therefore, Walpole had things his own Avay. He
was very glad to be rid of the Opposition for the time.
He might well have addressed them in words like those
which a modern American humorist says were called out
with enthusiasm to him when he was taking leave of his
friends and about to sail for Europe : " Don't hurry back
— stay away forever if you like."
But war was to come all the same. Walpole Avas not
strong enough to prevent that. The incessant attacks
made in both Houses of Parliament had inflamed the
people of Spain into a passion as great as that which in
England was driving Walpole before it. The Spanish
Government would not pay the amount arranged for in
the convention. They put forward as their justification
the fact, or alleged fact, that the South Sea Company had
failed to discharge its obligations to Spain. The British
squadron had been sent to the Mediterranean, and the
Spaniards declared that this was a threat and an insult to
the King of Spain. The claim to the right of search was
asserted more loudly and vehemently than ever. Near
to the close of the session there was a passionate debate
in the House of Lords on the whole subject. The Oppo
sition insisted that the honor of England would not
admit of further delay, and that the sword must be un
sheathed at once. The Duke of Newcastle could only
appeal to the House on the part of the Government not
to pass a resolution calling upon the King to declare war,
but to leave it to the King to choose his own opportunity.
Newcastle feebly pleaded that to pass a resolution would
be to give untimely warning to England's enemies, and
reminded the House that England was likely to have to
8*

178 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxii.
encounter an enemy stronger and more formidable than
Spain. Lord Hardwicke and Lord Scarborough could
, only urge on the House the prudence and propriety of
leaving the time and manner of action in the hands of
the Ministry, in the full assurance that the ministers
would do all that the nation desired. In other words, the
ministers were already pledged to war. The session was
brought to an end on June I4th, and on October 19th
England declared war against Spain. The proclamation
was greeted with the wildest outburst of popular enthu
siasm ; an enthusiasm which at the time seemed to run
through all orders and classes. Joy-bells rang out their
inspiring chimes from every church. Exulting crowds
shouted in a stentorian chorus of delight. Cities flamed
with illuminations at night. The Prince of Wales and
some of the leaders of the Opposition took part in the
public demonstration. The Prince stopped at the door
of a tavern in Fleet Street, as if he were another Prince
Hal carousing with his mates, and called for a goblet of
wine, which he drank to the toast of coming victory.
The bitter words of Walpole have indeed been often
quoted, but they cannot be omitted here: "They may
ring their bells now ; before long they will be wringing
their hands." Walpole was thinking, no doubt, of the
Family Compact, and of^"the King over the Water."
Parliament met in November, 1739, and the seceders
were all in their places again. They had been groAA'ing
heartily sick of secession and inactivity, and they insisted
on regarding the declaration of war against Spain as a
justification of their return to parliamentary life. Pulte
ney made himself their spokesman in the debate on the
Address. "Our step," he said, meaning theii' secession,
" is so fully justified by the declaration of war, so uni
versally approved, that any further vindication of it
would be superfluous." They seceded when they felt
that their opposition was ineffectual, and that their pres
ence was only made use of to give the appearance of a
fair debate to that which had already been. ratified. "The

1739-1740. DEATH OF WYNDHAM. 179
state of affairs is now changed ; the measures of the min
isters are altered ; and the same regard for the honor and
welfare of their country that determined these gentlemen
to withdraw has now brought them hither once more, to
give their advice and assistance in those measures which
they then pointed out as the only means of asserting and
retrieving them." Walpole's reply was a little ungra
cious. It was, in effect, that he thought the country
could have done very well without the services of the
honorable members ; that they never would have been
missed ; and that the nation was generally wide-awake to
the fact that the many useful and popular measures passed
towards the close of the last session owed their passing to
the happy absence from Parliament of Pulteney and his
friends. One might well excuse Walpole if he became
sometimes a little impatient of the attitudinizing and the
vaporing of the Patriots.
One of the Patriots was not long to trouble Walpole.
On July 17, 1740, Sir William Wyndham died. Wynd
ham was a man of honor and a man of intellect. We
have already in this history described his abilities and
his character, his political purity, his personal consistency.
He had always been in poor health ; his incessant parlia
mentary work certainly could not have tended to improve
his physical condition ; and he was but fifty-three years
old when he died. Had he lived yet a little longer he
must have taken high office in a new administration, and
he might have proved himself a statesman as well as a
party leader and a parliamentary orator. Perhaps, on the
whole, it is better for his fame that he should have been
spared the test. It proved too much for Carteret. We
may give Bolingbroke credit for sincerity when he poured
out, in letter after letter, his lament for Wyndham's death.
There is something, however, characteristic of the age and
the man in Bolingbroke's instant assumption that Walpole
must regard the death as a fine stroke of good-luck for
himself. "What a star has our Minister," Bolingbroke
wrote to a friend — "Wyndham dead!" It seems strange

180 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxii.
that Bolingbroke should not even then have been able to
see that the star of the great minister was about to set.
The death of Wyndham brought Walpole no profit ; gave
him no security. But Wyndham's premature end with
drew a picturesque and a chivalric figure from the life of
the House of Commons. He was one of the few, the very
few, really unselfish and high-minded men who then oc
cupied a prominent position in Parliament. He was not
fighting for his own hand. He was not a mere partisan.
He had enough of the statesman in him to be able to ac
cept established facts, and not to argue with the inexora
ble. He was not a scholar like Carteret, or an orator like
Bolingbroke ; he was not an ascetic ; but he had stainless
political integrity, and was a true friend to his friends.
Walpole committed the great error of his life when he
consented to accept the war policy which his enemies had
proclaimed, and which he had so long resisted. Even if
we consider his conduct not as a question of principle,
but only as one of mere expediency, it must still be con
demned. No statesman is likely to be able to conduct a
great war whose heart is all the time filled only with a
longing for peace. Walpole Avas perhaps less likely than
any other statesman to make a war minister. He could
not throAV his heart into the work. He went to it because
he was driven to it. It was simply a choice between de
claring war and resigning office, and he merely preferred
to declare Avar. This is not the temper, these are not the
conditions, for carrying out a policy of war. But, as a
question of principle, Walpole's conduct admits of no de
fence. His plain duty was to refuse to administer a pol
icy of which he did not approve, and to leave the respon
sibility of the war to those who did approve of it. It is
said that he tendered his resignation to the King ; that the
King implored Walpole to stand by him — not to desert
him in that hour of need — and that Walpole at last con
sented to remain in office. This may possibly be true;
some such form may have been gone through. But it
does not alter the historical judgment about Walpole's '

1740. WALPOLE'S FATAL MISTAKE. 181
action. Walpole ought not to have gone through any forms
at such a time. He hated the war policy ; he knew that
he was not a war minister; he ought to have refused to
administer such a policy, and have stood by his refusal.
It is said that, in his conversation with the King, Walpole
pointed out that to the minister would be attributed every
disaster that might occur during a war, his opposition to
which would always be considered a crime. But would
there be anything very unfair or unreasonable in that?
When a statesman who has fought hard against a war
policy suddenly yields to it, and consents to put it into
action, Avould it be unreasonable, if disaster should occur,
that his enemies should say, " This comes of trying to
conduct a war in Avhich you have no heart or spirit?"
Burke passes severe censure even on Walpole's manner of
carrying 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 his adversaries, he opposed
their inferences. This, for a political commander, is the
choice of a weak post. His adversaries had the best of
the argument as he handled it; not as the reason and jus
tice of his cause enabled him to manage it." Then Burke
adds this emphatic sentence : " I say this after having
seen, and with some care examined, the original documents
concerning certain important transactions of those times ;
they perfectly satisfied me of the extreme injustice of that
war, and of the falsehood of the colors Avhich, to his own
ruin, and guided by a mistaken policy, he suffered to be
daubed over that measure." To his own ruin ? Yes, truly.
The consequence of Walpole's surrender was to himself
and his. political career fatal — irretrievable. His wrong
doing brought its heavy punishment along with it. He
has yet to struggle for a short while against fate and his
own fault ; he has still to receive a few successive humil
iations before the great and final fall. But the day of his
destiny is over. For all real work his career may be said
to have closed on the day when he consented to remain in

182 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxii.
office and become the instrument of his enemies. With
that day he passed out of the real world and life of poli
tics, and became as a shadow among shadows.
We need not trouble ourselves much about the war with
Spain. On neither side of the struggle was anything
done which calls for grave historical notice. Every little
naval success one of our admirals accomplished in the
American seas, as they were then called, was glorified as
if it had been an anticipated Trafalgar ; and our admirals
accomplished blunders and failures as well as petty victo
ries. The quarrel very soon became swallowed up in the
great war which broke out on the death of Charles the
Sixth of Spain, and the occupation of Silesia by Frederick
of Prussia. England lent a helping hand in the great war,
but its tale does not belong to English history. Two pre
dictions of Walpole's were very quickly realized. France
almost immediately took part with Spain, in accordance
with the terms of the Family Compact. In 1740 an or
ganization was got up in Scotland by a number of Jaco
bite noblemen and other gentlemen, pledging themselves
to stake 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 Wal
pole was not destined to see.
One link of personal interest connects England with the
war. George sent a body of British and Hanoverian troops
into the field to support Maria Theresa of Hungary. The
troops were under the command of Lord Stair, the veteran
soldier and diplomatist, whose brilliant career has been
already described in this history. George himself joined
Lord Stair and fought at the battle of Dettingen, where
the French were completely defeated ; one of the few
creditable events of the war, so far as English arms were
concerned. George behaved with great courage and spirit;
If the poor, stupid, puffy, plucky little man did but know
what a strange, picturesque, memorable figure he was as
he stood up against the enemy at that battle of Dettingen !

1743. GEORGE AT DETTINGEN. 183
The last king of England who ever appeared with his army
in the battle-field ! There, as he gets down off his unruly
horse, determined to trust to his own stout legs — because,
as he says, they will not run away — there is the last succes
sor of the Williams, and the Edwards, and the Henrys; the
last successor 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, in
this country, the last tradition of the old and original duty
and right of royalty — the duty and the right to march
with the national army in war. A king in older days
owed his kingship to his capacity for the brave squares of
war. In other countries the tradition lingers still. A
continental sovereign, even if he have not really the gen
eralship to lead an army, must appear on the field of bat
tle, and at least seem to lead it, and he must take his share
of danger with the rest. But in England the very idea
has died out, never in all probability to come back to life
again. If one were to follow some of the examples set
us in classical imaginings, we might fancy the darkening
clouds on the west, where the sun has sunk over the battle
field, to be the phantom shapes of the great English kings
who led their people and their armies in the wars. Un
kingly, indeed unheroic, little of kin with them they might
well have thought that panting George; and yet they
might have looked on him with interest as the last of their
proud race.
We have been anticipating a little; let us anticipate a
little more and say what came of the war, so far as the
claims originally made by England, or rather by the Pa
triots, were concerned. When peace was arranged, nearly
ten years after, the asiento was rensAved for four years,
and not one word was said in the treaty about Spain re
nouncing the right of search. The great clamor of the
Patriots had been that Spain must be made to proclaim
publicly her renunciation of the right of search ; and
when a treaty of settlement came to be drawn up not a

184 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxii.
sentence was inserted about the right of search, and no
English statesman troubled his head about the matter.
The words of Burke, taken out of one of his Avritings from
which a quotation has already been 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 that minister (Walpole), and with those who prin
cipally excited that clamor. None of them — no, not one
— did in the least defend the measure or attempt to justify
their conduct. They condemned it as freely as they would
have done in commenting upon any proceeding in history
in which they were totally unconcerned." Let it not be
forgotten, however, that, Avhile this is a condemnation of
the Patriots, it is no less a condemnation of Walpole.
The policy which none of them could afterwards defend,
which he himself had always condemned and reprobated,
he nevertheless undertook to carry out rather than submit
to be driven from office. Schiller in one of his dramas
mourns over the man who stakes reputation, health, and
all upon success — and no success in the end. It was to be
thus with Walpole.

1741. MOTIONS AGAINST WALPOLE. 185

CHAPTER XXXIII.
'and when he FALLS 

Walpole soon found that his enemies were no less bit
ter against him, no less resolute to harass and Avorry him,
now that he had stooped to be their instrument and do
their work. Every unsuccessful movement in the war
was made the occasion of a motion for papers, a motion
for an inquiry, a vote of want of confidence, or some other
direct or indirect attack upon the Prime-minister. In the
House of Lords, Lord Carteret was especially unsparing,
and Avas brilliantly supported by Lord Chesterfield. In
the House of Commons, Samuel Sandys, a clever and re
spectable country gentleman from Worcestershire, made
himself quite a sort of renown by his motions against
Walpole. On Friday, February 13, 1741, a motion was
made in each of the Houses of Parliament calling on the
King "to remove the Right Honorable Sir Robert Wal
pole, Knight of the most noble Order of the Garter, First
Commissioner for executing the office of Treasurer of the
Exchequer, Chancellor and Under -Treasurer of the Ex
chequer, and one of his Majesty's most honorable Privy
Council, from his Majesty's presence and councils forever."
In the House of Lords the motion was made by Lord Car
teret; in the House of Commons by Mr. Sandys, who was
nicknamed "the motion-maker." The motion was lost by
a large majority in the House of Lords; and in the House
of Commons there were only 106 for it, while there were
290 against it. This was a victory; but it did not deceive
Walpole. There would soon be a new Parliament, and
Walpole knew very well that the couiltry was already
growing sick of the unmeaning war, and that he was held

186 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxiii.
responsible alike for the war policy which he had so long
opposed, and the many little disasters of the war with
which he had nothing to do. In Walpole's utter emergency
he actually authorized a friend to apply for him to James
Stuart at Rome, in the hope of inducing James to obtain
for him the support of some of the Jacobites at the com
ing elections. What he could possibly have thought he
could promise James in return for the solicited support it
is hard, indeed, to imagine ; for no one can question the
sincerity of Walpole's attachment to the reigning House.
Perhaps if James had consented to go into the negotiations
Walpole might have made some pledges about the English
Catholics. Nothing came of it, however. James did not
seem to take to the suggestion, and Walpole was left to
do the best he could without any helping hand from Rome.
Lord Stanhope thinks it not unlikely that King George
was fully aware of this curious attempt to get 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 Walpole and lampoons on his policy
and his personal character. When the election storm was
over, it was found that the Ministry had distinctly lost
ground. In Scotland and in parts of the west of England
the loss was most manifest. Walpole now was as well
convinced as any of his enemies could be that the fall
was near. He must have felt like some desperate duellist,
who, having fought his flercest and his best, is conscious
at last that his strength is gone; that he is growing fainter
and fainter from loss of blood ; and conscious, too, that
his antagonist already perceives this and exults in the
knowledge, and is already seeking out with greedy eye
for the best place in which to give the final touch of the
rapier's point.
The new Parliament met on December 1,1741, and re
elected Mr. Onslow as Speaker. The speech from the
throne was almost entirely taken up with somewhat cheer
less references to the war with Spain, and the debate on

1742. PULTENEY'S ATTEMPT TO REFER. 187
the address was naturally made the occasion for new at
tacks on the policy of the Government. " Certainly, my
Lords," said Chesterfield, "it is not to be hoped that we
should regain what we have lost but by measures different
from those which have reduced us to our present state,
and by the assistance of other counsellors than those who
have sunk us into the contempt and exposed us to the rav
ages of every nation throughout the world." This was
the string that had been harped upon in all the pamphlets
and letters of the Patriots during the progress of the war.
Walpole had done it all; Walpole had delayed the war
to gratify France ; he had prevented the war from being
carried on vigorously in order to assist France ; he had
obtained a majority in Parliament by the most outrageous
and systematic corruption ; he was an enemy of his country,
and so forth. All these charges and allegations were merely
founded on Walpole's public policy. They simply came
to this, that a certain course of action taken by Walpole,
with the approval of Parliament, was declared by Walpole
to have been taken from patriotic motives and for the
good of England, and was declared by his enemies to have
been taken from unpatriotic motives and in the interest of
France. It was of no avail for Walpole to point out that
everything he had done thus far had been done with the
approval of the House of Commons, The answer was
ready : " Exactly ; and there is another of your crimes :
you bribed and corrupted every former House of Com
mons." On January 21, 1742, Pulteney brought forward a mo
tion to refer all the papers concerning the war, which had
just been laid on the table, to a select committee of the
House, in order that the committee should examine the
papers, and report to the House concerning them. This
Avas simply a motion for a committee of inquiry into the
manner in which ministers were carrying on the war. The
House was the fullest that had been known for many
years. Pulteney had 250 votes with him ; Walpole had
only 253 — a majority of three. Some of the efforts made

188 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES., en.xxxiii.
on both sides to bring up the numbers on this occasion
remind one of Hogarth's picture of the "Polling Day,"
where the paralytic, the maimed, the deaf, and the dying
are carried up to record their vote. Men so feeble from
sickness that they could not stand were brought down to
the House wrapped up like mummies, and lifted through
the division. Walpole seems to have surpassed himself in
the speech which he made in his own defence. At least
such is the impression we get from the declaration of some
of those who heard it, Pulteney himself among the rest.
Pulteney always sat near to Walpole on the Treasury
bench ; Pulteney, of course, not admitting that he had in
any way changed his political principles since Walpole
and he were friends and colleagues. Pulteney offered to
Walpole his warm congratulations on his speech, and
added, "Well, nobody can do Avhat you can." Pulteney
might afford to be gracious. The victory of three was a
substantial defeat. It was the prologue to a defeat which
was to be formal as well as substantial. The Patriots
were elated. The fruit of their long labors was about to
come at last.
All this was telling hard upon Walpole's health. We
get melancholy accounts of the cruel work which his trou
bles were making with that frame which once might have
seemed to be of iron. The robust animal spirits which
could hardly be kept down in former days had now
changed into a mournful and even a moping temperament.
His son, Horace Walpole, gives a very touching picture of
him in these decaying years. " He Avho was asleep as soon
as his head touched the pillow— for I have frequently
known him snore ere they had drawn his curtains— now
never sleeps above an hour without waking; and he who
at dinner always forgot he was minister, and was more gay
and thoughtless than all the company, now sits without
speaking, and with his eyes fixed for an hour together."
Many of his friends implored him to give up the hopeless
and thankless task. Walpole still clung to office; still
tried new stratagems ; planned new combinations ; racked

1742. "THE THANES FLY FROM MEl" 189
his brain for new devices. He actually succeeded in in
ducing the King to have an offer made to the Prince of
Wales of an addition of fifty thousand pounds a year to
his income, provided that Frederick would desist from op
position to the measures of the Government. The answer
was what every one — every one, surely, but Walpole, must
have expected. The prince professed any amount of duty
to his father, but as regards Walpole he was implacable.
He would listen to no terms of compromise while the great
enemy of himself and of his party remained in office.
The Duke of Newcastle had notoriously turned traitor
to Walpole. Lord Wilmington, whose " evaporation " as
Sir Spencer Compton marked Walpole's first great success
under George the Second, was approached by some of
Walpole's enemies, and besought to employ his influence
with the King to get Walpole dismissed. It is said that
even Lord Hervey now began to hold aloof from him. It
was only a mere question of time and the hour. Walpole's
enemies were already going about proclaiming their de
termination not to be satisfied with merely turning him
out of office; he must be impeached and brought to con
dign punishment. Walpole's friends — those of them who
were left — made this another reason for imploring him
to resign. They pleaded that by a timely resignation he
might at least save himself from the peril of an impeach
ment. Walpole showed a determination which had much
that was pitiable and something that was heroic about it.
He would not fly — bear-like, he would fight the course.
The final course soon came. The battle was on a peti
tion from the defeated candidates for Chippenham, who
claimed the seats on the ground of an undue election and
return. Election petitions were then heard and decided
by the House of Commons itself, and not by a committee
of the House, as in more recent days. The decision of the
House was always simply a question of party; and no one
had ever insisted more strongly than Walpole himself that
it must be a question of party. The Government desired
the Chippenham petition to succeed. On some disputed

190 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxiii.
point the Opposition prevailed over the Government by a
majority of one. It is always said that Walpole then at
once made up his mind to resign; and that the knowledge
of his intention put such heart into those who were fall
ing away from him as to bring about the marked increase
which was presently to take place in the majority against
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 this clear to him the better. Anyhow,
the end was near. The Chippenham election was carried
against him by a majority of sixteen — 241 votes against
225. A note at the bottom of the page of the Parliamen
tary Debates for that day says : " The Chippenham election
being thus carried in favor of the sitting members, it was
reported that Sir Robert Walpole publicly declared he
would neA'er enter the House of Commons more." This
was on February 2, 1742. Next day the Lord Chancellor
signified the pleasure of the King that both Houses of
Parliament should adjourn until the eighteenth of the
month. Everybody knew what had happened. The long
administration of twenty years was over; the great min
ister had fallen, never to lift his head again. The Parlia
mentary record thus tells us what had happened: "The
same evening the Right Honorable Sir Robert Walpole
resigned his place of First Commissioner of the Treasury
and Chancellor and Under- Treasurer of the Exchequer,
which he had held ever since April 4, 1721, in the former
of which he succeeded the Earl of Sunderland, and in the
latter Mr. Aislabie."
That, however, was not the deepest depth of the fall.
The same record announces that " three days afterwards
his Majesty was pleased to create him Earl of Orford,
Viscount Walpole, and Baron of Houghton." "Poster
ity," says Macaulay, " has obstinately refused to degrade
Francis Bacon into Viscount St. Albans." Posterity has
in like manner obstinately refused to degrade Robert
Walpole into the Earl of Orford. He will be known

1742. THE NEW ADMINISTRATION. 191
as Robert Walpole so long as English history itself is
known. Walpole, then, was on the ground — down in the dust —
never to rise again. Surely it would seem the close of his
career as a Prime-minister must be the opening of that
of his rival and conqueror. Any one now — supposing
there could be some one entirely ignorant of what did
really happen — would assume, as a matter of course, that
Pulteney would at once become Prime-minister and pro
ceed to form an administration. This was naturally in
Pulteney's power. But Pulteney suddenly remembered
having said long ago that he would accept no office, and
he declared that he would positively hold to his word.
At a moment of excitement, it would seem, and stung by
some imputation of self-seeking, Pulteney had adopted
the high Roman fashion, and announced that he would
prove his political disinterestedness by refusing to accept
any office in any administration. The King consulted
Walpole during all these arrangements, and Walpole
strongly recommended him to offer the position of Prime-
minister to Lord Wilmington. Time had come round in
deed — this was the Sir Spencer Compton for whom King
George at his accession had endea\-ored to thrust away
Walpole, but whom Walpole had quietly thrust aAvay.
He was an utterly incapable man. Walpole probably
thought that it would ruin the new administration in the
end if it were to have such a man as Compton, now Lord
Wilmington, at its head. Lord Wilmington accepted the
position. Lord Carteret had desired the post for himself,
but Pulteney would not hear of it. The office of Secretary
of State — of the Secretary of State who had to do with
foreign affairs — was the proper place, he insisted, for a man
like Carteret. The secretaries then divided their functions
into a Northern department and a Southern department.
The Northern department was concerned with the charge
of Russia, Prussia, Germany, Sweden, Denmark, Holland,
Poland, and Saxony ; the Southern department looked
after France, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Switzerland, Turkey,

192 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxiu.
and the States along the southern shore of the Mediter
ranean. So Carteret became one secretary, and the gro
tesque Duke of Newcastle remained the other. The duke's
brother, Henry Pelham, remained in his place as Pay
master, Lord Hardwicke retained his office as Lord Chan
cellor, and Mr. Samuel Sandys, who had moved the res
olution calling for Walpole's dismissal, took Walpole's
place as Chancellor of the Exchequer. There seems some
humor in the appointment of such a man as successor to
Robert Walpole.
Then Pulteney's career as a great Prime-minister is not
beginning ? No — not beginning — never to begin. By one
of the strangest strokes of fate the events which closed
the career of Walpole closed the career of Pulteney too.
Yet but a few months, and Pulteney ceases as completely
as Walpole has done to move the world of politics. The
battle is over and the rival leaders have both fallen. One
monument might suffice for both, like that for Wolfe and
Montcalm at Quebec. Pulteney was offered a peerage, an
offer which he had contemptuously rejected twice before.
He accepted it now. It will probably never be fully and
certainly known why he committed this act of political
suicide. Walpole appears to have been under the impres
sion that it was by his cleverness the King had been pre
vailed upon to drive Pulteney into the House of Lords.
Walpole, indeed, very probably made the suggestion to the
King, and no doubt had as his sole motive in making it
the desire to consign Pulteney to obscurity; but it does
not seem as if his was the influence which accomplished
the object. Lord Carteret and the Duke of Newcastle
both hated Pulteney, who as cordially hated them. New
castle was jealous of Pulteney because of his immense in
fluence in the House of Commons, which he fancied must
be in some sort of Avay an injury to himself and his brother;
and, stupid as he was, he felt certain that if Pulteney con
sented to enter the House of Lords the popularity and the
influence would vanish. Carteret's was a more reasonable
if not a more noble jealousy. He was determined to come

1742. THE COMBINED FOUR. 193
to the head, of affairs himself — to be Prime-minister in
fact if not in name; and he feared that he never could be
this so long as Pulteney remained, what some one had
called him, the Tribune of the Commons. Once get him
into the House of Lords and there was an end to the trib
une and the tribune's career. As for himself, Carteret,
he Avould then be able to domineer over both Houses by
his commanding knowledge of foreign affairs, now of such
paramount importance to the State, and by his entire
sympathy with the views of the King. The King hated
Pulteney — had never forgiven him his championship of
the Prince of Wales — and would be delighted to see him
reduced to nothingness by a removal to the House of
Lords. But if it 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, that removal to the
House of Lords would mean political extinction for Pulte
ney, hoAV is it that no thought of the kind seems to have
entered into the mind of Pulteney himself? Even as a
question of the purest patriotism, such a man as Pulteney,
believing his own policy to be for the public good, ought
to have sternly refused to allow himself to be forced into
any position in which his public influence must be dimin
ished or destroyed. As regarded his personal interests
and his fame, Pulteney must have had every motive to in
duce him to remain in the House where his eloquence and
his debating power had won him such a place. It is im
possible to believe that he could have been allured just
then, at the height of his position and his renown, by the
bauble of 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 fight
ing capacity, was not a strong but a weak man. Probably
he was, like Goethe's Egmont, brilliant in battle but weak
in council. All unknown to himself, four men, each man
possessed of an overmastering power of will, were com
bined against him for a single purpose — to drive him into
the House of Lords — that is, to drive him out of the
VOL. II. — 9

194 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxiii.
House of Commons. His enemies prevailed, against him.
As Lord Chesterfield put it, he " shrank into insignificance
and an earldom." We are far from saying that a man
might not be a good minister and a statesman of influence
after having accepted a seat in the House of Lords. But
it was beginning to be found, even in Pulteney's time, that
the place of a great Prime-minister is in the House of
Commons; and certainly the place of a tribune of the
people can hardly be the House of Lords. Pulteney was
born for the House of Commons : transplantation meant
death to a genius like his. When the news of his "pro
motion" became public, a wild outcry of anger and despair
broke from his population of admirers. He was denounced
as having committed an act of perfidy and of treason. He
had accepted a peerage, it Avas said, as a bribe to induce
him to consent to let Robert Walpole go unimpeached
and unpunished. The outcry was quite- unjust, but was
certainly not unnatural. People wanted some sort of ex
planation of an act which no ordinary reasoning could
possibly explain. Pulteney's conduct bitterly disappoint
ed the Tory section of the Opposition as well as the pop
ulace of his former adorers out-of-doors. Bolingbroke,
who had hurried back to England, found that all his
dreams of a genuine Coalition Ministry, representing fair
ly both wings of the forces of Opposition, had vanished
with the morning light. Except for the removal of Wal
pole, hardly any change was made in the composition of
recent English administration. The Tories and Jacobites,
Avho had helped so signally in the fight, were left out of
the spoils of victory. Bolingbroke found that he was no
nearer to power than he would have been if Walpole still
were at the head of affairs. Nothing Avas changed for
him; only a stupid man had taken the place of a states
man. Pulteney appears to have acted very generously
towards his immediate political colleagues, and to have
remained in the House of Commons, where he now had
all the power, until he had got for them the places they
desired. Then he was gazetted as Earl of Bath; and we

174a-1745. DEATH OF WALPOLE. 196
have all heard the famous anecdote of the first meeting
in the House of Lords between the man who had been
Robert Walpole and the man who had been William Pulte
ney, and the greeting given by the new Lord Orford to
the new Lord Bath: "Here we are, my lord, the two
most insignificant fellows in England." With these words
the flrst great leader of Opposition in the House of Com
mons, the man who may almost be said 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 flrst speech in the House
of Commons, in defence of his father, against such a mo
tion. A secret committee was at last obtained, but it did
not succeed, althpugh composed almost altogether of Wal
pole's enemies, in bringing out anything very startling
against him. Public money had been spent, no doubt, here
and there very freely for purely partisan work. There
could be no question that some of it had gone in political
corruption. But everybody had already felt sure that this
had been done by all ministries and parties. The report
of the committee, when it came at last, was received with
cold indifference or unconcealed contempt.
Walpole still kept a good deal in touch with the King.
George consulted him privately, and indeed with much
mystery about the consultations. The King sometimes
sent a trusty messenger, who met Walpole at midnight at
the house of a friend. It was indeed a summons from
George which hastened the great statesman's death. The
King Avished to consult Walpole, and Walpole hurried up
from Houghton for the purpose. The journey greatly
increased a malady from which he suffered, and he was
compelled by pain to have recourse to heavy doses of
opium, which kept him insensible for the greater part of
every day during more than six weeks. When the stupe
fying effect of the opium was not on him — that is, for

196 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xsxm.
some two or three hours each day — he talked with all
that former vivacity which of late years seemed to have
deserted him. He knew that the end was coming, and
he bore the knowledge with characteristic courage. On
March 18,1745, he died at his London house in Arling
ton Street. Life could have had of late but little charm
for him. He had always lived for public affairs and for
power. He had none of the gifts of seclusion. Except
for his love of pictures, he had no in-door intellectual re
sources. He could not bury himself in literature as Car
teret could do ; or, at a later day, Charles James Fox ;
or, at a later day still, Mr. Gladstone. Walpole's life re
ally came to an end the day he left the House of Com
mons ; the rest was silence. He was only in his sixty-
ninth year when he died. It was fitting that he should
lose his life in striving to assist and counsel the sovereign
whose family he more than any other man or set of men
had seated firmly on the throne of England. His faults
were many; his personal virtues perhaps but fcAV. One
great and consummate public virtue he certainly had :
he was devoted to the interests of his country. In the
building of Nelson's ships it was said that the oak of
Houghton Woods excelled all other timber. Oak from
the same woods was used to make musket-stocks for Wel
lington's soldiers in the long war against Napoleon. Wal
pole's own fibre was something like that of the oaks
which grew on his domain. His policy on two of the
most eventful occasions of his life has been amply justi
fied by history. He was right in the principles of his Ex
cise Bill ; he was right in opposing the war policy of the
Patriots. The very men who had leagued against him in
both these instances acknowledged afterwards that he was
right and that they were wrong. It was in an evil mo
ment for himself that he yielded to the policy of the Pa
triots, and tried to carry on a war in which he had no
sympathy, and from which he had no hope. He was a
¦great statesman ; almost, but not quite, a great man.
Not very long before Walpole's death a star of all but

1744. THE DEATH OF POPE. 197
the first magnitude had set in the firmament of English
literature. Alexander Pope 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 he had borne with a patience hardly to be expected
from one of so fitful a temper. Pope's life had been all a
struggle against ill-health and premature decrepitude. He
Avas deformed; he was dwarfish; he Avas miserably Aveak
from his very boyhood ; a rude breath of air made him
shrink and wither ; the very breezes of summer had peril
in them for his singularly delicate constitution and ever-
quivering nerves. He Avas but fifty-six years old when
death set him free. Life had been for him a splendid suc
cess indeed, but the success had been qualified by much
bitterness and pain. He was sensitive to the quick ; he
formed strong friendships, fierce and passionate enmities ;
and the friendships themselves turned only too often into
enmities. Unsparing with the satire of his pen, he made
enemies everywhere. He professed to be indifferent to
the world's praise or censure, but he was nevertheless
morbidly anxious to know Avhat people said of him. He
was as egotistic as 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 in English poetry
may be taken now as settled. He stands high and stands
firmly in the second class : that is, in the class just below
Shakespeare and Milton and a very foAV others. He has
been extravagantly censured and extravagantly praised.
Byron at one time maintained that he was the greatest
English poet, and many vehement arguments have been
used to prove that he was not a poet at all. One English
critic believed he had settled the question forever Avhen
he described Pope as " a musical rocking-horse." Again
and again the world has been told that Pope has disap^
peared from the sky of literature, but the world looks up,
and behold, there is the star shining just as before. Many
scholars and many poets have scoffed at his translations of

198 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxiii.
Homer, but generations of English school-boys have learn
ed to love the " Iliad " because of the Avay in which Pope
has told them the story; and as to the telling of a story,
the judgment of a school-boy sometimes counts for more
than the judgment of a sage. Pope's " Iliad " and " Odys
sey " are certainly not for those who can read the great
originals in their own tongue, or even for those who have
a taste strong and refined enough to enjoy the severe fidel
ity of a prose translation. But Pope has brought the story
of Achilles' wrath, and Helen's pathetic beauty, and Hec
tor's fall, and Priam's agony home to the hearts of mill
ions for whom they would otherwise have no life. We
have no intention of writing a critical dissertation on the
poetry of Pope. One fact may, however, be remarked
and recorded concerning it. After Shakespeare, and pos
sibly Milton, no English poet is so much quoted from as
Pope. Lines and phrases of his have passed into the com
mon vernacular of our daily life. We talk Pope, many of
us, as the too-of ten cited bourgeois gentUhomme of Moliere
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 habitual conversation of our lives.
This of itself would not prove that Pope was a great
poet, but it is a striking testimony to his extraordinary
popularity, and his style is not that which of itself would
seem calculated to insure popularity. The very smooth
ness and perfection of his verse make it seem to many
ears nothing better than a melodious monotony. Pope
had not imagination enough to be a great poet of the
highest order — the order of creative power. He had
marvellous fancy, which sometimes, as in " The Rape of
the Lock" and in passages of the fierce "Dunciad," rose to
something like imagination. Every good Christian ought
no doubt to lament that a man of such noble gifts should
have had also such a terrible gift of hate. But even a
very good Christian could hardly help admitting that it
must have been all for the best, seeing that only for that
passion of hatred we should never have had " The Dunciad."

1720. BIRTH OF "PRINCE CHARLIE." 199

CHAPTER XXXIV.
"the eoety-five."
Thiety years had come and gone since England had
been alarmed, irritated, or encouraged, according to the tem
per of its political inhabitants, by a Jacobite rising. The
personality of James Stuart, the Old Pretender, was little
more than a memory among those clansmen who had ral
lied round the royal standard at Braemar. In those thir
ty years James Stuart had lived his melancholy, lonely,
evil life of exile, the hanger-on of foreign courts, the half
grotesque, half pitiable, sham monarch of a sham court,
that was always ready to be moved from place to place,
with all its cheaply regal accessaries, like the company
and the properties of some band of strolling players.
Now there was a new Stuart in the field, a new sham
prince, a "Young Pretender." After the disasters of the
Fifteen, James Stuart had become the hero of as romantic
a love-story as ever Avandering prince experienced. He
had fallen in love, in the hot, unreasoning Stuart way, with
the beautiful Clementine Sobieski, and the beautiful Clem
entine had returned the passion of the picturesquely un
fortunate prince, and they had carried on their love affairs
under conditions of greater difficulty than Romeo and
Juliet, and had overcome the difficulties and got married,
and in 1720 Clementine had borne to the House of Stuart
a son and heir. Every precaution was taken to insure the
most public recognition of the existence of the newly born
prince. It Avas determined that none of the perplexity,
the uncertainty, the suspicion, which attended upon the
birth of James, should be permitted to arise now. There
must be no haro about warming-pans, no accusations of

200 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxit.
juggling, no possible doubts as to the right of the new
born babe to be regarded as the son of James Stuart and
of Clementine Sobieski. The birth took place in Rome,
and cardinals accredited from all the great Powers of
Europe were present on the occasion to bear Avitness to it.
The city was alive with such excitement as it had seldom
witnessed since the days when pagan Rome became papal
Rome. The streets in the vicinity of the house where
Clementine Sobieski lay in her pain were choked with the
gilt carriages of the proudest Italian nobility; princes
of the Church and princes of royal blood thronged the
antechambers. Gallant gentlemen who bore some of the
stateliest names of England and of Scotland Avaited on the
stair-ways for the tidings that a new prince was given
unto their loyalty. Adventurous soldiers of fortune kicked
their heels in the court-yard, and thought with moistened
eyes of the toasts they would drink to their future king.
From the Castle of St. Angelo, where long ago the be
sieged had hurled upon the besiegers the statues that had
proved the taste of a Roman emperor, where Rienzi lay
yesterday, and where Cagliostro shall lie to-morrow, thun
ders of artillery saluted the advent of the new rose of the
House of Stuart. ,
In the years that followed, while the young Prince
Charles was growing up to his tragic inheritance, it can
hardly be maintained, even by the most devoted adherent
of the Stuart line, that James showed himself in the slight
est degree worthy of the crown towards which he reached.
Indeed, his conduct showed a reckless indifference to the
means most likely to attain that crown which it is difficult
to account for. When everything depended for the suc
cess of his schemes upon the friends he made abroad and
the favor he retained at home, he wantonly acted as if his
dearest purpose Avas to alienate the one and to wholly lose
the other. His conduct towards his wife, and his persist
ent and stupid favoritism of the Mar man and woman —
especially the woman — drove the injured and indignant
Clementine into a convent, and made the great European

1734-1785. CHARLES IN HIS FIRST CAMPAIGN. 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 dimin
ishing by one-half the income that had hitherto been allow
ed him from the Papal treasury. But worse than the loss
of foreign friends, worse even than the loss of the Sistine
subsidy, was the effect Avhich his treatment of his wife
produced in the countries which he aspired to rule. His
Avisest followers wrote to him that he had done more to
injure his cause by his conduct to Clementine than by any
thing 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 kind was effected between the Stuart king and queen.
But fidelity was a quality difficult enough for James to
practise, and Avhen the Queen died in 1735 it is said that
she found death not unwelcome.
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, and Charles may be said to
have begun the world in 1734, when, as we have seen, at
the age of fourteen, he took part in the siege of Gaeta as
a general of artillery, and bore himself, according to over
whelming testimony, as became a soldier. Up to this time
his education had been pursued with something like reg
ularity; and if at all times he preferred rowing, riding,
hunting, and shooting to graver and more secluded pleas
ures, he was not in this respect peculiar among young men,
princes or otherwise. If, too, he never succeeded in over
coming the difficulties which the spelling of the English
language presented, and if his handwriting always remain
ed slovenly and illegible, it must be remembered that in
that age spelling was not prized as a pre-eminent accom
plishment by exalted persons, and that Charles Stuart
could spell quite as well as Marlborough. He knew how
to sign his name ; and it may be remarked that though
he has passed into the pages of history and the pages of
romance as Charles Edward, he himself never signed his
9*

202 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. eaxixiv.
name so, but always simply Charles. He was baptized
Charles Edward Louis Philip Casimir, and, like his an
cestors before him, he chose his first name as his passport
through the world. If he had marched to Finchley, if
Culloden had gone otherwise than it did go, if any of the
many things that might have happened in his favor had
come to pass, he would have been Charles the Third of
England. His education was, from a religious point of view, cu
riously mixed. He was intrusted to the especial care of
Murray, Mrs. Hay's brother, and a Protestant, much to the
grief and anger of his mother. But he professed the tenets
of the Catholic Church, and satisfied Pope Clement, in an
interview when the young prince was only thirteen, that
his Catholic education was sound and complete. For the
rest, he was a graceful musician, spoke French, Spanish,
and Italian as readily as English, and Avas skilled in the
use of arms. As far as the cultivation of mind or body
went, he might fairly be considered to hold his own with
any of the preceding sovereigns and princes of the House
of Stuart. When in 1737 he set out on a kind of triumph
al tour of the great Italian towns, he was received every
where with enthusiasm, and everywhere made the most
favorable impression. So successful was this performance,
so popular did the prince make himself, and so warmly
was he received, that the Hanoverian Government took
upon itself to be seriously offended, ordered the Venetian
ambassador Businiello to leave London, and conveyed to
the Republic of Genoa its grave disapproval of the Re
public's conduct. The zealous energy of Mr. Fane, our
envoy at Florence, saved that duchy from a like rebuke.
Mr. Fane insisted so strongly that no kind of State recep
tion was to be accorded to the travelling prince that the
Grand Duke gave way. Yet the Grand Duke's curiosity
to meet Charles Stuart was so great that he had prevailed
upon Fane to allow him to meet the stranger on the foot
ing of a private individual ; but sudden death carried off
the poor Grand Duke before the interview could take place.

1784-1737. THE OMEN ACCEPTED. 203
When Charles Stuart, as a general of fourteen, was help
ing to besiege Gaeta, he had been hailed by Don Carlos
as Prince of Wales, and as Prince of Wales he was inva
riably addressed by those outside the little circle of the
sham court who Avished to please the exiled princes or
show their sympathy with their cause. The young
Charles soon began to weary of being Prince of Wales
only in name. It seems certain that from a very early
age his thoughts were turned to England and the English
succession. There is a legend that at Naples once the
young prince's hat blew into the sea, and when some, of
his companions wished to put forth in a boat and fetch it
back he dissuaded them, saying that it was not worth
while, as he would have to go shortly to England to
fetch his hat. The legend is in all likelihood true in so
far as it represents the bent of the young man's mind.
He was sufficiently intelligent to perceive that masquer
ading through Italian cities and the reception of pseudo-
royal honors from petty princes Avere but a poor counter
feit of the honors that were his, as he deemed, by right
divine. So it was only natural that with waxing man
hood his eyes and his thoughts turned more often to that
England which he had never seen, but which, as he had
been so often and often assured, was only waiting for
a fit opportunity to cast off the Hanoverian yoke and
welcome any lineal descendant of the Charleses and the
Jameses of beloved memory.
More than one expedition had been planned, and one
expedition had decisively failed, when in the summer of
1745 Prince Charles sailed from Belleisle on board the
JBoutelle, with the Elizabeth as a companion vessel. He
started on this expedition on his own responsibility and
at his own risk. Murray of Broughton, and other influ
ential Scottish friends, had told him, again and again,
that it Avould be absolutely useless to come to Scotland
without a substantial and well - armed folloAving of at
least six thousand troops, and a substantial sum of money
in his pocket. To ask so much was to ask the impossible.

204 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxit.
At one time the young prince had believed that Louis
the Fifteenth would find him the men and lend him the
money, but in 1745 any such hope had entirely left him.
He knew now that Louis the Fifteenth would do nothing
for him ; he knew that if he was ever to regain his birth
right he must win it with his own wits. It is impossible
not to admire the desperate courage of the young aspirant
setting out thus lightly to conquer a kingdom Avith only a
handful of men at bis back and hardly a handful of money
in his pocket. Judging, too, by the course of events and
the near approach which the prince made to success, it is
impossible not to accord him considerable praise for that
instinct which makes the great soldier and the great
statesman, the instinct which counsels when to dare. The
very ships in which he was sailing he had got hold of,
not only without the connivance, but without the knowl
edge, of the French Government. They were obtained
through two English residents at Nantes. On August
2d the Boutelle anchored off the Hebrides alone. The
Elizabeth had fallen in with an English vessel, the Lion,
and had been so severely handled that she was obliged
to return to Brest to refit, carrying with her all the arms
and ammunition on which Prince Charles had relied for
the furtherance of his expedition. So here Avas the claim
ant to the crown, friendless and alone, trying his best
to derive encouragement from the augury which Tulli-
bardine grandiloquently discerned in the flight of a royal
eagle around the vessel. Eagle or no eagle, augury or
no augury, the opening of the campaign was gloomy in
the extreme. The first clansmen whose aid the prince so
licited 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, and substantial aid,
from a foreign Power, in the shape of arms and fighting-
men, no clansman would bare claymore in his behalf.
But the eloquence and the determination of the young
prince Avon over Clanranald and the Macdonalds of Kin-

1745. THE SEVEN MEN OF MOIDART. 205
loch-Moidart ; Charles disembarked and took up his head
quarters at Borrodaile farm in Inverness-shire. A kind
of legendary fame attaches to the little handful of men
who formed his immediate following. The Seven Men
of Moidart are as familiar in Scottish Jacobite legend as
the Seven Champions of Christendom are to childhood.
Tullibardine ; Sir Thomas Sheridan, the prince's tutor ;
Francis Strickland, an English gentleman ; Sir John Mac
donald, an officer in the service of Spain ; Kelly, a non-
juring clergyman ; Buchanan, the messenger, and ^neas
Macdonald, the banker, made up the mystic tale. Among
these Seven Men of Moidart, .(Eneas Macdonald plays the
traitor's part that Ganelon plays in the legends of Charle
magne. He seems to have been actuated, from the mo
ment that the prince landed on the Scottish shore, by the
one desire to bring his own head safely out of the scrape,
and to attain that end he seems to have been ready to do
pretty well anything. When he was finally taken pris
oner he saved himself by the readiness and complete
ness with which he gave his evidence. No more of him.
There were, happily for the honor of the adherents of the
House of Stuart, few such followers in the Forty-five.
The position of the young prince was peculiar. His
engaging manners had won over many of the chiefs ; his
presence had set on fire that old Stuart madness which
a touch can often kindle in Avild Highland hearts; his
determination to be a Scotchman among Scotchmen, a de
termination which set him the desperate task of trying to
master the Gaelic speech, insured his hold upon the affec
tions of the rude chivalry whom his presence and his name
had already charmed. But some of the greatest clans ab
solutely refused to come in. Macdonald of Sleat, and
Macleod of Macleod, would have none of the " pretended
Prince of Wales" and his "madmen."
Though these chieftains were appealed to again and
again, they were resolute in their refusal to embark in the
Stuart cause. They pledged themselves to the House of
Hanover, they accepted commissions in the royal army;

206 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.ixxiv.
the cause of Charles Stuart must sink or swim without
them. With them or without them, however, Charles
was going on. The number of clans that had come in was
quite sufficient to fill him with hope; the little brush at
Spean's Bridge between tAVO companies of the Scots Royal,
under Captain Scott, and the clansmen of Keppoch and
Lochiel, had given the victory to the rebels. The Stuarts
had drawn first blood successfully, and the superstitious
saw in the circumstance yet another augury of success.
The time was now ripe for action. All over the north of
Scotland the Proclamation of Prince Charles was scattered.
This proclamation called upon all persons to recognize
their rightful sovereign in the young prince's person as
regent for his father, invited all soldiers of King George,
by offers of increased rank or increased pay, to desert to
the Stuart colors, promised a free pardon and full religious
liberty to all who should renounce their allegiance to the
usurper, and threatened all who, after due warning, re
mained obdurate with grave pains and penalties. Every
where through the west this document had been seen and
studied, had inflamed men's minds, and set men's pulses
dancing to old Jacobite tunes. In Edinburgh, in Berwick,
in Carlisle, copies had been seen by astonished adherents
of the House of Stuart, who Avere delighted or dismayed,
according to their temperaments. Scotland was pretty
well aware of the presence of the young prince by the
time that it Avas resolved to unfurl the flag.
The royal standard of crimson and white was raised by
Tullibardine on August 19th in the vale of Glenfinnan, in
the presence of Keppoch and Lochiel, Macdonald of Glen-
coe, Stuart of Appin, and Stuart of Ardshiel, and their
clansmen. No such inauspicious omen occurred as that
which shook the nerves of the superstitious Avhen James
Stuart gave his banner to the winds of Braemar a genera
tion earlier. Indeed, an invading prince could hardly wish
for happier conditions under which to begin his enterprise.
Not only was he surrounded by faithful clansmen, prepared
to do or die for the heir to the House of Stuart, but the

1745. AN AUSPICIOUS OPENING. 207
stately ceremony of setting up the royal standard was
witnessed by English prisoners, the servants and the sol
diers of King George, the first-fruits of the hoped-for
triumph over the House of Hanover. "Go, sir," Charles
is reported to have said to one of his prisoners, Captain
Swetenham, " go and tell your general that Charles Stuart
is coming to give him battle." That element of the theat
rical which has always hung about the Stuart cause, and
which has in so large a degree given it its abiding charm,
Avas here amply present. For a royal adventurer setting
out on a crusade for a kingdom the opening chapter of
the enterprise was undoubtedly auspicious reading.

208 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. oh.xxxt.

CHAPTER XXXV.
THE MAECH SOUTH.
The condition of Scotland at the time of the prince's
landing was such as in a great degree to favor a hostile
invasion. Even educated Englishmen then knew much
less about Scotland, or at least the Highlands of Scotland,
than their descendants do to-day of Central Africa. People
— the few daringly adventurous people — who ventured to
travel in the Highlands Avere looked upon by their admir
ing friends as the rivals of Bruce or Mandeville, and they
wrote books about their travels as they would haVe done
if they had travelled in Thibet; and very curious reading
these books are now after the lapse of something over a
century. The whole of the Highlands were wild, unfre
quented, and desolate, under the rude jurisdiction of the
heads of the great Highland houses, whose clansmen, as
savage and as desperately courageous as Sioux or Pawnees,
offered their lords an almost idolatrous devotion. Nomi
nally the clans were under the authority of the English
Crown and the Scottish law; actually they recognized no
rule but the rule of their chiefs, who wielded a power as
despotic as that of any feudal seigneur in the days of the
old regime. The heroes of the Ossianic poems — the Finns
and Dermats whom colonization had transplanted from
Irish to Scottish legend — Avere not more unfettered or more
antiquely chivalrous than the clansmen who boasted of
their descent from them. Scotland was more unlike Eng
land in the middle of the last century than Russia is unlike
Sicily to-day.
There were several things in Charles's favor. To begin
with, the disarmament of the clans, which had been insisted

1715-1716. THE CHANCES IN HIS FAVOR, 209
upon after " the Fifteen," had been carried out in such
a fashion as was now to prove most serviceable to the
Young Pretender ; for the only clans that had been really
disarmed were the Mackays, Campbells, and Sutherlands,
Avho were loyal enough to the House of Hanover, and gave
up their weapons very readily to prove their loyalty. But
the other clans — the clans that ever cherished the lingering
hope of a Stuart restoration — were not in reality disarmed
at all. They made a great show of surrendering to Gen
eral Wade weapons that were utterly worthless as weapons
of Avar, honey-combed, crippled old guns and swords and
axes ; but the good guns and swords and axes, the serv
iceable weapons, these were all carefully stowed away in
fitting places of concealment, ready for the hour when
they might be wanted again. That hour had now come.
So that, thanks to the Disarming Act of 1 716, the Govern
ment found its chief allies in the north of Scotland practi
cally defenceless and unarmed, Avhile the clans that kept
pouring in to rally around the standard of the young invader
were as well armed as any of those who had fought so stout
ly at Sheriffmuir. Yet another advantage on the advent
urer's side was due to the tardiness with which noAvs trav
elled in those times. Charles had been for many days in the
Highlands, preparing the way for the rising, before rumors
of anything like an accredited kind came to the Court of St.
James. The Highlands and islands of Scotland were then
so far removed from the great world of government that
it had taken something like half a year on one occasion
before the dwellers in the stormy Shetlands had learned
that their sovereign. King William the Third, was dead and
buried; and in the years that had elapsed since William
of Orange passed away the means of communication be
tween London and the far north Avere little if at all better.
Charles had actually raised his standard and rallied clan
after clan around him before the Government in London
could seriously believe that a Stuart in arms was in the
island. There were other and minor elements of success,
too, to be noted in the great game that the Stuart prince

210 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxT.
was playing. The Ministry was unpopular : the head of
that Ministry was the imbecile Duke of Newcastle, per
haps the most contemptible statesman Avho has ever made
high office ridiculous. The King was away in Hanover.
England was in the toils of a foreign war, and her prestige
had lately suffered heavily from the sudden defeat at Fon-
tenoy. There were very few troops in England to employ
against an invasion, and the Scottish commander-in-chief.
Sir John Cope, whose name lives in unenviable fame in
the burden of many a Jacobite ballad, was as incapable
a well-meaning general as ever was called upon to face a
great unexpected emergency. It must be admitted that all
these were excellent points in the prince's favor, and that
they counted for much in the conduct of the campaign.
From the first, young Charles Stuart might well have
come to regard himself as the favorite of fortune. The
history of the Forty-five divides itself into two distinct
parts : the first a triumphant record of brilliant victories,
and the picture of a young prince marching through con
quest after conquest to a crown ; the second part prefaced
by a disastrous resolution, leading to overwhelming defeat,
and ending in ignominious flight and the extinction of
the last Stuart hope. From the moment when the Stuart
standard fluttered its folds of white and crimson on the
Highland wind it seemed as if the Stuart luck had turned.
Charles might well conceive himself happy. Upon his
sword sat laurel victory. Smooth success was strewn
before his feet. The blundering and bewildered Cope
actually allowed Charles and his army to get past him.
Cope was neither a coward nor a traitor, but he was a ter
rible blunderer, and while the English general was march
ing upon Inverness Charles was triumphantly entering
Perth. From Perth the young prince, with hopeless, help
less Cope still in his rear, marched on Edinburgh.
The condition of Edinburgh was peculiar : although a
large proportion of its inhabitants, especially those who
were well-to-do, were stanch supporters of the House of
Hanover, there were plenty of Jacobites in the place, and

1745. THE ADVANCE OP THE CLANS. 211
it only needed the favor of a few victories to bring into
open day a great deal of latent Jacobitism that was for the
moment prudently kept under by its possessors. The Lord
Provost himself Avas more than suspected of being a Jaco
bite at heart. The city was miserably defended. Such
Avails as it jpossessed were more ornamental 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
clans was the small but fairly efficient body of men who
formed the Town Guard ; the Train Bands, some thousand
strong, who knew no more than so many spinsters of the
division of a battle ; the small and undisciplined Edinburgh
regiment ; and a scratch collection of volunteers hurriedly
raked together from among the humbler citizens of the
town, and about as useful as so many puppets to oppose
to the daring and the ferocity of the clans. Edinburgh
opinion had changed verjr rapidly with regard to that
same daring and ferocity. When the flrst rumors of the
prince's advance Avere bruited abroad, the adherents of the
House of Hanover in Edinburgh made very merry over the
gang of ragged rascals, hen-roost robbers, and drunken
rogues upon whom the Pretender relied in his effort to
"enjoy his ain again." But as the clans came nearer
and nearer, as the air grew thicker with flying rumors of
the successes that attended upon the prince's progress,
as the capacity of the town seemed weaker for holding
out, and as the prospect of reinforcements seemed to groAv
fainter and fainter, the opinion of Hanoverian Edinburgh
concerning the clans changed mightily. Had the High
landers been a race of giants, endowed Avith more than
mortal prowess, and invulnerable as Achilles, they could
hardly have struck more terror into the hearts of loyal and
respectable Edinburgh citizens.
Still there were some stout hearts in Edinburgh who
did their best to keep up the courage of the rest and to
keep out the enemy. Andrew Fletcher and Duncan Forbes
were of the number. M'Laurin, the mathematician, turned
his genius to the bettering of the fortifications. Old Dr.

212 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxt.
Stevenson, bedridden but heroic, kept guard in his arm
chair for many days at the Netherbow Gate. The great
question was would Cope come in time? Cope was at
Aberdeen. Cope had put his army upon transports. Cope
might be here to-morrow, the day after to-morrow, to-day,
who knows ? But in the mean time the King's Dragoons,
whom Cope had left behind him when he first started out
to meet the Pretender, had steadily and persistently re
treated before the Highland advance. They had now
halted — they can hardly be said to have made a stand —
at Corstorphine, some three miles from Edinburgh, and
here it Avas resolved to do something to stay the tide of
invasion. Hamilton's Dragoons were at Leith. These
were ordered to join the King's Dragoons at Corstorphine,
and to collect as many Edinburgh volunteers as they could
on their way. Inside the walls of Edinburgh it was easy
enough to collect volunteers, and quite a little army of
them marched out with drums beating and colors flying
at the heels of Hamilton's Dragoons. But on the way to
the town gates the temper of the volunteers changed, and
by the time that the town gates were reached and passed
the volunteers had dwindled to so pitiable a handful that
they were dismissed, and Hamilton's Dragoons proceeded
alone to join 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 it only needed a few of the
prince's supporters to ride within pistol-shot and discharge
their pieces at the Royal troops to set them into as dis
graceful a panic as ever animated frightened men. The
dragoons, ludicrously unmanned, turned tail and rode for
their lives, rode without drawing bridle and without stay
ing spur till they came to Leith, paused there for a little,
and then, on some vague hint that the Highlanders were
on their track, they were in the saddle again and riding
for their lives once more. . Dismayed Edinburgh citizens
saw them sweep along what now is Prince's Street, a piti
able sight; saw them, bloody with spurring, fiery hot with

1745. EDINBURGH PARLEYS. 213
haste, ride on — on into the darkness. On and on the des
perate cowards scampered, sheep-like in their shameful
fear, till they reached Dunbar, and behind its gates allowed
themselves to breathe more freely, and to congratulate
themselves upon the dangers they had escaped. Such is
the story of the famous, or infamous, " Canter of Colt-
brigg," one of the most disgraceful records of the abject
collapse of regular troops before the terror of an almost
unseen foe that are to found in history. Well might loyal
Edinburgh despair if such were its best defenders. The
town was all tumult, the Loyalists were in utter gloom,
the secretly exulting Jacobites were urging the impossi
bility of resistance, and the necessity for yielding while
yielding was still an open question.
On the top of all this came a summons from the prince
demanding the immediate surrender of the city. A dep
utation Avas at once despatched to Gray's Mill, where the
prince had halted, to confer with him. Scarcely had the
deputation gone when rumor spread abroad in the town
that Cope, Cope the long expected, the almost given up,
was actually close at hand, and the weathercock emotions
of the town veered to a new quarter, Perhaps they might
be able to hold out after all. The great thing was to
gain time. The deputation came back to say that Prince
Charles must have a distinct answer to his summons be
fore two o'clock in the morning, and it was now ten at
night. Still spurred by the hope of gaining time, and
allowing Cope to arrive, if, indeed, he were arriving, the
deputation was sent back again. But the prince refused
to see them, and the deputation returned to the city, and
all unconsciously decided the fate of Edinburgh. Lochiel
and Murray, Avith some five hundred Camerons, had crept
close to the walls under the cover of the darkness of the
night, in the hope of finding some means of surprising the
city. Hidden close by the Netherbow Port, they saw the
coach Avhich had carried the deputation home drive up and
demand admittance. The admittance, which was read
ily granted to the coach, could not well be refused to the

214 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxt.
Highlanders, who leaped up the moment the doors were
opened, overpoAvered the guard, and entered the town,
Edinburgh awoke in the morning to find its doubts at an
end. It was in the hands of the Highlanders.
Jacobite Edinburgh went wild with delight over its
hero" prince. He entered Holyrood with the Avhite rose in
his bonnet and the star of Saint Andrew on his breast,
through enthusiastic crowds that fought eagerly for a
nearer sight of his face or the privilege of touching his
hand. The young prince looked his- best; the hereditary
melancholy which cast its shadow over the faces of all
the Stuarts was for the moment dissipated. Flushed with
easy triumph, popular applause, and growing hope, the
young prince entered the palace of his ancestors like a
king returning to his own. James Hepburn of Keith, with
drawn sword, led the way; beautiful women distributed
white cockades to enraptured Jacobites ; the stateliest
chivalry of Scotland made obeisance to its rightful prince.
The intoxicating day ended with a great ball at the palace,
at which the youthful grace of Charles Stuart confirmed
the charm that already belonged to the adventurous and
victorious Prince of Wales. September 17, 1745, was one
of the brightest days in the Stuart calendar.
The conquest of Edinburgh Avas but the prelude to great
er glories. Copew as rallying his forces at Dunbar^was
marching to the relief of Edinburgh. Charles, acting on
the advice of his generals, marched out to meet him.
Cope's capacity for blundering was by no means exhaust
ed. He affected a contemptuous disregard for his foes,
delayed attack in defiance of the advice of his Avisest gen
erals, was taken unawares in the gray morning of the 21st
at Prestonpans, and routed completely and ignominiously
in five minutes.
Seldom has it been the misfortune of an English gen
eral to experience so thorough, so humiliating a defeat.
The wild charges of the Highland men broke up the order
ed ranks of the English troops in hopeless confusion; al
most all the infantry was cut to pieces, and the cavalry

1745. BORE THE NEWS OF HIS OWN DEFEAT. 215
escaped only by desperate flight. Cope's dragoons were
accustomed to flight by this time ; the clatter of their
horses' hoofs as they cantered from Coltbrigg was still in
their ears, and as they once again tore in shameless flight
up the Edinburgh High Street they might well have re
flected upon the rapidity with which such experiences re
peated themselves. General Preston of the Castle refused
to admit the cowards Avithin his gate, so there was nothing
for them but to turn their horses' heads again and spur off
into the west country. As for Cope, he managed to col
lect some ragged remnant of his ruined army about him,
and to make off with all speed to Berwick, where he was
received by Lord Mark Ker with the scornful assurance
that he Avas the first commander-in-chief in Europe who
had brought with him the news of his own defeat.
The victorious army were unable, if they had wished,
to follow up the flight, OAving to their lack of cavalry.
They remained on the field to ascertain their own losses
and to count their spoil. The losses were trifling, the
gain was great. Only thirty Highlanders were killed, only
seventy wounded, in that astonishing battle. As for the
gain, not merely Avere the honorable trophies of victory,
the colors and the standards, left in the Highland hands,
but the artillery and the supplies, with some two thousand
pounds in money, offered the prince's troops a solid re
ward for their daring. It is to the credit of Charles that
after the fury of attack Avas over he insisted upon the
wounded enemy and the prisoners being treated with all
humanity. An incident is told of him which brings into
relief the better qualities of his race. One of his officers,
pointing to the ghastly fleld, all strewn with dead bod
ies, with severed limbs and mutilated trunks, said to the
prince, "Sir, behold your enemies at your feet." The
prince sighed. " They are niy father's subjects," he said,
sadly, as he turned away.
The battle of Prestonpans is enshrined in Jacobite
memories as the battle of Gladsmuir, for a reason very
characteristic of the Stuarts and their followers. Some

216 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxt.
queer old book of prophecies had foretold, more than
a century earlier, that there should be a battle at Glads
muir. The battle of Prestonpans was not fought really on
Gladsmuir at all : Gladsmuir lies a good mile away from
the scene of Charles's easy triumph and Cope's inglorious
rout ; but for enthusiastic Jacobite purposes it was near
enough to seem an absolute fulfilment of the venerable
prediction. A battle was to be fought at Gladsmuir ; go
to, then — a battle was fought at Gladsmuir, or near Glads
muir, which is very much the same thing : anyhow, not
very far away from Gladsmuir. And so the Jacobites were
contented, and more than ever convinced of the advan
tages of prophecy in the affairs of practical politics. "
Some busy days Avere passed in Edinburgh in which
councils of war alternated with semi-regal entertainments,
and in which the prince employed his ready command of
language in paying graceful compliments to the pretty
women who wore the white cockade, and in issuing procla
mations in which the Union was dissolved and religious
liberty promised. One thing the young prince could not
be induced to do : none of the arguments of his council
lors could prevail upon him to threaten severe measures
against the prisoners fallen into his hands. It was urged
that unless the Government treated their prisoners as pris
oners of war and not as rebels, the prince would be well
advised to retaliate by equal harshness to the captives in
his power. But on this point the prince was obdurate.
He Avould not take in cold blood the lives that he had
saved in the heat of action. Then and all through this
meteoric campaign the conduct of Charles was character
ized by a sincere humanity, which stands out in startling
contrast with the cruelties practised later by his enemy,
the " butcher Cumberland." It prevented the prince from
gaining an important military advantage by the reduction
of Edinburgh Castle. He attempted the reduction of the
castle by cutting off its supplies, but when the general in
command threatened to open flre upon the town in conse
quence, Charies immediaitely rescinded the order, although

1745. IN THE HEART OF ENGLAND. 217
his officers urged that the destruction of a few houses, and
even the loss of a few lives, was in a military sense of
scant importance in comparison with the capture of so
valuable a stronghold as Edinburgh Castle. The prince
held firmly to his resolve, and Edinburgh Castle remained
to the end in the hands of the Royal troops. Charles dis
played a great objection, too, to any plundering or lawless
behavior on the part of his wild Highland army. We
learn from the Bland Burges papers that when the house
of Lord Somerville, who was opposed to the prince, was
molested by a party of Highlanders, the prince, on hear
ing of it, sent an apology to Lord Somerville, and an of
ficer's guard to protect him from further annoyance.
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 all recalled from
Flanders. It was time to make a fresh stroke. Charles
resolved upon the bold course of striking south at once for
England, and early in November he marched. He set off
on the famous march south. In this undertaking, as be
fore, the same extraordinary good-fortune attended upon
the Stuart arms. His little army of less than six thou
sand men reached Carlisle, reached Manchester, Avithout
opposition. On December 4th he was at Derby, only one
hundred and twenty -seven miles from London. Once
again, by skill or by good-fortune, he had contrived to
slip past the English general sent out to bar his way. Cum
berland with his forces Avas at Stafford, nine miles farther
from the capital than the young prince, who was now only
six days from the city, with all his hopes and his ambitions
ahead of him, and behind him the hostile army of the gen
eral he had eluded. Never perhaps in the history of war
fare did an invader come so near the goal of his success
and throw it so wantonly away ; for that is what Charles
did. With all that he had come for apparently within his
reach, he did not reach out to take it; the crown of Eng
land was in the hollow of his hand, and he opened his hand
VOL. II. — 10

218 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxt.
and let the prize fall from it. It is difficult to understand
now what curious madness prompted the prince's advisers
to counsel him as they did, or the prince to act upon their
counsels. He was in the heart of England ; he was hard
by the capital, which he would have to reach if he was
ever to mount the throne of his fathers. He had a devot
ed army with him — it would seem as if he had only to ad
vance and to win — and yet, with a fatuity which makes
the student of history gasp, he actually resolved to retreat,
and did retreat. It is true, and must not be forgotten,
that Charles did not know, and could not know, all his
advantages; that many of the most urgent arguments for
advance could not present themselves to his mind. He
could not know the panic in which Hanoverian London
was cast; he could not know that desperate thoughts of
joining the Stuart cause were crossing the craven mind of
the Duke of Newcastle; he could not know that the fright
ened bourgeoisie were making a maddened rush upon the
Bank of England; he could not know that the King of
England had stored all his most precious possessions on
board of yachts that waited for him at the Tower stairs,
ready at a moment's notice to carry him off again into the
decent obscurity of the Electorship of Hanover. He could
not know the exultation of the metropolitan Jacobites; he
could not know the perturbation of the Hanoverian side;
he could not know the curious apathy with which a large
proportion of the people regarded the Avhole proceeding,
people who were as willing to accept one king as another,
and who would have Avitnessed with absolute unconcern
George the Elector scuttling away from the Tower stairs
at one end of the town, while Charles the Prince entered it
from another. These factors in his favor he did not know,
could not know, could hardly be expected even to guess.
That the news of the rising produced very varied emo
tions in London we may learn from the letters of Horace
Walpole. In one of September 6th to Sir Horace Mann,
mixed with much important information concerning " My
¦ Lady O " and the Walpole promise of marriage "to young

1745. HOW LONDON FELT, 219
Churchill," comes ncAVS of the Pretender's march past Gen
eral Cope, and very gloomy forebodings for the result.
Another letter, which talks of the Pretender as " the Boy,"
and of King George "as the person most concerned," pre
sents the Hanoverian Elector as making very little of the
invasion, ansAvering all the alarms of his ministers by
" Pho, don't talk to me of that stuff." Walpole's spirits
has risen within the week, for he is much amused by the
story that " every now and then a Scotchman comes and
pulls the Boy by the sleeve, ' Preence, hero is another mon
taken,' then, with all the dignity in the world, the Boy
hopes nobody was killed in the action."
London at large vacillated very much as Horace Wal
pole vacillated. While on the one side Jacobites began
to come out of the corners in Avhich they had long lain
concealed, and to air their opinions in the free sunlight,
rejoicing over the coming downfall of the House of Han
over, authority, on the other hand, busied itself iu order
ing all knoAvn Papists to leave tho capital, in calling out
the Train Bands, in frequently and foolishly shutting the
gates of Temple Bar, and, Avhich was better and wiser, in
making use of Mr. Henry Fielding to write stinging satires
upon the Pretender and his party, and hint at the suffer
ings which were likely to fall upon London when the High
landers imported their national complaint into the capital.
A statesman is reported to have said that this disagreeable
jest about the itch was worth two regiments of horse to
the cause of the Government.
Yet, if London was excited, there was a tranquil Lon
don as well. Mr. George Augustus Sala, in that brilliant
novel of his, "The Adventures of Captain Dangerous,"
draws a vivid picture of this London with the true artist
touch. " Although from day to day Ave people in London
knew not whether before the sunset the dreaded pibrochs
of the Highland clans might not be heard at Charing
Cross — although, for aught men knew, another month,
nay, another week, might see King George the Second
toppled from his throne — yet to those who lived quiet

220 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxt.
lives and kept civil tongues in their heads all things went
on pretty much as usual. . . . That there was consternation
at St, James's, with the 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 lesson after morn
ing call. . . , So, while all the public Avere talking about
the rebellion, all the world went nevertheless to the play
houses, where they 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 flirted their
fans, and powdered and patched themselves, and distended
their petticoats with hoops, just as though there were no
such persons in the world as the Duke of Cumberland and
Charles Edward Stuart." Fiction, that most faithful and
excellent handmaiden of history, here shows us no doubt
very vividly what London as a whole thought and did in
face of the rebellion. It is an old story. Were not the
Romans in the theatre when 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 stoical indifference to the progress of the rebellion.
If Oxford had a good deal of Jacobitism hidden decorous
ly away in its ancient colleges, if there were a good many
disloyal toasts drunk in the seclusion of scholastic rooms,
there was apparently only a feeling of curious indifference
at the rival university, for Gray has put it on record that
at Cambridge "they had no more sense of danger than
if it were the battle of Cannse," and we learn that some
grave Dons actually were thinking of driving to Camford
to see the Scotch troops march past, " as though they were
volunteers out for a sham-fight, or a circus procession."

1745. HAD HE BUT KNOWN. 221

CHAPTER XXXVI
CULLODEN — AND AFTEE.
The prince did not know, and could not know, the exact
condition of things in the capital; did not know, and
could not know, how many elements of that condition
told in his favor, and how many against. But what he
could know, what he did know, was this : He Avas at the
head of a devoted army, which if it Avas small had hither
to found its career marked by triumph after triumph. He
was in the heart of England, and had already found that
the Stuart war-cry was powerful enough to rally many an
English gentleman to his standard. Sir Walter Williams
Wynn, Avhom men called the King of Wales, was on his
way to join the Prince of Wales. So was Lord Barry-
more, the member of Parliament ; so was many another
gallant gentleman of name, of position, of wealth. Man
chester had given him the heroic, the ill - fated James
Dawson, and a regiment three hundred strong. Lord
James Drummond had landed at Montrose with men,
money, and supplies. The young chevalier's troops Avere
eager to advance ; they were flushed with victories ; their
hearts were high ; they believed, in the wild Gaelic way,
in the sanctity of their cause ; they believed that the Lord
of Hosts was on their side, and such a belief strengthen
ed their hands. For a prince seeking his principality it
would seem that there was one course, and one only, to
pursue. He might go on and take it, and Avin the great
game he played for ; or, failing that, he might die as be
came a royal gentleman, sword in hand and fighting for
his rights. The might-have-beens are indeed for the most
part a vanity, but we can fairly venture to assert now that

222 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxti.
if Charles had pushed on he would, for the time at least,
have restored the throne of England to the House of
Stuart. We may doubt, and doubt Avith reason, whether
any fortuitous succession of events could have confirmed
the Stuart hold upon the English croAvn ; but we can
scarcely doubt that the hold would have been for the time
established, that the Old Pretender would have been King
James the Third, and that George the Elector would have
been posting, bag and baggage, to the rococo shades of
Herrenhausen. But, as we have said, failing that, if
Charles had fallen in battle at the head of his defeated
army, how much better that end would have been than the
miserable career which was yet to lend no tragic dignity
to the prolonged, pitiful, pitiable life of the Young Pre
tender !
However, for good or evil, the insane decision was
made. Charles's council of Avar Avere persistent in their
arguments for retreat. There were thirty thousand men
in the field against them. If they were defeated they
Avould be cut to pieces, and the prince, if he escaped
slaughter, would escape it only to die as a rebel on Tower
Hill, whereas, if they were once back in Scotland, they
would find new friends, new adherents, and even if they
failed to win the English crown, might at least count, with
reasonable security, upon converting Scotland, as of old,
into a separate kingdom, Avith a Stuart king on its throne.
By arguments such as these the prince's officers caused
him to throw away the one chance he had of gaining all
that he had crossed the seas to gain.
It is only fair to remember that the young prince him
self was from first to last in favor of the braver course of
boldly advancing upon London. When his too prudent
counsellors told him that if he advanced he Avould be in
Newgate in a fortnight, he still persisted in pressing his
own advice. Perhaps he thought that where the stake was
so great, and the chance of success not too forbidding,
failure might as well end in NoAvgate as in the purlieus
of petty foreign courts. But, with the exception of his

1746. THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND. 223
Irish officers, he had nobody on his side. The Duke of
Perth and Sir John Gordon had a little plan of their own.
They thought that a march into Wales would be a good
middle course to adopt, but their suggestion found no
backers. All Charles's other counsellors were to a man in
favor of retreat, and Charles, after at first threatening to
regard as traitors all who urged such a course, at last gave
way. Sullenly he issued the disastrous order to retreat,
sullenly he rode in the rear of that retreat, assuming the
bearing of a man who is no longer responsible for failure.
The cheery good-humor, the bright heroism, which had so
far characterized him, he had now completely lost, and he
rode, a dejected, a despairing, almost a doomed man, among
his disheartened followers. It is dreary reading the rec
ord of that retreat ; yet it is starred by some bright epi
sodes. At Clifton there Avas an engagement Avhere the re
treating Highlanders held their own, and inflicted a distinct
defeat upon Cumberland's army. Again, when they were
once more upon Scottish soil, they struck a damaging blow
at Hawley's army at Falkirk. But the end came at last
on the day when the dwindling, discouraged, retreating
army tried its strength with Cumberland at Culloden,
Men of the Cumberland type are to be found in all ages,
and in the history of all nations. Men in Avhom the beast
is barely under the formal restraint of ordered society,
men in whom a savage sensuality is accompanied by a
savage cruelty, men who take a hideous physical delight
in bloodshed, darken the pages of all chronicles. It would
be unjust to the memory of Cumberland to say that in
his own peculiar line he had many, if any, superiors ; that
many men are more worthy of the fame which he won.
To be remembered with a just loathing as a man by whom
brutalities of all kinds were displayed, almost to the point
of madness, is not the kind of memory most men desire;
it is probably not the kind of memory that even Cumber
land himself desired to leave behind him. But, if he had
cherished the ambition of handing down his name to other
times, " linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes," if

224 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxti.
he had deliberately proposed to force himself upon the
attention of posterity as a mere abominable monster, he
could hardly have acted with more persistent determina
tion towards such a purpose. In Scotland, for long years
after he Avas dead and dust, the mention of his name was
like a curse ; and even in England, where the debt due
to his courage counted for much, no one has been found
to palliate his conduct or to whitewash his infamy. As
Butcher Cumberland he Avas known while he lived ; as
Butcher Cumberland he will be remembered so long as
men remember the " Forty-five " and the horrors after
Culloden fight. Some of those horrors no doubt were due
to the wild fury of revenge that always follows a wild
fear. The invasion of the young Stuart had struck terror;
the revenge for that terror was bloodily taken.
Everything contributed to make Culloden fatal to the
fortunes of the Pretender. The discouragement . of some
of the clans, the disaffection of others, the wholesale de
sertions which had thinned the ranks of the rebel army,
the prince's sullen distrust of his advisers, the position of
the battle-field, the bitter wintry weather, which drove a
blinding hail and snow into the eyes of the Highlanders,
all these were so many elements of danger that would
have seriously handicapped a better - conditioned army
than that which Charles Stuart was able to oppose to
Cumberland. But the prince's array was not Avell-con-
ditioned ; it was demoralized by retreat, hungry, ragged,
dizzy with lack of sleep. Even the terrors of the des
perate Highland attack were no longer so terrible to the
English troops. Cumberland had taught his men, in order
to counteract the defence which the target offered to the
bodies of the Highlanders, to thrust with their bayonets
in a slanting direction — not against the man immediately
opposite to its point, but at the unguarded right side of
the man attacking their comrade on the right.
After enduring for some time the terrible cannonade
of the English, the battle began when the Macintoshes
charged with all their old desperate valor upon the English.

1746. CULLODEN. 225
But the English were better prepared than before, and met
the onslaught Avith such a volley as shattered the High
land attack and literally matted the ground with High
land bodies. Then the Royal troops advanced, and drove
the rebels in helpless rout before them. The fortunes of
the fight might have gone very differently if all the High
landers had been as true to their cause as those who
formed this attacking right wing. "English gold and
Scotch traitors," says an old ballad of another fight,
"won . . . , but no Englishman." To no English gold
can the defeat of Culloden be attributed, but unhappily
Scotch treason played its part in the disaster. The Mac
donalds had been placed at the left wing of the battle
instead of at the right, which they considered to be their
proper place. Furious at what they believed to be an in
sult, they took no part whatever in the fight after they
had discharged a single volley, but stood and looked on
in sullen apathy while the left wing and centre of the
prince's army were being whirled into space by the Royal
ist advance. The Duke of Perth appealed desperately and
in vain to their hearts, reminded them of their old-time
A'alor, and offered, if they would only foUoAV his cry of
Claymore, to change his name and be henceforward call
ed Macdonald. In vain Keppoch rushed forward almost
alone, and met his death, moaning that the children of his
tribe had deserted him. There are few things in history
more tragic than the picture of that inert mass of moody
Highlanders, frozen into traitors through an insane pride
and savage jealousy, witnessing the ruin of their cause
and the slaughter of their comrades unmoved, and listen
ing impassively to the entreaties of the gallant Perth and
the death-groans of the heroic Keppoch. In a few minutes
the battle was over, the rout was complete ; the rebel
army was in full retreat, with a third of its number lying
on the field of battle ; the Duke of Cumberland was
master of the field, of all the Highland baggage and ar
tillery, of fourteen stands, and more than two thousand
muskets. Culloden was fought and won.
10*

226 ^ HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxti.
It is not necessary to believe the stories that have been
told of Charles Stuart, attributing to him personal cow
ardice on the fatal day of Culloden. The evidence in
favor of such stories is of the slightest ; there is nothing
in the prince's earlier conduct to justify the accusation,
and there is sufficient evidence in favor of the much more
likely version that Charles was with difficulty prevented
from casting away his life in one desperate charge when
the fortune of the day was decided. It is part of a prince's
business to be brave, and if Charles Stuart had been lack
ing in that essential quality of sovereignty he could scarce
ly have concealed the want until the day of Culloden, or
have inspired the clans with the personal enthusiasm
which they so readily evinced for him. Nor is it neces
sary for us to follow out in full the details of the unhappy
young man's miserable flight and final escape. Through
all those stormy and terrible days, over which poetry and
romance have so often and so fondly lingered, the fugitive
found that he had still in the season of his misfortune
friends as devoted as he had known in the hours of his
triumph. His adventures in woman's dress, his escape
from the English ship, the touching devotion of Flora
Macdonald, the loyalty of Lochiel, the fidelity of Cluny
Macpherson — all these things have been immortalized in a
thousand tales and ballads, and will be remembered in the
North Country so long as tales and ballads continue to
charm. At last, at Lochnanuagh, the prince embarked
upon a French ship that had been sent for him, and early
in the October of 1746 he landed in Brittany.
The horrors that followed Culloden suggest more the
blood feuds of some savage tribes than the results of
civilized warfare. Cumberland, flushed by a victory that
Avas as unexpected as it was easy, was resolved to kill,
and not to scotch, the snake of Jacobite insurrection.
The flying rebels were hotly pursued — no quarter was
given ; the wounded on the field of battle were left cold
in their wounds for two days, and then mercilessly butch
ered. There is a story, which might Avell be true, and

1746. CUMBERLAND'S VENGEANCE. 227
which tells that as Cumberland was going over the field of
dead and dying he saw a wounded Highlander staring at
him. Cumberland immediately turned to the officer next
to him, and ordered him to shoot the wounded man. The
officer, with an honorable courage and dignity, answered
that he would rather resign his commission than obey.
The officer of the story was the heroic Wolfe, who was
afterwards to become a famous general and die gloriously
before Quebec. It may be true ; we may hope that it is,
as it adds another ornament to the historic decoration
of a brave man — ^but history does not, so far as we are
aware, record the answer that Cumberland made to this
unexpected display of audacious humanity.
The cruelties of Culloden field were only the preface
to the red reign of terror that Cumberland set up in
the Highlands. The savage temper of the Royal general
found excellent instruments in the savage tempers of his
soldiery. Murder, rape, torture, held high carnival ; men
Avere hanged or shot on the slightest suspicion or on no
suspicion ; women were insulted, outraged, killed ; even
children were not safe from the blood-lust of Cumber
land's murderers.
The pacification of the Highlands was accomplished
on much the same methods as were afterwards employed
to bring about the pacification of Poland. Perhaps the
most dramatically tragic of all the events after the defeat
of Charles Stuart are connected with the fate of those of
his adherents who were taken prisoners, and who were of
too grave an importance to be put to the sword at once
or hanged out of hand. Some, unhappily, of the follow
ers of the young prince proved themselves to be un
worthy of any cause of any monarch, ^neas Macdonald,
John Murray of Broughton, Lord Elcho, and Macdon
ald of Barrisdale have left behind them the infamous
memory that always adheres to traitors. The revelations
which John Murray made to save his own life were the
means of sending many a gallant gentleman to Tower Hill.
In the end of July (of 1746) Westminster Hall was

228 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxti.
brilliant with scarlet hangings, and crowded with an il
lustrious company, to witness the trial of the three most
important of the captured rebels. Lord Kilmarnock, Lord
Cromarty, and Lord Balmerino. Walpole, who went to
that ceremony with the same amused interest that he
took in the first performance of a new play, has left a
very living account of the scene : Lord Kilmarnock, tall,
slender, refined, faultlessly dressed, looking less than his
years, which were a little over forty, and inspiring a
most 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 model of a gallant, careless
old soldier.
There Avas no question of the prisoners' guilt; they
were tried, were found guilty, were sentenced to death.
Two of the prisoners had, however, many powerful
friends — Kilmarnock and Cromarty ; and the charm of
Kilmarnock's presence had raised up for him many more
friends, whose influence was exerted with the King. For
Balmerino nobody seems to have taken the trouble to
plead, and even King George, whose clemency was not
conspicuously displayed in his treatment of his prisoners,
appears to have expressed some surprise at this, though
he did not allow his regret to carry him so far as to ex
tend his pardon to the stout old soldier. The exertions
of Lord Cromarty's friends, and especially of Lady Cro
marty, saved that prisoner's life. It is said that Avhen
the child which Lady Cromarty bore in her body during
the terrible period in which she was pleading for her
husband's life came into the world, it carried a mark like
the stroke of the executioner's axe upon its neck. Kil
marnock and Balmerino died on Tower Hill on August
18, 1746. Both died, as they had lived, like gentlemen
and brave soldiers. It is, perhaps, to be regretted that
Kilmarnock should on the scaffold have expressed any
regret for the part he had played in supporting the
Young Pretender against the House of Hanover. He

1746. LORD LOVAT. 229
had gone gallantly into the game of insurrection, and he
might as well have played it out to the end. At least
he was the only one of all the seven-and-seventy rebels
who were executed, from James Dawson to Simon Lovat,
who made upon the scaffold any retractation of the acts
that he had done. It is impossible not to contrast Bal-
merino's dying words, and to like them better than the
apologies of Kilmarnock, Balmerino was no subject of
King George ; he was his prince's man, " If I had a
thousand lives I would give them all for him " were his
dying words, and braver dying words were never spoken.
It was the old heroic spirit of absolute loyalty to the
annointed king which was of necessity dying out ; which
was to be repeated again half a century later in the hills
and the forests of La Vendee. The Stuarts were as bad,
as worthless, as kings could well be, but they did possess
the royal prerogative of inspiring men with an extraordi
nary devotion. There was something to be said for the
cause which could send a man like Balmerino so gallantly
to his death with such a brave piece of soldierly bluster
upon his dying lips.
A very different man died for the same cause upon the
same scaffold a little later. History hardly recalls a baser
figure than that of Simon Eraser (Lord Lovat). He is re
membered chiefly as the desperate shuffler and paltry trai
tor who tried to blow hot and cold, to fawn on Hanover
with one hand and to beckon the Stuarts with the other.
But his whole career was of a piece with its paltry end
ing. His youth and manhood were characterized by a
kind of savage lawlessness, like that of a Calabrian chief
tain brigand or the brave of a Sioux band. He was cruel,
he was cunning ; he was, in his wild Highland way, a vo
luptuary and a debauchee ; he was treacherous and hide
ously selfish. In his earlier days he had cast his eyes upon
a lady, whom, for motives of worldly advantage as well
as for her beauty, he had regarded as suitable to make his
wife. Neither the young lady nor the young lady's fam
ily would listen to the suit of Captain Eraser, as he then

230 ¦*• HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxti.
was ; whereupon Captain Eraser gathered together a se
lect company of scoundrels, carried the young lady off by
force, very much as Rob Roy's wild son did with the girl
of whom he was enamoured, married her against 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, droAvned the
poor creature's cries with their music. Now, in the eigh
tieth year of his age, he had come to his grim end. He
had broken most of the laws of earth and of heaven ; he
had ever tried to be in with both sides and to cheat both ;
he was always ready to betray and lie and cozen ; seldom,
perhaps, did a more horrible old man meet a more de
served doom ; yet he died with a bravery and a composure
which were not to be expected. Nothing in his life be
came him like to the leaving it. Thanks to the genius of
William Hogarth, we all know exactly how Simon Eraser,
the bad Lord Lovat, looked in those last days of his life
when he lay in prison, his old body weak with many in
firmities, and his old spirit still scheming and hoping for
the reprieve that did not come. On April 9th he was exe
cuted on Tower Hill. His latest words were grotesquely
inappropriate to his evil life. With his lying lips he re
peated the famous line from Horace, "Dulce et decorum
est pro patria mori," and with that lie on his lips he knelt
before the block and had his head cut 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 on the Green.
The genius of William Hogarth is inseparably asso
ciated with the Forty-five by reason of this famous por
trait of Simon Lovat, and for yet another reason. In this
year (1745) William Hogarth was already exceedingly pop
ular, although he had as yet failed to bask much in the
sunshine of royal favor. Those old, early days of poverty
and struggle were far behind. The industrious apprentice
had married his master's daughter, fifteen years ago by
this time, and Sir James Thornhill had forgotten his

1745. AVILLIAM HOGARTH. 231
wrath and forgiven the young painter Avho Avas so im
measurably his superior. " The Harlot's Progress," " The
Rake's Progress," " Industry and Idleness," and many an
other plate in the astonishing panorama of mid last cen
tury life, had earned for Hogarth a high 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's lathered embrace and to make the famous engrav
ing, William Hogarth Avas a very distinguished person in
deed. The portrait of Simon Eraser had a great success.
Never did portrait bear more distinctly the impress of
fidelity. The unwieldy trunk, the swollen legs, the hor
rible, cunning, satyr-like face with its queerly lifted eye
brows, its flattened sensual nose, and its enormous mouth,
the odd dogmatic gesture with which the index finger of
the left hand touches the thumb of the right: all these
things William Hogarth immortalized — making Simon
Eraser (Lord Lovat) wellnigh as familiar a personality to
us as he was to any of the men be betrayed or the women
he wronged in the course of his base life. The plate had
a prodigious success. The presses were hard at work for
many days, and could not print proofs fast enough. "For
several weeks," says Mr. Sala, " Hogarth received money
at the rate of twelve pounds a day for prints of his etch
ing." It was reduced in size and printed as a watch-paper
— Avatch-papers were vastly fashionable in those days —
and in that Liliputian form it sold also in large quantities.
The infamy of the subject and the genius of the artist
lent a double attraction to the portrait.
But the portrait of Simon Eraser is not the only, is
not perhaps even the chief, connection of Hogarth with
the Forty-five. Whether Hogarth did or did not do the
sketch for the mezzotint engraving called " Lovat's Ghost
on Pilgrimage " matters little. He certainly did do the
famous picture and famous plate which is known as the
" March to Finchley." Every one knows that marvellous
and no doubt vividly accurate picture of the progress of
the foot guards to Finchley Common on their way to

232 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxti.
Scotland ; the riot, the debauchery, the confusion, the
drunkenness of the scene. Those tipsy heroes, stagger
ing along to the tunes of tipsy drummer and tiny fifer,
while Doll Tearsheet and Moll Flanders harass them with
enforced embraces, played their part no doubt in the hor
rible cruelties which succeeded Culloden. But, at the
same time, these were among the soldiers who did suc
ceed in preventing England from being given over to the
Jacobites, or who at least prevented the Stuart Prince
from holding Scotland, and setting up the Stuart throne
there. It may, therefore, be perhaps pardoned to his maj
esty King George the Second if he did not quite appre
ciate the " burlesque," even though that lack of apprecia
tion made Hogarth in a rage dedicate the plate to his
majesty of Prussia.
Misfortune followed most of the followers of Prince
Charles. Tullibardine died in the Tower a few days
before his trial. Charles Ratcliffe, Lord Derwentwater's
brother, was executed. Sheridan died of apoplexy in the
November of 1746. The Duke of Perth died on ship
board, on his way to France, soon after Culloden. The
less conspicuous rebels suffered as severely as the leaders.
The executions that took place at York 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 as slaves to the plan
tations, a fate scarcely less terrible than death; some were
pardoned on consideration of their entering the service of
the King as sailors; some were pardoned later on; a foAv,
it is said, escaped. The sternest measures were taken to
prevent any possibility of a further rising in Scotland.
The disarmament of the clans, which had been carried out
so imperfectly after the Fifteen, was now rigorously and
effectually enforced. The hereditary jurisdiction of the
chiefs of clans, which made those chiefs the petty kings
of their districts, was abolished, and in their places the
ordinary process of law was established, with its sheriffs

1788. "BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE." 233
and sheriffs' substitutes, and its circuits of judges. The
national qostume, the kilt, was proscribed under the se
verest penalties, though in the course of time this pro
scription was gradually relaxed. Every master of every
private school north of the Tweed AVas called upon to
swear allegiance to the House of Hanover, and to register
his oath. The turbulent spirit and fine fighting qualities
of the clans were turned to good account by the Govern
ment, who raised several Highland regiments, and thus
succeeded in diverting to their OAvn service all the restless
and warlike energy which had hitherto been so trouble
some to law and order. It must be admitted that the
modern prosperity of Scotland dates in a great degree
from the Forty-five. The old conditions of life in the High
lands were conditions under which it was impossible for a
country to thrive; and though it is necessary to condemn
the manner in which the Government, at all events in the
earlier stages, attempted to effect the pacification of Scot
land, it is also necessary to admit that Scotland is proba
bly more fortunate to-day than she would have been if
victory had been given to the Stuart at Culloden.
Of that Stuart we may as well take leave now. His
subsequent career is a most dispiriting study. He hoped
against hope for a Avhile that this foreign power or that
foreign power would lend him a helping hand to his throne.
Expelled from France, he drifted to Italy, and into that
pitiable career of dissipation and drunkenness which end
ed so ingloriously a once bright' career. To the unlucky
women whom he loved he was astonishingly brutal; he
forced Miss Walkenshaw — the lady of Avhom he became
enamoured in Scotland — to leave him by his cruelty ; he
forced his unhappy wife, the Countess of Albany, to leave
him for the same reason. Her love affair with the poet
Alfieri is one of the famous love-stories of the world. It
seems pretty certain that Charles Stuart actually visited
England once, if not more than once, after the Forty-
five, and that George the Third was well aware of his
presence in London, and, with a contemptuous good nat-

234 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxti.
ure, took no steps whatever to lay hands upon the rival
who was dangerous no longer. At last, on January 31,
1788, or, as some have it, on January 30, the actual anni
versary of the execution of Charles the First, Charles
Stuart died in Rome, and with him died the last hope of
the Stuart restoration in England. Had Charles lived a
little longer, he would have seen in the very following
year the beginning of that great storm which was to sweep
out of existence a monarchical system as absolute as that
of the Stuarts had been, and to behead a monarch far less
blamable than Charles the First of England. There is
something appropriate in this uncompromising devotee
and victim of the principle of divine right dying in exile
on the very eve of that revolution which was practically
to abolish the principle of the divine right of kings for
ever. Oddly enough, there are still devotees of the House
of Stuart, gentlemen and ladies who woi'k uj) picturesque
enthusiasms about the Rebel Rose and the Red Carna
tion, and who affect to regard a certain foreign princess
as the real sovereign of England. But the English people
at large need hardly take this graceful Jacobitism very
seriously. Jacobitism came to its end with Cardinal
Henry dying as the pensioner of George the Third, and
Avith Prince Charles drowning in Cyprus wine the once
gallant spirit Avhich, even at the end, could sometimes
shake off its degradation, and blaze into a moment's de
spairing brilliancy, at the thought of the Clans and the
Claymores, and the brave days of Forty-five. And so,
in the words of the old Saga men, here he drops out of the
tale. But it is the curious characteristic of the ill-fated House
of Stuart that, through all their misfortunes, through all
their degradations, they have contrived to captivate the
imagination and bewitch the hearts of many generations.
The Stuart influence upon literature has been astonishing.
No cause in the world has rallied to its side so many poets,
named or nameless, has so profoundly attracted the writ
ers and the readers of romance, has bitten more deeply

1745-1889. THE STUART CHARM. 235
into popular fancy. Even in our own day, an English
poet, Mr. Swinburne, who has not tuned much to thrones
fallen or standing, has been inspired by the old Stuart
frenzy to write one of the most valuable of all the wealth
of ballads that have grown up around the Stuart name.
In his "A Jacobite's Exile, 1746," Mr. Swinburne has
summed up in lines of the most poignant and passionate
pathos all the feeling of a gentleman of the North Coun
try dwelling in exile for his king's sake. The emotion
which finds such living voice in the contemporary poetry,
in the ballads that men Avrote and men sang, while the
House of Stuart was still a reality, while there were still
picturesque or semi-picturesque personages living in for
eign 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 of Stuart went out forever.
" We'll see iiae 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,
Tlio graves wherein we lie."
What was there, what is there, we may well ask, in that
same House of Stuart, in that same Jacobite cause, which
still quickens in this latter day a living passion and pathos,
which can still inspire a poet of to-day with some of the
finest verses he has ever written? It may be some conso
lation to the lingering adherents of the name, to those
who wear oak-apple on May 29th, and who sigh because
there is no "king over the water" who can come to "en
joy his own again" — it may be some consolation to them
to think that if their cause can no longer stir the swords
in men's hands, it can still guide their pens to as poetic
purpose as it did in the years that followed the fatal Forty-
five. It may console them too, perhaps, with a more iron
ical consolation, to know that the greatest enthusiast about

236 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. cii.xxxvi.
all things connected with the House of Stuart, the most
eager collector of all Stuart relics, is the very sovereign
who is the direct descendant of the Hanoverian electors
against whom the clans were hurled at Sheriffmuir and at
Culloden, the lady and queen whom it affords a harmless
gratification to certain eccentric contemporary Jacobites
to allude to as "the Princess Albert of Saxe-Coburg-
Gotha." In the wild October of the wild year of the Forty-five
a great spirit passed away under the most tragic condi
tions. While Scotland and England were raging for and
against rebellion, the greatest mind of the age went grim
ly out in Ireland. On October 19, 1745, Jonathan Swift
died. For years he had been but in a living death. Racked
with pain, almost wholly bereft of reason, sometimes rag
ing in fits of madness, he was a fearful sight to those Avho
watched over him. When the end came it came quietly.
He sank into sleep and did not wake any more. He was
in his seventy-eighth year Avhen he died. A dim stone
upon the darkened wall of St. Patrick's Church in Dub
lin sums up, in words at once cruelly bitter and profound
ly melancholy, the story of his life. That mouldering in
scription, niched in high obscurity, Avhicli sometimes stray
pilgrims from across the seas strain their sight to decipher
in the gloom, is the self-uttered epitaph of Jonathan Swift.
We may translate it thus into English : " Here resteth
the body of Jonathan Swift, Dean of this Cathedral Church,
where fierce indignation can lacerate his heart no longer.
Go, traveller, imitate if thou canst a champion, strenuous
to 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 with love as they followed the poor
and lonely scholar through stately Shene or the prim ro
coco epicureanism of Moor Park. She sleeps as she lived,
at her master's feet. She dedicated all the days of her
life to Swift with a devotion which is wellnigh without a
parallel in the history of woman's love for man. Those

1745. SWIFT AND STELLA. 237
who stand aAve-struck and reverential in the quiet presence
of the dead may well feel troubled by a haunting influence
in the twilight air of the place. It is the haunting in
fluence of the secret of those two tortured lives, the secret
that lies buried between their graves. One forgets for the
moment Swift, the fierce fighting statesman, and thinks
only of the lonely man who lived to lament for Stella.
There has hardly ever been in the world, or out of it,
in the illimitable kingdoms of fancy, a more famous pair
of lovers than these two. Leila and Majnun, Romeo and
Juliet, Petrarch and Laura — repeat what names we may
of famous lovers that the fancies of poets have ever adored
by the Tigris, or the Avon, or in the shadows of Vaucluse,
the names of Swift and Stella are found to appeal no less
keenly to heart and brain, to the imagination and to pity.
Happy they were not, and could not be. When we read
of Swift and Stella the mind naturally turns to that luck
less pair of lovers whom Dante saw in the third circle of
hell, blown about forever on the racking Avind, and finding
comfort through the lapse of eternal twilight in the com
panionship of their common doom. They, too — Swift and
Stella — seem driven by the pitiless wind of fate ; they
have fallen upon evil days; they are greatly gifted, noble,
greatly unhappy; they are sustained by their strange,
exquisite friendship, by the community of genius, by a
tender affection which was out of tune with the time and
with their troubled lives. So long as Stella lived Swift
was never alone. When she died he was alone till the
end. There is nothing in literature more profoundly
melancholy than Swift's own eloquent tribute to the mem
ory of his dead wife, written in a room to which he has
removed so that he may not see the light burning in the
church windows, where her last rites are being prepared.
There is no greater and no sadder life in all the history
of the last century. The man himself was described in
the very hours when he was most famous, most courted,
most flattered, as the most unhappy man on earth. In
deed he seems to have been most wretched; he certainly

238 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxti.
darkened the lives of the two or three women who were
so unfortunate as to love him. But we may forget the
sadness of the personal life in the greatness of the public
career. Swift was the ardent champion of every cause
that touched him ; the good friend of Ireland : he was al-
Avays torn with " fierce indignation " against oppression
and injustice. Thackeray, whose reading of the character
of Swift is far too generally accepted, finds fault with the
phrase, and blames somewhat bitterly the man who uses
it, " as if," he says, " the wretch who lay under that stone
waiting God's judgment had a right to be angry." But
it was natural that Swift, scanning life from his own
point of view, should feel a fierce indignation against
wrong-doing, injustice, dishonesty. He was an erring
man, but he had the right to be angry with crimes of
which he could never be guilty. His ways were not al-
Avays our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts ; but he
walked his way, such as it was, courageously, and the tem
per of his thoughts was not unheroic. He was loyal to
his leaders in adversity ; he was true to friends who were
sometimes untrue to him; his voice was always raised
against oppression; he had the courage to speak up for
Ireland and her liberties in some of the darkest days in
our common history. To Thackeray he is only a " lonely
guilty wretch," a bravo, and a bully — a man of genius,
employing that genius for selfish or vindictive purpose.
To soberer and more sympathetic judgment Thackeray's
study of Swift is a cruel caricature. He may have been
"miserrimus," but Grattan was right when he appealed
long after to the " spirit of Swift " as the spirit of one in
true sympathy with the expanding freedom of every peo
ple — a champion, strenuous to his uttermost, of liberty.

1746. TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 239

CHAPTER XXXVIL
CHESTEEFIELD IN DUBLIN CASTLE.
The Jacobite rebellion had compelled the Government
to withdraw some of their troops from the continent.
France for a while was flattered and fluttered by a series
of brisk successes which left almost the whole of the Aus
trian Netherlands in her possession at the end of the cam
paign of 1746. The battle of Lauffeld, near Maestricht,
in Holland, in the summer of 1747, in which the allied
Austrian, Dutch, and English armies were defeated, es
pecially exhilarated the French Jacobites. The French
were commanded by Marshal Saxe, the victor of Fontenoy.
The English troops were under the command of Cumber
land, and Lauffeld was therefore regarded by them as in
some sort avenging Culloden, The victory Avas largely
due at Lauffeld, as it had been at Fontenoy, to the des
perate courage of the Irish Brigade, who, in the words of
one of their enemies, " fought like devils," and actually
came very near to capturing Cumberland himself. But
the tide of victory soon turned for France on land and
sea, and she became as anxious to make a peace as any
other of the belligerent powers could be. The French
were sick of the war. Henry Pelham was writing to the
Duke of Cumberland to tell him that no more troops were
to be had by England, and that, if they were to be had,
there was no more money Avherewith to pay them.
Political life in England had, during all this time,
been passing through a very peculiar period of transition.
When we speak of political 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 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxtu.
of the middle classes, and the whole of the poorer classes
all over Great Britain, may be practically counted out
when we are making any estimate of the movement and
forces in the political life of that time. The tendency,
however, was even then towards a development of the
popular principle. The House of Lords had ceased to
rule ; the Commons had not yet begun actually to govern.
But the Commons had become by far the more important
assembly of the two ; and if the House of Commons did
not govern yet, it was certain that the King and the Min
istry could only govern in the end through tbe House of
Commons. The sudden shuffle of the cards of fate which
had withdrawn both Walpole and Pulteney at one and
the same moment from their place of command at either
side of the field, brought with it all the confusion of a
Parliamentary transformation scene. Nothing could have
been more strictly in the nature of the burlesque effects
of a Christmas pantomime than Walpole and Pulteney
shot up into the House of Lords, and Wilmington and
Sandys set to carry on the government of the country.
Yet a little, and poor, harmless, useless Wilmington was
dead. He died in July, 1743. Then came the troubling
question, who is to be Prime-minister ? The Ministerial
ists were broken into utter schism. The Pelhams, who
had for some time been secretly backed up by Walpole's
influence with the King, were struggling hard for power
against Carteret, and against such strength as Pulteney,
Earl of Bath, still possessed. Carteret had made himself
impossible by the way in which he had conducted him
self in the administration of foreign affairs. He had gone
recklessly in for a thoroughly Hanoverian policy. He
had made English interests entirely subservient to the
interests of Hanover ; or rather, indeed, to the King's,
personal ideas as to the interests of Hanover. Carteret
had the weakness of many highly cultured and highly
gifted men; he believed far too much in the supremacy
of intellect and culture. The great rising wave of popu
lar opinion was unnoticed by him. He did not see that

1743. "THE DRUNKEN ADMINISTRATION." 241
the transfer of power from the hereditary to the represen
tative assembly must inevitably come to mean the trans
fer of power from the representatives to the represented.
Carteret in his heart despised the people and all popu
lar movements. Fancy being dictated to by persons who
did not know Greek, who did not know German, who
did not even know Latin and French ! He was fully
convinced for a while that with his gifts he could gov
ern the people through the House of Commons and the
House of Commons through the King. He was not really
a man of much personal ambition, unless of such personal
ambition as consists in the desire to make the most brill
iant use of one's intellectual gifts. The effort to govern
the House of Commons through the King interested him,
and called all his dearest faculties into play. He scorned
the ordinary crafts of party management. If he thought
a man stupid he let the man know it. He was rude and
overbearing to his colleagues ; insulting to people, how
ever well recommended, who came to him to solicit office
or pension. All that sort of thing he despised, and he
bluntly said as much. " Ego et rex mens " was his motto,
as we may say it was the motto of Wolsey. Not Wolsey
himself made a more complete failure. The King fought
hard for Carteret ; but the stars in their courses were
fighting harder against him.
Carteret's term of office was familiarly known as " the
drunken Administration." The nickname was doubtless
due in part to Carteret's love of wine, which made him
remarkable even in that day of wine-drinking statesmen.
But the phrase had reference also to the intoxication
of intellectual recklessness with Avhich Carteret rushed at
and rushed through his work. It was the intoxication of
too confident and too self-conscious genius. Carteret was
drunk with high spirits, and with the conviction that he
could manage foreign affairs as nobody else could manage
them. No doubt he knew far more about continental
affairs than any of his English contemporaries ; but he
made the fatal mistake which other brilliant foreign sec-
VOL. XL — 11

242 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, ch.xxxtii.
retaries have made in their foreign policy : he took too
little account of the English people and of prosaic public
opinion at home. In happy intoxication of this kind he
reeled and revelled along his political career like a man
delighting in a wild ride after an exciting midnight orgy.
He did not note the coming of the cold gray dawn, and
of the day when his goings-on would become the wonder
of respectable and commonplace observers.
The cold gray dawn came, however, and the day. The
public opinion of the country could not be kept from ob
serving and pronouncing on the doings of Carteret. Car
teret felt sure that he was safe in the favor and the sup
port of the King. He did not remember that the return
of every cold gray dawn was telling more and more
against him. The King, who, with all his vagaries and
brutalities, had a considerable fund of common-sense, Avas
beginning to see that, much as he liked Carteret person
ally, the time Avas fast approaching when Carteret would
have to be thrown overboard. The day when the King
could rule without the House of Commons was gone. The
day when the House of Commons could rule Avithout the
Sovereign had not come.
In truth, the Patriots were now put at a sad disadvan
tage. It is a great triumph to overthrow a great Minis
try, but the triumph often carries with it a responsibili
ty which is too much for the victors to bear, and which
turns them into the vanquished before long. So it fared
Avith the Patriots, While they were in opposition they
had promised, as Sallust says Catiline and his friends did,
seas and mountains. Now the time had come to show
what they really could do ; and, behold, they could do
nothing. An opposition has a safe time of it which, be
ing directly adverse on some distinct question, principle,
or policy to the party in power, it is able to say, " Let us
come into office and we will do the very opposite; we
will try to undo all that the present ministers have been
doing," and is able to carry out the pledge. But the op
position to Walpole had lived and flourished by finding

1743. AN IRREPARABLE MISTAKE. 243
fault Avith everything he did merely because it was he
who did it, and with his way of doing everything merely
because it was his way. Nothing can be easier than for a
group of clever and unscrupulous men to make it hot for
even the strongest minister if they will only adopt such a
plan of action. This was the plan of action of the Patriots,
and they carried it out boldly, thoroughly, brilliantly, and
successfully. But now that they had come into office
they found that they had not come into power. The claim
to power had still to be earned for them by the success
of their administration; and what was there for them to
do ? Nothing — positively nothing — but just what their
defeated opponents had been trying to do. Hanoverian
policy, Hanoverian subsidies, foreign soldiers, standing
armies — these were the crimes for which Walpole's ad
ministration had been unsparingly assailed. But now
came Carteret, and Carteret was on the whole rather more
Hanoverian than the King himself. Pulteney? Why,
such influence as Pulteney still had left was given to
support Newcastle and Pelham, Walpole's own pupils and
followers, in carrying out Carteret's Hanoverian policy.
Carteret set up Lord Bath as leader of the Adminis
tration. The two Pelhams — the Duke of Newcastle and
his brother, Henry Pelham — were tremendously strong in
family influence, in money, in retainers, led-captains, and
hangers-on of all kinds. Pulteney, who had always held
a seat nominally in the Cabinet, although he had hitherto
clung to his determination not to take office, now sudden
ly thought fit to change his mind. Probably he already
regretted deeply the fatal mistake which had made him
refuse to accept any office on the fall of Walpole. Per
haps he had fancied that the country and the Government
never could get on without him, and that he would have
been literally forced to withdraw his petulant self-deny
ing ordinance. But the mistake was fatal, irreparable.
The country did not insist on having him back at any
price ; the country did not seem to have been thinking
about him at all. Now, when there seemed to be some-

244 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxtii.
thing like a new opportunity opening for him on the death
of Lord Wilmington, he had the weakness to consent to
be put up as a candidate for the position of Prime-min
ister, The effort proved a failure. The Pelhams were
not only powerful in themselves, but they were powerful
also in the support of Walpole. Walpole still had great
influence over the King, and he naturally threw all that
influence into the scale of the men who represented his
own policy, and not into the scale of those who represent
ed the policy of his enemies. Walpole and the Pelhams
carried the day ; Henry Pelham became Prime-minister,
and from that time the power of Carteret was gone. This
was in 1743 — we are now going back a little to take up
threads which had to be dropped in order to deal with
the events springing out of the continental war, and espe
cially the rebellion in Scotland — and in November, 1744,
Carteret was driven to resign his office. He had just
become Earl Granville by the death of his mother, and
was exiled to the House of Lords.
The King, however, still kept up his desire td get back
Lord Granville and to get rid of the Pelhams. George
had sense enough to despise the two brothers, and sense
enough also to see when he could not do without them.
During the February of 1746, while the Stuart rebellion
was still aflame, a ministerial crisis came on. The Pel
hams wished to bring Pitt into the Ministry; the King
blankly refused. But the King did more than that: he
began to negotiate privately with Lord Granville and Lord
Bath. The Pelhams knew their strength. They at once
threw up their offices ; the whole Ministry resigned in a
body. The King found that Carteret could not possibly
form an administration which would have any support
worth a moment's consideration in either House of Par
liament. The fortunes of Charles Stuart were still look
ing bright in the north, and the King found himself with
out a Ministry. There was no course open to him but one,
and that was to recognize the strength of the Pelhams
and their followers, and to take back Newcastle and his

1743-1746. THE "BROAD-BOTTOMED MINISTRY." 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 Avas not likely soon
again to trouble them with any hostile intervention. Thus
these two men, one stupid beyond sounding, the other of
only fair abilities, rising a little above mediocrity, had
gone into battle with some of the greatest statesmen and
orators of the age, and had come out victorious.
H-enry Pelham's administration was known by the slang
nickname of the " Broad-bottomed Ministry." It is known
by that nickname in history still ; will doubtless ahvays
keep the title. The great overmastering passion of the
Pelhams Avas the desire to keep office and power in their
hands at any price. Of the two brothers Henry Pelham
was by far the abler man. His idea was to get around
him all the really capable administrators and debaters of
every party, and thus make up a Ministry Avhich should
be all-powerful, and of which all the power should be in
his hands. Like his brother, the Duke of Newcastle, he
had a sort of half good-natured cynicism which never
allowed him to doubt that if the offices were offered to
the men, the men would on any conditions accept the
offices. The events that he had lately seen had not in
duced him in any way to modify his opinion. He had
heard Pitt thundering away against Carteret in exactly
the same strain as Pitt and Carteret used to thunder
against Walpole. He had heard Pitt denounce Carteret
as "an execrable, a sole minister, who had ruined the
British nation, and seemed to have drunk of the potion
described in poetic fiction Avhich made men forget their
country." He had seen the policy of Walpole quietly
carried out by the very men who had belloAved against
Walpole, and had succeeded at last in driving him from
office forever. He knew that 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 the Right of Search, His idea, therefore, was to get all
the capable men of the various parties together, form them

246 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxtii.
into an administration, and leave them to enjoy their
dignity and their emoluments while the King and he gov
erned the country. It was in this spirit 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
into his Ministry any one who could be of the slightest
use to him. He would have kept Lord Carteret if Car
teret had not made himself impossible.
The time had already come when Chesterfield had to
be taken into the Administration again. He had made
himself so particularly disagreeable to the King when
out of office, he had raked the Government, and even the
Court, so hotly with satire and invective in the House of
Lords, that George reluctantly admitted that it was bet
ter to try to live with such 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, and at the
same time it was very desirable that a place should be
found which 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's admitted
genius for diplomacy, and accordingly he was sent back
to his old quarters at the Hague. He rendered some good
service there ; and then suddenly the office of Viceroy of
Ireland became vacant, and Chesterfield was called from
the Hague and sent to Dublin Castle in 1745. He had
known nothing of Ireland ; he had never before been put
in any position where his gift of governing could be tried.
The gift of governing is of course something entirely dif
ferent from the gift of managing diplomatic business ;
and Chesterfield had as yet had no chance of proving any
capacity but that of a parliamentary orator and a diplo
matist. "Administration," according to Aristotle, "shows
the man." Every one remembers the superb and only
too often quoted Latin sentence which tells of one who
by the consent of all would have been declared capable

1745. THE CHESTERFIELD OF DUBLIN CASTLE. 247
of ruling if only he had not ruled. Administration was to
shoAV the real Chesterfield. He Avas just the sort of per
son to whom one would have expected the Latin saying
to apply. What a likely man, everybody might have said,
to make a great administrator, if only he had not admin
istered ! Chesterfield's record, however, must be read the
other way. If he had never had the chance of adminis
tering the affairs of Ireland, how should Ave ever have
known that he had a genius for governing men?
For, in the minds of all Avho understand these times
and those, Chesterfield's short season of rule in Ireland
was by far the greatest period of his career. The Ches
terfield of Dublin Castle was as high above the Chester
field of the House of Lords as Goldsmith the poet is above
Goldsmith the historian, or Blackstone the constitutional
lawyer is above Blackstone the poet. Judging of Ches
terfield's conduct in the Irish Viceroyalty by Chesterfield's
past career, men Avould have been entitled to assume that
his sympathies would go altogether Avith the governing
race in Ireland. With them were the wealth, the rank,
the fashion, the elegance, the refinement. With them was
the easy-going profession of State religion — just the sort
of thing that suited Chesterfield's ways. What sympathy
could such a man as he have Avith the Celtic and Catholic
Irishman ? Why should he care to be popular with such
a population ? Even such gifted, and, on the whole,
patriotic Protestants as Swift only sympathized with the
Catholic Celts as an Englishman living in Virginia, in the
old plantation days, might have sympathized with the
population of negro slaves. Chesterfield might have en
tered on his formal task in the temper of graceful levity
and high-bred languid indifference. He might have al
lowed the cultured and respectable gentlemen who were
his permanent officials to manage things as they had long
been doing before his time, pretty much in their own way.
He might have given them politely to understand that so
long as they spared him any trouble in his unthankful
task he would back them up in anything they did. He

248 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxni.
might have made it plain to the Protestant gentry and
the Castle folk that his sympathies were all with them ;
that he desired only to mix with them ; and that it really
did not much matter what the outer population in Ire
land thought of him or of them. Thus he would easily
have become the darling of Dublin Castle ; and to most
Irish Viceroys the voice of Dublin Castle was the voice
of Ireland ; at all events, the only voice in Ireland to
which they cared to listen.
What did Chesterfield find in Ireland when he came to
undertake the task of government in Dublin Castle ? He
found a people oppressed almost beyond endurance by a
cruel and barbarous system of penal laws directed against
the profession and the practice of the faith to which they
were passionately devoted. No people in the world's his
tory, not even the Scottish Covenanters, were more abso
lutely absorbed by the zeal of their faith than the Irish
Catholic Celts. The Penal Laws were devised and were
being worked with the avowed intention of extirpating
either the faith or the race — or, better still, the faith and
the race. "The Irish," said Dr. Johnson, " bursting forth,"
as his biographer tells us, " with a generous indignation,"
"are in a most unnatural state, for Ave see there the mi
nority prevailing over the majority. There is no instance,
even in the ten persecutions, of such severity as that
which the Protestants of Ireland have exercised against
the Catholics." The Revolution, which had brought lib
erty of worship to England, had only brought harsher
and more cruel repressive legislation against liberty of
Avorship in Ireland. Where Chesterfield got the ideas
which he carried out from the first in his government
of Ireland it is hard to understand. He must have had
that gift of spontaneous sympathy which is the very in
stinct of genius in the government of a people among
whom one has not been born, among whom one has
scarcely lived. His mind seems to have taken in at
a glance the whole state of things. Talleyrand said of
Alexander Hamilton, the great American statesman, that

1745. THE STATE OF IRELAND. 249
he had "divined Europe." Chesterfield had apparently
divined Ireland.
The twin curses of Ireland at the time were the Penal
Laws and the corrupt administration of Dublin Castle.
Chesterfield determined to strike a heavy blow at each of
these evil things. He saw that the baneful class ascen
dency which was engendered by the Penal Laws was as
bad in the end for the oppressors as for the oppressed.
He saw that it was poisoning those who were administer
ing it as well as those against whom it was administered.
He could not abolish the Penal Laws or get them re
pealed. No man in his senses could have hoped to get
the existing Parliament either of England or of Ireland
to do anything then with the Penal Laws, except perhaps
to try to make them a little more severe and more tor
menting. Chesterfield did not waste a thought on any
such device. He simply resolved that he would not put
the Penal Laws into action. It has been said of Chester
field's administration in Ireland that it was a policy which,
with certain reservations, Burke himself might have origi
nated and owned, Chesterfield took the government en
tirely into his OAvn hands. He did his very best to sup
press the jobbery which had become a tradition in the
officialism of Dublin Castle. He established schools wher
ever he could. He tried to encourage and foster new
branches of manufacture, and to give a free way to trade,
and a stimulus to all industrial arts and crafts. He
showed himself a strong man, determined to repress crime
and outrage, but he showed himself also a just and a
merciful man, determined not to create new crimes in the
hope of repressing the old offences. The curse of Irish
repressive government has always been its tendency to
make fresh crimes, crimes unknown to the ordinary law.
Chesterfield would have nothing of the kind. More than
that, he would not recognize as offences the State-made
crimes which so many of his predecessors had shown
themselves ruthless in trying to repress. The confidence
of the people began to revive under his rule. The Irish
11*

260 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, ch. xxxtii.
Catholic began to find that although the Penal Laws still
existed, in all their blood-thirsty and stupid clauses, he
might profess and practise his religion without the slight
est fear of the informer, the prison, the transport ship, or
the hangman. Chesterfield asked for no additional troops
from England. On the contrary, he sent away some of
the soldiers in Ireland to help the cause of the empire on
the Continent. He was buoyant with a well-grounded
confidence ; and there was something contagious in his
fearless generosity and justice. The Irish people soon
came to understand him, and almost to adore him. He
was denounced, of course, by the alarmists and the cow
ards ; by the Castle hacks and the furious anti-Catholic
bigots. Chesterfield let them denounce as long and as
loudly as seemed good to them. He never troubled him
self about their wild alarms and their savage clamor.
Probably no Irishman who ever liA'ed was a more bitter
and uncompromising enemy of English rule in Ireland
than John Mitchel, the rebel of 1848. His opinion, there
fore, is worth having as to the character of Chesterfield's
rule in Dublin Castle. In his "History of Ireland," a
book which might well be more often read in this country
than it is, Mitchel says of Chesterfield : " Having satisfied
himself that there was no insurrectionary movement in
the country, and none likely to be, he was not to be moved
from his tolerant courses by any complaints or remon
strances. Far from yielding to the feigned alarm of
those who solicited him to raise new regiments, he sent
four battalions of the soldiers then in Ireland to reinforce
the Duke of Cumberland. He discouraged jobs, kept
down expenses. . . . When some savage Ascendency Prot
estant would come to him with tales of alarm, he usually
turned the conversation into a tone of light badinage
which perplexed and baffled the man. One came to seri
ously put his lordship on his guard by acquainting him
with the fact that his own coachman was in the habit of
going to mass. ' Is it possible ?' cried Chesterfield : ' then
I will take care the fellow shall not drive me there.' A

1745-1746. CHESTERFIELD'S RECALL. 251
courtier burst into his apartment one morning, Avhile he
was sipping his chocolate in bed, with the startling in
telligence that the Papists were rising in Connaught.
' Ah,' he said, looking at his watch, ' 'tis nine o'clock —
time for them to rise !' There was evidently no dealing
Avith such a viceroy as this, who showed such insensibility
to the perils of Protestantism and the evil designs of the
dangerous Papists. Indeed he Avas seen to distinguish by
his peculiar admiration a Papist beauty. Miss Ambrose,
whom he declared to be the only ' dangerous Papist 'he
had met in Ireland." Chesterfield himself has left an ex
position of his policy which we may well believe to be
genuine. "I came determined," he wrote many yeai-s
after, " to proscribe no set of persons whatever, and de
termined to be governed by none. Had the Papists made
any attempt to put themselves above the law, I should
have taken good care to have quelled them again. It was
said that my lenity to the Papists had wrought no altera
tion either in their religious or their political sentiments.
I did not expect that it would ; but surely that was no
reason for cruelty towards them."
It is true that Lord Chesterfield's conduct in Ireland
has been found fault with by no less devoted a friend of
Ireland than Burke, In his letter to a peer of Ireland on
the Penal Laws against the Irish Catholics, Burke says :
" This man, while he was duping the credulity of Papists
with fine Avords in private, and commending their good
behavior during a rebellion in Great Britain — as it well de
served to be commended and rewarded — was capable of urg
ing penal laws against them in a speech from the Throne,
and of stimulating with provocatives the wearied and half-
exhausted bigotry of the then Parliament of Ireland,"
But Burke Avas a man whose public virtue was too high
and unbending to permit him to make allowance for the
political arts and crafts of a Chesterfield. It is quite true
that Chesterfield recommended in his speech that the Irish
Parliament should inquire into the working of the Penal
Laws in order to find out if they needed any improve-

252 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, ch. xxxtii.
ment. But this was a mere piece of stage-play to amuse
and to beguile the stupidity and the bigotry of the Irish
Parliament of those days. It was not a stroke of policy
which a man like Burke would have condescended to or
could have approved ; but it must have greatly delighted
the cynical humor of such a man as Chesterfield. At all
events it is certain that during his administration Chester
field succeeded in winning the confidence and the admira
tion of the Catholics of Ireland — that is to say, of five-
sixths of the population of the country. He was very
soon recalled ; perhaps the King did not quite like his
growing popularity in Ireland ; and when he left Dublin
he was escorted to the ship's side by an enthusiastic con
course of people, who pressed around him to the last and
prayed of him to return soon to Ireland. Chesterfield
did not return to Ireland. He was made one of the Sec
retaries of State, and the Dublin Castle administration
went on its old familiar way. But there is even still
among the Irish people a lingering tradition of the rule
of Lord Chesterfield, and of the noAV system which he
tried for a while to establish in the government of their
island.

1743. NUCLEUS OF THE ANGLO-INDIAN EMPIRE. 253

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
PEIMUS IN INDIS.
Befoeb the Jacobite rising had been put down, or the
Pelhams absolutely set up, England, without knowing it,
had sent forth a iicav conqueror, and might already have
hailed the first promises of sway over one of the most
magnificent empires of the earth. The name of the new
conqueror was Robert Clive ; the name of the magnificent
empire was India,
At that time the influence of England over India was
small to insignificance — a scrap of Bengal, the island and
town of Bombay, Madras, and a fort or two. The aver
age Englishman's knowledge of India was small even to
non-existence. The few Englishmen who ever looked
with eyes of intelligent information upon that great tract
of territory, leaf -shaped, and labelled India on the maps,
knew that the English possessions therein were few and
paltry. Three quite distinct sections, called presidencies,
each independent of the two others, and all governed by
a supreme authority whose offices were in Leadenhall
Street in London, represented the meagre nucleus of what
was yet to be the vast Anglo-Indian Empire. The first
of these three presidencies was the Bombay presidency,
where the Indian Ocean washes the Malabar coast. The
second was in the Carnatic, on the eastern side of the
leaf, where the waters of the Bay of Bengal wash the
Coromandel coast, where the forts of St. George and St,
David protected Madras and a smaller settlement. The
third presidency was up towards the north, where the sa
cred Ganges, rushing through its many mouths to the sea,
floods the Hoogly. Here the town of Calcutta was grow
ing up around Fort William.

264 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxitiii.
These three little presidencies, plying their poor trade,
and depending for defence upon their ill-disciplined native
soldiers, the Sepahis, whom we have come to call Sepoys,
were all that had grown out of the nearly two centuries
of relations with the leaf-shaped Indian land since flrst,
in 1591, Captain Lancaster sailed the seas; since first
the East India Company sprang into existence. It was
not an agreeable two centuries for Englishmen who ever
thought of India to read about. Two centuries of squab-
blings and strugglings with Dutch settlers and with Port
uguese settlers, of desperate truckling to native princes.
In 1664 the English East India Company found a rival
more formidable than the Dutch or the Portuguese in the
French East India Company, which the astuteness of Col
bert set up at Pondicherry, and which throve with a ra
pidity that quite eclipsed the poor progress of the English
traders. Even when, in 1708, the old East India Comj)any
united its fortunes with the new Indian Company that
had been formed, and thus converted one rival into an
ally, the superiority of the French remained uncontested,
and daily waxed greater and greater, until it began to
seem as if, in the words of Antony to Cleopatra, all the
East should call her mistress.
Such was the condition of affairs in the year 1743,
when the apparently insignificant fact that a young gen
tleman of a ne'er-do-well disposition, who seemed likely
to come to a bad end in England, and who was according
ly shipped off to India by his irritated relations, altered
and exalted the destinies not merely of a wealthy trading
company, but of the British Crown. In the market town
of Drayton-in-Hales, better known as Market-Drayton, in
Shropshire, there lived, in the reign of George the First,
a Mr. Richard Clive — a man whose comparatively meagre
abilities were divided between the profession of the law
and the cares of a small and not very valuable estate. In
the little town on the river Tern, within sight of the old
church built by Stephen, whose architectural character
istics were then happily unaltered by the hand of the

1725-1743. THE OLIVES OF MARKET-DRAYTON. 255
eighteenth century restorer, the Clives had been born
and given in marriage and died, and repeated the round
ever since the tAvelfth century. Mr. Richard Clive, in the
reign of George the First, married a Manchester lady
named Gaskill, who bore him many children of no note
whatever, but who bore him one very noteworthy child
indeed, his eldest son Robert, on September 29th, in the
year 1725,
There was a time, a long time too, during which the
worthy Mr. Richard Clive persisted in regarding the birth
of this eldest son as little less than a curse. He could
very well have said of Robert Avhat the Queen-mother
says of Richard of Gloster, tetchy and Avayward was his
infancy. Seldom was there born into the world a more
stubborn-minded, high-spirited boy. He may remind us a
little of the young Mirabeau in his strenuous impassioned
youth; in the estimate which those nearest to him, and
most ignorant of him, formed of the young lion cub in the
domestic litter ; in the strange promise Avhich the great
career fulfilled. There was a kind of madness in the imp
ish pranks which the boy Clive played in Market-Dray
ton, scaring the timid and scandalizing the respectable.
He climbed to the top of the lofty steeple of that church,
which dated from the days of Stephen, and perched him
self upon a stone spout near the dizzy summit with a cool
courage which Stephen himself might have envied. He
got round him from among the idle lads of the town " a
list of lawless resolutes," and, like David, made himself a
captain over them for the purpose of levying a kind of
guerilla warfare upon the shopkeepers of the little town,
and making them pay tribute for the sanctity of their
windows. In fact, he behaved as wildly as the wildest
school-boy could behave — drifting from school to school,
to learn nothing from each new master, and only to leave
behind at each the record of an incorrigible reprobate.
Nobody seems to have discovered that there was anything
of the man of genius in the composition of the incorrigible
reprobate, and so it came about that the town of Market-

256 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. caxxxTiii.
Drayton in general, and the respectable family of the
Clives in particular, breathed more freely when it was
known that young Robert was " bound to John Company "
— that he had accepted a writership in the East India Serv
ice, and had actually sailed for Madras.
The career to which the young Clive was thus devoted
did not, on the face of it, appear to be especially brilliant.
The voyage in itself, to begin with, was a terrible busi
ness ; a six months' voyage was then regarded as an as
tonishingly quick passage, and in Clive's case the voyage
was longer even than usual. It was more than a year
after he left England before he arrived at Madras, as his
ship had stayed for some 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 friends in
India, and made no friends for many months after his ar
rival. It would, be hard to think of a more desolate posi
tion for a proud, shy, high-spirited lad with a strong strain
of melancholy in his composition. We find him sighing
for Manchester with all the profound and pathetic longing
which inspires the noble old English ballad of " Farewell,
Manchester." It is not easy for us of to-day, who associ
ate the name of Manchester with one of the greatest manu
facturing towns in the world, to appreciate to the full
either the spirit of the old ballad or the longing aspiration
which Clive had to see again Manchester, " the centre of
all my wishes." But if he was homesick, if he was lonely,
if he Avas poor in pocket and weak in health, shadoAved by
melancholy and saddened by exile, he never for a moment
suffered his pride to abate or his courage to sink. He
treated his masters of the East India Company with the
same scornful spirit which he had of old shown to the
shopkeepers of Market-Drayton and the school-masters of
Shropshire. In the wretched mood of mind and body that Clive
owned during his early days at Madras the constitutional
melancholy asserted itself with conquering force, and he

1707. THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF BABER. 257
twice attempted his life. On each occasion the pistol
which he turned upon his desperate and disordered brain
missed fire. Yet Clive had meant most thoroughly and
consistently to kill himself. He did not, like Byron, dis
cover, after the attempt was made, that the weapon he
had aimed at his life Avas not loaded. Each time the pistol
was properly charged and primed, and each time it was
the accident of the old flint-lock merely causing a flash
in the pan which saved his life. In a nature that is mel
ancholy a tinge of superstition is appropriate, and it is
hardly surprising if Clive saAV in the successive chance a
proof that he was not meant as yet to perish by self-
slaughter. "I must be destined for great things," he
thought, and he was right. BetAveen that attempt at sui
cide and the next lay long years of unexampled glory, lay
the pomp of Oriental courts and the glitter of Oriental
warfare, lay the foundation and establishment of that
empire of India which is to-day one of the greatest glo
ries of the British Crown — an empire mightier, wealthier,
statelier than any which Aurungzebe swayed, and whose
might and wealth and state were mainly due to the cour
age and the genius of the lonely, melancholy lad, the
humble writer in the service of John Company, who had
endeavored in his solitude and his despair to end his
young life at the muzzle of his pistol.
What was the condition of India at the time when
Clive was making unavailing efforts to cut short his ca
reer ? The country itself was given over to the wildest
confusion. With the death of Aurungzebe, in 1707, the
majestic empire of the House of Baber came to an end.
The empire of Alexander did not crumble more disas
trously to pieces after the death of the Macedonian prince
than did the empire of the Moguls fall to pieces after the
death of Aurungzebe. The pitiable and despicable suc
cessors of a great prince, worse than Sardanapalus, worse
than the degraded Cajsars of the basest days of Byzantium,
squandered their unprofitable hours in shameful pleas
ure while the great empire fell to pieces, trampled by the

258 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxviii.
conquering feet of Persian princes, of Afghan invaders, of
wild Mahratta chiefs. Between the fierce invaders from
the northern hills who ravaged, and levied tribute, and
established dominion of their own, and such still power
ful viceroys as held their oAvn, and offered a nominal
allegiance to the Mogul line, the glory of the race of
Tamerlane Avas dimmed indeed. It occurred to one
man, watching all the welter of the Indian world, Avhere
Mussulman and Hindoo struggled for supremacy — it oc
curred to Dupleix that in this struggle lay the opportunity
for some European power — for his European power — for
France — ^to gain for herself, and for the daring adventurer
who should shape her Oriental policy, an influence hither
to undreamed of by the statesmen of the West. It was
not given to Dupleix to guess that Avhat he dreamed of
and nearly accomplished was to be carried out at last by
Robert Clive.
The history of French empire in India contains two
specially illustrious names — the name of La Bourdonnais
and the name of Dupleix. The first had practically called
into existence the two colonies of the He de France and
of Bourbon; the second had founded the town of Chander-
nagor, in the bay of Bengal, and, as governor-general of
the French East India Company, had established himself
at Pondicherry with all the luxury and more than all the
luxury of a veritable Oriental prince. It may be that if
these two men had been better able to agree together the
fortunes of the French nation in the Indies might have been
very different. But a blind and iincom23romising jealousy
divided them. Whatever Dupleix did was wrong in the
eyes of La Bourdonnais; whatever La Bourdonnais did
was wrong in the eyes of Dupleix; and Dupleix was the
stronger man of the two, and he finally triumphed for a
time. In the war that Avas raging La Bourdonnais saw
his opportunity. He determined to anticipate Dupleix
in beginning hostilities against the English in India. He
set sail from the island of Bourbon with a fleet of nine
vessels which he had equipped at his proper cost, and an

1746. LA BOURDONNAIS. 259
army of some three thousand men, which included a large
proportion of negroes. After a successful engagement with
the ships of war under the command of Admiral Burnett,
outside Madras, La Bourdonnais disembarked, besieged
Madras, and compelled the town to capitulate. So far the
star of La Bourdonnais was in the ascendent; but the terms
which he exacted from the conquered town were, by their
very moderation, the means of his undoing. With the keys
of the conquered town in his hand, with the French colors
floating bravely from Fort St. George, with all the stored
wealth of the company as spoils of war. La Bourdonnais
thought that he might be not unlenient in the terms he
accorded to his enemies. He allowed the English inhabi
tants of Madras to remain prisoners of war on parole, and
stipulated that the town should remain in his hands until
the payment of a ransom of some nine millions of francs.
The triumph of La Bourdonnais aroused, however, not
the admiration but the jealousy of Dupleix. Out of La
Bourdonnais's very victory the cunning of Dupleix dis
covered a means to humiliate his rival. The vague
schemes which he had formed for the authority of France,
and for his influence in India, did not at all jump with
the restoration of Madras, once conquered, to the English.
He declared that La Bourdonnais had gone beyond his
powers ; that terms to the vanquished on Indian soil could
be made by the Governor of Pondicherry and the Gov
ernor of Pondicherry alone. He refused to ratify La
Bourdonnais's convention, and, instead, declaced that the
capitulation was at an end, marched upon Madras, insisted
upon the pillage and destruction of a great portion of the
town, arrested a large number of the leading Englishmen,
including the Governor of Fort St. George, and conveyed
them with all circumstances of public ignominy to Pondi
cherry. As for La Bourdonnais, who had taken so gallant
a step to secure French supremacy in India, he was placed
under arrest and sent to France, where the Bastille await
ed him ; he had fallen before his vindictive rival.
The inhabitants of Madras, smarting under what may

260 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxtiii.
fairly be called the treachery of Dupleix, considered
rightly that they were no longer bound by the convention
with the luckless La Bourdonnais. One at least of the
inhabitants was a man not likely to be bound by the mere
letter of a convention which had already been broken in
the spirit. Clive disguised himself as a Mussulman — we
may be permitted to wonder how a man who to the end
of his days remained eccentrically ignorant 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 cour
age which had carried him to the top of the tower of
Stephen's church, and which had enabled him to overawe
the " military bully who was the terror of Fort St. David,"
now found its best vent in " welcoming the French," like
the hero of Burns's ballad, " at the sound of the drum."
The peace which was concluded between England and
France sent Clive for a season, however, back to the
counting-house, and gave back Madras again to the Eng
lish company.
But the ambition of Dupleix was not a thing to be
bounded by the circumscription of war or peace between
England and France. England and France might be at
peace, but there was no need that the English East India
Company and the French East India Company should be
at peace as well. The internal troubles of India afforded
Dupleix the opportunity he coveted of pushing his own
fortunes, and doing his best to drive the English trad
ers out of the field. Unfortunately for him, however, his
opportunity was also the opportunity of the young writer
and ensign who had already won the admiration and the
esteem of Major Lawrence, then looked upon as the flrst
English officer in India.
While the French still held Madras, before the Treaty
of Aix-la-Chapelle compelled the reluctant Dupleix to re
store it to the English, a military episode, which might
almost be called an accident, had helped to confirm enor
mously the influence of France in India. The Nabob of

1748. THE DREAM OF DUPLEIX. 261
the Carnatic, offended by the action of the English gov
ernor of Madras, who had omitted to send him those pres
ents which are essential to all stages of Oriental diplo
macy, had practically winked at the action of the more
liberal-handed Dupleix in his movement against Madras.
When, too late, the Nabob heard of the fall of Madras,
he sent an army to recapture the town, and called upou
the French governor to surrender it. The governor was
Duval D'Espremesnil, the father of that mad D'Espre-
mesnil who fuliginates through a portion of the French
Revolution. He refused to obey the Nabob, opened fire
upon his forces, and repulsed them. The repulse was fol
lowed a little later by a vigorous attack of the French
troops under Paradis, which smashed the armament of
the Nabob to pieces at St. Thome on November 4, 1746.
This victory gave the French a prestige of which Du
pleix was the very man to appreciate the full importance.
When, in 1748, Nizam- Al-Mulk, the Viceroy of the Dec-
can, died, there arose at once pretenders not merely to the
Deccan viceroyalty, but also to the government of the
Carnatic. The first was claimed by Mirzapha Jung ; the
second by Chunda Sahib. Mirzapha Jung and Chunda
Sahib, profoundly impressed by the triumph of French
arms two years earlier, appealed to Dupleix to help them,
joined their forces, and invaded the Carnatic.
Dupleix Avas not unwilling to listen to the appeal of
the invaders. He saw that the chance had arisen for him
to constitute himself the Warwick, the king-maker, of
India. He lent all the force of his European troops, of
his native troops trained in the European fashion, and of
' the prestige of France to the invaders. The old Nabob
of the Carnatic, Anaverdi Khan, was defeated and killed.
His son fled with his broken army to Trichinopoly, and
the invaders nominally, and Dupleix actually, reigned su
preme in the Carnatic.
At that moment the sun of Dupleix's fortunes reached
its zenith. He was the chosen companion and confidant
of the new Nizam of the Deccan; he was made Governor

262 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEOHGES. ch. xxxtiii.
of India from the river Kristna to Cape Comorin; he
pomped it with more than Oriental splendor in the pag
eantries of triumph at Pondicherry; he set up on the
scene of his victory a stately column, bearing in four
languages inscriptions celebrating his fame ; he had treas
ure, power, and infiuence even to his ambitious heart's
content. When Mirzapha Jung died, shortly after his
accession to the government of the Deccan, Dupleix held
equal influence over his successor. He might well have
believed that his glory was complete, his plans perfected ;
he might well have believed that he could afford to smile
at the feeble efforts which the English made to stay his
progress. He soon ceased to smile. Clive, then five-and-twenty
years old, urged upon his superiors that Trichinopoly
must soon fall before famine and leaguer, that with the
overthrow of the House of Anaverdi Khan the power of
the French over India would be established, and the power
of the English in India destroyed. The great deed to be
done was to raise the siege of Trichinopoly. This Clive
coolly proposed to do by effecting a counter-diversion in
besieging Arcot, the favored home of the Nabobs. With
a little handful of an army — 200 Europeans and 300
Sepoys — Clive marched through the wildest weather to
Arcot, captured it, and prepared to hold his conquest.
We may perhaps here be permitted to say that in using,
as Ave shall continue to do, the old familiar forms of spell
ing the names of Indian towns and of Indian princes, we do
so not in ignorance of the fact that in many, if not most
cases, they present but a very poor idea indeed of the
actual Oriental sounds and spelling. The modern writers
on Indian history adopt a new and more scientific spell
ing, which makes Arcot Arkat, and Trichinopoly Trichin-
dpalli. But, all things considered, it seems best for the
present to adhere to those old forms which have become,
as it were, portion and parcel of English history.
Chunda Sahib, who was besieging Trichinopoly, im
mediately despatched 4000 men against Arcot, which.

1751. THE DEFENCE OF ARCOT. 263
joining with the defeated garrison and a few French,
made up a muster of some 10,000 men under Rajah Sahib,
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 in which the fiction of
the elder Dumas delighted than the sober chronicle of
recorded warfare. For fifty days the siege raged. For
fifty days Rajah Sahib did his best to take the town, and
for fifty days Clive and his little band of Europeans and
Sepoys frustrated all his efforts. The stubborn defence
began to create allies. The fighting capacity of the Eng
lish had come to be regarded with great contempt by the
native races, but the contempt was now rapidly changing
to admiration, Murari Rao, the great Mahratta leader,
Avho had been hired to assist the cause of Mohammed All,
but who had hitherto hung in idleness upon the Carnatic
frontier, convinced that the English must be defeated,
now declared that since he had learned that the " English
could fight," he was willing to fight for them, and with
them, and prepared to move to the assistance of Clive.
Before they could arrive. Rajah Sahib made a desperate
last effort to capture Arcot, was completely defeated with
great loss, and withdrew from Arcot, leaving Clive and
his little army masters of the place.
Great was the glory of Clive in Fort St. George ; but
Clive was not going to content himself with so much and
no more. With an army increased to nearly a thousand
men, he assailed the enemy, defeated Rajah Sahib once
and again, and in his triumphal progress caused to be
razed to the ground the memorial city which the pride of
Dupleix had erected to his victory, and the vaunting mon
ument which set forth in four languages the glory of his
deeds. The astonished Nabobs began for the first time
to Understand that the glory of France was not invincible,
that a new star had arisen before which the star of Dupleix
must pale, and might vanish. The star of Clive continued
to mount. Though the arrival of Major LaAvrence from

264 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxvni.
England took away from his hands the chief command,
he worked under Lawrence as gallantly as when he was
alone responsible for his desperate undertakings, and suc
cess, as before, followed all the enterprises in which he
was concerned.
Trichinopoly was relieved; Chunda Sahib was captured
by the Mahrattas and put to death; Covelong and Ching-
keput, tAVO of the most important French forts, were capt
ured by Clive with an army as unpromising as Falstaff's
ragged regiment. At this point, and on the full tide of
victory, Clive's health broke down, and he was compelled
to return to England for change of climate. Before he
left Madras he married Miss Maskelyne. Never did a
man return to his native land under more auspicious con
ditions who had gone thence under conditions so inauspi
cious. The bad boy of Market-Drayton was now the il
lustrious and opulent soldier whom the gentlemen of the
India House delighted to salute as General Clive, and
about Avhom it seemed as if it was impossible for the nation
to make too much ado.
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 opportunity of entering Parliament.
He came forward as one of the members for St. Michael's
in Cornwall, was opposed by Newcastle, and supported by
Sandwich and Fox, was returned, was petitioned against,
and was unseated on petition. To fight a parliamentary
election in those days meant the spending of a very
great deal of money, and Clive, who had squandered his
well-earned fortune right and left since his return to his
native land, found himself, after he was unseated, in a
decidedly disagreeable position. His money was dwin
dling; his hope of political triumphs had vanished into thin
air; naturally enough, his thoughts turned back to the
India of his youth. The curious good-luck that always
attended upon him stood him in good stead here. If he
had need of the India of his youth, the India of his youth
had need of him. If France and England were not at

1766. BACK TO INDIA. 265
war, the rumor of war was busy between them, and there
was a desire for good leaders in the advancing English
colonies in India. Poor Dupleix was out of the way al
ready. The brilliant spirit whom Clive's genius had over
crowed had vanished forever from the scenes of his tri
umphs and his humiliations. He had suffered something
of the same hard measure that he had himself meted out
to his colleague La Bourdonnais; he had been recalled in
comparative 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 any moment
reassert itself — at any moment come to the push of arms
between France and England in the East as well as in the
West ; and where could the English look for so capable a
leader of men as Clive ? So it came about that in the year
1756 Clive again sailed the seas for India, under very dif
ferent conditions from those under which he first advent
ured for the East. Then he was an unknown, unappre
ciated rapscallion of a lad, needy, homesick, desperate,
and alone; now he was going out as the Governor of Fort
St. David, as lieutenant-colonel in the British army, with
a record of fame and fortune behind him. New fame,
new fortune, awaited him almost on the very moment of
his arrival in India. The pirate stronghold of Gheriah
fell before him almost as easily as if the place had been a
new Jericho and Clive a second Joshua. But there was
greater work in store for him than the destruction of
pirate strongholds. Bengal became suddenly the theatre
of a terrible drama. Up to the year 1756 the tranquillity
of the English settlers and traders in Bengal had been
undisturbed. Their relations Avith the Nabob Ali Vardi
Khan had been of the friendliest kind, and the very friend
liness of those relations had had the effect of making the
English residents in Bengal, like the native population,
men of a milder mould than those whom hard fortune had
fashioned into soldiers and statesmen at Madras, But in
the year 1756 the Nabob Ali Vardi Khan died, and was
VOL, 11, — 12

266 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxtiii.
succeeded by his grandson, Siraju'd Daulah, infamous in
English history as Surajah Dowlah.
This creature, who incarnated in his own proper person
all the worst vices of the East, without apparently pos
sessing any of the East's redeeming virtues, cherished a
very bitter hatred of the English. Surajah Dowlah was
unblessed with the faintest glimmerings of statesmanship;
it seemed to his enfeebled mind that it would be not only
a very good thing to drive the English out of Bengal, but
that it would be also an exceedingly easy thing to do.
All he wanted, it seemed to him, was a pretext, and to
such a mind a pretext was readily forthcoming. Had not
the English dogs fortified their settlement without his
permission ? Had they not afforded shelter to some vic
tim flying from his omnivorous rapacity? These were
pretexts good enough to serve the insane brain of Sura
jah Dowlah. He attacked Fort William with an over
whelming force; the English traders, unAvarlike, timorous,
and deserted by their leaders, made little or no resistance;
the madman had Fort William in his power, and used his
power like a madman. The memory of the Blackhole
of Calcutta still remains a mark of horror and of terror
upon our annals of Indian empire. When Lord Macaulay,
eighty-four years after the event, penned his famous pas
sage in which he declared that nothing in history or in
fiction, not even the story which Ugolino told in the sea
of everlasting ice, approached the horrors of the Black-
hole, he wrote before the worst horrors of Indian history
had yet become portion and parcel of our own history.
But even those who Avrite to-day, more than a century and
a quarter after that time; those in whose minds the mem
ories are fresh of the butcher's well at Cawnpore and the
massacre on the river-bank; those to whom the names of
Nana Sahib and Azimoolah Khan sound as horridly as the
names of fiends — even those can still think of the Black-
hole as almost incomparable in horror, and of Surajah
Dowlah as among the worst of Oriental murderers. It is
true that certain efforts have been made to reduce the

1756. THE BLACKHOLE. 267
measure of Surajah Dowlah's guilt. Colonel Malleson,
than whom there is no fairer or abler Indian historian,
thinks there can be no doubt that Surajah Dowlah did
not desire the death of his English prisoners. Mr. Hol-
well, one of the few survivors of that awful night, the
man whose narrative thrilled and still thrills, horrified and
still horrifies, the civilized Avorld, does give testimony that
goes towards clearing the character of Surajah Dowlah
from direct complicity in that terrible crime. " I had in
all three interviews with him," he wrote, " the last in Dar-
bar before seven, when he repeated his assurances to me,
on the word of a soldier, that no harm should come to us;
and, indeed, I believe his orders were only general that
Ave for that night should be secured, and that what fol
lowed was the result of revenge and resentment in the
breasts of the lower jemidars to whose custody we were
delivered for the number of their order killed during the
siege." Yet these words do not go far to cleanse Sura
jah Dowlah's memory. What had occurred ? The Eng
lish prisoners were brought before the triumphant Nabob,
bullied and insulted, and finally left in charge of the Na
bob's soldiery, while the Nabob himself retired to slumber.
The soldiery, whether prompted by revenge or mere mer
ciless cruelty, forced the prisoners, one hundred and forty-
six in number, into the garrison prison — a fearful place,
only tAventy feet square, known, as the Blackhole. The
senses sicken in reading what happened after this deter
mination was carried out. The death-struggles of those
unhappy English people crowded in that narrow space,
without air, in the fearful summer heat, stir the profound
est pity, the profoundest anguish. The Nabob's soldiers
all through that fearful night revelled in the sights and
sounds that their victims' sufferings offered to them.
When the night did end and the awakened despot did
allow the door of the Blackhole to be opened, only twen
ty-three out of the hundred and forty-six victims were
alive. The hundred and twenty-three dead bodies were
hurriedly buried in a common pit.

268 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, cu. xxxtiii.
It is simply impossible to exonerate Surajah Dowlah
from the shame and stain of that deed. The savage who
passed "the word of a soldier" that the lives of his pris
oners should be spared took no precautions to insure the
carrying out of his promise. If, as Mr. Hoi well says, the
lower jemidars were thirsting for revenge, then the Na
bob, who gave his prisoners over to the care of those jem
idars, was directly responsible for their deeds. Even in
Surajah Dowlah's army there must have been men, there
must have been officers, to whom the tyrant, if he had
wished his prisoners to be well treated, could have in
trusted them, in the full confidence and certainty that his
commands would be carried out, and his humane wishes
humanely interpreted. But even if by the utmost strain
ing we can in any degree acquit the Nabob of direct per
sonal responsibility before the act, his subsequent conduct
involves him in direct complicity, and forces upon him all
the responsibility and all the infamy. He did not punish
the miscreants who forced their victims into the Black-
hole, and who gloated over their appalling sufferings.
He did not treat the survivors with ordinary humanity.
He was evidently convinced that he could deal with the
wretched English as he pleased, that their power in In
dia was annihilated, that Surajah Dowlah was among the
mightiest princes of the earth.
For six long months, for a fantastical half-year, Surajah
Dowlah revelled in the crazy dream of his own omnipo
tence. Then came retribution, swift, successive, compre
hensive. Clive was upon him — Clive the unconquerable,
sacking his towns, putting his garrisons to the sword, re
capturing those places from which Surajah Dowlah had
imagined that he had banished the Englishman forever.
The news of the tragedy of the Blackhole, and of the
capture of Calcutta and Fort William, had reached Ma
dras in August, and the warlike community had resolved
upon prompt and speedy revenge. But it took time to
raise the expedition, took time to despatch the expedition.
In October the army of two thousand four hundred men.

1757. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 269
of which nine hundred were European troops, and fifteen
hundred Sepoys, sailed for the Hoogly, under Clive as
military, and Admiral Watson as naval, commander. Hos
tile winds delayed the armament until December, but
when it did reach its destination it carried all before it.
The luck which always attended upon Clive was still
faithful to him. The Nabob, at the head of his vast
hordes, was soon as eager to come to terms with Clive at
the head of his little handful of men as he had before
been eager to obliterate the recollection of the English
men from the soil of Bengal. He offered to treat with
Clive; he was ready to make terms which from a military
point of view were satisfactory ; he was evidently con
vinced that he had underrated the power of England, and
he was prepared to pay a heavy penalty for his blunder.
We are now approaching that chapter of Clive's career
which has served his enemies with their readiest weapon,
.and has filled his admirers with the deepest regret. The
negotiations between Clive and Surajah Dowlah were
conducted on the part of all the Orientals concerned, from
Surajah Dowlah to Omichund, the wealthy Bengalee who
played the part of go-between, with an amount of treach
ery that has not been surpassed even in the tortuous rec
ords of Oriental treachery. But unhappily the treachery
was not confined to the Oriental negotiators ; not confined
to the wretched despot on the throne ; not confined to
Meer Jaffier, the principal commander of his troops, who
wanted the throne for himself ; not confined to the un
scrupulous Omichund, who plotted with his left hand
against Surajah Dowlah, and with his right hand against
the English. Treachery as audacious, treachery more in
genious, treachery more successful, was deliberately prac
tised by Clive, The brilliant and gallant soldier of fort
une showed himself to be more than a match for Oriental
cunning in all the worst vices of a vicious Oriental diplo
macy. If Surajah Dowlah was unable to make up his mis
erable mind, if he alternately promised and denied, cajoled
and threatened, Clive, on his side, while affecting to treat

270 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, ch. xxxtiii.
with Surajah Dowlah, was deliberately supporting the
powerful conspiracy against Surajah Dowlah, the object
of which was to place Meer Jaffier on the throne. If
Omichund, with the keys of the conspiracy in his hand,
threatened to betray all to Surajah Dowlah unless he was
promised the heaviest hush-money, Clive on his side was
perfectly ready to promise without the remotest intention
of paying. If Omichund, wary and suspicious, was deter
mined to have his bond in writing, Clive was quite ready
to meet him with a false and fraudulent bond. Clive
professed to be perfectly willing that in the secret treaty
which was being drawn up between the English and
Meer Jaffier a clause should be inserted promising the
fulfilment of all Omichund's claims. But as Clive had
not the remotest intention of satisfying those claims, he
composedly prepared two treaties. One — the one by
Avhich he and Meer Jaffier were to be bound — was writ
ten on white paper, and contained no allusion to the ava
ricious Omichund. Another, on red paper, which was to
be disregarded by the parties to the swindle, contained a
paragraph according to Omichund's heart's desire. Thus
bad begins, but worse remains behind. Clive, to his great
astonishment, found that Admiral Watson entertained dif
ferent views from his about the honor of an English
soldier and gentleman. However convenient it might be
to bamboozle Omichund with a sham treaty. Admiral
Watson declined to be a party to the trick by signing his
name to the fraudulent document. Yet Admiral Wat
son's name was essential to the success of the Red Treaty,
and Clive showed that he was not a man to stick at tri
fles. He wanted Admiral Watson's signature ; he knew
that Omichund would want Admiral Watson's signature ;
he satisfied himself, and he satisfied Omichund, by forg
ing Admiral Watson's signature at the bottom of the Red
Treaty. It is simply impossible to imagine any defence of Clive's
conduct in this most disgraceful business. The best that
can be said for him is that the whole process of the trea-

1757. THE RED TREATY. 271
son was so infamous, the fabrication of the Red Treaty
so revolting a piece of duplicity, that the forging of Ad
miral Watson's name does not materially add to the dark
ness of the complete transaction. Nothing can palliate
Clive's conduct. It may, indeed, be said that as civilized
troops after long engagements in petty wars Avith savage
races lose that morale and discipline which come from
contests with their military peers, so minds steeped in the
degrading atmosphere of Oriental diplomacy become in
evitably corrupted, and lose the fine distinction between
right and wrong. But so specious a piece of special
pleading cannot serve Clive's turn. English diplomacy
at home and abroad has always, Avith the rarest excep
tions, plumed itself on its truthfulness, and has often been
successful by reason of that very truthfulness. The prac
tically unanimous condemnation which Clive's country
men then and since have passed upon his action with
regard to the Red Treaty is the best answer to all such
pitiful prevarications.
However, Clive did prepare a sham treaty, did forge
Admiral Watson's name, did fool Omichund to the top of
his bent. Omichund being thus cunningly bought over,
Clive prepared for action, flung defiance at Surajah Dow
lah, and marched against him. On June 23, 1757, the
fate of England in India Asas decided by the famous bat
tle of Plassey, or, as it should be more correctly called,
Palasi. Plassey was a great victory. Yet, in the words of the
conspirator in Ben Jonson's " Catiline," it Avas 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 paladins
who at the head of a little body of knights sweep away
whole hosts of paynims at Saragossa or Roncesvalles were
riA'alled by Clive's audacity in opposing his few regiments
to the swollen armament of the Nabob. Moreover, Meer
Jaffier, whose alliance with the English, whose treason to
Surajah Dowlah, was an important part of the scheme.

272 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES, en. xxxtiii.
was not to be counted upon. He hesitated, unwilling to
fling his fortunes into the English scale before he was
convinced that the English were certain of success, al
though he was himself one of the most important fac
tors in the possibility of that success. But the greatest
danger that threatened the English arms was, curiously
enough, due to Clive himself. On the eve of Plassey he
held a council of war at which it was discussed whether
they should fight at once or postpone fighting to what
might seem a more seasonable opportunity. Clive at this
council departed from his usual custom. He gave his
own vote first, and he voted against taking any immedi
ate action. Naturally enough, the majority of the coun
cil of war voted with Clive, in spite of the strenuous op
position of Major Eyre Coote and a small minority. By
a majority of thirteen to seven it was resolved not to
fight. It is needless to speculate on what would have been the
fortunes of the English in Bengal if that vote had settled
the question. Luckily, Clive was a man of genius, and
was not either afraid to admit that he had made a mis
take, or to change his mind. A short period of solitary
reflection convinced him that he and the majority were
wrong, and that Eyre Coote and the minority were right.
He informed Eyre Coote of his new decision, gave the
necessary orders, and the next day the battle of Plassey
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 carried all before them ; their
cannonade scattered death and confusion into the Nabob's
ranks. Within an hour an army of sixty thousand men
was defeated, with astonishingly slight loss to the vic
tors ; Surajah Dowlah, abandoned at the judicious mo
ment by one traitor, Meer Jaffier, was flying for his life
in obedience to the insidious counsels of another traitor.
Rajah Dulab Ram. From that hour Bengal became part
of the English empire.

1757. THE CONQUEROR RETURNS. 273
The fate of the different actors on the Indian side Avas
soon decided. Meer Jaffier Avas duly invested with the
Nabob's authority over Bengal, Behar, and Orissa ; Omi
chund, on learning the shameful trick of the Red Treaty,
went mad and died mad ; Surajah Dowlah was soon capt
ured and promptly killed by Meer Jaffier : the Blackhole
was avenged.
Clive had now reached the pinnacle of his greatness.
Victor of Plassey, Governor of Bengal, he remained in
India for three more resplendent years ; he added to the
number of his conquests by defeating the great enterprise
of Shah Alum against Meer Jaffier, and shattered the
Dutch descent upon the Hoogly — a descent secretly fa-
A'ored by the ever-treacherous Meer Jaffier — ^both on land
and sea. Then, with laurel victory upon his sword, and
smooth success strewn before his feet, Clive resolved to
return again to England. He sailed from India, full of
honors, in 1760, the year in which George the Second
died. When he arrived in England George the Third
was king. Here for the moment we must leave him, the
greatest living soldier of his country, with a career of
practically unbroken glory behind him. He had reached
his apogee. We shall meet with him again under less
happy conditions, when the sun of Plassey had begun to
set. 12*

274 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xxxix.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHANGES.
Meanwhile some changes were taking place in politi
cal affairs at home which were full of importance to the
coming time. William Pitt had taken 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, be
cause it was now becoming more and more evident that
the King would have to reckon with him as Prime-min
ister 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 ad
ministrator and a debater, and, it may be added, a politi
cal intriguer, of all but consummate ability. Murray was
beginning to be recognized as a great advocate, and even
a great man. Lyttelton was still making brilliant way in
politics, but was even yet hovering somewhat uncertain
between politics and literature, destined in the end to be
come another illustration of the career marred for both
fields by the effort to work in both fields. On the other
hand, Chesterfield had given up office. He had had a dis
pute with his colleagues when he was strongly in favor
of making a peace, and they Avould not have it, and he
left them to go their own way. He refused the title of
duke which the King offered him. He withdrew for the
remainder of his years to private life, saying: " I have been
behind the scenes both of pleasure and business; I have
seen all the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes which exhibit
and move all the gaudy machines; and I have seen and
smelt the tallow candles which illuminate the whole dec-

1751. "GIVE US BACK OUR ELEVEN DAYS," 275
oration to the astonishment and admiration of the igno
rant multitude." He seldom spoke in Parliament after
wards ; he was growing deaf and weary. In 1751 he
broke silence, and with success, wben he delivered his
celebrated speech on the reform of the calendar. He was
" coached," as we should say now, by two able mathema
ticians, the Earl of Macclesfield and Mr. Bradley. The
ignorant portion of the public were 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 peo
ple ascribed his sufferings to a judgment from Heaven for
having taken part in that " impious undertaking."
The "impious undertaking" was a very needed scien
tific reform in the calendar, which had long before been
adopted in some other countries. Julius Csssar Avas the
first great regulator of the calendar ; his work in that
way Avas not the least Avonderful of his achievements.
The calculations of his astronomers, however, were dis
covered in much later times to be " out " by eleven min
utes in each year. When Pope Gregory the Thirteenth
came to the throne of the papacy, in 1572, he found that
the 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 in Italy, Spain, and Portugal.
It gradually commended itself to France and Germany,
and it was adopted by Denmark and Sweden in 1700.
England only came into line with the reform of the cal
endar in 1751. The Act of Parliament which sanctioned
the change brought in the use of the words " new style "
and " old style." Only Russia and Greece now of Euro
pean countries cling to the old style. But the new style,
as we have said, was bitterly resented by the mob in
England, and every one remembers Hogarth's picture of
the patriot drunk in the gutter with his banner near
him bearing the inscription, " Give us back our eleven
days." Chesterfield laughed at the success of his speech on the

276 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xxxix.
reform of the calendar, and made little of it. Perhaps
he helped thus to explain the comparative failure of his
whole career. Life was to him too much of a gibe and a
sarcasm, and life will not be taken on those terms.
Lord Chesterfield was then out of the running, and
Lord Granville's active career had closed. The men of
the older school had had their day; the new men had
pushed them from their stools. The age of Walpole is
closed. The age of Chatham is about to open.
Early in the year 1751 death removed one of the ele
ments of discord from the family circle of George the
Second. The end had come for Frederick, Prince of
Wales. The long, unnatural struggle was brought very
suddenly to a close. On the 12th of March, 1751, the
prince, who had been suffering from pleurisy, went to the
House of Lords, and caught a chill which brought on a
relapse. "Je sens la mort," he cried out on the 20th of
March, and the princess, hearing the cry, ran towards him,
and found that he was indeed dead. The general feeling
of the country was perhaps not unfairly represented in
the famous epigram which became the talk of the town:
"Here lies Fred,
Who was aliTe 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 haTe missed her ;
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation.
But since it is only Fred,
Who was aliTe and is dead,
There's no more to be said."
It is curious to contrast this grim suggestion for an epi
taph on the dead prince with the stately volume which
the University of Oxford issued from the Clarendon
Press: "Epicedia Oxoniensia in obitum celsissimi et de-
sideratissimi Frederici Principis Walliae." Here an ob-

1751. FRED'S EPITAPHS. 277
sequious vice-chancellor displayed all the splendors of a
tinsel Latinity in the affectation of offering a despairing
king and father such consolations for his loss as the Ox
onian Muses might offer. Here Lord Viscount Stormont,
in desperate imitation of Milton, did his best to teach
" The mimic Nymph that haunts the winding Verge
And oozy current of Parisian Seine"
to weep for Frederick. *
"For well was Pred'rick loTed and well deserT'd,
His Toioe was oTer sweet, and on his lips
Attended eTOr the alluring grace
Of gentle lowliness and social zeal."
The hind who labored was to weep for him, and the
artificer to ply his varied 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 scholastic gentlemen mourned in Greek ;
James Stillingfleet found vent in Hebrew ; Mr. Betts con
cealed his tears under the cloak of the Syriac speech ;
George Costard sorrowed in Arabic that might have
amazed Abu I'Atahiyeh; Mr. Swinton's learned sock stirred
him to Phoenician and Etruscan ; and Mr. Evans, full of
national fire and the traditions of the bards, delivered
himself, and at great length too, in Welsh, The wail of
this " Welsh fairy " is the fine flower of this funeral wreath
of pedantic 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 with literary men, and sometimes with
rallying a bevy of the maids of honor to the bombardment
of a pasteboard citadel and a cannonade of sugar-plums.

278 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xxxix.
He had written verses ; among the rest, a love tribute to
his wife, full of rapture and enriched with the most out
spoken description of her various charms of person, which,
however, he assures us, were nothing to her charms of
mind. Probably he was very fond of his wife ; we have
already said that it is likely he carried on his amours with
other women chiefly because he thought it one of the
duties of his princely station. Perhaps we may assume
that he must have had some good qualities of his own ;
he certainly got little teaching or example of goodness
from most of those who surrounded him in the days when
he could yet have been taught.
The new heir to the throne was George, Frederick's
eldest son, who was born in London on June 4, 1738, and
was now, therefore, in his thirteenth year. Frederick's
wife had already given birth to eight children, and was
expected very soon to bring forth another. George was
a seven-months' child. His health was so miserably deli
cate that it was believed he could not live. It was doubted
at first whether it would be physically possible to rear
him ; and it would not have been possible if the ordinary
Court customs were to be followed. But the infant George
was wisely handed over to the charge of a robust and
healthy young peasant woman, a gardener's wife, who took
fondest care of him and adored him, and by whose early
nursing he lived to be George the Third.
The year 1751, Avhich may be said to have opened Avith
the death of poor Frederick, closed with the death of a
man greater by far than any prince of the House of Han
over. On December 12th Bolingbroke passed away. He
had settled himself quietly down in his old home at Bat-
tersea, and there he died. He had outlived his closest
friends and his keenest enemies. The wife — the second
wife — to whom, with all his faults, he had been much de
voted — was long dead. Pope and Gay, and Arbuthnot,
and " Matt " Prior and Swift were dead. Walpole, his
great opponent, was dead. All chance of a return to
public life had faded years before. New conditions and

1758. THE LAST OF BOLINGBROKE. 279
new men had arisen. He was old — was in his seventy-
fourth year ; there was not much left to him to live for.
There had been a good deal of the spirit of the classic
philosopher about him — the school of Epiotetus, not the
school of Aristotle or Plato. He was a Georgian Epiote
tus with a dash of Gallicized grace about him. He made
the most out of everything as it came, and probably got
some comfort out of disappointment as well as out of suc
cess. Life had been for him one long dramatic perform
ance, and he played it out consistently to the end. He
had long believed himself a formidable enemy to Chris
tianity — at least to revealed religion. He made arrange
ments by his will for the publication, among other writings,
of certain essays Avhich were designed to give Christianity
its death-blow, and, having satisfactorily settled that busi
ness and disposed in advance of the faith of coming ages,
he turned his face to the wall and died.
The reign of George the Second was not a great era of
reform ; but there Avas accomplished about this time a
measure of reform Avhich we cannot omit to mention.
This was the Marriage Act, brought in and passed by
Lord Hardwicke, the Lord Chancellor, in 1753. The Mar
riage Act provided that no marriage should be legal in
England unless the banns had been put up in the parish
church for three successive Sundays previously, or a spe
cial license had been obtained from the archbishop, and
unless the marriage were celebrated in the parish church.
The Bill provided that any clergyman celebrating a mar
riage without these formalities should be liable to penal
servitude for seven years. This piece of legislation put a
stop to some of the most shocking and disgraceful abuses
in certain classes of English social life. With other
abuses went the infamous Fleet marriages — marriages
performed by broken-down and disreputable clergymen
whose headquarters were very commonly the Fleet prison
— "couple-beggars" who would perform the marriage cere
mony between any man and woman without asking ques
tions, sometimes not even asking their names, provided

280 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. eaxxxix.
they got a fee for the performance. Men of this class, a
scandal to their order, and still more to the system of law
which allowed them to flourish, were to be found at al
most every pothouse in the populous neighborhoods,
ready to ply their trade at any moment. Perhaps a
drunken young lad was brought up to be married in a
half unconscious state to some elderly prostitute, perhaps
some rich young woman was carried off against her will
to be married forcibly to some man who wanted her
money. The Fleet parson asked no questions, did his
work, and pocketed his fee — and the marriage was legal.
Lord Hardwicke's Act stopped the business and relegated
the Fleet parson to the pages of romance.
Years went on — years of quiet at home, save for little
ministerial wrangles — years of almost uninterrupted war
abroad. The peace that was patched up at Aix-la-Chapelle
was evidently a peace that could not last — that was not
meant to last. If no other European power would have
broken it, England herself probably would, for the ar
rangements were believed at home to be very much to
her disadvantage, and were highly unpopular. But there
was no need for England to begin. The Family Compact
was in full force. The Bourbons of France were deter
mined to gain more than they had got; the Bourbons of
Spain were eager to recover what they had lost. The
genius and daring of Frederick of Prussia were not likely
to remain inactive. As we have seen, the war between
England and France raged on in India without regard to
treaties and truces on the European continent. There was,
in fact, 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 as Europe and India. They
had the continent of North America. There were always
some disputes about boundaries going on there; and a dis
pute concerning a boundary between two States which
are mistrustful of one another is like a flickering flame
close to a train of gunpowder. The renewal of war on
the Continent gave for the first time its full chance to the

1756. ENGLAND'S CONTROL IN NORTH AMERICA. 281
genius of William Pitt as a great war minister. The
breaking out of war in North America established Eng
land as the controlling power there, and settled forever
the pretensions of France and of Spain. It is not neces
sary for us in this history to follow the course of the con
tinental wars. The great results of these to England were
worked out on other soil.

282 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES.

CHAPTER XL.
CANADA.
We have seen that, when the young Duke of Cumber
land, after the battle of Culloden, was earning his right
to the title of "Butcher," one English officer at least had
the courage to protest by his actions against the atrocities
of the English general. That soldier was James Wolfe,
then a young lieutenant-colonel, Avho had served his ap
prenticeship to arms in the Low Countries in the war of
the Austrian Succession, and earned by his courage and
his abilities an honorable name. He Avas destined to make
that name famous by the part he was to play in the events
that were taking place in Canada. The red-haired, un
attractive soldier, whose cold and almost repellent man
ner concealed some of the highest qualities, was fated to
do as much for the glory of the English Empire in one
part of the Avorld as Clive in another. But there could
hardly be two men more different than Clive and Wolfe.
The one was ahvays an adventurer — a gentleman advent
urer, indeed, and a brilliant specimen of the class, but an
adventurer still, and with some of the worst vices of his
kind. Wolfe, on the contrary, resembled more the better
men among those Puritan soldiers Avho rallied around the
name of Cromwell and battled beneath the standards of
Monk. He cherished an austere ideal of public and pri
vate virtue. The sweet, simple gravity of the man's nat
ure lives for us very vividly in the portrait Thackeray
draws of him in the pages of " The Virginians," where so
many of the famous figures of the crowded last century
world seem to take bodily shape again and live and move
around us.

1756. THE STRUGGLE FOR CANADA. 283
From the end of the fifteenth century, when John and
Sebastian Cabot discovered Canada, France considered
that portion of the New World as her own. Early in the
sixteenth century a French expedition under Verazzani
formed a settlement named New France, and eleven years
later the Breton Jacques Cartier ascended the St. Lawrence
as far as the site of Montreal. The first permanent settle
ment was made in 1608, when Quebec was founded. From
that time Quebec seems like the prize for which English
and French arms are to strive. Canada was taken by the
English in 1629, only to be restored in 1632; but when
more than a century later France and England were new
ly at war, the serious and final 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 Great Lakes, with a vast extent
of territory west and north to the Pacific and Arctic
oceans. It was, as has been happily said, a convenient
maxim in those days of our colonization, that whoever
possessed the coast had a right to all the inland territory
as far as from sea to sea. While this gave England its
boundaries from north to south, it left from east to west
open to French fancy and French ambition. Louisiana was
a term which covered in English eyes only the Mississippi
mouths and a few stations along the Mississippi and Ohio
valleys; in French minds the term extended to all the terri
tory bounded to the north by Canada and to the south by
Mexico, and stretching from the Alleghanies to the Pacific.
The French settlements in Canada were administered
very much upon the same happy-go-lucky system as that
which prevailed in France at home under the beneficent
influence of the Old Order, and which at home was slowly
and surely preparing the way for the French Revolution.
The ministers in Paris governed the colonies through
governors who were supreme in their own districts, but
who possessed no power whatever of initiating any laws
for the people they swayed.

284 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. xl.
The English colonies were very different from those of
the French. Founded in the early days of religious per
secution by men too strong-minded to accept tyranny or
to make composition with their consciences, the" new col
onies of Englishmen in America had thriven in accordance
with the antique spirit of independence which had called
them into existence. The colonists were a hardy, a stub
born, and a high-minded people, well fitted to battle with
the elements and the Indians, and to preserve, under new
conditions, the austere standard of morality which led
them to look for liberty across the sea. The creed which
they professed endowed them with a capacity for self-gov
ernment, and taught them the arts of administration and
the polity of free States, The English colonies, as they
throve and extended, were not without their faults. The
faith which their founders professed was a gloomy faith,
and left its mark in gloom upon the characters of the peo
ple and the tenor of their laws. The Ironside quality of
their creed showed itself in the cruelties with which they
visited the Indians; the severity of their tenets was felt
by all who could not readily adapt themselves to the ada
mantine ethics of men of the type of Endicott and Mather.
There was not wanting, too, a spirit of lawlessness in the
English America, curiously in contrast with the law-abiding
character of the Non-conformist colonizations. Along the
seaboard wild pirates nestled, skimmers of the seas of the
most daring type, worthy brethren of the Kidds, the Black-
beards, and the Teaches, terrors of the merchantman and
the well-disposed emigrant. But in spite of the stern
ness of the law-abiding, and the savageness of the lawless
portions of the English settlements, they contrasted fa
vorably in every way with the settlements which were
nominally French and the centres of colonization which
hoisted the French flag.
After a long stretch of threatened hostilities, the pinch
came at last in 1753, when the two nations met on the
banks of the Ohio. The meeting meant one of the great
est and most momentous series of wars in the century.

1754. YOUNG MR. WASHINGTON. 285
French soldiers invaded all the settlements of the Ohio
company and drove the settlers out. The Governor of
Virginia sent an ambassador to the French officer com
manding on the Ohio, and chose as his ambassador a
young Virginian gentleman then absolutely unknown ex
cept to the small circle of his personal friends, but des
tined to become one of the most famous, and most de
servedly famous, men in history. Young Mr. George
Washington bore Governor Dinwiddle's message over 500
miles through the wilderness at the peril of his life. That
expedition, says Irving, " may be considered the founda
tion of his fortunes. From that moment he was the ris
ing hope of Virginia." The French commander informed
the young envoy that he proposed to hold Ohio and drive
the English out. Back went George Washington through
the wilderness again with this discouraging reply. After
that hostilities were inevitable. The next year Washing
ton, then lieutenant-colonel, led a small force to the fron
tier, and flred the first shot against the enemy. It is cu
rious to think of all the results that folloAved from that
first shot. The fall of the French colonies in America,
the establishment of the American Republic, the French
Revolution — all may, by the simplest process of causa
tion, be traced back to the first shot fired by Washing
ton's command against a petty officer on the frontier.
That shot echoes on the Plains of Abraham, at Lexington
and Bunker's Hill, at the taking of the Bastille, and with
the " whiff of grape-shot " ; Ave may hear it at Waterloo
and in the autumn horrors of the Coup d'Etat.
France had long been ambitious of extending the do
main of her colonial empire in America. Her aim Avas
to secure for herself the Mississippi and Ohio valleys.
Securing these meant many things to France. It meant
the connection of her Mexican colonies with Canada, but
it meant much more than this ; it meant serious annoy
ance to England, serious limitation to English commerce.
It would make the Alleghany mountains the western lim
its of the English colonies, hamper the English trade with

286 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. en. XL.
the Indians, and expose to French attack the English on
the north, south, and west. In this year 1754, therefore,
she deliberately drove the English out of West Pennsyl
vania, and set up her staff there by building Fort Duquesne
to command the Ohio Valley. At that time the chief
British commander in America was General Braddock,
a joyous, rollicking soldier of the old-fashioned type,
rather popular in London as a good companion and good
fellow, who loved his glass with a more than merely con
vivial enthusiasm. But he was not the sort of man who
was fitted to fight the French just then and there. In
the open field and under ordinary conditions he might
have done well enough, but the war with France in the
American colonies was not pursued under ordinary condi
tions. It was fought on the lines of Indian warfare, with
murderous Indian allies, against whom the jolly general of
the London tables and the St. James's clubs was wholly un
fitted to cope. Though he had been warned by Sir P. K.
Halkett, who knew the danger, Braddock actually insist
ed upon advancing Avith astonishing recklessness against
Fort Duquesne as if he were marching at the head of an
invincible force to the easiest possible success. The result
of his heedlessness is one of the grimmest spots in Eng
lish colonial history.
Braddock's forces were cut to pieces: very few of his
stout thousand escaped to spread horror through the Eng
lish colonies by the noAvs of their misfortunes. The ban
ner of the Leopard had gone down indeed before the white
coats and the Silver Lilies of France and the painted fan
tasies of Indian braves and sachems. The fair hair of
English soldiers graced the wigwams of the wild and re
morseless Red Man, and it seemed for the moment as if
the fighting power of England had gone. But, indeed,
English fighting power was made of sterner stuff. The
fact is, perhaps, never more happily exemplified than in
this very story of the dying Braddock himself. As he
was carried away, bleeding, to his death, from that fatal
ambuscade, something of the hero animated and exalted

1759. JAMES WOLFE. 287
the spirit of that drink-hardy and foolhardy soldier. " I
must do better another time," he is reported to have said;
and it would not be easy to say with what gallanter words
a stout soldier could go to his account. Against such a
spirit as that which animated the dying Braddock the sol
diers of France were not destined to triumph. " The last
of the Gracchi," said Mirabeau, " when dying, flung dust
to heaven, and from that dust sprang Marius." Brad
dock, promising himself to do better next time, spoke not
indeed for himself, but for his nation. The next time
came in its due season, but the man who "did better,"
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, and at last they brought the hour and the
men. An elaborate campaign in 1759 had been prepared,
by which Amherst, coming by Lake George, Ticonderoga,
and Lake Champlain; Prideaux and Johnson coming by
Fort Niagara, Lake Ontario, and Montreal; and Wolfe
coming by the St. Lawrence River, were to unite in attack
ing Quebec. But the first two divisions of the whole
force were unable to make the connection in the due time,
and to Wolfe's command alone was given the honor of
assailing Quebec. He advanced up the St. Lawrence Avith
some 7000 men and the fleet under Admiral Saunders, and
encamped on the Island of St. Orleans in the St. Lawrence
River, some eight miles from Quebec. The whole world,
perhaps, hardly holds a scene more picturesque, whether
looked at from above or from below, from the rock or
from the river, than that which is given by the city of
Quebec, At some places the bold mass of rock and clay
descends almost sheer to the lower level and the river-
shore. Ope can see that splendid heap of rock and clay
from the distant Falls of Montmorency, standing out as
the Acropolis of Athens or as Acrocorinth may be seen
from some far-off point of view. The newer part of the
city and the fortifications are perched high upon the great
mound or mass of clay and rock, Avhich looks over the con-

288 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.zl.
fluence of a mighty river and a great stream. The lower
and older town creeps and straggles along the base of the
rock and by the edges of the river. Here are the old
market-places, the quaint old streets, the ancient wharfs,
the crumbling houses, the narrow lanes, the curious in
lets, of past generations, and the crude shanties of yester
day and the day before yesterday. From this lower level
broad roads now wind up to what would be called the
better part of the city — the region of the hotels, and the
clubs, and the official buildings, and the fashionable resi
dences. But until lately these roads passed under the
ancient gate-ways of the city — gate-ways that reminded
one of the Gate of Calais, and brought back suggestions
of Hogarth's famous picture. In more recent years, how
ever, the restless spirit of modern improvement has invaded
OA'en Quebec, and all, or nearly all, the ancient gate-ways,
the gate-ways of the days of Wolfe, have bowed to the
fate of Temple Bar. Yet even to-day the traveller in
Canada who stands upon that height may vividly recall
the scene that lay before the 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 cast about him if it were pos
sible to attack the town from the Heights of Abraham
on the southern side. It seemed on the face of it an im
possibility. How was it possible for the attacking force
to make its way unseen by the French up the precipitous
cliffs to the Heights of Abraham ? Luckily, there was a
young man in Wolfe's army, a Lieutenant McCulloch, who
had been held prisoner in Quebec in 1756. With a view
to future possibilities, he employed his time in surveying
the cliffs, and he thought that he had discovered a par
ticular spot where the steep hills might be^ successfully
scaled by an attacking force. He now communicated
this to Wolfe. Indeed, the idea of attack in this way
seems to have been suggested by him, and on the memo
rable September night the attempt was made.

1759. WOLFE'S TRIBUTE TO LITERATURE. 289
Who has not heard— who has not been touched and
thrUled by the story of Wolfe, while being rowed across
the spreading waters of the St. Lawrence to the cove
where the attempt was to be made, repeating in low tones
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 have written the Elegy than
take Quebec ? It is a fine saying, akin to that of Caasar
when he swore that he would rather be the first man in
an obscure Italian village than the second man in Rome.
We may perhaps take the liberty of questioning the abso
lute accuracy of either saying. In Caesar's case he was,
no doubt, sufficiently conscious that he was going to be
the first man in Rome,. In Wolfe's case we may well be
lieve that his exquisite tribute to literature, and to the
most charming Avork of one of the most charming men of
letters then alive, was not meant very seriously. He was
a soldier ; Quebec was his duty ; Quebec was to be his
fame. But it is one of those sayings that live forever,
and the mere thought of it at once calls up two widely
different pictures, pictures of places in two widely differ
ent parts of the world. One shows the shining, swelling
St. Lawrence River and the dead hour of night, and those
slowly moving boats of hushed heroes creeping across the
waters to where the mighty Quebec hills gloomed hugely
out. The other is of that quiet church-yard in England,
at Stoke Pogis, near Slough, where pilgrims from many
parts of the world still wander through the pleasant
Buckinghamshire fields to stand where Gray conceived
his Elegy.
Wolfe carried out his plan to perfection. Day was
dawning as the majority of his forces formed upon the
Heights of Abraham. It was six in the morning before
Montcalm's irregulars were upon the field, and nine
o'clock before the French army was in position tor ac
tion. At ten o'clock the battle began. It ^id not las
very long. Whether the French were utterly disheart
Ted or not by the appearance so unexpectedly of the
vol.. II. — 13

290 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xl.
English on the ground which they had deemed unassaila
ble, certain is it that they made a poor fight of it. Though
the French forces amounted to nearly double the English
strength, the whole battle, from the first French advance
to their utter rout and flight, did not last a quarter of an
hour. It was one of the sharpest and the strangest bat
tles 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 dying ears. He seemed to recover a kind
of alertness at the sound, and shaking himself from his
deadly stupor, asked, " Who run ?" We can imagine the
momentary trepidation in that gallant heart : could it be
his outnumbered followers? In a moment he was reas
sured; it was the enemy 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 so passed away.
The time may, perhaps, come when the great game of
war will no longer stir the pulses, and men will no longer
feel that they die in peace after the bloody defeat of their
enemies. But so long as the pulses of men's hearts do
answer to any martial music, so long men will say of
Wolfe that he died well as became a soldier, a hero, and
a gentleman. He sleeps in Greenwich Church,
The pride of England's colonial empire might find new
stimulus in the way in which the memory of one of the
most brilliant scenes in the story of England's career is
kept green in Quebec, The traveller, standing on Duf-
ferin Terrace to-day, may in his mind's eye see Wolfe
crossing the stream on his perilous expedition, may in his
mind's ear hear him reciting to his officers those lines"
from Gray's Elegy, and telling them that he would rather
have Avritten such verses than be sure of taking Quebec,
His monument is near to the promenade on Dufferin Ter
race — his monument which, a rare event in war, is the
monument also of his rival, the French commander, Mont
calm, killed in the hour of defeat, as Wolfe was at the
moment of victory. Quebec itself seems to illustrate in

1759. AN OLD FRENCH PROVINCE. 291
its own progress and its own history the moral of that
common monument. Quebec is as loyal to the British
Crown as Victoria or as the Channel Islands. But it is
still in great part an old-fashioned French city. The
France that survives there and all through the province
is not the France of to-day, but the France of before the
great Revolution. The stranger seeking his way through
the streets had better, in most cases, question the first
crossing-sweeper he meets in French, and not in English.
The English residents are all expected to speak French.
But the English residents and the French live on terms
of the most cordial fraternity. Little quarrels, local quar-
Tels of race and sect, do unquestionably spring up here
and there now and again, but they are only like the dis
putes of Churchmen and Dissenters in an English city,
and they threaten no organic controversy. England has
great reason to be proud of Quebec. The English flag
has a home on those heights which we have already said
may challenge the world for bold picturesqueness and
beauty.

292 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xli.

CHAPTER XLL
THE CLOSE OP THE EEIGN.
In the early days of the year 1753 literature and phi
losophy lost a great man by the death of Bishop Berkeley.
George Berkeley was born on March 12, 1684, by the
Nore, in the county Kilkenny. His father was an Irish
man of English descent, William Berkeley. In the first
year of the eighteenth century George Berkeley went, a
lad of fifteen, to the University of Dublin, to Trinity Col
lege. In Trinity College he remained for thirteen years,
studying, thinking, dreaming, bewildering most of the col
legians, his colleagues, who seemed to have been unable
to make up their minds whether he was a genius or a
blockhead. Within the walls of Trinity he Avorked, grad
ually and laboriously piecing together and thoughtfully
shaping out his theory of the metaphysical conception of
the material world about him ; poring over Locke and
Plato, breathing an atmosphere saturated with Cartesian-
ism, his active mind eagerly investigating, exploring, in
quiring in all directions, and his hand recording day by
day the notes and stages of his mental development.
His early philosophical Avritings rapidly earned him a
reputation in the great world of London, to which at that
time the eyes of all men — divines, wits, statesmen, phi
losophers, and poets — turned. It is not necessary here to
dwell upon the nature of those philosophical writings, or
to enter into any study of the great theory of idealism in
which he affirmed that there is no proof of the existence
of matter anywhere save in our own perceptions. Byron,
in his light-hearted way, more than two generations later,
dismissed Bishop Berkeley and his theory in the famous
couplet —

1684-1763. BERKELEY. 293
"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 which nobody would be likely to regard, as a serious
summing up of the mental work of Berkeley,
Berkeley came to London in the first winter month of
1713, and made the acquaintance of his great country
man Swift. The Dean was a great patron of Berkeley's
in those early London days. Swift took Berkeley to
Court, and introduced him or spoke of him to all the
great ministers, and pushed his fortunes by all the ways
— and they were many — in his power. Berkeley, with
the aid of Swift, was soon made free of that wonderful
republic of letters which then held sway in London, and
which numbered among its members such men as Steele
and Addison, Bolingbroke and Harley, Gay and Arbuth
not, and Pope. Berkeley was in Addison's box at the
first performance of " Cato," and tasted of the author's
champagne and burgundy there, and listened with curious
delight to the mingled applause and hisses that greet
ed Mr. Pope's prologue. A little later Berkeley Avent to
Italy as the travelling tutor, the bear-leader, of the son of
Ashe, Bishop of Clogher. In Italy he passed some four
enchanted years.
Berkeley came back to England in 1720 to find all Eng
land Avrithing in the welter and chaos of the South Sea
crash. The shame and misery of the time appear to
have inspired him with a kind of horror of the hollow
civilization of the age, and to have given him his first
promptings towards that ideal community in the remote
Atlantic to which his mind turned so strongly a little
later. He left England speedily, and came home again
to Ireland after an absence of eight years. It was in Ire-
land that a strange windfall came to him and amazed
him. On that fatal afternoon when Swift, Avith a legion
of wild passions tearing at his heartstrings, rode over to
Marley Abbey to fling back at Vanessa's feet the letter
she had written to Stella, Hester Vanhomrigh received

294 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xli.
her death-blow. But she lived long enough to inflict a
curious little piece of vengeance, the only vengeance in
her power, except the nobler revenge of forgiveness, upon
the false Cadenus. She had left by will all the property
she possessed to the man she had so madly worshipped.
With the hand of Death upon her, with the raging eyes
of the Dean still burning upon her brain, she performed
the one little pitiful act of retaliation which is the saddest
spot in all her sad history ; she altered her will, and disin
herited her idol. For the name of Jonathan Swift, Dean
of St. Patrick's, she substituted the name of another great
Irishman, another great Churchman, another great think
er and teacher, the name of George Berkeley, Dean — only
nominally so, indeed — of Dromore. Berkeley's first idea
on receiving this unexpected windfall was to employ the
money thus almost miraculously placed at his disposal in
carrying out a scheme which had long been dear to his
heart. This scheme was that he should emigrate to Ber
muda, should settle there, and devote the rest of his life
to " the reformation of manners among the English in our
Western plantations, and the propagation of the Gospel
among the American savages." He was nobly convinced
of the nobility of his dream, and, which was more remark
able, he succeeded in awaking a latent nobility in unex
pected places, and in arousing an enthusiasm for this
dream of a Bermudan Utopia even in callous hearts and
unsympathetic bosoms.
Bermuda became for a while the fashion in the marvel
lous medley of London society over which the first of the
Georges reigned. People talked BeriAuda, thought Ber
muda, wrote Bermuda. He was indeed a remarkable man
Avhose missionary zeal and eloquence could make Ber
muda popular in London with the voice of religion. He
was indeed a remarkable man who could impress for a
moment the cynical nature of Bolingbroke with some
thing of the fire of his own enthusiasm; who could in
duce Walpole to swell from his own pocket the subscrip
tion-list that was raised to further Berkeley's schemes ;

1728. BERKELEY'S ASPIRATIONS. 295
who actually succeeded in touching the callous organism
which the Elector of Hanover and King of England
called a heart ; and whose one joy on hearing of the
Vanessa legacy was at the aid it afforded to his voyage
and his pure, unselfish aspirations. Bermuda ever re
mained a vision for him; but in 1728 he set sail for
Rhode Island in the company of his young wife. Miss
Anne Forster, whom, as he quaintly tells us, he chose " for
her qualities of mind and her unaffected inclination to
books." For more than three years he dwelt in Amer
ica a simple, happy, earnest life. But the mission was a
failure. To Robert Walpole, Berkeley's plans and hopes
would naturally seem about as deserving of the attention
and aid of practical men as the ambitions of Don Quixote.
The grant promised by the Government was never sent
out, and in 1731 Berkeley came back to England. How
many of those who are familiar with the line, " Westward
the course of empire takes its way," which has been ac
cepted as the motto for one of the best and best-known
frescos that adorn the Capitol in Washington, know that
it comes from the last verse of a poem which Berkeley
wrote as he was striving to realize a New Atlantis in
Rhode Island ?
" Westward the course of empire takes its way ;
The first four acts already past,
A fifth shall close the draita with the day;
Time's noblest offspring is the last."
Two years of literaiy and philosophic life in London suc
ceeded to the Rhode Island idyl. In 1734 he returned to
Ireland for the last time, and dwelt for eighteen years
in his bishopric of Cloyne in studious seclusion with his
family, wandering among the myrtle - hedges his own
hand planted, reading Plato and Hooker, teaching his
cherished daughter, suffering from domestic losses, and
proclaiming to an astounded world that tar-water was a
panacea for all human ills. Berkeley's genius and his
eloquent prose made tar -water as popular as both had

296 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xli.
made Bermuda some twenty years earlier. The later
years of his life at Cloyne are tinged with melancholy.
His mind began to be agitated anew Avith the dream of
an academic retreat by other streams than the Blackwater
and the Lee, and in 1752 he journeyed again to England
and set up his tent for the last time beneath the shadow
of the Oxford spires. It was mellow autumn when he
came to the City of Scholars. In- the chill January
weather of the following year he died suddenly and peace
fully in the midst of his family. He was a great and a
good man. The serene purity of his life, his lofty purposes,
his nobility of nature, cause him to stand out very con
spicuously in the strange, cynical, cruel world of English
life and English thought during the first half of the eigh
teenth century. He was in that world, but he was never
of it. His friends were either noble of life and mind, or
else he saw in them only their nobler qualities, and took
no thought of or no harm from the rest. He seems to
have been most happy — and the fact is characteristic of
the man — in the society of the sweet, simple, and studious
woman who made him a loving wife, and of the children
whom he loved with an affection for the excess of which
he sometimes reproached himself. All his contempora
ries, says Sir James Mackintosh, agreed with Pope in as
cribing "To Berkeley eTery Tirtue under heaTen."
In 1754 Henry Pelham died. The important conse
quence of his death was the fact that it gave Pitt at last
an opportunity of coming to the front. The Duke of
Newcastle, Henry Pelham's brother, became leader of
the administration, with Henry Fox for Secretary at War,
Pitt for Paymaster - general of the Forces, and Murray,
afterwards to be famous as Lord Mansfield, for Attorney-
general. There was some difficulty about the leadership
of the House of Commons. Pitt was still too much dis
liked by the King to be available for the position. Fox
for a while refused to accept it, and Murray was unwilling

1757. ADMIRAL BYNG. 297
to do anything which might be likely to withdraw him
from the professional path along which he was to move
to such distinction. An attempt was made to get on with
a Sir Thomas Robinson, a man of no capacity for such a
position, and the attempt was soon an evident failure.
Then Fox consented to take the position on Newcastle's
own terms, which were those of absolute submission to
the dictates of Newcastle. Later still he was content to
descend to a subordinate office which did not even give
him a place in tho Cabinet. Fox never recovered the
damage which his reputation and his influence suffered
by this amazing act ; the only explanation for which was
found in the fact that he loved money better than any
thing in the world, and that the office of Paymaster-gen
eral gave almost limitless opportunities to a rapacious and
unscrupulous man.
The Duke of Newcastle's Ministry soon fell. New
castle was not a man who had the slightest capacity for
controlling or directing a policy of war; and the great
struggle known as the Seven Years' War had now broken
out. One lamentable event in the Avar has to be record
ed, although it was but of minor importance. This was
the capture of Minorca by the French under the roman
tic, gallant, and profligate Due de Richelieu, The event
is memorable chiefly, or only, because it was followed by
the trial and execution of the unfortunate Admiral Byng,
Admiral Byng, the son of a famous sailor, was sent in
command of a small and a very poorly furnished squad
ron to the Mediterranean to relieve Minorca, When he
reached Gibraltar he found that a French fleet much su
perior in numbers to his own was blockading the island
he was sent to relieve. Byng called a council of war, and
the council decided that, as they had no instructions from
home how to act in the event of their finding themselves
face to face with a superior force, they had better not in
terfere with the doings of the enemy. Still Byng made
for Minorca, and tried unsuccessfully to open communi
cations with the garrison. He had a slight engagement
13=^

298 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xli.
Avith the French, and then he brought bis squadron away.
The news created such an outburst of passion in England
that the Duke of Newcastle made up his mind at once to
sacrifice Byng to the popular fury. Byng Avas tried at
Spithead, found guilty of having failed in his duty, and
shot on March 14, 1757. He died like a brave man. It
went heavily against Newcastle in later days that he was
believed to have promised the sacrifice of Byng before
the trial had even begun. No one now believes that
Byng was a coward ; and nothing but a miracle could
have enabled him with such a force to save Minorca. But
he failed sadly in his duty, whether from stupidity or
irresolution, and probably he would not have cared to
outlive his degradation. The punishment was stern and
harsh indeed, but it was a time to excuse sternness on the
part of a government on whom had fallen the conduct of
a great war. Pitt did his best to induce the King to mit
igate the penalty in accordance Avith the unanimous rec
ommendation of the court-martial ; but George was in
flexible, and reminded Pitt that he had himself taught the
Sovereign to seek outside the House of Commons for the
judgment of the English people. It was to the execution
of Byng that Voltaire applied the famous epigram, " In
England it is thought necessary to kill an admiral from
time to time to encourage the others " — '¦'¦pour encourager
les autres." Voltaire tried hard to save Byng, and even
induced the Due de Richelieu to write a letter bearing his
personal testimony to the unfortunate admiral's courage.
The Duke of Newcastle resigned office, and for a short
time the Duke of Devonshire was at the head of a coali
tion Ministry which included Pitt. The King, however,
did not stand this long, and one day suddenly turned
them all out of office. Then a coalition of another kind
was formed, which included Newcastle and Pitt, with
Henry Fox in the subordinate position of paymaster.
Pitt now for the first time had it all his own way. He
ruled everything in the House of Commons. He flung
himself with passionate and patriotic energy into the alii'

1767. STERNE. 299
ance with that great Frederick whose genius and daring
were like his own. Pitt was a heaven-born war-minister.
His courage and his resources changed the whole fortunes
of the war. He seemed a statesman to organize victory.
He stirred up the languishing patriotism of the hour, and
filled it with new and noble inspiration. It was true what
George had said to him — that he had taught, or tried to
teach, the Sovereign to seek outside the House of Com
mons for the voice of the English people. But this was
to the honor of Pitt, and not to his discredit. Pitt saw
that a legislature returned on such a representation could
be no spokesman of the English people. He knew that
intelligence and education were beginning to spread with
increased wealth through large unrepresented classes, and
even communities. While he had the people behind him
he cared little for the Sovereign, and still less for the
House of Commons. His pride was as great as his patri
otism; he might be broken, but he could not bend. At
last he had found his true place — at the head of a great
nation and during a grand national crisis.
The closing years of George's reign were honored by
some literary triumphs in which George himself could
have taken but little interest. In 1755 appeared, iu two
volumes folio, the English Dictionary by Samuel Johnson.
We shall meet with Samuel Johnson a good deal in the
future course of this history, and have now only to men
tion as a fact the publication of the work on which he
himself believed his fame was to rest. Another work of
a very different kind and by a very different sort of man
appeared in 1759 — the first and second volume of "Tris
tram Shandy," by Laurence Sterne.
Seldom, perhaps, has an author experienced a stranger
bringing up than that which fell to the lot of Sterne.
His father, Roger Sterne, was one of those luckless per
sons who seem to be the especial sport of a malicious des
tiny, in whose hands nothing prospers, from whose hands
thievish Fortune filches all opportunities. Roger Sterne
was a gentleman of good family and narrow means, who

300 A HISTORY OP THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xli.
had adopted arms as his profession and had not prospered
therein. He had married a Avife who was herself a sutler's
widoAV, and who blessed Ensign Sterne with a swift and
steady succession of offspring, of whom Laurence was the
second. It was chance, acting through the impulses of
the War Office, which caused little Laurence to see the
light on Irish soil ; but though he was born in the melo
diously named Valley of Honey, there was little of hon
eyed sweetness, and much bitterness as of gall and colo-
quintida, in his early boyhood. Poverty and the eccentric
evolutions of a marching regiment contributed to make
his a most unenviable childhood. The record, as we can
read it in his own account, is disastrous and dreary enough.
The regiment to which Roger Sterne belonged was per
petually on the move ; the births and deaths of Mrs.
Sterne's children succeeded each other with painful ra
pidity; again and again was little Laurence in imminent
peril of shipwreck on the stormiest seas ; he experienced
in his earliest years all that was worst and most disagree
able in the life of camp-followers. Some account must
necessarily be taken of this by those who review Sterne's
Avritings. A child brought up under such conditions is
not likely to have a very keen appreciation of the finer
phases of life, and must inevitably have a precocious and
most unfortunate familiarity with the seamy side of exist
ence. What is commonly called knowledge of the world,
which means knowledge of what is worst in the world, as
" seeing life " generally means seeing its dirtiest places,
undoubtedly Sterne got in plenty, and the future divine
was not improved by the education of the camp.
The misfortunes that had attended so persistently upon
the career of Roger Sterne culminated at last most trag
ically, yet at the same time most ludicrously, as if Destiny
had determined to the end to make the luckless ensign
her sport. At Gibraltar a quarrel with another officer
" about a goose " resulted in a duel, Roger Sterne was
run through the body. He never recovered from the
wound, and though in this harsh world he drew his breath

1713-1768. "TRISTRAM SHANDY." 301
in pain a little longer, he died in Jamaica of fever, Avhich
found his enfeebled frame a ready victim. One of the
few pleasing characteristics in Laurence Sterne's nature is
his affectionate memory of his father ; one of the most
pleasing passages of all his Avritings is that in which he
describes him. " My father was a little, smart man, ac
tive to the last degree in all exercises, most patient of fa
tigue and disappointment, of which it had pleased God to
give him full measure. He was, in his temper, somewhat
rapid and hasty " — hence, no doubt, the speaking of hot
words and the spilling of hot blood over that ill-omened
goose — " but of a kindly, sweet disposition, void of all de
sign, and so innocent in his intentions that he suspected
no one, so that you might have cheated him ten times a
day if nine had not been sufficient for your purpose."
Through Halifax School and Cambridge sizarship Lau
rence Sterne passed, by the patronage of his pluralist un
cle, Jacques Sterne, into holy orders and the living of Sut
ton - on - the - Forest, and so into twenty years of almost
complete obscurity. We know that he married, that he
preached, played the fiddle, fished, hunted, and read, and
that is about all we knoAV. Then quite suddenly, in 1759,
the lazy, lounging, most eccentric, and ill-chosen clergy
man enraptured London by the publication of the first two
volumes of " Tristram Shandy."
The author of "Tristram Shandy" came to town, and
was received with more than Roman triumph. Wealth,
wit, genius, nobility, thronged his door, sought his friend
ship, proffered favors. Sterne revelled in this new life.
London offered him a cup of the most intoxicating qual
ity, and he drank and drank again of its sparkling fount
ain without ever quenching his thirst for popularity, for
fl.attery, for success. Flattery, popularity, success — all
three he had in plenty for eight resplendent years. Vol
ume after volume of " Tristram Shandy " wooed and won
public applause. Sterne travelled abroad and found the
same adulation in other capitals of Europe that he had
enjoyed in London. When the popularity of " Shandy "

302 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch.xli.
appeared to be on the wane, and the fame of its author
to be dwindling, he whipped it up again with the " Senti
mental Journey." We may finish his story by anticipa
tion. He died 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 he had expressed of
expiring at an inn untroubled by the presence of mourn
ing friends was grimly gratified. In lonely lodgings, be
neath the speculative gaze of a memoir-writing footman
and the care of hired hands, Sterne gasped out the words,
"Now it is come !" and so died. He was buried almost
unattended, and his body was stolen from its noAv-made
grave by resurrectionists, and recognized, when half-dis
sected, on an anatomist's table by a horrified friend. So
the story goes — not, indeed, absolutely authentic, but cer
tainly not absolutely without credit — the melancholy con
clusion of an ill-spent life and a splendid, ill-used intellect.
For .his conduct to his wife his memory has been
scourged by Thackeray and by his latest biographer, Mr.
H. D. Traill, It cannot be too severely scourged. He
took her youth, he took her money, and he tired of her,
and was untrue to her, and spOke against her in the das
tardly letters he wrote to his friends and in which he has
gibbeted himself to all time as a hideous warning, a sort
of sentimental scarecrow. " As to the 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, pla-
tonic. . . . But as I am not one of those who hold that the
conventionally ' innocent ' is the equivalent of the morally
harmless in this matter, I cannot regard the question as
worth any very minute investigation. I am not sure that
the habitual male flirt, who neglects his wife to sit contin
ually languishing at the feet of some other woman, gives
much less pain and scandal to others or does much less
mischief to himself and the objects of his adoration than
the thorough-going profligate."
One of the greatest of German writers, Jean Paul Rich-

1760. A LEVfiE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 303
ter, declares more than once that he regards Sterne as his
master. The statement is amazing. Jean Paul Richter,
Jean Paul the Only One, as he was fondly called, was im
measurably sincerer than his master. All that was sham,
tinsel, and tawdry in the writings of Yorick was genuine,
heart-felt, and soul-inspiring in Jean Paul. Yorick's sen
timent was pinchbeck ; Jean Paul's was pure gold. All
that Richter ever wrote is animated with the deepest re
ligious feeling, the tenderest sympathy, the gentlest and
bravest pity, Yorick, in the black and white of his sacred
calling's gown and bands, grins and leers like a disguised
satyr. His morality is a mummer's mask; his pathos is
pretence ; the only thing truly Irish about him is his hu
mor, his ceaseless wit, the unfailing sparkle of his fancy.
Quite suddenly the ghastly tragi-comedy of the King's
life came to an end. There was, we are told, a strange
affectation of an incapacity to be sick that ran through
the whole royal family, which they carried so far that
few of them Avere more willing to own any other member
of the family ill than to acknowledge themselves to be so.
" I have known the King," says Hervey, " get out of his
bed choking with a sore throat, and in a high fever, only
to dress and have a levee, and in flve minutes undress and
return to his bed till the same ridiculous farce of health
was 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 he shammed being well, he kept
up the sham for a good long time. He came into the
world more than a dozen years before Lord Hervey was
born, and he contrived to keep his place in it for some
seventeen years after Lord Hervey had died. Time had
nearly come round with George as with Shakespeare's
Cassius ; his death fell very near to his birthday. George
was born on October 30, 1683, and on October 25, 1760,
he was on the verge of completing his seventy-seventh
year. On October 25, 1760, he woke early, as was his
custom, drank his chocolate, inquired as to the quarter
whence the wind came, and talked of a Avalk in the gar-

304 A HISTORY OF THE FOUR GEORGES. ch. xli.
den. That Avalk in the garden was never taken. The
page Avho attended on the King had left the room. He
heard a groan and the sound of a fall. He came back,
and found the King a helpless heap upon the floor, " Call
Amelia," the dying man gasped ; but before Amelia could
be called he was dead. Amelia, when she came, being a
little deaf, did not grasp at once the full extent of what
had happened, and bent over her father only to learn in
the most startling and shocking manner that her father
was dead. The Countess of Walmoden, too, was sent for.
It would seem as if the ample charms of the Countess of
Walmoden, which had delighted George so much while
he lived, might have some power to conjure him back
from the common doom of kings. But George the Sec
ond was dead beyond the power of all the fat and painted
women in the world to help. " Friends," says Thackeray
in his Essay, " he was your fathers' king as well as mine ;
let us drop a respectful tear over his grave." But indeed
it is very hard to drop a respectful tear over the grave of
George the Second. Seldom has any man been a king
Avith fewer kingly qualities. He had courage, undoubt
edly — courage enough to be habitually described by the
Jacobites as "the Captain," but his courage was the cour
age of a captain and not of a king. He Avas obstinate, he
was narrow-minded, he was selfish, he was repulsively and
even ridiculously incontinent. The usual quantity of base
and servile adulation was poured over the Royal coffin.
The same abject creatures — they or their kind — that had
rhymed their lying verses over the dead Prince of Wales
who had hated his father, now rhymed their lying verses
over the dead king who had hated his son. If George
the Second had been a more common man, instead of be
ing Elector of Hanover and King of England, one might
have said of him frankly enough that he was a person
about as little to be admired as a man well could be who
was not a coAvard or in the ordinary sense of the term a
criminal. But because he was a crowned king, it was
regarded as a patriotic duty then to make much of the

1727-1760. PASSED AWAY. 305
departed monarch, and to talk of him in the strain which
would have been appropriate if he had been a Marcus
Aurelius. The best, perhaps, that can be said of him is
that, 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 succeed him, to say that George the
Second was actually the worst of his line and name ; but
he was so little, so very little, worthy, that the fulsome
pens must have labored in his praise. If many people re
joiced at his removal, it would be hard to say who grieved
with the exception of a few, a select few, of his family
and the hangers-on of the Walmoden type, to whom his
existence was the essential figure in their own existence.
To the vast bulk of the English people the matter M'as
of no moment whatever. All that they knew was that a
second George, who was Elector of Hanover, had passed
aAvay from the English throne, and that a third George,
who was Elector of Hanover, had mounted into the va
cant seat.
Never was a king better served than George the Sec
ond ; never had so ignoble a sovereign such men to make
his kingdom strong and his reign famous. He began his
time of royalty under the protection of the sturdy figure
of Walpole ; he closed it under the protection of the
stately form of Pitt,

end of THE SECOND VOLUME,

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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