Chapter XXXIV.

George I. And The Protestant Succession. (1714-1727.)

It pleases God to confound the fears as well as the hopes of mankind. All moderate Englishmen were passionately attached to the Protestant succession. The great mass of the nation for some years looked forward to the death of Queen Anne with great anxiety, while the Jacobites awaited that event with ill-disguised confidence, believing it the hour of their triumph. The forebodings of the one, as well as the hopes of the other, were equally disappointed. King George I., although away from England, a foreigner, and unknown to all, was proclaimed without opposition, and his name was received with public acclamations as enthusiastic as though he was a well beloved son, ascending peaceably the throne of his father; a powerful and striking indication of that grave and firm resolution which caused the English nation to remain attached to its religious faith, as well as its political liberties; an indication, however, which was long unrecognized by the partisans of the fallen house of Stuart; faithful and blind, not only to the temper of the English people, but also to the disposition and intentions of the princes for whom they were to sacrifice from generation to generation, their estates and their lives.

{136}

King George I., although proclaimed, was still absent, remaining in his electorate, which he was loth to leave. He was naturally slow and deliberate, just and moderate, without any charm of mind or manner, and surrounded by favorites more foreign and more dissatisfactory even than himself to the English nation. A Council of Regency governed during his absence. It contained all the illustrious names of the Whig party, with the exception of the Duke of Marlborough, who was soon placed at the head of the army, and Lord Somers, who was old and an invalid. Louis XIV. recognized the new sovereign. One of the first measures voted by Parliament, was the increase of the reward, from five thousand to one hundred thousand pounds sterling, to any one who should arrest the Pretender, if he dared to land upon English soil.

The prince protested immediately; he wrote from Plombières, where he had gone to take the waters, proclaiming his rights to the crown of England, as well as his grief at the death of the queen, his sister: "whose good intentions we could not doubt," added he. "And we have therefore remained inactive, awaiting the happy issue which has been, unfortunately, prevented by her death." Exiled princes, banished by revolutions, are sometimes ignorant even of the language of the people they hope to govern: in the face of popular indignation, the friends of the Pretender, and those of the last ministry of Queen Anne, were compelled to affirm that the proclamation of Plombières was an odious fabrication.

[Image] George I.

{137}

The king finally arrived, landing at Greenwich, on the 18th of September, 1714, accompanied by his son the Prince of Wales. A ministry was formed immediately, conferring all power upon the Whig party; Lord Nottingham alone belonged, in principle, to the Tories, but parliamentary intrigues had for some time past reconciled him to the triumphant party. William III. had endeavored to unite, in the same government, the chiefs of the two great political factions; but however powerful might be his intelligence and personal action, he was not calculated for internal struggles and jealousies. George I. delivered himself without reserve into the hands of the party that he believed the most faithful to his cause. Even before his arrival in England he ordered the dismissal of Bolingbroke. The seals were immediately taken from him. "I have been neither surprised nor grieved at my fall," wrote he to Atterbury. "The mode that they have used shocked me only for a moment. I am not in any way alarmed by the malice or the power of the Whigs, but that which distresses me is this: I see clearly that the Tory party is destroyed."

The new Parliament was more intensely Whig than the Commons of 1713. Lord Townshend, at the head of the cabinet, was honest and sincere, but as rude in his temper as in his actions. General Stanhope, second Secretary of State, shared his sentiments; both had received from their adversaries an example of violence. Walpole, although holding no prominent official position, but having more influence than any other member of the house, had answered for the Commons, provided the Whigs were allowed full liberty of action.

{138}

The peace of Utrecht was severely censured in the two houses. Seals had been placed upon the papers of Lord Strafford, the intimate friend of Bolingbroke, and Prior was recalled from Paris. The report spread that the poet had promised to reveal the secrets of the negotiations. The displaced ministers were in danger of arrest. Bolingbroke appeared at a play at Drury Lane, on the 25th of March, 1715. He applauded loudly, and, according to the custom of the time, chose another play for the following evening. The same night, carefully disguised, he fled to Dover, and on the evening of the 27th embarked for Calais. Justly troubled, although his conscience was but rarely scrupulous, he did not dare to confront either the revelations of his agents, or the hatred of his enemies. Lord Anglesea, who was not a Whig, but a Hanoverian Tory, had said to him, the preceding year: "If I discover that there is perfidy, I will pursue the ministers from the foot of the throne to the Tower, and from the Tower to the scaffold."

On the 9th of June, 1715, Walpole's report upon the conduct of the deposed ministers was laid before the House of Commons. Bolingbroke was immediately indicted. Lord Coningsby rose: "The honorable president of your committee attacks the hand," said he, "but I accuse the head. He has denounced the clerk. I address myself to the judge; he has accused the servant; I demand that justice be done the master. I accuse Robert, Duke of Oxford, as guilty of high treason."

The adroit prudence of the duke served him better than the alarmed remorse of Bolingbroke; he remained at his house, quietly attending to his affairs, without seeming to avoid the threatened prosecution. He was taken to the Tower, where he remained two years before the passions of his accusers were sufficiently appeased to allow him an acquittal. The Dutchess of Marlborough vigorously opposed his release. While in prison, he received a visit from the Duke of Ormond, who was less compromised by the peace of Utrecht, as he had obeyed the orders of his superiors, but was more deeply engaged in the Jacobite intrigues. {139} Ormond was preparing to fly, although at first he exhibited much disdain. He urged Oxford to follow his example, but the latter refused: "Farewell, Oxford without a head," said Ormond.--"Farewell duke without a duchy," responded Harley. Both recalled the adieus of the Prince of Orange and Count Egmont. The Duke of Ormond never saw England again. Like Bolingbroke, he entered the service of the Stuarts; less fortunate than Bolingbroke, he was not disgraced by his new master, but followed him from one attempt to another, and from retreat to retreat, even to that last gloomy residence at Avignon, where he died in 1745. The storm was preparing; less dangerous than was feared, but nevertheless severe, and destined to leave deep traces. In their vengeance, the ministers employed a certain moderation, as the spirit of their party was more violent than their acts. Young Lord Stanhope, of Shelford, subsequently Lord Chesterfield, said in his first speech in the House of Commons: "I have no desire to shed the blood of my countrymen, still less that of a noble peer; but I am persuaded that the safety of the country requires that an example be made of those who have so unworthily betrayed it."

As soon as Bolingbroke reached Paris, he called upon Lord Stair, the English ambassador. "I promised him not to engage in any Jacobite undertaking," wrote he, after the interview, to Sir William Wyndham; "and I have kept my word. I have written a letter to Lord Stanhope, the Secretary of State, disclaiming all intention of offending the government, and I will retire into Dauphiné, in order to remove any objection that might be made against my residence near the court of France."

{140}

Bolingbroke nevertheless saw the Marshal of Berwick before departing for his retreat. When he learned that a bill of attainder had been brought in against him, he received at the same time an invitation from the Pretender to join him at Commercy. He departed immediately, wearied already of his inaction, and urged on by his anger and love of intrigue. He had scarcely reached Lorraine when he accepted the seals of secretary of state from King James III., although he fully comprehended the vanity of all the Pretender's expectations. "My first conversation with the chevalier," wrote he to Wyndham, "does not respond to my expectations, and I assure you, in all truth, that I have already begun to repent of my imprudence; at least, I am convinced of yours and mine. He spoke like a man who only awaited the moment of departure for some place in England or Scotland, without well knowing where."

The hesitation of the leaders of the Jacobite party was great. While the Duke of Ormond remained in England, he strenuously insisted upon the necessity of co-operation from France, affirming that they could not trust exclusively to a national uprising. Having arrived in France, leaving the conspirators at home without a leader, the duke, when urging the Chevalier St. George to embark with him for England, repeated his assertions and demands. "I have seen here," wrote Bolingbroke, "a crowd of people, each one doing whatever seemed best to him, without subordination, without order, without concert; they no longer doubt the success of the enterprise; hope and anticipation are read in the animated eyes of all the Irish. Those who know how to read and write, are continually interchanging letters, and those who have not attained that degree of knowledge, whisper their secrets in the ear. The ministry is in the hands of both sexes."

{141}

Louis XIV. died on the 1st of September, 1715. "He was the best friend of the Chevalier," said Bolingbroke, "and my hopes sunk as he declined, and died when he expired." The most blind as well as the most ardent among the Jacobites could not be seriously deluded regarding the disposition of the regent; he was indifferent and careless, and naturally inclined to oppose any policy that the late king had followed, and was also reasonably sensible of the dangers of a new war with England. The vessels which, with the connivance of Louis XIV., had been armed at Havre, under false names, for the service of the projected expedition, were demanded by Lord Stair; their cargoes of arms were at once disembarked. Admiral Sir George Byng appeared in the channel with a squadron. Orders were sent to Lord Mar, who had charge of the Pretender's affairs in Scotland, not to give the signal for the rising, but to wait for new instructions. He had already left London.

On the 27th of August, a grand re-union of the chief Jacobites took place at Mar's castle, in the county of Aberdeen. On the 6th of September, the royal standard of the Stuarts was raised in the little village of Braemar. Sixty men only then surrounded it, but soon the contagion spread from village to village, from fortress to fortress. Some days later the country north of the Tay was almost entirely in the hands of the insurgents.

The time for hesitation and prudence on the part of the chevalier had passed; in fact he had already hesitated too long, in the opinion of those who generously risked, for him, all that they possessed. The inclemency of the weather, contradictory advice, snares and enticements held out to him by Lord Stair, the return of the Duke of Ormond, who had attempted, without success, to land upon the coast of Devonshire, all these had retarded his movements. It was not until the middle of December that the Pretender, accompanied by six gentlemen, finally landed at Dunkirk.

{142}

The unfortunate fate of his partisans in England had already been decided. In Scotland it trembled in the balance; and the gloomy forebodings of the most faithful servants of the house of Stuart began to be realized. The Earl of Mar, restless and cunning, clever in court intrigues, but destitute of all military talent, as of all military knowledge, had lingered in the Highlands, remaining for some time at Perth, where his forces increased daily. The Duke of Argyle, placed by the government at the head of the royal troops, found himself at Stirling menaced on all sides by the Jacobites, who, however, did not advance. "When at last Lord Mar drew the sword, he did not know what to do with it," says the Duke of Berwick; "and thus was lost the most favorable opportunity which has presented itself since 1688."

The Scotch had their eyes fixed upon England; the general uprising in the south, anticipated by the Duke of Ormond, had failed, as the plot was discovered, and the chief Jacobites--the Duke of Powis, Lord Lansdowne, and Lord Duplin, were arrested. The ministry demanded of the House of Commons authority to impeach six of its members, compromised in the conspiracy. Sir William Wyndham was defended in vain by his father-in-law, the Duke of Somerset. After being concealed for several days he delivered himself up to justice. Sir Thomas Foster succeeded in escaping, and some days later headed an insurrection in Northumberland. Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdington joined him, and "King James III." was proclaimed, at Warkworth, to the sound of trumpets. Being a Protestant, Sir Thomas was chosen General of the English insurgents. {143} He counted upon combining his movements with those of Brigadier Macintosh, of Bordlase, who had just landed at Aberlady. The alarm extended to Edinburgh. A movement of the Duke of Argyle decided the Jacobites to throw themselves into the citadel of Leith. The Duke arrived under the walls of the fortress. "We do not know the meaning of the word surrender," replied the Highlanders to the demands of the detested chief of the Campbells; "and we have no desire to learn it. We are resolved neither to give nor to receive any quarter. If his grace is disposed to attempt the assault, we are determined to repulse him."

Noble boastings are sometimes the consolation of proud souls when their cause appears doubtful. The Duke of Argyle did not attempt the assault, but returned to Edinburgh, from where he soon advanced to Stirling, now threatened by the Earl of Mar. His presence destroyed the hope of surprising the capital. Macintosh marched to the south, and joined the English insurgents at Kelso. The Northumbrians wished to re-enter England, and endeavored to compel the Highlanders to follow them; they refused. "If we are to be sacrificed," said they, "we intend it shall be in our country." Foster led his troops as far as Preston. A great number of Catholic gentlemen there joined them, bringing in their train crowds of peasants without arms and without discipline. Generals Carpenter and Wills, both experienced officers, who had served with distinction in Spain, advanced against the rebels from the north and from the south. When the news of their approach reached the insurgents, their commander was in bed sleeping off the effects of a drunken debauch. Lord Kenmure had great difficulty in arousing him sufficiently to give intelligible orders.

{144}

On the 12th of November, 1715, the Jacobites were attacked at Preston by General Wills. The defence was feeble, although the insurgents, concealed in the houses, killed many of the soldiers. The leaders were divided. Foster lost courage and proposed a capitulation. "If the rebels wish to lay down their arms, and surrender at discretion," replied the English general, "I will prevent my soldiers from cutting them in pieces, until I have received orders from my government."

The Highlanders were furious; they brandished their weapons, and threatened to cut their way through the royal troops to gain their own country. But already Lord Derwentwater and Brigadier Macintosh had surrendered themselves as hostages, and the soldiers had no other resource than obedience. Prisoners of note abounded in the camp of General Wills; many were to pay with their lives for the part they had taken in an insurrection, inconsiderately undertaken and shamefully and sadly terminated. Only seventeen men had been killed when the little army of Jacobites surrendered at Preston. On the same day, the 12th of November, the Earl of Mar, who had at last shaken off his lethargy and left Perth, arrived at Ardoch, four leagues from Stirling: his forces amounted to about ten thousand men. The Highland chiefs led their clans. A body of gentlemen, well mounted and well equipped, formed a striking contrast to a crowd of peasants badly armed and half naked; but nevertheless resolved to fight.

When Lord Mar learned that Argyle was advancing towards him, and that he occupied Dumblane, he assembled his principal officers, and offered them the alternative of battle or retreat. "Fight! Fight!" cried the Highland chiefs. Soon the same cry spread throughout the army; hats were waved and swords were brandished. When the troops of Argyle began the contest in the valley of Sheriffmuir, the line of battle of the insurgents was imposing. "I have never seen regular troops form a finer line of battle," subsequently said General Wightman, "and their officers conducted themselves with all the bravery imaginable."

{145}

Personal heroism and undisciplined fury were ineffectual when directed by a chief incapable and devoid of energy. The Highlanders forced the left wing of Argyle's army, while that general was pursuing their right, which he had quickly routed. The divisions of the army thus became separated, and had no communication with each other: but Argyle, returning from the pursuit, reformed his regiments upon the field of battle, while Mar, triumphant, at the head of his Highlanders, but anxious, uncertain, and fearing an ambuscade, was slowly uniting his forces. When the enemy appeared, at the foot of the hill, the Scotch chiefs were impatiently awaiting his orders to charge. "Oh, for an hour of Dundee," already cried Gorden of Glenbucket. The bagpipes sounded the retreat, and Mar withdrew, without attempting a final effort "The battle is won," said he to his lieutenants, in the hope of calming their irritation. The Duke of Argyle retired to Dumblane. On the following day he re-appeared on the field of battle, but the Earl of Mar had not returned. "Your Grace has not gained a complete victory," said one of his officers. Argyle responded by singing two lines of an old Scotch song:

"If 'tis not weel wound, weel wound, weel wound, If 'tis not weel wound, we'll wind it again."

The same ardor also animated some of the Scotch in the rebel army. "If we have not yet gained the victory," said General Hamilton, "we must fight every week until we do gain it." But uneasiness and lassitude already pervaded the army and extended even to some of the leaders. Lord Sutherland advanced at the head of the Whig forces. The Highlanders were urged to conceal their booty. {146} Many detachments had already left the army and returned to Perth, when the Chevalier St. George finally landed at Peterhead, on the 22nd of December, 1715. The forces of the Duke of Argyle were increased by the arrival of auxiliary Dutch troops, that had been demanded from the States-General by the English Government, and henceforth his army was larger than that of the rebels.

On the 8th of January, 1716, the Pretender established himself, without opposition, in the royal palace at Scone. The ceremony of the coronation was announced for the 23rd of the same month.

The joy of the insurgents upon learning of the arrival of "_the King_," was great. "We are now going to live like soldiers, and to measure ourselves with our enemies," they said, "in place of remaining here inactive, waiting the vain resolutions of a frightened council." On his part, James, upon landing, had written to Bolingbroke: "Behold me, thanks to God, in my ancient kingdom. I find things in good shape, and I think that all will go well if the friends of your side do their duty, as I will do mine. Show this note to the regent."

The illusions did not last long on either side. The Pretender found the army of his partisans diminished, disordered, and divided. He was not personally qualified to act upon such men, and his virtues were better suited to a monarch peacefully seated upon his throne than to an exiled prince, obliged to conquer his crown. "He was tall and thin," wrote one of the adherents, "pale and grave. He spoke but little; his conversation was vague, and his manners and character seemed measured. I do not know how he would have been in his pleasures; it was not the time for such thoughts. We had no opportunity of gayety, and I never saw him smile. I will not conceal that at the time when we saw him whom we called our king, we were not in any way reanimated by his presence, and that if he was disappointed in us, we were ten times more so in him. {147} We saw nothing in him that looked like spirit. He never showed either animation or courage, in order to cheer us. Our men began to despise him and to ask if he could talk. His physiognomy was dull and heavy. He took no pleasure in mingling with the soldiers, either to see them drill or exercise. It was said that our condition discouraged him: I say that the figure he made among us discouraged us also. If he had sent us five thousand good troops, instead of coming himself, the result would have been different."

James III. had nevertheless done an act of power. He issued proclamations to the army, and these were spread throughout the country. Two Presbyterian ministers only substituted his name for that of King George in their public prayers; the Episcopalians, _en masse_, rallied around the new monarch, who nevertheless refused a promise of tolerance to the Anglican Church of Ireland, and whose assurances were doubtful even in regard to the church of England. He affected great devotion to his friends and to his country. "Whatever happens," said he, in his address to his council, "I will not leave my faithful subjects any reason to reproach me for not having done all that they might have expected of me. Those who neglect their duty and their proper interest, will be responsible for the evil which may happen. Misfortune will be nothing new to me. From my cradle, all my life has been a series of misfortunes, and I am ready, if it pleases God, to endure the threats of your enemies and mine."

{148}

On the 31st of January, on the approach of the Duke of Argyle, urged and constrained to action by General Cadogan, recently arrived from London, the insurgent army began its retreat. The soldiers were discouraged, and the leaders uncertain or irritated. "What has the king come here for?"' asked the soldiers: "is it to see his subjects killed by the executioner, without striking a blow in defence? Let us die like men, not as dogs."--"If his Majesty is disposed to die as a prince, he will find ten thousand Scotch gentlemen to die with him," said a rich country gentleman of Aberdeen. But the forces of the Duke of Argyle were overwhelming. The councillors of the Pretender, alarmed and trembling for his safety as well as their own, and hoping for better conditions in the absence of their prince, urged him to depart. On the evening of the 4th of February, secretly, and after having taken every precaution necessary to deceive the army, the Chevalier left the quarters of the Earl of Mar, whither he had gone on foot. Accompanied by that leader, he entered a small boat and was taken on board a French ship which awaited him. General Gordon was now at the head of an army which was disbanding, in the midst of a country devastated by fire. The prince had ordered the burning of all villages as far as Stirling. He and all his adherents were now exposed to the vengeance of that government which they had so recently menaced. On departing, and as a compensation for so many evils, the Pretender wrote to the Duke of Argyle, sending him all the money he possessed: "I pray you," said he, "have this sum distributed among the inhabitants of the villages which have been burned, in order that I may at least have the satisfaction of not having caused the ruin of any one; I, who would have died for them all."

{149}

The honor of saving a people costs more dearly and necessitates more sacrifices than the Chevalier St. George was inclined to believe, in his indolent nature; he had failed personally, as well as in his political and military enterprises. But the Jacobite party was not destroyed; it was still to nourish long its hopes and to shed much blood for his cause. The insurrection of 1715 was at an end. The Highlanders sought refuge in their mountains, and the great lords and gentlemen either concealed themselves, or escaped from Scotland and increased the little exiled court. James arrived at Gravelines, and from there he went to St. Germain. Bolingbroke joined him immediately. The prince desired to remain a few days in France, but the regent would not permit it, and also refused to see him. He desired to find a refuge with the Duke of Lorraine, before the English government could interfere. The chevalier separated from his minister with feigned protestations of friendship. Three days later the Duke of Ormond presented himself before Bolingbroke, bearer of a letter from James, which thanked him for his services, of which he had no longer need, and ordered him to deliver all the state papers into the hands of Ormond. "The papers were held without difficulty in an envelope of ordinary size," ironically remarked Bolingbroke. "I delivered them solemnly to my Lord Ormond, as well as the seals. There were some letters of the chevalier which would have been inconvenient to show to the duke, and which he had without doubt forgotten. I subsequently sent them to him, by a sure hand, disdaining to play him false by executing his orders to the letter. I did not wish to appear annoyed, being far from angry."

Bolingbroke deceived himself: his anger against the Jacobites constantly displayed itself during the remainder of his agitated and restless life. With a disdainful thoughtlessness, many times too familiar to princes, James measured the devotion of his secretary of state; but he had judged less justly the services which he had already rendered him, and which he might still render.

{150}

"It would seem that one must have lost his senses," wrote Marsna Berwick, "in order not to comprehend the arrant folly which induced King James to deprive himself of the only Englishman able to govern his affairs. Bolingbroke was endowed with brilliant talents, which had advanced him, at an early age, to the highest offices. He exercised a great influence upon the Tory party, of which he was the soul. Nothing could be more deplorable than to separate himself from such a man, at a time when he was most necessary, and when it was important not to make new enemies. I have been a witness of the conduct of Bolingbroke: he had done for King James all that he was able to do."

The entreaties of the queen mother were unable to appease Bolingbroke. "I am free," said he, "and may my hand wither if I ever take the sword or pen in the service of your son." From that time all the thoughts of the exile turned towards England, while the prince whom he had served, and who had not appreciated him, departed for Avignon, thus virtually abandoning his royal party by this retreat to a Papal country, the most odious and most suspected of all, by the English.

Scotland had suffered from the presence of armies, by the destruction of crops, by the flight or death of a great number of the gentry, and by the new animosities excited between the clans engaged on the different sides. The government had taken but few prisoners, and even those were unimportant. The English insurrection had delivered to justice, or to the vengeance of the Whigs, many important hostages. Lord Widdington, Lord Nairn, Lord Kenmure, the Earls of Nithisdale and of Derwentwater, were accused of high treason. All were condemned. The entreaties of their friends obtained the pardon of Lords Nairn, Carnwath and Widdington. Lord Wintoun, who alone had plead "not guilty," and in consequence had undergone a trial, succeeded in escaping from the Tower. {151} Lady Nithisdale had the happiness of saving her husband, who escaped disguised in her clothing. Lord Derwentwater and Lord Kenmure alone remained. Many members of both houses were inclined towards clemency. "I am indignant," said Walpole, with a severity foreign to his character, "to see members of this great body so unfaithful to their duty that they are able to open their mouths without blushing in favor of rebels and parricides." Lord Nottingham boldly declared for the condemned; he was dismissed from the ministry. On the 24th of February, 1716, the two lords perished upon the scaffold at Tower Hill, proclaiming to the last moment their faithful allegiance to King James. Condemnations were less numerous among the rebels of an inferior order. Justice had been severe, but it had not become vengeance. "The rebel who declares himself boldly, justly compromises his life," affirms Gibbon, with positive equity. New measures, purely repressive, were voted against the Catholics, among whom were naturally reckoned many Jacobites. Among the constant partisans of the fallen house, the devotion, the fidelity, the honest and sincere attachment, merit the respect of men and the sympathetic indulgence of history. Indignation and contempt belong to those who had nourished hopes, encouraged intrigues, even furnished resources secretly and perfidiously, like the Duke of Marlborough, the General-in-chief of the armies of King George, without risking a day of their lives nor an atom of their grandeur. The splendor of genius and the most brilliant successes can never efface such a stain. Slowly and noiselessly, Marlborough had lost in public opinion, and he was soon to fall into an intellectual and physical decadence: worthy chastisement of a life, a singular mixture of great power of mind and moral baseness, of cold calculation and violent passions, of glory and of ignominy. {152} Attacked by paralysis, in May, 1716, Marlborough expired on the 16th of June, 1722, and was interred, with royal honors in Westminster Abbey. "I was a man then," said the invalid Duke, when contemplating his portrait in a picture which represented the battle of Blenheim. He left an immense fortune, the results of the great offices which both he and the Duchess had held, as well as the exactions that his extreme avidity for money had led him into. "I have heard his widow say," said Voltaire, "that after the division made to four children, there still remained to her, without thanks to the court, a revenue of £70,000."

National gratitude had contributed its share to this enormous accumulation of wealth. It is to the honor of England that she has always recompensed her great servants magnificently.

Parliament, on its own authority, and by a legitimate exercise of its power, now took an important step. The experience of the last twenty years of triennial legislative elections had convinced many sound thinkers that an agitation so frequently renewed was dangerous to the electors, as well as to the liberty of action of those elected. It was remembered that William III. had once refused his assent to the bill, which was subsequently imposed upon him. A new law decided that the duration of the parliaments should henceforth be seven years. Usage has often abridged this term by a year, but it has remained, notwithstanding frequent infractions, the regular limit for legislatures. About the same time, and in spite of serious obstacles, that clause of the act of Establishment which formerly forbade the sovereigns to leave the soil of Great Britain, was repealed by the houses. The desire of George I. to visit his hereditary states became irresistible; he had long been detained by the jealousy which he felt regarding his son. {153} It was with regret and upon the formal advice of his ministers, that he decided to confide the government to the Prince of Wales during his absence. "This family has always been quarrelsome," said Lord Carteret, one day, to the full Council, "and it will quarrel always, from generation to generation."

The king left England on the 17th of July, 1716, accompanied by the Secretary of State, Stanhope. The latter profited by his presence upon the continent, and formed, with the States-General and the Emperor, a treaty of defensive alliance: the only guarantee which he was able to obtain from the jealous susceptibility of the court of Vienna, and the restless feebleness of the Dutch negotiators. Heinsius was no longer in power, and soon afterwards died. "Forced to rely upon many heads, the government no longer has a head," said Horace Walpole, brother of the leader of the House of Commons and minister to the Hague; "there are here as many masters as wills."

An understanding with France, regarding new enterprises of the Pretender, became necessary to England. The regent was not personally opposed to it; he was weary of the indolence and cowardly incapacity of the Chevalier St. George; he was besides urged by the Abbé Dubois, formerly his tutor, corrupt himself and a corruptor of others, and already secretly at the head of foreign affairs, but waiting until he should be officially appointed, and aspiring to become prime minister.

Without respect for law, destitute of all religious convictions, and consequently inaccessible to the motive which led many good Catholics, in Europe, to desire the re-establishment of the Stuarts, Dubois was able, often far-seeing, and sometimes even bold; he had a mind active, clear, and moderately practical. {154} The alliance of England seemed to him useful to his master and to France. He adroitly availed himself of his former relations with General Stanhope, when commander of the English troops in Spain, in order to begin secret negotiations, which soon extended to Holland. "The character of our regent," wrote Dubois, on the 10th of March, 1716, "leaves no room to fear that he prides himself upon perpetuating the prejudices and the policy of our ancient court; and as you can remark for yourself, he has too much spirit not to recognize his true interests."

Dubois carried to the Hague the propositions of the regent. King George was expected there; the clever diplomat concealed the object of his journey under the pretext of buying rare books. He went, he said, to redeem from the hands of the Jews the famous picture of the Seven Sacraments, by Poussin, recently stolen from Paris. The order of the succession to the crowns of France and England, conformably to the peace of Utrecht, was guaranteed in the treaty. It was the only decided advantage to the regent, who hoped thereby to confirm the renunciation of Philip V. Dubois had demanded that all the conditions of the treaty of 1713 should be recognized. Stanhope formally refused. "It has taken me three days to get out of this with the Abbé Dubois," wrote he to England: as to the remainder, all the concessions came from France; her territory was forbidden to the Jacobites, and the Pretender, who was established at Avignon, was to be invited to cross the Alps. The English demanded the abandonment of the works on the canal at Mardyke, destined to replace the port of Dunkirk. The Dutch claimed commercial advantages. Dubois yielded upon all these points, but defended to the last, with a vain tenacity, the title of King of France, that the English still disputed to our monarchs. Stanhope was urged to terminate the negotiations. Diplomatic complications that threatened to lead to war in the north gravely pre-occupied George I., always absorbed in the interests of his patrimonial States. "The scope of his mind does not extend beyond the Electorate." said Lord Chesterfield; "England is too large a morsel for him."

{155}

Unfriendly relations had long existed between King George and the Czar, Peter the Great, that powerful and erratic genius, who by his personal merit laid the foundations of a great empire. He had made advances to France.

The Dutch were slow in deciding, but in October, 1716, the preliminaries of the treaty were signed by Stanhope and the Abbé Dubois only. On the 6th of January, 1717, the ratifications were finally exchanged at the Hague. "I signed at midnight," wrote Dubois, triumphantly, to the regent; "you are no longer a page, and I have no more fear." The treaty of the Triple Alliance gained for Dubois the office of secretary of foreign affairs. It disturbed the English ministry and disorganized momentarily the Whig party. Lord Townshend was hostile to the haste shown by Stanhope in concluding the treaty; his brother-in-law, Horace Walpole, had refused his signature. Court intrigues aggravated this discontent; the king, besides, was irritated against Lord Townshend and Robert Walpole, whom he regarded as favorable to his son. Always honest, often rude, and with but little tact, Lord Townshend believed he could obtain from George I. discretionary powers for the Prince of Wales. This rendered his fall inevitable. Even before his return to England, the king dismissed his minister, offering to him in exchange for his office, the vice-royalty of Ireland; but scarcely had the session opened, when the animosities became more aggravated, and the apparent reconciliations were broken off. {156} Lord Townshend and Robert Walpole withdrew from public affairs. Lord Sunderland, as able, although not as corrupt as his father, became secretary of state; Addison, at the same time, was called to the ministry, and General Stanhope was appointed First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer. In spite of the ministerial modifications, the power remained in the hands of the Whigs. "While there remain Whigs disposed to serve him, the king is decided to be served by the Whigs," wrote Stanhope, while yet in Hanover, with George I., "and I will not be the one to turn his Majesty from this good resolution, by refusing to take some trouble, or to expose myself to whatever peril may arise."

The ministry and England were at this epoch greatly disturbed by a new intrigue, organized in Europe, in favor of the Pretender. Spain was governed by Cardinal Alberoni, the crafty, ambitious, and bold Italian who had placed Elizabeth Farnese upon the throne with Philip V., and through her exercised the power. He had regulated the finances and industry, he had prepared a fleet and an army; "meditating," he said, "the peace of the world;" and he began this great enterprise, by maneuvres which could lead to nothing less than setting fire to the four corners of Europe, in the name of a feeble and dull king, and of a queen ambitious, artful, and unpopular, "whom he had locked up, carrying the key in his pocket," says St. Simon. He dreamed of establishing the empire of Spain in Italy, of disturbing the government of the regent in France, of overthrowing the Protestant king of England by re-establishing the Stuarts upon the throne, and of raising himself to the supreme power in Church and State. Already he had obtained from Pope Clement XI., the cardinal's hat, by concealing, under the pretext of war against the Turks, the preparations which he was making against Italy. {157} Having remained neutral during the Jacobite insurrection of 1715, he entered into the projects of Görtz, a passionate intriguer, animated against King George by an ardent rancor, and using his influence upon the heroic madman who reigned in Sweden, in order to engage him also in the Jacobite plots. The alliance with the Czar, Peter the Great, was to advance the projects of the Chevalier. A first naval enterprise delivered Sardinia into the hands of Alberoni. The Spanish troops entered Sicily. The Emperor and Victor Amadeus were aroused; the Pope, overwhelmed by reproaches from these two princes, wept, according to his custom, saying that he had damned himself by raising Alberoni to the Roman purple. Dubois profited by the agitations created in Europe by the belligerant attitude of the all-powerful minister, to finally draw the emperor into the alliance with France and England. He renounced his pretensions to Spain and the Indies, and returned Sardinia to Savoy, receiving Sicily in return. The succession to the Duchies of Parma and of Tuscany was assured to the children of the Queen of Spain. The Quadruple Alliance seemed to promise peace to Europe; the Dutch and the Duke of Savoy reluctantly consented. France and England engaged to gain the consent of Spain by force of arms, if they were not able to obtain it peacefully within a certain time.

King George I. demanded from Parliament an increase of naval subsidies. A considerable fleet, under the orders of Admiral Bing, soon appeared in Spanish waters. Lord Stanhope departed for Madrid in order to support by negotiations the salutary effect of the presence of the English fleet. Neither the persuasions of the minister, nor the long line of ships presented by the admiral, acted upon the spirit of Alberoni. He tore up the paper which the admiral presented. {158} "Execute the orders of the king your master," said he, angrily. Upon learning of the departure of Lord Stanhope, he had immediately written: "If my Lord Stanhope comes as a legislator, he may dispense with his journey. If he comes as a mediator, I will receive him; but in any case I inform him that at the first attack of our vessels by an English squadron, Spain has not an inch of ground where I would be willing to answer for his person."

Lord Stanhope had scarcely left Spain, when Admiral Bing, in conjunction with General Daun, who commanded for the emperor, attacked the Spanish fleet off Cape Passero. The Spaniards had recently taken possession of Palermo; Messina opened its gates to them. The Piedmontese garrison had crowded into the citadel, when the victory of the English and the destruction of the growing Spanish fleet suddenly changed the face of affairs. Messina delivered, and Palermo blockaded, without hope of succor, were to Cardinal Alberoni a mortal blow. Furious, he seized the persons and the goods of English residents in Spain, and drove out the consuls. Trumpeters were sent through the streets of Madrid, with orders to the people, forbidding any discussion regarding the affairs of Sicily.

The hope of a diversion in the north, favorable to the projects of the Jacobites, as well as those of Alberoni, was destroyed by the death of the King of Sweden, Charles XII., killed on the 12th of December, 1718, before Frederickshall.

Alberoni summoned the Pretender to Madrid. The conspiracy of Cellamare, absurd and frivolous, organized in Paris against the power of the regent, by the Spanish ambassador and the Duchess of Maine, was discovered by Dubois early in December, 1718. {159} The declarations of war from France and England succeeded each other rapidly (Dec. 17, 1718, Jan. 9, 1719). At the same time King Philip V., by a proclamation, on the 25th of December, 1718, pronounced all his renunciations null and void, and claimed his rights to the crown of France upon the death of Louis XV. At the same time he made an appeal to the States-General against the tyranny of the Regent, who had allied himself, he said, to the enemies of both countries.

In England, as in France, Alberoni counted upon internal divisions and party animosities. The Pretender occupied the royal palace of Buen Retiro, at Madrid; the King and Queen of Spain visited him. A small squadron, secretly armed at Cadiz, put to sea, under the orders of the Duke of Ormond. Public anxiety in England was so great, that the government of King George accepted auxiliary forces sent by the emperor and the States-General. The regent offered troops, and sent to London all the information which he received. A reward was offered for the capture of the Duke of Ormond. Once more the sea protected the coast of England, and the king whom she had chosen. The Spanish flotilla was dispersed by a tempest; two frigates only, having on board Lord Keith, known in Europe under his hereditary title of Earl Marischal, Lord Seaforth, and the Marquis Tullibardine, landed upon the coast of Scotland, with three hundred Spanish soldiers. Some gentlemen joined them. The force of the rebels had increased to about two thousand men, when General Wightman marched against them. Some unimportant engagements were favorable to the rebels, but finally they were defeated. The Highlanders disappeared in the inaccessible recesses of their mountains; the Spaniards were taken prisoners and conducted to Edinburgh. The three leaders of the insurrection withdrew to the western isles, from where they soon embarked; the one to return some years later to Scotland (Lord Seaforth), another to die of grief in the Tower, after the insurrection of 1745 (Tullibardine), and the third to enter the service of the King of Prussia and to add his name to the diplomatic intrigues of Europe. Voltaire and Rousseau were in turn associated with Lord Marischal.

{160}

As usual, the humble partisans of the fallen house suffered bitterly for their blind fidelity. "I made a tour through the difficult passes of the country of Seaforth," wrote General Wightman, "and we terrified the rebels by burning the houses of the guilty, while we spared the peaceful subjects."

Alberoni, weary of the ill-fortune of the Stuarts, and of the useless burden that it imposed upon all those who desired to serve them, informed the Pretender that he should leave Madrid. His intended bride, the Princess Clementine Sobieski, recently arrested by order of the emperor, at the instigation of England, had escaped from her prison; James joined her at Rome, where their marriage was solemnized.

The war was brilliant, notwithstanding the deceptions with which Alberoni incessantly quieted his master. "The regent is able, whenever he desires, to send a French army," wrote the cardinal, on the 21st of November, 1718.

"Assure him publicly that he will not have a shot fired against him here, and that the king our master will have supplies ready for him." The army in fact entered Spain in March, 1719. The old Marshal Villars declined the honor of commanding against the grandson of Louis XIV. The Prince of Conti bore the title of general-in-chief. The Duke of Berwick, less scrupulous than Villars, accepted the effective functions; notwithstanding his former connection with Spain, the presence of his eldest son the Duke of Leria, in the Spanish ranks, and the services that Philip V. had just rendered to the head of the house of Stuart. {161} Alberoni conducted the king, the queen, and the prince of Asturias to the camp. Philip V. expected the defection of the French army, en masse. No one moved; some refugees made an attempt with some officers; their messenger was hung. Fuenterabra, St. Sebastian, and the castle of Urgel soon fell into the hands of the French. Another division burned six vessels which were upon the docks. Everywhere the English brought ruin upon the Spanish navy. Their fleets, separate or united to the French, destroyed the Spanish vessels at Santona, at Centera, and in the port of Vigo; everywhere the magazines were delivered to the flames. This cruel and disastrous war against an enemy whose best troops were fighting at a distance, usefully served the passions as well as the interests of England.

"It is very necessary," wrote Berwick, "that the government be able to make the next Parliament believe that they have spared nothing in order to decrease the Spanish navy." During this time the English fleet, and the troops of the emperor, under the orders of the Count of Mercy, attacked the Spanish army in Sicily; it defended itself heroically, but was without resources, without reinforcements, and diminishing every day. After a momentary success at Franca Villa, the Marquis of Leyde held only Palermo and the environs of Etna.

An attempted insurrection, poorly seconded by some Spanish vessels, failed in Brittany. Three gentlemen and a priest perished upon the scaffold. "Never have I seen a plot more poorly organized," says Duclos, in his Memoirs; "many did not know what they were fighting for." The attempt of Alberoni to excite a revolt in England and France, did not succeed any better than the war in Spain or Sicily. {162} The Spaniards were everywhere defeated, and the cardinal was vigorously attacked at home. He made overtures of peace at London and at Paris. Dubois wrote to Stanhope, who responded immediately: "We would commit a great error if we did not consolidate the peace by the overthrow of the minister who has caused the war. His insatiable ambition has been the only cause of hostilities; if he is compelled to accept the peace, he will yield momentarily to necessity, but with a confirmed resolution of seizing the first opportunity for vengeance. Thank God he does not know either what he can do or what he ought to attempt. He recognizes no other condition for peace than exhaustion and weakness; let us not leave him time to recover himself. Demand from the king that he be sent from Spain. No stipulation could be more advantageous for his Catholic Majesty and for his people. It is a good thing thus to give to Europe an example which may intimidate turbulent ministers, unfaithful to treaties, and who allow themselves to attack impudently the persons of princes."

Three months later, on the 4th of December, 1718, after a prolonged audience with Philip V., who had treated him with his usual kindness, Alberoni suddenly received an order to leave Madrid within eight days, and Spain within three weeks. No entreaty would induce the king or queen to see him. The cardinal retired at first to Genoa, and then to Rome, where he passed the remainder of his life, in the peaceful enjoyment of an immense fortune. The country which he had oppressed, but reanimated and served, soon fell into its former lethargy. "The queen is possessed with a devil," said he, in his retirement; "if she finds a soldier who has any resources of mind, and is a good general, she will cause an uproar in Europe." The queen did not find a general, and on the 17th of January, 1720, the preliminaries of peace were signed at the Hague. {163} The definitive articles were not agreed upon until the 13th of June, 1721. In the interval, thanks to the union with France, England was enabled to put an end to the war with Sweden and Denmark. King George gained the Duchies of Bremen and of Verden, for which he had long entertained pretensions. Peter the Great alone remained in arms. Europe had at last gained the repose which she was to enjoy for many years.

The war had not suspended parliamentary struggles. In 1718, upon a sincerely liberal proposition of Lord Stanhope, the _Acts of Schism_ and of _Occasional Conformity_ were repealed by the Houses. The ministers desired to go further and amend the _Test Act_, in order to place the Dissenters upon a footing of legitimate religious equality with the members of the Anglican Church.

The bishops were divided upon the question. "We have already had much trouble," said Lord Sunderland; "but if we touch the Test, all will be lost." Lord Stanhope desired to include the Catholics; the day of liberty and justice for them had not yet arrived.

King George had just returned to London, after a recent voyage into Germany, when a bold proposition was made in the House of Lords. The peers had not yet forgotten the numerous creations hazarded by the Earl of Oxford in order to assure a majority to the court; the character of the Prince of Wales offered few guarantees, and the foreign favorites were eager for honors and distinctions. The thought was conceived of limiting the number of peers by restraining the royal prerogative. The king made no objection. "His Majesty has so strong a desire to establish the peerage of the realm upon a basis which will assure forever the constitutional liberty of Parliament," said Lord Stanhope, "that he consents not to hinder this great work by the exercise of his prerogative."

{164}

The discussion was long, animated, and many times resumed; the good judgment of the nation finally prevailed over the rancors of the past, and over the jealousies of the future. Adopted by the Lords, the bill was rejected in the House of Commons by a large majority. "The road to the temple of fame formerly passed through the temple of virtue," said Walpole; "this bill makes it necessary to arrive at honor through the winding sheet of an old decrepid lord, or the grave of an extinct noble family." It is the sole happiness of England, and one of the sources of her grandeur, as well as of her security, to have maintained upon the ancient bases a force in the state constantly renewed and liberally recruited by personal merit.

This check to the ministry was important; but a greater shock, which was to overthrow it and overwhelm the country in ruin, was preparing. At the same time that Paris and France were a prey to the fever for wild speculations, excited by the system of Law, England, for other reasons and from other pretexts, suffered an analogous contagion, accompanied by the same fatal results. The South Sea Company had been founded in 1711, by Harley. In guarantee for the payment of the national debt, important privileges had then been accorded to him. In 1719 the directors of the company proposed to liquidate the public debt in twenty-six years, upon condition that the different claims were to be concentrated in their hands, and that they would be supplied with new privileges as well as great latitude in their negotiations. The Bank of England disputed with the South Sea Company the honor and supposed profit of this enterprise, which was put up at auction. A bill of Parliament assured the monopoly to the company, which had engaged to pay seven and a half million sterling. {165} In order to sustain this enormous burden, the directors plunged into the wildest speculations. Walpole had predicted the fatal effects, but without measuring the criminal folly of the leaders, and the stupid avidity of the followers. The shares of the company increased from one hundred and thirty to a thousand pounds sterling; while new societies were formed for the working of the most insane industries. Raising the wrecks upon the coast of Ireland, the freshening of the waters of the sea, the fabrication of the oil of turnsole, the importation of donkeys from Spain, the fattening of pork, formed simultaneously the objects of fictitious speculations, suddenly arrested at the instigation of the South Sea Company, jealous and anxious to concentrate upon their enterprise all the energy of the stock-jobbers. Exchange Alley became the rival of Quincampoix street; the greatest lords, the most delicate ladies; ecclesiastics elbowed merchants and servants, all hurrying to secure for themselves the new stocks put in circulation, and the fabulous profits which were expected from them. The Prince of Wales himself consented to become a director of the company for the working of copper mines in Wales. The intervention of the ministry was necessary to threaten the company with prosecution, before his royal highness would consent to withdraw with a profit of £40,000.

The edifice of Law, in France, began to totter; the ruin of the fictitious companies in England soon involved all reasonable and legitimate speculations. In a few weeks the stock of the South Sea Company fell below three hundred pounds sterling; the suddenness of the catastrophe seriously involved the English speculators. Everywhere families were ruined, fortunes the most solid were shaken, and character and reputations were lost. "The very name of the South Sea Company became odious," says a contemporary. {166} In vain was Walpole, who had recently retired to his country house at Houghton, recalled to London to seek a remedy for the evils which he had foreseen; but the ruin was beyond his efforts and power. Public anger and indignation knew no bounds. The king, who was in Hanover, returned precipitately, and Parliament was convoked for the 8th of December. "I avow," said Lord Molesworth, to the House of Commons, "that the ordinary laws do not reach the directors of the South Sea Company, but extraordinary crimes call aloud for extraordinary remedies. The Roman lawgivers had not foreseen the possible existence of a parricide; but as soon as the first monster appeared, he was sewed in a sack and cast headlong into the Tiber; and I shall be content to inflict the same treatment on the authors of our present ruin."

The calm good sense of Walpole, as well as his prudent foresight, powerfully advanced his ascendancy in Parliament. He succeeded in controlling the unchained passions. "If London was on fire, wise men would endeavor to extinguish the flames before they sought the incendiaries. We have a matter of still greater urgency: to save the public credit." Able and wise measures had been presented to Parliament, but public vengeance was not satisfied; a thorough inquiry ended in the discovery of grave evidences of corruption and bribery. The discussions became so violent that the doors of the House were closed and the keys placed upon the table. The German favorites of the king, the Duchess of Kendal and the Countess of Platen, the Lord Treasurer, the Earl of Sunderland and Mr. Aislabie the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and many other inferior officers of the government, were found to be seriously compromised. A parliamentary quarrel between Lords Wharton and Stanhope agitated the latter so violently that he had an apoplectic fit and died the next day, to the great regret of the public who had never doubted his honesty.

{167}

The Secretary of State, Craggs, justly accused of having received a bribe from the directors of the company, died of the small pox; his father, the Postmaster-General, took poison. Aislabie was sent to the Tower, and the greater part of his property was confiscated. All the property of the directors was seized, and they were declared forever incapable of holding any public office or of sitting in Parliament. Lord Sunderland had lost considerable sums: "He is a dupe, but not an accomplice," scornfully said even his enemies. He was acquitted, but nevertheless could not preserve his power. Walpole succeeded him as first Lord of the Treasury. Sunderland died on the 17th of April, 1721, some weeks after the general elections, and two months before his illustrious father-in-law, the Duke of Marlborough.

Robert Walpole had finally attained the power which he was to exercise during twenty years, for the repose, if not always for the honor and moral grandeur of his country. Jealous of his authority, to the extent of removing from the circle about the king all those not his friends, and even those of his friends whom he could not control absolutely, he encountered, at the outset, the intrigues of the Jacobites, re-awakened by the general discontent and by the new aspirations which the birth of a son awakened in the Pretender.

A new expedition was prepared under the orders of the Duke of Ormond, and matured and directed from England by a council of five members who conducted the affairs of "King James III." The soul of this little clique was the Bishop of Rochester, Francis Atterbury, indefatigable in his zeal as well as inexhaustible in his resources; sincerely attached to the Protestant faith, but sacrificing all to his political passions, and more occupied in preparing for the landing of the invaders and in fomenting an insurrection during the absence of the king in Hanover, than in the care of his diocese. {168} When the plot was discovered, the inferior agents were promptly arrested, and the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Orrery, and Lord North, at first imprisoned in the Tower, were soon released: the bishop remained gravely compromised. Walpole resolved to risk a trial. Among the accomplices a young barrister named Layer alone suffered the extreme penalty; the property of some others was confiscated; but public interest concentrated itself upon the bishop, who was kept in close confinement in the Tower.

Atterbury was eloquent and convincing; when he appeared before the House of Lords, all his efforts tended to prove that the testimony against him was forged. Walpole was compelled to defend himself: "A finer passage at arms between two such antagonists was never seen," said Onslow, the speaker of the House of Commons; "one fighting for his reputation, the other for his life." The evidence was overwhelming against the bishop; he had evidently conspired against a sovereign to whom he had sworn allegiance. His address was as eloquent as able. "I have suffered so much," said he, "that the little strength which I enjoyed at the time of my arrest, in the month of August last, has completely disappeared, and I am not in a state to appear before your lordships, still less to defend myself in an affair of so extraordinary a nature. I am accused of having conspired. What could I gain, my lords, by going thus out of my way? No man in my order is less urged by ambition for higher dignities of the Church. I have always scorned money; too much so, perhaps, for I may now need it. Could I have been drawn by a secret attraction towards papacy? {169} My lords, since I have known what papacy is, I have exposed it; and the better I have known it, the stronger I have opposed it. For the last thirty-seven years I have written in favor of Martin Luther. Whatever may happen to me, I am ready to suffer all, and by the grace of God to perish at the stake sooner than depart from the Protestant faith as set forth by the Church of England. I have awaited my sentence these eight months, my lords, separated from my children, who have not been able to write me or even send me a message without express authority. When the illustrious Earl of Clarendon, accused of treason, was compelled to retire into exile, he had passed the greater part of his life abroad, and was well known there; he understood the language, and he enjoyed a large fortune; all these consolations are wanting to me. I resemble him only in my innocence and my punishment. It is not in the power of any man to alter the first resemblance, but it is in the power of your lordships to profoundly modify the second; I hope for it and I expect it from you." Atterbury was condemned; a majority of the prelates voted against him.

The English Catholics had ardently espoused the cause of the house of Stuart, and they were to pay once again for their illusive imprudence and folly. The attempt which had just cost the Bishop of Rochester his episcopal see and the freedom of his country, served as a pretext for Walpole to propose a tax of £100,000, to be collected from the estates of the Catholics. "Many of them are guilty," said the minister. This contempt for justice and liberty, which long pursued the Catholics in England, weighed upon the French Protestants still longer and more heavily. The bill which passed the Houses included all the gentry who had refused to take the oath of allegiance. Many who had resisted, up to this time, in consequence of a sincere repugnance, now hastened to take the oath to the established order of things.

{170}

"I have observed well," said the Speaker Onslow, who was opposed to the measure of Walpole, "and it was a strange and ridiculous spectacle to see the crowd which gathered at the quarterly Sessions in order to pledge their allegiance to the government, while, at the same time, cursing it for the trouble which it was giving them and for the fear which it inspired. I am convinced that the attachment for the king and his family has received a severe shock from all that happened at this time."

As the exiled bishop put his foot upon the soil of France, at Calais, he learned that Lord Bolingbroke had been pardoned by the king, and had arrived in that city on his way to England. "I am exchanged, then," said Atterbury, smiling. "Assuredly," wrote Pope, the intimate and faithful friend of the bishop, "this country fears an excess of talent, since it will not regain one genius without losing another."

It was to the venal protection of the Duchess of Kendal that Bolingbroke owed the royal pardon. Walpole had not received favorably the overtures which had been made to him in favor of the exile. "The attainder ought never to be abolished, and crimes ought never to be forgotten," said he, in the Council. The Marquise de Villette, niece of Madame Maintenon, at first the friend and subsequently the wife of Bolingbroke, had succeeded in interesting the favorite in his behalf. Eleven thousand pounds sterling were paid, it was said, for permission to return to England. He had as yet recovered neither his title, his rights, nor his fortune. The offer of his services was refused by Walpole. It was not until 1725, and even then, through the intervention of Madame Villette and the Duchess of Kendal, that Bolingbroke, having returned to France, finally obtained permission to present to Parliament a petition that Walpole consented to support. {171} More clear-sighted than he had often been during his public life, Bolingbroke while in France had served continually and to the utmost, the interests of the English minister, by sustaining his brother Horace and his brother-in-law Lord Townshend, in their rivalry against Lord Carteret, the Secretary of State. The amnesty voted by Parliament restored to Bolingbroke his personal fortune, and his rights to the heritage of his father, but without giving him the right of disposing of it. The king had promised Walpole, it was said, that Bolingbroke should never again hold any political position. "I am restored to two-thirds," wrote he to Swift, from his country house at Uxbridge. He received his friends, occupying or at least pretending to occupy himself exclusively with his estate and in literary pursuits. Voltaire was one of his visitors, when driven from France by his quarrel with the Chevalier Rohan, and passed two years in England. This event had a powerful effect upon Voltaire's mind, and many traces of the same may be found in his writings. The relations of the poet with Bolingbroke were of long standing; they had often met at the Chateau de la Source, near Orleans, where the exile lived for some time. "One thing which interests me," wrote Voltaire, "is the recall of milord Bolingbroke to England. He will be at Paris to-day, and I shall have the grief of bidding him farewell, perhaps forever." When Voltaire, in his turn, again reached his own country, he dedicated to Bolingbroke his tragedy of _Brutus_: "Permit me to present to you _Brutus_," wrote he, "although written in another language, _docte sermonis utriusque linguœ_, to you who have given me lessons in French as well as in English, to you who have taught me at least to give to my language that force and that energy which noble liberty of thought inspires: for vigorous sentiments of the soul always pass into the language, and he who thinks forcibly speaks likewise." Voltaire, on asking permission to visit England, had remarked: "it is a country where they think freely and nobly without being restrained by servile fear."

{172}

Troubles in Ireland, caused by the recoinage of money, and in Scotland, by a tax upon beer, which had been substituted for the malt tax, had for some time detained King George in England. Finally, in 1725, he departed for Hanover, accompanied, as usual, by Lord Townshend and the Duchess of Kendal. The state of affairs in Europe had become critical. In France the regent had died on the 2nd of December, 1723; the Duke of Bourbon, who had succeeded him, governed ostentatiously and violently, but without either true force or authority, and abandoned to the influence of his favorite, the corrupt and avaricious Marquise de Prie. Both desired to assure the duration of their power by giving to the young King Louis XV. a wife who would owe to them her elevation, and who would remain submissive to them.

The Infanta of Spain had been educated at the French Court, treated as queen, and was only waiting until her age would permit her to wed the young King Louis XV., according to a treaty solemnly negotiated with Philip V. She was sent back to Madrid, and Marie Leczinska, daughter of Stanislaus, the dethroned and ruined King of Poland, was chosen in her place for the sad honor of sharing the throne of Louis XV. "It is necessary that the Infanta depart immediately, in order that this may be done sooner," said the Count of Morvilliers, who was charged with the marriage negotiations.

{173}

The anger and indignation of Spain were extreme. "All the Bourbons are true demons," said the queen; then turning towards the king, whose origin she had forgotten, in her fury, she added: "Save your Majesty." The fragile edifice of the Quadruple Alliance succumbed beneath the imprudent insolence of the French government. Philip V. gave his daughter to the Prince of Brazil, the heir to the throne of Portugal. By this alliance, agreeable to England, the faithful friend of Portugal, the King of Spain hoped to gain the support of George I. "We will put confidence only in your master," said the queen to William Stanhope, the English minister at Madrid, "and we desire no other mediator but him in our negotiations." The English government nevertheless refused to break with France. Philip V. formed an alliance with the Emperor Charles VI., the most ancient, and even then, the most implacable of his enemies. The Archduke had no son, and wished to secure the succession to his eldest daughter, the Archduchess Maria Theresa. The Pragmatic Sanction which declared this will, awaited the assent of Europe. That of Spain was of great value. She offered, besides, to open her ports to the company of Ostend, recently founded by the Emperor to compete with the Dutch commerce.

The house of Austria divided the house of Bourbon by opposing to each other the two branches of France and Spain. The treaty of Vienna was concluded on the 1st of May, 1725. The two sovereigns renounced all pretensions to their respective states, and proclaimed a full amnesty for their partisans. The emperor recognized the hereditary rights of Don Carlos to the Duchies of Tuscany, Parma and Plaisance; he promised, at the same time, his good offices, to obtain from England the restitution of Gibraltar and Port Mahon. In spite of negotiations already entered into with the Duke of Lorraine, the hands of the Archduchesses, the daughters of the emperor, were promised to the two sons of Elizabeth Farnese, Don Carlos and Don Philip.

{174}

King George was in Hanover when the secret articles of the treaty became known. "On this occasion, it was not the ministers of his Majesty who instructed him," subsequently said Walpole, "but it was his Majesty who gave his ministers the information. The information which the king had received in Hanover was so sure, that they could not be deceived." The Count de Broglie went to Germany to join George I. The King of Prussia, Frederick William I., was called to the conference; the Empress Catherine I., widow of Peter the Great, made advances to Spain in consequence of her antipathy towards England. The necessity for strong alliances was felt; the King of Prussia hesitated, realizing the danger he ran from his nearness to the emperor; he signed, nevertheless, but soon afterwards abandoned his allies. The Treaty of Hanover was concluded on the 8th of September, between England, France, Prussia, Denmark and Sweden. "Hanover advances itself triumphantly upon the shoulders of England," said Lord Chesterfield. George I. was accused of having defended his electorate at the expense of his kingdom; in Hanover the elector was reproached for having protected the commercial interests of England by exposing his native country to great perils. The Count de Broglie shared the English opinion: "His Majesty regards England as a temporary possession, by which it is necessary to profit while at his service, more than as a durable heritage," wrote he, on the 20th of January, 1724, to Louis XV. The Duke of Bourbon had just been replaced at the head of the French government by Cardinal Fleury, moderate and prudent, favorable to the English alliance and sincerely desirous of preserving peace in Europe. {175} Lord Townshend directed the negotiations of the treaty of Hanover. Walpole was secretly jealous and censured certain clauses. The secret articles, concluded at Vienna, greatly pre-occupied England. "I know, from a source, which cannot be doubted," said George I., in his address at the opening of Parliament, in 1727, "that the re-establishment of the Pretender upon the throne of this kingdom, was one of the secret articles signed at Vienna. If time proves that by abandoning the commerce of this nation to one power, and Gibraltar and Port Mahon to another, a market has been made of this kingdom, in order to impose upon it a papist Pretender, what will not be the indignation of all English and Protestant hearts."

The emperor protested boldly against the address from the throne, and appealed from the king to the nation. The Pretender, recently filled with hope, by the alliance of the empire and Spain, alienated these two powers by his cruel conduct towards his wife. The princess had left him on the 15th of November, 1725, to retire into the convent of St. Cecilia, at Rome. War, nevertheless, seemed inevitable; but the emperor realized his feebleness, and cared but little for the interests of Spain. On the 31st of May, 1727, the preliminaries of peace were signed at Paris, between England, France and Holland, on the one part, and the empire on the other. English commerce was satisfied by the suspension of the privileges of the company of Ostend for seven years. Philip V. voluntarily raised the siege of Gibraltar. The prudent moderation of Walpole and of Cardinal Fleury, once again succeeded in maintaining the peace of Europe.

{176}

Walpole was threatened, nevertheless; he governed with sagacity the nation so long and so cruelly agitated, and became rich and prosperous; but he governed without glory. "Little jealous," says De Rémussat, "of honoring men, provided he rules them." He was reserved and haughty, carefully withdrawing from even the shadow of a rivalry. Bolingbroke had never pardoned his hostility; he attacked him anonymously in a journal directed by Pulteney, who was detached from the Whigs by an ancient enmity against Walpole. He undertook to lower him in the estimation of the king. The Duchess of Kendal, secretly hostile to the minister, placed in the king's hands a Memorial drawn up by Bolingbroke, in which the latter pointed out all the dangers to which the state was exposed in the hands of Walpole, and demanded an audience. George I. simply turned over the memorial to Walpole, who promptly divined from whom the blow came. "Join with me. Duchess, in praying the king to accord Lord Bolingbroke an audience;" boldly said Sir Robert. The king hesitated, as he did not speak English. "It is a great proof of the ability of Walpole that he governed the king in Latin," it was said. Bolingbroke understood French perfectly, and it was in that language that the interview was held. The Viscount claimed the restoration of his political privileges. "It is sufficient that your Majesty exacts it," said he. "Sir Robert is here, let him be called, and I will convince him before your Majesty that the thing can be done."--"No, no," replied the king, "do not call him." Then, as the Chancellor of the Duchy of Cornwall, Lechmere, who was at this time antagonistic to both Walpole and Bolingbroke, entered, the king could scarcely refrain from laughter. When his minister, somewhat disturbed, came to learn the result of the conversation with Bolingbroke, "Bagatelle, bagatelle!" repeated George I. Walpole never learned more.

[Transcriber's note: Bagatelle: Something of little value or significance.]

[Image] The Mysterious Letter.

{177}

The king prepared for another journey to Hanover. Some months before, on the 12th of November, 1726, his wife, Sophia Dorothea of Zell, died. She was beautiful and amiable, but arbitrarily condemned by her husband during thirty-six years. The Count of Konigsmark, the man who had, it was said, gained her favors, disappeared mysteriously at the time when the princess was imprisoned, by the order of her father-in-law as well as her husband. The place where the Count was struck down is still shown. Many years later his bones were found under the marble slab before the chimney of the castle. The prince obtained a divorce, but never relaxed his severity towards his wife, who, on her part, never ceased protesting her innocence.

It is said that at the time when King George I. entered Germany, in June, 1727, an unknown person threw into his carriage a letter from the princess, written during her last illness, solemnly adjuring her husband to repent of the terrible injury which he had inflicted upon her, and calling upon him to appear within a year before the tribunal of God.

It was to this summons from the tomb that was attributed that unexpected blow which so suddenly fell upon King George. On the 10th of June, 1727, he departed from Delden in good health, but within a few hours was struck by apoplexy. His servants desired to stop, but the king repeated, in a stifled voice, "Osnabruch! Osnabruch!" When they gained that palace of the prince Bishop, his brother, the King of England was dead.

{178}