CHAPTER XII.

The Author’s motives for continuing his Work in the year 1754--Flattery the vice of Historians--The Author’s apprehensions for the Constitution--His political principles--Embarrassments caused by the death of Mr. Pelham--Difficulties in the way of choosing his successor--Appointment and disappointment of Mr. Fox--His audience with the King--Duke of Newcastle sole Minister--New appointments--Character of Sir Thomas Robinson--Affairs in Ireland--New Parliament--Origin of the War in America--Defeat of Major Washington--Law-suit about Richmond New Park--Debates on the Address--Prince of Hesse turns Papist--Disturbances in the New Parliament--Debates on the Army Estimates--Breach between Sir George Lyttelton and Mr. Pitt--State of parties--Projected changes--Deaths of Lords Gower and Albemarle.

Having never proposed to write a regular history, but to throw together some anecdotes and characters which might cast a light on the times in which I have lived, and might lead some future and more assiduous historian to an intimate knowledge of the men whose counsels or actions he shall record, I had determined to lay down my pen at the death of that Minister, whose fortune, situation, and genius had superinduced a very new complexion over his country, and who had composed a system of lethargic acquiescence, in which the spirit of Britain, agitated for so many centuries, seemed willingly to repose. But as the numbness of that enchantment has been dispelled by the evanition of the talisman, though so many of its mischievous principles survive, I shall once again endeavour to trace the stream of events to their secret source, though with a pen more unequal than ever to the task. A Monkish writer may be qualified to record an age of barbarity and ignorance; Sallust alone was worthy to snatch the rapid episode of Catiline from oblivion; Tacitus, to paint monsters whose lives surpassed caricatura; Livy, to embrace whole ages of patriots and heroes. Though no Catiline, I trust, will rise in my pages, to deform his country by his horrid glory; though our present minister,[240] notwithstanding he has the monkey disposition of Heliogabalus, is happily without his youth or lusts, and by the character of the age that disposition is systematized into little mischiefs and unbloody treacheries; though we have no succession of incorrupt senators; yet the times beginning to wear in some lights a more respectable face, it will require a steadier hand, and more dignified conceptions, than served to seize and to sketch out the littlenesses and trifles that had characterized the foregoing period.

The style, therefore, of the following sheets will perhaps wear a more serious aspect than I have used before: yet shall I not check a smile now and then at transient follies; nor, as much appropriated as gravity is to an historian, can I conceive how history can always be faithful, if always solemn. Is a palace a perpetual shrine of virtue, or incessantly a tribunal of severity? do not follies predominate in mankind over either virtues or vices? and whoever has been conversant in a Court, does he not know how strongly the cast of it verges towards ridiculous? Besides, I am no historian: I write casual Memoirs; I draw characters; I preserve anecdotes, which my superiors, the historians of Britain, may enchase into their weighty annals, or pass over at their pleasure. In one point I shall not vary from the style I have assumed, but shall honestly continue to relate the blemishes of material personages as they enter upon the scene: and whoever knows the interior of affairs, must be sensible to how many more events the faults of statesmen give birth, than are produced by their good intentions.

If I do not forbid myself censure, at least I shall shun that frequent poison of histories, flattery. How has it preponderated in most writers! My Lord Bacon was almost as profuse of his incense on the memory of dead Kings, as he was infamous for clouding the living with it. In the reign of Henry the Seventh, the whole strain of his panegyric (and it is more justly to be called so than Pliny’s, whose patron was really a good Prince), is to erect that sordid Monarch’s tyranny into prudence, nay, his very knavery into policy! Comines, a honester writer, though I fear by the masters whom he pleased, not a much less servile Courtier, says, that the virtues of Louis the Eleventh preponderated over his vices! Even Voltaire, who feels for Liberty more than almost ever any Frenchman did, has in a manner purified the dross of adulation, which cotemporary authors had squandered on Louis the Fourteenth, by adopting and refining it after the tyrant was dead. In his war of 1741, he paints that phantom of Royalty, the present King, extinguishing at Metz, with as much energy of concern, as if he was describing the death-bed of a Titus or an Antonine.

But how unpardonable is a flattering history!--if anything can shock one of those mortal divinities (and they must be shocked before they will be corrected), it would be to find that the truth will be related of them at last. Nay, is it not cruel to them to hallow their bad memories? one is sure they will never _hear_ truth; shall they not even have a chance of _reading_ it?

It may be wondered that I, who know and have drawn the emptiness of present Royalty, should, in the exordium to a new period, in which surely the effulgence of Majesty has not been displayed with any new lustre, detain the reader with reflections on a pageant which has so little operation on the reality of the drama. But I must be pardoned: though I now behold only a withering King, good, as far as acquiescing to whatever is the emergent humour of his people, and by no means the object of jealousy to his subjects, yet I am sensible that, from the prostitution of patriotism, from the art of Ministers who have had the address to exalt the semblance while they depressed the reality of Royalty, and from the bent of the education of the young Nobility, which verges to French maxims and to a military spirit, nay, from the ascendant which the Nobility itself acquires each day in this country, from all these reflections, I am sensible, that prerogative and power have been exceedingly fortified of late within the circle of the Palace; and though fluctuating Ministries by turns exercise the deposit, yet there it is; and whenever a Prince of design and spirit shall sit in the Regal Chair, he will find a bank, a hoard of power, which he may play off most fatally against this constitution. That evil I dread--the steps to that authority, that torrent which I should in vain extend a feeble arm to stem, those steps I mean to follow and record.

My reflections led me early towards, I cannot quite say Republicanism, but to most limited Monarchy; a principle as much ridiculed ever since I came into the world, as the profligacy of false patriots has made patriotism--and from much the same cause. Republicans professed to be saints, and from successful sainthood became usurpers: yet Republicanism, as it tends to promote Liberty, and Patriotism as far as it tends to preserve or restore it, are still godlike principles. A Republican who should be mad, should be execrable enough to endeavour to imbrue his country in blood merely to remove the name of a Monarch, deserves to excite horror; a quiet Republican, who does not dislike to see the shadow of Monarchy, like Banquo’s ghost, fill the empty chair of state, that the ambitious, the murderer, the tyrant, may not aspire to it; in short, who approves the name of a King, when it excludes the essence; a man of such principles, I hope, may be a good man and an honest; and if he is that, what matters if he is ridiculous? A Republican, who sees monarchy realizing, who observes all orders of men tending to exalt higher, what all orders had concurred to depress; who has found that the attempts of the greatest men to divert the torrent, have been turned afterwards to swell it; who knows the inefficacy of all endeavours to thwart the bent of a nation, and who is but too sensible how unequal his own capacity and virtue would be to so heroic a character; such a man may be pardoned, I hope, if he contents himself with the silent suffrage and wishes of his heart, though he has not the parade of martyrs, nor the courage of a Roman, in as _un-Roman_--(why should it be beneath the dignity of history to say?) in as _un-British_ an age as ever was.

* * * * *

Mr. Pelham’s death was unexpected; he was healthy, and not old: all men had concurred to serve under him; none had prepared any intrigues to succeed him. The King had found it comfortable to be governed absolutely, as long as the _viceroy[241] over him_ could govern the kingdom as absolutely: being told of his Minister’s death, he said with a sigh, that could not excite much compassion, “I shall now have no more peace!”

The Houses, who certainly were not to be consulted on the successor, adjourned themselves for a week--who _should_ be consulted, was the question--for nobody pretended to suppose that the Sovereign was to choose his delegate himself. What was as ridiculous as this state of doubt, was the measure taken for solving it--the Duke of Devonshire was sent for--a proper dictator, had the only business of the State been to drive a nail into a wall! The event put the finishing stroke to the ridicule. In the meantime, the Lord Chief Justice Lee was appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer, the forms depending on that office not admitting an interregnum. Lord Chief Justice Pratt had been supplied in like manner on the demission of Aislabie.[242]

As the temper of the age did not admit the ancient folly of that presumptuous officer called a King’s favourite; and as Ministers in late times had towered to power from ascendants gained by abilities or address in the House of Commons, it was natural for the nation to turn its eyes thither: three subjects there presented themselves before the rest, as candidates for the first Ministership; but each attended with almost insuperable difficulties: these were Fox, Pitt, and Murray. The Chancellor hated the first: the Scotch and the Law, two formidable bodies, whom Fox had wantonly and repeatedly provoked, readily listed under that banner: the Princess could not love him from his connexion with the Duke; and though he had been the ostensible second to Mr. Pelham, he had never lived upon any terms with the Duke of Newcastle: but he was the ablest man in Parliament, at least the craftiest Parliament-man, had acted steadily with the Whigs, and had in their eyes the seeming right of succession. Pitt had, or had unluckily acted, very ill health; and was now at Bath. Mr. Pelham, who had adopted him, had, however, died without removing, probably without trying to remove, his Majesty’s excommunication; and that was now allowed all its force, as Pitt had no party that wished his elevation. Murray was a Scot, and too lately been the object of clamour on the worst species of Scotch principles. The Chancellor was already jealous of him; and both Fox and Pitt would have concurred for his exclusion. He was timid himself, and always waving what he was always courting. This Gordian Knot was soon cut; and the world that had pretended to look out for a genius worthy to govern them, in six days descended from their ambition, and submitted to be ruled by no abilities at all.

Fox acted reserve and retirement, and expected to be wooed. His enemies indulged this humour, and deceived him. Stone went to him, and in Murray’s name disclaimed all emulation of that kind, that he never meant to quit his profession, that he aspired _only_ to be Chancellor. The Chancellor on his part contributed: he sent Lord Anson to Fox, to offer reconciliation, though justifying himself on the former quarrel. Between the King and Fox several messages passed by the intervention of Lady Yarmouth. The Princess, however, expressed her dislike; and the Duke of Argyle was warm against his promotion. The late beloved Minister was in the meantime totally forgot, or only remembered by daily discoveries of the duplicity of his conduct. Even his brother, who whimpered for him like a child during the first hours, like a child forgot him, as soon as he had formed the plan of inheriting his power: and nothing tended so much to unravel the mystery of devotion which the nation had conceived for Mr. Pelham, as its appearing, that it had not been the genius of the man, but the servility of the times, which had established his authority--in a fortnight the whole country was prostrate before his brother.

The Duke of Newcastle, who for thirty years together had sapped every Administration, could not resist having courage enough to seize it for himself now it lay so exposed. A faint offer was made to the Duke of Devonshire to sit at the head of the Treasury, which he declining, on the 12th of March at night, only six days after the death of Mr. Pelham, to the astonishment of all men, yet only to their astonishment, it was settled that the Duke of Newcastle should take the Treasury, with Legge for Chancellor of Exchequer, and that Mr. Fox should be Secretary of State, with the management of the House of Commons. Those solemn personages, the Cabinet Council, were directed to offer this disposition to his Majesty, as the result of their wisdoms and opinion--an opinion, that in two days more they were reduced to disavow. The King confirmed this establishment, with this salvo to his Royalty, that Legge should never enter his closet; to so scanty a space was his kingdom shrunk! That very night Lord Hartington was sent to notify the new regulation to Mr. Fox, with this supplement, not imparted to the Council, that his Grace would reserve to himself the disposal of the Secret-Service Money, though he would always exactly communicate to Mr. Fox how it had been employed.

The next morning, the Marquis carried Mr. Fox to the Chancellor, where a reconciliation was completed; though, as this sincere man told Lyttelton and Granville, he had made peace with Fox, yet would never act in concert with him. From thence they went to the new Vizier. On opening upon terms and measures, Mr. Fox mentioned the Secret-Service Money--the Duke cut him short with saying, that his brother had never disclosed the disposal of that money, nor would he. Mr. Fox represented, that if he was kept in ignorance of that, he should not know how to talk to members of Parliament, when some might have received _gratifications_, others not. The Duke answered ministerially, that though he would not inform Mr. Fox, he would inform no one else. Lord Hartington ventured to urge that this was not the message on which he had been sent; and Mr. Fox pushing for further explanation, asked who was to have the nomination to places? Newcastle replied, “I myself.” Fox, “Who the recommendation?” N. “Any member of the House of Commons.” Fox then inquired into the projected measures for securing the approaching Parliament, and what list Mr. Pelham had left for composing it. The Duke said, “My brother had settled it all with Lord Duplin.” Fox replied, “Not all;” and named some unsettled boroughs. The Duke said hastily, “No, no, all was settled.” Fox said, “I will come and look over the list with your Grace.” He answered, “No, I will look it over with Duplin, and then show it to you.” They came away.

Before I prosecute this barter for power, let me make one reflection. How avowed was become the traffic for Parliaments! how extensive the breach of the constitution, since Pym and Hampden presented their bosoms to cover and close the gap! Yet what has befallen this country, but what is common to sublunary establishments? How few years had rolled away between the age of Cato’s Brutus’s, Cicero’s, and the domination of that Imperial fiddler, Nero? Within how small a period did the stock-jobber, Julianus, purchase the very Empire which Trajan had extended to its utmost limits? The auction of votes is become an established commerce, and his Grace did nothing but squabble for the prerogative of being sole appraiser.

Fox felt he was bubbled--yet was irresolute. He seemed unaccountably to have lost the spirit which the Duke seemed as unaccountably to have acquired. But in this transaction, and in many subsequent instances, it appeared, that his timidity was consistent with extreme rashness: his brother’s timorousness more unallayed, had predominated, and given the colour of fear to their joint Administration. The Duke left to himself, always plunged into difficulties, before he shuddered for the consequences: the other had possessed more foresight.

Lord Hartington acquainted the Chancellor with what had passed. He seemed struck; but, as if conscious to the violation of the terms, or determined at once to profit of it, said, he could not see the Duke that evening, but would next morning. At night, the Duke sent for Lord Hartington; not repentant; he was not apt to repent of advantageous treachery. He would not deny the breach of his engagements, but honestly declared he would not stand to them. Lord Hartington, as if avowal of treachery repaired it, expressed no resentment. His impartiality was ludicrous; he thought he displayed sufficient friendship to Fox, by publishing the Duke of Newcastle’s breach of faith; and he knew he should not offend the latter, by adhering to a simple relation of his perfidy.

Fox in the meantime consulted his friends. The Duke of Cumberland dissuaded his complying with terms infringed ere ratified. Horace Walpole, the younger, laid before him the succession of the Duke of Newcastle’s wiles and falsehoods; and being persuaded that this coalition was intended only to prejudice Mr. Fox, and that he would be betrayed, mortified, disgraced, as soon as the new Minister should have detached him from his connexions, and prevented his strengthening them, urged him to refuse the Seals. Sir Charles Williams, who happened to be in England, and whose interest as a Minister in Foreign Courts, indubitably pointed to make him wish Mr. Fox Secretary of State, yet with great honesty laboured in the most earnest manner to tear him back from the precipice on which he stood. He yielded, yet never[243] forgave Sir Charles Williams, whose dissuasion having been most vehement, had made most impression on him. He sent the following letter by Lord Hartington to the Duke of Newcastle:

March 14th, 1754.

My Lord Duke,

As your Grace intends to wait upon his Majesty to-day, I must lose no time to desire your Grace would not acquaint his Majesty that I have accepted the office of Secretary of State. But, if his Majesty has already been acquainted with my acceptance of it, your Grace will, I hope, tell his Majesty that I purpose, with the utmost submission, to beg his Majesty’s leave to decline it. It is impossible his Majesty could think of raising me to so exalted a station, but with a design that I should, with and under your Grace, have the management of his affairs in the House of Commons. This was the whole tenour of your Grace’s messages by Lord Hartington, which, in your Grace’s conference with Lord Hartington and me yesterday morning, and with Lord Hartington last night, have been totally contradicted. Unable, therefore, to answer what, I dare say, is his Majesty’s expectation (though your Grace has frankly declared it not to be yours), that I should be answerable for his Majesty’s affairs in the House of Commons, I beg leave to remain where I am, heartily wishing success to his Majesty’s affairs, and contributing all that shall be in the power of a single man towards it. I am, &c.

On 16th, Fox saw the King. The former said, with humility, that in seven years he had never presumed to enter first on other affairs than of his province. The King interrupted him, “It was a great place I designed for you; I thought I did much for you; many Dukes have had it.” Fox answered, “Sir, your Majesty has been told that I asked for too much.” The King said, “You did; the Secret Service money has never been in other hands than the person’s at the head of the Treasury.” “Perhaps, Sir,” replied Fox, “I did ask too much; but they were more in fault who promised and broke their word: Lord Hartington is witness. I shall speak with truth, not with modesty. I might be a great man in the House of Commons, if I would be Secretary of State at the head of an Opposition--but I prefer serving your Majesty as a private man, without seeing the Duke of Newcastle. He promised me his confidence: I never can believe him more. I am honest, he is not.” The King concluded, “I know it cannot be made up; you are not apt to depart from your resolution--it is a great office! but I have learned _nemini obtrudere beneficium_.”

The triumphant Duke having disabled Fox, and being possessed of Murray, or rather the agent of power for him, had little trouble with the remaining competitor. Sir George Lyttelton, whose warmest prayer was to go to heaven in a Coronet, undertook to be factor for his friends. Unauthorized, he answered for Pitt’s acquiescence under the new plan. He obtained a great employment for himself, overlooked Lord Temple, and if he stipulated without commission for George Grenville, at least it was for a preferment, large beyond the latter’s most possible presumption.

All impediments thus removed, Newcastle obtained his full list of preferments; and the rest of the month was employed in forming and establishing his new court. Legge, as has been said, was made Chancellor of the Exchequer--unwillingly: he preferred his own more profitable place, less obnoxious to danger and envy. The meanness of his appearance, and the quaintness of his dialect, made him as improper for it as unwilling. Sandys’s solemn dulness had made men regret Sir Robert Walpole’s cheerful dignity: Legge’s arch gravity struck no impression after Mr. Pelham’s peevish authority: men had no notion of an epigrammatic Chancellor of the Exchequer. Lord Barnard, Lord Duplin, and Nugent composed the rest of the Treasury. George Grenville succeeded Legge as Treasurer of the Navy. Sir George Lyttelton was made Cofferer; Lord Hilsborough Comptroller of the Household, and Lord Barrington Master of the Great Wardrobe, in the room of Sir Thomas Robinson, who, to give some relief to Lord Holderness, and no possibility of umbrage to the fretful Duke, was nominated to the Seals, which Mr. Fox had declined.

Sir Thomas had been bred in German Courts, and was rather restored than naturalized to the genius of that country: he had German honour, loved German politics, and could explain himself as little as if he spoke only German. He might have remained in obscurity, if the Duke of Newcastle’s necessity of employing men of talents inferior even to his own, and his alacrity in discovering persons so qualified, had not dragged poor Sir Thomas into light and ridicule; yet, if the Duke had _intended_ to please his master, he could not have succeeded more happily than by presenting him with so congenial a servant: the King, with such a Secretary in his closet, felt himself in the very Elysium of Herenhausen!

The Chancellor’s sincerity and services were crowned with an Earldom; but, as Roman Consuls in the very car of Victory were coupled with a slave, to remind them of their mortality, Harry Vane (lately become Lord Barnard by the death of his father,) was created Earl of Darlington at the same hour.

While England was re-settling into a calm, the troubles continued in Ireland. A dangerous tumult was raised at the theatre; the audience called for a repetition of these lines in a translation of Voltaire’s Mahomet:

---- if, ye powers divine, Ye mark the movements of this nether world, And bring them to account; crush, crush these vipers, Who, singled out by a community To guard their rights, shall, for a grasp of ore, Or paltry office, sell them to the foe.

Diggs, the actor, refused, by order of Sheridan, the manager, to repeat them: Sheridan would not even appear on the stage to justify the prohibition. In an instant, the audience demolished the inside of the house, and reduced it to a shell. The Lord Mayor was sent for; he said he was sick: the High-Constable; he was said to be out of town. At the same time, the King issued the contested money by his own authority; for, as the whole currency of Ireland does not amount to above 500,000_l._, the specie in question was necessary to carry on the circulation. The Castle wore so little a spirit of pacification, that the Duke of Dorset wrote to press the disgrace of the Speaker: but the English Ministry would have conjured down the storm by pressing the Earl of Hertford to go Lord Deputy, when the Duke of Dorset should return, which would have avoided the ungracious renewal of the Primate’s share in the Regency. But this was a most unwelcome measure, not to that Prelate only; Lord George Sackville foresaw that Mr. Conway, a kind of contemporary rival, and brother of Lord Hertford, would necessarily share the popular merit of restoring tranquillity; and accordingly, as was supposed, instigated the Irish Chancellor to write to England, that, if he was to carry the Seals before Lord Hertford, he should desire to come to England during that period. Not content with this, the Duke himself wrote to prevent having Lord Hertford for Deputy. The Duke of Newcastle and the Chancellor were much inclined to the pacific method, but the faction of Stone and Murray prevailed, of whom the latter always counselled authoritative measures. It was the Duke of Newcastle’s turn to be bullied. As the latter had usurped England, and the Duke of Argyle had wormed himself into the sole power in Scotland, Dorset asserted and maintained his ascendant in Ireland. The Speaker was removed, and Mr. Hill, uncle of Lord Hilsborough, was made Chancellor of the Exchequer in his room. The Primate, the Chancellor, and Lord Besborough, were constituted Lords Justices on the Duke’s return to England.

On the 8th of April, the Chief-Justice Lee died: Sir Dudley Rider succeeded him; Murray rose to Attorney-General, and Sir Richard Loyd was made Solicitor. The same day the English Parliament was dissolved; and on the 31st of the following month, the new Parliament, chosen in the very spirit of the Pelhams, met and sat for five or six days in order to pass one Bill, and constitute their essence; for, by the Regency Bill, the last Parliament that should sit in the life of the King, was to revive on his death; and the new one was too acceptable to the Ministry, not to be insured. Mr. Legge presided at the Cockpit meeting, for reading the King’s Speech to the Court members. The little man lost his temperance of spirit, and began to deceive himself into an opinion of being a Minister: the Duke of Newcastle, as severe a monitor to Ministers of their nothingness as the most moral preacher, and more efficacious, soon shuffled him out of his dream of grandeur, and having raised him as high as was necessary to his own views, took an immediate turn of depressing and using him ill. At the Treasury Board, the Duke gave papers cross him to Lord Duplin to read, and even sent the latter into the city to negotiate the money affairs for the Government. The obsequiousness of his creatures could not exempt them from his Grace’s jealousy, as oft as he approached them too near to his own person. Legge gave an artful turn to his disgust, and vaunted to the Whigs that his want of favour was owing to his refusal of acting in concert with Stone and Murray: “But that would have been a stain,” said he, “which I thought no time could wash away.”

Pitt came to town much in discontent: Newcastle asked him his opinion of the new settlement: he declined answering; on being pressed, he replied, “Your Grace will be surprised, but I think Mr. Fox should have been at the head of the House of Commons.” Their mutual discontents soon led Pitt and Fox to an explanation on their situation, and on all who had endeavoured to inspire them with jealousy. Pitt complained most of Mr. Pelham, who, he said, had always deprecated, but always fomented their variance. The Chancellor, ever since Pitt’s return, had falsely boasted to him of having proposed him for Secretary of State.

The halcyon days of the new Administration soon began to be overcast by foreign clouds. The pacific genius of the house of Pelham was not unknown to France, and fell in very conveniently with their plan of extensive empire. They had yielded to a peace with us, only to recover breath, and to recoil with greater force after a few years of recruited strength; yet even in the short term lapsed since the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, they had not been unactive. Complaisance in Europe was to cover encroachments in both Indies. Mr. Pelham was willing to be the dupe. If the nation demanded no redress, he would neither propose nor seek it. Redress could be procured but by arms; armaments must be furnished by money; money to be raised might create murmurs; opposition might ensue--were national honour or interest worth hazarding that? And having had the merit of lessening the National Debt, he had the more justifiable and reasonable excuse of dreading to augment it again, when it was still so burthensome. In the East Indies we had lost Madras in the late war; and since the peace, under pretence of the two nations engaging on different sides in support of two contending Nabobs, hostilities had continued with various success.

During Mr. Pelham’s rapid decline of health, a small fleet had been fitted out to protect a trade, which the numerous reinforcements dispatched by the French East India Company, with equal countenance from their Crown, had already rendered very precarious, indeed desperate. In Africa, they debauched our Allies, erected forts, and aimed at embracing the whole Gold Coast and Guinea trade. But their attempts in America grew daily more open, more avowed, more alarming, indeed extended to nothing less than by erecting a chain of garrisons from Canada to the mouths of the Mississippi, to back all our settlements, cut off our communication with the Indians west of that river, and inclose and starve our universal plantations and trade: it would not be necessary to invade them, they would fall of course. The discussions left unsettled by the precipitate peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and proposed to be adjusted by those most ineffective of all negotiators, Commissaries, gave, not a pretence, rather an invitation to the French, to dispatch by force of arms the liquidation of an affair which might be explained to their disadvantage. The fatal treaty of Utrecht had left but too many of our interests in the West Indies problematic: the impetuosity of Lord Bolingbroke to betray Europe left him no moments, could inspire him with no zeal to assert our pretensions in America. The rights of either nation, as adjudged by treaties and mutual concessions, and more easily still to be defined by their actual establishments, were capable of being made tolerably clear: if explored to their source, they were mere pretensions in both. The topic, striking as it is to a mind that can philosophise, abstractedly from connexions with any particular country, is too common to be enlarged upon.

A sea captain first spying a rock in the fifteenth century; perhaps a cross, or a coat of arms set up to the view of a few miles of coast by an adventurer, or even by a shipwrecked crew, gave the first claims to Kings and archpirates over an unknown tract of country. This transitory seizure sometimes obtained the venerable confirmation of an old priest at Rome (who, a century or two before, had in his infallibility pronounced that the existence of such a country was impossible), or of a still more politic, though not less interested Privy Council at home. Sometimes, indeed, if the discoverers were conscientious, they made a legal purchase to all eternity, of empires and posterity from a parcel of naked natives, for a handful of glass beads and baubles. Maryland, I think, was solemnly acquired at the extravagant rate of a quantity of vermilion and Jew’s-harps: I don’t know whether the authentic instrument may not be recorded in that Christian depository the Court of Chancery. By means so holy, a few Princes, who would be puzzled to produce a legitimate title to their own dominions in Europe, were wafted into rights and prerogatives over the boundless regions of America. Detachments were sent to take possession of the new discoveries; they peopled the seaports, they sprinkled themselves over the coasts, they enslaved or assisted the wretched natives to butcher one another, instructed them in the use of firearms, of brandy, and the New Testament, and at last, by scattered extension of forts and colonies, they have met to quarrel for the boundaries of Empires, of which they can neither use nor occupy a twentieth part of the included territory.

What facilitated the enterprises of the French was the extreme ignorance in which the English Court had kept themselves of the affairs of America. That department is subjected to the Secretary of State for the Southern Province, assisted by the Board of Trade. That Board, during Sir Robert Walpole’s administration, had very faultily been suffered to lapse almost into a sinecure; and during all that period the Duke of Newcastle had been Secretary of State. It would not be credited what reams of papers, representations, memorials, petitions, from that quarter of the world lay mouldering and unopened in his office. West Indian Governors could not come within the sphere of his jealousy: nothing else merited or could fix his mercurial inattention. He knew as little of the geography of his province as of the state of it: when General Legonier hinted some defence to him for Annapolis, he replied with his evasive lisping hurry, “Annapolis, Annapolis! oh! yes, Annapolis must be defended; to be sure, Annapolis should be defended--where is Annapolis?” When the French invasions forced him to arouse a little from this lethargy, he struggled to preserve his inactivity, by ordering letters of the most abject and submissive import to be written to our Governors, who pressed for instructions, nay, for permission to defend themselves. Somewhat more of this will appear hereafter. But if he sacrificed the dignity of the Crown with one hand, he thought to exalt it with the other: the prerogative was strained unwarrantably over the Assemblies: the instructions to Sir Danvers Osborn, a new Governor of New York, seemed better calculated for the latitude of Mexico and for a Spanish tribunal, than for a free rich British Settlement, and in such opulence and of such haughtiness, that suspicions had long[244] been conceived of their meditating to throw off their dependence on their mother country.

Lord Halifax, who now presided at the Board of Trade, and who, among the concessions of the Pelhams, had wrenched much American authority from the Secretary of State, was fond of power and business, was jealous of his own and country’s honour, encouraged and countenanced plans and lights for preserving and extending our trade and dominion in that hemisphere, and as much as he could counteracted the supineness of the Administration. Had the Rulers of the State been as alert, the season was favourable; and uncommon incidents threw occasions into their hands of dispelling the dangers that hung over them from the French. Spain was revolved to its true interest; the rudder of Bourbon no longer steered their Court. The ambitious Queen Dowager, who by money, intrigues, and by the prospect of her son Carlos’s succession, as the King was likely to have no children, had preserved a potent faction in the Ministry, was sinking into impotence of power, and saw all her schemes blasted. Don Caravalho and Lancaster, the Prime Minister, died in April this year: the Duke d’Huescar succeeded, and had raised his friend General Wall to be Minister for Foreign Affairs. It is not to be told with what regret the latter quitted England, which had become his country as much by affection as by extraction. He and the Duke were fortunately old Spaniards in principle, and being obnoxious to, were consequently averse to, the Queen Dowager and her French party. One of the first effects of this new Ministry was the fall of Ensenada, the creature of the Queen Dowager. Sir Benjamin Keene discovered, and imparted by the means of General Wall to the King, that Ensenada had sent orders to their West Indian Governors to fall on our ships, and had lent great sums of the Royal treasure to the French East India Company. He was disgraced, but with great lenity, and exiled to Granada.

While the Duke of Newcastle neglected such real opportunities of popularity, he was entering into little details in the Treasury, and threatened great reformations in trifles. The first abuses to be moderated or rooted out were pensions and quarterings on places; the former to gratify his Majesty, the latter to please public opinion. This lasted a fortnight: to support his vain power, both abuses were in his very second year, as will be seen, pushed to enormity.

In August came news of the defeat of Major Washington in the Great Meadows on the western borders of Virginia: a trifling action, but remarkable[245] for giving date to the war. The encroachments of the French have been already mentioned; but in May they had proceeded to open hostilities. Major Washington with about fifty men attacked one of their parties, and slew the commanding Officer. In this skirmish he was supported by an Indian half king and _twelve_ of his subjects, who in the Virginian accounts, is called a very considerable Monarch. On the third of July, the French being reinforced to the number of nine hundred, fell on Washington in a small fort, which they took, but dismissed the Commander with military honours, being willing, as they expressed it in the capitulation, to show that they treated them like friends! In the express which Major Washington dispatched on his preceding little victory, he concluded with these words; “I heard the bullets whistle, and believe me, there is something charming in the sound.” On hearing of this letter, the King said sensibly, “He would not say so, if he had been used to hear many.” However, this brave braggart[246] learned to blush for his rodomontade, and desiring to serve General Braddock as Aide-de-camp, acquitted himself nobly.

The violence of this proceeding gave a reverberation to the stagnated politics of the Ministry: in a moment, the Duke of Newcastle assumed the hero, and breathed nothing but military operations: he and the Chancellor held Councils of War; none of the Ministers, except Lord Holderness, were admitted within their tent. They knew too well how proper the Duke was to be consulted: of course they were jealous, and did not consult him. Instead of him, they summoned one Gates,[247] a very young officer just returned from Nova Scotia, and asked his advice. He was too sensible of their absurdity, and replied, that he had never served but in Nova Scotia, and it would be impertinent to give his opinion; he was ready to answer any questions. They knew not what to ask. When this lad would not be a Marshal, they next consulted one Hanbury, a Quaker, and at his recommendation determined upon Sharpe, the Governor of Virginia, for their General. They told the King he had served all the last war, though he had never served, and that the Duke had a good opinion of him: the Duke said, “So good, that if Sharpe had been consulted, I am sure he would have refused.” We must defer the history of the campaign till its proper season.

No other event happened before the meeting of the Parliament except the decision of a famous cause. The inhabitants of Richmond and the neighbouring gentlemen, even instigated underhand by the Duke of Newcastle, had commenced a suit against Princess Amelie[248] for the right and liberty of entering into New Park at their pleasure: the case was this: Charles the First made the park, partly by pecuniary, partly by compulsory methods, and gave great disgusts by it. Queen Anne gave two or more lives in it to her relations, the Hydes, who suffered it to run to great decay. When Sir Robert Walpole became Minister, who was fond of hunting, and wanted occasional retirement and exercise, he persuaded King George the First to buy out the family of Hyde, and obtained the Rangership for his eldest son, which was confirmed to him by the present King for life. It was a bog, and a harbour for deer-stealers and vagabonds. Sir Robert Walpole drained it, and expended great sums upon it himself; but to obtain more privacy and security, he took away the ladders on the walls, and shut up the gates, but settled keepers at them, who were to open to all foot-passengers in the daytime, and to such carriages as had tickets, which were easily obtained. Princess Amelie succeeded his son Lord Orford, but preserved no measures of popularity. Her brother William had incredibly disgusted the neighbourhood of Windsor by excluding them from most of the benefits of the park there. The Princess entirely shut up New Park, except by giving very few tickets. Petitions were presented to her; she would not receive them. They were printed in the public Newspapers, but had as little effect. Subscriptions were formed, conferences were held to no purpose. At last the cause was brought to a trial. Sir John Philipps and the younger Beckford presented themselves as tribunes of the people to plead the cause, but instead of influencing the Court, they confounded the rest of their Council. The Princess carried her cause.[249]

The children of the Crown in England have no landed appanages: they naturally covet them: Rangerships for lives are the only territories the King has to bestow. Both the Duke and his sister entered more easily into the spirit of prerogative than was decent in a family brought hither for the security of liberty. To shut up Windsor or Richmond parks, if the law permits, is no violation of the constitution; but when Princes of the Blood (and the race is likely to be numerous) come to stand suits for exclusive privileges, it is easy to foresee into what excesses their ambition or their necessities may make them slide.

Nov. 14th.--The Parliament met. The King’s speech endeavoured to inculcate notions of tranquillity, yet with preserving a salvo for demanding supplies hereafter, by just hinting at the preservation of our rights in America. Sir George Lee, who moved the Address in the Commons, spoke plainly on Spain’s having given orders for restoring our ships. Mr. Conway, who seconded him, went a little farther, and descanted on the increase of France. Potter ridiculed Ministerial Addresses well; called them the late lullabies that always acquainted us with the disposition of all the European powers to preserve the peace--but France indeed had spoiled that part of the speech for this year: yet he would agree to the Address, and consider measures hereafter. The Ministers did not know which should act Minister for the day: at last Murray pushed up Legge, who said a few words without dignity; the tenour and point of which was that our conduct was to be _fortiter in re, suaviter in modo_. Beckford said, that we had had such an order for restitution from Spain two years ago; and therefore he should not trust to this. That the marine and colonies of France had not increased in proportion to ours. That we should exert naval strength instead of alliances. With those great alliances in the last war we had run thirty millions in debt. Queen Elizabeth, in her distress, did not go about begging and buying alliances.

Mr. Conway replied in a few words elegantly, that Beckford had mistaken him; that he had not said that the colonies of France had increased in proportion to ours, but along with their landed power in Europe; however, that he was far from not thinking them very formidable in America; for, if we considered their extent of country along the rivers and lakes, it was like a net, which, if drawn a little tighter, might shuffle us into the sea. Lord Egmont, who always larded, or composed his speeches with speculative topics of government, went back to the Revolution, which, he said, was Rebellion, if anything more than restitution of the old constitution. That he would not oppose the Address, because we wanted unanimity, but that too languid a spirit prevailed. That it was thought so necessary to keep peace in the Administration, that we dared not take great steps: yet now was the time, when the House was no longer under any ministerial influence: however, we must take care not to provoke France, when part of the King’s dominions (Ireland) was so discontented. Murray observed, that the new members must wonder at a Debate without a question or opposition: but, said he, how will all this be represented abroad? to Spain, that we don’t believe their offers: to Germany, that we would shake off all our Allies: to France, that we reckon the peace broken; and that we make no distinction between our rights and our possessions. For the Colonies, he believed they would sacrifice everything rather than submit to France: yet was it judicious in Lord Egmont to throw out notions of discontents? The Address passed without a negative.

About this time came unwelcome news to the King: his son-in-law, Frederic, Hereditary Prince of Hesse Cassel, was discovered to be turned Papist. He was a brutal German, obstinate, of no genius, and after long treating Princess Mary, who was the mildest and gentlest of her race, with great inhumanity, had for some time lived upon no terms with her: his father, the Landgrave William, protected her: an arbitrary, artful man, of no reputation for integrity. The hereditary Prince was devoted to France and Prussia. It was not an age when conversions were common; nor were his morals strict enough to countenance any pretence to scruples; it was necessary to recur to private or political reasons for his change, and, from what has been said, it appears in what numbers they presented themselves. Yet even the King of Prussia acted zeal for the Protestant cause. The Landgrave was as outrageous as if he felt for it too. No obstructions being offered by the Catholic powers, the Landgrave and States, with the concurrence of the King, enacted heavy restrictions on the Prince, whenever he should succeed his father.

The scene began to darken at home. As the Duke of Newcastle had secured by employments almost every material speaker in Parliament, it was hoped that the session would be amused, and pass off with regulating controverted elections: there was one of much expectation. The majority in all late Parliaments, and still more in this devoted one, had been composed solely from boroughs: counties were too extensive to be ventured upon in the way of expense, and had been left to their own ill humours, and to the country gentlemen: Oxfordshire in particular had long been a little kingdom of Jacobitism. The Duke of Marlborough, prodigal, and never judicious in his extravagance, would not content himself with the offer made to him by the county, of electing his son as soon as he should be of age: he determined to choose both representatives from his own party. Mr. Pelham had received the proposal with joy: that Duke was led by Fox: if the contest succeeded, Mr. Pelham would command two more members; if it miscarried, Fox and the Duke of Marlborough would labour under all the unpopularity. After unbounded expense, the four candidates were all returned, and the House was to decide on the merits, which must take up several weeks.

There was another election depending, of still nicer discussion; that of Mitchell, in Cornwall. Lord Sandwich had long dictated there, upon the interest of his nephew, Courtney, a minor. The Duke of Newcastle had now encouraged the Boscawens and Edgcumbes to oppose him. Lord Sandwich secured the returning officer, but a petition was lodged against his members. Fox, who sought all opportunities, where the King’s name could not be pretended, of crossing the Duke of Newcastle, warmly and openly espoused Lord Sandwich. Pitt, as ill disposed, was neuter in this; but in the Reading election pretended connexions with Lord Fane, Lord Sandwich’s brother-in-law, and declared on the same side. In this temper the Parliament had opened; and Pitt, who, though ready to give words in change, was not a man to take them, had already come to some explanation with the Duke of Newcastle, and had even said to him, “Fewer words, my Lord, if you please, for your words have long lost all weight with me.”

21st.--A day was to be appointed for hearing the Mitchell election: Lord Sandwich, who tried to defer its being heard, was beat with 127 by 154.

25th.--Another petition being in agitation, the House thin and idle, a younger Delaval had spoken pompously and abusively against the petitioner, and had thrown the House into a laughter on the topics of bribery and corruption. Pitt, who was in the gallery, started, and came down with impetuosity, and with all his former fire said, “He had asked what occasioned such an uproar; lamented to hear a laugh on such a subject as bribery! Did we try _within_ the House to diminish our own dignity, when such attacks were made upon it from without? that it was almost lost! that it wanted support! that it had long been vanishing! scarce possible to recover it! that he hoped the Speaker would extend a saving hand to raise it: he could only restore it--yet scarce he! He called on all to assist, or else _we should only sit to register the arbitrary edicts of One too powerful a subject_!” This thunderbolt, thrown in a sky so long serene, confounded the audience. Murray crouched, silent and terrified. Legge scarce rose to say with great humility, “That he had been raised solely by the Whigs, and if he fell sooner or later, he should pride himself in nothing but in being a Whig.”

The evening of this novel day was still more tempestuous. The Committee of Elections opened. Mr. Gray, a steady but plausible Tory, favoured by the Chancellor and Sir George Lyttelton, desired to have the petition against him from Colchester deferred, till it was sure of being heard. Sir Thomas Robinson said, “That might be soon, for the Reading election, which was to precede it, could not last long; there was but a majority of one vote for Lord Fane, and it was a poor cause.” Pitt sprung up, and attacked Sir Thomas fiercely; told him how ignorant he was to talk in that style of a cause unheard; that he was not to be thus taught his duty by any man; but if the first officer in the State could make so gross a supposition, there would be short work with elections: he never thought to see so melancholy a day! Sir Thomas replied with pomp, confusion, and warmth, that spirit should be shown: could gentlemen, could merchants, could the House bear, if eloquence alone was to carry it? he hoped words only would not prevail! that for himself, he executed an office, of which he had never been ambitious. Pitt replied with cool art, and showed that he had only aimed the stroke at the Duke of Newcastle, through Sir Thomas, to whom he now spoke with respect, and with esteem of his integrity; adding, _that he thought him as able as any man that had of late years filled that office, or was likely to fill it_. The weapons that Pitt laid down Fox took up, and exercised them with still more inveteracy and warmth on poor Sir Thomas and his ignorance: “If one of the greatest men in the House pronounced it a poor cause, it would indeed be a poor cause; but he imputed it to his inexperience: he was the first great man, and he hoped would be the last, that ever pronounced so on a cause unheard!” It was plain that Pitt and Fox were impatient of any superior; and as plain by the complexion and murmurs of the House in support of Sir Thomas Robinson, that the inclinations of the members favoured neither of them.

27th.--The Committee sat on the Army, late but without a division; and in general the Debate was dull: the subject had long been exhausted, and during the former Opposition had been a constant day for teaching young and callow orators to soar. The younger Beckford, who had been announced for a genius, and had laid a foundation for being so, by studying magazines and historical registers, made a tedious harangue against standing armies; and moved for 15,000 men, instead of the old number of 18,800. Lord Barrington answered him well, and told him how little difference it would make to the constitution; if eighteen thousand intended to overturn it, fifteen might. That none of the usual number could be spared; from whence could they? The licentiousness of the capital, the mutinous miners and colliers, the smugglers, the destroyers of turnpikes, all the outlaws that increase of riches and licence produces and encourages, all were to be kept in awe. And so far from soldiers being a burthen, the country rejoices in being under their protection. That instead of squabbling for trifles, everybody should unite at this conjuncture to make the late great man as little missed as possible. That the great men he has left will show spirit; and spirit never brought on a war. His Majesty has the hearts of the people, of all who can feel gratitude or the benefits of their own situation. The Ministry have popularity, and it must be owing to Beckford’s absence in Jamaica, that he did not know that the period which he had wished to see of a popular King and Administration, was actually arrived--but perhaps Jamaica Newspapers were as faulty as our own. Fox told the elder Beckford, that if he was Sheriff next year, he hoped he would not keep the resolution he had declared, of not calling in the military, if they are wanted: and added, that the soldiers behave so discreetly, that in eight years that he had been Secretary at War, he had not received three complaints in a year, even from innkeepers.

Nugent added in reply to Beckford (who had said that the Opposition were Whigs and the Ministry Tories,) that he hoped he had not taken his idea of Whigs from those who refused King William his Dutch troops: if he had, he did not wonder that he mistook the Ministers for Tories. He applied the old apologue of the hen and ducklings; and then flew out into this gross and barefaced strain, _that there did not exist an honester man than the Duke of Newcastle!_ professing that he should be the most crouching slave if he meant this for flattery. Pitt, only smiling at this Drawcansir in adulation, and bent to pursue the humiliation of Murray, said that the moderation of the Estimate was a proof of the Crown’s attention to economy; but he could by no means agree in our opulence, and would recommend it to gentlemen not to deceive themselves or others. We are in reality a distressed people: he hated declamation, and was as little given to anger, but nothing should hinder him from asserting what he felt, and from averring what he knew. Young members may allow too much to what is spoken in that place: when anybody says he don’t believe that Jacobitism exists, he would tell him to his face he did not believe what he said. Nugent called him to order.

Pitt was a little disconcerted, but resuming himself said, “For the nursing mother, the hen, he had been bred under such an one,[250] and he would tell the House what she had been doing for these twenty years; she had been raising a succession of treason--there never was such a seminary! but he would throw himself into the gap, and would as cheerfully make his protest alone, as in the most applauding assembly. He knew what he was; he knew what he would be; and was too cool not to know what he said. That the body he meant (Oxford) was learned and respectable: so much the more dangerous! he would mention what had happened to himself the last summer on a party of pleasure thither. They were at the window of the Angel Inn; a lady was desired to sing _God save great George our King!_ The chorus was re-echoed by a set of young lads drinking at a college over the way, but with additions of rank treason. He hoped, as they were lads, he should be excused from not having taken more notice of it. After this, walking down the High Street, in a Bookseller’s shop he observed a print of a young Highlander with a blue ribbon: the Bookseller, thinking he wanted to buy it, held it out to him--but what was the motto!--_hunc saltem everso Juvenem!_--This was the prayer of that learned body--for it was in Latin!” Colours, much less words, could not paint the confusion and agitation that worked in Murray’s face during this almost apostrophe! his countenance spoke everything that Fawcett had been terrified to prevaricate away.

Two days after this, an incident happened of a private nature, scarce worth mentioning, but as it served to dissolve the remains of so historic a friendship as that of Mr. Pitt and Sir George Lyttelton, and brought out all the colours of some remarkable characters. Mr. Conway was repeating with concern to the younger Walpole the lamentations of Sir George on Mr. Pitt’s coldness[251] and his own apprehensions that the complexion of the times denoted new troubles. Walpole, who had not so pacific a disposition, but whose passion to see a new Opposition had been considerably damped by Mr. Fox’s acquiescence under the Duke of Newcastle’s sole power, and who loved Mr. Conway enough to sacrifice to his love of peace, when he had little prospect of gratifying his own love of party, owned to him carelessly, that he knew the Duke of Bedford had a propensity to reconcile himself to the Court, that the Duchess and her friends were eager for it, and gave Mr. Conway leave to talk it over with Sir George Lyttelton, if by any means they could make use of this disposition to reconcile the growing humours. It was singular, that Horace Walpole, who had so eagerly attacked the promotion both of Pitt and Lyttelton, should, in the most distant manner, negotiate their re-union. However, on reflection (for it is certain that he had dropped this discourse without any), he recollected, that it was not acting handsomely by Mr. Fox, who at least was out of humour, to throw new strength into the Duke of Newcastle; and accordingly went to Mr. Conway to retract the permission he had given, and to desire no mention might be made of what had passed in their conversation--but how was he surprised to meet Mr. Conway coming to him in the greatest anxiety, and begging his pardon, for what indeed Mr. Conway was not to blame.

In short, Sir George Lyttelton, who had before professed to Mr. Conway a resolution of quitting his employment, unless he could hold it with Mr. Pitt’s good opinion, had been so struck with the first idea of what he heard of the Duke of Bedford, and saw such an opening to favour by transacting the treaty, that instead of consulting with, or leaving it to Mr. Conway’s coolness or fitness to chalk out the path of negotiation, he hurried to Newcastle House, and whispered his intelligence. Newcastle said, with his usual hurry, “My dear Sir George, there is nothing I would not give to accomplish such a reconciliation.” Sir George, accepting this declaration as full powers, and forgetting at once that he was aggravating his breach of friendship with Mr. Pitt, and that of all men living he was the most improper to transact with the Duke of Bedford on so nice a point, having quitted him for Newcastle, and being involved in a private family quarrel with him too, posted away to Bedford House, demanded an audience, took no measures to soften the abruptness of his commission, but at once told that Duke, that he understood his Grace was a little mollified, and in the Duke of Newcastle’s name, offered him _charte blanche_.--How was the volunteer Ambassador astonished at a flat refusal! The hot little Duke was transported with the importance this gave him; and notwithstanding the solicitation of the Duchess and his Court, whose measures were all overset by Lyttelton’s awkward policy, the Duke immediately sent for Mr. Pitt, and communicated the message. Pitt flattered his steady virtue and disinterestedness, and broke openly with Sir George, who was first disavowed by the Duke of Newcastle, and then disavowed his own having gone so far as he had done. Horace Walpole, who would have had art indeed, had he planned and foreseen how the event would blow up the six months’ labour of the pacific part of Bedford House, but who had acted merely from inadvertence, laughed and confirmed the Duke of Bedford in his highest opinion of his own importance and steady virtue.

The late impetuous and joint attack on Sir Thomas Robinson had alarmed his principal: the Duke of Newcastle saw his mighty power totter; yet he could not determine to share it. The first thought was to dismiss Pitt. This was too bold a measure to have the preference long: the next, more natural, was to try to sweeten Fox: accordingly, on the morning of the 29th, the King sent for Fox, and reproached him for concurring to worry Sir Thomas Robinson, and asked him if he had united with Pitt to oppose his measures? Fox assured him he had not, and that he had given him his honour he would resign first. “Then,” said the King, “will you stand up and carry on my measures in the House of Commons, as you can do, with spirit?” Fox replied, “I must know, Sir, what means I shall have, or I cannot answer for what I cannot answer.” “It will be better for you,” said the King; “you shall have favour, advantage, and confidence”--but would not explain particulars, only asking, if he would go to the Duke of Newcastle. “I must, if you command me,” answered Fox, “go and say I have forgot everything.” “No,” replied the King: “I have a good opinion of you; you have abilities and honesty, but you are too warm. I will send a common friend, Lord Waldegrave.” He told him too, “I have obligations to you that I never mentioned; my son (the Prince) tried you, and you would not join him; and yet you made no merit of it to me.”

The negotiation was entrusted to Lord Waldegrave: Stone, probably from perceiving that Murray dared not undertake the rudder of the House of Commons, promoted the treaty--and did himself no service with the Princess, who prevailed on Lord Egmont to accept, and on the King to offer him an employment. The Junto, who had laboured to keep Pitt and Fox disunited, more than to secure either of them, were reduced to take the one or the other. The Chancellor had discovered so much of the secret of his breast, as to ask Pitt, “Could you bear to act _under_ Fox?” Pitt replied, “My Lord, leave out _under_; it will never be a word between us; Mr. Fox and I shall never quarrel.” Originally, Pitt had assured the Chancellor and the Duke of Newcastle that he would not unite with Fox. When he saw that to promote division was their only drift, he sought heartily and sincerely to league with Fox, and told him that they had _formalized_ at his professions.

Fox, irresolute, affecting content, borne down by the Duke from opposition, and aspiring at sole power, conferred with Pitt, but would not enter into real measures. The King proposed that Fox should write his demands: he asked for time, waiting to see what should be their decision on Pitt, who set them at defiance. The Duke of Marlborough proposed to Fox, to limit his demands to a Cabinet-Counsellor’s place, “For,” said he, “you don’t mind money.” The Duke of Cumberland disapproved the advice: “The King,” said his Royal Highness, “could do better and more sensibly than he will, but he will do just as the Duke of Newcastle bids him. He has a good memory; he will remember this; and when he sees a proper occasion, perhaps some years hence, he will tell you you did right--but he will never tell you so till he sees that occasion. I don’t know him, but by what you tell me, Pitt is, what is scarce--he is a man. If they should give you this Cabinet-Counsellor’s place, and Pitt should hereafter attack the Duke of Newcastle, and you should not defend him, they will say you have broke your word.”

The Duke of Marlborough persisted, but advised Fox to add, that he would not oppose Pitt. The Duke approved it with this modification. Fox drew the letter, and showed it to Pitt, who liked it, provided some words were omitted; “For,” said he, “if they give a hint to invention that I would do the least thing to keep my place, it would hurt me beyond measure.” The letter thanked the King for his goodness, and said, that understanding what his Majesty, who was determined to have no Minister at the head of the House of Commons, required, was, that he (Fox) should act there with spirit, not only in his private but public capacity, he, coveting no lucrative employment, wished only for a feather, to show that his Majesty had done him the honour to ask his assistance. Cabinet-Counsellor was not specified, but was construed to be meant, by Lord Waldegrave, who delivered the letter, and who explained to the King, that Fox would never accept Pitt’s place, that it might not be objected to him at his re-election, and that Pitt might not say he answered him for money. He was ready to act _under_ Sir Thomas Robinson, “For,” said Fox, laughing, “what is acting under _him_? if there is a meeting of the Council, it will be his paper and pens and his green table: if we both rise to speak, I will yield to him.” Lord Waldegrave added, that if Fox answered Pitt, it should always be in defence of the measures, but with particular civility. These qualifications were accepted, and the dignity of Cabinet-Counsellor granted a few days afterwards. Yet Fox, on receiving it, privately forswore all connexion with Pitt. As the latter came to the knowledge of that secret abjuration, and as it was so much the interest of men so little scrupulous of treachery as the Chancellor and the Duke of Newcastle, to have Pitt apprized of it, it is neither refining nor uncharitable to suspect who divulged it.

The Mutiny Bill coming on, Mr. Fox had showed Lord Egmont a new clause for subjecting the American regiments to English discipline. He took it as gravely as if he were still to oppose, though it was public that he was to succeed the superannuated Lord Fitzwalter, as Treasurer of the Household, and, as he himself had said, by special command of the Princess. The first day he did not attend. December 11th, Oswald and Henley spoke for the clause: Lord Egmont, struck with the old sounds, and forgetting his new engagements, could not resist the impulse of haranguing against a Mutiny Bill. He rose, and spoke on his ancient topics of military law, of massacre and butchery, and of all he had foretold, and said, that everybody must be sensible that, in the situation he stood, he must have had grievances brought to him from every part of the known world; and talked much on the old constitution, the feudal law, and prerogative. Pitt spoke after him, but gently, and not well; Lord George Sackville well. Charles Townshend (who had ambitioned the Treasury on the late settlement, had stuck out for some time, and had then accepted the Admiralty), hurt at a new promotion over his head, started up, and not considering how indecent it was in him, a little Minister, to discourage renegades, fell with warmth and insolence and eloquence on Lord Egmont; pointed out the ridicule of a popular tribune speaking for prerogative, and against revolution principles; then panegyrized the Board of Trade, defended all their acts, even the instructions to Sir Danvers Osborn; and, turning again to Lord Egmont, bade him take the poor American by the hand, and point out his grievances; his Lordship was able, and used to be willing to bring out grievances; he had threatened he would; yet he defied him--if that would not do, he beseeched him--to point out one grievance; for his part, he did not know of one; he should be glad to learn why his Lordship did not intend to mention one _now_: and then, in the most provoking manner, and in terms most intelligible, he attacked him on the place he was going to accept. Lord Egmont was abashed, replied with confusion, said he might state grievances hereafter, but hoped things were going to be redressed. He was over-powered by the attack, and excused himself from accepting the promised employment.

At the conclusion of the year deceased two men in great offices, whose deaths made remarked what their lives might have done; how little they were worthy of their exaltation. The one, Lord Gower, Lord Privy Seal, had indeed a large fortune, and commanded boroughs. Lord Albemarle, the other, died suddenly at Paris, where his mistress sold him to that Court. Yet the French Ministry had little to vaunt; while they were purchasing the instructions of our Embassador, attentive only to acquire the emptiest of their accomplishments, they employed at our Court a man too empty to learn even the dullest of ours. Lord Albemarle made great proficience in the study of their manners, while Monsieur de Mirepoix could not learn even to pronounce the names of one or two of our games at cards, which, however, engaged most of the hours of his negotiation. Our Colonies were to be protected by the copy of a _Petit Maitre_; we were to be bullied out of them by an apprentice to whist! How serious a science, Politics!

FOOTNOTES:

[240] The Duke of Newcastle. This was written in 1756.

[241] Expression of Shakspeare in the Tempest, in one of the scenes of sailors.

[242] In the reign of George the First.

[243] [There are no traces of this in Mr. Fox’s papers. On the contrary, he and Sir Charles continued intimate friends till the illness and death of the latter.]--E.

[244] [If as the Author asserts, this was written at the time, it is a very remarkable passage.]--E.

[245] And as remarkable for being the first action in which Washington was mentioned, who near thirty years afterwards became the principal figure in America.

[246] [It is wonderful that Lord Orford should have allowed this expression to remain after he had lived to witness and admire the subsequent career of that great man, General Washington.]--E.

[247] This young man also was afterwards a considerable person in America.

[248] His Grace had formerly pretended to be in love with Princess Emily, but hated her now, on her connexion with her brother, the Duke, and the Bedfords.

[249] She carried her cause against a road for coaches and carts, but some few years afterwards lost a suit commenced against her for a footway, on which she abandoned the park.

[250] Oxford.

[251] Pitt and Lord Temple resented Lyttelton’s negotiating for them, though it is certain he had used all his endeavours to serve them--but as they had meant to have the sole power of serving, not to be served, they treated him as ill as if he had sold them.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

B.

(_Vide page 9._)

_Constitutional Queries, earnestly recommended to the serious Consideration of every true Briton, dispersed in 1751, and ascribed to Lord Egmont._

Whether this capital may not be beset with troops, under such orders and commands, as may render the power of King, Lords, and Commons precarious; and subject our liberties, property, and laws, once more, to a military regulation?

Whether, if alarm posts should be appointed, places of rendezvous assigned, officers have the word, not to be absent, though on no duty, without express leave, and to hold themselves in readiness on a moment’s warning, such regulations in time of peace would not have a martial air, by no means becoming the freedom of a British constitution?

Whether disgracing or dismissing old officers, men of family, men of property, in order to make way for the promotion of boys, slaves, and beggars, would not be such a garbling of the Army, as might furnish very melancholy apprehensions of its destination?

Whether such terrifying dispositions ought not to alarm a free people; and might not with too much reason induce them to apprehend, that the time was approaching when some _important blow was to be struck_?

Whether, if a _younger_ son of the Crown should ever be invested with absolute power over such an Army; and, at the same time, by a factious connexion, make himself master of the Fleet, our lives and fortunes might not be dependent on his will and pleasure, and the _Right of Succession_ have no other security than his want of ambition?

Whether adding to this dangerous degree of power the sole direction of affairs in the Cabinet likewise, might not give him such a dictatorial authority as would enable him to expel from his father’s Council and person every moderate Minister, true Englishman, and old servant of the Crown, who, though perhaps unable to prevent, might in some measure delay, the execution of his designs?

Whether, during the time of peace, experiment has not been actually made in one part of this country (now under the cloud of prejudice) how far an army may be depended on in usurping a dominion over law?

Whether, if in any country express and positive orders should be generally and circularly given by authority to the troops to execute the law, to seize and imprison the persons of the subjects, upon such information as they should think sufficient, without the concurrence of the civil power, such country might not be deemed under a direct military government in its rankest form?

Whether a successful attempt in one part of a country would not furnish sanguine hopes of reducing the remaining part to the like unconstitutional dominion?

Whether the omnipotence of a commander, joined with the faction, stupidity, and corruption of the times, might not be able to stifle and baffle all regular proof of such notorious acts of arbitrary and tremendous power?

Whether it might not be prudent to reflect on the fatal instances of John of Lancaster and crook-backed Richard?

Whether an abused K---- and kingdom, liberty, property, and the laws, do not all concur to inspire this timely invocation?

GOD PRESERVE THE SUCCESSION.

C.

(_Vide page 31._)

_The following Queries are humbly offered to the serious consideration of every True Englishman._

Whether it has not strongly appeared by the late conduct of the House of Commons, that they are more eager and industrious to create and to foment the spirit of party and sedition, than to promote the liberty and happiness of the people?

Whether the leaders of the House have not by open force, as well as private fraud, endeavoured to weaken and reduce even the appearance of a free constitution?

Whether, in the case of Mr. Murray, the House of Commons did not assume a power they had no just right to?

Whether they did not proceed throughout in a most illegal, unconstitutional, unprecedented manner?

Whether they did not try him upon an accusation they knew to be false, scandalous, and groundless?

Whether they did not condemn him in defiance of all law, and in the most open violation of justice?

Whether their proceedings have not made a dangerous encroachment upon the freedom and independency of the British people, as well as brought a lasting dishonour upon the British Parliament?

Whether their daily conduct does not tend, instead of remedying the distractions of a jarring people, to throw them into a continued confusion, and to make resentment and rebellion become habitual to Britain?

Whether there is not reason to expect that we shall soon be deprived of the most valuable right a British subject can enjoy, the right of election?

Whether we are not bound upon the most conscientious motives by any means in our power to defend it?

Can we patiently look upon these fresh endeavours to abuse and to divide the nation? can we patiently bear fresh loads of oppression multiplied without measure, and extended without limitation?

D.

(_Vide page 77._)

This song was written immediately after the loss of the battle of Fontenoy, and was addressed to Lady Catherine Hanmer, Lady Falconberg, and Lady Middlesex, who were to act the three goddesses with Frederick Prince of Wales, in the Judgment of Paris, whom he was to represent, and Prince Lobkowitz, Mercury.

SONG,

BY FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES.

1.

Venez, mes cheres Deesses, Venez, calmer mon chagrin; Aidez, mes belles Princesses, A le noyer dans le vin. Poussons cette douce ivresse Jusqu’au milieu de la nuit, Et n’écoutons que la tendresse D’un charmant vis-à-vis.

2.

Quand le chagrin me devore, Vite à table je me mets, Loin des objêts que j’abhorre, Avec joie j’y trouve la paix. Peu d’amis, restes d’un naufrage, Je rassemble autour de moi, Et je me ris de l’étalage Qu’a chez lui toujours un Roi.

3.

Que m’importe que l’Europe Ait un ou plusieurs tyrans? Prions seulement Calliope Qu’elle inspire nos vers, nos chants. Laissons Mars et toute la gloire, Livrons nous tous à l’amour; Que Bacchus nous donne à boire; A ces deux faisons la cour.

4.

Passons ainsi notre vie, Sans rêver à ce qui suit; Avec ma chere Silvie[252] Le tems trop vite me fuit. Mais si par un malheur extreme, Je perdois cet objêt charmant; Oui, cette compagnie même Ne me tiendroit un moment.

5.

Me livrant à ma tristesse, Toujours plein de mon chagrin, Je n’aurois plus d’allegresse Pour mettre Bathurst[253] en train. Ainsi pour vous tenir en joie, Invoquez toujours les Dieux, Qu’elle vive et qu’elle soit Avec nous toujours heureux.

E.

(_Vide page 77._)

SONG.

THE CHARMS OF SYLVIA.

BY THE PRINCE OF WALES ON THE PRINCESS.

’Tis not the liquid brightness of those eyes, That swim with pleasure and delight, Nor those heavenly arches which arise O’er each of them to shade their light:

’Tis not that hair which plays with every wind, And loves to wanton round thy face; Now straying round the forehead, now behind Retiring with insidious grace:

’Tis not that lovely range of teeth so white, As new-shorn sheep equal and fair; Nor e’en that gentle smile, the heart’s delight, With which no smile could e’er compare:

’Tis not that chin so round, that neck so fine, Those breasts that swell to meet my love, That easy sloping waist, that form divine, Nor ought below, nor ought above:

’Tis not the living colours over each By nature’s finest pencil wrought, To shame the full-blown rose, and blooming peach, And mock the happy painter’s thought:

No[254]--’tis that gentleness of mind, that love So kindly answering my desire; That grace with which you look, and speak, and move, That thus has set my soul on fire.

(_Vide page 78._)

The elegy alluded to was probably the effusion of some Jacobite royalist. That faction could not forgive the Duke of Cumberland his excesses, or successes, in Scotland; and not content with branding the Parliamentary Government of the House of Brunswick as usurpation, indulged in frequent, unfeeling, and scurrilous personalities on every branch of the reigning family.

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

(_Vide page 88._)

_Note._--[The following, which is styled “Brief account of George Bubb Doddington, Lord Melcombe,” is written in Horace Walpole’s printed copy of the Diary; and as it contains some traits of character, and other anecdotes of a person who is often mentioned in the Memoirs, and who has himself related many of the same transactions, it is here subjoined to the work, though no injunctions to that purport were left by the author.]

George Bubb Doddington was son of an apothecary at Carlisle, by a sister or near relation of Mr. Doddington of Eastberry, in Dorsetshire, who bequeathed him his estate and name, with obligation to finish the vast seat at Eastberry, designed by Vanbrugh; and which was pulled down by Richard Grenville, first Earl Temple, on whom it was entailed, in case of Bubb’s having no issue, as happened. Doddington had a great deal of wit, great knowledge of business, and was an able speaker in Parliament, though an affected one, and though most of his speeches were premeditated. He was, as his diary shows, vain, fickle, ambitious, servile, and corrupt. Early in his life, he had been devoted to Sir Robert Walpole, and in an epistle to him, which Pope quotes, had professed himself,

In power a servant, out of power a friend.

At a much later period of life he published an epistle to Lord Bute, whom he styled Pollio. Mr. Wyndham, editor of his Diary, wrote to Dr. Joseph Warton, in 1784, that he had found, among Doddington’s papers, an old copy of that poem, _but inscribed to Sir Robert Walpole_. He fell more than once under the lash of Pope, who coupled him with Sir William Yonge in this line--

The flowers of Bubbington and flow of Yonge.

Soon after the arrival of Frederick Prince of Wales in England, Doddington became a favourite, and submitted to the Prince’s childish horse-play, being once rolled up in a blanket, and trundled down stairs; nor was he negligent in paying more solid court, by lending his Royal Highness[255] money. He was, however, supplanted, I think, by George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton, and again became a courtier and placeman at St. James’s; but once more reverted to the Prince at the period where his Diary commences. Pope was not the only poet who diverted the town at Doddington’s expense. Sir Charles Hanbury ridiculed him in a well-known dialogue with Gyles Earle, and in a ballad entitled “A Grub upon Bubb.” Dr. Young, on the contrary, who was patronized by him, has dedicated to him one of his satires on the love of fame, as Lyttelton had inscribed one of his cantos on the progress of love. Glover, and that prostitute fellow Ralph, were also countenanced by him, as the Diary shows.

Doddington’s own wit was very ready. I will mention two instances. Lord Sundon was Commissioner of the Treasury with him and Winnington, and was very dull. One Thursday, as they left the board, Lord Sundon laughed heartily at something Doddington said; and when gone, Winnington said, “Doddington, you are very ungrateful; you call Sundon stupid and slow, and yet you see how quick he took what you said.” “Oh, no,” replied Doddington, “he was only laughing now at what I said last Treasury day.”--Mr. Trenchard, a neighbour, telling him, that though his pinery was expensive, he contrived, by applying the fire and the dung to other purposes, to make it so advantageous, that he believed he got a shilling by every pine-apple he ate. “Sir,” said Doddington, “I would eat them for half the money.”--Doddington was married to a Mrs. Behan, whom he was supposed to keep. Though secretly married, he could not own her, as he then did, till the death of Mrs. Strawbridge, to whom he had given a promise of marriage, under the penalty of ten thousand pounds. He had long made love to the latter, and, at last, obtaining an assignation, found her lying on a couch. However, he only fell on his knees, and after kissing her hand for some time, cried out, “Oh, that I had you but in a wood!” “In a wood!” exclaimed the disappointed dame; “what would you do then? Would you _rob_ me?” It was on this Mrs. Strawbridge that was made the ballad,

My Strawberry--my Strawberry Shall bear away the bell;

to the burthen and tune of which Lord Bath, many years afterwards, wrote his song on “Strawberry Hill.”

Doddington had no children. His estate descended to Lord Temple, whom he hated, as he did Lord Chatham, against whom he wrote a pamphlet to expose the expedition to Rochfort.

Nothing was more glaring in Doddington than his want of taste, and the tawdry ostentation in his dress and furniture of his houses. At Eastberry, in the great bedchamber, hung with the richest red velvet, was pasted, on every panel of the velvet, his crest (a hunting-horn supported by an eagle) cut out of gilt leather. The foot-cloth round the bed was a mosaic of the pocket-flaps and cuffs of all his embroidered clothes. At Hammersmith[256] his crest, in pebbles, was stuck into the centre of the turf before his door. The chimney-piece was hung with spars representing icicles round the fire, and a bed of purple, lined with orange, was crowned by a dome of peacock’s feathers. The great gallery, to which was a beautiful door of white marble, supported by two columns of _lapis lazuli_, was not only filled with busts and statues, but had, I think, an inlaid floor of marble; and all this weight was above stairs.

One day showing it to Edward, Duke of York, Doddington said, “Sir, some persons tell me that this room ought to be on the ground.” “Be easy, Mr. Doddington,” replied the Prince, “it will soon be there.”

In the approach to his villa at Hammersmith, Mr. Doddington erected a noble obelisk, surmounted by an urn of bronze, to the memory of his wife, who died before him. Mr. Wyndham, his heir, took down the obelisk, and sold it. The Diary was certainly not published entire. A gentleman, who saw it five years before it was published, missed some particular passages.--H. W., June 7th, 1784.

Another instance of Doddington’s wit. Doddington was very lethargic: falling asleep one day, after dinner, with Sir Richard Temple, Lord Cobham, the General, the latter reproached Doddington with his drowsiness; Doddington denied having been asleep, and to prove he had not, offered to repeat all Lord Cobham had been saying. Cobham challenged him to do so. Doddington repeated a story, and Lord Cobham owned he had been telling it. “Well,” said Doddington, “and yet I did not hear a word of it; but I went to sleep because I knew that about this time of day you would tell that story.” * * * *

(_Vide page 98._)

In the Sackville family a son of talents had frequently succeeded a father below mediocrity. The following epigram, founded on that circumstance, was ascribed to Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, but never acknowledged by him, or included in the manuscript copies of his poems. The last stanza was unjust, as well as severe; but there is so much arch humour in the first, that it is worth preserving:--

Folly and sense in Dorset’s race Alternately do run, As Carey one day told his Grace, Praising his eldest son.

But Carey must allow for once Exception to this rule; For Middlesex is but a dunce, Though Dorset be a fool.

* * * *

(_Vide page 164._)

The following inscription, though professedly written on a Swedish nobleman, the English reader will at once apply to a certain great statesman of British manufacture:--

“HIC SITUS EST SENATUS PRINCEPS, et REGNI PRÆFECTUS; Vir nobilis, splendidus, affabilis, blandus, At animo non magno, nec magnâ corporis dignitate. Cujus nomen et laudes tota jamdiu celebrat Academia; Quem sacerdotes aulici omnes imprimis observant; Quem reverendissimi Præsules, ut Deum colunt.

Qui cibi conquisitissimi perquàm intelligens, Et convivia sumptuosè apparandi unicus instructor, Doctissimos Trimalchionis coquos, Mercede amplissimâ conductos, In patriam, inque patriæ, scilicet, honorem, Primus curavit arcessendos.

Qui indisertus, loquax, obscurus, Disertissimos oratores, et sapientissimos Non modò vicit omnes, Sed hos ipsos semper habuit Sententiæ suæ astipulatores.

Quippe populi captandi, et corrumpendi mirus artifex, Atque ad conservandam, quam consecutus est, potentiam, Ut alius nemo, callidus, Summam Imperii diu tenuit. Rei tamen publicæ administrandæ, Perinde atque suæ, Minimè peritus.

Tria millia talentûm ex agris et fortunis suis, Totidemque fortasse e regio, cui præest, ærario Exhausit, et dissipavit. Neque quemquam hominem probissimum, Deque republicâ, aut re literariâ optimè meritum, Liberalitate suâ decoravit, aut adjuvit.

Solus ex omnibus Belli et pacis arbiter fuit constitutus: At belli legitimè suscipiendi, et persequendi, Aut pacis honestè retinendæ, aut firmandæ Solus ex omnibus expers et ignarus.

Semper vehementissimè occupatus, Ac res permagnas visus agere, Omninò nihil agit. Semper festinans, properansque, Atque ad metam tendere prorsùm simulans, Nunquam pervenit.

Hæc fortassis, Viator, rides: Sta verò et tristem lege Epilogum; HUJUS unius hominis inscitia Tantum impressit dedecus, Tantum attulit detrimentum reipublicæ, Ut omnibus appareat, Nisi SUECIÆ Genius, siquis est, sese interponat, SUECIAM futuram non esse.”

(_Vide page 177._)

Henrietta, daughter of Sir Henry Hobart, was first married to Colonel Henry Howard, afterwards Earl of Suffolk, by whom she had an only son, Henry, who succeeded his father, but died a young man. Mr. Howard and she travelled in very mean circumstances to Hanover before the accession of that family to the Crown; and after it, she was made a Woman of the Bedchamber to the Princess; and being _confidante_ of the Prince’s passion for a lady, who was in love with, and soon after privately married to, a Colonel, Mrs. Howard had the address to divert the channel of his inclination to herself. Her husband bore it very ill, and attempted to force her from St. James’s, but was at last quieted with a pension of 1200_l._ per annum. Yet Mrs. Howard had little interest with the King. The Queen persecuted whoever courted her; and Sir R. Walpole directing all his worship to the uncommonly-powerful wife, Mrs. Howard naturally became his enemy, and as naturally attached herself to Lord Bolingbroke; the more intimate connexion of which intercourse, carelessly concealed by a mistress that was tired, and eagerly hunted out by a wife still jealous, was unravelled by the Princess Emily at the Bath, and at last laid open by the cautious Queen; the King stormed; the mistress was glad he did, left him in his moods, and married George Berkeley, brother to the late Earl, by whom she was again left a widow in 1746.

King George the Second has often, when Mrs. Howard, his mistress, was dressing the Queen, come into the room, and snatched the handkerchief off, and cried, “Because you have an ugly neck yourself, you love to hide the Queen’s!” Her Majesty (all the while calling her “_My good Howard_,”) took great joy in employing her in the most servile offices about her person. The King was so communicative to his wife, that one day Mrs. Selwyn, another of the Bedchamber Women, told him he should be the last man with whom she would have an intrigue, because he always told the Queen. Their letters, whenever he was at Hanover, were so long, that he has complained when she has written to him but nineteen pages; and in his, at the beginning of his amour with Lady Yarmouth, he frequently said, “I know you will love the Walmoden, _because she loves me_.” Old Blackbourn, the Archbishop of York, told her one day, “That he had been talking to her Minister Walpole about the new mistress, and was glad to find that her Majesty was so sensible a woman as to like her husband should divert himself.” Yet with the affectation of content, it made her most miserable: she dreaded Lady Yarmouth’s arrival, and repented not having been able to resist the temptation of driving away Lady Suffolk the first instant she had an opportunity, though a rival so powerless, and so little formidable. The King was the most regular man in his hours: his time of going down to Lady Suffolk’s apartment was seven in the evening: he would frequently walk up and down the gallery, looking at his watch, for a quarter of an hour before seven, but would not go till the clock struck.

The King had another _passager amour_ (between the disgrace of Lady Suffolk and the arrival of Lady Yarmouth) with the Governess to the two youngest Princesses; a pretty idiot, with most of the vices of her own sex, and the additional one of ours, drinking. Yet this thing of convenience, on the arrival of Lady Yarmouth, put on all that dignity of passion, which even revolts real inclination.

F. G. H.

(_Vide page 204._)

_Extracts from Letters of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, during his Ministry at Berlin._

TO THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

Berlin, July 11-22nd, 1750.

.... Count Podewils’s behaviour to me has been hitherto very cold, and when I meet him at third places, he contents himself with making me a bow, without speaking to me.

I have made one visit to Monsieur Finkenstein, who is the second Minister of State for Foreign Affairs. He has very much the air of a French _petit-maître manqué_, and is extremely affected in everything he says and does: but from what I have been able hitherto to learn, his credit with the King of Prussia increases daily; and that of Count Podewils is not thought to be so good as it formerly was. The former has lately gained a point over the latter: Count Podewils’s kinsman, who is at Vienna, was named to be a Minister of State before Count Finkenstein; but Count Finkenstein has got into his employment, and when Count Podewils returns from Vienna, Count Finkenstein will take place of him. Not that his Prussian Majesty gives entire confidence either to Podewils or Finkenstein; he reserves that for two persons that constantly reside with him at Potsdam, and whose names are Heichel and Fredersdorff; the first of whom is his Prussian Majesty’s Private Secretary, and who is always kept under the same roof with his Prussian Majesty, and is so well watched, that a person may be at this Court seven years without once seeing him. The other, who is the great favourite, was once a common soldier, and the King took a fancy to him, while he was yet Prince Royal of Prussia, as he was standing sentinel at the door of his apartment. This person has two very odd titles joined together, for he is styled _valet de chambre_, and _grand tresorier du Roi_. He keeps out of all people’s sight as much as Heichel.

But there is lately arose another young man, who has undoubtedly a large share in the King of Prussia’s favours: his name is Sedoo: he was not long ago his page, then came to be a lieutenant, and is very lately made a major, and _premier ecuyer de l’ecurie de Potsdam_, and will undoubtedly soon rise much higher.

_Another Extract._

.... On Thursday, by appointment, I went to Court at eleven o’clock; the King of Prussia arrived about twelve, and Count Podewils immediately introduced me into his closet, where I delivered his Majesty’s letters into the King of Prussia’s hands, and made the usual compliments to him in the best manner I was able. To which his Prussian Majesty replied, to the best of my remembrance, as follows: “I have the truest esteem for the King of Great Britain’s person, and I set the highest value upon his friendship. I have at different times received essential proofs of it; and I desire you would acquaint the King, your master, that I will never forget them.” His Prussian Majesty afterwards said something with respect to myself, and then asked me several questions about indifferent things and persons. He seemed to express a great deal of esteem for my Lord Chesterfield, and a great deal of kindness for Mr. Villiers, but did not once mention Lord Hyndford, or Mr. Legge. I was in the closet with his Majesty exactly five minutes and a half.

After my audience was over, the King of Prussia came out into that room where the Foreign Ministers wait for his Prussian Majesty. He just said one word to Count de la Puebla (the Austrian Minister) as he came in, and afterwards addressed his discourse to the French, Swedish, and Danish Ministers; but did not say one word either to the Russian Minister or myself.

_Extract from another Letter, in Cipher._

Berlin July, 28, 1750.

.... About four days ago, Mr. Voltaire, the French poet, arrived at Potsdam from Paris. The King of Prussia had wrote to him about three months ago to desire him to come to Berlin. Mr. Voltaire answered his Prussian Majesty, that he should always be glad of an opportunity of throwing himself at his Majesty’s feet, but at that time he was not in circumstances to take so long a journey; upon which the King of Prussia sent him back word, that he would bear his expenses; but Mr. Voltaire, not caring to trust the King of Prussia, would not leave Paris till his Prussian Majesty had sent him a bill of exchange upon a banker in that town for 4000 rix-dollars, and he did not begin the journey till he had actually received the money. All that I now write your grace was told me by the Princess Amalie.--(_Author._)

[The following extracts from the private correspondence of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams will further illustrate the remark in the text, and show the unfavourable view taken by him of the Prussian Court and Frederick the Great.]

_Extract of a Letter from Charles Hanbury Williams, from Berlin, 1750._

.... ’Tis incredible what care this _Pater Patriæ_ takes of his people. He is so good as to meddle in their family affairs, in their marriages, in the education of their children, and in the disposition of their estates. He hates that anybody should marry, especially an officer, let him be of what degree soever, and from the moment they take a wife, they are sure of never being preferred. All children are registered as soon as born, and the parents are obliged to produce either certificates of their deaths, or the male children themselves, at the age of fourteen, in order to be enrolled, and to take the oath of a soldier to the King; and if this is not done, or the children have escaped, the parents are answerable for the escape, and are sent to prison.

No man can sell land throughout all the Prussian dominions without a special licence from the King: and as he does no more give licences, nobody can now dispose of or alienate his possessions. If they could, and were to find fools to purchase them, I believe he would not have ten of his present subjects left in a year’s time. They have really no liberty left but that of thinking. There is a general constraint that runs through all sorts of people, and diffidence is painted in every face. All their ambition and desire is to be permitted to go to their Country Seats, where they need not be obliged to converse with any but their own family. But this leave is not easily obtained, because the father of his country insists upon their living at Berlin, and making his Capital flourish. He is never here but from the beginning of December to the end of January, and during that time, Prussians, Silesians, and all his most distant subjects, are obliged to come and make a figure here, and spend all they have been saving for the other ten months. He hates that any subject of his should be rich or easy; and if he lives a few years longer, he will have accomplished his generous design. There are actually but four persons in this great town that live upon their own means, and they are people that can’t last long in their present condition.

He (always meaning _Pater Patriæ_) gives very small salaries to all employments, and this is the cause that he can get no gentleman to serve him in a Foreign Legation. His Ministers at every Court are the scum of the earth, and have nothing but the insolence of their master to support them; and, indeed, the Prussian method of treating with every Court is such, as I wonder how Sovereign Princes can bear. Of this, if I had time, I could give you many provoking instances. His Prussian Majesty’s Ministers at Berlin--I mean those for Foreign Affairs--make the oddest figure of any in Europe. They seldom or never see any dispatches that are sent to the Prussian Ministers at Foreign Courts; and all letters that come to Berlin from Foreign Courts go directly to the King; so that Mr. Podewils and Count Finkenstein know no more of what passes in Europe than what they are informed of by the Gazettes. When any of us go to them on any business, the surprise they are in easily betrays their ignorance, and the only answer you ever get is, that they will lay what you say before their master, and give you an answer as soon as he shall have signified his pleasure to them. When you return to their houses for this answer, they tell you the exact words which the king has directed, and never one word more; nor are you permitted to argue any point. In short, they act the part of Ministers without being really so, as much as ever Cibber did that of Wolsey upon the stage, only not half so well.

The first of them is reputed to be an honest man, but he is nothing less. He loses that appearance of credit he once had, daily; for verily I believe he never had real weight enough with his master to have made an Ensign in his Army, or a Postillion in one of his Posthouses. His face is the picture of Dullness when she smiles, and his figure is a mixture of a clown and a _petit-maître_. He is a little genteeler than Mons. Adrié, who you may remember to have seen make so great a figure in England.

The other, Count Finkenstein, whom everybody calls Count Fink, is very like the late Lord Hervey, and yet his face is the ugliest I ever saw. But when he speaks, his affectation, the motion of his eyes and shoulders, all his different gestures and grimaces, bring Lord Hervey very strongly into my mind; and, like that Lord, he is the Queen’s favourite (I mean the Queen Mother’s); and her Majesty, whether seriously or otherwise I can’t tell, calls him “_Mon beau Comte Fink_.” He has parts, and is what, at Berlin, is called _sçavant_, which is to say, that he has read all the modern French story books, from _Les Egaremens_ down to the history of _Prince Cocquetron_.

The person who has certainly the greatest share of the King of Prussia’s confidence is one Heichel. He is his Private Secretary, and writes all that the King himself dictates. But this man I never saw, and people that have lived here seven years have never seen him. He is kept like a State Prisoner, is in constant waiting, and never has half an hour to himself in the whole year.

[Then follows the account of Fredersdorff, to the same purpose, and nearly in the same words as in the extracts printed above.]

He (Fredersdorff) is his Secretary for all small affairs for his Prussian Majesty.--

Il fait tout par ses mains, et voit tout par ses yeux.

If a Courier is to be dispatched to Versailles, or a Minister to Vienna, his Prussian Majesty draws, himself, the instructions for the one, and writes the letters for the other. This, you’ll say, is great; but if a Dancer at the Opera has disputes with a Singer, or if one of those performers want a new pair of stockings, a plume for his helmet, or a finer petticoat, ’tis the same King of Prussia that sits in judgment on the cause, and that with his own hand answers the Dancer’s or the Singer’s letter. His Prussian Majesty laid out 20,000_l._ to build a fine theatre, and his music and Singers cost him near the same sum every year; yet this same King, when an opera is performed, wont allow ten pounds per night to light up the theatre with wax candles; and the smoke that rises from the bad oil, and the horrid stink that flows from the tallow, make many of the audience sick, and actually spoil the whole entertainment. What I have thought about this Prince is very true; and I believe, after reading what I say about him, you will think so too. _He is great in great things, and little in little ones._

* * * * *

In the summer 1749, three Prussian Officers came, without previously asking leave, to see a Review of some Austrian troops in Moravia; upon which the Commanding Officer of those troops, suspecting they were not come so much out of curiosity to see the Review, as to debauch some of the soldiers into the King of Prussia’s service, sent them orders to retire. This being reported to his Prussian Majesty, he was much offended, and resolved to take some method to show his resentment, which he did as follows:--Last summer, an Austrian Captain, being in the Duchy of Mecklenburgh, met there with an old acquaintance, one Chapeau, who is in great favour with the King of Prussia. At that time, there was to be a great Review at Berlin, and as Berlin was in the Austrian’s road in his return to Vienna, Chapeau invited him to see the Review; but the Austrian replied, that he would willingly come, but was afraid of receiving some affront, in return for what had been done to the Prussian Officers the year before in Moravia; to which Chapeau replied, that if he would come to Berlin, he would undertake to get the King of Prussia’s special leave for him to be present at the Review. Encouraged by this, the Austrian came, and the night before the Review, Chapeau brought him word that the leave was granted, and he might come with all safety. He did accordingly come; but as soon as the King of Prussia had notice of his being there, he sent an Aide-de-camp to him to tell him to retire that moment, which he was forced to do, not without much indignation against Chapeau, who had drawn him into the scrape. The next morning he went to Chapeau, with an intention to demand satisfaction for the affront which, through him, he had received. Chapeau said he would do as he pleased, but first desired him to give him leave to speak for himself; which he did. Chapeau then told him, that immediately upon hearing that he had been sent out of the field in that strange manner, he had rode up to the King, and asked his Majesty whether he had not given him orders to tell the Austrian Officer that he might come to the Review with all security? and that the King had replied, it was very true, he had given such orders; because, if he had not, the Austrian would hardly have ventured to come to the Review; and if he had not come there, he (the King) should not have had an opportunity of revenging the affront that had been offered to some Officers of his own the year before in Moravia.

* * * * *

I must tell you a story of the King of Prussia’s regard for the law of nations. There was, some time ago, a Minister here from the Duke of Brunswick, whose name was Hoffman. He was a person of very good sense, and what we call well-intentioned, (which means being attached to the interests of the maritime powers and the House of Austria.) He was, besides, very active and dexterous in getting intelligence, which he constantly communicated to the Ministers of England and Austria. This the King of Prussia being well informed of, wrote a letter with his own hand to the Duke of Brunswick, to insist (and in case of refusal to threaten) that he should absolutely disavow Hoffman for his Minister. The Duke, who is the worthiest Prince upon earth, was so frightened with this letter, that he complied, though much against his will, with this haughty and cruel request. The moment the King of Prussia received this answer, he sent a party of Guards to Hoffman’s house, seized him, sent him prisoner to Madgeburgh, where he has now been for above four years chained to a wheel-barrow, and working at the fortifications of that town! He was very near doing the same by a Minister of the Margravine of Anspach’s, but that person got timely notice, and escaped out of Berlin in the morning; and when the King of Prussia’s Guards came to seize him at night, the bird had luckily flown.

There is at present here a Minister of the Duke of Brunswick, the successor of Hoffman, to whom, in his first audience, the King said, that he advised him to act very differently from his predecessor, and particularly to take care not to frequent those Foreign Ministers that he must know were disagreeable to him; for if he did, he might depend upon it he should deal with him in the same manner as he had done with Hoffman.

I think Hamlet says in the play, “Denmark is a prison;” the whole Prussian territory is so in the literal sense of the word. No man can, or does pretend to go out of it without the knowledge of the King and his Ministers. Very hard is the fate of those who have estates in other dominions besides those of his Prussian Majesty; he will neither permit them to sell their estates in his countries, nor live upon those they have out of them. The distresses which are come on the Silesians (who had estates also in Bohemia) are prodigious. Many people have given them up, or sold them for a trifle, to get out of this land of Egypt--this house of bondage. Six hundred dollars make just one hundred guineas, and I know the King of Prussia thinks that just as much as any of his subjects ought to have, exclusive of what he may give them. In a very few years, I am convinced that no subject of his that has not estates elsewhere will have more left him. But from what he has already done, he begins to find that it is no longer possible to collect the heavy taxes which he imposes on his subjects. I know that the revenues of all his countries, except Silesia, have diminished every year, for these last five years.

A Prussian will tell you, with a very grave face, that their present King is the most merciful Prince that ever reigned, and that he hates shedding blood. This is not true; there are often as cruel and tormenting executions in this country as ever were known under any Sicilian tyrant. ’Tis true, they are not done at Berlin, nor in the face of the world, but at Potsdam, in private. Since my arrival in this cursed country, an old woman was quartered alive at Potsdam, for having assisted two soldiers to desert. But his Prussian Majesty generally punishes offenders with close imprisonment and very hard labour, keeping them naked in the coldest weather, and giving them nothing, for years together, but bread and water. Such mercy is cruelty. Many persons destroy themselves here out of mere despair; but all imaginable care is taken to conceal such suicides. I have heard of one of our Governors in the Indies, who was reproached by his friends, on his return to England, that he put a great number of persons to death; to which that humane Governor replied, “It is not true; I only used them so ill, that they hanged themselves.” * * *

I.

(_Vide page 217._)

Deux Henris immolés par nos braves ayeux, L’un à la liberté, et Bourbon à nos Dieux, Te menacent, Louis, d’une pareille entreprise: Ils revivent en toi ces anciens tyrans: Crains notre désespoir: la noblesse a des Guises, Paris des Ravaillacs, le clergé des Cléments.

K.

(_Vide page 225._)

Though poetry was certainly neither a point of their rivalship, nor of their ambition, it may not be unwelcome to the curious to compare these great men even in their poetic capacities. The following sonnet was written by Sir R. Walpole when a very young man; the elegy, by Lord Bolingbroke, rather past his middle age. Had they climbed no mountain but Parnassus, it is obvious how far Lord Bolingbroke would have ascended above his competitor, since, when turned of fifty, he excelled in the province of youth.

TO THE HELIOTROPE.[257]

A SONG.

1.

Hail, pretty emblem of my fate! Sweet flower, you still on Phœbus wait; On him you look, and with him move, By nature led, and constant love.

2.

Know, pretty flower, that I am he, Who am in all so like to thee; I, too, my fair one court, and where She moves, my eyes I thither steer.

3.

But yet this difference still I find, The sun to you is always kind; Does always life and warmth bestow: --Ah! would my fair one use me so!

4.

Ne’er would I wait till she arose From her soft bed and sweet repose; But leaving thee, dull plant, by night I’d meet my Phillis with delight.

TO CLARA.[258]

BY HENRY, VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE.

Dear thoughtless Clara, to my verse attend, Believe for once the lover and the friend; Heav’n to each sex has various gifts assign’d, And shown an equal care of human kind. Strength does to man’s imperial race belong; To yours, that beauty which subdues the strong. But as our strength, when misapplied, is lost, And what should save, urges our ruin most; Just so, when beauty prostituted lies, Of b***s the prey, of rakes the abandon’d prize, Women no more their empire can maintain, Nor hope, vile slaves of lust, by love to reign; Superior charms but make their case the worse, When what was meant their blessing, proves their curse. O nymph! that might, reclin’d on Cupid’s breast, Like Psyche, soothe the God of Love to rest; Or if ambition move thee, Jove enthral, Brandish his thunder, and direct its fall; Survey thyself, contemplate ev’ry grace Of that sweet form, of that angelic face; Then, Clara, say, were those delicious charms Meant for lewd brothels and rude ruffians’ arms? No, Clara, no; that person and that mind Were form’d by nature, and by Heav’n design’d For nobler ends; to these return, though late; Return to these, and so redress thy fate. Think, Clara, think (nor may that thought be vain!) Thy slave, thy Harry, doom’d to drag his chain, Of love ill treated and abus’d, that he From more inglorious chains might rescue thee. Thy drooping health restor’d by his fond cares, Once more thy beauty its full lustre wears. Mov’d by his love, by his example taught, Soon shall thy soul, once more with virtue fraught, With kind and generous truth thy bosom warm, And thy fair mind, like thy fair person, charm. To virtue thus and to thyself restor’d, By all admir’d, by one alone ador’d, Be to thy Harry ever kind and true, And live for him who more than died for you.

(_Vide page 356._)

The reader will find a very ludicrous anecdote relating to Mr. Nugent, during his election at Bristol, in a letter from our Author to Richard Bentley, Esq., dated July 9th, 1754. It is printed in the publication of his correspondence with that gentleman, but we do not venture to insert it here.

END OF VOL. I.

T. C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covent-Garden.

FOOTNOTES:

[252] The Princess.

[253] Allen, Lord Bathurst.

[254] Sir George Lyttelton, who was out of favour with the Prince, made a parody on this copy of verses: two of the lines were,

No--’tis that all-consenting tongue, That never puts me in the wrong.

[255] “This is a strange country, this England” (said his Royal Highness once); “I am told Doddington is reckoned a clever man; yet I got 5000_l._ out of him this morning, and he has no chance of ever seeing it again.”

[256] His house is since called Brandenburgh House.

[257] I found this song in an old pocket-book belonging to my father, who wrote it, as he told me himself, when he was a very young man, on a sister of Sir William Carew.

[258] This was written on a common woman whom Lord Bolingbroke took into keeping, and who, many years afterwards, sold oranges in the Court of Requests.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example, Nova-Scotia, Nova Scotia; goodnature, good-nature; Lord-Lieutenant, Lord Lieutenant; se’nnight; disculpate; unapt; deficience; altercate; preponderated.

Pg xix: ‘acknowleged to have’ replaced by ‘acknowledged to have’. Pg 22: ‘he committed to’ replaced by ‘he was committed to’. Pg 25: ‘John Burnard--Factions’ replaced by ‘John Barnard--Factions’. Pg 37: ‘election at Weobly’ replaced by ‘election at Weobley’. Pg 68: ‘19.--The’ replaced by ‘19th.--The’. Pg 85: ‘3.--Palmer’ replaced by ‘3rd.--Palmer’. Pg 95: ‘to wordly success’ replaced by ‘to worldly success’. Pg 153: ‘worthy grammarians’ replaced by ‘worthy of grammarians’. Pg 190: ‘Holdernesse--Murray’ replaced by ‘Holderness--Murray’. Pg 204: ‘upon the recal’ replaced by ‘upon the recall’. Pg 256: ‘consume the propriety’ replaced by ‘consume the property’. Pg 280: ‘revenge offerred’ replaced by ‘revenge offered’. Pg 345: ‘2.--A ’ replaced by ‘2d.--A ’. Pg 383: ‘fidler, Nero’ replaced by ‘fiddler, Nero’. Pg 394: ‘the Mississipi’ replaced by ‘the Mississippi’. Pg 400: ‘as Aid-de-camp’ replaced by ‘as Aide-de-camp’. Pg 414: ‘all the coolurs’ replaced by ‘all the colours’. Pg 445: ‘being confidente of’ replaced by ‘being confidante of’.

Footnote [21]: ‘and and in 1745’ replaced by ‘and in 1745’. Footnote [30]: ‘Stafford in 1706’ replaced by ‘Stafford in 1786’. Footnote [48]: ‘been prefered to’ replaced by ‘been preferred to’. Footnote [98]: ‘been Aid-de-camp’ replaced by ‘been Aide-de-camp’.