Chapter 19

The duke made little stay at Paris, but proceeded to Rouen in his way, as some imagined, to England; but there he stopt, and took up his residence, without reflecting in the least on the business that brought him to France. He was so far from making any concession to the government in order to make his peace, that he did not give himself the least trouble about his personal estate, or any other concern in England. The duke had about 600 l. in his possession, when he arrived at Rouen, where more of his servants joined him from Spain. There he formed his houshold, and made a calculation, in which there appeared to be but one mistake, that is, he proportioned his expences, not according to his income, but quality; and though every argument was used to convince him of this error, at once so obvious and fatal, yet he would hearken to no admonition while he had one crown left.

At Rouen, as in every other place, the duke charmed all those who conversed with him; he was warmly received by persons of the first distinction in that province, with whom he took the diversion of hunting twice a week, 'till some news arrived, which would have given interruption to the mirth of any other man; but the alteration was scarce to be perceived in him.

This was a Bill of Indictment preferred against Philip duke of Wharton, for high treason. The fact laid to his charge was, appearing in arms before, and firing off cannon against, his Majesty's town of Gibraltar. Here we cannot omit an anecdote, from which the reader may draw what conclusion he pleases. During the time the proceedings against the duke were at a stand in the long vacation, a gentleman of character, intimately acquainted with the duke, and also with his affairs in England; one who enjoyed the sunshine of court favour, and was a Member of Parliament, went over to Rouen to visit his grace, in company with another gentleman. These two visitants took a great deal of pains to persuade him to submit to the government, and return to his estate, which they assured him he might do, by writing a letter to the King, or the ministry. This alone, without any other pretensions to favour, was to re-establish him, and leave him the free enjoyment of his estate, which, notwithstanding all the reductions, would even then have yielded 6000 l. a year. This point they sollicited incessantly, and their words of honour were given, to remove all scruples his grace might have about the performance of the conditions. Their interpositions were however in vain; he refused to submit to the ministry, or write to the King, and thought it beneath him to ask a favour.

This conduct of the duke may be imputed, by some, to pride and obstinacy, but a more natural construction is, that he was afraid of treachery. He could not discover upon what motives, two persons whom he looked upon as creatures of the court, would give themselves the trouble to come to Rouen, in order to persuade him to act for his own interest, unless they had some concealed views of such a nature, perhaps, as would prove fatal to him, should he submit.

He soon after this received advice from England, that his trustees could remit him no more of his annuity, on account of the indictment preferred against him. There was now a dreadful prospect before him; his money was wasted; all future supplies cut off; and there was a large family to support, without any hopes of relief. He began now to feel the effects of the indictment, which he before held in so much contempt; he complained of it as a rigorous proceeding, because it laid him under a necessity of asking a favour, and receiving it in a public manner, which he fancied neither consistent with his honour, or reputation. Thus exasperated against the government, he wrote the memorable paper which he contrived to get printed in Mist's Journal, under the colour of an account of Mirevais and Sultan Ezref, which contained severe reflexions on the administration. Mean time the duke's credit at Rouen began to sink; he was attended every morning with a considerable levee, consisting of the tradesmen of that city, who came with importunate faces to demand payment of their bills, which he discharged by quitting Rouen, leaving his horses and equipage to be sold, and the money to be divided among them. The duke, before this event, had thrown himself at the feet of the Chevalier de St. George, as the only possible resource he had left. Accordingly he wrote him a most moving letter, giving him a detail of his present sufferings, very pathetically representing the distress to which he was reduced, and humbly imploring his protection, with what little assistance might be necessary to enable him to support such a burthen of calamities, as he found otherwise too heavy to bear.

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The duke having now returned to Paris, made a considerable reformation in his houshold affairs, and placed himself in a private family, while the duchess went to a relation's at St. Germains. In the mean while the answer of the letter sent to Rome came in its proper time, in which his imprudent conduct was represented; but at the same time was touched with so light and delicate a hand, that it gave the duke but little uneasiness. No hopes were given him, that he should be gratified in his extravagancies, or flattered in his levities; on the contrary he was told, 'That as his past conduct had not merited any favour, nothing but his future behaviour could recommend him to it.' The duke had sufficient penetration to discover by this hint, that he was not likely to be abandoned, which was consolation enough to one of his sanguine temper, in the then desperate situation of his affairs.--The Chevalier de St. George soon after sent him 2000 l. for his support, of which he was no sooner in possession, than he squandered it away in a course of extravagance. In reality, money seemed to be such a burthen to him, that he bent all his thoughts to get rid of it as fast as possible; and he was as unwilling his companions should be troubled with it as himself. As a proof of this strange temper we shall quote one instance amongst many in the words of the writer of his life, which will serve to shew the heedless profusion of that unaccountable nobleman.

'A young Irish lord of the duke's acquaintance, of a sweet obliging and generous disposition, happening to be at St. Germains, at the time his grace was paying a visit to his lady; the duke came to him one night, with an air of business, and told his lordship that an affair of importance called him instantly to Paris, in which no time was to be lost, wherefore he begged the favour of his lordship's coach. The young nobleman lent it very readily, but as the duke was stepping into it, he added, that he should reckon it an additional obligation, if his lordship would give him, his company: As the duke was alone, the young lord either could not, or would not, refuse him. They went together for Paris, where they arrived about midnight. The duke's companion then supposing his grace's business might demand privacy, offered to leave him and come again, when it should be finished; but he assured his lordship it was not necessary; upon which they went upon the following frolic together. The first thing to be done, was to hire a coach and four horses; the next to find out the music belonging to the Opera, six or eight of which his grace engaged at a set price: The young lord could not imagine in what this would end; till they returned to St. Germains, which was at five the next morning when the duke marching directly with his troop to the castle, ordered them to strike upon the stairs. Then the plot broke out into execution, being no more than to serenade some young ladies, near whose apartments they then were.

'This piece of extravagant gallantry being over, the duke persuaded the young lord to go about a mile off, to Poissy, where an English gentleman 'of their acquaintance lived: His lordship consenting, the duke took with him a pair of trumpets, and a kettle-drum, to give the music a more martial air: But to this the Opera music made an objection at first, because as they should be wanted that night in their posts, they should forfeit half a louis d' or each, for non-appearance. Half a louis d' or! says his grace, follow the duke of Wharton, and all your forfeitures shall be paid. They did so, and entered Poissy in such a musical manner, that they alarmed the whole town, and their friend did not know whether he had best keep his house, or fly for it; but the affair was soon explained, and the musical troop was entertained by the gentleman their friend, in a very handsome manner. This frolic being now finished, there was one thing more absolutely necessary, viz. to discharge the reckoning, upon which occasion the duke in a very laconic manner addressed himself to the young lord.' My lord, says he, 'I have not one livre in my pocket, wherefore I must desire you to pay these fellows, and I'll do as much for you whenever I am able. Upon this his lordship with great chearfulness, paid all demands, amounting to 25 louis d' ors.'

It may seem a strange observation, but it is certainly true, that the brute creation differs not more from the rational in many respects, than a man from himself: That by suffering passions to usurp the dominion of the soul, human nature is stript of its dignity, debased to the beasts that perish, and still rendered more ignominious by the complications of guilt. We have already seen the duke of Wharton set up as the idol of an admiring people; an august senate listened to the enchantments of his eloquence; a powerful ministry dreading his resolutions; he was courted, flattered, feared; and obeyed. View him now, and the scene is shifted. Observe him descending to the most abject trifling, stooping to the meanest expedients, and the orator and statesman transformed to the vagabond and the wanderer.

No incident in this nobleman's life has been represented more to his disadvantage, and is in itself more interesting than the following. The account which is here inserted was sent to a friend by the duke's express order.

A Scots peer with whom both the duke, and the duchess lived in great intimacy in Italy, happening to come to Paris, when the duke was there, they renewed their acquaintance and friendship, and for some time continued with mutual freedom, till the duke had reason to believe from what he heard from others, that the peer had boasted favours from the duchess of Wharton.

This instance of wanton vanity, the duke could not help resenting, though he often declared since the quarrel, that he never had the least suspicion of the duchess's honour. He resolved therefore very prudently to call the Scots lord to an account, without letting him know it was for the duchess or so much as mentioning her name; accordingly he took occasion to do it in this manner.

It happened that the duke of Wharton and his lordship met at a lady's whom they mutually visited, and the duke dropping his glove by chance, his lordship took it up, and returned it to the duke; who thereupon asked him if he would take it up in all it's forms? To which his lordship answered, yes, my lord, in all its forms.

Some days after, the duke gave a ball at St. Germains, to which he invited the Scots nobleman, and some person indiscretely asked his grace whether he had forbid the duchess's dancing with lord C----. This gave the duke fresh reason to believe that the Scots peer had been administring new grounds for his resentment, by the wantonness of calumny. He dissembled his uneasiness for the present, and very politely entertained the company till five o'clock in the morning, when he went away without the ceremony of taking leave; and the next news that was heard of him was from Paris, from whence he sent a challenge to lord C----d, to follow him to Flanders.

The challenge was delivered by his servant, and was to this effect: 'That his lordship might remember his saying he took up his glove in all its forms, which upon mature reflexion, his grace looked upon to be such an affront, as was not to be born, wherefore he desired his lordship to meet him at Valenciennes, where he would expect him with a friend and a pair of pistols; and on failure of his lordship's coming his grace would post him, &c.

The servant who delivered the letter, did not keep its contents a secret; and lord C----d was taken into custody, when he was about setting out to meet his grace. All that remained then for his lordship to do, was to send a gentleman into Flanders, to acquaint the duke with what happened to him. His grace upon seeing the gentleman, imagining him to be his lordship's second, spoke to him in this manner; 'Sir, I hope my lord will favour me so far as to let us use pistols, because the wound I received in my foot before Gibraltar, in some measure disables me from the sword.' Hereupon the gentleman replied with some emotion, 'My lord duke, you might chuse what you please; my lord C----d will fight you with any weapon, from a small pin to a great cannon; but this is not the case, my lord is under an arrest, by order of the duke of Berwick.'

His grace being thus disappointed in the duel, and his money being almost spent, he returned to Paris, and was also put under an arrest till the affair was made up by the interposition of the duke of Berwick, under whose cognizance it properly came as Marshal of France.

The duke's behaviour on this occasion, so far from being reproachable, seems to be the most manly action of his whole life. What man of spirit would not resent the behaviour of another, who should boast of favours from his wife, especially when in all probability he never received any?

His grace's conducting the quarrel, so as to save the reputation of his duchess, by not so much as having her name called in question, was at once prudent, and tender; for whether a lady is guilty or no, if the least suspicion is once raised, there are detractors enough in the world ready to fix the stain upon her. The Scots lord deserved the severest treatment, for living in strict friendship with two persons of quality, and then with an insidious cruelty endeavouring to sow the seeds of eternal discord between them, and all to gratify a little vanity: Than such a conduct nothing can be more reproachable.

Not long after this adventure, a whim seized the duke of going into a convent, in order to prepare for Easter; and while he was there, he talked with so much force and energy upon all points of religion, that the pious fathers beheld him with admiration. Mankind were for some time in suspense, what would be the issue of this new course of life; but he soon put an end to their speculations by appearing again in the world, and running headlong into as wild courses of vice and extravagance, as he had ever before done. He had for a companion, a gentleman for whom he entertained a very high esteem; but one who was as much an enemy as possible to such a licentious behaviour. In another situation, our noble author would have found it a happiness to be constantly attended by a person of his honour, probity, and good sense; but the duke's strange and unaccountable conduct, rendered the best endeavours to serve him ineffectual. In a letter which that gentleman wrote to a friend in London, he concludes with a melancholy representation of the duke's present circumstances;

----'However, notwithstanding what I have suffered, and what my brother 'madman' has done to undo himself, and every body who was so unlucky as to have the least concern with him, I could not help being sensibly moved on so extraordinary a vicissitude of fortune, to see a great man fallen from that shining light, in which I have beheld him in the house of lords, to such a degree of obscurity, that I have beheld the meanest commoner here decline his company; and the Jew he would sometimes fasten on, grow tired of it, for you know he is a bad orator in his cups, and of late he has been seldom sober. A week before he left Paris, he was so reduced, that he had not one single crown at command, and was forced to thrust in with any acquaintance for a lodging: Walsh and I have had him by turns, all to avoid a crowd of duns, which he had of all sizes, from 1400 livres to 4, who hunted him so close, that he was forced to retire to some of the neighbouring villages for safety. I, sick as I was, hurried about Paris to get him money, and to St. Germains to get him linen. I bought him one shirt and a cravat, which, with 500 livres, his whole stock, he and his duchess, attended by one servant, set out for Spain. All the news I have heard of him since, is, that a day or two after he sent for captain Brierly, and two or three of his domestics to follow him; but none but the captain obeyed the summons. Where they are now I cannot tell, but I fear they must be in great distress by this time, if he has had no other supplies; and so ends my melancholy story.'

In this deplorable situation did the duke leave Paris, an instance indeed of the strange reverse of fortune, but for which he could not blame the severity of providence, or the persecution of enemies, but his own unbounded profusion, a slave to which he seems to have been born. As a long journey did not very well suit with his grace's finances, so he went for Orleans, thence fell down the river Loire to Nantz in Britany, and there he stopt some time 'till he got a remittance from Paris, which was squandered almost as soon as received. At Nantz some of his ragged servants rejoined him, and from thence he took shipping with them from Bilboa, as if he had been carrying recruits to the Spanish regiment. From Bilboa he wrote a humorous letter to a friend at Paris, such as his fancy, not his circumstances, dictated, giving a whimsical account of his voyage, and his manner of passing away his time. But at the end, as if he had been a little affected with his late misconduct, he concludes thus, 'notwithstanding what the world may say of me,

'Be kind to my remains, and O! defend, Against your judgment, your departed friend[A].'

When the duke arrived at Bilboa, he had neither friends, money, nor credit, more than what the reputation of his Spanish commission procured him. Upon the strength of that he left his duchess and servant there, and went to his regiment, where he was obliged to support himself upon the pay of 18 pistoles a month, but could get no relief for the poor lady and family he left behind him. The distress of the duchess was inexpressible, nor is it easy to conceive what would have been the consequence, if her unhappy circumstances had not reached the ear of another exiled nobleman at Madrid, who could not hear of her sufferings without relieving her. This generous exile, touched with her calamities, sent her a hundred Spanish pistoles, which relieved her grace from a kind of captivity, and enabled her to come to Madrid, where she lived with her mother and grandmother, while the duke attended his regiment. Not long after this, the duke's family had a great loss in the death of his lady's mother, by which they were deprived of a pension they before enjoyed from the crown of Spain; but this was fortunately repaired by the interest of a nobleman at court, who procured the duchess's two sisters to be minuted down for Maids of Honour to the Queen of Spain, whenever a vacancy should happen, but to enter immediately upon the salary of these places. Her Majesty likewise took the duchess to attend her person.

There have been many instances of people, who have sustained the greatest shocks which adversity can inflict, through a whole life of suffering, and yet at last have yielded to the influence of a trifling evil: something like this was the case of the duke of Wharton, which the following story will illustrate.

He was in garrison at Barcelona, and coming from a ball one night, in company with some ladies, a man in a masque, whom he did not know, was guilty of some rudeness to him. The duke enquired who he was, and being informed that he was valet de chambre to the marquis de Risbourg, governour of Catalonia, he suffered himself to be transported by the first motions of his passion, and caned him. The fellow complained of this usage to his master, who at first took no notice of it, imagining his grace would make some excuse to him for such a procedure, but whether the duke thought it beneath his quality to make any apology for beating a menial servant, who had been rude to him, or would not do it upon another account, he spoke not a word about it. The marquis resenting this behaviour, two days after ordered the duke to prison. He obeyed, and went to Fort Montjuich: as soon as he arrived there, the marquis sent him word, he might come out when he pleased; the duke answered, he scorned to accept liberty at his hands, and would not stir without an order from the court, imagining they would highly condemn the governour's conduct; but the marquis had too much credit with the minister, to suffer any diminution of his power on that account; he received only a sharp rebuke, and the duke had orders to repair to his quarters, without entering again into Barcelona. This last mortification renewed the remembrance of all his misfortunes; he sunk beneath this accident, and giving way to melancholy, fell into a deep consumption. Had the duke maintained his usual spirit, he would probably have challenged the marquis, and revenged the affront of the servant upon the master, who had made the quarrel his own, by resenting the valet's deserved correction.

About the beginning of the year 1731 he declined so fast, being in his quarters, at Lerida, that he had not the use of his limbs, so as to move without assistance; but as he was free from pain, he did not lose all his gaiety. He continued in this ill state of health for two months, when he gained a little strength, and found some benefit from a certain mineral water in the mountains of Catalonia; but his constitution was too much spent to recover the shocks it had received. He relapsed the May following at Terragana, whither he removed with his regiment; and going to the above mentioned waters, the benefit whereof he had already experienced, he fell into one of those fainting fits, to which he had for some time been subject, in a small village, and was utterly destitute of all the necessaries of life, 'till some charitable fathers of a Bernardine convent, offered him what assistance their house afforded. The duke accepted their kind proposal, upon which they removed him to their convent, and administered all the relief in their power. Under this hospitable roof, after languishing a week, died the duke of Wharton, without one friend, or acquaintance to close his eyes. His funeral was performed in the same manner in which the fathers inter those of their own fraternity.

Thus we have endeavoured to exhibit an adequate picture of the duke of Wharton, a man whose life was as strongly chequered with the vicissitudes of fortune, as his abilities were various and astonishing. He is an instance of the great imbecility of intellectual powers, when once they spurn the dictates of prudence, and the maxims of life. With all the lustre of his understanding, when his fortune was wasted, and his circumstances low, he fell into contempt; they who formerly worshipped him, fled from him, and despised his wit when attended with poverty. So true is it that,

Want is the scorn of every wealthy fool, And wit in rags is turn'd to ridicule.