"No. XLV"
Lord Bute, to support his policy, had founded two newspapers, "The
Auditor," and, under the editorship of Smollett, "The Briton," and these
inspired John Wilkes, member of Parliament for Aylesbury, to set up, as
a weapon for the Opposition, "The North Briton," the onslaughts in which
were so ferocious that "The Auditor" on February 8, 1763, and "The
Briton", four days later, died of sheer fright. Wilkes and Charles
Churchill,[249] the most valuable contributor to "The North Briton," did
indeed fight with the buttons off the foils, and, while other papers
still retained the custom of referring to persons by their initials,
they disdained this foolish method, and gave their enemies the poor
comfort of seeing their names in the full glory of print.
[249] Charles Churchill (1731-1764), author of "The Rosciad" and other
satires.
When Bute resigned, No. xliv of "The North Briton" had appeared, and the
next issue was in preparation. Wilkes, on hearing this important
intelligence, delayed the publication to see if George Grenville,[250]
the new Prime Minister, would offer a new policy, or follow in the
footsteps of his late leader. Pitt and Lord Temple showed Wilkes an
early copy of the King's Speech, and, learning from this that no change
would take place, the latter proceeded with the composition of the since
historic No. xlv. The King's Speech was read on April 19, 1763, and on
April 23 appeared the famous sheet, wherein the terms of the peace, the
Cyder tax, and other acts of the Ministry were attacked, and the Address
was stigmatised as "the most abandoned instance of ministerial
effrontery ever attempted to be imposed upon mankind." In the paper it
was stated very clearly that the King's Speech was always regarded, not
as the personal address of the sovereign, but as the utterance of
ministers. "Every friend of his country," said "The North Briton,"
"must lament that a prince of so many great and amiable qualities, whom
England truly reveres, can be brought to give the sanction of his sacred
name to the most odious measures and to the most unjustifiable
declarations from a throne ever renowned for truth, honour and unsullied
virtue."
[250] Grenville, speaking in the House of Commons, on the Cyder Tax,
explained that the bill was brought in because funds must be found, and
turned to Pitt who had been speaking against the measure. "I call upon
the honourable gentleman opposite to me to say _where_ they would wish
to have a tax laid? I say, Sir, let them tell me _where_! I repeat it,
Sir! I am entitled to say to them--_tell me where?_" Thereupon Pitt,
mimicking the monotonous tones of the speaker, murmured audibly in the
words of the then popular ballad: "Gentle Shepherd, tell me where." The
House roared with laughter, and the nickname "Gentle Shepherd" clung to
Grenville for life.
This attack on ministers was not more violent than others that had
appeared in earlier issues of the same paper, but the adherents of Bute,
whom Wilkes had taken an active part in ousting from the Ministry, now
saw an opportunity to avenge their fallen leader. The severe criticism
of his speech made the King furious, and on the principle of "_L'etat,
c'est moi_," he disregarded the distinction that Wilkes had so carefully
drawn between the utterances of the monarch and the utterances of
ministers in the monarch's name, and encouraged, if, indeed, he did not
instigate, a prosecution. The Secretary of State, Lord Halifax, issued a
general warrant, that is, a warrant which specified neither the name nor
names nor described the person nor persons of the offender or offenders,
but only gave instructions "to make a strict and diligent search for the
authors, printers and publishers of a seditious and treasonable paper
entitled 'The North Briton,' No. xlv, Saturday, April 23, 1763, printed
for G. Kearsley, in Ludgate Street, London, and them, or any of them,
having found, to apprehend and seize, together with their papers, etc."
The printer and publisher were at once arrested, and, when brought
before Halifax and Egremont, gave the names of the authors as John
Wilkes and Charles Churchill. The warrant was shown to Wilkes at his
house in Great George Street on the night of April 29, but he declined
then to comply with it, stating his objection to a general warrant as
such, pointing out that his name was not mentioned, that he was a Member
of Parliament, and concluded by threatening the first who should offer
violence to him in his own house at that hour of the night; but when the
officers returned in the morning he offered no further opposition. Just
after he was arrested and before he had been removed from his house,
Churchill walked into the room, where were Wilkes and his captors.
Wilkes knew the messengers wanted also to arrest Churchill, and
observing they did not know the poet by sight, before the latter could
speak, with great presence of mind, said, "Good morning, Mr. Thomson.
How is Mrs. Thomson to-day? _Does she dine in the country?_" Churchhill
took the hint, said Mrs. Thomson was waiting for him, left the room, and
fled from the metropolis.
Wilkes's papers were seized, and he was taken before the Secretaries of
State, and by them, after he had asserted his privileges as a Member of
Parliament and had refused to answer any questions, was committed a
prisoner to the Tower. Such were the preliminaries of the great battle
that made Wilkes a great and popular figure in the struggle for the
liberty of the subject and the liberty of the press in England.
Wilkes's friends moved at once for a writ of _habeas corpus_, and after
some delay, on May 6, the prisoner was produced before Chief-Justice
Pratt[251] in the Court of King's Bench, when counsel applied for his
discharge on the ground that the commitment was not valid. The Judge
gave his decision in favour of Wilkes, declaring that general warrants
were illegal, and that, anyhow, the charge against the accused was not
sufficient to destroy his privileges as a Member of Parliament.
[251] Sir Charles Pratt, afterwards first Earl Camden, 1714-1794.
Wilkes was no sooner at liberty than he showed he was not a man who
could be maltreated with impunity. He republished the numbers of "The
North Briton" in a volume with notes, reasserting that the King's Speech
could only be regarded as a ministerial pronouncement. He addressed to
Lord Halifax and Lord Egremont an open letter, of which many thousand
copies were distributed throughout the country, complaining that his
home had been robbed, and that he was informed that "the stolen goods
are in possession of one or both of your Lordships." His papers were not
returned, and he brought an action against Robert Wood, the
Under-Secretary of State, against whom he received a verdict giving
L1,000 damages, and another action against Lord Halifax for unlawful
seizure, from whom also, after many years' delay, he recovered heavy
damages. In the meantime Lord Egremont had written to Lord Temple that
the King desired the latter, as Lord-Lieutenant of the county, to inform
Wilkes that he was dismissed from the Colonelcy of the Buckinghamshire
Militia, which task Temple duly discharged, saying, "I cannot, at the
same time, help expressing the concern I feel in the loss of an officer,
by his deportment in command, endeared to the whole corps." As a
punishment for this expression of sympathy, the King removed Lord Temple
from the Lord-Lieutenancy, and with his own hand struck his name out of
the Council books.
"To honour virtue in the Lord of Stowe,
The pow'r of courtiers can no further go;
Forbid him Court, from Council blot his name,
E'en these distinctions cannot rase his fame.
Friend to the liberties of England's state,
'Tis not to Courts he looks to make him great;
He to his much lov'd country trusts his cause,
And dares assert the honour of her laws."[252]
[252] _The New Foundling Hospital for Wit._
The ministers in this struggle had found a powerful ally in Hogarth,
who, though he had been friendly with Wilkes and Churchill, had been
high in Bute's favour, even before the accession of George III, and now
saw an opportunity to repay his patron. The quarrel between the painter
and the agitator had begun with Hogarth's political cartoon, "The
Times," in which Wilkes was ignominiously portrayed; and Wilkes, who let
no man attack him with impunity, had replied in "The North Briton" with
a violent onslaught upon the caricaturist. When Wilkes appeared in the
Court of King's Bench, Hogarth, it is said, from behind a screen made a
sketch for a caricature of the accused, in which the latter's squint was
most malignantly exaggerated. Wilkes took this in good part, and,
indeed, in later days said jocularly that he found himself every day
growing more and more like the unflattering portrait; but Churchill, who
was devoted to his friend, replied in "An Epistle to William Hogarth,"
in which--after the model furnished by Pope in his immortal reprimand to
Addison--while praising Hogarth's genius, he poured vitriolic scorn
upon his vanity and other weaknesses, concluding with a tremendous
indictment of the painter's supposed dotage.
"Sure, 'tis a curse which angry fates impose,
To mortify man's arrogance, that those
Who're fashioned of some better sort of clay,
Much sooner than the common herd decay.
What bitter pangs must humbl'd Genius feel
In their last hours to view a Swift and Steele!
How must ill-boding horrors fill her breast,
When she beholds men mark'd above the rest
For qualities most dear, plunged from that height,
And sunk, deep sunk, in second-childhood's night!
Are men, indeed, such things? and are the best
More subject to this evil than the rest?
To drivel out whole years of idiot breath,
And set the monuments of living death?
Oh, galling circumstance to human pride!
Abasing thought, but not to be denied!
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought,
Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
Constant attention wears the active mind,
Blots out her powers, and leaves a blank behind.
But let not youth, to insolence allied,
In heat of blood, in full career of pride,
Possess'd of genius, with unhallow'd rage
Mock the infirmities of reverend age;
The greatest genius to this fate may bow;
Reynolds, in time, may be like Hogarth now."
Hogarth replied to the "Epistle" by a savage caricature of Churchill,
entitled, "The Bruiser, C. Churchill (once the Reverend!) in the
character of a Russian Hercules, regaling himself after having killed
the monster _Caricatura_, that so sorely-galled his _virtuous_ friend,
the Heaven-born Wilkes." The poet is portrayed as a bear, with torn
clerical bands and ruffles, seated upon Massinger's "A New Way to Pay
Old Debts," and "A List of the Subscribers to 'The North Briton,'" etc.,
one arm holding a quart pot, and the other round a massive club, on
which the knots are inscribed "Lye 1," "Lye 3," "Lye 5," "Lye 8,"
"Fallacy," etc.
[Illustration: _A caricature of C. Churchill by Wm. Hogarth_
THE BRUISER]
Ministers, having been defeated on a point of law, were now determined
to ruin Wilkes,[253] and proceeded, so far as lay in their power, to
damn his reputation for all time, although, as will be seen, the method
adopted did not have the desired effect.
[253] "The destruction of one man has been for many years the sole
object of your government."--Junius, December 19, 1769.
That Wilkes was a man of high moral character, as some few of his
eulogists have endeavoured to sustain, is a theory incapable of
acceptance, though perhaps his lack of principle in early days has been
more severely castigated than it deserved, considering that morality is,
after all, comparative, and that a dragon of virtue in the days that
were earlier would now be looked upon as a monster of iniquity. The son
of a rich merchant, Wilkes was educated in England and at Leyden, and on
his return to England at the age of two-and-twenty, had been persuaded
by his father to espouse a wealthy woman ten years his senior. Not
unnaturally the marriage was unhappy, and, indeed, Wilkes never even
professed to regard it except as a convenience, but notwithstanding this
circumstance his behaviour to his wife leaves the deepest stain on his
character. He squandered her money in debauchery, and, after they had
separated, endeavoured to deprive her of an annuity of L200 a year, all
she had kept of her estates. He was initiated by Sir Francis Dashwood
into the brotherhood of Medmenham Abbey, where he fraternised with Lord
Sandwich,[254] Thomas Potter,[255] and other men of fashion, and with
them proceeded to outrage all canons of decency.[256] In connexion with
the brotherhood Potter and Wilkes in collaboration composed an obscene
parody of Pope's "Essay on Man" called "An Essay on Woman," which, in
imitation of the original poem, was furnished with notes under the name
of Bishop Warburton; and to the burlesque was attached a blasphemous
paraphrase of _Veni Creator_.
[254] John Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich (1718-1792).
[255] Thomas Potter (1718-1759), son of John Potter, Archbishop of
Canterbury.
[256] It is said that demon worship and mock celebrations of the rites
peculiar to monastic orders were the most reputable of the ceremonies.
Over the principal entrance to the Abbey Sir Francis Dashwood had placed
the motto from Rabelais' Abbey of Theleme, "_Fay ce que voudras_."
"Dashwood shall pour from a Communion cup
Libations to the Goddess without eyes,
And hob and nob in cyder and excise."
Churchill: _The Candidate_.
Without setting up any defence of these compositions, it may in
extenuation be said that the circulation was limited to twelve or
thirteen copies, which were distributed among members of the club, that
it was printed at Wilkes's house, and that the latter took the greatest
care to prevent the workmen from carrying away any sheets. Disgraceful
as the amusement was, at least it could be pleaded it had no evil effect
upon the circle of vicious men who inspired it; but it gave the
Government a handle against their uncompromising foe of which they were
not slow to take advantage.
In spite of all precautions, one of the printers had stolen some sheets
of the "Essay on Woman" and this fact, which came to the knowledge of
John Kidgell, then chaplain to the Earl of March, was by him imparted to
a minister, who incited the clergyman to publish a pamphlet giving an
account of Potter and Wilkes's _jeu d'esprit_. This in itself was an
unworthy proceeding, but a greater folly threw this into the shade,
for, when it was decided to bring to the notice of Parliament the stolen
copy of the "Essay," the person chosen to raise the matter in the House
of Lords was Lord Sandwich, than whom, Mr. Justin McCarthy has rightly
said, "no meaner, more malignant, or more repulsive figure darkens the
record of the last century."[257] This was a bad blunder, for Sandwich,
as a member of the Franciscan brotherhood at Medmenham, had received a
copy of the production, had read it with amusement, and had expressed
his approval; and, even apart from this, was notorious for profligacy
even among his immoral associates--rumour has it he was expelled for
blasphemy from the Beefsteak Society, and Horace Walpole has stated that
"very lately, at a club with Mr. Wilkes, held at the top of the
play-house in Drury Lane, Lord Sandwich talked so profanely that he
drove two harlequins out of the company."[258]
"Hear him but talk, and you would swear
Obscenity itself were there,
And that Profaneness had made choice,
By way of trump, to use his voice;
That, in all mean and low things great,
He had been bred at Billingsgate;
And that, ascending to the earth
Before the season of his birth,
Blasphemy, making way and room,
Had mark'd him in his mother's womb."[259]
[257] _History of the Four Georges._
[258] Walpole: _Memoirs of George III_.
[259] Churchill: _The Duellist_.
At the moment, to make bad worse, it was known that Sandwich had some
personal animus against Wilkes, arising out of a quarrel at an orgy at
which Sandwich when very drunk had invoked the devil, and Wilkes had
thereupon let loose a monkey and nearly scared his fellow reprobate out
of his wits. What the public thought of the part Sandwich took in this
affair was not long afterwards made manifest at a performance at Covent
Garden Theatre of "The Beggar's Opera," when, in the third act, Macheath
exclaims, "That Jemmy Twitcher should peach me I own surprised me. 'Tis
a proof that the world is all alike, and that even our gang can no more
trust each other than other people," there were cries from all parts of
the house of "Jemmy Twitcher! Jemmy Twitcher!" and for the rest of his
life by that sobriquet was Sandwich known, even, as Horace Walpole says,
to the disuse of his own name.
"Extremes in nature prove the same,
The profligate is dead to shame,
No conscious pangs ensue;
Satire can't wound the virtuous heart,
Nor _Savile_ fell her venom'd dart,
No more, my lord, than you.
"To peach the accomplice of one's crimes,
A gracious pardon gains sometimes,
When treachery recommends;
For you, my lord, is clearly seen,
For close the sacred tie between
King's evidence and friends."[260]
[260] _Lines addressed to the Earl of Sandwich._
Parliament met on November 15, 1763; and Lord Sandwich, before the
Address was taken into consideration, placed on the table the "Essay on
Woman," and denounced it as a "most blasphemous, obscene, and abominable
libel," in a speech which drew from Lord le Despencer the remark that
never before had he heard the devil preach. Bishop Warburton's language
on this occasion was, perhaps, such as no divine has ever before or
since employed in public--"the blackest fiends in Hell would not keep
company with Wilkes," he declared, and then apologised to Satan for
comparing them. This intemperance of attack coupled with the underhand
methods employed by the Ministry, brought forth a remonstrance from
Pitt; while later Churchill avenged Wilkes by some lines of terrible
ferocity on the Bishop:
"He drank with drunkards, lived with sinners,
Herded with infidels for dinners;
With such an emphasis and grace
Blasphemed, that Potter kept not pace:
He, in the highest reign of noon,
Bawled bawdy songs to a Psalm tune;
Lived with men infamous and vile,
Truck'd his salvation for a smile;
To catch their humour caught their plan,
And laughed at God to laugh with man;
Praised them, when living, in each breath,
And damn'd their memories after death."[261]
[261] _The Duellist._
The House of Lords voted the "Essay" a breach of privilege, a
"scandalous, obscene and impious libel," and presented an address to the
King demanding the prosecution of the author for blasphemy; while at the
same time the House of Commons declared No. xlv of "The North Briton" to
be a "false, scandalous, and seditious libel," and ordered the paper to
be burnt by the common hangman. In the debate in the lower house, Samuel
Martin, an ex-Secretary of the Treasury, who had been denounced in "The
North Briton" as a "low fellow and a dirty tool of power," took the
opportunity to denounce Wilkes as a cowardly, scandalous, and malignant
scoundrel, and immediately afterwards challenged him to a duel, in which
the latter was severely wounded. Wilkes, although the challenged person,
had generously allowed his assailant the choice of weapons, and Martin
selected pistols. Subsequently, however, it became known that, since
the insult appeared in "The North Briton" eight months earlier, he had
regularly practised shooting at a target, whereupon Churchill took the
not unnatural view that Martin was, to all intents and purposes, a
would-be assassin.
"But should some villain, in support
And zeal for a despairing Court,
Placing in craft his confidence,
And making honour a pretence
To do a deed of deepest shame,
Whilst filthy lucre is his aim;
Should such a wretch, with sword or knife,
Contrive to practise 'gainst the life
Of one who, honour'd through the land,
For Freedom made a glorious stand;
Whose chief, perhaps his only crime,
Is (if plain Truth at such a Time
May dare her sentiments to tell)
That he his country loves too well;
May he--but words are all too weak
The feelings of my heart to speak--
May he--oh, for a noble curse,
Which might his very marrow pierce!--
The general contempt engage,
And be the Martin of his age!"[262]
[262] _The Duellist._
Though Wilkes was confined to his house by his wound, ministers, in
spite of his petition that no further steps should be taken before his
recovery, pressed forward their measures against him. During the
Christmas recess Wilkes became convalescent and went to France, from
whence, when Parliament reassembled, he sent a medical certificate
stating he was unable to travel without endangering his health; but his
enemies declared, and perhaps some of his friends secretly believed,
that this was a subterfuge, and that in reality the reason for his
continued absence was because he dared not face the trials for libel and
blasphemy. On January 19, 1764, Wilkes was expelled from the House of
Commons for having written a scandalous and seditious libel; and on
February 21 the Court of King's Bench found him guilty of having
reprinted "No. XLV" and of printing the "Essay on Woman," and, as he did
not appear to receive sentence, outlawed him for contumacy.
Ministers now congratulated themselves upon having got rid of their
dangerous opponent, but, as a matter of fact, they had only driven him
away, which was a very different thing, for in his absence he, standing
as the persecuted champion of liberty, was a very potent factor in
affairs. Lord Temple paid the greater part of Wilkes's law expenses,
and, subsequently, the Rockingham Whigs made the outlaw an allowance of
L1,000 a year. Wilkes's popularity was, indeed, immense. When on
December 3, "No. XLV" was to be burnt at the Royal Exchange, a great mob
collected, and showed so threatening a spirit that Harley, one of the
sheriffs, went to consult the Lord Mayor as to what steps should be
taken to avert danger, and the hangman followed in his wake. The
partly-burnt copy of "The North Briton" was rescued by the crowd,
carried off in triumph, and displayed in the evening at Temple Bar,
where a bonfire was made into the midst of which, amidst great cheering,
a huge jack-boot was thrown. Chief Justice Pratt was rewarded for his
impartial judgment with the freedom of the cities of London and Dublin;
and all adherents of Wilkes became popular personages. Astute tradesmen
disposed easily of inferior goods by marking them "45," and the turmoil
created by this affair penetrated even the recesses of the Court, with
the result that some years later the young Prince of Wales, when he had
been punished, avenged himself by crying in his father's presence
"Wilkes and No. XLV for ever!"
Kearsley, the publisher of "The North Briton" was discharged by the
Court on his own recognizances; but in 1765 Williams, who had re-issued
"No. XLV" was fined L100, ordered to stand in the pillory in Old Palace
Yard for an hour on March 1, and to give security in the sum of L1,000
for his good behaviour for seven years. This was an opportunity that
gave Wilkes's supporters a chance to display their feelings. Williams
was taken in a triumphant procession in a hackney-coach numbered
forty-five and brought back in the same way; while he stood in the
pillory a collection was made, and L200 subscribed for him; and close by
were erected four ladders, with cords running from each other, on which
were displayed a jack-boot, an axe, and a Scotch bonnet, to testify to
the prevalent belief that the moving spirit of the prosecution was Lord
Bute.
"THE PILLORY TRIUMPHANT, or, NO. 45 FOR EVER.
"Ye sons of Wilkes and Liberty,
Who hate despotic sway,
The glorious forty-five now crowns
This remarkable day.
And to New Palace Yard let us go, let us go.
"An injured martyr to her cause
Undaunted meets his doom:
Ah! who like me don't wish to see
Some great ones in his room?
Then to New Palace Yard let us go, let us go.
"Behold the laurel, fresh and green,
Attract all loyal eyes;
The haughty thistle droops his head,
Is blasted, stinks, and dies.
Then to New Palace Yard let us go, let us go.
"High mounted on the gibbet view
The _Boot_ and _Bonnet's_ fate;
But where's the _Petticoat_, my lads?
The _Boot_ should have its mate.
Then to New Palace Yard let us go, let us go.
* * * * *
"In vain the galling _Scottish yoke_
Shall strive to make us bend;
_Our_ monarch is a Briton born,
And will our rights defend.
Then to New Palace Yard let us go, let us go.
"For ages still might England stand,
In spite of Stuart arts,
Would Heaven send us men to rule
With better heads and hearts.
Then to New Palace Yard let us go, let us go."
For a while, engaged in an amorous adventure, Wilkes remained at Paris,
but in 1767 he issued a pamphlet explaining his position, and just
before the general election of March, 1768, he reappeared in London[263]
and offered himself as a candidate for the parliamentary representation
of the City, thus presenting the very strange spectacle, as Lecky puts
it, "of a penniless adventurer of notoriously infamous character, and
lying at this very time under a sentence of outlawry, and under a
condemnation for blasphemy and libel, standing against a popular
alderman in the metropolis of England."[264] In spite of his late
appearance upon the scene, Wilkes polled 1,200 votes; and, thus
encouraged, and supported by Lord Temple, who furnished the necessary
freehold qualification, the Duke of Portland, and Horne Tooke, he stood
for the county of Middlesex, and was elected by 1,290 votes against 827
of the Tory George Cooke and 807 of the Whig, Sir William Procter.
[263] It has been said that Wilkes had to leave Paris hastily, a _letter
de cachet_ having been signed to lodge him in the Bastille, probably as
the supposed author of "The Origin of Despotism." This supposition is,
however, a direct contradiction of a statement in _Walpoliana_
attributed to Horace Walpole. "Depend upon it that Wilkes was in the pay
of France, during the Wilkes and Liberty days. Calling one day on the
French minister, I observed a book on his table, with Wilkes's name in
the first page. This led to a conversation, which convinced me. Other
circumstances, too long and minute to be repeated, strengthened, if
necessary, that conviction. I am as sure of it, as of any fact I know.
Wilkes at first cringed to Lord Bute. The embassy to Constantinople was
the object of his ambition. It was refused, and you know what followed."
[264] _History of England in the Eighteenth Century._
As Wilkes had received no reply to his petition for a pardon addressed
to the King, he, according to the undertaking he had given, surrendered
himself on the first day of term, April 20, before Lord Mansfield in the
Court of King's Bench. The proceedings dragged on until June 8, when,
his outlawry having been annulled, he was sentenced for republication of
"No. XLV" to a fine of L500 and ten months' imprisonment, and for the
printing of the "Essay on Woman" to another fine of L500 and a further
twelve months' imprisonment. The populace, delighted to have their hero
again among them, escorted him to prison, illuminated their houses, and
broke the windows of those who took no part in the rejoicings, with the
result that there ensued a riot in which six people met their death.
The election of Wilkes to the House of Commons perplexed ministers, who
at first sought refuge in inaction, but eventually, after much
provocation from the new member[265] moved to expel him from Parliament
and carried their resolution by 219 to 137 votes. This, however, led
only to further trouble, for when a new writ for Middlesex was issued,
Wilkes was re-elected on February 16. Again, on the following day, he
was expelled, and a resolution passed that he was incapable of sitting
in the existing Parliament. This was clearly illegal, and the people
avenged this attempted infringement of their rights by returning Wilkes
for the third time on March 16. On the 17th he was once more expelled;
and, when returned once more, a few days later, the House of Commons by
197 to 143 votes declared the defeated candidate, Colonel Luttrell,[266]
duly elected.
[265] "In the public press, on the platform, on the stage, his influence
was enormous. His good pleasure sent politicians to Parliament; his good
pleasure made London sheriffs, made provincial mayors."--Justin
McCarthy: _History of the Four Georges_.
[266] Henry Lawes Luttrell (1743-1821), succeeded his father as second
Earl of Carhampton, 1787.
The popularity of Wilkes was gall and wormwood to the King, whose
authority and wishes were openly set at defiance, and who was openly
threatened by the mob. It was known he had taken an active part in the
prosecution of the popular demagogue, and this was deeply resented. "If
you do not keep the laws, the laws will not keep you," so ran the
lettering of a placard thrown at this time into the royal carriage.
"Kings have lost their heads for their disobedience to the laws." George
III's courage was undeniable, and no threat could make him connive at
any action likely to lessen the royal prerogative. "My spirits, I thank
heaven, want no rousing," he wrote to Lord Chatham in May, 1767. "My
love to my country, as well as what I owe to my own character and to my
family, prompt me not to yield to faction. Though none of my ministers
stand by me, I cannot truckle."[267] Lord North, too, was well
acquainted with the royal firmness and intrepidity: "The King," he said,
"would live on bread and water to preserve the constitution of his
country. He would sacrifice his life to maintain it inviolate."
[267] _Chatham Correspondence._
The courage George III displayed in politics was not lacking in moments
of personal danger. Though, unlike George I and George II, he could not
prove his valour on the field of battle, the several attacks upon his
life gave him sufficient opportunity to show his fearlessness. It was,
indeed, at these times he appeared at his best, not only in dignity, but
in kind-heartedness and in tender consideration for his consort. The
first murderous attack upon him was made August 2, 1786, as he alighted
from his coach at the garden entrance of St. James's Palace. A woman,
Margaret Nicholson, held out to him a paper, which, assuming it to be a
petition, he took from her; but as he did so she struck at him with a
knife, and the attempt to kill him only failed from the knife being so
thin about the middle of the blade that, instead of entering the body,
it bent with the pressure of his waistcoat.[268] The would-be assassin
was at once seized, and seeing she was roughly handled, "The poor
creature is mad," cried the King; "do not hurt her. She has not hurt
me." He held the _levee_, and then drove hastily to Windsor to let the
Queen know he was unhurt. "I am sure you must be sensible how thankful I
am to Providence for the late wonderful escape of his Majesty from the
stroke of an assassin," Mrs. Delany wrote to Miss Hamilton. "The King
would not suffer any one to inform the Queen of that event till he could
show himself in person to her. He returned to Windsor as soon as the
Council was over. When his Majesty entered the Queen's dressing-room he
found her with the two eldest Princesses; and entering in an animated
manner, he said, "Here I am, safe and well!" The Queen suspected from
this saying that some accident had happened, on which he informed her of
the whole affair. The Queen stood struck and motionless for some time,
till the Princesses burst into tears, on which she immediately found
relief."[269]
[268] Subsequently George asked: "Has she cut my waistcoat? for I have
had no time to examine. Nothing could have been done easier, for there
was nothing for her to go through but a thin linen and fat."
[269] Mrs. Delany: _Autobiography and Correspondence_.
[Illustration: _From an old print_
THE KING'S LIFE ATTEMPTED]
Thirteen years later, on October 29, 1795, on his way to open
Parliament, he was surrounded by a violent mob, who threw stones into
the carriage, and demanded peace and the dismissal of Pitt. Lord Onslow,
who was with the King, has left an account of the distressing incident.
"Before I sleep let me bless God for the miraculous escape which my
King, my country, and myself, have had this day. Soon after two o'clock,
his Majesty, attended by the Earl of Westmoreland and myself, set out
for St. James's in his state coach, to open the session of Parliament.
The multitude of people in the park was prodigious. A sullen silence, I
observed to myself, prevailed through the whole, very few individuals
excepted. No hats, or at least very few, pulled off; little or no
huzzaing, and frequently a cry of 'give us bread': 'no war': and once or
twice, 'no King'! with hissing and groaning. My grandson Cranley, who
was on the King's guard, had told me, just before we set out from St.
James's that the park was full of people who seemed discontented and
tumultuous, and that he apprehended insult would be offered to the King.
Nothing material, however, happened, till we got down to the narrowest
part of the street called St. Margaret's, between the two palace yards,
when, the moment we had passed the Office of Ordnance, and were just
opposite the parlour window of the house adjoining it, a small ball,
either of lead or marble, passed through the window glass on the King's
right hand and perforating it, leaving a small hole, the bigness of the
top of my little finger (which I instantly put through to mark the
size), and passed through the coach out of the other door, the glass of
which was down. We all instantly exclaimed, 'This is a shot!' The King
showed, and I am persuaded, felt no alarm; much less did he fear, to
which indeed he is insensible. We proceeded to the House of Lords, when,
on getting out of the coach, I first, and the King immediately after,
said to the Lord Chancellor, who was at the bottom of the stairs to
receive the King, 'My Lord, we have been shot at.' The King ascended the
stairs, robed, and then perfectly free from the smallest agitation, read
his speech with peculiar correctness, and even less hesitation than
usual. At his unrobing afterwards, when the event got more known (I
having told it to the Duke of York's ear as I passed under the throne,
and to the others who stood near us), it was, as might be supposed, the
only topic of conversation, in which the King joined with much less
agitation than anybody else. And afterwards, in getting into the coach,
the first words he said were, 'Well, my Lords, one person is _proposing_
this, and another is _supposing_ that, forgetting that there is One
above us all who _disposes_ of everything, and on whom alone we depend.'
The magnanimity, piety, and good sense of this, struck me most forcibly,
and I shall never forget the words.
"On our return home to St. James's, the mob was increased in Parliament
Street and Whitehall, and when we came into the park, it was still
greater. It was said that not less than 100,000 people were there, all
of the worst and lowest sort. The scene opened, and the insulting abuse
offered to his Majesty was what I can never think of but with horror, or
ever forget what I felt, when they proceeded to throw stones into the
coach, several of which hit the King, which he bore with signal
patience, but not without sensible marks of indignation and resentment
at the indignities offered to his person and office. The glasses were
all broken to pieces, and in this situation we were during our passage
through the park. The King took one of the stones out of the cuff of his
coat, where it had lodged, and gave it to me, saying, 'I make you a
present of this, as a mark of the civilities we have met with on our
journey to-day.'"[270]
[270]
"Talk no more of the lucky escape of the _head_,
From a flint so unluckily thrown,
I think very diff'rent, with thousands indeed,
'Twas a lucky escape for the _stone_."
_Epitaph on a Stone thrown at A Very
Great Man, but which missed him._
In connexion with this episode an accusation of ingratitude was brought
against the King. "Now the tradition is," wrote Lady Jerningham, "that
at a certain critical moment, when the guards had actually been pushed
back or disorganized for a while by a rush of the rabble, a gentleman
sprang forward in front of the carriage door, drew on the assailants,
threatening to kill forthwith any one who approached nearer, and thus
kept the mob at bay sufficiently long to allow the guards to rally round
the coach, and prevent further assault. The King inquired about 'the
name of his rescuer,' and was informed that it was Mr. Bedingfeld."[271]
According to Lady Jerningham, "no further notice was taken," but this
was not so, although there was some delay, owing to Mr. Bedingfeld's
sense of humour offending a minister. The King instructed Dundas to give
his preserver an appointment of some profit, and Dundas asked Bedingfeld
what could be done for him, to which question came the witty but
unfortunate reply: "The best thing, sir, you can do for me is to _make
me a Scotchman_." Dundas angrily dismissed the humorist, but George,
after making frequent inquiries as to what had been done, and each time
receiving the reply that no suitable position was vacant, at last said
very tartly: "Then, sir, you must _make_ a situation for him," and a new
office with a salary of L650 a year was created for Mr. Bedingfeld.
[271] _The Jerningham Letters._
Twice more and on the same day, May 31, 1800, was the King's life in
danger. In the morning he was present at a review of the Grenadier
Guards in Hyde Park, and during one of the volleys of, presumedly, blank
cartridge, a bullet struck Mr. Ongley, a clerk in the Admiralty, who was
standing only a few paces from his Majesty. It was never discovered,
however, whether this accident was deliberate or unintentional. George
visited Drury Lane Theatre the same evening, and the moment he appeared
in his box, a man in the pit near the orchestra discharged a pistol at
him. "It's only a squib, a squib; they are firing squibs," he reassured
the Queen as she entered the box; and, when the man was removed, "We
will not stir," he added, "but stay the entertainment out." "No man ever
showed so much courage as our good King's disregard of his person, and
confidence in the overshadowing Providence on the pistol being fired,"
Lady Jerningham wrote. "He went back one step and whispered to Lord
Salisbury: it is now known that it was to endeavour to stop the Queen,
for that it was likely another shot would be fired, he himself remaining
at his post. The Queen, however, arrived a moment after, and he then
said they had fired a squib."[272] When Sheridan said to the King that
after the shot he should have left the box lest the man fired again, "I
should have despised myself for ever, had I but stirred a single inch. A
man on such an occasion should need no prompting but immediately see
what is his duty," the latter rejoined; and indeed he had his nerves so
well under control that "he took his accustomed doze of three or four
minutes between the conclusion of the play and the commencement of the
farce, precisely as he would have done on any other night."[273] "I am
going to bed with a confidence that I shall sleep soundly," he said
later in the evening, "and my prayer is that the poor unhappy person,
who aimed at my life, may rest as quietly as I shall." It was _a propos_
of this attempt that Sheridan at once composed an additional verse for
the Royal Anthem, which was sung at the conclusion of the performance.
"From every latent foe,
From the assassin's blow,
God save the King!
O'er him Thine arm extend;
For Britain's sake defend
Our father, Prince, and friend;
God save the King!"
[272] _The Jerningham Letters._
[273] Wraxall: _Historical Memoirs of My Own Times_.
In spite of these attacks, which had no political significance, for the
perpetrators, Margaret Nicholson and James Hatfield, were mad, the King
would have no guards except on state occasions, and when remonstrated
with by a member of his Court, "I very well know that any man who
chooses to sacrifice his own life may, whenever he pleases take away
mine, riding out, as I do continually, with a single equerry or
footman," he said calmly. "I only hope that whoever may attempt it will
not do it in a barbarous or brutal manner."[274]
[274] Wraxall: _Historical Memoirs of My Own Times_.
A king who could face death without a tremor was not to be frightened by
any demagogue.
"Though entirely confiding in your attachment to my person, as well as
in your hatred of every lawless proceeding," he wrote to Lord North on
April 25, "yet I think it highly proper to apprise you that the
exclusion of Mr. Wilkes appears to be very essential, and must be
effected."[275]
[275] _Correspondence of George III with Lord North._
The King's anger greatly handicapped ministers. "The ministers are
embarrassed to the last degree how to act with regard to Wilkes," the
Bishop of Carlisle wrote to Grenville. "It seems they are afraid to
press the King for his pardon as that is a subject his Majesty will not
easily hear the least mention of; and they are apprehensive, if he has
it not, that the mob of London will rise in his favour."[276] When the
City of London presented an address, complaining of the arbitrary
conduct of the House of Commons, the King burst out laughing and turned
his back on the Lord Mayor. A second deputation was treated in much the
same way, when the Lord Mayor, William Beckford, replied to the King's
abrupt reply with an impromptu speech, that was subsequently inscribed
on a monument erected in his honour in the Guildhall. "Permit me, Sire,
further to observe that whosoever has already dared, or shall hereafter
endeavour, by false insinuations, and suggestions, to alienate your
Majesty's affections from your loyal subjects in general, and from the
City of London in particular, is an enemy to your Majesty's person and
family, a violator of the public peace, and a betrayer of our happy
constitution as it was established at the glorious and necessary
revolution."
[276] _Grenville Papers._
While Wilkes was in prison his admirers paid his debts, it is said, to
the amount of L17,000, and on his release on April 17, 1770, he was
greeted with as much enthusiasm as a king on his coronation. "It
seemed," as Heron remarked, "as if the population of London and
Middlesex were the _plebs_ of ancient Rome, and Wilkes a tribune." The
Common Council of the City elected him, in quick succession, Alderman
and Sheriff, and, after the Court of Aldermen had twice selected another
candidate, he became Lord Mayor in 1774, the year that witnessed his
return for the fifth time as Member of Parliament for Middlesex, "Thus,"
said Walpole, summing up the career of this indomitable man, "after so
much persecution by the Court, after so many attempts upon his life,
after a long imprisonment in gaol, after all his own crimes and
indiscretions, did this extraordinary man, of more extraordinary
fortune, attain the highest office in so grave and important a city as
the capital of England, always reviving the more opposed and oppressed,
and unable to shock Fortune, and make her laugh at _him_ who laughed at
everybody and everything."
In the end, however, Wilkes made his peace with the King, was received
at Court, and became somewhat of a courtier, declaring that himself had
never been a Wilkite. The strange spectacle of the monarch and the
demagogue engaged in amicable conversation delighted Byron, who could
not miss so excellent an opportunity for humour.
"Since old scores are past
Must I turn evidence? In faith not I.
Besides, I beat him hollow at the last,
With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky.
I don't like ripping up old stories, since
His conduct was but natural in a prince.
Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress
A poor unlucky devil without a shilling;
But then I blame the man himself much less
Than Bute and Grafton, and shall be unwilling
To see him punished here for their excess,
Since they were both damn'd long ago, and still in
Their place below: for me, I have forgiven,
And vote his _habeas corpus_ into Heaven."[277]
[277] _The Vision of Judgment._
[Illustration: THE NEW COALITION.
1784.
THE KING & JOHN WILKES.
O rare Forty five!
O dear Prerogative!
The Wolf shall dwell with the Lamb, & the Leopard shall lie down with
the Kid; & the Calf & the young Lion & the Fatling together: & a
_little Child_[A] shall lead them.
[A] _Vide, Pitt._
Isaiah. Chap. xi.V.v
THE RECONCILIATION]