Change of the Ministry--Character of Mr. Legge--The Duke
of Bedford has an audience--He declines office--Further
appointments--Lord Anson--The Duke of Devonshire and
Lord Hartington--The Whigs satisfied--Character of Lord
Holderness--Murray released--The Princess delivered of a
posthumous child--Discovery of Lyttelton’s letter--Foreign
affairs--The Marquis de Mirepoix--Character of Sir Charles
Hanbury Williams--Death of the Prince of Orange--Princess
of Orange--Debates on Privilege--Illness of the Duke of
Cumberland--Debate on the army estimates--Affairs of
France--Death of Lord Bolingbroke--The characters of Sir Robert
Walpole and Bolingbroke--Death of the Queen of Denmark--Walpole
and Pelham.
June 13th.--The Duke of Newcastle wrote to Lord Sandwich, that the
King had no farther occasion for his service; and in the evening
sent Mr. Legge to acquaint the Duke of Bedford with the dismission
of his friend. Legge was a younger son of Lord Dartmouth, who had
early turned him into the world to make his fortune, which he
pursued with an uncommon assiduity of duty. Avarice or flattery,
application or ingratitude, nothing came amiss that might raise
him on the ruins of either friends or enemies; indeed, neither
were so to him, but by the proportion of their power. He had been
introduced to Sir Robert Walpole by his second son, and soon
grew an immeasurable favourite, till endeavouring to steal his
patron’s daughter,[166] at which in truth Sir Robert’s partiality
for him had seemed to connive, he was discarded entirely; yet taken
care[167] of in the very last hours of that Minister’s power;
and though removed from the Secretaryship of the Treasury, being
particularly obnoxious to Lord Bath, he obtained a profitable
employment[168] by the grossest supplications[169] to the Duke of
Bedford; and was soon after admitted into the Admiralty by as gross
court paid to Lord Winchelsea, whom he used ill the moment he found
it necessary to worship that less intense but more surely-rising
sun, Mr. Pelham. He had a peculiarity of wit and very shrewd parts,
but was a dry and generally an indifferent speaker. On a chosen
embassy to the King of Prussia, Legge was duped and ill-treated
by him. Having shuffled for some time between Mr. Pelham, Pitt,
the Duke of Bedford, and Lord Sandwich, and wriggled through the
interest of all into the Treasury, and then to the Treasurership of
the Navy, he submitted to break his connexions with the two latter
by being the indecent messenger of Lord Sandwich’s disgrace. The
Duke met him on the steps of Bedford-house (as he was going to Lord
Gower to know what part he would take on this crisis) and would
scarce give him audience; but even that short interview could not
save Legge from the confusion he felt at his own policy; and with
the awkwardness that conscience will give even to an ambassador, he
said, he had happened, as he was just going out of town, to visit
the Duke of Newcastle, where he had not been in two months before,
and had been requested by him to be the bearer of this notification.
The Duke of Bedford, who carried Lord Trentham with him, found Lord
Gower in no humour to resign with him; on the contrary, enraged
at his son, who told him he could not serve under Lord Anson, the
new head of the Admiralty. “Sir,” said his father, “he is your
superior; he is a Peer.” “Who made him so?” replied Lord Trentham.
Lord Gower told the Duke of Bedford that he had listed all his
children against him; and threatened Lord Trentham to disinherit
him of all that was in his power; who told him in pretty plain
terms, how much he was a dupe to the Pelhams; and after many high
words, they both left him.
When the Duke of Bedford arrived at Kensington, he found none of
the opposite faction but Lord Lincoln, whom he desired to acquaint
the Duke of Newcastle with what he was going to say to the King.
“Tell him, my Lord, because perhaps he would not like to come in
and hear it; I shall neither say more or less for his presence
or absence. If he comes into the closet and begins to dispute,
I will not altercate with him there; I will afterwards wherever
he pleases.” When he went in to the King, he spoke above an hour
warmly and sensibly on his own grievances, particularly on the Duke
of Dorset being designed Lord Lieutenant for six months before he
was made acquainted with it; on his relation, Lord Hartington,
being named in the same manner for the Master of the Horse, and
called up to the House of Peers, for which he had that very morning
kissed hands; on the dismission of his friend Lord Sandwich;
and on all the treacheries of the Duke of Newcastle, which he
recapitulated, and the scenes of mischief which Mr. Pelham had been
acting in Lord Gower’s family: and he concluded with telling the
King, that their persecution of him and Lord Sandwich arose solely
from their attachment to his son the Duke; and then desired leave
to resign the Seals. The King was struck and pleased with this
remonstrance; agreed to all he had said of the Duke of Newcastle;
doubted of the facts charged on Mr. Pelham; and with regard to
Lord Sandwich, only said, “I don’t know how it is, but he has very
few friends.” He told the Duke of Bedford, that if he was uneasy
in his present post, he would give him that of President; but the
Duke said it was impossible for him to act with the two brothers.
He begged three reversions in the Secretary’s office for his two
secretaries, Mr. Leveson and Mr. Aldworth, and his steward Butcher;
to which the King deferred giving an answer till next day, but
then granted them; and parted with him with particular marks of
favour and approbation.
As soon as the Duke of Bedford had resigned, Lord Trentham sent
his resignation in a very explicit letter to Mr. Pelham, in which
he spoke warmly on malicious people who had prejudiced his father
against him. Mr. Pelham, who could neither avoid doing wrong nor
bear to be told of it, was inconceivably stung with this reproach;
and as if shifting off the consequence would clear him from being
the cause, he would have waved accepting the resignation, sending
Lord Trentham word that he was misinstructed in sending it to him,
who had no authority to receive it, but yet was sorry for what he
was doing.
17th.--Lord Granville was appointed President of the Council,
Lord Hartington Master of the Horse, Lord Albemarle Groom of
the Stole, Lord Anson First Lord, and the Admirals Boscawen and
Rowley Commissioners of the Admiralty; the latter attached to Lord
Granville, the other to nothing but his own opinion. He was on the
worst terms with Anson, who had carried off all the glory of the
victory at Cape Finisterre, though Boscawen had done the service,
and whom he suspected of having sent him on the impracticable
expedition to Pondicherry on purpose to ruin him. Lord Anson was
reserved and proud, and so ignorant of the world, that Sir Charles
Williams said he had been round it, but never in it. He had been
strictly united with the Duke of Bedford and Lord Sandwich, but
not having the same command of his ambition that he had of his
other passions, he had not been able to refuse the offer of the
Chancellor’s daughter, nor the direction of the Admiralty.
Lord Hartington, and his father, the Duke of Devonshire,[170]
were the fashionable models of goodness, though their chief merit
was a habit of caution. The Duke’s outside was unpolished, his
inside unpolishable. The Marquis was more fashioned, but with an
impatience to do everything, and a fear to do nothing. Sir Robert
Walpole had set up the father as the standard of Whiggism; in
gratitude, he was constantly bigoted to whoever passed for head
of the Whigs: but the dexterity of raising his son to so eminent
a post as Master of the Horse during his own life, and obtaining
a Peerage for his own son-in-law,[171] by retiring from power
himself, extremely lessened the value of the rough diamond[172]
that he had hitherto contrived to be thought.[173]
However, the Whigs were so satisfied with the promotion of Lord
Hartington, that they overlooked the conjunction of Lord Granville,
though so little time had passed since they had been enrolled in
a crusade against him; and it would have been difficult for the
Pelhams to have told what they had done to give Lord Granville a
higher opinion of them, or what he had done to give them a lower
opinion of him: what had happened to make him feel less contempt
for them; or they to see less danger in him. So little reason had
they to expect better union with him, that when he was wished joy
on their reconciliation, he replied, “I am the King’s President;
I know nothing of the Pelhams; I have nothing to do with them.”
The very day he kissed hands, he told Lord D ****, one of the
dirtiest of their creatures, “Well, my Lord, here is the common
enemy returned!” Nugent, the Sancho Pança of this Quixote, began to
beat up for volunteers for him; and himself made large overtures to
Fox, desired to have some private conversation with him at Holland
House, and told him he would reconcile himself to the Duke. Fox
replied, “They have paved your way.” Lord Granville the next day
repeated this conversation to Mr. Pelham, with the only difference
of inverting the persons of the speakers, and ascribing to Fox
all the overtures that had come from himself. Two or three of his
inferior dependents were promoted, but no mention made of his
fellow martyrs.
On the 18th appeared the last and greatest phenomenon, Lord
Holderness,[174] who had been fetched from his Embassy in Holland
to be Secretary of State. In reality, he did justice to himself and
his patrons, for he seemed ashamed of being made so considerable,
for no reason but because he was so inconsiderable. He had a
formality in his manner that would have given an air of truth to
what he said, if he would but have assisted it with the least
regard to probability; but this made his narrations harmless, for
they were totally incredible. His passion for directing operas and
masquerades was rather thought a contradiction to his gravity,
than below his understanding, which was so very moderate, that no
relation of his own exploits would, not a little time before, have
been sooner credited, than his being made Secretary of State. What
contributed a little to make the King consent to this wonderful
promotion was his mother, Lady Fitzwalter, being distantly related
to the Royal Family. The Queen and Princesses always talked to her
in French, though she had never been out of England, because her
ancestors came originally from Germany.
When the King delivered the Seals to Lord Holderness in the
presence of the Duke of Newcastle, he charged him to mind only the
business of his province; telling him that of late the Secretary’s
office had been turned into a mere office of faction. The Duke of
Newcastle, who understood the reprimand, and Lord Holderness, who
did not, complained equally of the lecture. The former could not
well complain of any direct chiding; for the King, who had parted
with the Duke of Bedford, to quiet his wayward humour, to revenge
the Duke of Bedford would not speak to the Duke of Newcastle for
some weeks; an excuse he made advantage of pleading to the Duke
of Marlborough, who had solicited for a Prebend of Windsor; and
to Lord Halifax, who was pushing to get the West Indies entirely
subjected to the Board of Trade, and to be nominated a third
Secretary of State for that quarter of the world. As Lord Halifax
persisted in this demand, and the Duke of Newcastle did not care
to push the King any further, especially in the tender article of
new appointments, Lord Holderness was made to taste of the servile
uses for which he was introduced, and ordered to solicit the King
to take so fair a feather from his own command as the direction of
the West Indies; but for this time the Monarch would not, and Lord
Halifax, after many vain threats, was forced to yield. He was[175]
a man of moderate sense, and of great application to raise the
credit of his employment; but warm, overbearing, and ignorant of
the world.[176]
25th.--The King put an end to the Session. The Speaker touched
but gently and artfully on the Regency Bill; enough to show his
disapprobation, and not enough to reflect on the decision of the
House; praying for the King’s life, because of the difficulties
in which the Princess would be involved in a Regency without
Sovereignty.
The instant the Parliament was prorogued, the two Sheriffs of
London--I forget their names--accompanied by Lord Carpenter and Sir
George Vandeput, went to Newgate, released Murray, and conducted
him in paltry triumph to his own house. On the 28th, his case,
scurrilously written by one Whitehead,[177] a factious poet, was
published, for which the printer was taken into custody.
IN JULY, the posthumous child of which the Princess was delivered
was christened. The Prince had affected to baptize all his children
by popular names; but his wife being more prolific than the English
history, in heroes and heroines, the Edwards and Elizabeths
were exhausted, and he had been forced to go back as far as the
Conqueror’s daughter. The King would not suffer the last Princess
to be called Matilda,[178] but now, out of regard to his son’s
memory, indulged it.
Soon after the Prince died, an unlucky discovery had been made.
George Lyttelton had written a lamentation, on that occasion, to
his father,[179] an antiquated Baronet in Worcestershire, telling
him that he and his friends had just renewed their connexions with
the Prince of Wales, by the mediation of Dr. Ayscough, which,
though not ripe for discovery, was the true secret of their
oblique behaviour this session in Parliament. This letter he had
delivered to a gentleman’s servant, who was going into that county;
but the fellow having some other letters for the post, had by
mistake given in the private negotiation, which was only subscribed
_To Sir Thomas Lyttelton_. It was opened at the Post-office, and
carried to Mr. Pelham. Had it been seen by no other person, the
secret had been safe, and the treachery concealed, as carefully
as if he had been in the conspiracy himself, instead of being the
object of it; but it was talked of from the Post-office, though
obscurely for some time, till at last it was nursed up somehow or
other, and arrived at the King’s ears, who grew outrageous, and
could not be hindered from examining Shelvocke, the Secretary of
the Post-office, himself. Here he got very little further light;
for Shelvocke had been instructed to affirm that the letter was
sent back to Mr. Lyttelton, unopened; but Lyttelton, who had not
been so well instructed in his own secret, avowed it; and as if
there were nothing to be ashamed of but the discovery, he took
pains to palliate no other part of the story.
Absurdity was predominant in Lyttelton’s composition: it entered
equally into his politics, his apologies, his public pretences,
his private conversations. With the figure of a spectre, and the
gesticulations of a puppet, he talked heroics through his nose,
made declamations at a visit, and played at cards with scraps of
history, or sentences of Pindar. He had set out on a poetical love
plan, though with nothing of a lover but absence of mind, and
nothing of poet but absence of meaning; yet he was far from wanting
parts; spoke well when he had studied his speeches; and loved to
reward and promote merit in others. His political apostasy was
as flagrant as Pitt’s: the latter gloried in it: but Lyttelton,
when he had been forced to quit virtue, took up religion, and
endeavoured to persuade mankind that he had just fixed his views
on heaven, when he had gone the greatest lengths to promote his
earthly interest; and so finished was his absurdity, that he was
capable of believing himself honest and agreeable.
In the beginning of September came news of the birth of a Duke
of Burgundy; an event of the greatest moment to France, but not
received with their usual transports. The Court had disgusted the
clergy, by demanding an account of their revenues. The priests,
equally ready at contriving or imputing an imposture, persuaded
half the nation that the child was spurious; and to drive off the
war from their own quarters, endeavoured to light up or to lay the
foundation of a general war in the kingdom. The English Prelates
sent Harry the Fifth to the conquest of France, to prevent a
scrutiny of the same nature.
The same courier brought the Marquis de Mirepoix a patent of Duke.
He was much esteemed in England, having little of the manners
of his country, where he had seldom lived; and except a passion
which he retained for dancing, and for the gracefulness of his own
figure, there was nothing in his character that did not fall in
naturally enough with the seriousness of the English and German
Courts,[180] where he had been Ambassador; nor any quickness of
parts that could have made him offensive, if our Ministry had been
inclined to take exceptions. Their suspicions seldom ascended to
enemies really formidable. They bore with General Wall,[181] an
artful Irishman, Ambassador from Spain, and who but last year had
clandestinely sent thither several of our woollen manufacturers.
Greater insults were shown to us at Paris and Berlin, where Marshal
Keith and Lord Tyrconnel, two outlawed Jacobites, were reciprocally
Ambassadors. Indeed, it was a constant war of piques and affronts
between the King and his nephew of Prussia. The latter had insisted
upon the recall of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, who had sacrificed
to the ruling passion of the uncle, by treating the character of
the Prussian King, in his public dispatches and private letters, in
the strongest terms of satire.[182] He returned to Dresden, where,
about this time, he concluded a subsidiary treaty with the King
of Poland, to engage his vote for the Archduke Joseph to be King
of the Romans--the darling object of the ambition of the Court of
Vienna, and the common gulph of our profuse politics. The King of
Prussia openly, the French underhand, opposed the election. The
very opposition of the latter had a politic effect, as the longer
it remained in suspense, the longer would be the duration of our
extravagance. In one of the King of Prussia’s rescripts, he taxed
the King, whom he called the last and youngest of the Electors,
with violating both his oath and the Golden Bull.
Sir Charles Hanbury Williams had been attached to Mr. Winnington,
and was the particular friend of Fox. Towards the end of Sir Robert
Walpole’s power, they, Lord Hervey and Lord Ilchester, had forced
the last into the Secretaryship of the Treasury, against the
inclination of the Minister; an instance at that time unparalleled;
much copied since, as the Government has fallen into weaker hands.
Sir Charles remained a steady friend to Walpole, and persecuted
his rival, Lord Bath, in a succession of satiric odes, that did
more execution in six months, than the Craftsman had done in twice
the number of years; for the Minister only lost his power, but the
patriot his character. If Sir Charles had many superiors in poetry,
he had none in the wit of his poetry. In conversation he was less
natural, and overbearing: hated with the greatest good-nature,
and the most disinterested generosity; for fools dreaded his
satire--few forgave his vanity. He had thrown up his place on
some disgusts; the loss of Mr. Winnington, and a quarrel with the
Irish, occasioned by an ode[183] he wrote on the marriage of the
Duchess of Manchester and Mr. Hussey, fomented by Lord Bath and his
enemies, and supported with too little spirit, had driven him to
shelter his discontents in a Foreign Embassy, where he displayed
great talents for negotiation, and pleased as much by his letters,
as he had formerly by his poetry.[184]
On the 13th of the following month, an express arrived of the death
of the Prince of Orange, who, having been at Aix la Chapelle,
caught a fever on his return, and died in five days.
He had long been kept out of all share in the government, like his
predecessor, King William; like him, lifted to it in a tumultuous
manner, on his country being overrun by the French; and the
Stad-holdership made hereditary in his family before they had time
to experience how little he was qualified to re-establish their
affairs. Not that he wanted genius, but he was vain and positive,
a trifling lover of show, and not master of the great lights
in which he stood. The Princess Royal was more positive, and,
though passionately imperious, had dashed all opportunities that
presented for the Prince’s distinguishing himself, from immoderate
jealousy and fondness for his person. Yet the Mars who was locked
in the arms of this Venus, was a monster so deformed, that when
the King had chosen him for his son-in-law, he could not help, in
the honesty of his heart, and the coarseness of his expression,
telling the Princess how hideous a bridegroom she was to expect,
and even gave her permission to refuse. She replied, she would
marry him if he was a baboon. Well then, said the King, there is
baboon enough for you!
The Princess immediately took the oaths as _Gouvernante_ to her
son, and all orders of men submitted to her as quietly as in a
monarchy of the most established duration; though the opposite
faction was numerous, and she herself lethargic and in a very
precarious state of health. Lord Holderness was sent to condole
and advise her. She, who had long been on ill terms with, and now
dreaded the appearance of being governed by her father, received
the Ambassador and three letters written with the King’s own hand,
in the haughtiest and most slighting manner. Lord Holderness was
recalled in anger. The Princess, equally unfit to govern, or to be
governed, threw herself into the arms of France, by the management
of one Dubacq, a little Secretary, who had long been instilling
advice into her, to draw her husband from the influence of Monsieur
Bentinck and the Greffier, the known partizans of England; the
former of whom, immediately after the death of the Prince, refused
to admit Dubacq to a Council, to which she had called him, with the
chiefs of the Republic, at the House in the Wood.
The Princess Royal was accomplished in languages, painting, and
particularly music; the Queen, and the King too, before their
rupture, had great opinion of her understanding; but the pride of
her race, and the violence of her passions[185] had left but a
scanty sphere for her judgment to exert itself.
November 14.--The Parliament met. Lord Coventry, and Lord
Willoughby, of Parham, moved the Address in the House of Lords;
Lord Downe and Sir William Beauchamp Proctor in the Commons. Sir
John Cotton objected to the words _our flourishing condition_; but
that was the only breath of opposition.
On the 18th, there was a meeting at the Speaker’s, to consult on
punishing the Sheriffs for their insolent behaviour on the delivery
of Murray; but they came to no resolution, except on remanding
Murray to his imprisonment. Accordingly, on the 20th, Lord Coke
moved to have the former votes on him read, and then to revive
them. He spoke well, and treated Murray and the Sheriffs with great
contempt. Lord Coke[186] had ready parts, a great memory, great
Whig zeal. There was too much pomp in his turn, and vehemence in
the expression of his dislikes, which were chiefly now directed
against the Scotch, who had persecuted him bitterly, on a quarrel
with his wife, a daughter of the late Duke of Argyle. He was on ill
terms too with Mr. Pelham, and had intended to have opened on the
neglect shown to the old Whigs; but his friend, Lord Hartington,
the officious tool to Mr. Pelham’s ingratitude, had been with him
that morning, and persuaded him to drop so general an attack.
Lord Duplin seconded him. Sydenham opposed, and Lord Egmont,[187]
who spoke with great caution, and apologized for undertaking the
cause, was against unnecessary asperity; [he] said, “This man had
demonstrated the insufficiency of the power of the House; that his
imprisonment would not put a stop to pamphlets; that the public,
who cannot judge as the House of Commons does, would think the
whole an election matter--a point in which they are most jealous;
that Murray had already suffered greatly; that to revive the
sentence would be inflicting banishment, which will be no further
voluntary, than as he will prefer it to imprisonment. That the
sentence must be renewed every session; and that the Commons,
though but a third part of the Legislature, would be exerting
the power of banishment, which is unknown to the Crown itself.
That such a stretch of authority would be doubly unpopular, after
enacting a continuation of the Parliament by the Regency Bill last
session. That in one point you had set yourselves a precedent of
moderation by slighting the second set of Queries, after censuring
the first, though the second attacked both King and Parliament;
the first only the Duke. That contempt had stopped the progress
of those libels; that contempt such as Lord Coke’s would be the
properest treatment of Murray. That this prosecution can’t be
pursued without some injustice, as it must be stopped somewhere,
and it will be unjust not to proceed as far hereafter on any
election complaint:” and then after a definition of true and false
honour, he moved to adjourn.
Lord Coke replied in few but masterly words; defined true and false
moderation, and said, “That true moderation is becoming when the
culprit submits, but that it is _parvi animique pusilli_ not to
persecute a criminal who plumes himself on his defiance, and is the
patron of a lost, fallen, unanimated cause!” Mr. Pelham commended
both speeches, and added, “If the House has not all the authority
it wishes, it ought at least to exert all it has.” The Motion
for adjournment was rejected, and the resumption of the sentence
agreed to without a division. Lord Coke then moved, that Murray
should receive the sentence on his knees; and that the pamphlet
called _his Case_ might be read, which was unanimously voted a
false, scandalous, and seditious libel; and then Lord Coke moved
to address the King to order the Attorney-General to prosecute the
author, printer, and publishers; adding, that he would not move any
censure on the Sheriffs, but hoped it would be a warning to the
City what Magistrates they choose. Sir John Barnard was to have
made their submission, if any vote had been proposed against them.
The 22nd, Lord Barrington moved that the number of seamen for the
ensuing year should be increased to ten thousand, and said archly,
“That he did not intend to defend the change of his own opinion,
but of those who ought to preserve a political steadiness in their
conduct; that he did not think so large a number always necessary,
but circumstances made them so now.” The Bedfords and Sandwichs
were removed; the Pitts and the Lytteltons were to be cajoled, and
so ten thousand became necessary. They were voted.
The 25th, Lord Coke moved to call the Serjeant-at-Arms, who
reported that Murray was absconded. Lord Coke moved for a
proclamation and reward for apprehending him, which Vyner and
Sydenham opposed, and the latter made a speech worthy the ages
of fanaticism, comparing Murray to Prophet Daniel, who would not
kneel to Nebuchadnezzar’s Idol, and alleged the example of the
Dissenters, who do not kneel at the Sacrament. Alderman Jansen
defended the City, on which Lord Coke had reflected, and said,
“That to have touched the Sheriffs would have raised a tumult.” A
reward of five hundred pounds for apprehending Murray was voted on
a division of 98 to 26.
The Duke had a fall as he was hunting at Windsor, was taken up
speechless, and refusing to be blooded, grew dangerously ill with
a pain in his side, and was given over by the physicians; but
recovered. The King was inexpressibly alarmed, wept over him, and
told everybody that was in his confidence, that the nation would be
undone, left to nothing but a woman and children! He said to Mr.
Fox of the Duke, “He has a head to guide, to rule, and to direct;”
and always talked as if the Duke was to be sole Regent. Mr. Fox
repeated this to him, who said, the King had talked to him himself
in the same strain. “Why then, sir,” replied Mr. Fox, “don’t you
just put him in mind, in those fits of tenderness, of what he has
done to prevent your being so?” He replied, “That it was now too
late to remedy; that the Regency Bill could not be repealed, and
that even if it could, he had rather bear the ignominy that had
been laid upon him, than venture giving the King the uneasiness of
reflecting, if it were but for two hours in his own room, on the
injury he had done him.”
Mr. Pelham was uneasy at Mr. Fox’s being admitted to the Duke in
his illness, when he was excluded. The Duke asked Fox afterwards
how the brothers had behaved during that crisis. He replied, “Both
cried: the Duke of Newcastle over-acted it, but Mr. Pelham seemed
really concerned.”--“Ay,” said the Duke, “I know they both cried;
for the Duke of Newcastle, he cried, because he had not been in the
morning to know how I did--but for Mr. Pelham, he is such a fellow,
that I can believe he was in earnest!”
The 27th, Mr. Fox in the committee proposed the same army as last
year, _as there was no alteration of circumstances_; Sir John
Cotton to reduce it to fifteen thousand; and was seconded by
Northey, Beckford, Prowse, Thornton, Norris, Bertie, and Robinson.
Cotton was answered by William Lyttelton; as Beckford (who had
wished that the Army had committed outrages, in order to have
the nation sensible of the dangers from it) was by Dr. Lee, who,
to palliate the change of his style, was so injudicious as to
insist that the situation of affairs was highly altered by the
deaths of the Prince and the Prince of Orange, and the birth of
the Duke of Burgundy. Lord Egmont, who found himself almost alone
in opposition, made a very artful speech; said, “He had hoped to
have heard some answer from the Ministry to Sir John Cotton’s
arguments; that for his own part, he should be very gentle, as it
was not a time to provoke a power that nothing could resist, but
should coolly ask for an answer. He ridiculed Dr. Lee with great
delicacy and compliments; knew that he had _reason_ for what he
did; and that he had _great views_, and overlooked small ones,
and that such principles would justify little deviations. Yet if
the dreaded event of a possible minority should come to pass, it
would always be easy to call troops from Ireland, where, and by
the number of officers, you always have the root of an Army. That
to facilitate the assembly of one, the Parliament will be sitting:
that the Ministry ought to affect to show the good disposition of
Government, now everything is so quiet; and that such a display
of tenderness to the subject would produce real security. He made
a strong panegyric on the King, but said those good principles of
his Majesty were prevented from being exerted by his Ministers, who
govern by force in a reign that has given no pretence for it. That
if any one of them would act constitutionally, he would support
that man in spite of little reflections; and would extend his hand
in defence, where he had never extended it, if once the Government
would quit this road of rigour. That the death of the Prince of
Orange could be no argument for maintaining so large an Army; we
cannot govern Holland; that indeed were the Dutch strong, and in
a more flourishing situation, it might be a reason, when we might
give and receive mutual assistance. But for the pretence of the
birth of a Duke of Burgundy, nothing could be more ridiculous; no
argument more absurd than the birth of Foreign Princes; or than
our increasing our Army whenever there is an heir to the Crown of
France.”
He asked, “in what period of our history the Crown had so much
power? That in 1646, when the Army had conquered King and
Parliament, they voted but 6000 men necessary. Yet, treble as the
present Army is desired, he would offer a composition, which, if
accepted, he would vote for the present plan within 900 men: he
would offer it to one (Mr. Pelham) not used to negotiate in public;
would make a treaty, without one secret article; and would promise
peace for one year,--a term as long as any modern treaty is likely
to last. The condition was, that the Ministry should consent to
reduce the Cavalry, and omit the Staff, which would create a
saving of 143,000_l._ He urged that the King had shown by a former
reduction, that, though he ought not to be without Guards and marks
of sovereignty, he despises show. That the Grenadiers may still be
kept up to attend on the King’s person; but he wished to break the
Guards and the regiment of Blues. And he concluded with saying,
that though he had no hopes of delivering the nation from the
danger, yet he wished to rescue it from the expense of the Army,
which cost very near as much as that immense one of the King of
Prussia.”
Mr. Pelham replied in a very dull speech, “That he had seen no
force exerted by the Administration; and attempted to defend Dr.
Lee: that if the King dies, you have already provided for the
strength of the Government: will you now weaken it? that, whenever
the Army has been much reduced, tumults have immediately arisen.
France may be tempted to disturb you, without meaning to fix the
Pretender here: that she might even mean that; and that some who
heard him knew that there had been Jacobite meetings within the
last six months. That his fears from that quarter made him always
more earnest on the question of the Army, than upon any other; and
that he desired no overt act to convince him of the still real
existence of Jacobitism. That the reduction proposed was a poor
pittance if meant for economy. That, indeed, if it were worth
while, the Blues might be changed; he had not much objection to it,
though they had always had the title of Guards. That seventy men
are as much as one officer can command; that the Army had already
been reformed; a further reduction would be useless or dangerous,
and will be a heavier burthen where quartered, from want of more
officers.” The House divided at five, and voted the same Army by
180 to 43. Only Lord Middlesex and Martyn, of the late Prince’s
faction, voting with Lord Egmont and the Speaker.
About this time, France seemed threatened with a cloud of intestine
troubles. Louis the _well-beloved_ had outlived the flattery of
even French subjects. Verses,[188] recommending the assassination
of him, were pasted up on the Louvre and the Pont-Neuf. Yet, though
marked for destruction by his priests, it was with great difficulty
that Madame de Pompadour, his mistress, could divert the melancholy
cast of his mind from sinking into a habit of devotion. She
perpetually varied his pleasures, and carried him from one palace
and hunting seat to another,--journeys which cost immense sums, and
made the people join in the clamour which the Clergy had conjured
up. Gunpowder and some treasonable papers were found in the cradle
of the Duke of Burgundy. The Dauphin, a dull, bigoted Prince, was
zealously attached to his mother, and had hazarded brutalities to
the mistress, which the King bore with great indulgence. It did
not break out into factions, as the domestic quarrels of the Royal
Family had done for two generations here in England, but appeared
in little marks and distinctions, such as different manners of
wearing the Cordon, &c. among the creatures of either Court. In the
midst of these uneasinesses, a new flame broke out. The Archbishop
of Paris was a favourite, having made his court even at the expense
of his brethren the clergy. The hospitals had always been managed
with so much integrity as to become the most creditable fund for
charity; the Parliament directed them. The Archbishop endeavoured
to arrogate the sole command of them to himself: the King supported
his pretensions. The Parliament having in vain remonstrated,
concurred to throw up their employments; and though they submitted
to resume their functions, it was not without having inspired the
Court with a temper of moderation, which is as seldom learnt by
despotic Kings, as such firmness is seldom practised by Parliaments
renowned for far greater liberties.
December 4th.--Mr. Pelham opened the Land Tax of three shillings in
the pound; and recommended as his maxim _to preserve and improve
our situation, seldom to gain, and then our enemies will not be
offended_. Lord Harley and Beckford, with Vyner, Oglethorpe,
Robinson, Admiral Vernon, Sydenham, Thornton, and Cooke, (the sad
refuse of all the last Oppositions,) opposed it. So did Sir John
Barnard, who said, “He had declared two years ago, that, if the
peace continued, he would vote no more for three shillings; that
the peace was made because our Allies had not contributed equally
to the expense of the war; and he proposed a wild scheme of tying
down 600,000_l._ a year, out of the Sinking Fund, to pay the
National Debt, by which means, in fifty years, we should be able
to carry on as extensive a war as ever we ought to wage.” A scheme
by which, if strictly pursued, and a new war should intervene, we
should be paying off money borrowed at three per cent., while
obliged to borrow other money at five, six, or whatever interest
extortion should find it a proper season to demand. Lord Strange
spoke for the question. Sir John Cotton answered, “That country
gentlemen would indeed have very _little ease_,[189] if three
shillings land tax was thought necessary till our debts were
paid, as Lord Strange had said, and nobody had contradicted.” Mr.
Pelham said, “Lands sell better now than ever they had done, and
that luxury and election contests between neighbouring gentlemen
occasion the change of property.” Cotton replied, “The country
gentlemen had learnt from the report of the Secret Committee, that
the Court supports one side, and therefore they would grow more
wary.” They divided for two shillings, but it was carried for
three, by 176 to 50.
The next day, on the report, Sydenham made a lamentable speech,
affected to cry, and asked pardon for quoting a ludicrous epitaph
on so melancholy an occasion, but which he could not help thinking
applicable to the great Minister of these times, who has so
burthened land:--
Lie heavy on him, Land; for he
Laid many a heavy load on thee.
The 10th, the Mutiny Bill was read in the Committee. Lord Egmont
made some faint opposition on the old points; but not finding
himself supported, went away before the division, which was but 19
to 118. Sir Harry Erskine voted for the Bill, without mentioning
the clauses he had last year promised to bring in.
Lord Halifax had stayed in the country out of humour, having in
vain demanded to be made a Cabinet-Counsellor, as an introduction
to the Regency, and the Secretaryship for the West Indies. His
friend, Lord Barrington, was now sent to acquaint him that the King
persisted in a refusal, but might be brought to acquiesce in more
moderate demands. Lord Halifax came to town, protesting he would
resign, but was pacified with a promise of the West Indies being in
a great measure subjected to the Board of Trade.
The 12th died Lord Bolingbroke;[190] a man who will not be seen
in less extraordinary lights by posterity than he was by his
contemporaries, though for very different reasons. His own age
regarded him either as the greatest statesman, oppressed by
faction, and the greatest genius persecuted by envy; or as the most
consummate villain, preserved by clemency, and the most treacherous
politician, abandoned by all parties whom he had successively
betrayed. Posterity will look on him as the greatest philosopher
from Pope’s writings; or as an author of a bounded genius from his
own. To see him in a true light, they must neither regard all the
incense offered to him by Tories, nor credit all the opprobrium
cast on him by Whigs. They must see him compounded of all those
vices and virtues that so often enter into the nature of a great
genius, who is not one of the greatest.
Was it being master of no talents to have acted the second part,
when little more than a youth, in overturning such a Ministry,
and stemming such a tide of glory, as Lord Godolphin’s and the
Duke of Marlborough’s? Were there no abilities, after his
return from banishment, in holding such a power as Sir Robert
Walpole’s at bay for so many years, even when excluded from
the favourable opportunity of exerting his eloquence in either
House of Parliament? Was there no triumph in having chiefly
contributed to the fall of that Minister? Was there no glory in
directing the councils and operations of such men as Sir William
Windham, Lord Bath, and Lord Granville? And was there no art in
persuading the self-fondest and greatest of poets, that the writer
of the Craftsman was a more exalted genius than the author of
the Dunciad? Has he shown no address in palliating the exploded
treaty of Utrecht? Has he not, in his letters[191] on that event,
contrived to make assertions and hypothesis almost balance stubborn
facts?[192] To cover his own guilt, has he not diverted our
attention towards pity for the great enemy, in whose service he
betrayed his own country?
On the other hand, what infamy to have sold the conqueror to the
conquered! What ingratitude in labouring the ruin of a Minister,
who had repealed his sentence of banishment! What repeated treasons
to the Queen, whom he served; to the Pretender,[193] who had
received and countenanced him; to the late King, who had recalled
him! What ineffectual arts to acquire the confidence of the late
King, by means of the Duchess of Kendal, and of the present King,
by Lady Suffolk! What unwearied ambition, even at seventy years
of age, in laying a plan of future power[194] in the favour of
the Prince of Wales! What deficiency in the very parts that had
given success to the Opposition, to have left him alone excluded
from reaping the harvest of so many labours! What blackness in
disclosing the dirtiness of Pope,[195] who had deified him!
And what philosophy was that which had been initiated in the
ruin of the Catalans; had employed its meridian in labouring the
restoration of Popery and arbitrary power; and busied the end of
its career, first in planning factions in the Pretender’s Court, by
the scheme of the father’s resigning his claim to the son; and then
in sowing the seeds of division between a King and a Prince, who
had pardoned all his treasons!
Sir Robert Walpole and Lord Bolingbroke had set out rivals at
school, lived a life of competition,[196] and died much in the same
manner, provoked at being killed by empirics;[197] but with the
same difference in their manner of dying as had appeared in the
temper of their lives: the first with a calmness that was habitual
philosophy; the other with a rage that his affected philosophy
could not disguise. The one had seen his early ambition dashed with
imprisonment, from which he had shot into the sphere of his rival,
who was exiled, sentenced, recalled; while Walpole rose gradually
to the height of temperate power, maintained it by the force
of his single talents against Bolingbroke, assisted by all the
considerable geniuses of England; and when driven from it at last,
resigned it without a stain or a censure, and retired to a private
life, without an attempt to re-establish himself--almost without
a regret for what he had lost. The other, unquiet, unsteady,
shocked to owe his return to his enemy, more shocked to find his
return was not to power, incapable of tasting the retirement which
he made delightful to all who partook it, died at last with the
mortification of owing his greatest reputation to the studies
he had cultivated to distress his antagonist. Both were beloved
in private life; Sir Robert from the humanity and frankness of
his nature; Bolingbroke from his politeness of turn and elegance
of understanding. Both were fond of women; Walpole with little
delicacy; Bolingbroke to enjoy the delicacy of pleasure. Both
were extravagant; and the Patriot who accused, and the Minister
who had been accused of rapine, died poor or in debt. Walpole was
more amiable in his virtues; Bolingbroke more agreeable in his
vices.[198]
Cresset was made Treasurer to the Prince of Wales, in the room of
Mr. Selwyn, who died. Nich. Herbert succeeded him as Treasurer,
and Mr. Harding as Auditor to Princess Emily, who had wished to
give those places to William Leveson, Lord Gower’s brother, but
attached to the Duke of Bedford. Mr. Leveson applied to Mr. Pelham,
who insisted on his asking Lord Gower’s interest, which he refused
to do. Oswald, who, by the consent of Pitt, and the faction of
cousins, was to have kissed hands for Clerk of the Green Cloth to
the Prince of Wales, but two days before the Prince’s death, was
now made a Lord of Trade.
About the middle of this month, died his Majesty’s youngest
daughter, the Queen of Denmark, a Princess of great spirit
and sense, and in the flower of her age. Her death, which was
terrible, and after an operation which lasted an hour, resembled
her mother’s--a slight rupture which she concealed, and had been
occasioned by stooping when she was seven months gone with her
first child. The Queen had in a manner prophesied to her when she
was expiring herself: “Louisa, remember I die by being giddy, and
obstinate in having kept my disorder a secret!” Her fate, too,
had borne a resemblance to her mother’s; for the King of Denmark,
though passionately fond of her, to prevent the appearance of being
governed, had kept a mistress, and given her great uneasiness:
yet she never mentioned it in her confidential letters to her own
family. The Duke said, she had always told them, that if she was
unhappy, they should never know it. In her last moments, she wrote
a moving letter to the King, the Duke, and her sisters, to take
leave of them. This letter, and the similitude of hers and her
mother’s death, struck the King in the sharpest manner, and made
him break out into warm expressions of passion and tenderness. He
said, “This has been a fatal year to my family! I lost my eldest
son--but I am glad of it;--then the Prince of Orange died, and left
everything in confusion. Poor little Edward has been cut open (for
an imposthume in his side), and now the Queen of Denmark is gone!
I know I did not love my children when they were young; I hated to
have them running into my room; but now I love them as well as most
fathers.”
The 19th.--The Parliament adjourned; an era for ever remarkable in
English annals! Opposition, which had lasted from the days of Queen
Elizabeth, and even the distinctions of parties having in a manner
ceased at this period! Popery, which had harassed the reign of that
heroine; the spirit of liberty which had struggled against four
Stuarts; the spirit of slavery which had wrestled to restore their
descendants; all the factions which had distracted King William,
possessed Queen Anne, and ridiculed the House of Hanover; and the
Babel of parties that had united to demolish Walpole, and separated
again to pursue their private interests; all were now sunk into a
dull mercenary subjection to two brothers, whose administration
resembled that of King James for timidity, of King William for
change of Ministers, and of Queen Anne for an ignominious peace!
Buckingham had been attacked in the arms of King James; Laud and
Strafford beheaded; Hyde banished, though allied to the Crown; the
virtuous Somers impeached; the victorious Marlborough disgraced;
the favourite Walpole removed. Pelham alone could teach servility
to a Parliament, whose privileges were yet untouched!
In Sweden there seems the same indifference for liberty. Count
Tessin, the pattern of the British Minister, always affecting to
resign, always entreated by his creatures to retain his power,
is known to be meditating the restoration of absolute power. In
France, where the Crown is despotic, and the people bigoted to
whatever phantom is their King, there is a set of men, whose
remonstrances, steadiness, and patriotism would figure with any
senate, that Greece, Rome, or former Britain knew. But it is time
to conclude the history of this extraordinary year, all the chief
events of which having terminated in confirming the power of Mr.
Pelham, it will be proper, before I take leave of the reader, to
add this person’s portrait to those of the under-actors; and the
better to illustrate it, I shall take the liberty of examining his
and his master Sir Robert Walpole’s characters together, though
it is difficult to compare two Ministers, when on one side genius
must be entirely left out of the question: nor could anything draw
on a parallel between a man of genius and a man of none, but the
singular case of the latter having affected what the former could
not--I mean power without unpopularity.
When Elijah was hurried to heaven, he left his cloak to Elisha with
a _double_ portion of his spirit: but that legacy[199] in no sense
happened to Mr. Pelham, who was as much inferior to Sir Robert
Walpole in political courage as in abilities. Sir Robert Walpole
was bold, open, steady, never dejected; he would attempt for honest
ends where strict morality did not countenance his opinion; he
always disclosed his arts after they had effected his purpose; and
sometimes defeated them by too early discovery. He never gave up
his party to serve himself, though he has departed from his own
opinion to please his friends, who were serving themselves; nor did
he ever lose his cheerfulness, though he had hurt himself against
his opinion.
Mr. Pelham was timorous, reserved, fickle, apt to despair. He would
often not attempt when he was convinced it would be right; would
sooner hurt himself by not telling his mind, than attain his aim
by being communicative; and often gave up his party, indeed not to
serve himself, but his enemies, and frequently disappointed himself
of success, by never expecting to succeed. Presumption made Sir
Robert Walpole many enemies; want of confidence in himself kept
from Mr. Pelham many friends. Sir Robert Walpole was content to
have one great honest view, and would overlook or trample upon the
intermediate degrees. Mr. Pelham could never reach a great view,
by stumbling at little ones; he would scruple to give an hundred
pound to one opponent, and to buy off another would give up a
question[200] that might endanger the nation. Sir Robert Walpole
loved power so much, that he would not endure a rival; Mr. Pelham
loved it so well, that he would endure anything. The one would
risk his administration, by driving every considerable man from
Court, rather than venture their being well there; the other
would employ any means to take able men out of the Opposition,
though he ventured their engrossing his authority and outshining
his capacity; but he dreaded abuse more than competition, and
always bought off his enemies to avoid their satire, rather than to
acquire their support: whereas, Sir Robert Walpole never trading
but for members, and despising invectives, and dreading rivals,
gained but weak, uncertain assistance, and always kept up a
formidable Opposition. His apprehension of competitors was founded
on prudence, because great part of his authority depended upon
the King’s favour: Mr. Pelham owing nothing to that, had the less
reason to fear losing it; as he maintained himself in the Ministry
in spite of the King’s partiality to abler men, he had no reason to
be jealous of their getting interest at Court.
Sir Robert Walpole raised himself to the head of the
Administration, without interest, without fortune, without
alliances, and in defiance of the chiefs of his own party:[201]
he rose by the House of Commons--he fell by it. Mr. Pelham found
himself next upon the list, and was recommended to a strong party
by their leader. He would never have risen, had he had no other
foundation than the House of Commons, and would fall to-morrow if
he had no other support; for he must be undone whenever his safety
depends upon himself. Sir Robert Walpole’s eloquence was made for
use, and he never could shine but when it was necessary[202] he
should. He wanted art when he had no occasion for it; and never
pleased, but when he did more than please. I am not going to
contrast this part of their characters, nor to say that Mr. Pelham
only shone upon trifling and unnecessary occasions, for he did not
do even that; he was obscure upon the most trivial occurrences,
perplexed even when he had but one idea, and whenever he spoke
well, it was owing to his being heated; he must lose his temper
before he could exert his reason. Sir Robert Walpole palliated too
little, Mr. Pelham too much. The one would defend his errors by a
majority; the other with a greater majority would excuse his merit,
and would sooner obscure and depreciate his meaning when right and
clear of itself, than not apologize for it. Sir Robert Walpole
could not deviate but with openness and sincerity; the other
degraded truth by timidity, sense by mystery, and right by asking
pardon for it.
The one was honoured by his enemies, the other at best pitied
by his friends. His most prejudiced opponents[203] often grew
convinced that the former was in the right: the heartiest friends
of the latter knew he meant to be so, but never found stronger
reasons to confirm them in their opinion. The one durst do right
and durst do wrong too; the other dared either so little, that it
generally ended in his doing the latter. Sir Robert Walpole never
professed honesty, but followed it; Mr. Pelham always professed it,
and kept his word, when nothing happened to make him break it; and
then he broke it for some other honest end, though perhaps far from
being equally cogent.
Sir Robert Walpole’s mastery was understanding his own country,
and his foible, inattention to every other country, by which it
was impossible he could thoroughly understand his own. Mr. Pelham
understood more of his own country than of others, though he
would have made a better Minister for any other nation; for as he
would not have met with opposition or contradiction, two things
his nature could not bear, and as he meant exceedingly well, he
would have served the country that employed him to the best of
his understanding, and that might have cleared up as well as his
temper, when he had nothing to perplex it. In the knowledge of the
Revenue, he and all other men must yield to Sir R. Walpole, though
he and all other men make the same use of that knowledge, which is
to find new funds for the necessities of the Government, and for
the occasions of the Administration: by those occasions, I mean
corruption, in which I believe Mr. Pelham would never have wet his
finger, if Sir Robert Walpole had not dipped up to the elbow;
but as he did dip, and as Mr. Pelham was persuaded that it was as
necessary for him to be Minister as it was for Sir Robert Walpole,
he plunged as deep. The difference was, that Mr. Pelham always
bribed more largely as he had more power; for whenever it tottered,
he the less ventured to prop it by those means, as he was the more
afraid of being called to account for putting them in practice.
Sir Robert Walpole, with the greatest confidence of himself, had no
pride; Mr. Pelham had the most, with the least self-sufficience.
Both were loved in private life. Sir Robert Walpole loved
magnificence, and was generous to a fault: the other had neither
ostentation nor avarice, and yet had little generosity. The one was
profuse to his family and his friends, liberal indiscriminately,
unbounded to his tools and spies: the other loved his family
and his friends, and enriched them as often as he could steal
an opportunity from his extravagant bounty to his enemies and
antagonists. Indifferent people were too indifferent to him; and
for intelligence, it was one of the greatest blemishes of his
Administration, he wanted it so entirely--not resolution more! Sir
Robert Walpole’s friendships were chiefly confined to persons much
below him; Mr. Pelham’s were almost all founded on birth and rank:
the one was too familiar, the other never so. Sir Robert Walpole
was forgiving to a fault, if forgiveness can be faulty; Mr. Pelham
never forgave, but when he durst not resent. Sir Robert Walpole
met with much ingratitude; Mr. Pelham was guilty of much. Both were
frequently betrayed: Sir Robert Walpole without being deceived;
Mr. Pelham not half so often as he suspected it. The one was most
depreciated while he was Minister; the other will be most when he
ceases to be Minister. All men thought Mr. Pelham honest till he
was in power; the other never was thought so till he was out.
Both were fortunate in themselves, unhappy in their brothers.
With unbounded thirst for politics, the Duke of Newcastle and
Horace Walpole were wretched politicians: each inferior to their
brothers in everything laudable; each assuming and jealous of
their own credit, though [neither] the Duke nor Horace could ever
have been considerable, but by the fortune of their brothers. The
one childish and extravagant, the other a buffoon and avaricious;
Horace sunk into contempt when his brother fell with honour; the
Duke was often on the point of dragging his brother down, and was
the object of all contempt, even where his brother had still power
and honour. Mr. Pelham maintained his inferiority to Sir Robert
Walpole even in the worthlessness of his brother.
“J’aye dict le mot, pour ne frustrer la postérité.”
_H. Etienne, Apologie d’Herodote._
FOOTNOTES:
[166] Lady Maria Walpole, since married to Charles Churchill.
[167] He and Mr. Benjamin Keene had the reversion of a place in
the Revenue between them, after the death of the then Earl of
Scarborough.
[168] Surveyor of the King’s Woods and Forests.
[169] They are contained in two letters still preserved by the Duke
of Bedford.
[170] October 11, 1764.--Tuesday noon, an express arrived from the
Duke of Devonshire (Lord Hartington in the text), at the Spa in
Germany, which brought advice that his Grace was much better, and
that there were great hopes of his recovery; but these agreeable
hopes were soon damped by the arrival of Lord John Cavendish,
the Duke’s youngest brother, at seven o’clock the same night, at
Devonshire House, who brought the melancholy news, that his Grace
had relapsed, and departed this life the 3rd instant, at half an
hour past nine o’clock at night, at the above place.
His Grace was eldest son of William, late Duke of Devonshire, by
his Duchess Catherine, daughter and sole heir of John Hoskins,
Esq. In March, 1748, he married the Lady Charlotte Boyle, youngest
daughter and heiress of Richard, late Earl of Burlington, which
lady died in December, 1754, by whom he had issue,--1, William,
Marquis of Hartington, born in December, 1748, who is now the fifth
Duke of Devonshire, a minor, at Harrow school; 2, Lord Richard,
born June 19, 1752; 3, Lord George Henry, born in March, 1754; and
4, Lady Dorothy, born August 27, 1750.
His Grace, at the time of his decease, was Lord High Treasurer, and
a Privy Counsellor of Ireland, Governor of the county of Cork in
that kingdom; a Governor of the Charter-house, Fellow of the Royal
Society, and Knight of the Garter; but some time since had resigned
all his places on the British establishment. The many amiable and
truly excellent public and private virtues, and the very shining
accomplishments which his Grace possessed, added a lustre to his
high rank, and render his death a public loss.--(Public Journals.)
[171] Lord Duncannon, eldest son of the Earl of Besborough, who was
created an English Baron, was one of the Lords of the Admiralty.
[172] So Sir Robert Walpole called him.
[173] The above sarcastic remarks may be ascribed to a recent
family quarrel, in which the Duke of Devonshire and Lord Hartington
had sided with Horace Walpole, the uncle, against the nephew, the
author of these Memoirs. The injustice of them is sufficiently
proved by the estimation in which both these noblemen (especially
Lord Hartington) appear to have been held by their contemporaries,
and by the conduct of the latter even in delicate and difficult
times, as related by the author himself.--E.
[174] Robert Darcy, Earl of Holderness, Lord of the Bedchamber,
had been Embassador at Venice and the Hague, where he married
the Greffier Fagel’s niece. His mother was a daughter of Duke
Schomberg, and married a second time to the Earl of Fitzwalter.
[175] George Montagu, third Earl of Halifax, of that house, and
First Lord of Trade. He had set out in Opposition with Lord
Sandwich, and came into place at the same time.
[176] Monday, June 10, 1771.--On Saturday morning, at four
o’clock, died George Montagu Dunk, Earl of Halifax, Viscount
Sunbury, Secretary of State for the northern department, Ranger
and Warden of Salcey Forest and Bushy Park, Lord Lieutenant and
Custos Rotulorum of Northamptonshire, and one of his Majesty’s
Most Hon. Privy Council, Knight of the Garter, a Governor of the
Charter-house, and ranked as Lieutenant-General of his Majesty’s
Forces. His Lordship was born October 5, 1716, succeeded George,
his father, the preceding Earl, May 9, 1739, and married in 1741,
Miss Anne Dunk, daughter and heir of ---- Dunk, of Hawkhurst, in
Kent, Esq., which lady dying in 1753, left three daughters,--viz.,
Lady Anne, who died in 1761; Lady Frances, who died in 1764;
and Lady Elizabeth, married on March 1, 1766, to Lord Viscount
Hinchinbroke, son and heir of the Earl of Sandwich. His Lordship,
on the breaking out of the Rebellion in 1745, raised a regiment
of Foot for his late Majesty. On March 20, 1761, his Lordship was
nominated Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and his administration of the
government of that kingdom did him great honour.--(Public Journals.)
[177] Paul Whitehead, author, among other satiric writings, of the
State Dunces, and Manners; for the last of which he was ordered by
the House of Lords to be taken into custody. He was a man of most
infamous character.
[178] She was christened Caroline Matilda.
[179] Sir Thomas Lyttelton had been a Lord of the Admiralty, but
retired with a pension on his son’s going so warmly into Opposition.
[180] Vienna.
[181] He came over very privately during the war, and negotiated
the first overtures of peace.--Vide Lord Chesterfield’s Apology.
[182] Vide Appendix, F. G. and H.
[183] The title of it was, “The Conquered Duchess.” [It has been
frequently printed, and is probably familiar to the reader.]--E.
[184] He died, [after much bodily and mental illness] November 2nd,
1759.
[185] The Princess Royal was so proud and ambitious, that one
day, when very young, telling the Queen how much she wished that
she had no brothers, that she herself might succeed to the Crown,
and the Queen reproving her, she said, “I would die to-morrow to
be Queen to-day!” On the Queen’s death, the Princess Royal, like
others, imagining the King must be governed by a woman, pretended
ill-health, and that her physicians had ordered her to Bath, and
came over; but having been so indiscreet as to let her motive be
known, the King would not sutler her to stop in London, but sent
her directly to Bath, and, on her return, back to Holland; nor ever
forgave her.
[186] Edward Coke, only son of Thomas, Earl of Leicester.
[187] Lord Chesterfield told Mr. Pelham from Lord Bolingbroke,
that Lord Egmont being sent by the Prince to Lord Bolingbroke
to consult on measures for opening his approaching reign, Lord
Bolingbroke desired him to open his plan; Lord Egmont said it would
be necessary for the Prince to begin with some popular act, and
proposed for that end, immediately to restore feudal tenures! Lord
Bolingbroke dissenting, they parted in heat.
[188] Vide the Appendix, I.
[189] This alludes to the proposal in the foregoing session, of
confining Murray in the dungeon called _Little Ease_.
[190] Henry St. John, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke, Secretary of State
to Queen Anne, had, on the accession of George the First, been
impeached for his share in the treaty of Utrecht, and fled. Sir
Robert Walpole (strongly against the inclination of his brother
Horace, Lord Townshend, and others of his friends) obtained his
pardon, though Lord Bolingbroke and his advocates afterwards
pretended that the Minister had no hand in it. The day after his
return he dined at Chelsea, to thank Sir Robert; but his confusion
and uneasiness were so great, that he had like to have been choked
with the first bit he ate, and was forced to rise from table. He
soon endeavoured to supplant Sir Robert, by the assistance of his
enemy the Duchess of Kendal, who obtained an audience for him in
the late King’s closet, where he presented a representation against
Sir Robert, which the King immediately afterwards delivered to
Sir Robert, and repeated the conversation to him. A parallel case
happened afterwards to the same Minister. Lord Stair endeavoured to
supplant him with Queen Caroline, and even was so hardy as to make
love to her, which not succeeding, he wrote a long letter to her,
and went the next morning for an answer. She sent him out word by
her Chamberlain, Lord Grantham, that she had given his letter to
Sir Robert Walpole, and had ordered him to deliver her answer. Lord
Stair saw his situation, and set out next morning for Scotland.
[191] On history, published since his death.
[192] See Lord Walpole’s answer to these letters. All Lord
Bolingbroke’s art, all his beauties of style, vanish before these
plain, unadorned, argumentative, demonstrative replies.
[193] In a late apology for Lord Bolingbroke, the author (supposed
to be Campbell) has endeavoured to deny this known fact, but
without the least proof.
[194] Lord Egmont gave me the following instances. Lord Bolingbroke
gave the Prince a scheme for vesting the Revenue in the Crown for
every six years, without a Civil List, and for having Parliaments
holden every five or six years. The Court he paid to the Prince was
to a degree of adoration. One day that he dined with Lord Egmont,
the Prince came in as they were drinking coffee, and bad them not
mind him. Lord Egmont, who knew that to obey was to respect, gave
Lord Bolingbroke a dish; but he, who thought that to disobey from
respect was more respectful (and who perhaps knew, that though
the Prince seemed to encourage familiarity, he never forgave it),
started and cried, “Good God! my Lord, what are you doing? Do you
consider who is present?” One of his views was to be an Earl; and,
knowing that the Prince had had an inclination for his sister,
Lady St. John, he took her son into his own house, under pretence
of educating him and making him his heir, as an inducement to the
Prince to promise him the Earldom. The Prince often sent his first
Minister, Dr. Lee, to him; and one day said to Lord Egmont of Lord
Bolingbroke, “That man is at fourscore just what he was at forty! I
know how he flatters Lee to his face, and yet he is always teasing
me to discard him, and telling him that he is not fit to hold a
candle to an Administration.”
A few years after this note was written, I met with the following
words in the eleventh letter of the Dissertation on Parties, p.
151, of the quarto edition: “Should a King obtain, for many years
at once, the supplies and powers which used to be granted annually
to him, this would be deemed, I presume, even in the present age,
an unjustifiable measure, and an _intolerable grievance_; for
this plain reason, because it would alter our constitution in the
fundamental article, that requires frequent assemblies of the whole
legislature, in order to assist, and control too, the executive
power, which is entrusted with one part of it.” What must be the
heart of that man, who, merely to load an envied Minister, could
suppose instances of wicked administration, which had not entered
into the head of any other man; and who could afterwards adopt
those suppositions himself, and try to recommend himself to a
Prince by those individual bad measures, the creatures of his own
brain: and this at past seventy years old! hazarding, for a very
few years of unenjoyable power, to entail so calamitous a system on
his country!
[195] Lord Bolingbroke had trusted him to get six copies printed
off of his Letters on Patriotism; after Pope’s death, it was
discovered that he had secured a vast number of copies for his own
benefit. Vide the Preface to the Idea of a Patriot King, where this
story is exposed. What aggravated Lord Bolingbroke’s exposing his
friend was, that after his own death it was discovered that he had
secretly preserved a copy of Dr. Middleton’s Essay on Prayer, which
his lordship had persuaded the doctor’s executors to burn.
[196] Vide Appendix, K.
[197] Sir Robert Walpole was killed by Jurin’s medicine for the
stone; Lord Bolingbroke by a man who had pretended to cure him of a
cancer in his face.
[198] In quibusdam virtutes non habent gratiam, in quibusdam vitia
ipsa delectant.--_Quintil._
[199] This allusion is manifestly borrowed from Sir Charles Hanbury
Williams, who, in an epistle written in 1745, but not printed till
many years afterwards, thus draws the character of Mr. Pelham, and
contrasts him with Sir Robert Walpole. Apostrophizing the Goddess
of Prudence, he says--
Turn to your altars, on your votaries shine,
See Pelham ever kneeling at thy shrine;
By you at first by slow degrees he rose,
To you the zenith of his power he owes;
You taught him in your middle course to steer,
Impartial, moderate, candid to appear;
Fearful of enmity, to friendship cold,
Cautiously frank, and timorously bold,
And so observant, never to offend
A foe, he quite forgets to fix a friend.
Long versed in politics, but poor in parts,
The courtier’s tricks, but not the statesman’s arts;
His smile obedient to his purpose still,
Some dirty compromise his utmost skill;
In vain his own penurious soil he till’d;
In vain he glean’d from Walpole’s plenteous field;
In vain th’ exchequer robes about him flow,
The _mantle_ does not make the _prophet_ now.--E.
[200] As he gave up the Hanover troops, to pave the way for Mr.
Pitt’s coming to Court--and voting for them himself next year!
[201] As Lord Sunderland, Lord Stanhope, Craggs, and Lord Townshend.
[202] How little he shone in formal ornamental eloquence appeared
from his speech at Sacheverell’s trial, which was the only written
one, and perhaps the worst he ever made.
[203] That Lord Granville, Pitt, and Lyttelton, recanted all their
invectives, must not be produced as unbiassed evidence; but the
Duke of Bedford and Lord Cornbury will be allowed too honest to
have acted from any motives but conviction.
1752.
Pour être bon historien, il ne faudroit être d’aucune religion,
d’aucun pais, d’aucune profession, d’aucun parti.