The Author’s motives for continuing his Work in the year
1754--Flattery the vice of Historians--The Author’s apprehensions
for the Constitution--His political principles--Embarrassments
caused by the death of Mr. Pelham--Difficulties in the way
of choosing his successor--Appointment and disappointment
of Mr. Fox--His audience with the King--Duke of Newcastle
sole Minister--New appointments--Character of Sir Thomas
Robinson--Affairs in Ireland--New Parliament--Origin of the
War in America--Defeat of Major Washington--Law-suit about
Richmond New Park--Debates on the Address--Prince of Hesse
turns Papist--Disturbances in the New Parliament--Debates on
the Army Estimates--Breach between Sir George Lyttelton and Mr.
Pitt--State of parties--Projected changes--Deaths of Lords Gower
and Albemarle.
Having never proposed to write a regular history, but to throw
together some anecdotes and characters which might cast a light on
the times in which I have lived, and might lead some future and
more assiduous historian to an intimate knowledge of the men whose
counsels or actions he shall record, I had determined to lay down
my pen at the death of that Minister, whose fortune, situation, and
genius had superinduced a very new complexion over his country,
and who had composed a system of lethargic acquiescence, in which
the spirit of Britain, agitated for so many centuries, seemed
willingly to repose. But as the numbness of that enchantment has
been dispelled by the evanition of the talisman, though so many of
its mischievous principles survive, I shall once again endeavour
to trace the stream of events to their secret source, though
with a pen more unequal than ever to the task. A Monkish writer
may be qualified to record an age of barbarity and ignorance;
Sallust alone was worthy to snatch the rapid episode of Catiline
from oblivion; Tacitus, to paint monsters whose lives surpassed
caricatura; Livy, to embrace whole ages of patriots and heroes.
Though no Catiline, I trust, will rise in my pages, to deform his
country by his horrid glory; though our present minister,[240]
notwithstanding he has the monkey disposition of Heliogabalus, is
happily without his youth or lusts, and by the character of the
age that disposition is systematized into little mischiefs and
unbloody treacheries; though we have no succession of incorrupt
senators; yet the times beginning to wear in some lights a more
respectable face, it will require a steadier hand, and more
dignified conceptions, than served to seize and to sketch out the
littlenesses and trifles that had characterized the foregoing
period.
The style, therefore, of the following sheets will perhaps wear
a more serious aspect than I have used before: yet shall I not
check a smile now and then at transient follies; nor, as much
appropriated as gravity is to an historian, can I conceive how
history can always be faithful, if always solemn. Is a palace a
perpetual shrine of virtue, or incessantly a tribunal of severity?
do not follies predominate in mankind over either virtues or vices?
and whoever has been conversant in a Court, does he not know how
strongly the cast of it verges towards ridiculous? Besides, I am no
historian: I write casual Memoirs; I draw characters; I preserve
anecdotes, which my superiors, the historians of Britain, may
enchase into their weighty annals, or pass over at their pleasure.
In one point I shall not vary from the style I have assumed,
but shall honestly continue to relate the blemishes of material
personages as they enter upon the scene: and whoever knows the
interior of affairs, must be sensible to how many more events the
faults of statesmen give birth, than are produced by their good
intentions.
If I do not forbid myself censure, at least I shall shun that
frequent poison of histories, flattery. How has it preponderated in
most writers! My Lord Bacon was almost as profuse of his incense
on the memory of dead Kings, as he was infamous for clouding the
living with it. In the reign of Henry the Seventh, the whole
strain of his panegyric (and it is more justly to be called so than
Pliny’s, whose patron was really a good Prince), is to erect that
sordid Monarch’s tyranny into prudence, nay, his very knavery into
policy! Comines, a honester writer, though I fear by the masters
whom he pleased, not a much less servile Courtier, says, that
the virtues of Louis the Eleventh preponderated over his vices!
Even Voltaire, who feels for Liberty more than almost ever any
Frenchman did, has in a manner purified the dross of adulation,
which cotemporary authors had squandered on Louis the Fourteenth,
by adopting and refining it after the tyrant was dead. In his war
of 1741, he paints that phantom of Royalty, the present King,
extinguishing at Metz, with as much energy of concern, as if he was
describing the death-bed of a Titus or an Antonine.
But how unpardonable is a flattering history!--if anything can
shock one of those mortal divinities (and they must be shocked
before they will be corrected), it would be to find that the truth
will be related of them at last. Nay, is it not cruel to them to
hallow their bad memories? one is sure they will never _hear_
truth; shall they not even have a chance of _reading_ it?
It may be wondered that I, who know and have drawn the emptiness
of present Royalty, should, in the exordium to a new period, in
which surely the effulgence of Majesty has not been displayed with
any new lustre, detain the reader with reflections on a pageant
which has so little operation on the reality of the drama. But I
must be pardoned: though I now behold only a withering King, good,
as far as acquiescing to whatever is the emergent humour of his
people, and by no means the object of jealousy to his subjects, yet
I am sensible that, from the prostitution of patriotism, from the
art of Ministers who have had the address to exalt the semblance
while they depressed the reality of Royalty, and from the bent
of the education of the young Nobility, which verges to French
maxims and to a military spirit, nay, from the ascendant which the
Nobility itself acquires each day in this country, from all these
reflections, I am sensible, that prerogative and power have been
exceedingly fortified of late within the circle of the Palace; and
though fluctuating Ministries by turns exercise the deposit, yet
there it is; and whenever a Prince of design and spirit shall sit
in the Regal Chair, he will find a bank, a hoard of power, which he
may play off most fatally against this constitution. That evil I
dread--the steps to that authority, that torrent which I should in
vain extend a feeble arm to stem, those steps I mean to follow and
record.
My reflections led me early towards, I cannot quite say
Republicanism, but to most limited Monarchy; a principle as much
ridiculed ever since I came into the world, as the profligacy of
false patriots has made patriotism--and from much the same cause.
Republicans professed to be saints, and from successful sainthood
became usurpers: yet Republicanism, as it tends to promote Liberty,
and Patriotism as far as it tends to preserve or restore it, are
still godlike principles. A Republican who should be mad, should
be execrable enough to endeavour to imbrue his country in blood
merely to remove the name of a Monarch, deserves to excite horror;
a quiet Republican, who does not dislike to see the shadow of
Monarchy, like Banquo’s ghost, fill the empty chair of state, that
the ambitious, the murderer, the tyrant, may not aspire to it;
in short, who approves the name of a King, when it excludes the
essence; a man of such principles, I hope, may be a good man and
an honest; and if he is that, what matters if he is ridiculous? A
Republican, who sees monarchy realizing, who observes all orders
of men tending to exalt higher, what all orders had concurred to
depress; who has found that the attempts of the greatest men to
divert the torrent, have been turned afterwards to swell it; who
knows the inefficacy of all endeavours to thwart the bent of a
nation, and who is but too sensible how unequal his own capacity
and virtue would be to so heroic a character; such a man may be
pardoned, I hope, if he contents himself with the silent suffrage
and wishes of his heart, though he has not the parade of martyrs,
nor the courage of a Roman, in as _un-Roman_--(why should it be
beneath the dignity of history to say?) in as _un-British_ an age
as ever was.
* * * * *
Mr. Pelham’s death was unexpected; he was healthy, and not old:
all men had concurred to serve under him; none had prepared any
intrigues to succeed him. The King had found it comfortable to be
governed absolutely, as long as the _viceroy[241] over him_ could
govern the kingdom as absolutely: being told of his Minister’s
death, he said with a sigh, that could not excite much compassion,
“I shall now have no more peace!”
[Illustration: M^R. PELHAM.
London. Henry Colburn, 1846.]
The Houses, who certainly were not to be consulted on the
successor, adjourned themselves for a week--who _should_ be
consulted, was the question--for nobody pretended to suppose
that the Sovereign was to choose his delegate himself. What was
as ridiculous as this state of doubt, was the measure taken for
solving it--the Duke of Devonshire was sent for--a proper dictator,
had the only business of the State been to drive a nail into a
wall! The event put the finishing stroke to the ridicule. In the
meantime, the Lord Chief Justice Lee was appointed Chancellor of
the Exchequer, the forms depending on that office not admitting an
interregnum. Lord Chief Justice Pratt had been supplied in like
manner on the demission of Aislabie.[242]
As the temper of the age did not admit the ancient folly of that
presumptuous officer called a King’s favourite; and as Ministers in
late times had towered to power from ascendants gained by abilities
or address in the House of Commons, it was natural for the nation
to turn its eyes thither: three subjects there presented themselves
before the rest, as candidates for the first Ministership; but
each attended with almost insuperable difficulties: these were
Fox, Pitt, and Murray. The Chancellor hated the first: the Scotch
and the Law, two formidable bodies, whom Fox had wantonly and
repeatedly provoked, readily listed under that banner: the Princess
could not love him from his connexion with the Duke; and though he
had been the ostensible second to Mr. Pelham, he had never lived
upon any terms with the Duke of Newcastle: but he was the ablest
man in Parliament, at least the craftiest Parliament-man, had acted
steadily with the Whigs, and had in their eyes the seeming right
of succession. Pitt had, or had unluckily acted, very ill health;
and was now at Bath. Mr. Pelham, who had adopted him, had, however,
died without removing, probably without trying to remove, his
Majesty’s excommunication; and that was now allowed all its force,
as Pitt had no party that wished his elevation. Murray was a Scot,
and too lately been the object of clamour on the worst species of
Scotch principles. The Chancellor was already jealous of him; and
both Fox and Pitt would have concurred for his exclusion. He was
timid himself, and always waving what he was always courting. This
Gordian Knot was soon cut; and the world that had pretended to look
out for a genius worthy to govern them, in six days descended from
their ambition, and submitted to be ruled by no abilities at all.
Fox acted reserve and retirement, and expected to be wooed. His
enemies indulged this humour, and deceived him. Stone went to him,
and in Murray’s name disclaimed all emulation of that kind, that he
never meant to quit his profession, that he aspired _only_ to be
Chancellor. The Chancellor on his part contributed: he sent Lord
Anson to Fox, to offer reconciliation, though justifying himself
on the former quarrel. Between the King and Fox several messages
passed by the intervention of Lady Yarmouth. The Princess, however,
expressed her dislike; and the Duke of Argyle was warm against his
promotion. The late beloved Minister was in the meantime totally
forgot, or only remembered by daily discoveries of the duplicity of
his conduct. Even his brother, who whimpered for him like a child
during the first hours, like a child forgot him, as soon as he had
formed the plan of inheriting his power: and nothing tended so much
to unravel the mystery of devotion which the nation had conceived
for Mr. Pelham, as its appearing, that it had not been the genius
of the man, but the servility of the times, which had established
his authority--in a fortnight the whole country was prostrate
before his brother.
The Duke of Newcastle, who for thirty years together had sapped
every Administration, could not resist having courage enough to
seize it for himself now it lay so exposed. A faint offer was made
to the Duke of Devonshire to sit at the head of the Treasury, which
he declining, on the 12th of March at night, only six days after
the death of Mr. Pelham, to the astonishment of all men, yet only
to their astonishment, it was settled that the Duke of Newcastle
should take the Treasury, with Legge for Chancellor of Exchequer,
and that Mr. Fox should be Secretary of State, with the management
of the House of Commons. Those solemn personages, the Cabinet
Council, were directed to offer this disposition to his Majesty,
as the result of their wisdoms and opinion--an opinion, that in
two days more they were reduced to disavow. The King confirmed
this establishment, with this salvo to his Royalty, that Legge
should never enter his closet; to so scanty a space was his kingdom
shrunk! That very night Lord Hartington was sent to notify the
new regulation to Mr. Fox, with this supplement, not imparted to
the Council, that his Grace would reserve to himself the disposal
of the Secret-Service Money, though he would always exactly
communicate to Mr. Fox how it had been employed.
The next morning, the Marquis carried Mr. Fox to the Chancellor,
where a reconciliation was completed; though, as this sincere man
told Lyttelton and Granville, he had made peace with Fox, yet would
never act in concert with him. From thence they went to the new
Vizier. On opening upon terms and measures, Mr. Fox mentioned the
Secret-Service Money--the Duke cut him short with saying, that
his brother had never disclosed the disposal of that money, nor
would he. Mr. Fox represented, that if he was kept in ignorance
of that, he should not know how to talk to members of Parliament,
when some might have received _gratifications_, others not. The
Duke answered ministerially, that though he would not inform Mr.
Fox, he would inform no one else. Lord Hartington ventured to urge
that this was not the message on which he had been sent; and Mr.
Fox pushing for further explanation, asked who was to have the
nomination to places? Newcastle replied, “I myself.” Fox, “Who the
recommendation?” N. “Any member of the House of Commons.” Fox then
inquired into the projected measures for securing the approaching
Parliament, and what list Mr. Pelham had left for composing it. The
Duke said, “My brother had settled it all with Lord Duplin.” Fox
replied, “Not all;” and named some unsettled boroughs. The Duke
said hastily, “No, no, all was settled.” Fox said, “I will come and
look over the list with your Grace.” He answered, “No, I will look
it over with Duplin, and then show it to you.” They came away.
Before I prosecute this barter for power, let me make one
reflection. How avowed was become the traffic for Parliaments!
how extensive the breach of the constitution, since Pym and
Hampden presented their bosoms to cover and close the gap! Yet
what has befallen this country, but what is common to sublunary
establishments? How few years had rolled away between the age of
Cato’s Brutus’s, Cicero’s, and the domination of that Imperial
fiddler, Nero? Within how small a period did the stock-jobber,
Julianus, purchase the very Empire which Trajan had extended to
its utmost limits? The auction of votes is become an established
commerce, and his Grace did nothing but squabble for the
prerogative of being sole appraiser.
Fox felt he was bubbled--yet was irresolute. He seemed
unaccountably to have lost the spirit which the Duke seemed as
unaccountably to have acquired. But in this transaction, and in
many subsequent instances, it appeared, that his timidity was
consistent with extreme rashness: his brother’s timorousness more
unallayed, had predominated, and given the colour of fear to their
joint Administration. The Duke left to himself, always plunged into
difficulties, before he shuddered for the consequences: the other
had possessed more foresight.
Lord Hartington acquainted the Chancellor with what had passed. He
seemed struck; but, as if conscious to the violation of the terms,
or determined at once to profit of it, said, he could not see the
Duke that evening, but would next morning. At night, the Duke
sent for Lord Hartington; not repentant; he was not apt to repent
of advantageous treachery. He would not deny the breach of his
engagements, but honestly declared he would not stand to them. Lord
Hartington, as if avowal of treachery repaired it, expressed no
resentment. His impartiality was ludicrous; he thought he displayed
sufficient friendship to Fox, by publishing the Duke of Newcastle’s
breach of faith; and he knew he should not offend the latter, by
adhering to a simple relation of his perfidy.
Fox in the meantime consulted his friends. The Duke of Cumberland
dissuaded his complying with terms infringed ere ratified. Horace
Walpole, the younger, laid before him the succession of the Duke
of Newcastle’s wiles and falsehoods; and being persuaded that this
coalition was intended only to prejudice Mr. Fox, and that he would
be betrayed, mortified, disgraced, as soon as the new Minister
should have detached him from his connexions, and prevented his
strengthening them, urged him to refuse the Seals. Sir Charles
Williams, who happened to be in England, and whose interest as a
Minister in Foreign Courts, indubitably pointed to make him wish
Mr. Fox Secretary of State, yet with great honesty laboured in
the most earnest manner to tear him back from the precipice on
which he stood. He yielded, yet never[243] forgave Sir Charles
Williams, whose dissuasion having been most vehement, had made most
impression on him. He sent the following letter by Lord Hartington
to the Duke of Newcastle:
March 14th, 1754.
My Lord Duke,
As your Grace intends to wait upon his Majesty to-day, I must
lose no time to desire your Grace would not acquaint his Majesty
that I have accepted the office of Secretary of State. But, if
his Majesty has already been acquainted with my acceptance of
it, your Grace will, I hope, tell his Majesty that I purpose,
with the utmost submission, to beg his Majesty’s leave to decline
it. It is impossible his Majesty could think of raising me to
so exalted a station, but with a design that I should, with and
under your Grace, have the management of his affairs in the House
of Commons. This was the whole tenour of your Grace’s messages
by Lord Hartington, which, in your Grace’s conference with Lord
Hartington and me yesterday morning, and with Lord Hartington
last night, have been totally contradicted. Unable, therefore,
to answer what, I dare say, is his Majesty’s expectation (though
your Grace has frankly declared it not to be yours), that I
should be answerable for his Majesty’s affairs in the House of
Commons, I beg leave to remain where I am, heartily wishing
success to his Majesty’s affairs, and contributing all that shall
be in the power of a single man towards it. I am, &c.
On 16th, Fox saw the King. The former said, with humility, that in
seven years he had never presumed to enter first on other affairs
than of his province. The King interrupted him, “It was a great
place I designed for you; I thought I did much for you; many Dukes
have had it.” Fox answered, “Sir, your Majesty has been told that
I asked for too much.” The King said, “You did; the Secret Service
money has never been in other hands than the person’s at the head
of the Treasury.” “Perhaps, Sir,” replied Fox, “I did ask too
much; but they were more in fault who promised and broke their
word: Lord Hartington is witness. I shall speak with truth, not
with modesty. I might be a great man in the House of Commons, if
I would be Secretary of State at the head of an Opposition--but
I prefer serving your Majesty as a private man, without seeing
the Duke of Newcastle. He promised me his confidence: I never can
believe him more. I am honest, he is not.” The King concluded, “I
know it cannot be made up; you are not apt to depart from your
resolution--it is a great office! but I have learned _nemini
obtrudere beneficium_.”
The triumphant Duke having disabled Fox, and being possessed of
Murray, or rather the agent of power for him, had little trouble
with the remaining competitor. Sir George Lyttelton, whose warmest
prayer was to go to heaven in a Coronet, undertook to be factor
for his friends. Unauthorized, he answered for Pitt’s acquiescence
under the new plan. He obtained a great employment for himself,
overlooked Lord Temple, and if he stipulated without commission for
George Grenville, at least it was for a preferment, large beyond
the latter’s most possible presumption.
All impediments thus removed, Newcastle obtained his full list of
preferments; and the rest of the month was employed in forming
and establishing his new court. Legge, as has been said, was made
Chancellor of the Exchequer--unwillingly: he preferred his own more
profitable place, less obnoxious to danger and envy. The meanness
of his appearance, and the quaintness of his dialect, made him as
improper for it as unwilling. Sandys’s solemn dulness had made men
regret Sir Robert Walpole’s cheerful dignity: Legge’s arch gravity
struck no impression after Mr. Pelham’s peevish authority: men had
no notion of an epigrammatic Chancellor of the Exchequer. Lord
Barnard, Lord Duplin, and Nugent composed the rest of the Treasury.
George Grenville succeeded Legge as Treasurer of the Navy. Sir
George Lyttelton was made Cofferer; Lord Hilsborough Comptroller of
the Household, and Lord Barrington Master of the Great Wardrobe, in
the room of Sir Thomas Robinson, who, to give some relief to Lord
Holderness, and no possibility of umbrage to the fretful Duke, was
nominated to the Seals, which Mr. Fox had declined.
Sir Thomas had been bred in German Courts, and was rather restored
than naturalized to the genius of that country: he had German
honour, loved German politics, and could explain himself as little
as if he spoke only German. He might have remained in obscurity,
if the Duke of Newcastle’s necessity of employing men of talents
inferior even to his own, and his alacrity in discovering persons
so qualified, had not dragged poor Sir Thomas into light and
ridicule; yet, if the Duke had _intended_ to please his master, he
could not have succeeded more happily than by presenting him with
so congenial a servant: the King, with such a Secretary in his
closet, felt himself in the very Elysium of Herenhausen!
The Chancellor’s sincerity and services were crowned with an
Earldom; but, as Roman Consuls in the very car of Victory were
coupled with a slave, to remind them of their mortality, Harry
Vane (lately become Lord Barnard by the death of his father,) was
created Earl of Darlington at the same hour.
While England was re-settling into a calm, the troubles continued
in Ireland. A dangerous tumult was raised at the theatre; the
audience called for a repetition of these lines in a translation of
Voltaire’s Mahomet:
---- if, ye powers divine,
Ye mark the movements of this nether world,
And bring them to account; crush, crush these vipers,
Who, singled out by a community
To guard their rights, shall, for a grasp of ore,
Or paltry office, sell them to the foe.
Diggs, the actor, refused, by order of Sheridan, the manager, to
repeat them: Sheridan would not even appear on the stage to justify
the prohibition. In an instant, the audience demolished the inside
of the house, and reduced it to a shell. The Lord Mayor was sent
for; he said he was sick: the High-Constable; he was said to be out
of town. At the same time, the King issued the contested money by
his own authority; for, as the whole currency of Ireland does not
amount to above 500,000_l._, the specie in question was necessary
to carry on the circulation. The Castle wore so little a spirit of
pacification, that the Duke of Dorset wrote to press the disgrace
of the Speaker: but the English Ministry would have conjured down
the storm by pressing the Earl of Hertford to go Lord Deputy, when
the Duke of Dorset should return, which would have avoided the
ungracious renewal of the Primate’s share in the Regency. But this
was a most unwelcome measure, not to that Prelate only; Lord George
Sackville foresaw that Mr. Conway, a kind of contemporary rival,
and brother of Lord Hertford, would necessarily share the popular
merit of restoring tranquillity; and accordingly, as was supposed,
instigated the Irish Chancellor to write to England, that, if he
was to carry the Seals before Lord Hertford, he should desire to
come to England during that period. Not content with this, the Duke
himself wrote to prevent having Lord Hertford for Deputy. The Duke
of Newcastle and the Chancellor were much inclined to the pacific
method, but the faction of Stone and Murray prevailed, of whom the
latter always counselled authoritative measures. It was the Duke of
Newcastle’s turn to be bullied. As the latter had usurped England,
and the Duke of Argyle had wormed himself into the sole power in
Scotland, Dorset asserted and maintained his ascendant in Ireland.
The Speaker was removed, and Mr. Hill, uncle of Lord Hilsborough,
was made Chancellor of the Exchequer in his room. The Primate, the
Chancellor, and Lord Besborough, were constituted Lords Justices on
the Duke’s return to England.
On the 8th of April, the Chief-Justice Lee died: Sir Dudley Rider
succeeded him; Murray rose to Attorney-General, and Sir Richard
Loyd was made Solicitor. The same day the English Parliament
was dissolved; and on the 31st of the following month, the new
Parliament, chosen in the very spirit of the Pelhams, met and sat
for five or six days in order to pass one Bill, and constitute
their essence; for, by the Regency Bill, the last Parliament that
should sit in the life of the King, was to revive on his death;
and the new one was too acceptable to the Ministry, not to be
insured. Mr. Legge presided at the Cockpit meeting, for reading
the King’s Speech to the Court members. The little man lost his
temperance of spirit, and began to deceive himself into an opinion
of being a Minister: the Duke of Newcastle, as severe a monitor to
Ministers of their nothingness as the most moral preacher, and more
efficacious, soon shuffled him out of his dream of grandeur, and
having raised him as high as was necessary to his own views, took
an immediate turn of depressing and using him ill. At the Treasury
Board, the Duke gave papers cross him to Lord Duplin to read, and
even sent the latter into the city to negotiate the money affairs
for the Government. The obsequiousness of his creatures could not
exempt them from his Grace’s jealousy, as oft as he approached
them too near to his own person. Legge gave an artful turn to his
disgust, and vaunted to the Whigs that his want of favour was owing
to his refusal of acting in concert with Stone and Murray: “But
that would have been a stain,” said he, “which I thought no time
could wash away.”
Pitt came to town much in discontent: Newcastle asked him his
opinion of the new settlement: he declined answering; on being
pressed, he replied, “Your Grace will be surprised, but I think
Mr. Fox should have been at the head of the House of Commons.”
Their mutual discontents soon led Pitt and Fox to an explanation
on their situation, and on all who had endeavoured to inspire them
with jealousy. Pitt complained most of Mr. Pelham, who, he said,
had always deprecated, but always fomented their variance. The
Chancellor, ever since Pitt’s return, had falsely boasted to him of
having proposed him for Secretary of State.
The halcyon days of the new Administration soon began to be
overcast by foreign clouds. The pacific genius of the house of
Pelham was not unknown to France, and fell in very conveniently
with their plan of extensive empire. They had yielded to a peace
with us, only to recover breath, and to recoil with greater force
after a few years of recruited strength; yet even in the short
term lapsed since the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, they had not been
unactive. Complaisance in Europe was to cover encroachments in
both Indies. Mr. Pelham was willing to be the dupe. If the nation
demanded no redress, he would neither propose nor seek it. Redress
could be procured but by arms; armaments must be furnished by
money; money to be raised might create murmurs; opposition might
ensue--were national honour or interest worth hazarding that? And
having had the merit of lessening the National Debt, he had the
more justifiable and reasonable excuse of dreading to augment it
again, when it was still so burthensome. In the East Indies we had
lost Madras in the late war; and since the peace, under pretence
of the two nations engaging on different sides in support of two
contending Nabobs, hostilities had continued with various success.
During Mr. Pelham’s rapid decline of health, a small fleet had been
fitted out to protect a trade, which the numerous reinforcements
dispatched by the French East India Company, with equal countenance
from their Crown, had already rendered very precarious, indeed
desperate. In Africa, they debauched our Allies, erected forts,
and aimed at embracing the whole Gold Coast and Guinea trade. But
their attempts in America grew daily more open, more avowed, more
alarming, indeed extended to nothing less than by erecting a
chain of garrisons from Canada to the mouths of the Mississippi,
to back all our settlements, cut off our communication with the
Indians west of that river, and inclose and starve our universal
plantations and trade: it would not be necessary to invade them,
they would fall of course. The discussions left unsettled by the
precipitate peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and proposed to be adjusted
by those most ineffective of all negotiators, Commissaries, gave,
not a pretence, rather an invitation to the French, to dispatch
by force of arms the liquidation of an affair which might be
explained to their disadvantage. The fatal treaty of Utrecht had
left but too many of our interests in the West Indies problematic:
the impetuosity of Lord Bolingbroke to betray Europe left him no
moments, could inspire him with no zeal to assert our pretensions
in America. The rights of either nation, as adjudged by treaties
and mutual concessions, and more easily still to be defined by
their actual establishments, were capable of being made tolerably
clear: if explored to their source, they were mere pretensions in
both. The topic, striking as it is to a mind that can philosophise,
abstractedly from connexions with any particular country, is too
common to be enlarged upon.
A sea captain first spying a rock in the fifteenth century; perhaps
a cross, or a coat of arms set up to the view of a few miles of
coast by an adventurer, or even by a shipwrecked crew, gave the
first claims to Kings and archpirates over an unknown tract of
country. This transitory seizure sometimes obtained the venerable
confirmation of an old priest at Rome (who, a century or two
before, had in his infallibility pronounced that the existence
of such a country was impossible), or of a still more politic,
though not less interested Privy Council at home. Sometimes,
indeed, if the discoverers were conscientious, they made a legal
purchase to all eternity, of empires and posterity from a parcel
of naked natives, for a handful of glass beads and baubles.
Maryland, I think, was solemnly acquired at the extravagant rate
of a quantity of vermilion and Jew’s-harps: I don’t know whether
the authentic instrument may not be recorded in that Christian
depository the Court of Chancery. By means so holy, a few Princes,
who would be puzzled to produce a legitimate title to their own
dominions in Europe, were wafted into rights and prerogatives over
the boundless regions of America. Detachments were sent to take
possession of the new discoveries; they peopled the seaports, they
sprinkled themselves over the coasts, they enslaved or assisted the
wretched natives to butcher one another, instructed them in the
use of firearms, of brandy, and the New Testament, and at last,
by scattered extension of forts and colonies, they have met to
quarrel for the boundaries of Empires, of which they can neither
use nor occupy a twentieth part of the included territory.
What facilitated the enterprises of the French was the extreme
ignorance in which the English Court had kept themselves of the
affairs of America. That department is subjected to the Secretary
of State for the Southern Province, assisted by the Board of Trade.
That Board, during Sir Robert Walpole’s administration, had very
faultily been suffered to lapse almost into a sinecure; and during
all that period the Duke of Newcastle had been Secretary of State.
It would not be credited what reams of papers, representations,
memorials, petitions, from that quarter of the world lay mouldering
and unopened in his office. West Indian Governors could not come
within the sphere of his jealousy: nothing else merited or could
fix his mercurial inattention. He knew as little of the geography
of his province as of the state of it: when General Legonier hinted
some defence to him for Annapolis, he replied with his evasive
lisping hurry, “Annapolis, Annapolis! oh! yes, Annapolis must
be defended; to be sure, Annapolis should be defended--where is
Annapolis?” When the French invasions forced him to arouse a little
from this lethargy, he struggled to preserve his inactivity, by
ordering letters of the most abject and submissive import to be
written to our Governors, who pressed for instructions, nay, for
permission to defend themselves. Somewhat more of this will appear
hereafter. But if he sacrificed the dignity of the Crown with
one hand, he thought to exalt it with the other: the prerogative
was strained unwarrantably over the Assemblies: the instructions
to Sir Danvers Osborn, a new Governor of New York, seemed better
calculated for the latitude of Mexico and for a Spanish tribunal,
than for a free rich British Settlement, and in such opulence and
of such haughtiness, that suspicions had long[244] been conceived
of their meditating to throw off their dependence on their mother
country.
Lord Halifax, who now presided at the Board of Trade, and who,
among the concessions of the Pelhams, had wrenched much American
authority from the Secretary of State, was fond of power and
business, was jealous of his own and country’s honour, encouraged
and countenanced plans and lights for preserving and extending our
trade and dominion in that hemisphere, and as much as he could
counteracted the supineness of the Administration. Had the Rulers
of the State been as alert, the season was favourable; and uncommon
incidents threw occasions into their hands of dispelling the
dangers that hung over them from the French. Spain was revolved to
its true interest; the rudder of Bourbon no longer steered their
Court. The ambitious Queen Dowager, who by money, intrigues, and
by the prospect of her son Carlos’s succession, as the King was
likely to have no children, had preserved a potent faction in the
Ministry, was sinking into impotence of power, and saw all her
schemes blasted. Don Caravalho and Lancaster, the Prime Minister,
died in April this year: the Duke d’Huescar succeeded, and had
raised his friend General Wall to be Minister for Foreign Affairs.
It is not to be told with what regret the latter quitted England,
which had become his country as much by affection as by extraction.
He and the Duke were fortunately old Spaniards in principle, and
being obnoxious to, were consequently averse to, the Queen Dowager
and her French party. One of the first effects of this new Ministry
was the fall of Ensenada, the creature of the Queen Dowager. Sir
Benjamin Keene discovered, and imparted by the means of General
Wall to the King, that Ensenada had sent orders to their West
Indian Governors to fall on our ships, and had lent great sums
of the Royal treasure to the French East India Company. He was
disgraced, but with great lenity, and exiled to Granada.
While the Duke of Newcastle neglected such real opportunities of
popularity, he was entering into little details in the Treasury,
and threatened great reformations in trifles. The first abuses to
be moderated or rooted out were pensions and quarterings on places;
the former to gratify his Majesty, the latter to please public
opinion. This lasted a fortnight: to support his vain power, both
abuses were in his very second year, as will be seen, pushed to
enormity.
In August came news of the defeat of Major Washington in the Great
Meadows on the western borders of Virginia: a trifling action,
but remarkable[245] for giving date to the war. The encroachments
of the French have been already mentioned; but in May they had
proceeded to open hostilities. Major Washington with about fifty
men attacked one of their parties, and slew the commanding Officer.
In this skirmish he was supported by an Indian half king and
_twelve_ of his subjects, who in the Virginian accounts, is called
a very considerable Monarch. On the third of July, the French
being reinforced to the number of nine hundred, fell on Washington
in a small fort, which they took, but dismissed the Commander
with military honours, being willing, as they expressed it in the
capitulation, to show that they treated them like friends! In
the express which Major Washington dispatched on his preceding
little victory, he concluded with these words; “I heard the bullets
whistle, and believe me, there is something charming in the sound.”
On hearing of this letter, the King said sensibly, “He would not
say so, if he had been used to hear many.” However, this brave
braggart[246] learned to blush for his rodomontade, and desiring to
serve General Braddock as Aide-de-camp, acquitted himself nobly.
The violence of this proceeding gave a reverberation to the
stagnated politics of the Ministry: in a moment, the Duke of
Newcastle assumed the hero, and breathed nothing but military
operations: he and the Chancellor held Councils of War; none of the
Ministers, except Lord Holderness, were admitted within their tent.
They knew too well how proper the Duke was to be consulted: of
course they were jealous, and did not consult him. Instead of him,
they summoned one Gates,[247] a very young officer just returned
from Nova Scotia, and asked his advice. He was too sensible of
their absurdity, and replied, that he had never served but in Nova
Scotia, and it would be impertinent to give his opinion; he was
ready to answer any questions. They knew not what to ask. When
this lad would not be a Marshal, they next consulted one Hanbury,
a Quaker, and at his recommendation determined upon Sharpe, the
Governor of Virginia, for their General. They told the King he had
served all the last war, though he had never served, and that the
Duke had a good opinion of him: the Duke said, “So good, that if
Sharpe had been consulted, I am sure he would have refused.” We
must defer the history of the campaign till its proper season.
No other event happened before the meeting of the Parliament except
the decision of a famous cause. The inhabitants of Richmond and the
neighbouring gentlemen, even instigated underhand by the Duke of
Newcastle, had commenced a suit against Princess Amelie[248] for
the right and liberty of entering into New Park at their pleasure:
the case was this: Charles the First made the park, partly by
pecuniary, partly by compulsory methods, and gave great disgusts
by it. Queen Anne gave two or more lives in it to her relations,
the Hydes, who suffered it to run to great decay. When Sir Robert
Walpole became Minister, who was fond of hunting, and wanted
occasional retirement and exercise, he persuaded King George the
First to buy out the family of Hyde, and obtained the Rangership
for his eldest son, which was confirmed to him by the present
King for life. It was a bog, and a harbour for deer-stealers and
vagabonds. Sir Robert Walpole drained it, and expended great sums
upon it himself; but to obtain more privacy and security, he
took away the ladders on the walls, and shut up the gates, but
settled keepers at them, who were to open to all foot-passengers
in the daytime, and to such carriages as had tickets, which were
easily obtained. Princess Amelie succeeded his son Lord Orford,
but preserved no measures of popularity. Her brother William had
incredibly disgusted the neighbourhood of Windsor by excluding them
from most of the benefits of the park there. The Princess entirely
shut up New Park, except by giving very few tickets. Petitions were
presented to her; she would not receive them. They were printed
in the public Newspapers, but had as little effect. Subscriptions
were formed, conferences were held to no purpose. At last the cause
was brought to a trial. Sir John Philipps and the younger Beckford
presented themselves as tribunes of the people to plead the cause,
but instead of influencing the Court, they confounded the rest of
their Council. The Princess carried her cause.[249]
The children of the Crown in England have no landed appanages:
they naturally covet them: Rangerships for lives are the only
territories the King has to bestow. Both the Duke and his sister
entered more easily into the spirit of prerogative than was decent
in a family brought hither for the security of liberty. To shut
up Windsor or Richmond parks, if the law permits, is no violation
of the constitution; but when Princes of the Blood (and the race
is likely to be numerous) come to stand suits for exclusive
privileges, it is easy to foresee into what excesses their ambition
or their necessities may make them slide.
Nov. 14th.--The Parliament met. The King’s speech endeavoured to
inculcate notions of tranquillity, yet with preserving a salvo for
demanding supplies hereafter, by just hinting at the preservation
of our rights in America. Sir George Lee, who moved the Address
in the Commons, spoke plainly on Spain’s having given orders for
restoring our ships. Mr. Conway, who seconded him, went a little
farther, and descanted on the increase of France. Potter ridiculed
Ministerial Addresses well; called them the late lullabies that
always acquainted us with the disposition of all the European
powers to preserve the peace--but France indeed had spoiled that
part of the speech for this year: yet he would agree to the
Address, and consider measures hereafter. The Ministers did not
know which should act Minister for the day: at last Murray pushed
up Legge, who said a few words without dignity; the tenour and
point of which was that our conduct was to be _fortiter in re,
suaviter in modo_. Beckford said, that we had had such an order
for restitution from Spain two years ago; and therefore he should
not trust to this. That the marine and colonies of France had
not increased in proportion to ours. That we should exert naval
strength instead of alliances. With those great alliances in the
last war we had run thirty millions in debt. Queen Elizabeth, in
her distress, did not go about begging and buying alliances.
Mr. Conway replied in a few words elegantly, that Beckford had
mistaken him; that he had not said that the colonies of France
had increased in proportion to ours, but along with their landed
power in Europe; however, that he was far from not thinking them
very formidable in America; for, if we considered their extent of
country along the rivers and lakes, it was like a net, which, if
drawn a little tighter, might shuffle us into the sea. Lord Egmont,
who always larded, or composed his speeches with speculative
topics of government, went back to the Revolution, which, he
said, was Rebellion, if anything more than restitution of the old
constitution. That he would not oppose the Address, because we
wanted unanimity, but that too languid a spirit prevailed. That it
was thought so necessary to keep peace in the Administration, that
we dared not take great steps: yet now was the time, when the House
was no longer under any ministerial influence: however, we must
take care not to provoke France, when part of the King’s dominions
(Ireland) was so discontented. Murray observed, that the new
members must wonder at a Debate without a question or opposition:
but, said he, how will all this be represented abroad? to Spain,
that we don’t believe their offers: to Germany, that we would shake
off all our Allies: to France, that we reckon the peace broken; and
that we make no distinction between our rights and our possessions.
For the Colonies, he believed they would sacrifice everything
rather than submit to France: yet was it judicious in Lord Egmont
to throw out notions of discontents? The Address passed without a
negative.
About this time came unwelcome news to the King: his son-in-law,
Frederic, Hereditary Prince of Hesse Cassel, was discovered to be
turned Papist. He was a brutal German, obstinate, of no genius, and
after long treating Princess Mary, who was the mildest and gentlest
of her race, with great inhumanity, had for some time lived upon
no terms with her: his father, the Landgrave William, protected
her: an arbitrary, artful man, of no reputation for integrity. The
hereditary Prince was devoted to France and Prussia. It was not
an age when conversions were common; nor were his morals strict
enough to countenance any pretence to scruples; it was necessary
to recur to private or political reasons for his change, and, from
what has been said, it appears in what numbers they presented
themselves. Yet even the King of Prussia acted zeal for the
Protestant cause. The Landgrave was as outrageous as if he felt for
it too. No obstructions being offered by the Catholic powers, the
Landgrave and States, with the concurrence of the King, enacted
heavy restrictions on the Prince, whenever he should succeed his
father.
The scene began to darken at home. As the Duke of Newcastle
had secured by employments almost every material speaker in
Parliament, it was hoped that the session would be amused, and
pass off with regulating controverted elections: there was one of
much expectation. The majority in all late Parliaments, and still
more in this devoted one, had been composed solely from boroughs:
counties were too extensive to be ventured upon in the way of
expense, and had been left to their own ill humours, and to the
country gentlemen: Oxfordshire in particular had long been a little
kingdom of Jacobitism. The Duke of Marlborough, prodigal, and never
judicious in his extravagance, would not content himself with the
offer made to him by the county, of electing his son as soon as he
should be of age: he determined to choose both representatives
from his own party. Mr. Pelham had received the proposal with joy:
that Duke was led by Fox: if the contest succeeded, Mr. Pelham
would command two more members; if it miscarried, Fox and the Duke
of Marlborough would labour under all the unpopularity. After
unbounded expense, the four candidates were all returned, and the
House was to decide on the merits, which must take up several weeks.
There was another election depending, of still nicer discussion;
that of Mitchell, in Cornwall. Lord Sandwich had long dictated
there, upon the interest of his nephew, Courtney, a minor. The
Duke of Newcastle had now encouraged the Boscawens and Edgcumbes
to oppose him. Lord Sandwich secured the returning officer, but
a petition was lodged against his members. Fox, who sought all
opportunities, where the King’s name could not be pretended,
of crossing the Duke of Newcastle, warmly and openly espoused
Lord Sandwich. Pitt, as ill disposed, was neuter in this; but in
the Reading election pretended connexions with Lord Fane, Lord
Sandwich’s brother-in-law, and declared on the same side. In this
temper the Parliament had opened; and Pitt, who, though ready to
give words in change, was not a man to take them, had already come
to some explanation with the Duke of Newcastle, and had even said
to him, “Fewer words, my Lord, if you please, for your words have
long lost all weight with me.”
21st.--A day was to be appointed for hearing the Mitchell election:
Lord Sandwich, who tried to defer its being heard, was beat with
127 by 154.
25th.--Another petition being in agitation, the House thin and
idle, a younger Delaval had spoken pompously and abusively against
the petitioner, and had thrown the House into a laughter on the
topics of bribery and corruption. Pitt, who was in the gallery,
started, and came down with impetuosity, and with all his former
fire said, “He had asked what occasioned such an uproar; lamented
to hear a laugh on such a subject as bribery! Did we try _within_
the House to diminish our own dignity, when such attacks were made
upon it from without? that it was almost lost! that it wanted
support! that it had long been vanishing! scarce possible to
recover it! that he hoped the Speaker would extend a saving hand to
raise it: he could only restore it--yet scarce he! He called on all
to assist, or else _we should only sit to register the arbitrary
edicts of One too powerful a subject_!” This thunderbolt, thrown
in a sky so long serene, confounded the audience. Murray crouched,
silent and terrified. Legge scarce rose to say with great humility,
“That he had been raised solely by the Whigs, and if he fell
sooner or later, he should pride himself in nothing but in being a
Whig.”
The evening of this novel day was still more tempestuous. The
Committee of Elections opened. Mr. Gray, a steady but plausible
Tory, favoured by the Chancellor and Sir George Lyttelton, desired
to have the petition against him from Colchester deferred, till
it was sure of being heard. Sir Thomas Robinson said, “That might
be soon, for the Reading election, which was to precede it, could
not last long; there was but a majority of one vote for Lord Fane,
and it was a poor cause.” Pitt sprung up, and attacked Sir Thomas
fiercely; told him how ignorant he was to talk in that style of
a cause unheard; that he was not to be thus taught his duty by
any man; but if the first officer in the State could make so
gross a supposition, there would be short work with elections: he
never thought to see so melancholy a day! Sir Thomas replied with
pomp, confusion, and warmth, that spirit should be shown: could
gentlemen, could merchants, could the House bear, if eloquence
alone was to carry it? he hoped words only would not prevail! that
for himself, he executed an office, of which he had never been
ambitious. Pitt replied with cool art, and showed that he had only
aimed the stroke at the Duke of Newcastle, through Sir Thomas, to
whom he now spoke with respect, and with esteem of his integrity;
adding, _that he thought him as able as any man that had of late
years filled that office, or was likely to fill it_. The weapons
that Pitt laid down Fox took up, and exercised them with still
more inveteracy and warmth on poor Sir Thomas and his ignorance:
“If one of the greatest men in the House pronounced it a poor
cause, it would indeed be a poor cause; but he imputed it to his
inexperience: he was the first great man, and he hoped would be the
last, that ever pronounced so on a cause unheard!” It was plain
that Pitt and Fox were impatient of any superior; and as plain by
the complexion and murmurs of the House in support of Sir Thomas
Robinson, that the inclinations of the members favoured neither of
them.
27th.--The Committee sat on the Army, late but without a division;
and in general the Debate was dull: the subject had long been
exhausted, and during the former Opposition had been a constant
day for teaching young and callow orators to soar. The younger
Beckford, who had been announced for a genius, and had laid a
foundation for being so, by studying magazines and historical
registers, made a tedious harangue against standing armies; and
moved for 15,000 men, instead of the old number of 18,800. Lord
Barrington answered him well, and told him how little difference it
would make to the constitution; if eighteen thousand intended to
overturn it, fifteen might. That none of the usual number could be
spared; from whence could they? The licentiousness of the capital,
the mutinous miners and colliers, the smugglers, the destroyers
of turnpikes, all the outlaws that increase of riches and licence
produces and encourages, all were to be kept in awe. And so far
from soldiers being a burthen, the country rejoices in being
under their protection. That instead of squabbling for trifles,
everybody should unite at this conjuncture to make the late great
man as little missed as possible. That the great men he has left
will show spirit; and spirit never brought on a war. His Majesty
has the hearts of the people, of all who can feel gratitude or the
benefits of their own situation. The Ministry have popularity, and
it must be owing to Beckford’s absence in Jamaica, that he did
not know that the period which he had wished to see of a popular
King and Administration, was actually arrived--but perhaps Jamaica
Newspapers were as faulty as our own. Fox told the elder Beckford,
that if he was Sheriff next year, he hoped he would not keep the
resolution he had declared, of not calling in the military, if they
are wanted: and added, that the soldiers behave so discreetly,
that in eight years that he had been Secretary at War, he had not
received three complaints in a year, even from innkeepers.
Nugent added in reply to Beckford (who had said that the Opposition
were Whigs and the Ministry Tories,) that he hoped he had not
taken his idea of Whigs from those who refused King William his
Dutch troops: if he had, he did not wonder that he mistook the
Ministers for Tories. He applied the old apologue of the hen
and ducklings; and then flew out into this gross and barefaced
strain, _that there did not exist an honester man than the Duke
of Newcastle!_ professing that he should be the most crouching
slave if he meant this for flattery. Pitt, only smiling at this
Drawcansir in adulation, and bent to pursue the humiliation of
Murray, said that the moderation of the Estimate was a proof of the
Crown’s attention to economy; but he could by no means agree in
our opulence, and would recommend it to gentlemen not to deceive
themselves or others. We are in reality a distressed people: he
hated declamation, and was as little given to anger, but nothing
should hinder him from asserting what he felt, and from averring
what he knew. Young members may allow too much to what is spoken
in that place: when anybody says he don’t believe that Jacobitism
exists, he would tell him to his face he did not believe what he
said. Nugent called him to order.
Pitt was a little disconcerted, but resuming himself said, “For the
nursing mother, the hen, he had been bred under such an one,[250]
and he would tell the House what she had been doing for these
twenty years; she had been raising a succession of treason--there
never was such a seminary! but he would throw himself into the
gap, and would as cheerfully make his protest alone, as in the
most applauding assembly. He knew what he was; he knew what he
would be; and was too cool not to know what he said. That the body
he meant (Oxford) was learned and respectable: so much the more
dangerous! he would mention what had happened to himself the last
summer on a party of pleasure thither. They were at the window of
the Angel Inn; a lady was desired to sing _God save great George
our King!_ The chorus was re-echoed by a set of young lads drinking
at a college over the way, but with additions of rank treason. He
hoped, as they were lads, he should be excused from not having
taken more notice of it. After this, walking down the High Street,
in a Bookseller’s shop he observed a print of a young Highlander
with a blue ribbon: the Bookseller, thinking he wanted to buy it,
held it out to him--but what was the motto!--_hunc saltem everso
Juvenem!_--This was the prayer of that learned body--for it was in
Latin!” Colours, much less words, could not paint the confusion
and agitation that worked in Murray’s face during this almost
apostrophe! his countenance spoke everything that Fawcett had been
terrified to prevaricate away.
Two days after this, an incident happened of a private nature,
scarce worth mentioning, but as it served to dissolve the remains
of so historic a friendship as that of Mr. Pitt and Sir George
Lyttelton, and brought out all the colours of some remarkable
characters. Mr. Conway was repeating with concern to the younger
Walpole the lamentations of Sir George on Mr. Pitt’s coldness[251]
and his own apprehensions that the complexion of the times denoted
new troubles. Walpole, who had not so pacific a disposition, but
whose passion to see a new Opposition had been considerably damped
by Mr. Fox’s acquiescence under the Duke of Newcastle’s sole power,
and who loved Mr. Conway enough to sacrifice to his love of peace,
when he had little prospect of gratifying his own love of party,
owned to him carelessly, that he knew the Duke of Bedford had a
propensity to reconcile himself to the Court, that the Duchess and
her friends were eager for it, and gave Mr. Conway leave to talk
it over with Sir George Lyttelton, if by any means they could
make use of this disposition to reconcile the growing humours. It
was singular, that Horace Walpole, who had so eagerly attacked the
promotion both of Pitt and Lyttelton, should, in the most distant
manner, negotiate their re-union. However, on reflection (for it
is certain that he had dropped this discourse without any), he
recollected, that it was not acting handsomely by Mr. Fox, who
at least was out of humour, to throw new strength into the Duke
of Newcastle; and accordingly went to Mr. Conway to retract the
permission he had given, and to desire no mention might be made of
what had passed in their conversation--but how was he surprised to
meet Mr. Conway coming to him in the greatest anxiety, and begging
his pardon, for what indeed Mr. Conway was not to blame.
In short, Sir George Lyttelton, who had before professed to Mr.
Conway a resolution of quitting his employment, unless he could
hold it with Mr. Pitt’s good opinion, had been so struck with the
first idea of what he heard of the Duke of Bedford, and saw such
an opening to favour by transacting the treaty, that instead of
consulting with, or leaving it to Mr. Conway’s coolness or fitness
to chalk out the path of negotiation, he hurried to Newcastle
House, and whispered his intelligence. Newcastle said, with his
usual hurry, “My dear Sir George, there is nothing I would not
give to accomplish such a reconciliation.” Sir George, accepting
this declaration as full powers, and forgetting at once that he was
aggravating his breach of friendship with Mr. Pitt, and that of all
men living he was the most improper to transact with the Duke of
Bedford on so nice a point, having quitted him for Newcastle, and
being involved in a private family quarrel with him too, posted
away to Bedford House, demanded an audience, took no measures to
soften the abruptness of his commission, but at once told that
Duke, that he understood his Grace was a little mollified, and in
the Duke of Newcastle’s name, offered him _charte blanche_.--How
was the volunteer Ambassador astonished at a flat refusal! The hot
little Duke was transported with the importance this gave him; and
notwithstanding the solicitation of the Duchess and his Court,
whose measures were all overset by Lyttelton’s awkward policy, the
Duke immediately sent for Mr. Pitt, and communicated the message.
Pitt flattered his steady virtue and disinterestedness, and broke
openly with Sir George, who was first disavowed by the Duke of
Newcastle, and then disavowed his own having gone so far as he had
done. Horace Walpole, who would have had art indeed, had he planned
and foreseen how the event would blow up the six months’ labour of
the pacific part of Bedford House, but who had acted merely from
inadvertence, laughed and confirmed the Duke of Bedford in his
highest opinion of his own importance and steady virtue.
The late impetuous and joint attack on Sir Thomas Robinson had
alarmed his principal: the Duke of Newcastle saw his mighty power
totter; yet he could not determine to share it. The first thought
was to dismiss Pitt. This was too bold a measure to have the
preference long: the next, more natural, was to try to sweeten Fox:
accordingly, on the morning of the 29th, the King sent for Fox, and
reproached him for concurring to worry Sir Thomas Robinson, and
asked him if he had united with Pitt to oppose his measures? Fox
assured him he had not, and that he had given him his honour he
would resign first. “Then,” said the King, “will you stand up and
carry on my measures in the House of Commons, as you can do, with
spirit?” Fox replied, “I must know, Sir, what means I shall have,
or I cannot answer for what I cannot answer.” “It will be better
for you,” said the King; “you shall have favour, advantage, and
confidence”--but would not explain particulars, only asking, if he
would go to the Duke of Newcastle. “I must, if you command me,”
answered Fox, “go and say I have forgot everything.” “No,” replied
the King: “I have a good opinion of you; you have abilities and
honesty, but you are too warm. I will send a common friend, Lord
Waldegrave.” He told him too, “I have obligations to you that I
never mentioned; my son (the Prince) tried you, and you would not
join him; and yet you made no merit of it to me.”
The negotiation was entrusted to Lord Waldegrave: Stone, probably
from perceiving that Murray dared not undertake the rudder of the
House of Commons, promoted the treaty--and did himself no service
with the Princess, who prevailed on Lord Egmont to accept, and on
the King to offer him an employment. The Junto, who had laboured to
keep Pitt and Fox disunited, more than to secure either of them,
were reduced to take the one or the other. The Chancellor had
discovered so much of the secret of his breast, as to ask Pitt,
“Could you bear to act _under_ Fox?” Pitt replied, “My Lord, leave
out _under_; it will never be a word between us; Mr. Fox and I
shall never quarrel.” Originally, Pitt had assured the Chancellor
and the Duke of Newcastle that he would not unite with Fox. When
he saw that to promote division was their only drift, he sought
heartily and sincerely to league with Fox, and told him that they
had _formalized_ at his professions.
Fox, irresolute, affecting content, borne down by the Duke from
opposition, and aspiring at sole power, conferred with Pitt, but
would not enter into real measures. The King proposed that Fox
should write his demands: he asked for time, waiting to see what
should be their decision on Pitt, who set them at defiance. The
Duke of Marlborough proposed to Fox, to limit his demands to
a Cabinet-Counsellor’s place, “For,” said he, “you don’t mind
money.” The Duke of Cumberland disapproved the advice: “The King,”
said his Royal Highness, “could do better and more sensibly
than he will, but he will do just as the Duke of Newcastle bids
him. He has a good memory; he will remember this; and when he
sees a proper occasion, perhaps some years hence, he will tell
you you did right--but he will never tell you so till he sees
that occasion. I don’t know him, but by what you tell me, Pitt
is, what is scarce--he is a man. If they should give you this
Cabinet-Counsellor’s place, and Pitt should hereafter attack the
Duke of Newcastle, and you should not defend him, they will say you
have broke your word.”
The Duke of Marlborough persisted, but advised Fox to add, that he
would not oppose Pitt. The Duke approved it with this modification.
Fox drew the letter, and showed it to Pitt, who liked it, provided
some words were omitted; “For,” said he, “if they give a hint to
invention that I would do the least thing to keep my place, it
would hurt me beyond measure.” The letter thanked the King for his
goodness, and said, that understanding what his Majesty, who was
determined to have no Minister at the head of the House of Commons,
required, was, that he (Fox) should act there with spirit, not
only in his private but public capacity, he, coveting no lucrative
employment, wished only for a feather, to show that his Majesty had
done him the honour to ask his assistance. Cabinet-Counsellor was
not specified, but was construed to be meant, by Lord Waldegrave,
who delivered the letter, and who explained to the King, that Fox
would never accept Pitt’s place, that it might not be objected to
him at his re-election, and that Pitt might not say he answered
him for money. He was ready to act _under_ Sir Thomas Robinson,
“For,” said Fox, laughing, “what is acting under _him_? if there
is a meeting of the Council, it will be his paper and pens and his
green table: if we both rise to speak, I will yield to him.” Lord
Waldegrave added, that if Fox answered Pitt, it should always be
in defence of the measures, but with particular civility. These
qualifications were accepted, and the dignity of Cabinet-Counsellor
granted a few days afterwards. Yet Fox, on receiving it, privately
forswore all connexion with Pitt. As the latter came to the
knowledge of that secret abjuration, and as it was so much the
interest of men so little scrupulous of treachery as the Chancellor
and the Duke of Newcastle, to have Pitt apprized of it, it is
neither refining nor uncharitable to suspect who divulged it.
The Mutiny Bill coming on, Mr. Fox had showed Lord Egmont a
new clause for subjecting the American regiments to English
discipline. He took it as gravely as if he were still to oppose,
though it was public that he was to succeed the superannuated Lord
Fitzwalter, as Treasurer of the Household, and, as he himself had
said, by special command of the Princess. The first day he did not
attend. December 11th, Oswald and Henley spoke for the clause:
Lord Egmont, struck with the old sounds, and forgetting his new
engagements, could not resist the impulse of haranguing against a
Mutiny Bill. He rose, and spoke on his ancient topics of military
law, of massacre and butchery, and of all he had foretold, and
said, that everybody must be sensible that, in the situation he
stood, he must have had grievances brought to him from every part
of the known world; and talked much on the old constitution, the
feudal law, and prerogative. Pitt spoke after him, but gently,
and not well; Lord George Sackville well. Charles Townshend (who
had ambitioned the Treasury on the late settlement, had stuck
out for some time, and had then accepted the Admiralty), hurt at
a new promotion over his head, started up, and not considering
how indecent it was in him, a little Minister, to discourage
renegades, fell with warmth and insolence and eloquence on Lord
Egmont; pointed out the ridicule of a popular tribune speaking for
prerogative, and against revolution principles; then panegyrized
the Board of Trade, defended all their acts, even the instructions
to Sir Danvers Osborn; and, turning again to Lord Egmont, bade him
take the poor American by the hand, and point out his grievances;
his Lordship was able, and used to be willing to bring out
grievances; he had threatened he would; yet he defied him--if that
would not do, he beseeched him--to point out one grievance; for
his part, he did not know of one; he should be glad to learn why
his Lordship did not intend to mention one _now_: and then, in the
most provoking manner, and in terms most intelligible, he attacked
him on the place he was going to accept. Lord Egmont was abashed,
replied with confusion, said he might state grievances hereafter,
but hoped things were going to be redressed. He was over-powered
by the attack, and excused himself from accepting the promised
employment.
At the conclusion of the year deceased two men in great offices,
whose deaths made remarked what their lives might have done;
how little they were worthy of their exaltation. The one, Lord
Gower, Lord Privy Seal, had indeed a large fortune, and commanded
boroughs. Lord Albemarle, the other, died suddenly at Paris, where
his mistress sold him to that Court. Yet the French Ministry had
little to vaunt; while they were purchasing the instructions of
our Embassador, attentive only to acquire the emptiest of their
accomplishments, they employed at our Court a man too empty
to learn even the dullest of ours. Lord Albemarle made great
proficience in the study of their manners, while Monsieur de
Mirepoix could not learn even to pronounce the names of one or two
of our games at cards, which, however, engaged most of the hours of
his negotiation. Our Colonies were to be protected by the copy of a
_Petit Maitre_; we were to be bullied out of them by an apprentice
to whist! How serious a science, Politics!
FOOTNOTES:
[240] The Duke of Newcastle. This was written in 1756.
[241] Expression of Shakspeare in the Tempest, in one of the scenes
of sailors.
[242] In the reign of George the First.
[243] [There are no traces of this in Mr. Fox’s papers. On the
contrary, he and Sir Charles continued intimate friends till the
illness and death of the latter.]--E.
[244] [If as the Author asserts, this was written at the time, it
is a very remarkable passage.]--E.
[245] And as remarkable for being the first action in which
Washington was mentioned, who near thirty years afterwards became
the principal figure in America.
[246] [It is wonderful that Lord Orford should have allowed this
expression to remain after he had lived to witness and admire the
subsequent career of that great man, General Washington.]--E.
[247] This young man also was afterwards a considerable person in
America.
[248] His Grace had formerly pretended to be in love with Princess
Emily, but hated her now, on her connexion with her brother, the
Duke, and the Bedfords.
[249] She carried her cause against a road for coaches and carts,
but some few years afterwards lost a suit commenced against her for
a footway, on which she abandoned the park.
[250] Oxford.
[251] Pitt and Lord Temple resented Lyttelton’s negotiating for
them, though it is certain he had used all his endeavours to serve
them--but as they had meant to have the sole power of serving, not
to be served, they treated him as ill as if he had sold them.
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
B.
(_Vide page 9._)
_Constitutional Queries, earnestly recommended to the serious
Consideration of every true Briton, dispersed in 1751, and
ascribed to Lord Egmont._
Whether this capital may not be beset with troops, under such
orders and commands, as may render the power of King, Lords, and
Commons precarious; and subject our liberties, property, and laws,
once more, to a military regulation?
Whether, if alarm posts should be appointed, places of rendezvous
assigned, officers have the word, not to be absent, though on no
duty, without express leave, and to hold themselves in readiness
on a moment’s warning, such regulations in time of peace would not
have a martial air, by no means becoming the freedom of a British
constitution?
Whether disgracing or dismissing old officers, men of family, men
of property, in order to make way for the promotion of boys,
slaves, and beggars, would not be such a garbling of the Army, as
might furnish very melancholy apprehensions of its destination?
Whether such terrifying dispositions ought not to alarm a free
people; and might not with too much reason induce them to
apprehend, that the time was approaching when some _important blow
was to be struck_?
Whether, if a _younger_ son of the Crown should ever be invested
with absolute power over such an Army; and, at the same time, by
a factious connexion, make himself master of the Fleet, our lives
and fortunes might not be dependent on his will and pleasure, and
the _Right of Succession_ have no other security than his want of
ambition?
Whether adding to this dangerous degree of power the sole
direction of affairs in the Cabinet likewise, might not give him
such a dictatorial authority as would enable him to expel from
his father’s Council and person every moderate Minister, true
Englishman, and old servant of the Crown, who, though perhaps
unable to prevent, might in some measure delay, the execution of
his designs?
Whether, during the time of peace, experiment has not been actually
made in one part of this country (now under the cloud of prejudice)
how far an army may be depended on in usurping a dominion over law?
Whether, if in any country express and positive orders should
be generally and circularly given by authority to the troops to
execute the law, to seize and imprison the persons of the subjects,
upon such information as they should think sufficient, without the
concurrence of the civil power, such country might not be deemed
under a direct military government in its rankest form?
Whether a successful attempt in one part of a country would not
furnish sanguine hopes of reducing the remaining part to the like
unconstitutional dominion?
Whether the omnipotence of a commander, joined with the faction,
stupidity, and corruption of the times, might not be able to stifle
and baffle all regular proof of such notorious acts of arbitrary
and tremendous power?
Whether it might not be prudent to reflect on the fatal instances
of John of Lancaster and crook-backed Richard?
Whether an abused K---- and kingdom, liberty, property, and the
laws, do not all concur to inspire this timely invocation?
GOD PRESERVE THE SUCCESSION.
C.
(_Vide page 31._)
_The following Queries are humbly offered to the serious
consideration of every True Englishman._
Whether it has not strongly appeared by the late conduct of the
House of Commons, that they are more eager and industrious to
create and to foment the spirit of party and sedition, than to
promote the liberty and happiness of the people?
Whether the leaders of the House have not by open force, as well as
private fraud, endeavoured to weaken and reduce even the appearance
of a free constitution?
Whether, in the case of Mr. Murray, the House of Commons did not
assume a power they had no just right to?
Whether they did not proceed throughout in a most illegal,
unconstitutional, unprecedented manner?
Whether they did not try him upon an accusation they knew to be
false, scandalous, and groundless?
Whether they did not condemn him in defiance of all law, and in the
most open violation of justice?
Whether their proceedings have not made a dangerous encroachment
upon the freedom and independency of the British people, as well
as brought a lasting dishonour upon the British Parliament?
Whether their daily conduct does not tend, instead of remedying the
distractions of a jarring people, to throw them into a continued
confusion, and to make resentment and rebellion become habitual to
Britain?
Whether there is not reason to expect that we shall soon be
deprived of the most valuable right a British subject can enjoy,
the right of election?
Whether we are not bound upon the most conscientious motives by any
means in our power to defend it?
Can we patiently look upon these fresh endeavours to abuse and to
divide the nation? can we patiently bear fresh loads of oppression
multiplied without measure, and extended without limitation?
D.
(_Vide page 77._)
This song was written immediately after the loss of the battle
of Fontenoy, and was addressed to Lady Catherine Hanmer, Lady
Falconberg, and Lady Middlesex, who were to act the three goddesses
with Frederick Prince of Wales, in the Judgment of Paris, whom he
was to represent, and Prince Lobkowitz, Mercury.
SONG,
BY FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES.
1.
Venez, mes cheres Deesses,
Venez, calmer mon chagrin;
Aidez, mes belles Princesses,
A le noyer dans le vin.
Poussons cette douce ivresse
Jusqu’au milieu de la nuit,
Et n’écoutons que la tendresse
D’un charmant vis-à-vis.
2.
Quand le chagrin me devore,
Vite à table je me mets,
Loin des objêts que j’abhorre,
Avec joie j’y trouve la paix.
Peu d’amis, restes d’un naufrage,
Je rassemble autour de moi,
Et je me ris de l’étalage
Qu’a chez lui toujours un Roi.
3.
Que m’importe que l’Europe
Ait un ou plusieurs tyrans?
Prions seulement Calliope
Qu’elle inspire nos vers, nos chants.
Laissons Mars et toute la gloire,
Livrons nous tous à l’amour;
Que Bacchus nous donne à boire;
A ces deux faisons la cour.
4.
Passons ainsi notre vie,
Sans rêver à ce qui suit;
Avec ma chere Silvie[252]
Le tems trop vite me fuit.
Mais si par un malheur extreme,
Je perdois cet objêt charmant;
Oui, cette compagnie même
Ne me tiendroit un moment.
5.
Me livrant à ma tristesse,
Toujours plein de mon chagrin,
Je n’aurois plus d’allegresse
Pour mettre Bathurst[253] en train.
Ainsi pour vous tenir en joie,
Invoquez toujours les Dieux,
Qu’elle vive et qu’elle soit
Avec nous toujours heureux.
E.
(_Vide page 77._)
SONG.
THE CHARMS OF SYLVIA.
BY THE PRINCE OF WALES ON THE PRINCESS.
’Tis not the liquid brightness of those eyes,
That swim with pleasure and delight,
Nor those heavenly arches which arise
O’er each of them to shade their light:
’Tis not that hair which plays with every wind,
And loves to wanton round thy face;
Now straying round the forehead, now behind
Retiring with insidious grace:
’Tis not that lovely range of teeth so white,
As new-shorn sheep equal and fair;
Nor e’en that gentle smile, the heart’s delight,
With which no smile could e’er compare:
’Tis not that chin so round, that neck so fine,
Those breasts that swell to meet my love,
That easy sloping waist, that form divine,
Nor ought below, nor ought above:
’Tis not the living colours over each
By nature’s finest pencil wrought,
To shame the full-blown rose, and blooming peach,
And mock the happy painter’s thought:
No[254]--’tis that gentleness of mind, that love
So kindly answering my desire;
That grace with which you look, and speak, and move,
That thus has set my soul on fire.
(_Vide page 78._)
The elegy alluded to was probably the effusion of some Jacobite
royalist. That faction could not forgive the Duke of Cumberland
his excesses, or successes, in Scotland; and not content with
branding the Parliamentary Government of the House of Brunswick
as usurpation, indulged in frequent, unfeeling, and scurrilous
personalities on every branch of the reigning family.
Here lies Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead;
Had it been his father,
I had much rather:
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another;
Had it been his sister,
No one would have missed her;
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation;
But since ’tis only Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead,--
There’s no more to be said.
(_Vide page 88._)
_Note._--[The following, which is styled “Brief account of
George Bubb Doddington, Lord Melcombe,” is written in Horace
Walpole’s printed copy of the Diary; and as it contains some
traits of character, and other anecdotes of a person who is often
mentioned in the Memoirs, and who has himself related many of the
same transactions, it is here subjoined to the work, though no
injunctions to that purport were left by the author.]
George Bubb Doddington was son of an apothecary at Carlisle,
by a sister or near relation of Mr. Doddington of Eastberry,
in Dorsetshire, who bequeathed him his estate and name, with
obligation to finish the vast seat at Eastberry, designed by
Vanbrugh; and which was pulled down by Richard Grenville, first
Earl Temple, on whom it was entailed, in case of Bubb’s having
no issue, as happened. Doddington had a great deal of wit, great
knowledge of business, and was an able speaker in Parliament,
though an affected one, and though most of his speeches were
premeditated. He was, as his diary shows, vain, fickle, ambitious,
servile, and corrupt. Early in his life, he had been devoted to
Sir Robert Walpole, and in an epistle to him, which Pope quotes,
had professed himself,
In power a servant, out of power a friend.
At a much later period of life he published an epistle to Lord
Bute, whom he styled Pollio. Mr. Wyndham, editor of his Diary,
wrote to Dr. Joseph Warton, in 1784, that he had found, among
Doddington’s papers, an old copy of that poem, _but inscribed to
Sir Robert Walpole_. He fell more than once under the lash of Pope,
who coupled him with Sir William Yonge in this line--
The flowers of Bubbington and flow of Yonge.
Soon after the arrival of Frederick Prince of Wales in England,
Doddington became a favourite, and submitted to the Prince’s
childish horse-play, being once rolled up in a blanket, and
trundled down stairs; nor was he negligent in paying more solid
court, by lending his Royal Highness[255] money. He was, however,
supplanted, I think, by George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton, and
again became a courtier and placeman at St. James’s; but once more
reverted to the Prince at the period where his Diary commences.
Pope was not the only poet who diverted the town at Doddington’s
expense. Sir Charles Hanbury ridiculed him in a well-known
dialogue with Gyles Earle, and in a ballad entitled “A Grub upon
Bubb.” Dr. Young, on the contrary, who was patronized by him,
has dedicated to him one of his satires on the love of fame, as
Lyttelton had inscribed one of his cantos on the progress of love.
Glover, and that prostitute fellow Ralph, were also countenanced by
him, as the Diary shows.
Doddington’s own wit was very ready. I will mention two instances.
Lord Sundon was Commissioner of the Treasury with him and
Winnington, and was very dull. One Thursday, as they left the
board, Lord Sundon laughed heartily at something Doddington
said; and when gone, Winnington said, “Doddington, you are very
ungrateful; you call Sundon stupid and slow, and yet you see how
quick he took what you said.” “Oh, no,” replied Doddington, “he
was only laughing now at what I said last Treasury day.”--Mr.
Trenchard, a neighbour, telling him, that though his pinery was
expensive, he contrived, by applying the fire and the dung to other
purposes, to make it so advantageous, that he believed he got a
shilling by every pine-apple he ate. “Sir,” said Doddington, “I
would eat them for half the money.”--Doddington was married to a
Mrs. Behan, whom he was supposed to keep. Though secretly married,
he could not own her, as he then did, till the death of Mrs.
Strawbridge, to whom he had given a promise of marriage, under
the penalty of ten thousand pounds. He had long made love to the
latter, and, at last, obtaining an assignation, found her lying on
a couch. However, he only fell on his knees, and after kissing her
hand for some time, cried out, “Oh, that I had you but in a wood!”
“In a wood!” exclaimed the disappointed dame; “what would you do
then? Would you _rob_ me?” It was on this Mrs. Strawbridge that was
made the ballad,
My Strawberry--my Strawberry
Shall bear away the bell;
to the burthen and tune of which Lord Bath, many years afterwards,
wrote his song on “Strawberry Hill.”
Doddington had no children. His estate descended to Lord Temple,
whom he hated, as he did Lord Chatham, against whom he wrote a
pamphlet to expose the expedition to Rochfort.
Nothing was more glaring in Doddington than his want of taste, and
the tawdry ostentation in his dress and furniture of his houses.
At Eastberry, in the great bedchamber, hung with the richest red
velvet, was pasted, on every panel of the velvet, his crest (a
hunting-horn supported by an eagle) cut out of gilt leather. The
foot-cloth round the bed was a mosaic of the pocket-flaps and cuffs
of all his embroidered clothes. At Hammersmith[256] his crest, in
pebbles, was stuck into the centre of the turf before his door. The
chimney-piece was hung with spars representing icicles round the
fire, and a bed of purple, lined with orange, was crowned by a dome
of peacock’s feathers. The great gallery, to which was a beautiful
door of white marble, supported by two columns of _lapis lazuli_,
was not only filled with busts and statues, but had, I think, an
inlaid floor of marble; and all this weight was above stairs.
One day showing it to Edward, Duke of York, Doddington said, “Sir,
some persons tell me that this room ought to be on the ground.” “Be
easy, Mr. Doddington,” replied the Prince, “it will soon be there.”
In the approach to his villa at Hammersmith, Mr. Doddington erected
a noble obelisk, surmounted by an urn of bronze, to the memory of
his wife, who died before him. Mr. Wyndham, his heir, took down the
obelisk, and sold it. The Diary was certainly not published entire.
A gentleman, who saw it five years before it was published, missed
some particular passages.--H. W., June 7th, 1784.
Another instance of Doddington’s wit. Doddington was very
lethargic: falling asleep one day, after dinner, with Sir Richard
Temple, Lord Cobham, the General, the latter reproached Doddington
with his drowsiness; Doddington denied having been asleep, and
to prove he had not, offered to repeat all Lord Cobham had been
saying. Cobham challenged him to do so. Doddington repeated a
story, and Lord Cobham owned he had been telling it. “Well,” said
Doddington, “and yet I did not hear a word of it; but I went to
sleep because I knew that about this time of day you would tell
that story.” * * * *
(_Vide page 98._)
In the Sackville family a son of talents had frequently succeeded
a father below mediocrity. The following epigram, founded on that
circumstance, was ascribed to Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, but
never acknowledged by him, or included in the manuscript copies of
his poems. The last stanza was unjust, as well as severe; but there
is so much arch humour in the first, that it is worth preserving:--
Folly and sense in Dorset’s race
Alternately do run,
As Carey one day told his Grace,
Praising his eldest son.
But Carey must allow for once
Exception to this rule;
For Middlesex is but a dunce,
Though Dorset be a fool.
* * * *
(_Vide page 164._)
The following inscription, though professedly written on a Swedish
nobleman, the English reader will at once apply to a certain great
statesman of British manufacture:--
“HIC SITUS EST
SENATUS PRINCEPS, et REGNI PRÆFECTUS;
Vir nobilis, splendidus, affabilis, blandus,
At animo non magno, nec magnâ corporis dignitate.
Cujus nomen et laudes tota jamdiu celebrat Academia;
Quem sacerdotes aulici omnes imprimis observant;
Quem reverendissimi Præsules, ut Deum colunt.
Qui cibi conquisitissimi perquàm intelligens,
Et convivia sumptuosè apparandi unicus instructor,
Doctissimos Trimalchionis coquos,
Mercede amplissimâ conductos,
In patriam, inque patriæ, scilicet, honorem,
Primus curavit arcessendos.
Qui indisertus, loquax, obscurus,
Disertissimos oratores, et sapientissimos
Non modò vicit omnes,
Sed hos ipsos semper habuit
Sententiæ suæ astipulatores.
Quippe populi captandi, et corrumpendi mirus artifex,
Atque ad conservandam, quam consecutus est, potentiam,
Ut alius nemo, callidus,
Summam Imperii diu tenuit.
Rei tamen publicæ administrandæ,
Perinde atque suæ,
Minimè peritus.
Tria millia talentûm ex agris et fortunis suis,
Totidemque fortasse e regio, cui præest, ærario
Exhausit, et dissipavit.
Neque quemquam hominem probissimum,
Deque republicâ, aut re literariâ optimè meritum,
Liberalitate suâ decoravit, aut adjuvit.
Solus ex omnibus
Belli et pacis arbiter fuit constitutus:
At belli legitimè suscipiendi, et persequendi,
Aut pacis honestè retinendæ, aut firmandæ
Solus ex omnibus expers et ignarus.
Semper vehementissimè occupatus,
Ac res permagnas visus agere,
Omninò nihil agit.
Semper festinans, properansque,
Atque ad metam tendere prorsùm simulans,
Nunquam pervenit.
Hæc fortassis, Viator, rides:
Sta verò et tristem lege Epilogum;
HUJUS unius hominis inscitia
Tantum impressit dedecus,
Tantum attulit detrimentum reipublicæ,
Ut omnibus appareat,
Nisi SUECIÆ Genius, siquis est, sese interponat,
SUECIAM futuram non esse.”
(_Vide page 177._)
Henrietta, daughter of Sir Henry Hobart, was first married to
Colonel Henry Howard, afterwards Earl of Suffolk, by whom she had
an only son, Henry, who succeeded his father, but died a young
man. Mr. Howard and she travelled in very mean circumstances to
Hanover before the accession of that family to the Crown; and after
it, she was made a Woman of the Bedchamber to the Princess; and
being _confidante_ of the Prince’s passion for a lady, who was in
love with, and soon after privately married to, a Colonel, Mrs.
Howard had the address to divert the channel of his inclination
to herself. Her husband bore it very ill, and attempted to force
her from St. James’s, but was at last quieted with a pension of
1200_l._ per annum. Yet Mrs. Howard had little interest with the
King. The Queen persecuted whoever courted her; and Sir R. Walpole
directing all his worship to the uncommonly-powerful wife, Mrs.
Howard naturally became his enemy, and as naturally attached
herself to Lord Bolingbroke; the more intimate connexion of which
intercourse, carelessly concealed by a mistress that was tired, and
eagerly hunted out by a wife still jealous, was unravelled by the
Princess Emily at the Bath, and at last laid open by the cautious
Queen; the King stormed; the mistress was glad he did, left him in
his moods, and married George Berkeley, brother to the late Earl,
by whom she was again left a widow in 1746.
King George the Second has often, when Mrs. Howard, his mistress,
was dressing the Queen, come into the room, and snatched the
handkerchief off, and cried, “Because you have an ugly neck
yourself, you love to hide the Queen’s!” Her Majesty (all the
while calling her “_My good Howard_,”) took great joy in employing
her in the most servile offices about her person. The King was
so communicative to his wife, that one day Mrs. Selwyn, another
of the Bedchamber Women, told him he should be the last man with
whom she would have an intrigue, because he always told the Queen.
Their letters, whenever he was at Hanover, were so long, that he
has complained when she has written to him but nineteen pages;
and in his, at the beginning of his amour with Lady Yarmouth, he
frequently said, “I know you will love the Walmoden, _because
she loves me_.” Old Blackbourn, the Archbishop of York, told her
one day, “That he had been talking to her Minister Walpole about
the new mistress, and was glad to find that her Majesty was so
sensible a woman as to like her husband should divert himself.” Yet
with the affectation of content, it made her most miserable: she
dreaded Lady Yarmouth’s arrival, and repented not having been able
to resist the temptation of driving away Lady Suffolk the first
instant she had an opportunity, though a rival so powerless, and so
little formidable. The King was the most regular man in his hours:
his time of going down to Lady Suffolk’s apartment was seven in the
evening: he would frequently walk up and down the gallery, looking
at his watch, for a quarter of an hour before seven, but would not
go till the clock struck.
The King had another _passager amour_ (between the disgrace of Lady
Suffolk and the arrival of Lady Yarmouth) with the Governess to the
two youngest Princesses; a pretty idiot, with most of the vices of
her own sex, and the additional one of ours, drinking. Yet this
thing of convenience, on the arrival of Lady Yarmouth, put on all
that dignity of passion, which even revolts real inclination.
F. G. H.
(_Vide page 204._)
_Extracts from Letters of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, during his
Ministry at Berlin._
TO THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.
Berlin, July 11-22nd, 1750.
.... Count Podewils’s behaviour to me has been hitherto very cold,
and when I meet him at third places, he contents himself with
making me a bow, without speaking to me.
I have made one visit to Monsieur Finkenstein, who is the second
Minister of State for Foreign Affairs. He has very much the air
of a French _petit-maître manqué_, and is extremely affected
in everything he says and does: but from what I have been able
hitherto to learn, his credit with the King of Prussia increases
daily; and that of Count Podewils is not thought to be so good as
it formerly was. The former has lately gained a point over the
latter: Count Podewils’s kinsman, who is at Vienna, was named
to be a Minister of State before Count Finkenstein; but Count
Finkenstein has got into his employment, and when Count Podewils
returns from Vienna, Count Finkenstein will take place of him.
Not that his Prussian Majesty gives entire confidence either to
Podewils or Finkenstein; he reserves that for two persons that
constantly reside with him at Potsdam, and whose names are Heichel
and Fredersdorff; the first of whom is his Prussian Majesty’s
Private Secretary, and who is always kept under the same roof with
his Prussian Majesty, and is so well watched, that a person may be
at this Court seven years without once seeing him. The other, who
is the great favourite, was once a common soldier, and the King
took a fancy to him, while he was yet Prince Royal of Prussia, as
he was standing sentinel at the door of his apartment. This person
has two very odd titles joined together, for he is styled _valet
de chambre_, and _grand tresorier du Roi_. He keeps out of all
people’s sight as much as Heichel.
But there is lately arose another young man, who has undoubtedly a
large share in the King of Prussia’s favours: his name is Sedoo:
he was not long ago his page, then came to be a lieutenant, and
is very lately made a major, and _premier ecuyer de l’ecurie de
Potsdam_, and will undoubtedly soon rise much higher.
_Another Extract._
.... On Thursday, by appointment, I went to Court at eleven
o’clock; the King of Prussia arrived about twelve, and Count
Podewils immediately introduced me into his closet, where I
delivered his Majesty’s letters into the King of Prussia’s hands,
and made the usual compliments to him in the best manner I was
able. To which his Prussian Majesty replied, to the best of my
remembrance, as follows: “I have the truest esteem for the King
of Great Britain’s person, and I set the highest value upon his
friendship. I have at different times received essential proofs
of it; and I desire you would acquaint the King, your master,
that I will never forget them.” His Prussian Majesty afterwards
said something with respect to myself, and then asked me several
questions about indifferent things and persons. He seemed to
express a great deal of esteem for my Lord Chesterfield, and a
great deal of kindness for Mr. Villiers, but did not once mention
Lord Hyndford, or Mr. Legge. I was in the closet with his Majesty
exactly five minutes and a half.
After my audience was over, the King of Prussia came out into that
room where the Foreign Ministers wait for his Prussian Majesty. He
just said one word to Count de la Puebla (the Austrian Minister) as
he came in, and afterwards addressed his discourse to the French,
Swedish, and Danish Ministers; but did not say one word either to
the Russian Minister or myself.
_Extract from another Letter, in Cipher._
Berlin July, 28, 1750.
.... About four days ago, Mr. Voltaire, the French poet, arrived
at Potsdam from Paris. The King of Prussia had wrote to him about
three months ago to desire him to come to Berlin. Mr. Voltaire
answered his Prussian Majesty, that he should always be glad of
an opportunity of throwing himself at his Majesty’s feet, but at
that time he was not in circumstances to take so long a journey;
upon which the King of Prussia sent him back word, that he would
bear his expenses; but Mr. Voltaire, not caring to trust the King
of Prussia, would not leave Paris till his Prussian Majesty had
sent him a bill of exchange upon a banker in that town for 4000
rix-dollars, and he did not begin the journey till he had actually
received the money. All that I now write your grace was told me by
the Princess Amalie.--(_Author._)
[The following extracts from the private correspondence of Sir
Charles Hanbury Williams will further illustrate the remark in
the text, and show the unfavourable view taken by him of the
Prussian Court and Frederick the Great.]
_Extract of a Letter from Charles Hanbury Williams, from Berlin,
1750._
.... ’Tis incredible what care this _Pater Patriæ_ takes of his
people. He is so good as to meddle in their family affairs, in
their marriages, in the education of their children, and in the
disposition of their estates. He hates that anybody should marry,
especially an officer, let him be of what degree soever, and
from the moment they take a wife, they are sure of never being
preferred. All children are registered as soon as born, and the
parents are obliged to produce either certificates of their deaths,
or the male children themselves, at the age of fourteen, in order
to be enrolled, and to take the oath of a soldier to the King; and
if this is not done, or the children have escaped, the parents are
answerable for the escape, and are sent to prison.
No man can sell land throughout all the Prussian dominions without
a special licence from the King: and as he does no more give
licences, nobody can now dispose of or alienate his possessions.
If they could, and were to find fools to purchase them, I believe
he would not have ten of his present subjects left in a year’s
time. They have really no liberty left but that of thinking. There
is a general constraint that runs through all sorts of people,
and diffidence is painted in every face. All their ambition and
desire is to be permitted to go to their Country Seats, where they
need not be obliged to converse with any but their own family.
But this leave is not easily obtained, because the father of his
country insists upon their living at Berlin, and making his Capital
flourish. He is never here but from the beginning of December to
the end of January, and during that time, Prussians, Silesians,
and all his most distant subjects, are obliged to come and make a
figure here, and spend all they have been saving for the other ten
months. He hates that any subject of his should be rich or easy;
and if he lives a few years longer, he will have accomplished his
generous design. There are actually but four persons in this great
town that live upon their own means, and they are people that can’t
last long in their present condition.
He (always meaning _Pater Patriæ_) gives very small salaries to all
employments, and this is the cause that he can get no gentleman
to serve him in a Foreign Legation. His Ministers at every Court
are the scum of the earth, and have nothing but the insolence of
their master to support them; and, indeed, the Prussian method
of treating with every Court is such, as I wonder how Sovereign
Princes can bear. Of this, if I had time, I could give you many
provoking instances. His Prussian Majesty’s Ministers at Berlin--I
mean those for Foreign Affairs--make the oddest figure of any in
Europe. They seldom or never see any dispatches that are sent to
the Prussian Ministers at Foreign Courts; and all letters that come
to Berlin from Foreign Courts go directly to the King; so that
Mr. Podewils and Count Finkenstein know no more of what passes in
Europe than what they are informed of by the Gazettes. When any
of us go to them on any business, the surprise they are in easily
betrays their ignorance, and the only answer you ever get is, that
they will lay what you say before their master, and give you an
answer as soon as he shall have signified his pleasure to them.
When you return to their houses for this answer, they tell you the
exact words which the king has directed, and never one word more;
nor are you permitted to argue any point. In short, they act the
part of Ministers without being really so, as much as ever Cibber
did that of Wolsey upon the stage, only not half so well.
The first of them is reputed to be an honest man, but he is nothing
less. He loses that appearance of credit he once had, daily; for
verily I believe he never had real weight enough with his master
to have made an Ensign in his Army, or a Postillion in one of his
Posthouses. His face is the picture of Dullness when she smiles,
and his figure is a mixture of a clown and a _petit-maître_. He is
a little genteeler than Mons. Adrié, who you may remember to have
seen make so great a figure in England.
The other, Count Finkenstein, whom everybody calls Count Fink, is
very like the late Lord Hervey, and yet his face is the ugliest I
ever saw. But when he speaks, his affectation, the motion of his
eyes and shoulders, all his different gestures and grimaces, bring
Lord Hervey very strongly into my mind; and, like that Lord, he is
the Queen’s favourite (I mean the Queen Mother’s); and her Majesty,
whether seriously or otherwise I can’t tell, calls him “_Mon beau
Comte Fink_.” He has parts, and is what, at Berlin, is called
_sçavant_, which is to say, that he has read all the modern French
story books, from _Les Egaremens_ down to the history of _Prince
Cocquetron_.
The person who has certainly the greatest share of the King of
Prussia’s confidence is one Heichel. He is his Private Secretary,
and writes all that the King himself dictates. But this man I never
saw, and people that have lived here seven years have never seen
him. He is kept like a State Prisoner, is in constant waiting, and
never has half an hour to himself in the whole year.
[Then follows the account of Fredersdorff, to the same purpose,
and nearly in the same words as in the extracts printed above.]
He (Fredersdorff) is his Secretary for all small affairs for his
Prussian Majesty.--
Il fait tout par ses mains, et voit tout par ses yeux.
If a Courier is to be dispatched to Versailles, or a Minister to
Vienna, his Prussian Majesty draws, himself, the instructions for
the one, and writes the letters for the other. This, you’ll say,
is great; but if a Dancer at the Opera has disputes with a Singer,
or if one of those performers want a new pair of stockings, a
plume for his helmet, or a finer petticoat, ’tis the same King of
Prussia that sits in judgment on the cause, and that with his own
hand answers the Dancer’s or the Singer’s letter. His Prussian
Majesty laid out 20,000_l._ to build a fine theatre, and his music
and Singers cost him near the same sum every year; yet this same
King, when an opera is performed, wont allow ten pounds per night
to light up the theatre with wax candles; and the smoke that rises
from the bad oil, and the horrid stink that flows from the tallow,
make many of the audience sick, and actually spoil the whole
entertainment. What I have thought about this Prince is very true;
and I believe, after reading what I say about him, you will think
so too. _He is great in great things, and little in little ones._
* * * * *
In the summer 1749, three Prussian Officers came, without
previously asking leave, to see a Review of some Austrian troops
in Moravia; upon which the Commanding Officer of those troops,
suspecting they were not come so much out of curiosity to see
the Review, as to debauch some of the soldiers into the King of
Prussia’s service, sent them orders to retire. This being reported
to his Prussian Majesty, he was much offended, and resolved to take
some method to show his resentment, which he did as follows:--Last
summer, an Austrian Captain, being in the Duchy of Mecklenburgh,
met there with an old acquaintance, one Chapeau, who is in great
favour with the King of Prussia. At that time, there was to be a
great Review at Berlin, and as Berlin was in the Austrian’s road in
his return to Vienna, Chapeau invited him to see the Review; but
the Austrian replied, that he would willingly come, but was afraid
of receiving some affront, in return for what had been done to the
Prussian Officers the year before in Moravia; to which Chapeau
replied, that if he would come to Berlin, he would undertake to get
the King of Prussia’s special leave for him to be present at the
Review. Encouraged by this, the Austrian came, and the night before
the Review, Chapeau brought him word that the leave was granted,
and he might come with all safety. He did accordingly come; but
as soon as the King of Prussia had notice of his being there, he
sent an Aide-de-camp to him to tell him to retire that moment,
which he was forced to do, not without much indignation against
Chapeau, who had drawn him into the scrape. The next morning he
went to Chapeau, with an intention to demand satisfaction for the
affront which, through him, he had received. Chapeau said he would
do as he pleased, but first desired him to give him leave to speak
for himself; which he did. Chapeau then told him, that immediately
upon hearing that he had been sent out of the field in that strange
manner, he had rode up to the King, and asked his Majesty whether
he had not given him orders to tell the Austrian Officer that he
might come to the Review with all security? and that the King had
replied, it was very true, he had given such orders; because, if
he had not, the Austrian would hardly have ventured to come to the
Review; and if he had not come there, he (the King) should not have
had an opportunity of revenging the affront that had been offered
to some Officers of his own the year before in Moravia.
* * * * *
I must tell you a story of the King of Prussia’s regard for the
law of nations. There was, some time ago, a Minister here from
the Duke of Brunswick, whose name was Hoffman. He was a person of
very good sense, and what we call well-intentioned, (which means
being attached to the interests of the maritime powers and the
House of Austria.) He was, besides, very active and dexterous in
getting intelligence, which he constantly communicated to the
Ministers of England and Austria. This the King of Prussia being
well informed of, wrote a letter with his own hand to the Duke of
Brunswick, to insist (and in case of refusal to threaten) that he
should absolutely disavow Hoffman for his Minister. The Duke, who
is the worthiest Prince upon earth, was so frightened with this
letter, that he complied, though much against his will, with this
haughty and cruel request. The moment the King of Prussia received
this answer, he sent a party of Guards to Hoffman’s house, seized
him, sent him prisoner to Madgeburgh, where he has now been for
above four years chained to a wheel-barrow, and working at the
fortifications of that town! He was very near doing the same by a
Minister of the Margravine of Anspach’s, but that person got timely
notice, and escaped out of Berlin in the morning; and when the
King of Prussia’s Guards came to seize him at night, the bird had
luckily flown.
There is at present here a Minister of the Duke of Brunswick,
the successor of Hoffman, to whom, in his first audience, the
King said, that he advised him to act very differently from his
predecessor, and particularly to take care not to frequent those
Foreign Ministers that he must know were disagreeable to him; for
if he did, he might depend upon it he should deal with him in the
same manner as he had done with Hoffman.
I think Hamlet says in the play, “Denmark is a prison;” the whole
Prussian territory is so in the literal sense of the word. No man
can, or does pretend to go out of it without the knowledge of the
King and his Ministers. Very hard is the fate of those who have
estates in other dominions besides those of his Prussian Majesty;
he will neither permit them to sell their estates in his countries,
nor live upon those they have out of them. The distresses which
are come on the Silesians (who had estates also in Bohemia) are
prodigious. Many people have given them up, or sold them for a
trifle, to get out of this land of Egypt--this house of bondage.
Six hundred dollars make just one hundred guineas, and I know the
King of Prussia thinks that just as much as any of his subjects
ought to have, exclusive of what he may give them. In a very few
years, I am convinced that no subject of his that has not estates
elsewhere will have more left him. But from what he has already
done, he begins to find that it is no longer possible to collect
the heavy taxes which he imposes on his subjects. I know that the
revenues of all his countries, except Silesia, have diminished
every year, for these last five years.
A Prussian will tell you, with a very grave face, that their
present King is the most merciful Prince that ever reigned, and
that he hates shedding blood. This is not true; there are often
as cruel and tormenting executions in this country as ever were
known under any Sicilian tyrant. ’Tis true, they are not done at
Berlin, nor in the face of the world, but at Potsdam, in private.
Since my arrival in this cursed country, an old woman was quartered
alive at Potsdam, for having assisted two soldiers to desert.
But his Prussian Majesty generally punishes offenders with close
imprisonment and very hard labour, keeping them naked in the
coldest weather, and giving them nothing, for years together,
but bread and water. Such mercy is cruelty. Many persons destroy
themselves here out of mere despair; but all imaginable care
is taken to conceal such suicides. I have heard of one of our
Governors in the Indies, who was reproached by his friends, on his
return to England, that he put a great number of persons to death;
to which that humane Governor replied, “It is not true; I only used
them so ill, that they hanged themselves.” * * *
I.
(_Vide page 217._)
Deux Henris immolés par nos braves ayeux,
L’un à la liberté, et Bourbon à nos Dieux,
Te menacent, Louis, d’une pareille entreprise:
Ils revivent en toi ces anciens tyrans:
Crains notre désespoir: la noblesse a des Guises,
Paris des Ravaillacs, le clergé des Cléments.
K.
(_Vide page 225._)
Though poetry was certainly neither a point of their rivalship,
nor of their ambition, it may not be unwelcome to the curious
to compare these great men even in their poetic capacities. The
following sonnet was written by Sir R. Walpole when a very young
man; the elegy, by Lord Bolingbroke, rather past his middle age.
Had they climbed no mountain but Parnassus, it is obvious how far
Lord Bolingbroke would have ascended above his competitor, since,
when turned of fifty, he excelled in the province of youth.
TO THE HELIOTROPE.[257]
A SONG.
1.
Hail, pretty emblem of my fate!
Sweet flower, you still on Phœbus wait;
On him you look, and with him move,
By nature led, and constant love.
2.
Know, pretty flower, that I am he,
Who am in all so like to thee;
I, too, my fair one court, and where
She moves, my eyes I thither steer.
3.
But yet this difference still I find,
The sun to you is always kind;
Does always life and warmth bestow:
--Ah! would my fair one use me so!
4.
Ne’er would I wait till she arose
From her soft bed and sweet repose;
But leaving thee, dull plant, by night
I’d meet my Phillis with delight.
TO CLARA.[258]
BY HENRY, VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE.
Dear thoughtless Clara, to my verse attend,
Believe for once the lover and the friend;
Heav’n to each sex has various gifts assign’d,
And shown an equal care of human kind.
Strength does to man’s imperial race belong;
To yours, that beauty which subdues the strong.
But as our strength, when misapplied, is lost,
And what should save, urges our ruin most;
Just so, when beauty prostituted lies,
Of b***s the prey, of rakes the abandon’d prize,
Women no more their empire can maintain,
Nor hope, vile slaves of lust, by love to reign;
Superior charms but make their case the worse,
When what was meant their blessing, proves their curse.
O nymph! that might, reclin’d on Cupid’s breast,
Like Psyche, soothe the God of Love to rest;
Or if ambition move thee, Jove enthral,
Brandish his thunder, and direct its fall;
Survey thyself, contemplate ev’ry grace
Of that sweet form, of that angelic face;
Then, Clara, say, were those delicious charms
Meant for lewd brothels and rude ruffians’ arms?
No, Clara, no; that person and that mind
Were form’d by nature, and by Heav’n design’d
For nobler ends; to these return, though late;
Return to these, and so redress thy fate.
Think, Clara, think (nor may that thought be vain!)
Thy slave, thy Harry, doom’d to drag his chain,
Of love ill treated and abus’d, that he
From more inglorious chains might rescue thee.
Thy drooping health restor’d by his fond cares,
Once more thy beauty its full lustre wears.
Mov’d by his love, by his example taught,
Soon shall thy soul, once more with virtue fraught,
With kind and generous truth thy bosom warm,
And thy fair mind, like thy fair person, charm.
To virtue thus and to thyself restor’d,
By all admir’d, by one alone ador’d,
Be to thy Harry ever kind and true,
And live for him who more than died for you.
(_Vide page 356._)
The reader will find a very ludicrous anecdote relating to Mr.
Nugent, during his election at Bristol, in a letter from our Author
to Richard Bentley, Esq., dated July 9th, 1754. It is printed in
the publication of his correspondence with that gentleman, but we
do not venture to insert it here.
END OF VOL. I.
T. C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covent-Garden.
FOOTNOTES:
[252] The Princess.
[253] Allen, Lord Bathurst.
[254] Sir George Lyttelton, who was out of favour with the Prince,
made a parody on this copy of verses: two of the lines were,
No--’tis that all-consenting tongue,
That never puts me in the wrong.
[255] “This is a strange country, this England” (said his Royal
Highness once); “I am told Doddington is reckoned a clever man; yet
I got 5000_l._ out of him this morning, and he has no chance of
ever seeing it again.”
[256] His house is since called Brandenburgh House.
[257] I found this song in an old pocket-book belonging to my
father, who wrote it, as he told me himself, when he was a very
young man, on a sister of Sir William Carew.
[258] This was written on a common woman whom Lord Bolingbroke took
into keeping, and who, many years afterwards, sold oranges in the
Court of Requests.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example,
Nova-Scotia, Nova Scotia; goodnature, good-nature; Lord-Lieutenant,
Lord Lieutenant; se’nnight; disculpate; unapt; deficience; altercate;
preponderated.
Pg xix: ‘acknowleged to have’ replaced by ‘acknowledged to have’.
Pg 22: ‘he committed to’ replaced by ‘he was committed to’.
Pg 25: ‘John Burnard--Factions’ replaced by ‘John Barnard--Factions’.
Pg 37: ‘election at Weobly’ replaced by ‘election at Weobley’.
Pg 68: ‘19.--The’ replaced by ‘19th.--The’.
Pg 85: ‘3.--Palmer’ replaced by ‘3rd.--Palmer’.
Pg 95: ‘to wordly success’ replaced by ‘to worldly success’.
Pg 153: ‘worthy grammarians’ replaced by ‘worthy of grammarians’.
Pg 190: ‘Holdernesse--Murray’ replaced by ‘Holderness--Murray’.
Pg 204: ‘upon the recal’ replaced by ‘upon the recall’.
Pg 256: ‘consume the propriety’ replaced by ‘consume the property’.
Pg 280: ‘revenge offerred’ replaced by ‘revenge offered’.
Pg 345: ‘2.--A ’ replaced by ‘2d.--A ’.
Pg 383: ‘fidler, Nero’ replaced by ‘fiddler, Nero’.
Pg 394: ‘the Mississipi’ replaced by ‘the Mississippi’.
Pg 400: ‘as Aid-de-camp’ replaced by ‘as Aide-de-camp’.
Pg 414: ‘all the coolurs’ replaced by ‘all the colours’.
Pg 445: ‘being confidente of’ replaced by ‘being confidante of’.
Footnote [21]: ‘and and in 1745’ replaced by ‘and in 1745’.
Footnote [30]: ‘Stafford in 1706’ replaced by ‘Stafford in 1786’.
Footnote [48]: ‘been prefered to’ replaced by ‘been preferred to’.
Footnote [98]: ‘been Aid-de-camp’ replaced by ‘been Aide-de-camp’.