GEORGE THE SECOND.
[Sidenote: 1727--Death of Newton]
The year when George the First died was made memorable forever by the
death of a far greater man than any European king of that generation.
When describing the events which led to the publication of the "Drapier's
Letters," we mentioned the fact that Sir Isaac Newton had been consulted
about the coinage of Wood's half-pence. That was the last time that
Isaac Newton appeared as a living figure in public controversy of any
kind. On March 20, 1727, the great philosopher died, after much
suffering, at his house in Kensington. The epitaph which Pope intended
for him sums up as well as a long discourse could do his achievements in
science--
"Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night;
God said, 'Let Newton be,' and all was light."
No other discovery ever made in science approaches in importance to the
discovery of the principle of universal gravitation--the principle that
every particle of matter is attracted by every other particle with a
force proportioned inversely to the square of their distances. Vague
ideas of some such principle had long been floating in the minds of some
men; had probably been thus floating since ever men began to think
seriously over the phenomena of inanimate nature. But the discovery of
the principle was, however, as distinctly the achievement of Newton as
"Paradise Lost" is the work of Milton. We find it hard now to form to
ourselves any clear idea of a world to which Newton's principle was
unknown. It would be almost as easy to realize the idea of a world
without {273} light or atmosphere. Newton is called by Sir David
Brewster the greatest philosopher of any age. Sir John Herschel assigns
to the name of Newton "a place in our veneration which belongs to no
other in the annals of science." In this book we have only to record the
date at which the pure and simple life of this great man came to its end.
The important events of his career belong to an earlier period; his
teachings and his fame are for all time. The humblest of historians as
well as the greatest may ask himself what is the principle of history
which bids us to assign so much more space to the wars of kings and the
controversies of statesmen than to the life and the deeds of a man like
Newton. In the whole history of the world during Newton's lifetime, the
one most important fact, the one fact of which the magnitude dwarfs all
other facts, is the discovery of the principle of gravitation. Yet its
meaning may be explained in fewer words than would be needed to describe
the nature of the antagonism between Walpole and Pulteney, or the reason
why Queen Anne was succeeded by King George.
We have, however, in these pages only to deal with history in its old
and, we suppose, its everlasting fashion--that of telling what happened
in the way of actual fact, telling the story of the time. The English
public took the death of George the First with becoming composure; the
vast majority of the people never troubled their heads about it. It gave
a flutter of hope to Spain; it set the councils of the Stuart party in
eager commotion for a while; but it made no change in England. "George
the First was always reckoned Vile; still viler George the Second."
These are the lines in which Walter Savage Landor sums up the character
of the first and second George before passing on to picture in little the
characters of the third and fourth of the name. Landor was not wrong
when he described George the Second as, on the whole, rather worse than
George the First. George the Second was born at Hanover on October {274}
30, 1683, and was therefore in his forty-fourth year when he succeeded to
the throne. He had still less natural capacity than his father. He was
parsimonious; he was avaricious; he was easily put out of temper. His
instincts, feelings, passions were all purely selfish. He had hot
hatreds and but cool friendships. Personal courage was, perhaps, the
only quality becoming a sovereign which George the Second possessed. He
had served as a volunteer under Marlborough in 1708, and at the battle of
Oudenarde he had headed a charge of his Hanoverian dragoons with a
bravery worthy of a prince. He is to serve later on at Dettingen, and to
be in all probability the last English sovereign who commanded in person
on the battlefield. His education was not even so good as that of his
father, and he had an utter contempt for literature. He had little
religious feeling, but is said to have had a firm belief in the existence
of vampires. He was fond of business--devoted to the small ways of
routine. He took a great interest in military matters and all that
concerned the arrangements and affairs of an army. Like his father he
found abiding pleasure in the society of a little group of more or less
attractive mistresses.
[Sidenote: 1727--Incredulity of the Prince of Wales]
George the Second had always detested his father, and during the greater
part of their lives was equally detested by him. The reconciliation
which had lately taken place between them was as formal and superficial
as that of the two demons described in Le Sage's story. "They brought us
together," says Asmodeus; "they reconciled us. We shook hands and became
mortal enemies." When the reconciliation between George the Second and
his father was brought about by the influence of Stanhope and of Walpole,
the father and son shook hands and continued to be mortal enemies. If
George the First had his court at St. James's, George the Second had his
court and _coterie_ gathered around him at Leicester Fields and at
Richmond. The two courts were, in fact, little better than hostile
camps. Walpole had been for long years the confidential and favored
servant of George the First. The {275} natural expectation was that he
would be instantly discredited and discarded when George the Second came
to the throne.
So, indeed, it seemed at first to happen. When Walpole received the news
of George the First's death he hastened to Richmond Lodge, where George
the Second then was, in order to give him the news and hail him as King.
George was in bed, and had to be roused from a thick sleep. He was angry
at being disturbed, and not in a humor to admit that there was any excuse
for disturbing him. When Walpole told him that his father was dead, the
kingly answer of the sovereign was that the statesman's assertion was a
big lie. George roared this at Walpole, and then was for turning round
in his bed and settling down to sleep again. Walpole, however, persisted
in disturbing the royal slumbers, and assured the drowsy grumbler that he
really was George the Second, King of England. He produced for George's
further satisfaction a letter from Lord Townshend, describing the time,
place, and circumstances of the late King's death. Walpole tendered the
usual ceremonial expressions of loyalty, which George received coldly,
and even gruffly. Then the minister asked whom his Majesty wished to
appoint to draw up the necessary declaration for the Privy Council.
Walpole assumed as a matter of course that the King would leave the task
in his hands. George, however, disappointed him. "Compton," said the
King; and when he had spoken that word he intimated to Walpole that the
interview was over. Walpole left the royal abode believing himself a
fallen man.
"Compton," whom the King had thus curtly designated, was Sir Spencer
Compton, who had been chosen Speaker of the House of Commons in 1715. He
had been one of George the Second's favorites while George was still
Prince of Wales. He was a man of respectable character, publicly and
privately, but without remarkable capacity of any kind. He knew little
or nothing of the business of a minister, and it is said that when
Walpole {276} came to him to tell him of the King's command he frankly
acknowledged that he did not know how to draw up the formal declaration.
Walpole good-naturedly came to his assistance, took his pen, and did the
work for him.
[Sidenote: 1727--Compton's evaporation]
If the King had persevered in his objection to Walpole, the story of the
reign would have to be very differently told. Walpole was the one only
man who could at the time have firmly stood between England and foreign
intrigue--between England and financial blunder. Nor is it unlikely that
the King would have persevered and refused to admit Walpole to office but
that he happened to be, without his own knowledge, under the influence of
the one only woman who had any legitimate right to influence him--his
wife Caroline. Caroline, daughter of a petty German prince--the Margrave
of Brandenburg-Anspach--was one of the most remarkable women of her time.
Her faults, foibles, and weaknesses only served to make her more
remarkable. She had beauty when she was young, and she still had an
expressive face and a sweet smile. She was well educated, and always
continued to educate herself; she was fond of letters, art, politics, and
metaphysics. She delighted in theological controversy, and also
delighted in contests of mere wit. But of all her valuable gifts, the
most valuable for herself and for the country was the capacity she had
for governing her husband. She governed him through his very anxiety not
to be governed by his wife. One of George's strongest, and at the same
time meanest, desires was to let the world see that he was absolute
master in his own house, and could rule his wife with a rod of iron.
Caroline, having long since discovered this weakness, played into the
King's hands, and always made outward show of the utmost deference for
his authority, and dread of his anger. She put herself metaphorically,
and indeed almost literally, under his feet. She was pleased that all
the Court should see her thus grovelling. George was in the habit of
making jocular allusion, in his jovial, graceful way, to living and dead
sovereigns who were {277} governed by their wives, and he often invited
his courtiers to notice the difference between them and him, and to
admire the imperial supremacy which he exercised over the humble
Caroline. By humoring him in this way Caroline obtained, without any
consciousness on his part, an almost absolute power over him. Another
and a worse failing of the King's she humored as well. She had suffered
much in the beginning of her married life because of his amours and his
mistresses. Her true and faithful heart had been wrung by long
jealousies; but, happily for herself and for the country, she was able at
last to rise superior to this natural weakness of woman. Indeed, it has
to be said with regret for her self-degradation, that she not only
tolerated the love-makings of the King and his favorites, but even showed
occasionally a politic interest in the promotion of the amours and the
appointment of the ladies. She humored her lord and master's avarice
with as little scruple. Thus his principal defects--his sordid love of
money, his ignoble passion for women, and his ridiculous desire to seem
the absolute master of his wife--became in her skilful hands the
leading-strings by which she drew and guided him whither she would have
him go. Through Caroline's influence mainly Walpole was retained in
power. She played on the King's avarice, and poured into his greedy ear
the assurance that Walpole could raise money as no other living man
could. Caroline acted in this chiefly from a sincere love of her
husband, and anxiety for his good, but partly also, it has to be
acknowledged, because it had been made known to her that Walpole would
provide her with a larger allowance than it was Compton's intention to
do. The result was that Walpole was retained in office, or, perhaps it
should be said, restored to office. The crowds of courtiers who love to
worship the rising sun had hardly time to offer their adoration to
Compton when they found that the supposed rising sun was only a meteor,
which instantly vanished. Horace Walpole the younger describes the event
by a happy phrase as "Compton's evaporation." Compton {278} himself had
soon found that the responsibility would be too much for him. He
besought the King to relieve him of the burden to which he found himself
unequal. The King acceded to his wish. Walpole became once again First
Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Townshend
continued to be Secretary of State. The crisis was over.
[Sidenote: 1727--Condolence and congratulation]
Parliament assembled on June 15th, after the death of George the First.
As the law then stood, any Parliament summoned by a sovereign was not to
be dissolved by that sovereign's death, but should continue to sit and
act during a term of six months, "unless the same shall be sooner
prorogued or dissolved by such person who shall be next heir to the Crown
of this Realm in succession." The meeting of June 15th was merely
formal. Parliament was prorogued by a Commission from George the Second
until the 27th of the month. Both Houses then met at Westminster, and
the King came to the House of Peers in his royal robes and ascended the
throne with all the regular ceremonial. Sir Charles Dalton, Gentleman
Usher of the Black Rod, was sent with a message from the King commanding
the attendance of the Commons. When the Commons had crowded into the
space appointed for them in the Peers' Chamber, the King "delivered from
his own mouth" the Royal speech. George the Second had at all events one
advantage over George the First as a King of England--he understood the
language of his subjects, and could speak to them in their own tongue.
The Royal speech began by expressing the King's persuasion that "you all
share with me in my grief and affliction for the death of my late royal
father." The King was well warranted in this persuasion; nothing could
be more correct than his assumption. The Lords and Commons quite shared
with him his grief and affliction for the death of his royal father.
They felt just as much distress at that event as he did. The King then
went on to declare his fixed resolution to merit by all possible means
the love and affection of his people; to preserve the Constitution {279}
"as it is now happily established in Church and State;" and to secure to
all his subjects the full enjoyment of their religious and civil rights.
He expressed his satisfaction at the manner in which tranquillity and the
balance of power in Europe had been maintained, the strict union and
harmony which had hitherto subsisted among the allies of the Treaty of
Hanover, and which had chiefly contributed to the near prospect of a
general peace. Finally, the King pointed out that the grant of the
greatest part of his Civil List revenues had now run out, and that it
would be necessary for the House of Commons to make a new provision for
the support of him and of his family. "I am persuaded," said the King,
"that the experience of past times and a due regard to the honor and
dignity of the Crown will prevail upon you to give me this first proof of
your zeal and affection in a manner answerable to the necessities of my
Government." Then the King withdrew, and Lord Chesterfield moved for "an
address of condolence, congratulation, and thanks." The condoling and
congratulating address was unanimously voted, was presented next day to
his Majesty, and received his Majesty's most gracious acknowledgment.
Meanwhile the Commons having returned to their House, several new members
took the oaths. Sir Paul Methuen, Treasurer of the Household, the author
of the commercial treaty with Portugal which still bears his name, moved
an address of condolence and congratulation to the King. The motion was
seconded by Sir Robert Walpole, and as the formal record puts it, "voted
_nemine contradicente_." A committee was appointed to draw up the
address, Sir Robert Walpole, of course, being one of its members. The
chairman of the committee paid Walpole the compliment of handing him the
pen, "whereupon," as a contemporary account reports it, "Sir Robert,
without hesitation and with a masterly hand, drew up the said address."
Walpole could be courtly enough when he thought fit. He seems to have
distinctly outdone the House of Lords in the fervor of his grief for the
late King and his devotion {280} to the present. The death of George the
First, Walpole pronounced to be "a loss to this nation which your Majesty
alone could possibly repair." Having mentioned the fact that the death of
George the First had plunged all England into grief, Walpole changed, "as
by the stroke of an enchanter's wand," this winter of our discontent into
glorious summer. "Your immediate succession," he assured the King,
"banished all our grief."
[Sidenote: 1727--"Honest Shippen"]
On Monday, July 3d, the Commons met to consider the amount of supply to
be granted to his Majesty. Walpole, as Chancellor of the Exchequer,
stated to the House that the annual sum of seven hundred thousand pounds,
granted to the late King "for the support of his household and of the
honor and dignity of the Crown," had fallen short every year, and that
ministers had been obliged to make it up in other ways. The present
sovereign's necessary expenses were likely to increase, the Chancellor of
the Exchequer explained, "by reason of the largeness of his family" and
the necessity of "settling a household for his royal consort." The
Chancellor of the Exchequer therefore moved that the entire revenues of
the Civil List, which produced about one hundred and thirty thousand
pounds a year above the yearly sum of seven hundred thousand pounds
already mentioned, should be settled on his Majesty during life. The
motion was supported by several members, but Mr. Shippen, the earnest and
able, though somewhat eccentric, Jacobite and Tory, had the spirit and
courage to oppose it. Shippen's speech was expressed in a spirit of
loyalty, but was direct and incisive in its criticism of the Government
proposal. Shippen pointed out that the yearly sum of seven hundred
thousand pounds, now thought too little, was not obtained by the late
sovereign without a long and solemn debate, and was described by every
one who contended for it as an ample revenue for a king. He reminded the
House that Queen Anne used to pay about nineteen thousand pounds a year
out of her own pocket for the augmentation of the salaries of poor
clergymen, {281} allowed five thousand pounds a year out of the
Post-office revenue to the Duke of Marlborough, gave several hundred
thousand pounds for the building of the castle of Blenheim; and by this
means came under the necessity of asking Parliament for five hundred
thousand pounds, which she determined never to do again, and had
therefore prepared a scheme for the reduction of her expenses, which was
to bring her full yearly outlay down to four hundred and fifty thousand
pounds. Shippen then severely criticised the foreign policy of the late
King's reign, and with justice condemned the extravagance which required
to be met by repeated grants from the nation. "I confess," he said,
"that if the same management was to be continued, and if the same
ministers were to be again employed, a million a year would not be
sufficient to carry on the exorbitant expenses so often and so justly
complained of in this House." He deplored the vast sum "sunk in the
bottomless gulf of secret service." "I heartily wish," he exclaimed,
"that time, the great discoverer of hidden truths and concealed
iniquities, may produce a list of all such--if any such there were--who
have been perverted from their public duty by private pensions, who have
been the hired slaves and the corrupt instruments of a profuse and
vainglorious administration." Shippen concluded by moving as an
amendment that the amount granted to his Majesty be the clear yearly sum
of seven hundred thousand pounds. It is worth noticing that when Shippen
had occasion once to refer to some of Walpole's arguments he spoke of him
as "my honorable friend," and then, suddenly correcting himself, said, "I
ask pardon; I should have said the honorable person, for there is no
friendship betwixt us."
Shippen's speech hit hard, and must have been felt by the ministry. The
one charge against Walpole's government which he could not refute was the
charge of extravagance in corruption. The ministers, however, affected
to treat the speech with contempt, and were justified in doing so by the
manner in which the House of Commons {282} dealt with it. No answer was
given to Shippen's statements, because Shippen's motion was not seconded
and fell to the ground. The resolutions proposed by the Chancellor of
the Exchequer were carried without a division, and a bill was ordered to
be brought in to give effect to them. A provision of one hundred
thousand pounds a year was voted for the Queen, in case she should
survive the King. The vote was agreed to without division or debate.
Parliament was dissolved by proclamation on August 7th.
[Sidenote: 1728--Onslow as Haroun-al-Raschid]
The new Parliament met on January 23d, 1728. It was found that the
ministerial majority was even greater than it had been before. The King
opened Parliament in person, and directed the Commons, who had been
summoned to the House of Peers, to return to their own House and choose
their Speaker. The Commons unanimously chose Arthur Onslow to this high
office. Compton, the former Speaker, had been soothed with a peerage
after his "evaporation." Arthur Onslow was born in 1691, and had been in
Parliament from 1719; in July, 1728, he was made Privy Councillor. We
may anticipate events a little for the purpose of mentioning the fact
that all the writers of his time united in ascribing to Speaker Onslow,
as he has always since been called, a combination of the best attributes
which fit a man to preside over the House of Commons. It is said that
his election to the Speaker's chair was brought about mainly by Sir
Robert Walpole, and that Walpole expected Onslow to use his great
abilities and authority to suit the policy and serve the wishes of the
administration. If this was Walpole's idea, he must soon have found
himself as much mistaken as the conclave of cardinals about whom so much
is said in history, romance, and the drama, who elected one of their
order as Pope because they believed him to be too feeble and nerveless to
have any will of his own, and were much amazed to find that the moment
the new Pope had been elected he suddenly became strong and
energetic--the master and not the servant. Onslow's whole {283} conduct
in the chair of the House of Commons during the many years which he
occupied it displayed an absolute and fearless impartiality. The chair
has never been better filled in English history; the very title of
"Speaker Onslow," ever afterwards given to him, is of itself a tribute to
his impartiality and his services. Onslow was a man who loved letters
and art, and also, it is said, loved studying all varieties of life. It
is reported of him that he used to go about disguised, like a sort of
eighteenth-century Haroun-al-Raschid, among the lowest classes of men, in
out-of-the-way parts of the capital, for the purpose of studying the
forms and manners of human life. Legend has preserved the memory of a
certain public-house, called "The Jews'-harp," where Onslow is said to
have amused himself many an evening, sitting in the chimney-corner and
exchanging talk and jests with the company who frequented the place. It
is pleasant to be able to believe these stories of Speaker Onslow in that
highly artificial and formal age--that age of periwigs and paint and
shallow formulas. It is somewhat refreshing to meet with this clever man
of eccentric ways, the great "Speaker," who could wear his official robes
with so much true dignity, and then, when he had laid them aside, could
amuse himself after his own fashion, and study life in some of its
queerest corners with the freshness of a school-boy and the eye of an
artist.
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