ARLINGTON STREET, _Sept._ 20, 1745.
One really don't know what to write to you: the accounts from Scotland
vary perpetually, and at best are never very certain. I was just going
to tell you that the rebels are in England; but my uncle [_old_ Horace]
is this moment come in, and says, that an express came last night with
an account of their being at Edinburgh to the number of five thousand.
This sounds great, to have walked through a kingdom, and taken
possession of the capital! But this capital is an open town; and the
castle impregnable, and in our possession. There never was so
extraordinary a sort of rebellion! One can't tell what assurances of
support they may have from the Jacobites in England, or from the French;
but nothing of either sort has yet appeared--and if there does not,
never was so desperate an enterprise. One can hardly believe that the
English are more disaffected than the Scotch; and among the latter, no
persons of property have joined them: both nations seem to profess a
neutrality. Their money is all gone, and they subsist merely by levying
contributions. But, sure, banditti can never conquer a kingdom! On the
other hand, what cannot any number of men do, who meet no opposition?
They have hitherto taken no place but open towns, nor have they any
artillery for a siege but one-pounders. Three battalions of Dutch are
landed at Gravesend, and are ordered to Lancashire: we expect every
moment to hear that the rest are got to Scotland; none of our own are
come yet. Lord Granville and his faction persist in persuading the King,
that it is an affair of no consequence; and for the Duke of Newcastle,
he is glad when the rebels make any progress, in order to confute Lord
Granville's assertions. The best of our situation is, our strength at
sea: the Channel is well guarded, and twelve men-of-war more are arrived
from Rowley. Vernon, that simple noisy creature, has hit upon a scheme
that is of great service; he has laid Folkstone cutters all round the
coast, which are continually relieved, and bring constant notice of
everything that stirs. I just now hear that the Duke of Bedford declares
that he will be amused no longer, but will ask the King's leave to raise
a regiment. The Duke of Montagu has a troop of horse ready, and the Duke
of Devonshire is raising men in Derbyshire. The Yorkshiremen, headed by
the Archbishop [Herring] and Lord Malton, meet the gentlemen of the
county the day after to-morrow, to defend that part of England. Unless
we have more ill fortune than is conceivable, or the general supineness
continues, it is impossible but we must get over this. You desire me to
send you news: I confine myself to tell you nothing but what you may
depend upon; and leave you in a fright rather than deceive you. I
confess my own apprehensions are not near so strong as they were; and if
we get over this, I shall believe that we never can be hurt; for we
never can be more exposed to danger. Whatever disaffection there is to
the present family, it plainly does not proceed from love to the other.
My Lady O[rford] makes little progress in popularity. Neither the
protection of my Lady Pomfret's prudery, nor of my Lady Townshend's
libertinism, do her any service. The women stare at her, think her
ugly, awkward, and disagreeable; and what is worse, the men think so
too. For the height of mortification, the King has declared publicly to
the Ministry, that he has been told of the great civilities which he was
said to show to her at Hanover; that he protests he showed her only the
common civilities due to any English lady that comes thither; that he
never intended to take any particular notice of her; nor had, nor would
let my Lady Yarmouth. In fact, my Lady Yarmouth peremptorily refused to
carry her to court here; and when she did go with my Lady Pomfret, the
King but just spoke to her. She declares her intention of staying in
England, and protests against all lawsuits and violences; and says she
only asks articles of separation, and to have her allowance settled by
any two arbitrators chosen by my brother and herself. I have met her
twice at my Lady Townshend's, just as I used at Florence. She dresses
English and plays at whist. I forgot to tell a _bon-mot_ of Leheup on
her first coming over; he was asked if he would not go and see her? He
replied, "No, I never visit modest women." Adieu! my dear child! I
flatter myself you will collect hopes from this letter.
_DEFEAT OF COPE._