George I. And The Protestant Succession.
(1714-1727.)
It pleases God to confound the fears as well as the hopes of
mankind. All moderate Englishmen were passionately attached to
the Protestant succession. The great mass of the nation for some
years looked forward to the death of Queen Anne with great
anxiety, while the Jacobites awaited that event with
ill-disguised confidence, believing it the hour of their triumph.
The forebodings of the one, as well as the hopes of the other,
were equally disappointed. King George I., although away from
England, a foreigner, and unknown to all, was proclaimed without
opposition, and his name was received with public acclamations as
enthusiastic as though he was a well beloved son, ascending
peaceably the throne of his father; a powerful and striking
indication of that grave and firm resolution which caused the
English nation to remain attached to its religious faith, as well
as its political liberties; an indication, however, which was
long unrecognized by the partisans of the fallen house of Stuart;
faithful and blind, not only to the temper of the English people,
but also to the disposition and intentions of the princes for
whom they were to sacrifice from generation to generation, their
estates and their lives.
{136}
King George I., although proclaimed, was still absent, remaining
in his electorate, which he was loth to leave. He was naturally
slow and deliberate, just and moderate, without any charm of mind
or manner, and surrounded by favorites more foreign and more
dissatisfactory even than himself to the English nation. A
Council of Regency governed during his absence. It contained all
the illustrious names of the Whig party, with the exception of
the Duke of Marlborough, who was soon placed at the head of the
army, and Lord Somers, who was old and an invalid. Louis XIV.
recognized the new sovereign. One of the first measures voted by
Parliament, was the increase of the reward, from five thousand to
one hundred thousand pounds sterling, to any one who should
arrest the Pretender, if he dared to land upon English soil.
The prince protested immediately; he wrote from Plombières, where
he had gone to take the waters, proclaiming his rights to the
crown of England, as well as his grief at the death of the queen,
his sister: "whose good intentions we could not doubt," added he.
"And we have therefore remained inactive, awaiting the happy
issue which has been, unfortunately, prevented by her death."
Exiled princes, banished by revolutions, are sometimes ignorant
even of the language of the people they hope to govern: in the
face of popular indignation, the friends of the Pretender, and
those of the last ministry of Queen Anne, were compelled to
affirm that the proclamation of Plombières was an odious
fabrication.
[Image]
George I.
{137}
The king finally arrived, landing at Greenwich, on the 18th of
September, 1714, accompanied by his son the Prince of Wales. A
ministry was formed immediately, conferring all power upon the
Whig party; Lord Nottingham alone belonged, in principle, to the
Tories, but parliamentary intrigues had for some time past
reconciled him to the triumphant party. William III. had
endeavored to unite, in the same government, the chiefs of the
two great political factions; but however powerful might be his
intelligence and personal action, he was not calculated for
internal struggles and jealousies. George I. delivered himself
without reserve into the hands of the party that he believed the
most faithful to his cause. Even before his arrival in England he
ordered the dismissal of Bolingbroke. The seals were immediately
taken from him. "I have been neither surprised nor grieved at my
fall," wrote he to Atterbury. "The mode that they have used
shocked me only for a moment. I am not in any way alarmed by the
malice or the power of the Whigs, but that which distresses me is
this: I see clearly that the Tory party is destroyed."
The new Parliament was more intensely Whig than the Commons of
1713. Lord Townshend, at the head of the cabinet, was honest and
sincere, but as rude in his temper as in his actions. General
Stanhope, second Secretary of State, shared his sentiments; both
had received from their adversaries an example of violence.
Walpole, although holding no prominent official position, but
having more influence than any other member of the house, had
answered for the Commons, provided the Whigs were allowed full
liberty of action.
{138}
The peace of Utrecht was severely censured in the two houses.
Seals had been placed upon the papers of Lord Strafford, the
intimate friend of Bolingbroke, and Prior was recalled from
Paris. The report spread that the poet had promised to reveal the
secrets of the negotiations. The displaced ministers were in
danger of arrest. Bolingbroke appeared at a play at Drury Lane,
on the 25th of March, 1715. He applauded loudly, and, according
to the custom of the time, chose another play for the following
evening. The same night, carefully disguised, he fled to Dover,
and on the evening of the 27th embarked for Calais. Justly
troubled, although his conscience was but rarely scrupulous, he
did not dare to confront either the revelations of his agents, or
the hatred of his enemies. Lord Anglesea, who was not a Whig, but
a Hanoverian Tory, had said to him, the preceding year: "If I
discover that there is perfidy, I will pursue the ministers from
the foot of the throne to the Tower, and from the Tower to the
scaffold."
On the 9th of June, 1715, Walpole's report upon the conduct of
the deposed ministers was laid before the House of Commons.
Bolingbroke was immediately indicted. Lord Coningsby rose: "The
honorable president of your committee attacks the hand," said he,
"but I accuse the head. He has denounced the clerk. I address
myself to the judge; he has accused the servant; I demand that
justice be done the master. I accuse Robert, Duke of Oxford, as
guilty of high treason."
The adroit prudence of the duke served him better than the
alarmed remorse of Bolingbroke; he remained at his house, quietly
attending to his affairs, without seeming to avoid the threatened
prosecution. He was taken to the Tower, where he remained two
years before the passions of his accusers were sufficiently
appeased to allow him an acquittal. The Dutchess of Marlborough
vigorously opposed his release. While in prison, he received a
visit from the Duke of Ormond, who was less compromised by the
peace of Utrecht, as he had obeyed the orders of his superiors,
but was more deeply engaged in the Jacobite intrigues.
{139}
Ormond was preparing to fly, although at first he exhibited much
disdain. He urged Oxford to follow his example, but the latter
refused: "Farewell, Oxford without a head," said
Ormond.--"Farewell duke without a duchy," responded Harley. Both
recalled the adieus of the Prince of Orange and Count Egmont. The
Duke of Ormond never saw England again. Like Bolingbroke, he
entered the service of the Stuarts; less fortunate than
Bolingbroke, he was not disgraced by his new master, but followed
him from one attempt to another, and from retreat to retreat,
even to that last gloomy residence at Avignon, where he died in
1745. The storm was preparing; less dangerous than was feared,
but nevertheless severe, and destined to leave deep traces. In
their vengeance, the ministers employed a certain moderation, as
the spirit of their party was more violent than their acts. Young
Lord Stanhope, of Shelford, subsequently Lord Chesterfield, said
in his first speech in the House of Commons: "I have no desire to
shed the blood of my countrymen, still less that of a noble peer;
but I am persuaded that the safety of the country requires that
an example be made of those who have so unworthily betrayed it."
As soon as Bolingbroke reached Paris, he called upon Lord Stair,
the English ambassador. "I promised him not to engage in any
Jacobite undertaking," wrote he, after the interview, to Sir
William Wyndham; "and I have kept my word. I have written a
letter to Lord Stanhope, the Secretary of State, disclaiming all
intention of offending the government, and I will retire into
Dauphiné, in order to remove any objection that might be made
against my residence near the court of France."
{140}
Bolingbroke nevertheless saw the Marshal of Berwick before
departing for his retreat. When he learned that a bill of
attainder had been brought in against him, he received at the
same time an invitation from the Pretender to join him at
Commercy. He departed immediately, wearied already of his
inaction, and urged on by his anger and love of intrigue. He had
scarcely reached Lorraine when he accepted the seals of secretary
of state from King James III., although he fully comprehended the
vanity of all the Pretender's expectations. "My first
conversation with the chevalier," wrote he to Wyndham, "does not
respond to my expectations, and I assure you, in all truth, that
I have already begun to repent of my imprudence; at least, I am
convinced of yours and mine. He spoke like a man who only awaited
the moment of departure for some place in England or Scotland,
without well knowing where."
The hesitation of the leaders of the Jacobite party was great.
While the Duke of Ormond remained in England, he strenuously
insisted upon the necessity of co-operation from France,
affirming that they could not trust exclusively to a national
uprising. Having arrived in France, leaving the conspirators at
home without a leader, the duke, when urging the Chevalier St.
George to embark with him for England, repeated his assertions
and demands. "I have seen here," wrote Bolingbroke, "a crowd of
people, each one doing whatever seemed best to him, without
subordination, without order, without concert; they no longer
doubt the success of the enterprise; hope and anticipation are
read in the animated eyes of all the Irish. Those who know how to
read and write, are continually interchanging letters, and those
who have not attained that degree of knowledge, whisper their
secrets in the ear. The ministry is in the hands of both sexes."
{141}
Louis XIV. died on the 1st of September, 1715. "He was the best
friend of the Chevalier," said Bolingbroke, "and my hopes sunk as
he declined, and died when he expired." The most blind as well as
the most ardent among the Jacobites could not be seriously
deluded regarding the disposition of the regent; he was
indifferent and careless, and naturally inclined to oppose any
policy that the late king had followed, and was also reasonably
sensible of the dangers of a new war with England. The vessels
which, with the connivance of Louis XIV., had been armed at
Havre, under false names, for the service of the projected
expedition, were demanded by Lord Stair; their cargoes of arms
were at once disembarked. Admiral Sir George Byng appeared in the
channel with a squadron. Orders were sent to Lord Mar, who had
charge of the Pretender's affairs in Scotland, not to give the
signal for the rising, but to wait for new instructions. He had
already left London.
On the 27th of August, a grand re-union of the chief Jacobites
took place at Mar's castle, in the county of Aberdeen. On the 6th
of September, the royal standard of the Stuarts was raised in the
little village of Braemar. Sixty men only then surrounded it, but
soon the contagion spread from village to village, from fortress
to fortress. Some days later the country north of the Tay was
almost entirely in the hands of the insurgents.
The time for hesitation and prudence on the part of the chevalier
had passed; in fact he had already hesitated too long, in the
opinion of those who generously risked, for him, all that they
possessed. The inclemency of the weather, contradictory advice,
snares and enticements held out to him by Lord Stair, the return
of the Duke of Ormond, who had attempted, without success, to
land upon the coast of Devonshire, all these had retarded his
movements. It was not until the middle of December that the
Pretender, accompanied by six gentlemen, finally landed at
Dunkirk.
{142}
The unfortunate fate of his partisans in England had already been
decided. In Scotland it trembled in the balance; and the gloomy
forebodings of the most faithful servants of the house of Stuart
began to be realized. The Earl of Mar, restless and cunning,
clever in court intrigues, but destitute of all military talent,
as of all military knowledge, had lingered in the Highlands,
remaining for some time at Perth, where his forces increased
daily. The Duke of Argyle, placed by the government at the head
of the royal troops, found himself at Stirling menaced on all
sides by the Jacobites, who, however, did not advance. "When at
last Lord Mar drew the sword, he did not know what to do with
it," says the Duke of Berwick; "and thus was lost the most
favorable opportunity which has presented itself since 1688."
The Scotch had their eyes fixed upon England; the general
uprising in the south, anticipated by the Duke of Ormond, had
failed, as the plot was discovered, and the chief Jacobites--the
Duke of Powis, Lord Lansdowne, and Lord Duplin, were arrested.
The ministry demanded of the House of Commons authority to
impeach six of its members, compromised in the conspiracy. Sir
William Wyndham was defended in vain by his father-in-law, the
Duke of Somerset. After being concealed for several days he
delivered himself up to justice. Sir Thomas Foster succeeded in
escaping, and some days later headed an insurrection in
Northumberland. Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdington joined him,
and "King James III." was proclaimed, at Warkworth, to the sound
of trumpets. Being a Protestant, Sir Thomas was chosen General of
the English insurgents.
{143}
He counted upon combining his movements with those of Brigadier
Macintosh, of Bordlase, who had just landed at Aberlady. The
alarm extended to Edinburgh. A movement of the Duke of Argyle
decided the Jacobites to throw themselves into the citadel of
Leith. The Duke arrived under the walls of the fortress. "We do
not know the meaning of the word surrender," replied the
Highlanders to the demands of the detested chief of the
Campbells; "and we have no desire to learn it. We are resolved
neither to give nor to receive any quarter. If his grace is
disposed to attempt the assault, we are determined to repulse
him."
Noble boastings are sometimes the consolation of proud souls when
their cause appears doubtful. The Duke of Argyle did not attempt
the assault, but returned to Edinburgh, from where he soon
advanced to Stirling, now threatened by the Earl of Mar. His
presence destroyed the hope of surprising the capital. Macintosh
marched to the south, and joined the English insurgents at Kelso.
The Northumbrians wished to re-enter England, and endeavored to
compel the Highlanders to follow them; they refused. "If we are
to be sacrificed," said they, "we intend it shall be in our
country." Foster led his troops as far as Preston. A great number
of Catholic gentlemen there joined them, bringing in their train
crowds of peasants without arms and without discipline. Generals
Carpenter and Wills, both experienced officers, who had served
with distinction in Spain, advanced against the rebels from the
north and from the south. When the news of their approach reached
the insurgents, their commander was in bed sleeping off the
effects of a drunken debauch. Lord Kenmure had great difficulty
in arousing him sufficiently to give intelligible orders.
{144}
On the 12th of November, 1715, the Jacobites were attacked at
Preston by General Wills. The defence was feeble, although the
insurgents, concealed in the houses, killed many of the soldiers.
The leaders were divided. Foster lost courage and proposed a
capitulation. "If the rebels wish to lay down their arms, and
surrender at discretion," replied the English general, "I will
prevent my soldiers from cutting them in pieces, until I have
received orders from my government."
The Highlanders were furious; they brandished their weapons, and
threatened to cut their way through the royal troops to gain
their own country. But already Lord Derwentwater and Brigadier
Macintosh had surrendered themselves as hostages, and the
soldiers had no other resource than obedience. Prisoners of note
abounded in the camp of General Wills; many were to pay with
their lives for the part they had taken in an insurrection,
inconsiderately undertaken and shamefully and sadly terminated.
Only seventeen men had been killed when the little army of
Jacobites surrendered at Preston. On the same day, the 12th of
November, the Earl of Mar, who had at last shaken off his
lethargy and left Perth, arrived at Ardoch, four leagues from
Stirling: his forces amounted to about ten thousand men. The
Highland chiefs led their clans. A body of gentlemen, well
mounted and well equipped, formed a striking contrast to a crowd
of peasants badly armed and half naked; but nevertheless resolved
to fight.
When Lord Mar learned that Argyle was advancing towards him, and
that he occupied Dumblane, he assembled his principal officers,
and offered them the alternative of battle or retreat. "Fight!
Fight!" cried the Highland chiefs. Soon the same cry spread
throughout the army; hats were waved and swords were brandished.
When the troops of Argyle began the contest in the valley of
Sheriffmuir, the line of battle of the insurgents was imposing.
"I have never seen regular troops form a finer line of battle,"
subsequently said General Wightman, "and their officers conducted
themselves with all the bravery imaginable."
{145}
Personal heroism and undisciplined fury were ineffectual when
directed by a chief incapable and devoid of energy. The
Highlanders forced the left wing of Argyle's army, while that
general was pursuing their right, which he had quickly routed.
The divisions of the army thus became separated, and had no
communication with each other: but Argyle, returning from the
pursuit, reformed his regiments upon the field of battle, while
Mar, triumphant, at the head of his Highlanders, but anxious,
uncertain, and fearing an ambuscade, was slowly uniting his
forces. When the enemy appeared, at the foot of the hill, the
Scotch chiefs were impatiently awaiting his orders to charge.
"Oh, for an hour of Dundee," already cried Gorden of Glenbucket.
The bagpipes sounded the retreat, and Mar withdrew, without
attempting a final effort "The battle is won," said he to his
lieutenants, in the hope of calming their irritation. The Duke of
Argyle retired to Dumblane. On the following day he re-appeared
on the field of battle, but the Earl of Mar had not returned.
"Your Grace has not gained a complete victory," said one of his
officers. Argyle responded by singing two lines of an old Scotch
song:
"If 'tis not weel wound, weel wound, weel wound,
If 'tis not weel wound, we'll wind it again."
The same ardor also animated some of the Scotch in the rebel
army. "If we have not yet gained the victory," said General
Hamilton, "we must fight every week until we do gain it." But
uneasiness and lassitude already pervaded the army and extended
even to some of the leaders. Lord Sutherland advanced at the head
of the Whig forces. The Highlanders were urged to conceal their
booty.
{146}
Many detachments had already left the army and returned to Perth,
when the Chevalier St. George finally landed at Peterhead, on the
22nd of December, 1715. The forces of the Duke of Argyle were
increased by the arrival of auxiliary Dutch troops, that had been
demanded from the States-General by the English Government, and
henceforth his army was larger than that of the rebels.
On the 8th of January, 1716, the Pretender established himself,
without opposition, in the royal palace at Scone. The ceremony of
the coronation was announced for the 23rd of the same month.
The joy of the insurgents upon learning of the arrival of "_the
King_," was great. "We are now going to live like soldiers,
and to measure ourselves with our enemies," they said, "in place
of remaining here inactive, waiting the vain resolutions of a
frightened council." On his part, James, upon landing, had
written to Bolingbroke: "Behold me, thanks to God, in my ancient
kingdom. I find things in good shape, and I think that all will
go well if the friends of your side do their duty, as I will do
mine. Show this note to the regent."
The illusions did not last long on either side. The Pretender
found the army of his partisans diminished, disordered, and
divided. He was not personally qualified to act upon such men,
and his virtues were better suited to a monarch peacefully seated
upon his throne than to an exiled prince, obliged to conquer his
crown. "He was tall and thin," wrote one of the adherents, "pale
and grave. He spoke but little; his conversation was vague, and
his manners and character seemed measured. I do not know how he
would have been in his pleasures; it was not the time for such
thoughts. We had no opportunity of gayety, and I never saw him
smile. I will not conceal that at the time when we saw him whom
we called our king, we were not in any way reanimated by his
presence, and that if he was disappointed in us, we were ten
times more so in him.
{147}
We saw nothing in him that looked like spirit. He never showed
either animation or courage, in order to cheer us. Our men began
to despise him and to ask if he could talk. His physiognomy was
dull and heavy. He took no pleasure in mingling with the
soldiers, either to see them drill or exercise. It was said that
our condition discouraged him: I say that the figure he made
among us discouraged us also. If he had sent us five thousand
good troops, instead of coming himself, the result would have
been different."
James III. had nevertheless done an act of power. He issued
proclamations to the army, and these were spread throughout the
country. Two Presbyterian ministers only substituted his name for
that of King George in their public prayers; the Episcopalians,
_en masse_, rallied around the new monarch, who nevertheless
refused a promise of tolerance to the Anglican Church of Ireland,
and whose assurances were doubtful even in regard to the church
of England. He affected great devotion to his friends and to his
country. "Whatever happens," said he, in his address to his
council, "I will not leave my faithful subjects any reason to
reproach me for not having done all that they might have expected
of me. Those who neglect their duty and their proper interest,
will be responsible for the evil which may happen. Misfortune
will be nothing new to me. From my cradle, all my life has been a
series of misfortunes, and I am ready, if it pleases God, to
endure the threats of your enemies and mine."
{148}
On the 31st of January, on the approach of the Duke of Argyle,
urged and constrained to action by General Cadogan, recently
arrived from London, the insurgent army began its retreat. The
soldiers were discouraged, and the leaders uncertain or
irritated. "What has the king come here for?"' asked the
soldiers: "is it to see his subjects killed by the executioner,
without striking a blow in defence? Let us die like men, not as
dogs."--"If his Majesty is disposed to die as a prince, he will
find ten thousand Scotch gentlemen to die with him," said a rich
country gentleman of Aberdeen. But the forces of the Duke of
Argyle were overwhelming. The councillors of the Pretender,
alarmed and trembling for his safety as well as their own, and
hoping for better conditions in the absence of their prince,
urged him to depart. On the evening of the 4th of February,
secretly, and after having taken every precaution necessary to
deceive the army, the Chevalier left the quarters of the Earl of
Mar, whither he had gone on foot. Accompanied by that leader, he
entered a small boat and was taken on board a French ship which
awaited him. General Gordon was now at the head of an army which
was disbanding, in the midst of a country devastated by fire. The
prince had ordered the burning of all villages as far as
Stirling. He and all his adherents were now exposed to the
vengeance of that government which they had so recently menaced.
On departing, and as a compensation for so many evils, the
Pretender wrote to the Duke of Argyle, sending him all the money
he possessed: "I pray you," said he, "have this sum distributed
among the inhabitants of the villages which have been burned, in
order that I may at least have the satisfaction of not having
caused the ruin of any one; I, who would have died for them all."
{149}
The honor of saving a people costs more dearly and necessitates
more sacrifices than the Chevalier St. George was inclined to
believe, in his indolent nature; he had failed personally, as
well as in his political and military enterprises. But the
Jacobite party was not destroyed; it was still to nourish long
its hopes and to shed much blood for his cause. The insurrection
of 1715 was at an end. The Highlanders sought refuge in their
mountains, and the great lords and gentlemen either concealed
themselves, or escaped from Scotland and increased the little
exiled court. James arrived at Gravelines, and from there he went
to St. Germain. Bolingbroke joined him immediately. The prince
desired to remain a few days in France, but the regent would not
permit it, and also refused to see him. He desired to find a
refuge with the Duke of Lorraine, before the English government
could interfere. The chevalier separated from his minister with
feigned protestations of friendship. Three days later the Duke of
Ormond presented himself before Bolingbroke, bearer of a letter
from James, which thanked him for his services, of which he had
no longer need, and ordered him to deliver all the state papers
into the hands of Ormond. "The papers were held without
difficulty in an envelope of ordinary size," ironically remarked
Bolingbroke. "I delivered them solemnly to my Lord Ormond, as
well as the seals. There were some letters of the chevalier which
would have been inconvenient to show to the duke, and which he
had without doubt forgotten. I subsequently sent them to him, by
a sure hand, disdaining to play him false by executing his orders
to the letter. I did not wish to appear annoyed, being far from
angry."
Bolingbroke deceived himself: his anger against the Jacobites
constantly displayed itself during the remainder of his agitated
and restless life. With a disdainful thoughtlessness, many times
too familiar to princes, James measured the devotion of his
secretary of state; but he had judged less justly the services
which he had already rendered him, and which he might still
render.
{150}
"It would seem that one must have lost his senses," wrote Marsna
Berwick, "in order not to comprehend the arrant folly which
induced King James to deprive himself of the only Englishman able
to govern his affairs. Bolingbroke was endowed with brilliant
talents, which had advanced him, at an early age, to the highest
offices. He exercised a great influence upon the Tory party, of
which he was the soul. Nothing could be more deplorable than to
separate himself from such a man, at a time when he was most
necessary, and when it was important not to make new enemies. I
have been a witness of the conduct of Bolingbroke: he had done
for King James all that he was able to do."
The entreaties of the queen mother were unable to appease
Bolingbroke. "I am free," said he, "and may my hand wither if I
ever take the sword or pen in the service of your son." From that
time all the thoughts of the exile turned towards England, while
the prince whom he had served, and who had not appreciated him,
departed for Avignon, thus virtually abandoning his royal party
by this retreat to a Papal country, the most odious and most
suspected of all, by the English.
Scotland had suffered from the presence of armies, by the
destruction of crops, by the flight or death of a great number of
the gentry, and by the new animosities excited between the clans
engaged on the different sides. The government had taken but few
prisoners, and even those were unimportant. The English
insurrection had delivered to justice, or to the vengeance of the
Whigs, many important hostages. Lord Widdington, Lord Nairn, Lord
Kenmure, the Earls of Nithisdale and of Derwentwater, were
accused of high treason. All were condemned. The entreaties of
their friends obtained the pardon of Lords Nairn, Carnwath and
Widdington. Lord Wintoun, who alone had plead "not guilty," and
in consequence had undergone a trial, succeeded in escaping from
the Tower.
{151}
Lady Nithisdale had the happiness of saving her husband, who
escaped disguised in her clothing. Lord Derwentwater and Lord
Kenmure alone remained. Many members of both houses were inclined
towards clemency. "I am indignant," said Walpole, with a severity
foreign to his character, "to see members of this great body so
unfaithful to their duty that they are able to open their mouths
without blushing in favor of rebels and parricides." Lord
Nottingham boldly declared for the condemned; he was dismissed
from the ministry. On the 24th of February, 1716, the two lords
perished upon the scaffold at Tower Hill, proclaiming to the last
moment their faithful allegiance to King James. Condemnations
were less numerous among the rebels of an inferior order. Justice
had been severe, but it had not become vengeance. "The rebel who
declares himself boldly, justly compromises his life," affirms
Gibbon, with positive equity. New measures, purely repressive,
were voted against the Catholics, among whom were naturally
reckoned many Jacobites. Among the constant partisans of the
fallen house, the devotion, the fidelity, the honest and sincere
attachment, merit the respect of men and the sympathetic
indulgence of history. Indignation and contempt belong to those
who had nourished hopes, encouraged intrigues, even furnished
resources secretly and perfidiously, like the Duke of
Marlborough, the General-in-chief of the armies of King George,
without risking a day of their lives nor an atom of their
grandeur. The splendor of genius and the most brilliant successes
can never efface such a stain. Slowly and noiselessly,
Marlborough had lost in public opinion, and he was soon to fall
into an intellectual and physical decadence: worthy chastisement
of a life, a singular mixture of great power of mind and moral
baseness, of cold calculation and violent passions, of glory and
of ignominy.
{152}
Attacked by paralysis, in May, 1716, Marlborough expired on the
16th of June, 1722, and was interred, with royal honors in
Westminster Abbey. "I was a man then," said the invalid Duke,
when contemplating his portrait in a picture which represented
the battle of Blenheim. He left an immense fortune, the results
of the great offices which both he and the Duchess had held, as
well as the exactions that his extreme avidity for money had led
him into. "I have heard his widow say," said Voltaire, "that
after the division made to four children, there still remained to
her, without thanks to the court, a revenue of £70,000."
National gratitude had contributed its share to this enormous
accumulation of wealth. It is to the honor of England that she
has always recompensed her great servants magnificently.
Parliament, on its own authority, and by a legitimate exercise of
its power, now took an important step. The experience of the last
twenty years of triennial legislative elections had convinced
many sound thinkers that an agitation so frequently renewed was
dangerous to the electors, as well as to the liberty of action of
those elected. It was remembered that William III. had once
refused his assent to the bill, which was subsequently imposed
upon him. A new law decided that the duration of the parliaments
should henceforth be seven years. Usage has often abridged this
term by a year, but it has remained, notwithstanding frequent
infractions, the regular limit for legislatures. About the same
time, and in spite of serious obstacles, that clause of the act
of Establishment which formerly forbade the sovereigns to leave
the soil of Great Britain, was repealed by the houses. The desire
of George I. to visit his hereditary states became irresistible;
he had long been detained by the jealousy which he felt regarding
his son.
{153}
It was with regret and upon the formal advice of his ministers,
that he decided to confide the government to the Prince of Wales
during his absence. "This family has always been quarrelsome,"
said Lord Carteret, one day, to the full Council, "and it will
quarrel always, from generation to generation."
The king left England on the 17th of July, 1716, accompanied by
the Secretary of State, Stanhope. The latter profited by his
presence upon the continent, and formed, with the States-General
and the Emperor, a treaty of defensive alliance: the only
guarantee which he was able to obtain from the jealous
susceptibility of the court of Vienna, and the restless
feebleness of the Dutch negotiators. Heinsius was no longer in
power, and soon afterwards died. "Forced to rely upon many heads,
the government no longer has a head," said Horace Walpole,
brother of the leader of the House of Commons and minister to the
Hague; "there are here as many masters as wills."
An understanding with France, regarding new enterprises of the
Pretender, became necessary to England. The regent was not
personally opposed to it; he was weary of the indolence and
cowardly incapacity of the Chevalier St. George; he was besides
urged by the Abbé Dubois, formerly his tutor, corrupt himself and
a corruptor of others, and already secretly at the head of
foreign affairs, but waiting until he should be officially
appointed, and aspiring to become prime minister.
Without respect for law, destitute of all religious convictions,
and consequently inaccessible to the motive which led many good
Catholics, in Europe, to desire the re-establishment of the
Stuarts, Dubois was able, often far-seeing, and sometimes even
bold; he had a mind active, clear, and moderately practical.
{154}
The alliance of England seemed to him useful to his master and to
France. He adroitly availed himself of his former relations with
General Stanhope, when commander of the English troops in Spain,
in order to begin secret negotiations, which soon extended to
Holland. "The character of our regent," wrote Dubois, on the 10th
of March, 1716, "leaves no room to fear that he prides himself
upon perpetuating the prejudices and the policy of our ancient
court; and as you can remark for yourself, he has too much spirit
not to recognize his true interests."
Dubois carried to the Hague the propositions of the regent. King
George was expected there; the clever diplomat concealed the
object of his journey under the pretext of buying rare books. He
went, he said, to redeem from the hands of the Jews the famous
picture of the Seven Sacraments, by Poussin, recently stolen from
Paris. The order of the succession to the crowns of France and
England, conformably to the peace of Utrecht, was guaranteed in
the treaty. It was the only decided advantage to the regent, who
hoped thereby to confirm the renunciation of Philip V. Dubois had
demanded that all the conditions of the treaty of 1713 should be
recognized. Stanhope formally refused. "It has taken me three
days to get out of this with the Abbé Dubois," wrote he to
England: as to the remainder, all the concessions came from
France; her territory was forbidden to the Jacobites, and the
Pretender, who was established at Avignon, was to be invited to
cross the Alps. The English demanded the abandonment of the works
on the canal at Mardyke, destined to replace the port of Dunkirk.
The Dutch claimed commercial advantages. Dubois yielded upon all
these points, but defended to the last, with a vain tenacity, the
title of King of France, that the English still disputed to our
monarchs. Stanhope was urged to terminate the negotiations.
Diplomatic complications that threatened to lead to war in the
north gravely pre-occupied George I., always absorbed in the
interests of his patrimonial States. "The scope of his mind does
not extend beyond the Electorate." said Lord Chesterfield;
"England is too large a morsel for him."
{155}
Unfriendly relations had long existed between King George and the
Czar, Peter the Great, that powerful and erratic genius, who by
his personal merit laid the foundations of a great empire. He had
made advances to France.
The Dutch were slow in deciding, but in October, 1716, the
preliminaries of the treaty were signed by Stanhope and the Abbé
Dubois only. On the 6th of January, 1717, the ratifications were
finally exchanged at the Hague. "I signed at midnight," wrote
Dubois, triumphantly, to the regent; "you are no longer a page,
and I have no more fear." The treaty of the Triple Alliance
gained for Dubois the office of secretary of foreign affairs. It
disturbed the English ministry and disorganized momentarily the
Whig party. Lord Townshend was hostile to the haste shown by
Stanhope in concluding the treaty; his brother-in-law, Horace
Walpole, had refused his signature. Court intrigues aggravated
this discontent; the king, besides, was irritated against Lord
Townshend and Robert Walpole, whom he regarded as favorable to
his son. Always honest, often rude, and with but little tact,
Lord Townshend believed he could obtain from George I.
discretionary powers for the Prince of Wales. This rendered his
fall inevitable. Even before his return to England, the king
dismissed his minister, offering to him in exchange for his
office, the vice-royalty of Ireland; but scarcely had the session
opened, when the animosities became more aggravated, and the
apparent reconciliations were broken off.
{156}
Lord Townshend and Robert Walpole withdrew from public affairs.
Lord Sunderland, as able, although not as corrupt as his father,
became secretary of state; Addison, at the same time, was called
to the ministry, and General Stanhope was appointed First Lord of
the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer. In spite of the
ministerial modifications, the power remained in the hands of the
Whigs. "While there remain Whigs disposed to serve him, the king
is decided to be served by the Whigs," wrote Stanhope, while yet
in Hanover, with George I., "and I will not be the one to turn
his Majesty from this good resolution, by refusing to take some
trouble, or to expose myself to whatever peril may arise."
The ministry and England were at this epoch greatly disturbed by
a new intrigue, organized in Europe, in favor of the Pretender.
Spain was governed by Cardinal Alberoni, the crafty, ambitious,
and bold Italian who had placed Elizabeth Farnese upon the throne
with Philip V., and through her exercised the power. He had
regulated the finances and industry, he had prepared a fleet and
an army; "meditating," he said, "the peace of the world;" and he
began this great enterprise, by maneuvres which could lead to
nothing less than setting fire to the four corners of Europe, in
the name of a feeble and dull king, and of a queen ambitious,
artful, and unpopular, "whom he had locked up, carrying the key
in his pocket," says St. Simon. He dreamed of establishing the
empire of Spain in Italy, of disturbing the government of the
regent in France, of overthrowing the Protestant king of England
by re-establishing the Stuarts upon the throne, and of raising
himself to the supreme power in Church and State. Already he had
obtained from Pope Clement XI., the cardinal's hat, by
concealing, under the pretext of war against the Turks, the
preparations which he was making against Italy.
{157}
Having remained neutral during the Jacobite insurrection of 1715,
he entered into the projects of Görtz, a passionate intriguer,
animated against King George by an ardent rancor, and using his
influence upon the heroic madman who reigned in Sweden, in order
to engage him also in the Jacobite plots. The alliance with the
Czar, Peter the Great, was to advance the projects of the
Chevalier. A first naval enterprise delivered Sardinia into the
hands of Alberoni. The Spanish troops entered Sicily. The Emperor
and Victor Amadeus were aroused; the Pope, overwhelmed by
reproaches from these two princes, wept, according to his custom,
saying that he had damned himself by raising Alberoni to the
Roman purple. Dubois profited by the agitations created in Europe
by the belligerant attitude of the all-powerful minister, to
finally draw the emperor into the alliance with France and
England. He renounced his pretensions to Spain and the Indies,
and returned Sardinia to Savoy, receiving Sicily in return. The
succession to the Duchies of Parma and of Tuscany was assured to
the children of the Queen of Spain. The Quadruple Alliance seemed
to promise peace to Europe; the Dutch and the Duke of Savoy
reluctantly consented. France and England engaged to gain the
consent of Spain by force of arms, if they were not able to
obtain it peacefully within a certain time.
King George I. demanded from Parliament an increase of naval
subsidies. A considerable fleet, under the orders of Admiral
Bing, soon appeared in Spanish waters. Lord Stanhope departed for
Madrid in order to support by negotiations the salutary effect of
the presence of the English fleet. Neither the persuasions of the
minister, nor the long line of ships presented by the admiral,
acted upon the spirit of Alberoni. He tore up the paper which the
admiral presented.
{158}
"Execute the orders of the king your master," said he, angrily.
Upon learning of the departure of Lord Stanhope, he had
immediately written: "If my Lord Stanhope comes as a legislator,
he may dispense with his journey. If he comes as a mediator, I
will receive him; but in any case I inform him that at the first
attack of our vessels by an English squadron, Spain has not an
inch of ground where I would be willing to answer for his
person."
Lord Stanhope had scarcely left Spain, when Admiral Bing, in
conjunction with General Daun, who commanded for the emperor,
attacked the Spanish fleet off Cape Passero. The Spaniards had
recently taken possession of Palermo; Messina opened its gates to
them. The Piedmontese garrison had crowded into the citadel, when
the victory of the English and the destruction of the growing
Spanish fleet suddenly changed the face of affairs. Messina
delivered, and Palermo blockaded, without hope of succor, were to
Cardinal Alberoni a mortal blow. Furious, he seized the persons
and the goods of English residents in Spain, and drove out the
consuls. Trumpeters were sent through the streets of Madrid, with
orders to the people, forbidding any discussion regarding the
affairs of Sicily.
The hope of a diversion in the north, favorable to the projects
of the Jacobites, as well as those of Alberoni, was destroyed by
the death of the King of Sweden, Charles XII., killed on the 12th
of December, 1718, before Frederickshall.
Alberoni summoned the Pretender to Madrid. The conspiracy of
Cellamare, absurd and frivolous, organized in Paris against the
power of the regent, by the Spanish ambassador and the Duchess of
Maine, was discovered by Dubois early in December, 1718.
{159}
The declarations of war from France and England succeeded each
other rapidly (Dec. 17, 1718, Jan. 9, 1719). At the same time
King Philip V., by a proclamation, on the 25th of December, 1718,
pronounced all his renunciations null and void, and claimed his
rights to the crown of France upon the death of Louis XV. At the
same time he made an appeal to the States-General against the
tyranny of the Regent, who had allied himself, he said, to the
enemies of both countries.
In England, as in France, Alberoni counted upon internal
divisions and party animosities. The Pretender occupied the royal
palace of Buen Retiro, at Madrid; the King and Queen of Spain
visited him. A small squadron, secretly armed at Cadiz, put to
sea, under the orders of the Duke of Ormond. Public anxiety in
England was so great, that the government of King George accepted
auxiliary forces sent by the emperor and the States-General. The
regent offered troops, and sent to London all the information
which he received. A reward was offered for the capture of the
Duke of Ormond. Once more the sea protected the coast of England,
and the king whom she had chosen. The Spanish flotilla was
dispersed by a tempest; two frigates only, having on board Lord
Keith, known in Europe under his hereditary title of Earl
Marischal, Lord Seaforth, and the Marquis Tullibardine, landed
upon the coast of Scotland, with three hundred Spanish soldiers.
Some gentlemen joined them. The force of the rebels had increased
to about two thousand men, when General Wightman marched against
them. Some unimportant engagements were favorable to the rebels,
but finally they were defeated. The Highlanders disappeared in
the inaccessible recesses of their mountains; the Spaniards were
taken prisoners and conducted to Edinburgh. The three leaders of
the insurrection withdrew to the western isles, from where they
soon embarked; the one to return some years later to Scotland
(Lord Seaforth), another to die of grief in the Tower, after the
insurrection of 1745 (Tullibardine), and the third to enter the
service of the King of Prussia and to add his name to the
diplomatic intrigues of Europe. Voltaire and Rousseau were in
turn associated with Lord Marischal.
{160}
As usual, the humble partisans of the fallen house suffered
bitterly for their blind fidelity. "I made a tour through the
difficult passes of the country of Seaforth," wrote General
Wightman, "and we terrified the rebels by burning the houses of
the guilty, while we spared the peaceful subjects."
Alberoni, weary of the ill-fortune of the Stuarts, and of the
useless burden that it imposed upon all those who desired to
serve them, informed the Pretender that he should leave Madrid.
His intended bride, the Princess Clementine Sobieski, recently
arrested by order of the emperor, at the instigation of England,
had escaped from her prison; James joined her at Rome, where
their marriage was solemnized.
The war was brilliant, notwithstanding the deceptions with which
Alberoni incessantly quieted his master. "The regent is able,
whenever he desires, to send a French army," wrote the cardinal,
on the 21st of November, 1718.
"Assure him publicly that he will not have a shot fired against
him here, and that the king our master will have supplies ready
for him." The army in fact entered Spain in March, 1719. The old
Marshal Villars declined the honor of commanding against the
grandson of Louis XIV. The Prince of Conti bore the title of
general-in-chief. The Duke of Berwick, less scrupulous than
Villars, accepted the effective functions; notwithstanding his
former connection with Spain, the presence of his eldest son the
Duke of Leria, in the Spanish ranks, and the services that Philip
V. had just rendered to the head of the house of Stuart.
{161}
Alberoni conducted the king, the queen, and the prince of
Asturias to the camp. Philip V. expected the defection of the
French army, en masse. No one moved; some refugees made an
attempt with some officers; their messenger was hung.
Fuenterabra, St. Sebastian, and the castle of Urgel soon fell
into the hands of the French. Another division burned six vessels
which were upon the docks. Everywhere the English brought ruin
upon the Spanish navy. Their fleets, separate or united to the
French, destroyed the Spanish vessels at Santona, at Centera, and
in the port of Vigo; everywhere the magazines were delivered to
the flames. This cruel and disastrous war against an enemy whose
best troops were fighting at a distance, usefully served the
passions as well as the interests of England.
"It is very necessary," wrote Berwick, "that the government be
able to make the next Parliament believe that they have spared
nothing in order to decrease the Spanish navy." During this time
the English fleet, and the troops of the emperor, under the
orders of the Count of Mercy, attacked the Spanish army in
Sicily; it defended itself heroically, but was without resources,
without reinforcements, and diminishing every day. After a
momentary success at Franca Villa, the Marquis of Leyde held only
Palermo and the environs of Etna.
An attempted insurrection, poorly seconded by some Spanish
vessels, failed in Brittany. Three gentlemen and a priest
perished upon the scaffold. "Never have I seen a plot more poorly
organized," says Duclos, in his Memoirs; "many did not know what
they were fighting for." The attempt of Alberoni to excite a
revolt in England and France, did not succeed any better than the
war in Spain or Sicily.
{162}
The Spaniards were everywhere defeated, and the cardinal was
vigorously attacked at home. He made overtures of peace at London
and at Paris. Dubois wrote to Stanhope, who responded
immediately: "We would commit a great error if we did not
consolidate the peace by the overthrow of the minister who has
caused the war. His insatiable ambition has been the only cause
of hostilities; if he is compelled to accept the peace, he will
yield momentarily to necessity, but with a confirmed resolution
of seizing the first opportunity for vengeance. Thank God he does
not know either what he can do or what he ought to attempt. He
recognizes no other condition for peace than exhaustion and
weakness; let us not leave him time to recover himself. Demand
from the king that he be sent from Spain. No stipulation could be
more advantageous for his Catholic Majesty and for his people. It
is a good thing thus to give to Europe an example which may
intimidate turbulent ministers, unfaithful to treaties, and who
allow themselves to attack impudently the persons of princes."
Three months later, on the 4th of December, 1718, after a
prolonged audience with Philip V., who had treated him with his
usual kindness, Alberoni suddenly received an order to leave
Madrid within eight days, and Spain within three weeks. No
entreaty would induce the king or queen to see him. The cardinal
retired at first to Genoa, and then to Rome, where he passed the
remainder of his life, in the peaceful enjoyment of an immense
fortune. The country which he had oppressed, but reanimated and
served, soon fell into its former lethargy. "The queen is
possessed with a devil," said he, in his retirement; "if she
finds a soldier who has any resources of mind, and is a good
general, she will cause an uproar in Europe." The queen did not
find a general, and on the 17th of January, 1720, the
preliminaries of peace were signed at the Hague.
{163}
The definitive articles were not agreed upon until the 13th of
June, 1721. In the interval, thanks to the union with France,
England was enabled to put an end to the war with Sweden and
Denmark. King George gained the Duchies of Bremen and of Verden,
for which he had long entertained pretensions. Peter the Great
alone remained in arms. Europe had at last gained the repose
which she was to enjoy for many years.
The war had not suspended parliamentary struggles. In 1718, upon
a sincerely liberal proposition of Lord Stanhope, the _Acts of
Schism_ and of _Occasional Conformity_ were repealed by
the Houses. The ministers desired to go further and amend the
_Test Act_, in order to place the Dissenters upon a footing
of legitimate religious equality with the members of the Anglican
Church.
The bishops were divided upon the question. "We have already had
much trouble," said Lord Sunderland; "but if we touch the Test,
all will be lost." Lord Stanhope desired to include the
Catholics; the day of liberty and justice for them had not yet
arrived.
King George had just returned to London, after a recent voyage
into Germany, when a bold proposition was made in the House of
Lords. The peers had not yet forgotten the numerous creations
hazarded by the Earl of Oxford in order to assure a majority to
the court; the character of the Prince of Wales offered few
guarantees, and the foreign favorites were eager for honors and
distinctions. The thought was conceived of limiting the number of
peers by restraining the royal prerogative. The king made no
objection. "His Majesty has so strong a desire to establish the
peerage of the realm upon a basis which will assure forever the
constitutional liberty of Parliament," said Lord Stanhope, "that
he consents not to hinder this great work by the exercise of his
prerogative."
{164}
The discussion was long, animated, and many times resumed; the
good judgment of the nation finally prevailed over the rancors of
the past, and over the jealousies of the future. Adopted by the
Lords, the bill was rejected in the House of Commons by a large
majority. "The road to the temple of fame formerly passed through
the temple of virtue," said Walpole; "this bill makes it
necessary to arrive at honor through the winding sheet of an old
decrepid lord, or the grave of an extinct noble family." It is
the sole happiness of England, and one of the sources of her
grandeur, as well as of her security, to have maintained upon the
ancient bases a force in the state constantly renewed and
liberally recruited by personal merit.
This check to the ministry was important; but a greater shock,
which was to overthrow it and overwhelm the country in ruin, was
preparing. At the same time that Paris and France were a prey to
the fever for wild speculations, excited by the system of Law,
England, for other reasons and from other pretexts, suffered an
analogous contagion, accompanied by the same fatal results. The
South Sea Company had been founded in 1711, by Harley. In
guarantee for the payment of the national debt, important
privileges had then been accorded to him. In 1719 the directors
of the company proposed to liquidate the public debt in
twenty-six years, upon condition that the different claims were
to be concentrated in their hands, and that they would be
supplied with new privileges as well as great latitude in their
negotiations. The Bank of England disputed with the South Sea
Company the honor and supposed profit of this enterprise, which
was put up at auction. A bill of Parliament assured the monopoly
to the company, which had engaged to pay seven and a half million
sterling.
{165}
In order to sustain this enormous burden, the directors plunged
into the wildest speculations. Walpole had predicted the fatal
effects, but without measuring the criminal folly of the leaders,
and the stupid avidity of the followers. The shares of the
company increased from one hundred and thirty to a thousand
pounds sterling; while new societies were formed for the working
of the most insane industries. Raising the wrecks upon the coast
of Ireland, the freshening of the waters of the sea, the
fabrication of the oil of turnsole, the importation of donkeys
from Spain, the fattening of pork, formed simultaneously the
objects of fictitious speculations, suddenly arrested at the
instigation of the South Sea Company, jealous and anxious to
concentrate upon their enterprise all the energy of the
stock-jobbers. Exchange Alley became the rival of Quincampoix
street; the greatest lords, the most delicate ladies;
ecclesiastics elbowed merchants and servants, all hurrying to
secure for themselves the new stocks put in circulation, and the
fabulous profits which were expected from them. The Prince of
Wales himself consented to become a director of the company for
the working of copper mines in Wales. The intervention of the
ministry was necessary to threaten the company with prosecution,
before his royal highness would consent to withdraw with a profit
of £40,000.
The edifice of Law, in France, began to totter; the ruin of the
fictitious companies in England soon involved all reasonable and
legitimate speculations. In a few weeks the stock of the South
Sea Company fell below three hundred pounds sterling; the
suddenness of the catastrophe seriously involved the English
speculators. Everywhere families were ruined, fortunes the most
solid were shaken, and character and reputations were lost. "The
very name of the South Sea Company became odious," says a
contemporary.
{166}
In vain was Walpole, who had recently retired to his country
house at Houghton, recalled to London to seek a remedy for the
evils which he had foreseen; but the ruin was beyond his efforts
and power. Public anger and indignation knew no bounds. The king,
who was in Hanover, returned precipitately, and Parliament was
convoked for the 8th of December. "I avow," said Lord Molesworth,
to the House of Commons, "that the ordinary laws do not reach the
directors of the South Sea Company, but extraordinary crimes call
aloud for extraordinary remedies. The Roman lawgivers had not
foreseen the possible existence of a parricide; but as soon as
the first monster appeared, he was sewed in a sack and cast
headlong into the Tiber; and I shall be content to inflict the
same treatment on the authors of our present ruin."
The calm good sense of Walpole, as well as his prudent foresight,
powerfully advanced his ascendancy in Parliament. He succeeded in
controlling the unchained passions. "If London was on fire, wise
men would endeavor to extinguish the flames before they sought
the incendiaries. We have a matter of still greater urgency: to
save the public credit." Able and wise measures had been
presented to Parliament, but public vengeance was not satisfied;
a thorough inquiry ended in the discovery of grave evidences of
corruption and bribery. The discussions became so violent that
the doors of the House were closed and the keys placed upon the
table. The German favorites of the king, the Duchess of Kendal
and the Countess of Platen, the Lord Treasurer, the Earl of
Sunderland and Mr. Aislabie the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and
many other inferior officers of the government, were found to be
seriously compromised. A parliamentary quarrel between Lords
Wharton and Stanhope agitated the latter so violently that he had
an apoplectic fit and died the next day, to the great regret of
the public who had never doubted his honesty.
{167}
The Secretary of State, Craggs, justly accused of having received
a bribe from the directors of the company, died of the small pox;
his father, the Postmaster-General, took poison. Aislabie was
sent to the Tower, and the greater part of his property was
confiscated. All the property of the directors was seized, and
they were declared forever incapable of holding any public office
or of sitting in Parliament. Lord Sunderland had lost
considerable sums: "He is a dupe, but not an accomplice,"
scornfully said even his enemies. He was acquitted, but
nevertheless could not preserve his power. Walpole succeeded him
as first Lord of the Treasury. Sunderland died on the 17th of
April, 1721, some weeks after the general elections, and two
months before his illustrious father-in-law, the Duke of
Marlborough.
Robert Walpole had finally attained the power which he was to
exercise during twenty years, for the repose, if not always for
the honor and moral grandeur of his country. Jealous of his
authority, to the extent of removing from the circle about the
king all those not his friends, and even those of his friends
whom he could not control absolutely, he encountered, at the
outset, the intrigues of the Jacobites, re-awakened by the
general discontent and by the new aspirations which the birth of
a son awakened in the Pretender.
A new expedition was prepared under the orders of the Duke of
Ormond, and matured and directed from England by a council of
five members who conducted the affairs of "King James III." The
soul of this little clique was the Bishop of Rochester, Francis
Atterbury, indefatigable in his zeal as well as inexhaustible in
his resources; sincerely attached to the Protestant faith, but
sacrificing all to his political passions, and more occupied in
preparing for the landing of the invaders and in fomenting an
insurrection during the absence of the king in Hanover, than in
the care of his diocese.
{168}
When the plot was discovered, the inferior agents were promptly
arrested, and the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Orrery, and Lord North,
at first imprisoned in the Tower, were soon released: the bishop
remained gravely compromised. Walpole resolved to risk a trial.
Among the accomplices a young barrister named Layer alone
suffered the extreme penalty; the property of some others was
confiscated; but public interest concentrated itself upon the
bishop, who was kept in close confinement in the Tower.
Atterbury was eloquent and convincing; when he appeared before
the House of Lords, all his efforts tended to prove that the
testimony against him was forged. Walpole was compelled to defend
himself: "A finer passage at arms between two such antagonists
was never seen," said Onslow, the speaker of the House of
Commons; "one fighting for his reputation, the other for his
life." The evidence was overwhelming against the bishop; he had
evidently conspired against a sovereign to whom he had sworn
allegiance. His address was as eloquent as able. "I have suffered
so much," said he, "that the little strength which I enjoyed at
the time of my arrest, in the month of August last, has
completely disappeared, and I am not in a state to appear before
your lordships, still less to defend myself in an affair of so
extraordinary a nature. I am accused of having conspired. What
could I gain, my lords, by going thus out of my way? No man in my
order is less urged by ambition for higher dignities of the
Church. I have always scorned money; too much so, perhaps, for I
may now need it. Could I have been drawn by a secret attraction
towards papacy?
{169}
My lords, since I have known what papacy is, I have exposed it;
and the better I have known it, the stronger I have opposed it.
For the last thirty-seven years I have written in favor of Martin
Luther. Whatever may happen to me, I am ready to suffer all, and
by the grace of God to perish at the stake sooner than depart
from the Protestant faith as set forth by the Church of England.
I have awaited my sentence these eight months, my lords,
separated from my children, who have not been able to write me or
even send me a message without express authority. When the
illustrious Earl of Clarendon, accused of treason, was compelled
to retire into exile, he had passed the greater part of his life
abroad, and was well known there; he understood the language, and
he enjoyed a large fortune; all these consolations are wanting to
me. I resemble him only in my innocence and my punishment. It is
not in the power of any man to alter the first resemblance, but
it is in the power of your lordships to profoundly modify the
second; I hope for it and I expect it from you." Atterbury was
condemned; a majority of the prelates voted against him.
The English Catholics had ardently espoused the cause of the
house of Stuart, and they were to pay once again for their
illusive imprudence and folly. The attempt which had just cost
the Bishop of Rochester his episcopal see and the freedom of his
country, served as a pretext for Walpole to propose a tax of
£100,000, to be collected from the estates of the Catholics.
"Many of them are guilty," said the minister. This contempt for
justice and liberty, which long pursued the Catholics in England,
weighed upon the French Protestants still longer and more
heavily. The bill which passed the Houses included all the gentry
who had refused to take the oath of allegiance. Many who had
resisted, up to this time, in consequence of a sincere
repugnance, now hastened to take the oath to the established
order of things.
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"I have observed well," said the Speaker Onslow, who was opposed
to the measure of Walpole, "and it was a strange and ridiculous
spectacle to see the crowd which gathered at the quarterly
Sessions in order to pledge their allegiance to the government,
while, at the same time, cursing it for the trouble which it was
giving them and for the fear which it inspired. I am convinced
that the attachment for the king and his family has received a
severe shock from all that happened at this time."
As the exiled bishop put his foot upon the soil of France, at
Calais, he learned that Lord Bolingbroke had been pardoned by the
king, and had arrived in that city on his way to England. "I am
exchanged, then," said Atterbury, smiling. "Assuredly," wrote
Pope, the intimate and faithful friend of the bishop, "this
country fears an excess of talent, since it will not regain one
genius without losing another."
It was to the venal protection of the Duchess of Kendal that
Bolingbroke owed the royal pardon. Walpole had not received
favorably the overtures which had been made to him in favor of
the exile. "The attainder ought never to be abolished, and crimes
ought never to be forgotten," said he, in the Council. The
Marquise de Villette, niece of Madame Maintenon, at first the
friend and subsequently the wife of Bolingbroke, had succeeded in
interesting the favorite in his behalf. Eleven thousand pounds
sterling were paid, it was said, for permission to return to
England. He had as yet recovered neither his title, his rights,
nor his fortune. The offer of his services was refused by
Walpole. It was not until 1725, and even then, through the
intervention of Madame Villette and the Duchess of Kendal, that
Bolingbroke, having returned to France, finally obtained
permission to present to Parliament a petition that Walpole
consented to support.
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More clear-sighted than he had often been during his public life,
Bolingbroke while in France had served continually and to the
utmost, the interests of the English minister, by sustaining his
brother Horace and his brother-in-law Lord Townshend, in their
rivalry against Lord Carteret, the Secretary of State. The
amnesty voted by Parliament restored to Bolingbroke his personal
fortune, and his rights to the heritage of his father, but
without giving him the right of disposing of it. The king had
promised Walpole, it was said, that Bolingbroke should never
again hold any political position. "I am restored to two-thirds,"
wrote he to Swift, from his country house at Uxbridge. He
received his friends, occupying or at least pretending to occupy
himself exclusively with his estate and in literary pursuits.
Voltaire was one of his visitors, when driven from France by his
quarrel with the Chevalier Rohan, and passed two years in
England. This event had a powerful effect upon Voltaire's mind,
and many traces of the same may be found in his writings. The
relations of the poet with Bolingbroke were of long standing;
they had often met at the Chateau de la Source, near Orleans,
where the exile lived for some time. "One thing which interests
me," wrote Voltaire, "is the recall of milord Bolingbroke to
England. He will be at Paris to-day, and I shall have the grief
of bidding him farewell, perhaps forever." When Voltaire, in his
turn, again reached his own country, he dedicated to Bolingbroke
his tragedy of _Brutus_: "Permit me to present to you
_Brutus_," wrote he, "although written in another language,
_docte sermonis utriusque linguœ_, to you who have given me
lessons in French as well as in English, to you who have taught
me at least to give to my language that force and that energy
which noble liberty of thought inspires: for vigorous sentiments
of the soul always pass into the language, and he who thinks
forcibly speaks likewise." Voltaire, on asking permission to
visit England, had remarked: "it is a country where they think
freely and nobly without being restrained by servile fear."
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Troubles in Ireland, caused by the recoinage of money, and in
Scotland, by a tax upon beer, which had been substituted for the
malt tax, had for some time detained King George in England.
Finally, in 1725, he departed for Hanover, accompanied, as usual,
by Lord Townshend and the Duchess of Kendal. The state of affairs
in Europe had become critical. In France the regent had died on
the 2nd of December, 1723; the Duke of Bourbon, who had succeeded
him, governed ostentatiously and violently, but without either
true force or authority, and abandoned to the influence of his
favorite, the corrupt and avaricious Marquise de Prie. Both
desired to assure the duration of their power by giving to the
young King Louis XV. a wife who would owe to them her elevation,
and who would remain submissive to them.
The Infanta of Spain had been educated at the French Court,
treated as queen, and was only waiting until her age would permit
her to wed the young King Louis XV., according to a treaty
solemnly negotiated with Philip V. She was sent back to Madrid,
and Marie Leczinska, daughter of Stanislaus, the dethroned and
ruined King of Poland, was chosen in her place for the sad honor
of sharing the throne of Louis XV. "It is necessary that the
Infanta depart immediately, in order that this may be done
sooner," said the Count of Morvilliers, who was charged with the
marriage negotiations.
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The anger and indignation of Spain were extreme. "All the
Bourbons are true demons," said the queen; then turning towards
the king, whose origin she had forgotten, in her fury, she added:
"Save your Majesty." The fragile edifice of the Quadruple
Alliance succumbed beneath the imprudent insolence of the French
government. Philip V. gave his daughter to the Prince of Brazil,
the heir to the throne of Portugal. By this alliance, agreeable
to England, the faithful friend of Portugal, the King of Spain
hoped to gain the support of George I. "We will put confidence
only in your master," said the queen to William Stanhope, the
English minister at Madrid, "and we desire no other mediator but
him in our negotiations." The English government nevertheless
refused to break with France. Philip V. formed an alliance with
the Emperor Charles VI., the most ancient, and even then, the
most implacable of his enemies. The Archduke had no son, and
wished to secure the succession to his eldest daughter, the
Archduchess Maria Theresa. The Pragmatic Sanction which declared
this will, awaited the assent of Europe. That of Spain was of
great value. She offered, besides, to open her ports to the
company of Ostend, recently founded by the Emperor to compete
with the Dutch commerce.
The house of Austria divided the house of Bourbon by opposing to
each other the two branches of France and Spain. The treaty of
Vienna was concluded on the 1st of May, 1725. The two sovereigns
renounced all pretensions to their respective states, and
proclaimed a full amnesty for their partisans. The emperor
recognized the hereditary rights of Don Carlos to the Duchies of
Tuscany, Parma and Plaisance; he promised, at the same time, his
good offices, to obtain from England the restitution of Gibraltar
and Port Mahon. In spite of negotiations already entered into
with the Duke of Lorraine, the hands of the Archduchesses, the
daughters of the emperor, were promised to the two sons of
Elizabeth Farnese, Don Carlos and Don Philip.
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King George was in Hanover when the secret articles of the treaty
became known. "On this occasion, it was not the ministers of his
Majesty who instructed him," subsequently said Walpole, "but it
was his Majesty who gave his ministers the information. The
information which the king had received in Hanover was so sure,
that they could not be deceived." The Count de Broglie went to
Germany to join George I. The King of Prussia, Frederick William
I., was called to the conference; the Empress Catherine I., widow
of Peter the Great, made advances to Spain in consequence of her
antipathy towards England. The necessity for strong alliances was
felt; the King of Prussia hesitated, realizing the danger he ran
from his nearness to the emperor; he signed, nevertheless, but
soon afterwards abandoned his allies. The Treaty of Hanover was
concluded on the 8th of September, between England, France,
Prussia, Denmark and Sweden. "Hanover advances itself
triumphantly upon the shoulders of England," said Lord
Chesterfield. George I. was accused of having defended his
electorate at the expense of his kingdom; in Hanover the elector
was reproached for having protected the commercial interests of
England by exposing his native country to great perils. The Count
de Broglie shared the English opinion: "His Majesty regards
England as a temporary possession, by which it is necessary to
profit while at his service, more than as a durable heritage,"
wrote he, on the 20th of January, 1724, to Louis XV. The Duke of
Bourbon had just been replaced at the head of the French
government by Cardinal Fleury, moderate and prudent, favorable to
the English alliance and sincerely desirous of preserving peace
in Europe.
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Lord Townshend directed the negotiations of the treaty of
Hanover. Walpole was secretly jealous and censured certain
clauses. The secret articles, concluded at Vienna, greatly
pre-occupied England. "I know, from a source, which cannot be
doubted," said George I., in his address at the opening of
Parliament, in 1727, "that the re-establishment of the Pretender
upon the throne of this kingdom, was one of the secret articles
signed at Vienna. If time proves that by abandoning the commerce
of this nation to one power, and Gibraltar and Port Mahon to
another, a market has been made of this kingdom, in order to
impose upon it a papist Pretender, what will not be the
indignation of all English and Protestant hearts."
The emperor protested boldly against the address from the throne,
and appealed from the king to the nation. The Pretender, recently
filled with hope, by the alliance of the empire and Spain,
alienated these two powers by his cruel conduct towards his wife.
The princess had left him on the 15th of November, 1725, to
retire into the convent of St. Cecilia, at Rome. War,
nevertheless, seemed inevitable; but the emperor realized his
feebleness, and cared but little for the interests of Spain. On
the 31st of May, 1727, the preliminaries of peace were signed at
Paris, between England, France and Holland, on the one part, and
the empire on the other. English commerce was satisfied by the
suspension of the privileges of the company of Ostend for seven
years. Philip V. voluntarily raised the siege of Gibraltar. The
prudent moderation of Walpole and of Cardinal Fleury, once again
succeeded in maintaining the peace of Europe.
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Walpole was threatened, nevertheless; he governed with sagacity
the nation so long and so cruelly agitated, and became rich and
prosperous; but he governed without glory. "Little jealous," says
De Rémussat, "of honoring men, provided he rules them." He was
reserved and haughty, carefully withdrawing from even the shadow
of a rivalry. Bolingbroke had never pardoned his hostility; he
attacked him anonymously in a journal directed by Pulteney, who
was detached from the Whigs by an ancient enmity against Walpole.
He undertook to lower him in the estimation of the king. The
Duchess of Kendal, secretly hostile to the minister, placed in
the king's hands a Memorial drawn up by Bolingbroke, in which the
latter pointed out all the dangers to which the state was exposed
in the hands of Walpole, and demanded an audience. George I.
simply turned over the memorial to Walpole, who promptly divined
from whom the blow came. "Join with me. Duchess, in praying the
king to accord Lord Bolingbroke an audience;" boldly said Sir
Robert. The king hesitated, as he did not speak English. "It is a
great proof of the ability of Walpole that he governed the king
in Latin," it was said. Bolingbroke understood French perfectly,
and it was in that language that the interview was held. The
Viscount claimed the restoration of his political privileges. "It
is sufficient that your Majesty exacts it," said he. "Sir Robert
is here, let him be called, and I will convince him before your
Majesty that the thing can be done."--"No, no," replied the king,
"do not call him." Then, as the Chancellor of the Duchy of
Cornwall, Lechmere, who was at this time antagonistic to both
Walpole and Bolingbroke, entered, the king could scarcely refrain
from laughter. When his minister, somewhat disturbed, came to
learn the result of the conversation with Bolingbroke,
"Bagatelle, bagatelle!" repeated George I. Walpole never learned
more.
[Transcriber's note:
Bagatelle: Something of little value or significance.]
[Image]
The Mysterious Letter.
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The king prepared for another journey to Hanover. Some months
before, on the 12th of November, 1726, his wife, Sophia Dorothea
of Zell, died. She was beautiful and amiable, but arbitrarily
condemned by her husband during thirty-six years. The Count of
Konigsmark, the man who had, it was said, gained her favors,
disappeared mysteriously at the time when the princess was
imprisoned, by the order of her father-in-law as well as her
husband. The place where the Count was struck down is still
shown. Many years later his bones were found under the marble
slab before the chimney of the castle. The prince obtained a
divorce, but never relaxed his severity towards his wife, who, on
her part, never ceased protesting her innocence.
It is said that at the time when King George I. entered Germany,
in June, 1727, an unknown person threw into his carriage a letter
from the princess, written during her last illness, solemnly
adjuring her husband to repent of the terrible injury which he
had inflicted upon her, and calling upon him to appear within a
year before the tribunal of God.
It was to this summons from the tomb that was attributed that
unexpected blow which so suddenly fell upon King George. On the
10th of June, 1727, he departed from Delden in good health, but
within a few hours was struck by apoplexy. His servants desired
to stop, but the king repeated, in a stifled voice, "Osnabruch!
Osnabruch!" When they gained that palace of the prince Bishop,
his brother, the King of England was dead.
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