THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. VOL. IV.
THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, FROM The EARLIEST TIMES to the DEATH of GEORGE II. By Dr. GOLDSMITH. IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. IV.
LONDON, Printed for T. DAVIES, in Russel-street; BECKET and DE HONDT; and T. CADELL, in the Strand. MDCCLXXI.
IAMES II.
Hall sculp.
CHAP. XXXVII. JAMES II.
THE duke of York,
A.D.
1685
who succeeded his brother by the title of king James the second, had been bred a papist by his mother, and was strongly bigotted to his principles. It is the property of that religion almost ever to contract the sphere of the understanding; and until people are in some measure disengaged from its prejudices, it is impossible to lay a just claim to extensive views, or consistency of design. The intellects of this prince were naturally weak; and the education he had received rendered them still more feeble. He therefore conceived the impracticable project of reigning in the arbitrary manner of his predecessor, and of changing the established religion of his country, at a time when his person was hated, and the established religion passionately loved. The people, though they despised the administration of his predecessor, yet loved the king. They were willing to bear with the faults of one, whose whole behaviour was a continued instance of affability; but they were by no means willing to grant the same indulgence to James, as they knew him to be gloomy, proud, bigotted, and cruel.
His reign began with acts of imprudence. All the customs, and the greater part of the excise, that had been voted to the late king for his life only, were levied by James, without a new act for that purpose. He likewise went openly to mass with all the ensigns of his dignity; and even sent one Caryl as his agent to Rome to make submissions to the pope, and to pave the way for the re-admission of England into the bosom of the catholic church. These were but inauspicious symptoms in the very beginning of his reign; but the progress no way fell short of the commencement.
He had, long before the commencement of his reign, had an intrigue with one Mrs. Sedley, whom he afterwards created countess of Dorchester; but being now told that as he was to convert his people, the sanctity of his manners ought to correspond with his professions, Mrs. Sedley was discarded, and he resigned himself up to the advice of the queen, who was as much governed by priests as he. From the suggestions of these men, and particularly the Jesuits, all measures were taken. One day, when the Spanish ambassador ventured to advise his majesty against placing too much confidence in such kind of people,
"Is it not the custom in Spain, said James, for the king to consult with his confessor?"
"Yes, answered the ambassador, and that is the reason our affairs succeed so very ill."
But though his actions might serve to demonstrate his aims, yet his first parliament, which was mostly composed of zealous Tories were strongly biassed to comply with all the measures of the crown. They voted unanimously that they would settle on the present king, during life, all the revenue enjoyed by the late king, until the time of his decease. For this favour, James assured them of his resolution to secure them in the full enjoyment of their laws; but no answer could be extorted from him with regard to religion, for that he was secretly resolved to alter.
To pave the way for his intended conversion of the kingdom, it was necessary to undeceive them with regard to the late rumour of a popish plot; and Oates, the contriver, was the first object of royal indignation. He was tried for perjury on two indictments. One, for swearing that he was present at a consultation of Jesuits in London the twenty-fourth of April 1679; and another, for swearing that father Ireland was in London on the beginning of September of the same year. He was convicted on the evidence of above two and twenty persons on the first, and of twenty-seven on the latter indictment. His sentence was to pay a fine of a thousand marks on each indictment, to be whipped on two different days from Aldgate to Newgate, and from Newgate to Tyburn. To be imprisoned during life, and to be pillored five times every year. Oates, long accustomed to a life of infamy and struggle, supported himself under every punishment that justice could inflict. He avowed his innocence, called heaven to witness to his veracity; and he knew that there was a large party that were willing to take his word. Though the whipping was so cruel, that it appeared evidently the intention of the court to put him to death by that dreadful punishment, yet Oates survived it all, and lived to king William's reign, when he had a pension of four hundred pounds a year settled upon him. Thus Oates remains as a stain upon the times in every part of his conduct. It is a stain upon them that he was first believed, it is a stain upon them that he was caressed, that he was tyrannically punished, and that he was afterwards rewarded.
Monmouth, who had been, since his last conspiracy, pardoned, but ordered to depart the kingdom, had retired to Holland. Being dismissed from thence by the prince of Orange upon James's accession, he went to Brussels, where finding himself still pursued by the king's severity, he resolved to retaliate, and make an attempt upon the kingdom. He had ever been the darling of the people, and some averred that Charles had married his mother, and owned Monmouth's legitimacy at his death. The duke of Argyle seconded his views in Scotland, and they formed the scheme of a double insurrection; so that while Monmouth should attempt to make a rising in the West, Argyle was also to try his endeavours in the North.
Argyle was the first who landed in Scotland, where he published his manifestoes, put himself at the head of two thousand five hundred men,
A.D.
1685
and strove to influence the people in his cause. But a formidable body of the king's forces coming against him, his army fell away, and he himself, after being wounded in attempting to escape, was taken prisoner by a peasant, who found him standing up to his neck in a pool of water. He was from thence carried to Edinburgh, where, after enduring many indignities with a gallant spirit, he was publicly executed.
The fate of Argyle was but a bad encouragement to the unfortunate Monmouth, who was by this time landed in Dorsetshire, with scarce an hundred followers. However his name was so popular, and so great was the hatred of the people both for the person and religion of James, that in four days he had assembled a body of above two thousand men. They were indeed all of them the lowest of the people, and his declarations were suited entirely to their prejudices. He called the king the duke of York, and denominated him a traitor, a tyrant, a murderer, and a popish usurper. He imputed to him the fire of London, the murder of Godfrey and Essex, and even the poisoning the late king.
The parliament was no sooner informed of Monmouth's landing, than they presented an address to the king, assuring him of their loyalty, zeal, and assistance. The duke of Albemarle, raising a body of four thousand militia, advanced, in order to block him up in Lyme; but finding his soldiers disaffected to the king, he soon after retreated with precipitation.
In the mean time the duke advanced to Taunton, where he was reinforced by considerable numbers. Twenty young maids of some rank presented Monmouth with a pair of colours, their handy work, together with a copy of the Bible. There he assumed the title of king, and was proclaimed with great solemnity. His numbers had now encreased to six thousand men; and he was obliged every day, for want of arms, to dismiss numbers, who crowded to his standard. He entered Bridgewater, Wells, and Frome, and was proclaimed in all those places; but he lost the hour of action, in receiving and claiming these empty honours.
The king was not a little alarmed at his invasion; but still more at the success of an undertaking, that at first appeared desperate. Six regiments of British troops were called over from Holland, and a body of regulars to the number of three thousand men, were sent under the command of the earl of Feversham and Churchill, to check the progress of the rebels. They took post at Sedgemore, a village in the neighbourhood of Bridgewater, and were joined by the militia of the country in considerable numbers. It was there that Monmouth resolved, by a desperate effort, to lose his life or gain the kingdom. The negligent disposition made by Feversham invited him to the attack; and his faithful followers shewed what courage and principle could do against discipline and superior numbers. They drove the royal infantry from their ground, and were upon the point of gaining the victory, when the misconduct of Monmouth, and the cowardice of lord Gray, who commanded the horse, brought all to ruin. This nobleman fled at the first onset; and the rebels being charged in flank by the victorious army, gave way after a three hours contest. About three hundred were killed in the engagement, and a thousand in the pursuit; and thus ended an enterprize, rashly begun, and more seebly conducted.
Monmouth fled from the field of battle above twenty miles, till his horse sunk under him. He then alighted, and exchanging cloaths with a shepherd, fled on foot, attended by a German count, who had accompanied him from Holland. Being quite exhausted with hunger and fatigue, they both lay down in a field, and covered themselves with fern. The shepherd being found in Monmouth's cloaths by the pursuers, encreased the diligence of the search; and, by the means of blood hounds, he was detected in his miserable situation, with raw pease in his pocket, which he had gathered in the fields to sustain life. He burst into tears when seized by his enemies; and petitioned, with the most abject submission, for life. He wrote the most submissive letters to the king; and that monarch, willing to feast his eyes with the miseries of a fallen enemy, gave him an audience. At this interview the duke fell upon his knees, and begged his life in the most abject terms. He even signed a paper, offered him by the king, declaring his own illegitimacy; and then the stern tyrant assured him, that his crime was of such a nature, as could not be pardoned. The duke perceiving that he had nothing to hope from the clemency of his uncle, recollected his spirits, rose up, and retired with an air of disdain. He was followed to the scaffold, with great compassion from the populace. He warned the executioner not to fall into the same error which he had committed in beheading Russel, where it had been necessary to redouble the blow. But this only encreased the severity of his punishment, the man was seized with an universal trepidation; and he struck a feeble blow, upon which the duke raised his head from the block, as if to reproach him; he gently laid down his head a second time, and the executioner struck him again and again to no purpose. He at last threw the ax down; but the sheriff compelled him to resume the attempt, and at two blows more the head was severed from the body. Such was the end of James, duke of Monmouth, the darling of the English people. He was brave, sincere, and good natured, open to flattery and by that seduced into an enterprize, which exceded his capacity.
But it were well for the insurgents, and fortunate for the king, if the blood that was now shed had been thought a sufficient expiation for the late offence. The victorious army behaved with the most savage cruelty to the prisoners taken after the battle. Feversham immediately after the victory hanged up above twenty prisoners; and was proceeding in his executions, when the bishop of Bath and Wells warned him that these unhappy men were now by law entitled to trial, and that their execution would be deemed a real murther. Nineteen were put to death in the same manner at Bridgewater, by colonel Kirke, a man of a savage and bloody disposition. This vile fellow, practised in the arts of slaughter at Tangier, where he served in garrison, took a pleasure in committing instances of wanton barbarity. He ordered a certain number to be put to death, while he and his company were drinking the king's health. Observing their feet to shake in the agonies of death, he cried that they should have music to their dancing, and ordered the trumpets to sound. He ravaged the whole country, without making any distinction between friend or foe. His own regiment, for their peculiar barbarity, went by the name of Kirke's Lambs. A story is told of his offering a young woman the life of her brother, in case she consented to his desires, which, when she had done, he shewed her her brother hanging out of the window. But this is told of several others, who have been notorious for cruelty, and may be the tale of malignity.
But the military severities of the commanders were still inferior to the legal slaughters, committed by judge Jefferies who was sent down to try the delinquents. The natural brutality of this man's temper was enflamed by continual intoxication. He told the prisoners, that if they would save him the trouble of trying them they might expect some favour, otherwise he would execute the law upon them with the utmost severity. Many poor wretches were thus allured into a confession, and found that it only hastened their destruction. No less than eighty were executed at Dorchester; and, on the whole, at Exeter, Taunton, and Wells, two hundred and fifty-one are computed to have fallen by the hand of justice. Women were not exempted from the general severity, but suffered for harbouring their nearest kindred. Lady Lisle, though the widow of a regicide, was herself a loyalist. She was apprehended for having sheltered in her house two fugitives from the battle of Sedgemore. She proved that she was ignorant of their crime when she had given them protection, and the jury seemed inclined to compassion: they twice brought in a favourable verdict; but they were as often sent back by Jefferies, with menaces and reproaches, and at last were constrained to give a verdict against the prisoner.
But the fate of Mrs. Gaunt was still more terrible. Mrs. Gaunt was an anabaptist, noted for her beneficence, which she had extended to persons of all professions and persuasions. One of the rebels knowing her humane character, had recourse to her in his distress, and was concealed by her. The abandoned villain hearing that a reward and indemnity was offered to such as informed against criminals, came in, and betrayed his protectress. His evidence was incontestible; the proofs were strong against her; he was pardoned for his treachery, and she burned alive for her benevolence.
The work of slaughter went forward. One Cornish, a sheriff, who had been long obnoxious to the court, was accused by Goodenough, now turned a common informer, and in the space of a week was tried, condemned, and executed. After his death, the perjury of the witnesses appeared so flagrant, that the king himself expressed some regret, granted his estate to the family, and condemned the witnesses to perpetual imprisonment. Jefferies, on his return was immediately created a peer, and was soon after vested with the dignity of chancellor. This shewed the people that all the former cuelties were pleasing to the king, and that he was resolved to fix his throne upon severity.
It was not to be supposed that these slaughters could acquire the king the love, or the confidence of his people; yet he thought this a very favourable juncture for carrying on his schemes of religion and arbitrary power. Such attempts in Charles, however unjust, were in some measure politic, as he had a republican faction to contend with; and it might have been prudent then to overstep justice, in order to obtain security. But the same designs in James, were as imprudent as they were impracticable; the republicans were then diminished to an inconsiderable number, and the people were sensible of the advantages of a limited monarchy. However, James began to throw off the mask; and in the house of commons, by his speech, he seemed to think himself exempted from all rules of prudence or necessity of dissimulation. He told the house, that the militia were found by experience to be of no use; that it was necessary to augment the standing army; and that he had employed a great many catholic officers, in whose favour he had thought proper to dispense with the test, required to be taken by all entrusted by the crown: he found them useful, he said, and he was determined to keep them employed. These stretches of power naturally led the lords and commons into some degree of opposition; but they soon acquiesced in the king's measures, and then the parliament was dissolved for their tardy compliance. This was happy for the nation, for it was perhaps impossible to pick out another house of commons, that could be more ready to acquiesce in the measures of the crown.
The parliament being dismissed,
A.D.
1686
the next step was to secure a catholic interest in the privy council. Accordingly four catholic lords were admitted; Powis, Arundel, Belasis, and Dover. The king made no secret of his desires to have his courtiers converted to his own religion; Sunderland, who saw that the only way to preferment was by popery, scrupled not to gain favour at that price. Rochester, the treasurer, was turned out of his office, because he refused to conform. In these schemes, James was entirely governed by the counsels of the queen and of his confessor, father Peters, a Jesuit whom he soon after created a privy-counsellor. Even in Ireland, where the duke of Ormond had long supported the royal cause, this nobleman was displaced as being a protestant; and the lord Tyrconnel, a furious Roman catholic, was placed in his stead. The king one day, in his attempts to convert his subjects, stooped so low as colonel Kirke; but this daring soldier told him that he was pre-engaged, for he had promised the king of Morocco, when he was quartered at Tangiers, that if he ever changed his religion, he would turn Mahometan.
But it could not be expected that the favour shewn by James to the catholics, would be tamely borne by the members of the English church. They had hitherto, indeed, supported the king against his republican enemies, and to their assistance he chiefly owed his crown. But finding his partiality to the catholics, the clergy of the church of England began to take the alarm, and commenced an opposition to court measures. The pulpits now thundered out against popery, and it was urged, that it was more formidable from the support granted it by the king. It was in vain that James attempted to impose silence on these topics; instead of avoiding the controversy, the protestant preachers pursued it with still greater warmth.
Among those who distinguished themselves on this occasion, was one doctor Sharpe, a clergyman of London, who declaimed with just severity against those who had changed their religion, by such arguments as the popish missionaries were able to produce. This being supposed to reflect upon the king, gave great offence at court; and positive orders were given to the bishop of London to suspend Sharpe till his majesty's pleasure should be farther known. The bishop refused to comply; and the king resolved to punish the bishop himself for disobedience.
To effect his designs, he determined to revive the high commission court, which had given the nation so much disgust in the times of his father; and which had been for ever abolished by act of parliament. But the laws were no obstacle to James, when they combatted his inclinations. An ecclesiastical commission was issued out anew, by which seven commissioners were invested with a full and unlimited authority over the whole church of England. This was a blow to the church which alarmed the kingdom; and could the authority of this court take place, the king's intentions of converting the nation would naturally follow. Before this tribunal the bishop was summoned, and not only he, but Sharpe the preacher, were suspended.
The next step, was to allow a liberty of conscience to all sectaries; and he was taught to believe that the truth of the catholic religion, would then, upon a fair trial, gain the victory. In such a case, the same power that granted liberty of conscience, might restrain it; and the catholic religion alone be then permitted to predominate. He therefore issued a declaration of general indulgence, and asserted that nonconformity to the established religion was no longer penal. In order to procure a favourable reception to this edict, he began by paying court to the dissenters, as if it had been principally intended for their benefit. But that sect was too cunning and suspicious to be so deceived. They knew that the king only meant to establish his own religion, at the expence of theirs; and that both his own temper, and the genius of popery, had nothing of the true spirit of toleration in them. They dissembled, however, their distrust for a while; and the king went on silently applauding himself on the success of his schemes.
But his measures were caution itself in England, compared with those which were carried on in Scotland and Ireland. In Scotland, he ordered his parliament to grant a toleration to the catholics only, without ever attempting to intercede for the dissenters, who were much more numerous. In Ireland, the protestants were totally expelled from all offices of trust and profit, and the catholics were put in their places. Tyrconnel, who was vested with full authority there, carried over as chancellor one Fitton, a man who had been taken from a jail; and who had been convicted of forgery and other crimes. This man, a zealous catholic, was heard to say from the bench, that all protestants were rogues; and that there was not one among forty thousand, that was not a traitor, a rebel, and a villain.
These measures had sufficiently disgusted every part of the British empire; but to complete his work, for James did nothing by halves, he publicly sent the earl of Castlemaine, ambassador extraordinary to Rome, in order to express his obedience to the pope, and to reconcile his kingdoms to the catholic communion. Never was there so much contempt thrown upon an embassy that was so boldly undertaken. The court of Rome expected but little success from measures so blindly conducted. They were sensible that the king was openly striking at those laws and opinions, which it was his business to undermine in silence and security. The cardinals were even heard facetiously to declare, that the king should be excommunicated, for thus endeavouring to overturn the small remains of popery that yet subsisted in England. The only proof of complaisance which the king received from his holiness, was his sending a nuncio into England, in return for the embassy that was sent to him.
This failed not to add to the general discontent; and people supposed that he could never be so rash as, contrary to express act of parliament, to admit of a communication with the pope. But what was their surprize, when they saw the nuncio make his public and solemn entry into Windsor; and because the duke of Somerset refused to attend the ceremony, he was dismissed from his employment, of one of the lords of the bed-chamber.
But this was but the beginning of his attempts. The Jesuits soon after were permited to erect colleges in different parts of the kingdom; they exercised the catholic worship in the most public manner; and four catholic bishops, consecrated in the king's chapel, were sent through the kingdom to exercise their episcopal functions, under the title of apostolic vicars. Their pastoral letters were printed by the king's printer, and distributed through all parts of the kingdom. The monks appeared at court in the habits of their orders, and a great number of priests and friars arrived in England. Every great office the crown had to bestow, was gradually transferred from the protestants; Rochester and Clarendon, the king's brothers in law, though they had been ever faithful to his interests, were, because protestants, dismissed from their employments. Nothing now remained, but to open the door of the church and universities to the intrusion of the catholics, and this effort was soon after begun.
Father Francis, a Benedictine monk, was recommended by the king to the university of Cambridge, for the degree of master of arts. But his religion was a stumbling block which the university could not get over; and they presented a petition, beseeching the king to recal his mandate. Their petition was disregarded, their deputies denied an hearing: the vice-chancellor himself was summoned to appear before the high-commission court, and deprived of his office; yet the university persisted, and father Francis was refused. The king thus foiled, thought proper at that time to drop his pretensions, but he carried on his attempts upon the university of Oxford with still greater vigour.
The place of president of Magdalen college, one of the richest foundations in Europe, being vacant, the king sent a mandate in favour of one Farmer, a new convert, and a man of a bad character in other respects. The fellows of the college, made very submissive applications to the king for recalling his mandate; but before they received an answer, the day came on, which, by their statutes, they were required to proceed to an election. They therefore chose doctor Hough, a man of learning, integrity, and resolution. The king was incensed at their presumption; and, in order to punish them, an inferior ecclesiastical court was sent down, who finding Farmer a man of scandalous character, issued a mandate for a new election. The person now recommended by the king, was doctor Parker, lately created bishop of Oxford, a man of prostitute character; but who atoned for all his vices, by his willingness to embrace the catholic religion. The fellows refused to comply with this injunction, which so incensed the king, that he repaired in person to Oxford, and ordered the fellows to be brought before him. He reproached them with their insolence and disobedience in the most imperious terms; and commanded them to chuse Parker without delay. Another refusal on their side served still more to exasperate him; and finding them resolute in the defence of their privileges, he them all, except two, from their benefices, and Parker was put in possession of the place. Upon this, the college was filled with catholics; and Charnock, who was one of the two that remained, was made vice-president.
Every invasion of the ecclesiastical and civil privileges of the nation only seemed to encrease the king's ardour for more. A second declaration for liberty of conscience was published,
A.D.
1688
almost in the same terms with the former; but with this peculiar injunction, that all divines should read it after service in their churches. As he thus put it in the power of thousands to refuse, he armed against himself the whole body of the nation. The clergy were known universally to disapprove of the suspending power; and they were now resolved to disobey an order dictated by the most bigotted motives. They were determined to trust their cause to the favour of the people, and that universal jealousy which prevailed against the encroachments of the crown. The first champions on this service of danger were Loyde, bishop of St. Asaph, Ken of Bath and Wells, Turner of Ely, Lake of Chichester, White of Peterborow, and Trelawney of Bristol; these, together with Sancroft the primate, concerted an address, in the form of a petition, to the king, which, with the warmest expressions of zeal and submission, remonstrated that they could not read his declaration consistent with their consciences, or the respect they owed the protestant religion. This modest address only served still more to enflame the king's resentment. Former opposition only served to hurry him on in counsels as precipitate as they were tyrannical. He was resolved not to let the slightest and most respectful contradiction pass unpunished. He received their petition with marks of surprize and displeasure. He said, he did not expect such an address from the English church, particularly from some among them, and persisted in their obeying his mandate. The bishops left his presence under some apprehensions from his fury; but secure in the favour of the people, and the rectitude of their intentions.
The king's measures were now become so odious to the people, that, although the bishops of Durham and Rochester, who were members of the ecclesiastical court, ordered the declaration to be read in the churches of their respective districts, the audience could not hear them with any patience. One minister told his congregation, that though he had positive orders to read the declaration, they had none to hear it, and therefore they might leave the church; an hint which the congregation quickly obeyed. It may easily, therefore, be supposed that the petitioning bishops had little to dread from the utmost efforts of royal resentment.
As the petition was delivered in private, the king summoned the bishops before the council, and there questioned them whether they would acknowledge it? They for some time declined giving an answer; but being urged by the chancellor, they at last owned the petition. On their refusal to give bail, an order was immediately drawn for their commitment to the Tower, and the crown-lawyers received directions to prosecute them for a seditious libel.
The king gave orders that they should be conveyed to the Tower by water, as the whole city was in commotion in their favour. The people were no sooner informed of their danger, than they ran to the river side, which was lined with incredible multitudes. As the reverend prisoners passed, the populace fell upon their knees; and great numbers ran into the water, craving their blessing, calling upon Heaven to protect them, and encouraging them to suffer nobly in the cause of religion. The bishops were not wanting, by their submissive and humble behaviour, to raise the pity of the spectators; and they still exhorted them to fear God, honour the king, and maintain their loyalty. The very soldiers, by whom they were guarded, kneeled down before them, and implored their forgiveness. Upon landing, the bishops immediately went to the Tower-chapel to render thanks for those afflictions which they suffered in the cause of truth.
The twenty-ninth day of June was fixed for their trial; and their return was still more splendidly attended than their imprisonment. Twenty-nine peers, a great number of gentlemen, and an immense crowd of people, waited upon them to Westminster-hall. The cause was looked upon as involving the fate of the nation, and future freedom, or future slavery awaited the decision. The dispute was learnedly managed by the lawyers on both sides. Holloway and Powel, two of the judges, declared themselves in favour of the bishops. The jury withdrew into a chamber, where they passed the whole night; but next morning they returned into court, and pronounced the bishops, Not guilty. Westminster-Hall instantly rang with loud acclamations, which were communicated to the whole extent of the city. They even reached the camp at Hounslow, where the king was at dinner, in lord Feversham's tent. His majesty demanding the cause of those rejoicings, and being informed that it was nothing but the soldiers shouting at the delivery of the bishops,
"Call you that nothing, cried he; but so much the worse for them."
If the bishops testified the readiness of martyrs in support of their religion, James shewed no less ardour in his attempts toward the establishment of his own. Grown odious to every class of his subjects, he still resolved to persist; for it was a part of his character, that those measures he once embraced he always persevered in pursuing. He struck out two of the judges, Powel and Holloway, who had appeared to favour the bishops. He issued orders to prosecute all those clergymen who had not read his declaration, and all had refused it, except two hundred. He sent a mandate to the new fellows, whom he had obtruded on Magdalen College, to elect for president, in the room of Parker, lately deceased, one Gifford, a doctor of the Sorbonne, and titular bishop of Madura.
As he found the clergy every where averse to the harshness of his proceedings, he was willing to try next what he could do with the army. He thought if one regiment should promise implicit obedience, their example would soon induce others to comply. He therefore ordered one of the regiments to be drawn up in his presence, and desired that such as were against his late declaration of liberty of conscience should lay down their arms, He was surprised to see the whole battalion ground their arms, except two officers, and a few roman catholic soldiers.
Opposition only served to enflame this infatuated monarch's zeal. He was continually stimulated by the queen, and the priests about him, to go forward without receding. A fortunate circumstance happened in his family. A few days before the acquittal of the bishops, the queen was brought to bed of a son, who was baptised by the name of James. This would, if any thing could at that time, have served to establish him on the throne; but so great was the animosity against him, that a story was propagated that the child was supposititious, and brought to the queen's apartment in a warming-pan. But so great was this monarch's pride, that he scorned to take any precautions to refute the calumny. Indeed all his measures were marked with the characters of pride, cruelty, bigotry, and weakness. In these he was chiefly supported by Father Peters, his confessor, an ambitious, ignorant, and intriguing priest, whom some scruple not to call a concealed creature belonging to the prince of Orange. By that prince's secret directions, it is asserted, though upon no very good authority, that James was hurried on, under the guidance of Peters, from one precipice to another, until he was obliged to give up the reins of that government which he went near to overthrow.
CHAP. XXXVIII. JAMES II. (Continued.)
WILLIAM, prince of Orange, had married Mary, the eldest daughter of king James. This princess had been bred a protestant; and as she was for a long time heir apparent to the throne, the people tamely bore the encroachments of the king, in hopes that his protestant successor would rectify those measures he had taken towards the establishment of popery, and the extension of the prerogative of the crown. For this reason, the prince gave the king not only advice but assistance in all emergencies, and had actually supplied him with six thousand troops upon Monmouth's invasion. But now, when a young prince was born, that entirely excluded his hopes by succession, he lent more attention to the complaints of the nation; and began to foment those discontents, which before he had endeavoured to suppress.
William was a prince who had, from his earliest entrance into business, been immersed in dangers, calamities, and politics. The ambition of France, and the jealousies of Holland, had served to sharpen his talents, and to give him a propensity to intrigue. This great politician and soldier concealed, beneath a phlegmatic appearance, a most violent and boundless ambition; all his actions were levelled at power, while his discourse never betrayed the wishes of his heart. His temper was cold and severe; his genius active and piercing; he was valiant, without ostentation, and politic without address. Disdaining the elegance and pleasures of life, yet eager after the phantom of pre-eminence; through his whole life he was indefatigable; and though an unsuccessful general in the field, yet he was still a formidable negociator in the cabinet. By his intrigues he saved his own country from ruin; he restored the liberties of England, and preserved the independence of Europe. Thus, though neither his abilities nor his virtues were of the highest kind, yet there are few persons in history whose actions and conduct have contributed more eminently to the general interests of society, and of mankind.
This politic prince now plainly saw that James had incurred the most violent hatred of his subjects.
A.D.
1688
He was minutely informed of their discontents; and, by seeming to discourage, still farther encreased them. He therefore began by giving one Dykevelt, his envoy, instructions to apply in his name to every sect and denomination in the kingdom. To the church-party he sent assurances of favour and regard; and protested that his education in Holland had no way prejudiced him against episcopacy. To the non-conformists he sent exhortations not to be deceived by the insidious caresses of their known enemy; but to wait for a real and sincere protector. Dykevelt executed his commission with such dexterity, that all orders of men cast their eyes towards Holland, and expected from thence a deliverance from those dangers with which they were threatened at home.
The prince soon found that every rank was ripe for defection, and received invitations from some of the most considerable persons in the kingdom. Admiral Herbert, and admiral Russel, assured him in person of their own and the national attachment. Henry Sidney, brother to Algernon, and uncle to the earl of Sunderland, came over to him with assurances of an universal combination against the king. Lord Dumblaine, son to the earl of Danby, being master of a frigate, made several voyages to Holland, and carried from many of the nobility tenders of duty and even considerable sums of money to the prince of Orange. Soon after the bishop of London, the earls of Danby, Nottingham, Devonshire, Dorset, with several other lords, gentlemen, and principal citizens, united in their addresses to him, and entreated his speedy descent.
The people of England, though long divided between Whig and Tory, were unanimous in their measures against the king. The Whigs hated upon principles of liberty, the Tories upon principles of religion. The former had ever shewn themselves tenacious of their political rights; the latter were equally obstinate in defence of their religious tenets. James had invaded both; so that for a time all factions were laid asleep, except that general one of driving the tyrant from a throne, which, upon every account, he was so ill qualified to fill. William, therefore, determined to accept of the invitations of the kingdom, and still more readily embarked in the cause, as he saw that the malcontents had conducted their measures with prudence and secrecy.
The time when the prince entered upon his enterprize was just when the people were in a flame from the recent insult offered to their bishops. He had before this made considerable augmentations to the Dutch fleet, and the ships were then lying ready in the harbour. Some additional troops were also levied, and sums of money raised for other purposes were converted to the advancement of this expedition. The Dutch had always reposed an entire confidence him; and many of the neighbouring princes regarded him as their guardian and protector. He was sure of their protection of his native government, while he should be employed in England; and the troops of some of the German powers were actually marched down to Holland for that purpose. Every place was in motion; all Europe saw and expected the descent, except the unfortunate James himself, who, secure in the piety of his intentions, thought nothing could injure his schemes calculated to promote the cause of heaven.
The king of France was the first who apprised him of his danger, and offered to assist him in repelling it. He was willing to join a squadron of French ships to the English fleet, and to send over any number of troops which James should judge requisite for his security. James, however, could not be convinced that his son-in-law intended an invasion; fully satisfied himself of the sacredness of his authority, he imagined a like belief had possessed his subjects. He therefore rejected the French king's proposal, unwilling perhaps to call in foreign aid, when he had an army sufficient at home. When this proffer was rejected, Lewis again offered to march down his numerous army to the frontiers of the Dutch provinces, and thus to detain their forces at home to defend themselves. This proposal met with no better reception. Still Lewis was unwilling to abandon a friend and ally, whose interest he regarded as closely connected with his own. He ventured to remonstrate with the Dutch against the preparations they were making to invade England. The Dutch accused his remonstrance as an officious impertinence, and James himself declined his mediation.
James having thus rejected the assistance of his friends, and being left to face the danger alone, was astonished, with an advice from his minister in Holland, that an invasion was not only projected, but avowed. When he first read the letter containing this information he grew pale, and the letter dropt from his hand. He saw the gulph into which he was fallen, and he knew not where to seek for protection. His only resource was in retreating from those various precipitate measures into which he had plunged himself. He paid court to the Dutch, and offered to enter into any alliance with them for their common security. He replaced in all the counties the deputy-lieutenants and justices, who had been deprived of their commissions for their adherence to the test and penal laws. He restored the charters of such corporations as he had possessed himself of; he annulled the high-commission court; he reinstated the expelled president and fellows of Magdalen College, and he was even reduced to caress those bishops, whom he had so lately persecuted and insulted.
But all his concessions were now too late. They were regarded as the symptoms of fear, and not of repentance; as the cowardice of guilt, and not the conviction of error. Indeed he soon shewed the people the insincerity of his reformation; for hearing that the Dutch fleet was dispersed, he recalled those concessions which he had made in favour of Magdalen College; and, to shew his attachment to the Romish church, at the baptism of his new-born son, he appointed the pope one of the sponsors.
In the mean time the declaration of the prince of Orange was industriously dispersed over the kingdom. In this he enumerated all the grievances of which the nation complained; he promised his assistance in redressing them; he assured the nation that his only aim was to procure them the lasting settlement of their liberty and their religion; and that the only motive of his going over was to learn the sense of the people in a full and free parliament.
This declaration he quickly followed by preparations for a vigorous invasion. So well concerted were his measures, that in three days above four hundred transports were hired, the army fell down the rivers and canals from Nimeguen, with all necessary stores; and the prince set sail from Helveotsluys with a fleet of near five hundred vessels, and an army of above fourteen thousand men.
Fortune, however, seemed at first every way unfavourable to his enterprize. He encountered a dreadful storm, which put him back; but he soon refitted his fleet, and once more ventured for England. It was given out that this invasion was intended for the coasts of France, and many of the English, who saw the fleet pass along their coasts, little expected to see it land on their own shores. It happened that the same wind which sent them to their destined port detained the English fleet in the river, so that the Dutch passed the streights of Dover without molestation. Thus after a voyage of two days, the prince landed his army at the village of Broxholme in Torbay, on the fifth of November, which was the anniversary of the gun-powder treason.
But though the invitation from the English was very general, the prince for some time had the mortification to find himself joined by very few. He marched first to Exeter, where the country people had been so lately terrified with the executions which had ensued on Monmouth's rebellion, that they continued to observe a strict neutrality. But slight repulses were not able to intimidate a general, who had from his early youth been taught to encounter adversity. He continued for ten days in expectation of being joined by the malcontents, and at last began to despair of success. But just when he began to deliberate about reimbarking his forces, he was joined by several persons of consequence, and the whole country soon after came flocking to his standard. The first person who joined the prince was major Burrington, and he was quickly followed by the gentry of the counties of Devon and Somerset. Sir Edward Seymour made proposals for an association, which every one signed. By degrees the earl of Abington, Mr. Russel, son to the earl of Bedford, Mr. Wharton, Godfrey, Howe, all came to Exeter. England was in commotion. Lord Delamere took arms in Cheshire; the earl of Danby seized York; the earl of Bath, governor of Plymouth, declared for the prince; the earl of Devonshire made a like declaration in Derby; the nobility and gentry of Nottingham embraced the same cause; and every day there appeared some effect of that universal combination into which the nation had entered against the measures of the king.
But the most dangerous symptom was the disaffection of the army, which seemed universally tinctured with the spirit of the times. Lord Colchester, son to the earl of Rivers, was the first officer who deserted to the prince. Lord Lovelace was taken in the like attempt by the militia, under the duke of Beaufort. Lord Cornbury, son to the earl of Clarendon, carried off the greatest part of three regiments of cavalry to the prince. Several officers of distinction informed Feversham, the general, that they could not in conscience fight against the prince of Orange.
The defection of the officers was followed by that of the king's own servants and creatures. Lord Churchill had been raised from the rank of a page, and had been invested with an high command in the army; had been created a peer, and owed his whole fortune to the king's bounty; even he deserted among the rest, and carried with him the duke of Grafton, natural son to the late king, colonel Berkely, and some others.
In this universal defection, the unfortunate James not knowing where to turn, and on whom to rely, began to think of requesting assistance from France, when it was now too late. He wrote to Leopold, emperor of Germany, but in vain. That monarch only returned for answer, that what he had foreseen had happened. James had some dependence on his fleet; but they were entirely disaffected. In a word, his interests were deserted by all; for he had long deserted them himself.
He was by this time arrived at Salisbury, the head quarters of his army; and he found that this body amounted to twenty thousand men. It is possible that had he led these to the combat, without granting them time for deliberation, they might have fought in his favour, and secured him on the throne. But he was involved in a maze of fears and suspicions; the defection of those he most confided in took away his confidence in all, and deprived him even of the power of deliberation. It was no small addition to his present distress that the prince of Denmark, and Anne, his favourite daughter, perceiving the desperation of his circumstances, resolved to leave him, and take part with the prevailing side. When he was told that the prince and princess had followed the rest of his favourites, he was stung with the most bitter anguish.
"God help me, cried he, in the extremity of his agony, my own children have forsaken me."
During this distraction and perplexity, he embraced a sudden resolution of drawing off his army, and retiring towards London; a measure which could only serve to betray his fears, and provoke farther treachery. Thus driven to the precipice of his fortunes, invaded by one son-in-law, abandoned by another, despised by his subjects, and hated by those that had suffered beneath his cruelty, he assembled the few noblemen that still adhered to his interests. There in his forlorn council he demanded the advice of those he most confided in. Addressing himself to the earl of Bedford, father to lord Russel, who had been executed in the former reign by the intrigues of James,
"My lord, said the king, you are an honest man, have credit, and can do me signal service."
"Ah, Sir, replied the earl, I am old and feeble; I can do you but little service. I had indeed a son!"
James was so struck with this reply, that he could not speak for some minutes.
The king's fortune now exposed him to the contempt of his enemies; and his behaviour was such as could not procure him the esteem of his friends and adherents. He was naturally timid; and some counsellors about him, either sharing his fears, or secretly attached to the prince, contributed to encrease his apprehensions. They reminded him of the fate of his father, and aggravated the turbulence and inconstancy of the people. They at length persuaded him to fly from a nation he could no longer govern, and to seek for refuge at the court of France, where he was sure of assistance and protection. The popish courtiers, and above all the priests, were sensible that they would be made the first sacrifice upon the opposite party's prevailing. They were therefore desirous of carrying the king along with them, as his presence would be still their honour and protection abroad.
The prince of Orange was no less desirous of the king's flying over to France than his most zealous counsellors could be. He was determined to use every expedient to intimidate the king, and drive him out of the kingdom. He declined a personal conference with the king's commissioners, and sent the earls of Clarendon and Oxford to treat with them. The terms which he proposed implied almost a present participation of the sovereignty; and to urge his measures, he stopped not a moment in his march towards London.
The king alarmed every day more and more with the prospect of a general disaffection, was resolved to hearken to those who advised his quitting the kingdom. To prepare for this he first sent away the queen, who arrived safely at Calais, under the conduct of count Lauzun, an old favourite of the French king. He himself soon after disappeared in the night time, attended only by Sir Edward Hales, a new convert; and disguising himself in a plain dress went down to Feversham, where he embarked on board a small vessel for France. But his misfortunes still continued to pursue him. The vessel in which he had embarked was detained by the populace, who, not knowing the person of the king, robbed, insulted, and abused him. He was now, therefore, persuaded by the earl of Winchelsea to return to London, where again the populace, moved by his distresses, and guided by their natural levity, received him, contrary to his expectations, with shouts and acclamations.
Nothing could be more disagreeable to the prince of Orange than to hear that James was brought back, and, in some measure, triumphantly, to his capital. He had before taken measures to seize upon that authority, which the king's dereliction had put into his hands. The bishops and peers, who were now the only authorized magistrates in the state, gave directions, in the present dissolution of government, for keeping the peace of the city. They issued orders, which were readily obeyed, to the fleet, the garrisons, and the army. They made applications to the prince, whose enterprize they highly applauded, and whose success they joyfully congratulated. It was not therefore without extreme mortification that he found the king returned once more to embarrass his proceedings.
The prince of Orange, however, determined to dissemble, and received the news of his return with an haughty air. His aim from the beginning was to push him by threats and severities to relinquish the throne; and his proceedings argued the refined politician. The king having sent lord Feversham on a civil message to the prince, desiring a conference previous to the settlement of the throne, that nobleman was put under an arrest on pretence of his wanting a passport. The Dutch guards were ordered to take possession of Whitehall, where the king then lodged, and to displace the English. The king was soon after commanded by a message, which he received in bed at midnight, to leave his palace next morning, and to depart for Ham, a seat of the dutchess of Lauderdale's. He desired permission to retire to Rochester, a town not far from the sea-coast, and opposite France. This was readily granted him; and it was now perceived that the harsh measures of the prince had taken effect, and that James was meditating an escape from the kingdom.
The king while he continued at Rochester seemed willing to receive invitations once more to resume the crown; but the prince had not been at all this expence and trouble in taking him from a throne to place him there again. James, therefore, observing that he was entirely neglected by his own subjects, and oppressed by his son-in-law, resolved to seek safety from the king of France, the only friend he had still remaining. He accordingly fled to the sea-side, attended by his natural son the duke of Berwick, where he embarked for the continent. He arrived in safety at Ambleteuse in Picardy, from whence he hastened to the court of France, where he still enjoyed the empty title of a king, and the appellation of a saint, which flattered him more.
After this manner, the courage and abilities of the prince of Orange, seconded by surprising fortune, effected the delivery of the kingdom. It now remained that he should reap the rewards of his toil; and obtain that crown for himself, which had fallen from the head of his father-in-law. Previously, therefore, to any regular authority, he continued in the management of all public affairs. By the advice of the house of lords, the only member of the legislature remaining, he was desired to summon a parliament by circular letters; but the prince, unwilling to act upon so imperfect an authority, convened all the members, who had sat in the house of commons during any parliament of Charles the second, and to these were added the mayor, aldermen, and fifty of the common-council. This was the most proper representative of the people that could be summoned, during the present emergence. They unaminously voted the same address with the lords; and the prince being thus supported by legal authority, wrote circular letters to the counties and corporations of England, to chuse a new parliament. His orders were universally complied with; every thing went on in the most regular peaceful manner, and the prince became possessed of all authority, as if he had regularly succeeded to the throne.
When the house met,
which was mostly composed of the Whig party, after thanks were given to the prince of Orange for the deliverance which he had brought them, they then proceeded to the settlement of the kingdom. In a few days they passed a vote, by a great majority, which was sent up to the house of lords for their concurrence. It was to this effect. That king James the second having endeavoured to subvert the constitution of the kingdom, by breaking the original contract betwixt the king and people, and having, by the advice of Jesuits, and other wicked persons, violated the fundamental laws, and withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, had abdicated the government, and that the throne was thereby vacant. This vote readily passed the house of commons; but it met with some opposition in the house of lords, and was at length carried by a majority of two voices only.
The king being thus deposed, the next consideration was the appointing a successor. Some declared for a regent; others, that the princess of Orange should be invested with regal power, and the young prince considered as supposititious. The debates ran high. A conference was demanded between the lords and commons, while the prince with his usual prudence, entered into no intrigues either with the electors or members; but kept a total silence, as if he had been no way concerned in the transaction. At last, perceiving that his own name was little mentioned in these disputes, he called together the lords Hallifax, Shrewsbury, and Danby, with a few more. He then told them that he had been called over to defend the liberties of the English nation, and that he had happily effected his purpose; that he had heard of several schemes proposed for the establishing the government; that if they chose a regent, he thought it incumbent on him to inform them that he would never accept of that office, the execution of which he knew would be attended with insuperable difficulties; that he would not accept of the crown under the princess his wife, though he was convinced of her merits, that therefore if either of these schemes were adopted, he could give them no assistance in the settlement of the nation; but would return home to his own country, satisfied with his aims to secure the freedom of theirs. This declaration produced the intended effect. After a long debate in both houses, a new sovereign was preferred to a regent, by a majority of two voices. It was agreed that the prince and princess of Orange should reign jointly as king and queen of England, while the administration of government should be placed in the hands of the prince only. The marquis of Hallifax, as speaker of the house of lords, made a solemn tender of the crown to their highnesses, in the name of the peers and commons of England. The prince accepted the offer in terms of acknowledgment; and that very day William and Mary were proclaimed king and queen of England.
WILLIAM III.
Hall sculp.
CHAP. XXXVIII. WILLIAM III.
THE constitution, upon the accession of William to the crown, took a different form from what it had before. As his right to the crown was wholly from the choice of the people, they chose to load the benefit with whatever stipulations they thought requisite for their own security. His power, therefore, was limited on every side; and the jealousy which his new subjects entertained of foreigners, still farther obstructed the exercise of his authority. The power of the crown was acknowledged to flow from no other fountain than that of a contract with the people. The representatives of the nation made a regular claim of rights in behalf of their constituents, which, previous to his coronation, William was obliged to confirm.
This declaration of rights maintained, that the suspending and dispensing powers, as exercised by king James, were unconstitutional; that all courts of ecclesiastical commission, the levying money, or maintaining a standing army in times of peace, without consent of parliament; that grants of fines and forfeitures before conviction, and juries of persons not qualified, or not fairly chosen; and, in trials for treason, who were not freeholders, were all unlawful. It asserted the freedom of election to parliament, the freedom of speech in parliament, and the right of the subject to bear arms, and to petition his sovereign. It provided, that excessive bails should not be required, nor excessive fines be imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments be inflicted; and it concluded with an injunction that parliaments should be frequently assembled. Such was the bill of rights, calculated to secure the liberties of the people; but having been drawn up in a ferment, it bears all the marks of haste, insufficiency, and inattention.
William was no sooner elected to the throne, than he began to experience the difficulty of governing a people, who were more ready to examine the commands of their superiors, than to obey them. From the peaceful and tractable disposition of his own countrymen, he expected a similar disposition among the English; he hoped to find them ready and willing to second his ambition in humbling France, but he found them more apt to fear for the invasion of their domestic liberties at home.
His reign commenced with an attempt, similar to that which had been the principal cause of all the disturbances in the preceding reign, and which had excluded the monarch from the throne. William was a Calvinist, and consequently averse to persecution; he therefore began by attempting to repeal those laws that enjoined uniformity of worship; and though he could not entirely succeed in his design, a toleration was granted to such dissenters as should take the oaths of allegiance, and hold no private conventicles. The papists themselves, who had every thing to fear, experienced the lenity of his government; and though the laws against them were unrepealed, yet they were seldom put into rigorous execution. Thus what was criminal in James, became virtuous in his successor, as James wanted to introduce persecution, by pretending to disown it; while William had no other design, but to make religious freedom the test of civil security.
But though William was acknowledged king in England; Scotland and Ireland were still undetermined. The Revolution in England, had been brought about by a coalition of Whigs and Tories; but in Scotland it was effected by the Whigs almost alone. They soon came to a resolution, that king James had, to use their own expression,
forfaulted
his right to the crown, a term which, in the law-language of that country, excluded not only him, but all his posterity.
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1689
They therefore quickly recognized the authority of William, and took that opportunity to abolish episcopacy, which had long been disagreeable to the nation.
Nothing now remained to the deposed king of all his former possessions but Ireland; and he had some hopes of maintaining his ground there, by the assistance which he was promised from France. Lewis XIV. had long been at variance with William, and took every opportutunity to form confederacies against him, and to obstruct his government. On the present occasion, being either touched with compassion at the sufferings of James, or willing to weaken a rival kingdom, by promoting its internal dissensions, he granted the deposed monarch a fleet and some troops, to assert his pretensions in Ireland, the only part of his dominions that had not openly declared against him.
On the other hand, William was not backward in warding off the threatened blow. He was pleased with an opportunity of gratifying his natural hatred against France; and he hoped to purchase domestic quiet to himself, by turning the spirit of the nation upon the continual object of its aversion and jealousy. The parliament, though divided in all things else, yet was unanimous in conspiring with him in this; a war was declared against France, and measures were pursued for driving James from Ireland, where he had landed, assisted rather by money than by forces, granted him from the French king.
On the seventh day of May, 1689, that unhappy monarch embarked at Brest, and on the twenty-second arrived at Kinsale▪ and soon after made his public entry into Dublin, amidst the acclamations of the inhabitants. He found the appearances of things in that country equal to his most sanguine expectations. Tyrconnel, the lord lieutenant, was devoted to his interests; his old army was steady, and a new one raised, amounting together to near forty-thousand men. The protestants over the greatest part of Ireland were disarmed, the province of Ulster alone denied his authority; while the papists, confident of success, received him with shouts of joy and superstitious processions, which gave him still greater pleasure.
In this situation, the protestants of Ireland underwent the most oppressive and cruel indignities. Most of those who were attached to the revolution, were obliged to retire into Scotland and England, or hid themselves, or accepted written protections from their enemies. The bravest of them, however, to the number of ten thousand men, gathered round Londonderry, resolved to make their last stand at that place, for their religion and liberty. A few also rallied themselves at Inniskilling; and after the first panic was over, became more numerous by the junction of others.
James continued for some time irresolute what course to pursue; but as soon as the spring would permit, he went to lay siege to Londonderry, a town of small importance in itself, but rendered famous by the stand which it made on this occasion. Colonel Lundie had been appointed governor of the town by William, but was secretly attached to king James; and at a council of war, prevailed upon the officers and townsmen, to send messengers to the besiegers with an offer of surrender the day following. But the inhabitants, being apprised of his intention, and crying out that they were betrayed, rose in a fury against the governor and council; shot one of the officers whom they suspected, and boldly resolved to maintain the town, though destitute of leaders.
The town was weak in its fortifications, having only a wall eight or nine feet thick, and and weaker still in its artillery, there being not above twenty serviceable guns upon the works. The new-made garrison, however, made up every deficiency by courage; one Walker, a dissenting minister, and major Baker, put themselves at the head of these resolute men; and thus abandoned to their fate, they prepared for a vigorous resistance. The batteries of the besiegers soon began to play upon the town with great fury; and several attacks were made, but always repulsed with resolution. All the success that valour could promise, was on their side; but they, after some time, found themselves exhausted by continual fatigue; they were afflicted also with a contagious distemper which thinned their numbers; and as there were many useless mouths in the city, they began to be reduced to the greatest extremities for want of provision. They had even the mortification to see some ships, which had arrived with supplies from England, prevented from sailing up the river by the batteries of the enemy, and a boom by which they had blocked up the channel. General Kirke was not more successful, who attempted to come to their assistance, but was prevented from sailing up the river. All he could do, was to promise them speedy relief, and to exhort them to bear their miseries a little longer, with assurances of a glorious termination of them all. They had now consumed the last remains of their provision; and supported life, by eating horses, dogs, and all kinds of vermin, while even this loathsome food began to fail them. They had still farther the misery of seeing above four thousand of their fellow protestants, from different parts of the country, driven by Rosene, James's general, under the walls of the town, where they were kept three whole days without provision. Kirke, in the mean time, who had been sent to their relief, continued unactive, debating with himself between the prudence and necessity of his assistance. At last, receiving intelligence that the garrison, sunk with fatigues and famine, had sent proposals of capitulation, he resolved upon an attempt to throw provisions into the place, by means of three victuallers, and a frigate to cover them. As soon as these vessels sailed up the river, the eyes of all were fixed upon them; the besiegers eager to destroy, and the garrison as resolute for their defence. The foremost of the victuallers at the first shock broke the boom, but was stranded by the violence of her own shock. Upon this, a shout burst from the besiegers, which reached the camp and the city. They advanced with fury against a prize, which they considered as inevitable; while the smoke of the cannon on both sides wraped the whole scene in darkness. But to the astonishment of all, in a little time the victualler was seen emerging from imminent danger, having got off by the rebound of her own guns, while she led up her little squadron to the very walls of the town. The joy of the inhabitants at this unexpected relief, was only equalled by the rage and disappointment of the besiegers. The army of James was so dispirited by the success of this enterprize, that they abandoned the siege in the night; and retired with precipitation, after having lost above nine thousand men before the place. Kirke no sooner took possession of the town▪ than Walker was prevailed on to embark for England, with an address of thanks to king William, for the seasonable relief they had received.
The Inniskilliners were no less remarkable than the former for the valour and perseverance with which they espoused the interests of William. And indeed the bigotry and cruelty of the papists upon that occasion were sufficient to excite the tamest into opposition. The protestants, by an act of the popish parliament, under king James, were divested of those lands which they had been possessed of since the Irish rebellion. Three thousand of that persuasion, who had sought safety by flight, were found guilty of treason, and attainted. Soldiers were permitted to live upon free quarter; the people were plundered, the shops of tradesmen, and the kitchens of the citizens, were pillaged, to supply a quantity of brass, which was converted into coin, and passed, by royal mandate, for above forty times its real value. Not content with this, he imposed, by his own authority, a tax of twenty thousand pounds a month on personal property, and levied it by a commission under the great seal; all vacancies in public schools were supplied by popish teachers. The pension allowed from the exchequer to the University of Dublin was cut off, and that institution converted into a popish seminary. Brigadier Sarsfield commanded all protestants of a certain district to retire to the distance of ten miles from their habitations on pain of death; many perished with hunger, still more from being forced from their homes, during the severest inclemencies of the season.
But their sufferings were soon to have an an end. William at length perceived that his neglect of Ireland had been an error that required more than usual diligence to redress. He was afraid to send the late king's army to fight against him, and therefore ordered twenty-three new regiments to be raised for that purpose. These, with two Dutch batallions, and four of French refugees, together with the Inniskilliners, were appointed for the reduction of Ireland; and next to king William himself, Schomberg was appointed to command.
Schomberg was a Dutchman, who had long been the faithful servant of William, and had now past a life of eighty years almost continually in the field. The method of carrying on the war in Ireland, however, was a mode of operation with which he was entirely unacquainted. The forces he had to combat were incursive, barbarous, and shy; those he had to command were tumultuary, ungovernable, and brave. He considered not the dangers which threatened the health of his troops by being confined to one place; and he kept them in a low moist camp, near Dundalk, without firing almost of any kind; so that the men fell into fevers and fluxes, and died in great abundance. The enemy were not less afflicted with similar disorders. Both camps remained for some time in sight of each other, and at last the rainy season approaching, they both, as if by mutual agreement, quitted their camps at the same time, and retired into winter-quarters, without attempting to take the advantage of each other's retreat.
The bad success of the campaign, and the miserable situation of the protestants in Ireland, at length induced king William to attempt their relief in person, at the opening of the ensuing spring; and accordingly landed at Carrickfergus, where he found himself at the head of an army of six and thirty thousand effective men, which was more than a match for the forces of James, although they amounted to above ten thousand more.
A.D.
1690
William having received news that the French fleet was sailed for the coast of England, resolved, by measures of speed and vigour, to prevent the impression which that circumstance might make upon the minds of his soldiers; and therefore hastened to advance against James, who he heard had quitted Dublin, and had stationed his army at Ardee and Dundalk.
All the measures taken by William were dictated by prudence and valour, those pursued by his opponents seemed dictated by obstinacy and infatuation. They neglected to harrass him in his difficult march from the north; they neglected to oppose him at the strong pass at Newry; as he advanced they fell back first from Dundalk, and then from Ardee; and at last, upon the twenty-ninth of June, they fixed their camp in a strong station, on the other side of the Boyne. It was upon the opposite banks of this river that both armies came in sight of each other, inflamed with all the animosities arising from religion, hatred, and revenge. The river Boyne at this place was not so deep, but that men might wade over on foot; however the banks were rugged, and rendered dangerous by old houses and ditches, which served to defend the latent enemy. William had no sooner arrived, but he rode along the side of the river, in sight of both armies, to make proper observations upon the plan of battle; but in the mean time being perceived by the enemy, a cannon was privately brought out, and planted against him, where he was sitting. The shot killed several of his followers; and he himself was wounded in the shoulder. The news of his being slain was instantly propogated through the Irish camp, and was even sent off to Paris; but William, as soon as his wound was dressed, rode through the camp and quickly undeceived his army.
Upon retiring to his tent, after the danger of the day, he continued in meditation till nine o'clock at night, when, for form sake, he summoned a council of war, in which without asking advice, he declared his resolution to force a passage over the river the next morning. The duke of Schomberg attempted at first to expostulate with him upon the danger of the undertaking; but finding his master inflexible, he retired to his tent with a discontented aspect, as if he had a prescience of his own misfortune.
Early in the morning at six o'clock, king William gave orders to force a pass over the river. This the army undertook in three different places; and after a furious cannonading, the battle began with unusual vigour. The Irish troops, though reckoned the best in Europe abroad, have always fought indifferently at home. After an obstinate resistance, they fled with precipitation; leaving the French and Swiss regiments, who came to their assistance, to make the best retreat they could. William led on his horse in person; and contributed, by his activity and vigilance, to secure the victory. James was not in the battle, but stood aloof, during the action, on the hill of Dunmore, surrounded with some squadrons of horse; and at intervals was heard to exclaim, when he saw his own troops repulsing those of the enemy,
"O spare my English subjects."
The Irish lost about fifteen hundred men, and the protestants about one third of that number. The victory was splendid and almost decisive; but the death of the duke of Schomberg, who was shot as he was crossing the water, seemed to outweigh the whole loss sustained by the enemy. This old soldier of fortune had fought under almost every power in Europe. His skill in war was unparelleled, and his fidelity equal to his courage. The number of battles in which he had been personally engaged, was said to equal the number of his years, and he died at the age of eighty-two. He was killed by a discharge from his own troops, who, not knowing that he had been accidentally hurried into the midst of the enemy, fired upon the body of men by whom he was surrounded, and mortally wounded him.
James, while his armies were yet fighting, quitted his station; and leaving orders to defend the pass at Duleak, he made the best of his way to Dublin, desparing of future success. O'Regan, an old Irish captain, was heard to say upon this occasion, that if the English would exchange generals, the conquered army would fight the battle with them over again.
This blow totally depressed the hopes of James. He fled to Dublin, advised the magistrates to obtain the best terms they could from the victor, and then set out for Waterford, where he embarked for France, in a vessel fitted for his reception. Had he possessed either conduct or courage, he might still have headed his troops, and fought with advantage; but prudence forsook him with good fortune, and he returned to retrieve his affairs abroad, while he deserted them in the only place they were defensible.
His friends, however, were determined to second those interests which he himself had abandoned. Limerick, a strong city in the province of Munster, still held out for the late king, and braved all the attempts of William's army to reduce it. Sarsfield, a popular and experienced general, put himself at the head of the army that had been routed at the Boyne, and went farther into the country to defend the banks of the river Shannon, where he resolved to await the enemy. James, however, who would not defend the country himself, determined that none but such as were agreeable to him should defend it. He, therefore, appointed St. Ruth, a French general, who had signalized himself against the protestants in France, to command over Sarsfield, which gave the Irish universal discontent, as it shewed the king could neither rely on their skill or their fidelity. On the orther hand, general Ginckle, who had been appointed to command the English army in the absence of William, who was gone over to England, advanced with his forces to meet the enemy towards the Shannon, in order to pass that broad and dangerous river. The only place where it was fordable, was at Athlone, a strong walled town, built on both sides of the river, and defending that important pass. The part of the town on the hither side of the river was quickly taken sword in hand by the English; but the part on the opposite bank being defended with great vigour, for a while was thought impregnable. At length it was resolved, in a council of war, that a body of forelorn hope should ford the stream in the face of the enemy, which desperate attempt was performed with great resolution; the enemy were driven from their works, and the town surrendered at discretion. St. Ruth marched his army to give relief, but too late; for when he approached the walls, his own guns were turned against him. He no sooner saw this than his fears encreased in proportion to his former confidence; and dreading the impetuosity of a victorious enemy in his very camp, he marched off instantly, and took post at Aughrim, ten miles off. There he determined to await the English army, and decide the fate of Ireland at one blow.
Ginckle, having put Athlone in a posture of defence, passed the Shannon, and marched up to the enemy, determined to give them battle, though his forces did not exceed eighteen thousand men, while that of the enemy was above twenty-five thousand.
A.D.
1691
The Irish were posted in a very advantageous situation, being drawn out upon a rising ground, before which lay a bog that, to appearance, was passable only in two places. Their right was fortified by entrenchments, and their left secured by the castle of Aughrim. Ginckle having observed their situation, gave the necessary orders for attack; and, after a furious cannonading, the English army at twelve o'clock began to force the two passages of the bog, in order to possess the ground on the other side. The enemy fought with surprising fury, and the horse were several times repulsed; but at length the troops on the right, by the help of some field-pieces, carried their point. At six o'clock in the evening the left wing of the English army was advanced to the right of the Irish, and at length obliged it to give ground. In the mean time a more general attack was made upon the center; the English wading through the middle of the bog up to the waste in mud, and rallying with some difficulty on the firm ground on the other side, renewed the combat with great fury. At length St. Ruth being killed by a cannon-ball, his fate so dispirited his troops, that they gave way on all sides, and retreated to Limerick, where they resolved to make a final stand, after having lost above five thousand of the flower of their army. Limerick, the last retreat of the Irish forces, made a brave defence; but soon seeing the enemy advanced within ten paces of the bridge foot, and perceiving themselves surrounded on all sides, they determined to capitulate; a negociation was immediately begun, and hostilities ceased on both sides. The Roman catholics by this capitulation were restored to the enjoyment of those liberties in the exercise of their religion, which they had possessed in the reign of king Charles the second. All persons were indulged with free leave to remove with their families and effects to any other country, except England and Scotland. In consequence of this, about fourteen thousand of those who had fought for king James went over into France, having transports provided by government for conveying them thither. When they arrived in France they were thanked for their loyalty by king James, who told them that they should still fight for their old master; and that he had obtained an order from the king of France for their being new cloathed, and put into quarters of refreshment.
In this manner all the expectations which might arise from the attachment of the Irish were entirely at an end; that kingdom submitted peaceably to the English government, and James was to look for other assistance to prop his declining pretensions. His chief hopes lay in a conspiracy among his English adherents, and in the succours which were promised him by the French king. The success of the conspiracy was the first to disappoint his expectations. This was originally hatched in Scotland by Sir James Montgomery, a person who, from being an adherent to William, now turned against him; but as the project was ill conceived, so it was as lightly discovered by the instigator. To this another succeeded, which seemed to threaten more serious consequences, as it was chiefly managed by the Whig party, who were the most formidable in the state. A number of these joined themselves to the Tory party, and both made advances to the adherents of the late king. They assembled together; and the result of their deliberations was, that the restoration of James was to be entirely effected by foreign forces; that he should sail for Scotland, and be there joined by five thousand Swedes, who, because they were of the protestant religion, it was thought would remove a part of the odium which attended an invasion by foreigners; that assistance should at the same time be sent from France, and that full liberty of conscience should be proclaimed throughout the kingdom. In order to lose no time, it was resolved to send over two trusty persons to France to consult with the banished monarch; and lord Preston and Mr. Ashton were the persons appointed for this dangerous embassy. Accordingly Ashton hired a small vessel for this purpose; and the two conspirators went secretly on board, happy in the supposed secrecy of their schemes; but there had been previous information given of their intentions; and lord Carmarthen had them both seized, just at the time they thought themselves out of all danger. The conspirators refused to inform; their trials were therefore hurried on about a fortnight after they were taken, in order, by the terrors of death, to force a discovery. They were both condemned; Ashton was executed, without making any confession; lord Preston had not the same resolution. Upon an offer of a pardon he discovered a great number of associates, among whom the duke of Ormond, lord Dartmouth, and lord Clarendon were foremost.
The reduction of Ireland, and the wretched success of the late conspiracy, made the French at last sensible of their impolitic parsimony in losing a kingdom, whose divisions would no longer be of use to them. They were willing, therefore, to concur with the fugitive king, and resolved to make a descent upon England in his favour. In pursuance of this scheme, the French king supplied James with an army consisting of a body of French troops, some English and Scotch refugees, and the Irish regiments, which had been transported from Limerick into France, now become excellent soldiers by long discipline and severe duty. This army was assembled between Cherbourg and La Hogue, and was commanded by king James in person. More than three hundred transports were provided for landing it on the opposite English coast; and Tourville, the French admiral, at the head of sixty-three ships of the line, was appointed to favour the descent. His orders were, at all events, to attack the enemy, in case they should oppose him; so that every thing promised the banished king a change of fortune.
These preparations on the side of France were soon known at the English court, and every precaution taken for a vigorous opposition.
A.D.
1692
All the secret machinations of the banished king's adherents were discovered to the English ministry by spies; and by these they found, with some mortification, that the Tories were more faithful than even the Whigs, who had placed king William on the throne. The duke of Marlborough, lord Godolphin, and even the princess Anne herself, were violently suspected of disaffection; the fleet, the army, and the church, were seen mistaking their desire of novelty for a return of duty to their banished sovereign. However, preparations were made to resist the growing storm with great tranquillity and resolution. Admiral Russel was ordered to put to sea with all possible expedition; and he soon appeared with ninety-nine ships of the line, besides frigates and fire-ships; an immense force, and what Europe had seldom seen till that time. At the head of this formidable squadron he set sail for the coast of France, and at last, near La Hogue, discovered the enemy under admiral Tourville, who prepared to give him battle. Accordingly the engagement began between the two admirals with great fury; the rest of the fleet on each side soon followed the example. This memorable engagement lasted for ten hours, and all James's hopes depended on the event. Victory at last declared on the side of numbers; the French fled for Conquet Road, having lost four ships in the first day's action. The pursuit continued for two days following; three French ships of the line were destroyed the next day, and eighteen more burned by Sir George Rooke, which had taken refuge in the bay of La Hogue. In this manner all the preparations on the side of France were frustrated; and so decisive was the blow, that from that time France seemed to relinquish all their claims to the ocean.
James was now reduced to the lowest ebb of despondence, his designs upon England were quite frustrated, so that nothing was left his friends, but the hopes of assassinating the monarch on the throne. These base attempts, as barbarous as they were useless, were not entirely disagreeable to the temper of James. It is said he encouraged and proposed them; but they all proved unserviceable to his cause, and only ended in the destruction of the undertakers. From that time till he died, which was about seven years, he continued to reside at St. Germains, a pensioner on the bounties of Lewis, and assisted by occasional liberalities from his daughter and friends in England. He died on the sixteenth day of September, in the year 1700, after having laboured under a tedious sickness, and many miracles, as the people thought, were wrought at his tomb. Indeed the latter part of his life, was calculated to inspire the superstitious with reverence for his piety. He subjected himself to acts of uncommon penance and mortification. He frequently visited the poor monks of La Trappe, who were edified by his humble and pious deportment. His pride and arbitrary temper, seemed to have vanished with his greatness; he became affable, kind, and easy, to all his dependents; and in his last illness, conjured his son to prefer religion to every wordly advantage, a counsel which that prince strictly obeyed. He died with great marks of devotion, and was interred, at his own request, in the church of the English Benedictines at Paris, without any funeral solemnity.
The defeat at La Hogue confirmed king William's safety, and secured his title to the crown. The Jacobites were ever feeble, but they were now a disunited faction; new parties arose among those who had been friends to the revolution, and the want of a common enemy, produced dissensions among themselves. William now began to find as much opposition and uneasiness from his parliament at home, as from the enemy in the field. His chief motive for accepting the crown, was to engage England more deeply in the concerns of Europe. It had ever been the object of his wish, and the scope of his ambition to humble the French, whom he considered as the most formidable enemies of that liberty which he idolized; and all his politics consisted in forming alliances against them. Many of the English, on the other hand, had neither the same animosity against the French, nor the same terrors of their encreasing power. These, therefore, considered the interest of the nation as sacrificed to foreign connections; and complained that the war on the continent fell most heavily on them, though they had the least interest in its success. To these motives of discontent were added the king's partiality to his own countrymen, in prejudice of his English subjects, together with his proud reserve and sullen silence, so unlike the behaviour of all their former kings. William, however, little regarded those discontents, which he knew must be consequent on all government; accustomed to opposition, he heard their complaints with the most phlegmatic indifference, and employed all his attention only on the balance of power, and the interests of Europe. Thus while he incessantly waked over the schemes of contending kings and nations, he was unmindful of the cultivation of internal polity; and as he formed alliances abroad, encreased the influence of party at home. Patriotism began to be ridiculed as an ideal virtue, the practice of bribing a majority in parliament became universal. The example of the great was caught up by the vulgar; principle, and even decency, was gradually banished; talents lay uncultivated, and the ignorant and profligate were received into favour.
Upon accepting of the crown, the king was resolved to preserve, as much as he was able, that share of prerogative which still was left him. He was as yet entirely unacquainted with the nature of a limited monarchy, which was not at that time thoroughly understood in any part of Europe, except England alone. He, therefore, often controverted the views of his parliament, and suffered himself to be directed by weak and arbitrary counsels. One of the first instances of this, was in the opposition he gave to a bill for limiting the duration of parliaments to the space of three years. This bill had passed the two houses, and was sent up to receive the royal assent as usual; but the nation was surprised to find that the king was resolved to exert his prerogative on this occasion, and to refuse his assent to an act which was then considered as beneficial to the nation. Both houses took the alarm; the commons came to a resolution, that whoever advised the king to this measure was an enemy to his country, and the people were taught to eccho their resentment. The bill thus rejected, lay dormant for another season; but being again brought in, the king found himself obliged, though reluctantly, to comply.
The same opposition, and the same event, attended a bill for regulating trials, in cases of high treason, by which the accused was allowed a copy of his indictment, and a list of the names of his jury, two days before his trial, together with counsel to plead in his defence. It was still farther enacted, that no person should be indicted but upon the oaths of two faithful witnesses; a law that gave the subject a perfect security from the terrors of the throne.
It was in the midst of these laws, beneficial to the subject, that the Jacobites still conceived hopes of restoring their fallen monarch; and being uneasy themselves, supposed the whole kingdom shared their disquietudes. While one part proceeded against William in the bolder manner, by attempting to excite an insurrection, another, consisting of the most desperate conspirators, formed a scheme of assassination. Sir George Barclay, a native of Scotland, who had served as an officer in James's army, a man of undaunted courage, which was still more enflamed by his bigotry to the religion of the church of Rome, undertook the bold task of seizing or assassinating the king. This design he imparted to Harrison, Charnock, Porter, and Sir William Perkins, by whom it was approved; and after various consultations, it was resolved to attack the king on his return from Richmond, where he commonly hunted on Saturdays; and the scene of their ambuscade was a lane between Brentford and Turnham-Green. To secure success, it was agreed that their number should be encreased to forty horsemen, and each conspirator began to engage proper persons to assist in this dangerous enterprize. When their number was complete, they waited with impatience for the hour of action; but some of the under actors, seized with fear or remorse, resolved to prevent the execution by a timely discovery. One Pendergast, an Irish officer, gave information of the plot, but refused to mention the persons who were concerned as associates in the undertaking. His information was at first disregarded; but it was soon confirmed by one Le Rue, a Frenchman, and still more by the flight of Sir George Barclay, who began to perceive that the whole was discovered. The night, subsequent to the intended day of assassination, a large number of the conspirators were apprehended, and the whole discovery was communicated to the privy-council. Pendergast became an evidence for the crown, and the conspirators were brought to their trial. The first who suffered, were Robert Charnock, one of the two fellows of Magdalen college, who, in the reign James, had renounced the protestant religion; lieutenant King, and Thomas Keys. They were found guilty of high treason, and suffered at Tyburn. Sir John Freind, and Sir William Perkins were next arraigned; and altho' they made a very good, and as it should seem a very sufficient defence, yet lord chief justice Holt, who was but too well known to act rather as counsel against the prisoner, than as a sollicitor in their favour, influenced the jury to find them guilty. They both suffered at Tyburn with great constancy, denying the charge, and testifying their abhorrence of the assassination. In the course of the month, Rookwood, Cranbourne, and Lowick, were tried by a special commission as conspirators, and, being found guilty, shared the fate of the former. But the case of Sir John Fenwick was considered as one of the greatest stretches of power exhibited during this reign. This gentleman, whose name had been mentioned among the rest of the conspirators, was apprehended in his way to France. There was little evidence against him, except an intercepted letter which he wrote to his wife. It is true, he offered to discover all he knew of a conspiracy against the king; but when he came to enter into the detail, he so managed his information, that it could affect no individual concerned. King William, therefore, sent over word from Holland, where he then was, that unless the prisoner could make more material discoveries, he should be brought to his trial. The only material evidences against him, were one Porter, and Goodman, but of these lady Fenwick had the good fortune to secrete one, so that only Porter, a single witness remained; and his unsupported evidence, by the late law, was insufficient to affect the life of the prisoner. However, the house of commons were resolved to inflict that punishment upon him, which the laws were unable to execute. As he had, in his discoveries, made very free with the names of many persons in that house, admiral Russel insisted that he might have an opportunity of vindicating his own character in particular. Sir John Fenwick was ordered to the bar of the house, and there exhorted by the speaker to make an ample discovery. He refused, and a bill of attainder was preferred against him, which was passed by a large majority. He was furnished with a copy of the indictment, allowed counsel at the bar of the house, and the counsel of the crown was called upon to open the evidence. After much disputation, where passion and revenge, was rather attended to than reason, the bill was committed, and sent up to the house lords, where Sir John Fenwick was found guilty, by a majority only of seven voices. The prisoner sollicited the mediation of the lords in his behalf, while his friends implored the royal mercy. The lords gave him to understand, that the success of his suit would depend on the fullness of his discoveries. He would have previously stipulated for pardon, and they insisted on his trusting to their favour. He hesitated some time, between the fears of infamy and the terrors of death. At last he chose death as the least terrible, and he suffered beheading on Tower-hill with great composure. His death proved the insufficiency of any laws to protect the subject, when a majority of the powerful shall think proper to dispense with them!
This stretch of power in the parliament was in some measure compensated by their diligence in restraining the universal corruption that seemed at that time to prevail over the kingdom. They were assiduously employed in bringing those to justice who had grown wealthy by public plunder, and increasing the number of those laws which restrained the arts of peculation. The number of these, while they seemed calculated for the benefit of the nation, were in reality symptoms of the general depravity; for the more numerous the laws, the more corrupt the state.
The king, however, on his part became at length fatigued with opposing the laws, which parliament every day were laying round his authority, and gave up the contest. He admitted every restraint upon the prerogative in England, upon condition of being properly supplied with the means of humbling the power of France. War, and the balance of power in Europe, where all he knew, or indeed desired to understand. Provided the parliament furnished him with supplies for these purposes, he permitted them to rule the internal polity at their pleasure. For the prosecution of the war with France, the sums of money granted him were incredible. The nation, not contented with furnishing him such sums of money as they were capable of raising by the taxes of the year, mortgaged those taxes, and involved themselves in debts, which they have never since been able to discharge. For all that profusion of wealth granted to maintain the imaginary balance of Europe, England received in return the empty reward of military glory in Flanders, and the consciousness of having given their allies, particularly the Dutch, frequent opportunities of being ungrateful.
A.D.
1697
The war with France continued during the greatest part of this king's reign; but at length the treaty of Ryswick put an end to those contentions, in which England had engaged without policy, and came off without advantage. In the general pacification, her interests seemed entirely deserted; and for all the treasures she had sent to the continent, and all the blood which she had shed there, the only equivalent she received was an acknowledgement of king William's title from the king of France.
The king, now freed from a foreign war, laid himself out to strengthen his authority at home; but he shewed that he was but ill acquainted with the disposition of the people he was to govern. As he could not bear the thoughts of being a king without military command, he conceived hopes of keeping up the forces that were granted him in time of danger, during the continuance of a profound peace. But what was his mortification to find the commons pass a vote, that all the forces in English pay, exceeding seven thousand men, should be forthwith disbanded, and that those retained should be natural-born subjects of England. A monarch bred up in camps as he was, and who knew scarce any other pleasure but that of reviewing troops, and dictating to generals, could not think of laying down at once all his power and all his amusements. He professed himself therefore, highly displeased with the vote of the commons; and his indignation was kindled to such a pitch, that he actually conceived a design of abandoning the government. His ministers, however, diverted him from this resolution, and persuaded him to consent to passing the bill.
These altercations between the king and parliament continued during the remainder of this reign. William considered the commons as a body of men desirous of power for themselves, and consequently bent upon obstructing all his projects to secure the liberties of Europe. He seemed but little attached to any particular party in the house, all of whom he found at times deserted or opposed him. He therefore veered to Whigs and Tories indiscriminately, as interest, or the immediate exigence demanded. He was taught to consider England as a place of labour, anxiety, and altercation. If he had any time for amusement or relaxation, he retired to Loo in Holland, where, among a few friends, he gave a loose to those coarse festivities, which alone he was capable of relishing. It was there he planned the different succession of the princes of Europe, and laboured to undermine the schemes and the power of Lewis, his rival in politics and in fame.
However feeble his desire of other amusements might have been, he could scarce live without being at variance with France. Peace had scarce been made with that nation, when he began to think of new resources for carrying on a new war, and for enlisting his English subjects in the confederacy against that nation. Several arts were used for inducing the people to second his aims; and the whole nation at last seemed to join in desiring a war with that kingdom. He had been in Holland, concerting with his allies operations for a new campaign. He had engaged in a negociation with the prince of Hesse, who assured him, that if he would besiege and take Cadiz, the admiral of Castile, and divers other grandees of Spain, would declare for the house of Austria. The elector of Hanover had resolved to concur in the same measures; the king of the Romans, and prince Lewis of Baden, undertook to invest Laudan, while the emperor promised to send a powerful reinforcement into Italy; but death put a period to his projects and his ambition.
William was naturally of a very feeble constitution; and it was by this time almost exhausted, by a series of continual disquietude and action. He had endeavoured to repair his constitution, or at least conceal its decays, by exercise and riding. On the twenty-first day of February, in riding to Hampton-Court from Kensington, his horse fell under him, and he was thrown with such violence, that his collar bone was fractured. His attendants conveyed him to the palace of Hampton court, where the fracture was reduced, and in the evening he returned to Kensington in his coach. The jolting of the carriage disunited the fracture once more; and the bones were again replaced, under Bidloo his physician. This in a robust constitution would have been a trifling misfortune; but in him it was fatal. For some time he appeared in a fair way of recovery; but falling asleep on his couch, he was seized with a shivering, which terminated in a fever and diarrhaea, which soon became dangerous and desperate. Perceiving his end approaching, the objects of his former care lay still next his heart; and the fate of Europe seemed to remove the sensations he might be supposed to feel for his own. The earl of Albermarle arriving from Holland, he conferred with him in private on the posture of affairs abroad. Two days after having received the sacrament from archbishop Tenison, he expired in the fifty-second year of his age, after having reigned thirteen years. He was in his person of a middle stature, a thin body, and a delicate constitution. He had an aquiline nose, sparkling eyes, a large forehead, and a grave solemn aspect. He left behind him the character of a great politician, though he had never been popular; and a formidable general, though he was seldom victorious. His deportment was grave, phlegmatic, and sullen; nor did he ever shew any fire but in the day of battle. He despised flattery, yet loved dominion. Greater as the stadtholder of Holland than as king of England; to the one he was a father, to the other a suspicious friend. His character and success serve to shew, that moderate abilities will atchieve the greatest purposes, if the objects aimed at be pursued with perseverance, and planned without unnecessary or ostentatious refinement.
ANNE
Hall sculp.
CHAP. XXXIX. ANNE.
THE nearer we approach to our own times, the more important every occurrence becomes; and those battles or treaties which in remoter times are deservedly forgotten, as we come down are necessary to be known. Our own private interests being generally blended with every event; and the accounts of public welfare make often a transcript of private happiness. The loss of king William was thought at first irreparable; but the kingdom soon found that the happiness of any reign is to be estimated as much from the general manners of the times, as the private virtues of the monarch. Queen Anne, his successor, with no very shining talents, and few exalted virtues, yet governed with glory, and left her people happy.
Anne, married to prince George of Denmark, ascended the throne in the thirty-eighth year of her age, to the general satisfaction of all parties. She was the second daughter of king James by his first wife, the daughter of chancellor Hyde, afterwards earl of Clarendon. As she had been taught in the preceding part of life to suffer many mortifications from the reigning king, she had thus learned to conceal her resentments; and the natural tranquillity of her temper still more contributed to make her overlook and pardon every opposition. She either was insensible of any disrespect shewn her, or had wisdom to dissemble insensibility.
The late king, whose whole life had been spent in one continued opposition to the king of France, and all whose politics consisted in forming alliances against him, had left England at the eve of a war with that monarch. The present queen, who generally took the advice of her ministry in every important transaction, was upon this occasion urged by opposing counsels; a part of her ministry were for war, while another part as sincerely declared for peace.
At the head of those who opposed a war with France was the earl of Rochester, lord-lieutenant of Ireland, first cousin to the queen, and the chief of the Tory faction. This minister proposed in council that the English should avoid a declaration of war with France, and at most act as auxiliaries only. He urged the impossibility of England's reaping any advantage by the most distinguished success upon the continent, and exposed the folly of loading the nation with debts to encrease the riches of its commercial rivals.
In the van of those who declared for prosecuting the late king's intentions of going to war with France, was the earl, since better known by the title of the duke of Marlborough. This nobleman had begun life as a court page, and was raised by king James to a peerage. Having deserted his old master he attached himself in appearance to king William; but had still a secret partiality in favour of the Tories, from whom he had received his first employments. Ever willing to thwart and undermine the measures of William, he became a favourite of Anne for that very reason; she loved a man who still professed reverence and veneration for her father, and paid the utmost attention to herself. But Marlborough had still another hold upon the queen's affections and esteem. He was married to a lady who was the queen's peculiar confidante, and who governed her in every action of life with unbounded authority. By this canal Marlborough actually directed the queen in all her resolutions; and while his rivals strove to advance their reputation in the council, he was more effectually securing it in the closet.
It was not, therefore, without private reasons that Marlborough inclined for war. It first gave him an opportunity of taking a different side of the question from the earl of Rochester, whose influence he desired to lessen; but he had in the next place hopes of being appointed general of the forces that should be sent over to the continent, a command that would gratify his ambition in all its varieties. He therefore observed in council, that the honour of the nation was concerned to fulfil the late king's engagements. He affirmed, that France could never be reduced within due bounds, unless England would enter as a principal in the quarrel. His opinion, therefore, preponderated; the queen resolved to declare war, and communicated her intentions to the house of commons, by whom it was approved, and war was proclaimed accordingly.
Lewis XIV. once arrived at the summit of glory, but long since grown familiar with disappointment and disgrace, still kept spurring on an exhausted kingdom to second the views of his ambition. He now, therefore, upon the death of William expected to enter upon a field open for conquests and fame. The vigilance of his late rival had blasted all his laurels, and circumscribed his power; for even though defeated, William still was formidable. At the news of his death, therefore, the French monarch could not suppress his rapture; and his court at Versailles seemed to have forgotten their usual decency in the effusions of their satisfaction. The people of Paris openly rejoiced at the event; and the whole kingdom testified their rapture by every public demonstration of joy. But their pleasure was soon to have an end. A much more formidable enemy was now rising up to oppose them; a more refined politician, a more skilful general, backed by the confidence of an indulgent mistress, and the efforts of a willing nation.
The king of France was, in the queen's declaration of war, taxed with having taken possession of a great part of the Spanish dominions, with designing to invade the liberties of Europe, to obstruct the freedom of navigation and commerce; and with having offered an unpardonable insult to the queen and her throne, by acknowledging the title of the pretender. He was accused of attempting to unite the crown of Spain to his own dominions, by placing his grandson upon the throne of that kingdom, and thus of endeavouring to destroy the equality of power that subsisted among the states of Europe.
This declaration of war on the part of the English, was seconded by similar declarations by the Dutch and Germans, all on the same day. The French monarch could not suppress his anger at such a combination, but his chief resentment fell upon the Dutch. He declared, with great emotion, that as for those gentlemen pedlars, the Dutch, they should one day repent their insolence and presumption, in declaring war against one whose power they had formerly felt and dreaded. However, the affairs of the allies were no way influenced by his threats. Marlborough had his views gratified, in being appointed general of the English forces; and he was still farther flattered by the Dutch, who, though the earl of Athlone had a right to share the command, appointed Marlborough generalissimo of the allied army. And it must be confessed, that few men shone more, either in debate or action, than he; serene in the midst of danger, and indefatigable in the cabinet; so that he became the most formidable enemy to France that England had produced, since the conquering times of Cressy and Agincourt.
A great part of the history of this reign, consists in battles fought upon the continent, which though of very little advantage to the interests of the nation, were very great additions to its honour. These triumphs, it is true, are passed away, and nothing remains of them; but they are too recent to be omitted in silence, and the fame of them, though it be empty, still continues to be loud.
The duke of Marlborough had learned the first rudiments of the art of war, under the famous marshal Turenne, having been a volunteer in his army. He was at first, rather more remarkable for the beauty of his person, than the greatness of his talents, and he went, in the French camp, by the name of the Handsome Englishman; but Turenne, who saw deeper into mankind, perceived the superiority of his talents, and prognosticated his future greatness. The first attempt that Marlborough made to deviate from the general practices of the army, which were founded in error, was to advance the subaltern officers, whose merit had hitherto been neglected. Regardless of seniority, wherever he found abilities, he was sure to promote them; and thus he had all the upper ranks of commanders, rather remarkable for their skill and talents, than for their age and experience.
In his first campaign, the beginning of July, he repaired to the camp at Nimeguen, where he found himself at the head of an army of sixty thousand men, well provided with all necessaries, and long disciplined by the best officers of the age. He was opposed on the side of France, by the duke of Burgundy, grandson to the king, a youth more qualified to grace a court than to conduct an army; but the real acting general was the marshal Boufflers, who commanded under him, an officer of courage and activity. But wherever Marlborough advanced, the French were obliged to retire before him, leaving all Spanish Guelderland at his discretion. The duke of Burgundy, finding himself obliged to retreat before the allied army, rather than expose himself longer to such a mortifying indignity, returned to Versailles, leaving Boufflers to command alone. Boufflers, confounded at the rapidity of the enemies progress, retired towards Brabant, where Marlborough had no design to pursue; contented with ending the campaign by the taking the city of Liege, in which was found an immense sum of money, and a great number of prisoners. By the success of this campaign, Marlborough raised his military character, and confirmed himself in the confidence of the allies, naturally inclined to distrust a foreign commander.
Marlborough, upon his return to London, was received with the most flattering testimonies of public approbation. He was thanked for his services by the house of commons, and was created a duke by the queen. His good fortune seemed to console the nation for some unsuccessful expeditions at sea. Sir John Munden had permitted a French squadron of fourteen ships to escape him, by taking shelter in the harbour of Corunna, for which he was dismissed the service by prince George. An attempt was also made upon Cadiz by sea and land, Sir George Rooke commanding the navy, and the duke of Ormond the land forces, but this also miscarried. But the English arms were crowned with success at Vigo, where the duke of Ormond landed with five and twenty hundred men, at the distance of six miles from the city; while the fleet forcing their way into the harbour, the French fleet that had taken refuge there were burned by the enemy, to prevent falling into the hands of the English. Eight ships were thus burned and ran a-shore; but ten ships of war were taken, together with eleven galeons, and above a million of money in silver, which was of more benefit to the captors than the public. The advantage which was acquired by this expedition was counterbalanced by the base conduct of some officers in the West-Indies. Admiral Benbow, a bold rough seaman, had been stationed in that part of the world with ten ships, to distress the enemies trade. Being informed that Du Casse, the French admiral, was in those seas with a force equal to his own, he resolved to attack him; and soon after discovered the enemies squadron near St. Martha, steering along the shore. He quickly gave orders to his captains, formed the line of battle, and the engagement began. He found, however, that the rest of his fleet had taken some disgust at his conduct, and that they permitted him, almost alone, to sustain the whole fire of the enemy. Nevertheless the engagement continued till night, and he determined to renew it the next morning. But he had the mortification to perceive that all the rest of his ships had fallen back except one, who joined him in urging the pursuit of the enemy. For four days did this intrepid seaman, assisted only by one ship, pursue and engage the enemy, while his cowardly officers, at a distance behind, remained spectators of his activity. His last day's battle, was more furious than all the former: alone, and unsustained by the rest, he engaged the whole French squadron, when his leg was shattered by a cannon-ball. He then ordered that they should place him in a cradle upon the quarter-deck; and there he continued to give orders as before, till, at last his ship being quite disabled, was unfit to continue the chace any longer. When one of his lieutenants expressed his sorrow for the loss of the admiral's leg,
"I am sorry for it too, cried Benbow, but I had rather have lost both my legs, than see the dishonour of this day. But do you hear, if another shot should take me off, behave like brave men, and fight it out."
He soon after died of his wounds; and his cowardly associates, Kirby and Wade were tried by a court martial, and sentenced to be shot. Hudson died before his trial. Constable, Vincent, and Fogg, came off with slighter punishment. Kirby and Wade were sent home in the Bristol man of war; and on their arrival at Plymouth shot on board the ship, by virtue of a warrant for their immediate execution, which had lain there for some time.
The next parliament, which was convened by the queen, was highly pleased with the glare of success which attended the English arms on the continent. The house of commons was mostly made up of the Tory party, and consequently much more liberal in their supplies, than a Whig parliament would have been. They voted forty thousand seamen, and the like number of land forces, to act in conjunction with those of the allies. It was never considered how little necessary these great efforts were, either to the happiness, or protection of the people; they were exerted against the French, and that was an answer to every demand. A short time after, the queen gave the house of commons to understand, that the allies pressed her to augment her forces. The commons were as ready to grant as she to demand, and it was resolved that ten thousand men more should be added to the army on the continent, but upon condition that the Dutch should break off all commerce with France and Spain. The Dutch complied without hesitation; sensible that while England fought their battles, they might a little relax their industry.
The duke of Marlborough crossed the sea in the beginning of April,
A.D.
1706
and assembling the allied army, resolved to shew that his former successes, only spurred him on to new triumphs. He opened the campaign with the siege of Bonne, the residence of the elector of Cologne. This held out but a short time against the successive attacks of the prince of Hesse Cassel, the celebrated Coehorn, and general Fagel. He next retook Huy, the garrison of which, after a vigorous defence, surrendered prisoners of war. The siege of Limburg was then undertaken, the place surrendered in two days; and by the conquest of this place, the allies secured the country of Liege, and the electorate of Cologne from the designs of the enemy. Such was the campaign in the Netherlands, which, in all probability, would have produced events of greater importance, had not the duke of Marlborough been restrained by the Dutch, who began to be influenced by the Love
ein faction, ever averse to war with France.
The duke was resolved in his next campaign to act more offensively; and, furnished with proper powers from the queen, he informed the Dutch that it was his intention to march to the relief of the empire, that had been for some time oppressed by the French forces. The states general, either willing to second his efforts, or fearing to weaken the alliance by distrust, gave him full power to march as he thought proper, with assurances of their assistance in all his endeavours. The French king now appointed the marshal Villeroy to head the army of opposition; for Boufflers was no longer thought an equal to the enterprising duke.
Villeroy was son to the king of France's governor, and had been educated with that monarch. He had been always the favourite of Lewis, and had long been a sharer in his amusements, his campaigns, and his glory. He was brave, generous, and polite, but unequal to the great task of commanding an army; and still more so, when opposed to so great a rival. Marlborough, therefore, who was peculiarly famous for studying the disposition and abilities of the general he was to oppose. having no very great fears from his present antagonist; instead of going forward to meet him, flew to the succour of the emperor, as had been already agreed at the commencement of the campaign. The English general, who was resolved to strike a vigorous blow for his relief, took with him about thirteen thousand English troops, traversed extensive countries by hasty marches, arrived at the banks of the Danube, defeated a body of French and Bavarians, stationed at Donavert to oppose him, then passed the Danube with his triumphant army, and laid the dukedom of Bavaria, that had sided with the enemy, under contribution. Villeroy, who at first attempted to follow his motions, seemed all at once to have lost sight of his enemy; nor was he apprised of his route, till informed of his successes. Marshal Tallard prepared by another route to obstruct the duke of Marlborough's retreat, with an army of thirty thousand men. He was soon after joined by the duke of Bavaria's forces, so that the French army in that part of the continent amounted to sixty thousand veterans, and commanded by the two best reputed generals then in France.
Tallard had established his reputation by many former victories; he was active and penetrating, and had risen by his merits alone to the first station in the army. But his ardour often rose to impetuosity; and he was so shortsighted as to be incapable of seeing objects at a very small distance. The duke of Bavaria, was equally experienced in the field, and had still stronger motives for his activity. His country was ravaged and pillaged before his eyes, and nothing remained of his possessions, but the army which he commanded. It was in vain that he sent entreaties to the enemy to stop the fury of their incursions, and to spare his people; the only answer he received was, that it lay in his own power to make his enemies friends, by alliance or submission. To oppose these powerful generals, the duke was now joined by a body of thirty thousand men, under the conduct of the prince Eugene, whose troops were well disciplined, but still more formidable by the conduct and fame of their general. Prince Eugene had been bred up from his infancy in camps; he was almost equal to Marlborough in intrigue, and his superior in the art of war. Their talents were of a similar kind; and instead of any mean rivalship or jealousy between such eminent persons, they concurred in the same designs; for the same good sense determined them always to the same object.
This allied army, at the head of which Eugene and Marlborough commanded, amounted to about fifty-two thousand men, troops that had long been accustomed to conquer, and that had seen the French, the Turks, and the Russians fly before them. The French, as was already observed, amounted to sixty thousand, who had shared ini the conquests of their great monarch, and had been familiar with victory. Both armies, after many marchings and countermarchings, approached each other. The French were posted on an hill near the town of Hochstet; their right covered by the Danube, and the village of Blenheim; their left by the village of Lutzengen, and their front by a rivulet, the banks of which were steep, and the bottom marshy. It was in this advantageous position, that the allied army resolved to attack them. As this engagment, which has since been known by the name of the battle of Blenheim, both from the talents of the generals, the improvements in the art of war, and the number and discipline of the troops, is reckoned the most remarkable of this century, it demands a more particular detail than I have alotted to such narrations.
The right wing of the French, which was covered by the Danube, and the village of Blenheim, was commanded by marshal Tallard. Their left, defended by another village, was commanded by the duke of Bavaria, and under him general Marsin, an experienced Frenchman. In the front of their army ran a rivulet, which seemed to defend them from an attack; and in this position they were willing to await the enemy, rather than offer battle. On the other hand, Marlborough and Eugene were stimulated to engage them at any rate, by an intercepted letter from Villeroy, who was left behind, intimating that he was preparing to cut off all communication between the Rhine and the allied army. The dispositions being made for the attack, and the orders communicated to the general officers, the allied forces advanced into the plain, and were ranged in order of battle. The cannonading began about nine in the morning, and continued to about half after twelve. Then the troops advanced to the attack; the right under the direction of prince Eugene, the left headed by Marlborough, and opposed to marshal Tallard.
Marlborough, at the head of his English troops, having passed the rivulet, attacked the cavalry of Tallard with great bravery. This general was at that time reviewing the disposition of his troops to the left; and his cavalry fought for some time without the presence of their commander. Prince Eugene on the left had not yet attacked the forces of the elector; and it was near an hour before he could bring up his troops to the engagement.
Tallard was no sooner informed that his right was attacked by the duke, but he flew to its head, where he found a furious encounter already begun; his cavalry being thrice driven back, and rallying as often. He had posted a large body of forces in the village of Blenheim; and he made an attempt to bring them to the charge. They were attacked by a detachment of Marlborough's forces so vigorously, that instead of assisting the main body, they could hardly maintain their ground. All the French cavalry being thus attacked in flank was totally defeated. The English army, thus half victorious, pierced up between the two bodies of the French commanded by the marshal and elector, while at the same time the forces in the village of Blenheim were separated by another detachment. In this distressed situation, Tallard flew to rally some squadrons; but from his short sightedness mistaking a detachment of the enemy for his own, he was taken prisoner by the Hessian troops, who were in English pay. In the mean time prince Eugene on his part, after having been thrice repulsed, at last put the enemy into confusion. The rout then became general, and the flight precipitate. The consternation was such, that the French soldiers threw themselves into the Danube, without knowing where they fled. The officers lost all their authority, and there was no general left to secure a retreat.
The allies now being masters of the field of battle, surrounded the village of Blenheim, where a body of thirteen thousand men had been posted in the beginning of the action, and still kept their ground. These troops seeing themselves cut off from all communication with the rest of the army, threw down their arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. Thus ended the battle of Blenheim, one of the most complete victories that ever was obtained. Twelve thousand French and Bavarians were slain in the field, or drowned in the Danube, and thirteen thousand were made prisoners of war. Of the allies about five thousand men were killed, and eight thousand wounded or taken. The loss of the battle was imputed to two capital errors committed by marshal Tallard; namely, his weakening the center by placing so large a body of troops in the village of Blenheim, and his suffering the English to cross the rivulet, and form on the other side.
The next day, when the duke of Marlborough visited his prisoner, the marshal, intending a compliment, assured him that he had overcome the best troops in the world.
"I hope Sir, replied the duke, you will except those troops by whom they were conquered."
A country of an hundred leagues extent fell by this defeat into the hands of the victor. Not contented with these conquests, the duke▪ soon after the finishing the campaign, repaired to Berlin, where he procured a reinforcement of eight thousand Prussians to serve under prince Eugene in Italy. Thence he proceeded to negotiate for succours at the court of Hanover, and soon after returned to England, where he found the people in a phrenzy of joy. He was received as the deliverer of the state, as one who had retrieved the glory of the nation. The parliament and the people were ready to second him in all his designs. The manor of Woodstock was conferred upon him for his services by both houses; an eulogium was pronounced upon his important services by the lord-keeper as he entered the house of lords. The queen was not only pleased with these marks of respect shewn him, but also ordered the comptroller of her works to build in Woodstock park a magnificent palace for the duke, which remains to this day a monument, as the best judges now begin to think, not less of his victories, than of the skill of the architect who raised it.
In the mean time, the arms of England were not less fortunate by sea, than they had been upon the Danube. The ministry of England understanding that the French were employed in equipping a strong squadron in Brest, sent out Sir Cloudesly Shovel, and Sir George Rooke to watch their motions. Sir George, however, had farther orders to convoy a body of forces in transport-ships to Barcelona, upon which a fruitless attack was made by the prince of Hesse. Finding no hopes, therefore, from this expedition, in two days after the troops were reimbarked, Sir George Rooke, joined by Sir Cloudesly, called a council of war on board the fleet, as they lay off the coast of Africa. In this they resolved to make an attempt upon Gibraltar, a city then belonging to the Spaniards, at that time ill provided with a garrison, as neither expecting, nor fearing such an attempt.
The town of Gibraltar stands upon a tongue of land, as the mariners call it, and defended by a rock inaccessible on every side but one. The prince of Hesse landed his troops, to the number of eighteen hundred, on the continent adjoining, and summoned the town to surrender, but without effect. Next day the admiral gave orders for cannonading the town; and perceiving that the enemy were driven from their fortifications at a place called the South Mole-head, ordered captain Whitaker to arm all the boats, and assault that quarter. Those officers who happened to be nearest the mole, immediately manned their boats without orders, and entered the fortification sword in hand. But they were premature; for the Spaniards sprung a mine by which two lieutenants, and about an hundred men were killed and wounded. Nevertheless, the two captains, Hicks and Jumper, took possession of a platform, and kept their ground, until they were sustained by captain Whitaker, and the rest of the seamen, who took a redoubt between the mole and the town by storm. Then the governor capitulated, and the prince of Hesse entered the place, amazed at the success of the attempt, considering the strength of the fortifications. When the news of this conquest was brought to England, it was for some time in debate whether it was a capture worth thanking the admiral for. It was at last considered as unworthy public gratitude; and while the duke of Marlborough was extolled for useless services, Sir George Rooke was left to neglect, and soon displaced from his command, for having so essentially served his country. A striking instance that, even in the most enlightened age, popular applause is most usually misplaced. Gibraltar has ever since remained in the possession of the English, and continues of the utmost use in refitting that part of the navy destined to annoy an enemy, or protect our trade in the Mediterranean. Here the English have a repository capable of containing all things necessary for the repairing of fleets, or the equipment of armies.
Soon after the taking this important garrison, the English fleet, now become sovereign of the seas, to the number of three and fifty ships of the line, came up with a French fleet, to the number of fifty-two, commanded by the count de Thoulouse, off the coast of Malaga. This was the last great naval engagement in which the French ventured to face the English upon equal terms; all their efforts since being calculated rather for escape than opposition. A little after ten in the morning the battle began with equal fury on both sides, and continued to rage with doubtful success till two in the afternoon, when the van of the French gave way. For two successive days the English admiral endeavoured to renew the engagement, which the French fleet as cautiously declined, and at last disappeared totally. Both nations attempted to claim the honour of the victory upon this occasion; the consequence has since decided it in favour of the English, as they still kept the element of battle.
However the taking of Gibraltar was a conquest of which the Spaniards knew the loss, though we seemed ignorant of the value. Philip, king of Spain, alarmed at the reduction of that fortress, sent the marquis of Villadurias with a large army to retake it. France also sent a fleet of thirteen ships of the line; but a part of this was dispersed by a tempest, and part was taken by the English. Nor was the land army more successful. The siege continued for four months, during which time the prince of Hesse, who commanded the town for the English, exhibited many proofs of valour. At length, the Spaniards having attempted to scale the rock in vain, finding no hopes of taking the place, were contented to draw off their men, and abandon the enterprize.
While the English were thus victorious by land and sea, a new scene of contention was opened on the side of Spain, where the ambition of the European princes exerted itself with the same fury that had filled the rest of the continent. Philip, the fourth grandson of Lewis the fourteenth, had been placed upon the throne of that kingdom, and had been received with the joyful concurrence of the greatest part of his subjects. He had also been nominated successor to the crown by the late king of Spain's will. But in a former treaty among the powers of Europe, Charles, son of the emperor of Germany, was appointed heir to that crown; and this treaty had been guarantied by France herself, though she now resolved to reverse that consent in favour of a descendant of the house of Bourbon. Charles was still farther led on to put in for the crown of Spain by the invitation of the Catalonians, who declared in his favour, and by the assistance of the English and Portuguese, who promised to arm in his cause. Upon his way to his newly assumed dominion he landed in England, where he was received on shore by the dukes of Somerset and Marlborough, who conducted him to Windsor. The queen's deportment to him was equally noble and obliging, while, on his side, he gave general satisfaction, by the politeness and affability of his conduct. He was furnished with two hundred transports, thirty ships of war, and nine thousand men, for the conquest of that extensive empire. But the earl of Peterborough, a man of romantic bravery, offered to conduct them; and his single service was thought equivalent to armies.
The earl of Peterborough was one of the most singular and extraordinary men of the age in which he lived. When yet but fifteen he fought against the Moors in Africa; at twenty he assisted in compassing the Revolution, and he now carried on the war in Spain almost at his own expence; his friendship for the duke Charles being one of his chief motives to this great undertaking. He was deformed in his person; but of a mind the most generous, honourable, and active. His first attempt upon landing in Spain was to besiege Barcelona, a strong city, with a garrison of five thousand men, while his own army amounted to little more than nine thousand. The operations were begun by a sudden attack on fort Monjuic, strongly situated on an hill that commanded the city. The outworks were taken by storm; and a shell chancing to fall into the body of the fort, the powder magazine was blown up. This struck the garrison that defended the fort with such consternation, that they surrendered without farther resistance. The town still remained unconquered; but batteries were erected against it, and after a few days the governor capitulated. During the interval, which was taken up in demanding and signing the necessary form upon these occasions, a body of Germans and Catalonians, belonging to the English army, entered the town, and were plundering all before them. The governor, who was then treating with the English general, thought himself betrayed, and upbraided that nobleman's treachery. Peterborough, struck with the suddenness of the transaction, left the writings unfinished, and flying among the plunderers drove them from their prey, and then returned calmly back, and signed the capitulation. The Spaniards were equally amazed at the generosity of the English, and the baseness of their own countrymen, who had led on to the spoil. The conquest of all Valencia succeeded the taking of this important place. The enemy endeavoured indeed to retake Barcelona; but were repulsed with loss, and the affairs of Philip seemed desperate. The party that acknowleged Charles was every day increasing. He became master of Arragon, Carthagena, and Granada. The way to Madrid, the capital of Spain, lay open to him. The earl of Galway entered that city in triumph, and there proclaimed Charles king of Spain, without any opposition. Such was the beginning of the war, as conducted by the allies in Spain; but its end was more unfortunate and indecisive.
In the mean time the English paid very little regard to these victories; for their whole attention was taken up by the splendour of their victories in Flanders; and the duke of Marlborough took care that they should still have something to wonder at. He had early in the spring opened the campaign, and brought an army of eighty thousand men into the field, which was greater than what he had hitherto been able to muster. But still he expected reinforcements from Denmark and Prussia; and the court of France was resolved to attack him before this junction. Villeroy, who commanded their army, consisting of eighty thousand men, near Tirelemont, had orders to act upon the defensive; but if compelled, to hazard an engagement. The duke on the other hand, had received a slight repulse by the defection of prince Lewis Baden; and he resolved to retrieve his credit by some signal action. Villeroy had drawn up his forces in a strong camp; his right was flanked by the river Mehaigne; his left was posted behind a marsh, and the village of Ramilies lay in the center. Marlborough, who perceived this disposition, drew up his army accordingly. He knew that the left wing of the enemy could not pass the marsh to attack him, but at a great disadvantage; he therefore weakened his troops in that quarter, and thundered on the center with superior numbers. The enemies center was soon obliged to yield in consequence of this attack, and at length gave way on all sides. The horse, abandoning their foot, were so closely pursued, that almost all were cut to pieces. Six thousand men were taken prisoners, and about eight thousand were killed and wounded. This victory was almost as signal as that of Blenheim; Bavaria and Cologne were the fruits of the one, and all Brabant was gained by the other. The French troops were dispirited; the city of Paris was in confusion. Lewis, who had long been flattered with conquest, was now humbled to such a degree, as almost to excite the compassion of his enemies. He entreated for peace, but in vain; the allies carried all before them, and his very capital began to dread the approach of the conquerors. What neither his power, his armies, nor his politics could effect, was brought about by a party in England. The dissension between the Whigs and Tories in England saved France, that was now tottering on the brink of ruin.
CHAP. XL. ANNE. (Continued.)
THE councils of the queen had hitherto been governed by a Whig ministry; for tho' the duke of Marlborough had first started in the Tory interest, he soon joined the opposite faction, as he found them most sincere in their desires to humble the power of France. The Whigs, therefore, still pursued the schemes of the late king; and, impressed with a republican spirit of liberty, strove to humble despotism in every part of Europe. In a government where the reasoning of individuals, retired from power, generally leads those who command, the designs of the ministry must alter, as the people happen to change. The people, in fact, were beginning to change. The queen's personal virtues, her successes, her deference for the clergy, and, in turn, their great veneration for her, began to have a prevailing influence over the whole nation. The people of every rank were not ashamed to defend the most servile tenets, when they tendded to flatter or encrease the power of the sovereign. They argued in favour of strict hereditary succession, divine right, and non-resistance to the regal power. The spirit of Toryism began to prevail; and the Whigs, who had raised the queen into greatness, were the first that were likely to fall by their own success.
The Tories, though joining in vigorous measures against France, were, however, never ardently their enemies; they rather secretly hated the Dutch, as of principles very opposite to their own; and only longed for an opportunity of withdrawing from their friendship. They began to meditate schemes of opposition to the duke of Marlborough. They were taught to regard him as a self-interested man, who sacrificed the real advantages of the nation, in protracting a ruinous war for his own private emolument and glory. They saw their country oppressed with an increasing load of taxes, which, by a continuance of the war, must inevitably become an intolerable burthen. Their secret discontents, therefore, began to spread; and the Tories wanted only a few determined leaders to conduct them in removing the present ministry.
In the mean time, a pause of victory, or rather a succession of losses began to dissipate the conquering phrenzy, which had seized the nation, and incline them to wish for peace. The army under Charles in Spain was then commanded by the lord Galway. This nobleman having received intelligence that the enemy, under the command of the duke of Berwick, was posted near the town of Almanza, he advanced thither to give him battle. The conflict began about two in the afternoon, and the whole front of each army was fully engaged. The center, consisting chiefly of battalions from Great Brittain and Holland, seemed at first victorious; but the Portuguese horse, by whom they were supported, betaking themselves to flight on the first charge, the English troops were flanked and surrounded on every side. In this dreadful emergency they formed themselves into a square, and retired to an eminence, where, being ignorant of the country, and destitute of all supplies, they were obliged to surrender prisoners of war, to the number of ten thousand men. This victory was complete and decisive; and all Spain, except the province of Catalonia, returned to their duty to Philip their native sovereign.
An attempt was made upon Toulon, by the duke of Savoy and prince Eugene by land, and the English fleet by sea, but with as little success as in the former instance. The prince, with a body of thirty thousand men, took possession of the eminences that commanded the city, while the fleet attacked and reduced two forts at the entrance of the mole. But the French king sending an army to the relief of the place, and the duke of Savoy perceiving no hopes of compelling the city to a speedy surrender, he resolved to abandon his enterprize; and having embarked his artillery, he retreated by night without any molestation.
The fleet under Sir Cloudesly Shovel, was still more unfortunate. Having set sail for England, and being in soundings on the twenty-second day of October, about eight at night a violent storm arising, his ship was dashed upon the rocks of Scilly, and every soul on board perished. The like fate befel three ships more, while three or four others were saved with the utmost difficulty. The admiral's body being cast a-shore, was stript and buried in the sand; but this was thought too humble a funeral for so brave a commander, it was dug up again, and interred with proper solemnity in Westminster-Abbey.
Nor were the allies more prosperous on the Upper Rhine in Germany. Marshal Villars, the French general, carried all before him, and was upon the point of restoring the elector of Bavaria. The only hopes of the people, lay in the activity and conduct of the duke of Marlborough, who opened the campaign at Underluch, near Brussels, about the middle of May. But even here they were disappointed, as in all the rest. That general, either really willing to protract the war, or receiving intelligence that the French army was superior in numbers, declined an engagement; and rather endeavoured to secure himself, than annoy the enemy. Thus, after several marchings and counter-marchings, which it would be tedious to relate, both armies retired into winter-quarters, at the latter end of October. The French made preparations for the next campaign with recruited vigour. The duke of Marlborough returned to England, to meet with a reception which he did not at all expect.
Previous to the disgrace of the Whig ministry, whose fall was now hastening, a measure of the greatest importance took place in parliament; a measure that had been wished by many, but thought too difficult for execution. What I mean, is the union between the two kingdoms of England and Scotland; which, though they were governed by one sovereign since the accession of James the first, yet were still ruled by their respective parliaments, and often professed to pursue opposite interests and different designs. An union of both parliaments, was at one time passionately desired by James. King Charles, his son, took some steps to effect this measure; but many apparently insurmountable objections lay in the way. This great task was reserved for queen Anne to accomplish, at a time when both nations were in good humour at their late successes; and the queen's title and administration were admitted and approved by all.
The attempt for an union, was begun at the commencement of this reign; but some disputes arising relative to the trade to the East, the conference was broke up, and it was thought that an adjustment would be impossible. It was revived by an act in either parliament, granting power to commissioners named on the part of both nations, to treat on the preliminary articles of an union, which should afterwards undergo a more thorough discussion by the legislative body of both kingdoms. The choice of these commissioners was left to the queen; and she took care that none should be employed, but such as heartily wished to promote so desirable a measure.
Accordingly, the queen having appointed commissioners on both sides, they met in the council-chamber of the Cock-pit, near Whitehall, which was the place appointed for their conferences. Their commissions being opened, and introductory speeches being pronounced by the lord keeper of England, and the lord chancellor of Scotland, the conference began. The Scotch commissioners were inclined to a foederal union, like that of the United Provinces; but the English were bent upon an incorporation, so that no Scottish parliament should ever have power to repeal the articles of the treaty. The lord keeper Cowper, proposed that the two kingdoms of England and Scotland, should be for ever united into one, by the name of Great Britain; that it should be represented by one and the same parliament, and governed by the same hereditary monarch. The Scotch commissioners on their side, insisted that the subjects of Scotland, should for ever enjoy the same rights and privileges with those of England; and that all statutes, contrary to the tenor of these privileges in either kingdom, should be repealed. As the queen frequently exhorted the commissioners to dispatch, the articles of this famous union were soon agreed to, and signed by the commissioners; and it only remained to lay them before the parliaments of both nations.
In this famous treaty it was stipulated, that the succession to the united kingdoms should be vested in the house of Hanover; that the united kingdoms should be represented by one and the same parliament; that all the subjects of Great Britain should enjoy a communication of privileges and advantages; that they should have the same allowances and privileges with respect to commerce and customs; that the laws concerning public right, civil government and policy, should be the same throughout the two united kingdoms; but that no alteration should be made in laws which concerned private right, except for the evident benefit of the subjects of Scotland; that the courts of Session, and all other courts of judicature in Scotland, should remain, as then constituted by the laws of that kingdom, with the same authority and privileges as before the union; that Scotland should be represented in the parliament of Great Britain, by sixteen peers, and forty-five commoners, to be elected in such a manner, as should be settled by the present parliament of Scotland; that all peers of Scotland should be considered as peers of Great Britain, and rank immediately after the English peers of the like degrees at the time of the union, and before such as should be created after it; that they should enjoy all the privileges of English peers, except that of sitting and voting in parliament, or sitting upon the trial of peers; that all the insignia of royalty and government should remain as they were; that all laws and statutes in either kingdom, so far as they might be inconsistent with the terms of these articles, should cease, and be declared void by the respective parliaments of the two kingdoms. These were the principal articles of the union; and it only remained to obtain the sanction of the legislature of both kingdoms to give them authority; but this was a much more difficult undertaking than it was first imagined to be. It was not only to be approved by the parliament of Scotland, all the popular members of which were averse to the union, but it was also to pass through both houses in England, where it was not a little disagreeable, except to the ministry, who had proposed it.
The arguments in these different assemblies were suited to the audience. To induce the Scotch parliament to come into the measure, it was alledged by the ministry, and their supporters, that an entire and perfect union would be the solid foundation of a lasting peace. It would secure their religion, liberty and property, remove the animosities that prevailed among themselves, and the jealousies that subsisted between the two nations. It would encrease their strength, riches, and commerce, the whole island would be joined in affection, and freed from all apprehensions of different interests. It would be enabled to resist all its enemies, support the protestant interest, and maintain the liberties of Europe. It was observed, that the less the wheels of government were clogged by a multiplicity of councils, the more vigorous would be their exertions. They were shewn that the taxes which, in consequence of this union, they were to pay, were by no means so great proportionably, as their share in the legislature. That their taxes did not amount to a seventieth part of those supplied by the English; and yet their share in the legislature was not a tenth part less. Such were the arguments in favour of the union, addressed to the Scotch parliament. In the English houses it was observed, that a powerful and dangerous nation would thus for ever be prevented from giving them any disturbance. That in case of any future rupture, England had every thing to lose, and nothing to gain, against a nation that was courageous and poor.
On the other hand, the Scotch were fired with indignation at the thoughts of losing their ancient and independent government. The nobility found themselves degraded in point of dignity and influence, by being excluded from their seats in parliament. The trading part of the nation beheld their commerce loaded with heavy duties, and considered their new privilege of trading to the English plantations in the West Indies, as a very uncertain advantage. In the English houses also it was observed, that the union of a rich with a poor nation would be always beneficial to the latter, and that the former could only hope for a participation of their necessities. It was said that the Scotch reluctantly yielded to this coalition, and that it might be likened to a marriage with a woman against her consent. It was supposed to be an union made up of so many unmatched pieces, and such incongruous ingredients, that it could never take affect. It was complained, that the proportion of the land-tax paid by the Scotch, was small and unequal to their share in the legislature.
To these arguments in both nations, beside the shew of a particular answer to each, one great argument was used, which preponderated against all the lesser ones. It was observed, that all inconveniences were to be overlooked in the attainment of one great solid advantage; that of acting with an uniformity of councils for the benefit of a community naturally united. The party, therefore, for the union prevailed; and this measure was carried in both nations, through all the obstacles of pretending patriotism and private interest; from which we may learn, that many great difficulties are surmounted, because they are not seen by those who direct the operation; and that schemes, which theory deems impracticable, will often succeed in experiment.
Thus, notwithstanding all opposition made by the Tories, every article of the union was approved by a great majority in the house of lords, which, being sent to be ratified by the house of commons, Sir Simon Harcourt, the sollicitor, prepared the bill in such an artful manner as to prevent all debates. All the articles as they passed in Scotland were recited by way of preamble; and in the conclusion there was one clause, by which the whole was ratified, and enacted into a law. By this contrivance, those who were desirous of starting new difficulties found themselves disabled from pursuing their aim; they could not object to the recital, which was barely a matter of fact; and they had not strength sufficient to oppose all the articles at once, which had before passed with the approbation of the majority. It passed in the house of commons by a majority of one hundred and fourteen; it made its way through the house of lords a second time with equal ease, and when it received the royal sanction, the queen expressed the utmost satisfaction.
CHAP. XLI. ANNE. (Continued.)
IT is a little extraordinary that, through all the transactions relative to the union, the Tories violently opposed it; for they considered the Scotch, in a body, as Whigs, and supposed that their interest would become more powerful by this association. But never were men more agreeably disappointed than the Tories were in this particular. The majority of the Scotch nation, which was entirely against uniting with England, were so much dissatisfied with this measure, that they immediately joined in opposing the ministry, by whom they were thus compelled to unite. The members themselves were disaffected to the measure, and secretly strove to undermine those by whom their power had been thus established.
The body of English Tories were not less displeased with an union, of which they had not sagacity to distinguish the advantages. They were for some time become the majority in the kingdom, but found themselves opposed by a powerful coalition at court. The dutchess of Marlborough, had long been in possession of the queen's confidence and favour; and turned the easiness of her mistress's temper to her own advantage, as well as that of her party. The duke of Marlborough, her husband, was at the head of the army that was devoted to him. Lord Godolphin, his son-in-law, was at the head of the treasury, which he managed so as entirely to co-operate with the ambition of the duke. But an unexpected alteration in the queen's affections was going to take place, which was entirely owing to their own mismanagement. Among the number of those whom the dutchess had introduced to the queen, to contribute to her private amusement, was one Mrs. Masham, her own kinswoman, whom she had raised from indigence and obscurity. The dutchess having gained the ascendant over the queen, became petulant, and insolent, and relaxed in those arts by which she had risen. Mrs. Masham, who had her fortune to make, was more humble and assiduous; she flattered the foibles of the queen, and assented to her prepossessions and prejudices. She soon saw the queen's inclination to the Tory set of opinions, their divine right and passive obedience; and instead of attempting to thwart her as the dutchess had done, she joined in with her partiality, and even outwent her in her own way.
She began to insinuate to the queen, that the Tories were by far the majority of the people. That they were displeased with a ministry that attempted to rule their sovereign, and had lavished the treasures of the nation on wars, which they chose to carry on in order to continue in power. But though this intriguing woman seemed to act from herself alone, she was in fact the tool of Mr. Harley, secretary of state, who also some time before had insinuated himself into the queen's good graces; and who determined to sap the credit of Godolphin and Marlborough. His aim was to unite the Tory interest under his own shelter, and to expel the Whigs from the advantages which they had long enjoyed under government. Harley, better known afterwards by the title of lord Oxford, was a man possessed of uncommon erudition, great knowledge of business, and as great ambition. He was close, phlegmatic, and cool; but at the same time fonder of the splendors of office than the drudgeries of it.
In his career of ambition, he chose for his coadjutor Henry St. John, afterwards the famous lord Bolingbroke, a man of great eloquence and greater ambition, enterprising, restless, active, and haughty, with some wit and little principle. This statesman was at first contented to act in an inferior capacity, subservient to Oxford's designs. It was not till afterwards, when he understood the full extent of his own parts and influence, that he was fired with the ambition of being first in the state, and aspired to depress his first promoter.
To this junto was added Sir Simon Harcourt, a lawyer, a man of great abilities. These uniting, exerted their endeavours to rally and reconcile the scattered body of the Tories; and diffused assurances among their partizans, that the queen would no longer bear the tyranny of a Whig ministry. She had ever been, they said, a friend in her heart to the Tory and high-church party, by which appellation this faction now chose to be distinguished; and to convince them of the truth of their assertions, the queen herself shortly after bestowed two bishopricks on clergymen, who had openly condemned the Revolution.
It was now perceived that the people themselves began to be weary of the Whig ministry, whom they formerly caressed. To them they imputed the burthens under which they groaned, burthens which they had been hitherto animated to bear by the pomp of triumph; but the load of which they felt in a pause of success. No new advantage had of late been shewn them from the Netherlands. France, instead of sinking under the weight of the confederacy, as they had been taught to expect, seemed to rise with fresh vigour from every overthrow. The English merchants had lately sustained repeated losses, for want of proper convoys; the coin of the nation was visibly diminished, and the public credit began to decline.
The ministry were for a long time ignorant of these secret murmurings, or, secure in their own strength, pretended to despise them. Instead, therefore, of attempting to mitigate the censures propagated against them, or to soften the virulence of the faction, they continued to teize the queen with remonstrances against her conduct; and upbraided her with ingratitude for those services which had secured her glory. The murmurs of the nation, first found vent in the house of lords, where the earl of Wharton, seconded by lord Somers, expatiated upon the scarcity of money, the decay of trade, and the mismanagement of the navy. This complaint was backed by a petition from the sheriffs and merchants of the city, aggravating their losses by sea for want of convoys, and these complaints were proved by witnesses. It began now to be urged, that attacking France in the Netherlands, was taking the bull by the horns; attempting the enemy where it was best prepared for a defence. Oxford was at the bottom of all these complaints; and though they did not produce an immediate effect, yet they did not fail of a growing and steady operation.
At length the Whig part of the ministry opened their eyes to the intrigues of their pretending coadjutor. The dutchess of Marlborough perceived, when it was too late, that she was supplanted by her insidious rival; and her husband found no other means of re-establishing his credit, but by openly opposing Oxford, whom he could not otherwise displace. The secretary had lately incurred some suspicions, from the secret correspondence which one Gregg, an under-clerk in his office, kept up with the court of France. Gregg was executed, and the duke of Marlborough was willing to take advantage of this opportunity to remove Oxford. He accordingly wrote to the queen, that he and lord Godolphin could serve her no longer, should the present secretary be continued in his place. The queen, no way regarding the secret intrigues of her ministers, was willing to keep them all in friendship, and endeavoured to appease the duke's resentment by every art of persuasion. But he was too confident of his own power, and continued obstinate in his refusal. The earl of Godolphin and the duke went so far as to retire from court, and the queen saw herself in danger of being deserted by her whole ministry. A sullen silence prevailed through the cabinet-council; and some were even heard to say, that no deliberations could be pursued in the absence of the duke and the lord treasurer.
The queen now, for the first time, perceived the power which these two ministers had assumed over her councils. She found that they were willing to place and displace the servants of the crown at pleasure; and that nothing was left to her, but to approve such measures as they thought fit to press upon her choice. She secretly, therefore, resolved to remove a ministry that was thus grown odious to her, but in the present exigence was obliged to give way to their demands. Next day, therefore, she sent for the duke of Marlborough, and told him that Harley should immediately resign his office; and it was accordingly conferred on Mr. Henry Boyle, chancellor of the exchequer.
The first efforts of the Tory party being thus frustrated, Bolingbroke was resolved to share in his friend Harley's disgrace, as also Sir Simon Harcourt, attorney-general, and Sir Thomas Mansell, comptroller of the houshold, who all voluntarily relinquished their employments. Bolingbroke's employment of secretary at war was conferred upon Robert Walpole, a man who how began to be considerable in the house of commons, and who afterwards made such a figure in the two succeeding reigns.
The duke seemed to triumph in the success of his resentment, not considering that by this step he entirely lost the confidence of the queen. He returned to prosecute his victories on the continent, where a new harvest of glory attended him, which, however, did not re-establish his power.
This violent measure, which seemed at first favourable to the Whig ministry, laid the foundation of its ruin. Harley was now enabled to throw off the mask of friendship, and to take more vigorous measures for the prosecution of his designs. In him the queen reposed all her trust, though he now had no visible concern in the administration. The first triumph of the Tories, in which the queen discovered a public partiality in their favour, was seen in a transaction of no great importance in itself, but from the consequences it produced. The parties of the nation were eager to engage, and they wanted but the watch-word to begin. This was given by a man neither of abilities, property, or power; but accidentally brought forward on this occasion.
Henry Sacheverel was a clergyman bred at Oxford, of narrow intellects, and an overheated imagination. He had acquired some popularity among those who distinguished themselves by the name of high-church men, and had taken all occasions to vent his animosity against the dissenters. At the summer assizes at Derby he had held forth in that strain before the judges. On the fifth of November, in St. Paul's church, he, in a violent declamation, defended the doctrine of non-resistance, inveighed against the toleration of dissenters, declared the church was dangerously attacked by its enemies, and slightly defended by its false friends. He sounded the trumpet for the zealous, and exhorted the people to put on the whole armour of God. Sir Samuel Gerrard, lord-mayor, countenanced this harangue, which, though very weak both in the matter and style, was published under his protection, and extolled by the Tories as a master-piece of writing. These sermons owed all their celebrity to the complexion of the times, and they are now deservedly neglected.
Mr. Dolben, son to the archbishop of York, laid a complaint before the house of commons against these rhapsodies, and thus gave force to what would have soon been forgotten. The most violent paragraphs were read, and the sermons voted scandalous and seditious libels. Sacheverel was brought to the bar of the house, and he, far from disowning the writing of them, gloried in what he had done, and mentioned the encouragement he had received to publish them from the lord-mayor, who was then present. Being ordered to withdraw, it was resolved to impeach him of high crimes and misdemeanors at the bar of the house of lords; and Mr. Dolben was fixed upon to conduct the prosecution, in the name of the commons of all England. A committee was appointed to draw up articles of impeachment; Sacheverel was taken into custody, and a day was appointed for his trial before the lords in Westminster-hall.
Meanwhile the Tories, who one and all approved his principles, were as violent in his defence, as the commons had been in his prosecution. They boldly affirmed that the Whigs had formed a design to pull down the church, and that this prosecution was intended to try their strength, before they would proceed openly to the execution of their project. The clergy did not fail to alarm and enflame their hearers; while emissaries were employed to raise a ferment among the populace, already prepared for discontent, arising from a scarcity, of provisions which at that time prevailed in almost every country of Europe. The dangers were magnified to which the church was exposed from dissenters, Whigs, and luke-warm prelates. These they represented as the authors of a ruinous war, that brought on that very dearth which they were then deploring. Such an extensive party, therefore, declaring in favour of Sacheverel, after the articles were exhibited against him, the lords thought fit to admit him to bail.
The eyes of the whole kingdom were turned upon this very extraordinary trial, which lasted three weeks, and excluded all other public business for the time. The queen herself was every day present as a private spectator, while vast multitudes attended the culprit each day as he went to the hall, shouting as he passed, or silently praying for his success. The managers for the commons were Sir Joseph Jekyl, Mr. Eyre, sollicitor-general, Sir Peter King, recorder, general Stanhope, Sir Thomas Parker, and Mr. Walpole. The doctor was defended by Sir Simon Harcourt, and Mr. Phipps, and assisted by doctor Atterbury, doctor Smallridge, and doctor Freind. While the trial continued, nothing could exceed the violence and outrage of the populace. They surrounded the queen's sedan, exclaiming,
"God bless your majesty and the church; we hope your majesty is for doctor Sacheverel."
They destroyed several meeting houses, plundered the dwellings of many eminent dissenters, and even proposed to attack the bank. The queen, in compliance with the request of the commons, published a proclamation for suppressing the tumults; and several persons being apprehended were tried for high-treason. Two were convicted, and sentenced to die; but neither suffered.
When the commons had gone through their charge, the managers for Sacheverel undertook his defence with great art and eloquence. He afterwards recited a speech himself, which, from the difference found between it and his sermons, seems evidently the work of another. In this he solemnly justified his intentions towards the queen and her government. He spoke in the most respectful terms of the Revolution, and the protestant succession. He maintained the doctrine of non-resistance as a tenet of the church, in which he was brought up; and in a pathetic conclusion endeavoured to excite the pity of his audience. He was surrounded by the queen's chaplains, who encouraged and extolled him as the champion of the church; and he was favoured by the queen herself, who could not but approve a doctrine that confirmed her authority, and enlarged her power.
Those who are removed from the interests of that period may be apt to regard with wonder so great a contest from so slight a cause; but, in fact, the spirit of contention was before laid in the nation, and this person only happened to set fire to the train. The lords, when they retired to consult upon his sentence, were divided, and continued undetermined for some time. At length, after much obstinate dispute, and virulent altercation, Sacheverel was found guilty by a majority of seventeen voices; but no less than four and thirty peers entered a protest against this decision. He was prohibited from preaching for three years; and his two sermons were ordered to be burned by the hands of the common hangman, in presence of the lord-mayor and the two sheriffs.
The lenity of this sentence, which was, in a great measure, owing to the dread of popular resentment, was considered by the Tories as a triumph. They declared their joy in bonfires and illuminations, and openly avowed their rage against his persecutors. Soon after he was presented to a benefice in North Wales, where he went with all the pomp and magnificence of a sovereign prince. He was sumptuously entertained by the university of Oxford, and many noblemen in his way, who, while they worshipped him as the idol of their faction, could not help despising the object of their adoration. He was received in several towns by the magistrates in their formalities, and often attended by a body of a thousand horse. At Bridgenorth he was met by one Mr. Creswell, at the head of four thousand men on horseback, and as many on foot, wearing white knots, edged with gold. The hedges were for two miles dressed with garlands, and the steeples covered with streamers, flags, and colours. The church, and doctor Sacheverel, was the universal cry, and a spirit of religious enthusiasm spread through the whole nation.
Such was the complexion of the times, when the queen thought proper to summon a new parliament; and being a friend to the Tories herself, she gave the people an opportunity of indulging themselves in chusing representatives to their mind. In fact, very few were returned, but such as had distinguished themselves by their zeal against the Whig administration. The Whigs were no longer able to keep their ground against the voice of the people, and the power of the queen. Tho' they had entrenched themselves behind a very formidable body in the house of lords, and tho' by their wealth and family connexions they had in a manner fixed themselves in office, yet they were now upon the edge of dissolution, and required but a breeze to blow them from their height, where they imagined themselves so secure.
The duke had some time before gone back to Flanders, where he led on the united armies to great, though dear bought, victories. The French were dispirited indeed, and rather kept upon the defensive; but still, when forced to engage, they fought with great obstinacy, and seemed to gather courage, as the frontiers of their own country became more nearly threatened.
Peace had more than once been offered, and treaties had been entered upon, and frustrated. After the battle of Ramilies, the king of France had employed the elector of Bavaria to write letters in his name to the duke of Marlborough, containing proposals for opening a congress. He offered to give up either Spain and its dominions, or the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily to Charles of Austria, and to give a barrier to the Dutch in the Netherlands. But these terms were rejected. The Dutch were intoxicated with success; and the duke of Marlborough had every motive to continue the war, as it gratified not only his ambition, but his avarice; a passion that obscured his shining abilities.
The duke, in fact, was resolved to push his good fortune. At the head of a numerous army he came up to the village of Oudenarde, where the French, in equal numbers, were posted. A furious engagement ensued, in which the French were obliged to retire, and took the advantage of the night to secure their retreat. About three thousand were slain on the field of battle, seven thousand were taken prisoners, and the number of their deserters was not a few. In consequence of this victory, Lisle, the strongest town in all Flanders, was taken, after an obstinate siege. Ghent followed soon after; while Bruges, and the other lesser towns in French Flanders, were abandoned by their defenders. Thus this campaign ended with fixing a barrier to the Dutch dominions, and it now only remained to force a way into the provinces of the enemy.
The repeated successes of the allies once more induced the French king to offer terms of peace. In these he was resolved to sacrifice all considerations of pride and ambition, as well as the interests of his grandson of Spain, to a measure become so necessary and indispensible. A conference ensued, in which the allies rose in their demands, without, however, stipulating any thing in favour of the English. The demands were rejected by France, and that exhausted kingdom once more prepared for another campaign.
Tournay, one of the strongest cities in French Flanders, was the first object of the operations of the allied army, which now amounted to one hundred and ten thousand fighting men. Though the garrison of this city did not exceed twelve thousand men, yet the place was so strong both by art and nature, that the siege promised to hold out much longer than was expected. Nothing could be more terrible than the manner of engaging during this siege. As the besiegers proceeded by sapping, their troops that were conducting the mines frequently met with those of the enemy under ground, and furiously engaged in subterraneous conflicts. The volunteers presented themselves on both sides in the midst of mines and countermines, ready primed for explosion, and added new horrors to their gloomy situation. Sometimes they were killed by accident, sometimes sprung up by design; while thousands of those bold men were thus buried at once by the falling in of the earth, or blown up into the air from below. At length, after an obstinate resistance, the town was surrendered upon conditions, and the garrison of the citadel soon after were made prisoners of war.
The bloody battle of Malplaquet followed soon after. The French army, under the conduct of the great marshal Villars, amounting to an hundred and twenty thousand men, were posted behind the woods of La Merte and Taniers, in the neighbourhood of Malplaquet. They had fortified their situation in such a manner with lines, hedges, and trees laid across, that they seemed to be quite inaccessible What were the duke's motives for attacking them at such a disadvantage to himself are not well known; but certainly this was the rashest and most ill-judged attempt during all his campaigns. On the eleventh day of September, early in the morning, the allied army, favoured by a thick fog, began the attack. The chief fury of their impression was made upon the left of the enemy, and with such success, that, notwithstanding their lines and barricadoes, the French were in less than an hour driven from their intrenchments. But on the enemies right the combat was sustained with much greater obstinacy. The Dutch, who carried on the attack, drove them from their first line; but were repulsed from the second with great slaughter. The prince of Orange, who headed that attack, persisted in his efforts with incredible perseverance and intrepidity, though two horses had been killed under him, and the greater part of his officers slain and disabled. At last, however, the French were obliged to yield up the field of battle; but not till after having sold a dear victory. Villars being dangerously wounded, they made an excellent retreat under the conduct of Boufflers, and took post near Guesnoy and Valenciennes. The conquerors took possession of the field of battle, on which above twenty thousand of their best troops lay slain. The marshal Villars confidently asserted, that if he had not been disabled, he would have gained a certain victory; and it is probable from that general's former successes, that what he said was true. The city of Mons was the reward of this victory, which surrendered shortly after to the allied army, and with the taking of this the allies concluded the campaign.
Though the events of this campaign were more favourable to Lewis than he had reason to expect, yet he still continued desirous of peace, and once more resolved to sollicit a conference. He employed one Petkum, resident of the duke of Holstein at the Hague, to negotiate upon this subject, and he ventured also to sollicit the duke himself in private. However, as his affairs now were less desperate than in the beginning of the campaign, he would not stand to those conditions, which he then offered as preliminaries to a conference. The Dutch inveighed against his insincerity for thus retracting his former offers; not considering that he certainly had a right to retract those offers, which they formerly had rejected. They still had reasons for protracting the war, and the duke took care to confirm them in this resolution. Nevertheless, the French king seeing the misery of his people daily encrease, and all his resources fail, continued to humble himself before the allies; and by means of Petkum, who still corresponded from the Hague with his ministers, implored the Dutch that the negociation might be resumed. A conference was at length begun at Gertruydenburgh, under the influence of Marlborough, Eugene, and Zinzendorff, who were all three, from private motives, entirely averse to the treaty. Upon this occasion, the French ministers were subjected to every species of mortification. Spies were placed upon all their conduct. Their master was insulted, and their letters were opened. The Dutch deputies would hear of no relaxation, and no expedient for removing the difficulties that retarded the negociation. The French commissioners offered to satisfy every complaint that had given rise to the war. They consented to abandon Philip of Spain; they agreed to grant the Dutch a large barrier; they even were willing to grant a supply towards the dethroning of Philip; but all their offers were treated with contempt. They were, therefore, compelled to return home, after having sent a letter to the states, in which they declared that the proposals made by their deputies were unjust and impracticable, and complained of the unworthy treatment they received. Lewis resolved to hazard another campaign, not without hope that some lucky incident in the event of war, or some happy change in the ministry of England, might procure him more favourable concessions.
But though the duke by this means protracted his power on the continent, all his influence at home was at an end. The members of the house of commons, that had been elected just after Sacheverel's trial, were almost universally Tories. From all parts of the kingdom addresses were sent and presented to the queen, confirming the doctrine of non-resistance; and the queen did not scruple to receive them with some pleasure. But when the conferences were ended at Gertruydenburgh, the designs of the Dutch and English commanders were too obvious not to be perceived. The writers of the Tory faction, who were men of the first rank in literary merit, and who still more chimed in with the popular opinion, displayed the avarice of the duke, and the self-interested conduct of the Dutch. They pretended, that while England was exhausting her strength in foreign conquests for the benefit of other nations, she was losing her liberty at home. They asserted that her ministers were not contented with sharing the plunder of an unpoverished state, but, by controlling their queen, were resolved to seize upon its liberties also.
A part of these complaints was true, and a part exaggerated; but the real crime of the ministry, in the queen's eye, was their pride, their combinations, and their encreasing power. The insolence of the dutchess of Marlborough, who had hitherto possessed more power than the whole privy-council united, was now become insupportable to her. The queen had entirely withdrawn her confidence from her; and she was resolved to seize the first opportunity of shewing her resentment, and such an opportunity was not long wanting.
Upon the death of the earl of Essex, who was colonel of a regiment under the duke, the queen resolved to bestow it on a person she knew was entirely displeasing to him. She therefore sent him word, that she wished he would give it to Mr. Hill, brother to her favourite Mrs. Masham, as a person every way qualified for the command. The duke was struck with this request, which he considered as a previous step to his own disgrace. He represented to the queen the prejudice that would redound to the service from the promotion of so young an officer, and the jealousy that would be felt by his seniors, never considering that he himself was a younger officer than many of those he commanded. He expostulated with her on this extraordinary mark of partiality in favour of Mrs. Masham's brother, who had treated him with such peculiar ingratitude. To all this the queen made no other reply, but that he would do well to consult his friends. He retired in disgust, and sat down to prepare a letter to the queen, in which he begged leave to resign all his employments.
In the mean time the queen, who was conscious of the popularity of her conduct, went to the council, where she seemed not to take the least notice of the duke's absence. The whole junto of his friends, which almost entirely composed the council, did not fail to alarm her with the consequences of disobliging so useful a servant. She, therefore, for some time dissembled her resentment; and even went so far as to send the duke a letter, empowering him to dispose of the regiment as he thought proper. But still she was too sensibly mortified at many parts of his conduct, not to wish for his removal; but she for the present insisted on his continuing in command.
She acted with less duplicity towards the dutchess, who, supposing from the queen's present condescension, that she was willing to be pacified, resolved once more to practise the long-forgotten arts by which she rose. She, therefore, demanded an audience of her majesty, on pretence of vindicating her character from some aspersions. She hoped to work upon the queen's tenderness, by tears, entreaties, and supplications. But all her humiliations, served only to render her more contemptible to herself. The queen heard her without exhibiting the least emotions of tenderness or pity. The only answer she gave to the torrent of the other's entreaties, was a repetition of an insolent expression used in one of this lady's own letters to her.
"You desired no answer, and you shall have none."
It was only by insensible degrees, that the queen seemed to acquire courage enough to second her inclinations, and depose a ministry that had long been disagreeable to her. Harley, however, who still shared her confidence, did not fail to inculcate the popularity, the justice, and the security of such a measure; and in consequence of his advice, she began the changes, by transferring the post of lord chamberlain from the duke of Kent to the duke of Shrewsbury, who had lately voted with the Tories, and maintained an intimate correspondence with Mr. Harley. Soon after the earl of Sunderland, secretary of state, and son-in-law to the duke of Marlborough, was displaced, and the earl of Dartmouth put in his room. Finding that she was rather applauded than condemned for this resolute proceeding, she resolved to become entirely free.
In these resolutions she was strengthened by the duke of Beaufort, who coming to court on this occasion, informed her majesty that he came once more to pay his duty to the
Queen.
The whole Whig party were in consternation; they influenced the directors of the bank, so far as to assure her majesty that public credit would be entirely ruined by this change in the ministry. The Dutch moved Heaven and earth with memorials and threats, should a change take place. However, the queen went forward in her designs: soon after the earl of Godolphin was divested of his office, and the treasury put in commission, subjected to the direction of Harley, who was appointed chancellor of the exchequer, and under-treasurer. The earl of Rochester was declared president of the council, in the room of lord Somers. The staff of lord steward being taken from the duke of Devonshire, was given to the duke of Buckingham; and Mr. Boyle was removed from the secretary's office, to make way for Mr. Henry St. John. The lord chancellor having resigned the great seal, it was first put in commission, and then given to Sir Simon Harcourt. The earl of Wharton surrendered his commission of lord lieutenant of Ireland; and that employment was conferred upon the duke of Ormond. Mr. George Granville was appointed secretary of war, in the room of Mr. Robert Walpole; and in a word, there was not one Whig left in any office of the state, except the duke of Marlborough. He was still continued the reluctant general of the army; but he justly considered himself as a ruin entirely undermined, and just ready to fall.
But the triumph was not yet complete, until the parliament was brought to confirm and approve the queen's choice. The queen, in her speech, recommended the prosecution of the war with vigour. The parliament were ardent in their expressions of zeal and unanimity. They exhorted her to discountenance all such principles and measures, as had lately threatened her royal crown and dignity. This was but an opening to what soon after followed. The duke of Marlborough, who but a few months before had been so highly extolled and caressed by the representatives of the people, was now become the object of their hatred and reproach. His avarice was justly upbraided; his protracting the war was said to arise from that motive. Instances were every where given of his fraud and extortion. These might be true, but party had no moderation, and even his courage and conduct were called in question. To mortify the duke still more, the thanks of the house of commons were voted to the earl of Peterborough for his services in Spain, when they were refused to the duke for those in Flanders; and the lord keeper, who delivered them to Peterborough, took occasion to drop some reflections against the mercenary disposition of his rival.
In this ebullition of party resentment, Harley, who first raised the ferment, still kept the appearance of moderation; and even became suspected by his more violent associates as a lukewarm friend to the cause. An accident encreased his confidence with his own party, and fixed him for a time securely in the queen's favour. One Guiscard, a French officer, who had made some useful informations relative to the affairs of France, thought himself ill rewarded for his services to the crown by a precarious pension of four hundred pounds a-year. He had often endeavoured to get to the speech of the queen, but was still repulsed, either by Harley or St. John. Enraged at these disappointments, he attempted to make his peace with the court of France, and offered his services in a letter to one Moreau, a banker in Paris. His letters, however, were intercepted, and a warrant issued out to apprehend him for high treason. Conscious of his guilt, and knowing that the charge could be proved against him, he did not decline his fate, but resolved to sweeten his death by vengeance. Being conveyed before the council, convened at a place called the Cock-pit, he perceived a penknife lying upon the table, and took it up, without being observed by any of the attendants. When questioned before the members of the council, he endeavoured to evade his examination, and entreated to speak with Mr. secretary St. John in private. His request, however, being refused, he said,
"That's hard! not one word!"
Upon which, as St. John was out of reach, he stept up to Mr. Harley, and crying out,
"Have at
thee
then!"
he stabbed him in the breast with the penknife which he had concealed. The blade of the knife broke upon the rib, without entering the cavity of the breast; nevertheless he repeated the blow with such violence that Harley fell to the ground. St. John perceiving what had happened, instantly drew his sword, and several others following his example, Guiscard was wounded in several places. He still, however, continued to strike and defend himself, till at last he was overpowered by the messengers and servants, and conveyed from the council-chamber, which he had filled with terror and confusion. His wounds, though dangerous, were not mortal; but he died of a gangrene, occasioned by the bruises which he had sustained. This unsuccessful attempt, still more served to establish the credit of Harley; and as he appeared the enemy of France, no doubt was made but that he must be the friend of England.
This accident served to demonstrate the political rectitude of the ministry, with respect to the state. A bill which they brought in, and passed through both houses, served to assure the nation of their fidelity to the church. This was an act for building fifty new churches in the city and suburbs of London, and a duty on coals was appropriated for this purpose.
Nothing now, therefore, remained of the Whig system, upon which this reign was begun, but the war which continued to rage as fierce as ever, and which encreased in expence every year as it went on. It was the resolution of the present ministry to put an end to it at any rate, as it had involved the nation in debt almost to bankruptcy; and as it promised, instead of humbling the enemy, only to become habitual to the constitution. However, it was a very delicate point for the ministry at present, to stem the tide of popular prejudice in favour of its continuance. The nation had been intoxicated with a childish idea of military glory; and panted for triumphs, which they neither saw nor felt the benefit of. The pleasure of talking at their entertainments and meetings of their distant conquests, and of extolling the bravery of their acquaintance, was all the return they were likely to receive for a diminished people, and an exhausted exchequer. The first doubts, therefore, of the expedience of continuing the war, were introduced into the house of commons. The members made a remonstrance to the queen, in which they complained loudly of the former administration. They said, that in tracing the causes of the national debt, they had discovered great frauds and embezzlements of the public money. They affirmed, that irreparable mischief would have ensued, in case the former ministers had been continued in office; and they thanked the queen for their dismission.
Having thus prepared the nation, it only now remained to remove the duke of Marlborough from his post, as he would endeavour to traverse all their negotiations. But here again a difficulty started, this step could not be taken without giving offence to the Dutch, who placed entire confidence in him; they were obliged, therefore, to wait for some convenient occasion. But in the mean time, the duke headed his army in Flanders, and led on his forces against marshal Villars, who seemed resolved to hazard a battle. His last attempt in the field, is said, by those who understand the art of war, to have excelled every former exploit. He contrived his measures so, that he induced the enemy, by marching and countermarching, to quit a strong line of intrenchments without striking a blow, which he came and unexpectedly took possession of. The capture of Bouchain followed this enterprize, which capitulated after a siege of twenty days; and this was the last military expedition that the duke of Marlborough ever performed. And now, by a continuance of conduct and success, by ever advancing, and never losing an advantage, by gaining the enemies posts without fighting, and the confidence of his own soldiers without generosity, the duke of Marlborough ended his campaigns, by leaving the allies in possession of a vast tract of country. They had reduced, under their command, Spanish Guelderland, Limbourg, Brabant, Flanders, and Hainault; they were masters of the Scarpe, and the capture of Bouchain had opened them a way into the very bowels of France. Upon his return from this campaign, he was accused of having taken a bribe of six thousand pounds a-year from a Jew, who contracted to supply the army with bread; and the queen thought proper to dismiss him from all his employments.
This was the pretext made use of, though his fall had been predetermined; and though his receiving such a bribe was not the real cause of his removal, yet candour must confess that it ought to have been so. The desire of accumulating money, was a passion that attended this general in all his triumphs; and by this he threw a stain upon his character, which all his great abilities have not been able to remove. He not only received this gratuity, of six thousand a-year, from Medina the Jew, but he was also allowed ten thousand pounds a year from the queen; to this he added a deduction of two and a half per cent. from the pay of the foreign troops maintained by England, and all this over and above his ordinary pay as general of the British forces. Many excuses might have been given for his acceptance of these sums; but a great character ought not to stand in need of any excuse.
CHAP. XLII. ANNE. (Continued.)
WAR seems, in general, more adapted to the temper and the courage of the Whigs than the Tories. The former, restless, active, and ungovernable, seem to delight in the struggle; the latter, submissive, temperate, and weak, more willingly cultivate the arts of peace, and are content in prosperity. Through the course of the English history, France seems to have been the peculiar object of the hatred of the Whigs; and a constitutional war with that country, seems to have been their aim. On the contrary, the Tories have been found to regard that nation with no such opposition of principle; and a peace with France has generally been the result of a Tory administration. For some time, therefore, before the dismission of Marlborough, a negociation for peace had been carried on between the court of France and the new ministry. They had a double aim in bringing this about. It would serve to mortify the Whigs, and it would free their country from a ruinous and unnecessary war.
The motives of every political measure, where faction enters, are partly good, and partly evil. The present ministers were, without doubt, actuated as well by hatred on one hand, as impelled by a love of their country on the other. They hoped to obtain such advantages in point of commerce for the subjects of Great Britain, as would silence all detraction. They were not so very mindful of the interests of the Dutch, as they knew that people to be but too attentive to those interests themselves. In order, therefore, to come as soon as possible to the end in view, the earl of Jersey, who acted in concert with Oxford, sent a private message to the court of France, importing the queen's earnest desire for peace, and her wish for a renewal of the conference. This intimation was delivered by one Gualtier, an obscure priest, who was chaplain to the Imperial ambassador, and a spy for the French court. The message was received with great pleasure at the French court, and an answer was returned, ardently professing the same inclinations. This led the way to a reply, and soon after to a more definitive memorial from the court of France, which was immediately transmitted to the Dutch by the queen, for their approbation.
The states-general having perused the French memorial, assured queen Anne that they were ready to join with her in contributing to the conclusion of a durable peace; but they expressed a desire that the French king would be more explicit in his offers towards settling the repose of Europe. In order to give the Dutch some satisfaction in this particular, a previous conference between the French and English courts took place. Prior, much more famous as a poet than as a statesman, was sent over with proposals to France; and Menager, a man of no great station, returned with Prior to London, with full powers to treat upon the preliminaries. After long and intricate debates, certain preliminary articles were at last agreed on, and signed by the English and French minister, in consequence of a written order from her majesty.
The ministry having got thus far, the great difficulty still lay before them, of making the terms of peace agreeable to all the confederates. The earl of Stafford, who had been lately recalled from the Hague, where he resided as ambassador, was now sent back to Holland, with orders to communicate to the pensionary Heinsius, the preliminary proposals, to signify the queen's approbation of them, and to propose a place where the plenipotentiaries should assemble. The Dutch were very averse to begin the conference, upon the inspection of the preliminaries. They sent over an envoy to attempt to turn the queen from her resolution, but finding their efforts vain, they fixed upon Utrecht as the place of general conference, and they granted passports to the French ministers accordingly.
Many were the methods made use of by the Dutch, as well as by the Germans, to frustrate the negociations of this congress. The emperor wrote circular letters to the princes of the empire, exhorting them to persist in their former engagements. His ambassador in London getting a copy of the preliminary articles, had them inserted in a common news-paper, in order to throw blame upon the ministry, and render their proceedings odious to the people. The Dutch began to complain of perfidy, and laboured to raise a discontent in England against the measures then in speculation. The Whigs in London did not fail to second their efforts with all the arts of clamour, ridicule, and reproach. Pamphlets, libels, and lampoons, were every day published by one faction, and the next were answered by the other. But the confederates took a step from which they hoped success from the greatness of the agent whom they employed. Prince Eugene, who had been long famous for his talents in the cabinet and in the field, was sent over with a letter from the emperor to the queen. But his intrigues and his arts were unable to prevail; he found at court, indeed, a polite reception, such as was due to his merits and his fame; but at the same time such a repulse, as the private proposals he carried seemed to deserve. Still, therefore, measures for the conference were going forward, and the ministry were determined to drive them on to a conclusion.
However, before we mention the result of this great congress, it may be necessary to apprize the reader, that many of the motives which first incited each side to take up arms were now no more. Charles of Austria, for whose cause England had spent so much blood and treasure, was, by the death of his elder brother, the emperor Joseph, placed on the imperial throne. There was, therefore, every reason for not supporting his pretensions to the Spanish monarchy; and the same jealousy which invited him to that kingdom, was necessary to be exerted in keeping him out of it. The elector of Bavaria, who was intimately connected with the French, was now detached from them; and the Dutch, who had trembled for their barrier, were encroaching upon that of the enemy. Thus accident and success gave almost every power, but France and England, all that war could grant; and though they should be crowned with the greatest successes, it was the interest of England that her allies should be reinstated in their rights, but not rendered too powerful.
The conferences began at Utrecht, under the conduct of Robinson, bishop of Bristol, lord privy-seal, and the earl of Stafford, on the side of the English; of Buys and Vanderdussen, on the part of the Dutch; and of the marshal D'Uxelles, the cardinal Polignac, and Mr. Menager, in behalf of France. The ministers of the Emperor and Savoy assisted, and the other allies sent also plenipotentiaries, though with the utmost reluctance. As England and France were the only two powers that were seriously inclined to peace, it may be supposed that all the other deputies served rather to retard than advance its progress. They met rather to start new difficulties, and widen the breach, than to quiet the dissentions of Europe. The emperor insisted obstinately upon his claim to the Spanish monarchy, refusing to give up the least tittle of his pretensions. The Dutch adhered to the old preliminaries, which Lewis had formerly rejected. They practised a thousand little arts to intimidate the queen, to excite a jealousy of Lewis, to blacken the characters of her ministry, and to keep up a dangerous ferment among the people.
The English ministry were sensible of the dangerous and difficult task they had to sustain. The confederates were entirely against them, a violent and desperate party at home, who never let any government rest, except when themselves were in power, opposed; none to second their efforts heartily, but the commons and the queen, whose health was visibly declining. They had, by a bold measure indeed, secured the house of lords on their side, by creating twelve new peers in one day; and this turned the balance, which was yet wavering, in their favour. But in their present situation, therefore, dispatch was greatly requisite. In case of their sovereign's death, they had nothing to expect but prosecution and ruin for obeying her commands, unless there was time given to draw the people from the intoxication of their successes, and until the utility of their measures were found justified by the people's happy experience. Thus the peace was hastened, and this haste relaxed the English ministers severity, in insisting upon such terms and advantages as they had a right to demand.
With these views the English ministers, finding multiplied obstructions from the deliberations of their allies, set on foot a private negotiation with France. They stipulated certain advantages for the subjects of Great Britain in a concerted plan of peace. They resolved to enter into such mutual confidence with the French, as would anticipate all clandestine transactions to the prejudice of the coalition. These articles were privately regulated between the two courts; but being the result of haste and necessity, they were not quite so favourable to the English interests as the sanguine part of the nation were taught to expect.
Mean while the French plenipotentiaries at Utrecht proceeded so far as to deliver their proposals in writing under the name of specific offers, which the confederates treated with indignation and contempt, who, on the other hand, drew up their specific demands, which were considered as highly extravagant by the ministers of France. Conference followed conference; but still the contending parties continued as remote from each other as when they begun. The English, willing to include their allies if possible in the treaty, departed from some of their secret pretensions, in order to gratify the Dutch with the possession of some towns in Flanders. They consented to admit that nation into a participation of some advantages in commerce. The queen, therefore, finding the confederates still obstinately attached to their first preliminaries, she gave them to understand, that as they failed to co-operate with her openly and sincerely, and had made such bad returns for all her condescension towards them, she looked upon herself as released from all engagements.
The first instance of displeasure which was shewn to the confederates, was by an order given to the English army in Flanders not to act upon the offensive. Upon the dismission of the duke of Marlborough, the duke of Ormond had been invested with the supreme command of the British forces; but with particular directions that he should not hazard an engagement. However, he joined prince Eugene at Tournay, who, not being let into the secret, advised the attacking Villars; but he soon found how affairs stood with his coadjutor. Ormond himself seemed extremely uneasy at his situation; and, in a letter to the secretary in England, desired permission to return home. But the confederates were loud in their complaints; they expostulated with the ministers at Utrecht upon so perfidious a conduct; but they were told that letters had been lately received from the queen, in which she complained, that as the states-general had not properly answered her advances, they ought not to be surprised, if she thought herself at liberty to enter into separate measures to obtain a peace for her own advantage.
But the Dutch did not rest here. They had a powerful party in the house of lords, and there they resolved to arraign the conduct of the ministry. Lord Halifax descanted on the ill consequences of the duke of Ormond's refusing to co-operate with prince Eugene, and moved for an address to her majesty to loose the hands of the English general. It was urged that nothing could be more disgraceful to the duke himself than being thus set at the head of an army without a power of acting. But the earl Pawlet replied, that though none could doubt of the duke of Ormond's courage, yet he was not like a certain general, who led troops to the slaughter, in hopes that a great number of officers might be knocked on the head, that he might encrease his treasures by disposing of their commissions. The duke of Marlborough, who was present, was so deeply affected at this malicious insinuation, that he sent the earl a challenge the next day; but the nature of the message coming to the queen's ears, the duke was ordered to proceed no further in the quarrel.
In the mean time the allies, deprived of the assistance of the English, still continued their animosity against the French, and were resolved to continue the war separately. They had the utmost confidence in prince Eugene, their general; and though lessened by the defection of the British forces, they were still superior to those of the enemy commanded by marshal Villars. But the loss of the British forces was soon severely felt by the allied army. Villars attacked a separate body of their troops, encamped at Denain, under the command of the earl of Albemarle. Their intrenchments were forced, and seventeen battalions either destroyed or taken. The earl himself, and all the surviving officers, were made prisoners of war.
These successes of Villars served to hasten the treaty of Utrecht. The great obstacle which retarded that peace which France and England seemed so ardently to desire, was the settling the succession to the kingdoms of France and Spain. The danger that threatened the interests of Europe was, lest both kingdoms should be united under one sovereign; and Philip, who was now king of Spain, stood next in succession to the crown of France, except with the interposition of one child, the present French king, who was then sickly. Philip, however, after many expedients, at last resolved to wave his pretensions to the French monarchy, and the treaty went forward with rapidity and success.
In the beginning of August,
A.D.
1712
secretary St. John, now created lord viscount Bolingbroke, was sent to the court of Versailles to remove all obstructions to the separate treaty. He was accompanied by Mr. Prior, and the abbé Gualtier, and treated with the most distinguished marks of respect. He was caressed by the French king, and the marquis de Torcy, with whom he adjusted the principal interests of the duke of Savoy, and the elector of Bavaria. This negociation being finished in a few days, Bolingbroke returned to England, and Prior remained as resident at the court of France.
In the mean time the articles of the intended treaty were warmly canvassed among all ranks of people in London. A duel, which was fought between the duke of Hamilton and lord Mohun, in which they were both killed, served to exasperate the Whigs and Tories against each other. The subject of the duel is said to have been a law-suit; but as Mohun was considered as bully in favour of the Whigs, the Tories exclaimed against the event as a party duel; and absurdly affirmed that a plot was laid against the duke of Hamilton's life. Mobs now began to be hired by both factions, and the whole city was filled with riot and uproar. In this scene of confusion, the duke of Marlborough hearing himself accused as the secret author of these mischiefs, thought proper to retire to the continent; and his retreat was compared by his party to that of Scipio from Rome, after he had saved his country.
At length, the treaties of peace and commerce between England and France being agreed on by the plenipotentiaries on either side, and ratified by the queen, she acquainted her parliament of the steps she had taken. She informed them of her precautions to secure them the succession of a protestant king; and desired them to consider by her actions whether she ever meant to divide her interests from the house of Hanover. She left it to the commons to determine what forces, and what supplies might be necessary for the safety of the kingdom.
"Make yourselves safe, said she, and I shall be satisfied. The affection of my people, and the providence of heaven, are the only guards I ask for my protection."
Both houses presented her warm addresses; and the ratifications of the treaty being exchanged, peace was proclaimed on the fifth of May, to the inexpressible joy of the majority of the nation.
The articles of this famous peace were longer canvassed, and more warmly debated, than those of any other treaty read of in history. The number of different interests concerned, and the great enmity and jealousy subsisting between all, made it impossible that all could be satisfied; and indeed there seemed no other method of obtaining peace but that which was taken, for the two principal powers concerned to make their own articles, and to leave the rest for a subject of future discussion.
The first stipulation was, that Philip, now acknowledged king of Spain, should renounce all right to the crown of France, the union of two such powerful kingdoms being thought dangerous to the liberties of Europe. It was agreed that the duke of Berry, Philip's brother, and after him in succession, should also renounce his right to the crown of Spain, in case he became king of France. It was stipulated that the duke of Savoy should possess the island of Sicily, with the title of king, together with Fenestrelles, and other places on the continent, which encrease of dominion was, in some measure, made out of the spoils of the French monarchy. The Dutch had that barrier granted them, which they so long sought after; and if the crown of France was deprived of some dominions to enrich the duke of Savoy, on the other hand the house of Austria was taxed to supply the wants of the Hollanders, who were put in possession of the strongest towns in Flanders. With regard to England, its glory and its interests were secured. The fortifications of Dunkirk, an harbour that might be dangerous to their trade in time of war, were ordered to be demolished, and its port destroyed. Spain gave up all right to Gibraltar, and the island of Minorca. France resigned her pretensions to Hudson's Bay, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland; but they were left in possession of Cape Breton, and the liberty of drying their fish upon the shore. Among those articles, glorious to the English nation, their setting free the French protestants confined in the prisons and gallies for their religion was not the least meritorious. For the emperor it was stipulated, that he should possess the kingdom of Naples, the duchy of Milan, and the Spanish Netherlands. The king of Prussia was to have Upper Guelder; and a time was fixed for the emperor's acceding to these articles, as he had for some time refused obstinately to assist at the negociation. Thus Europe seemed to be formed into one great republic, the different members of which were cantoned out to different governors, and the ambition of any one state amenable to the tribunal of all. Thus it appears that the English ministry did justice to all the world; but their country denied that justice to them.
The Dutch and the Imperialists, after complaining of this desertion in their allies, resolved to hold out for some time. But they also soon after concluded a peace, the one by the barrier treaty, and the other by the treaty of Rastadt, in which their interests were ascertained, and the treaty of Utrecht confirmed.
The English being in this manner freed from their foreign enemies, had now full leisure to indulge their domestic dissensions. The two parties never contended with greater animosity, nor greater injustice, against each other. No merit could be allowed in those of the opposite faction, and no knavery seen in their own. Whether it was at this time the wish of the ministers to alter the succession of the crown from the house of Hanover to the pretender, cannot now be clearly made out; but true it is that the Whigs believed it as certain, and the Tories but faintly denied the charge. The suspicions of that party became every day stronger, particularly when they saw a total removal of the Whigs from all places of trust and confidence throughout the kingdom, and their employments bestowed on professed Tories, supposed to be maintainers of an unbroken hereditary succession. The Whigs were all in commotion, either apprehending, or affecting to apprehend, a design in favour of the pretender; nay their reports went so far as to assert that he was actually concealed in London, and that he had held several conferences with the ministers of state.
Be this as it will, the chiefs of the Whig faction held secret conferences with baron Schutz, resident from the court of Hanover. They communicated their fears and apprehensions to the elector, who, before he arrived in England, or considered the spirit of parties, was thoroughly prejudiced against the Tories. In return they received his instructions, and were taught to expect his favour in case of his succession. The house of lords seemed to share in the general apprehension. The queen was addressed to know what steps had been taken for removing the pretender from the dominions of the duke of Lorrain. They begged she would give them a list of such persons as having been once attainted for their political misconduct, had obtained licences to return into Great Britain since the Revolution. Mr. Steele, afterwards known as the celebrated Sir Richard Steele, was not a little active in raising and spreading these reports. In a pamphlet written by him, called the Crisis, he bitterly exclaimed against the ministry, and the immediate danger of their bringing in the pretender. The house of commons considered this performance as a scandalous and seditious libel; and Steele was expelled the house, of which he was a member.
But while the Whigs were attacking the ministers from without, these were in much greater danger from their own internal dissensions. Harley was created lord Oxford, and St. John lord Bolingbroke. Though they had started with the same principles and designs, yet having vanquished other opposers, they now began to turn their strength against each other. Never were two tempers worse matched to carry on business jointly together. Oxford, cautious, slow, diffident, and reserved; Bolingbroke, hot, eager, impetuous, and proud; the first of great erudition, the latter of great natural capacity; the first obstinate in command, the other reluctant to obey; the first bent on maintaining that rank in the administration, which he had obtained upon the dissolution of the last ministry, the other disdaining to act as a subaltern to a man whom he thought himself able to instruct. Both, therefore, began to form separate interests, and to adopt different principles. Oxford's plan was the more moderate, Bolingbroke's the more vigorous, but the more secure. Oxford it is thought was entirely for the Hanover succession; Bolingbroke had some hopes of bringing in the pretender. But though they hated each other most sincerely, yet they were for a while kept together by the good offices of their friends and adherents, who had the melancholy prospect of seeing the citadel of their hopes, while openly besieged from without, secretly undermining within.
This was a mortifying prospect to the Tories; but it was more particularly displeasing to the queen, who daily saw her favourite ministry declining, while her own health kept pace with their contentions. Her constitution was now quite broken. One fit of sickness succeeded another; and what completed the ruin of her health, was the anxiety of her mind. The council-chamber was for some time turned into a scene of obstinate dispute, and bitter altercation. Even in the queen's presence, the treasurer and secretary did not abstain from mutual obloquy and reproach. As Oxford foresaw that the Whig ministry would force themselves in, he was for moderate measures. Bolingbroke, on the contrary, was for setting the Whigs at defiance, and flattered the queen, by giving way to all her favourite attachments. At length, their animosities coming to an height, Oxford wrote a letter to the queen, containing a detail of public transactions, in the course of which he endeavoured to justify his own conduct, and expose the turbulent and ambitious spirit of his rival. On the other hand, Bolingbroke charged the treasurer with having invited the Duke of Marlborough to return from his voluntary exile, and of maintaining a private correspondence with the house of Hanover. In consequence of this, and the intrigues of Lady Masham, who now seconded the aims of Bolingbroke, Oxford was removed from his employments, and his rival seemed to triumph in his new victory.
But this paltry triumph was but of short duration. Bolingbroke for a while seemed to enjoy the confusion he had made; and the whole state being driven into disorder by the suddenness of the treasurer's fall, he sat secure, considering that he must be called upon to remedy every inconvenience. But the queen's declining health soon began to give him a dreadful prospect of his own situation, and the triumph of his enemies. As no plan had been adopted for supplying the vacancy of treasurer, the queen was perplexed and harrassed with the choice, and she had no longer strength left to support the fatigue. It had such an effect upon her spirits and constitution, that she declared she could not outlive it, and immediately sunk into a state of lethargic insensibility. Notwithstanding all the medicines which the physicians could prescribe, the distemper gained ground so fast, that the day after they despaired of her life, and the privy-council was assembled on the occasion.
The dukes of Somerset and Argyle being informed of the desperate state in which she lay, entered the council-chamber without being summoned, not a little to the surprize of the Tory members, who did not expect their appearance. The duke of Shrewsbury thanked them for their readiness to give their assistance at such a critical juncture, and desired them to take their places. The physicians having declared that the queen was still in her senses, the council unanimously agreed that the duke of Shrewsbury was the fittest person to be appointed to the vacant office of treasurer. Thus Bolingbroke's ambition was defeated, just when he thought himself secure.
All the members of the privy-council, without distinction, being now summoned from the different parts of the kingdom, began to provide for the security of the constitution. They sent a letter to the elector of Hanover, informing him of the queen's desperate situation, and desiring him to repair to Holland, where he would be attended by a British squadron to convey him to England. At the same time they dispatched instructions to the earl of Strafford at the Hague, to desire the states-general to be ready to perform the guaranty of the protestant succession. Precautions were taken to secure the sea-ports; and the command of the fleet was bestowed upon the earl of Berkeley, a professed Whig. These measures, which were all dictated by that party, answered a double end. It argued their own alacrity in the cause of their new sovereign, and seemed to imply a danger to the state from the disaffection of the opposite interest.
On the thirtieth of July, the queen seemed somewhat relieved by medicines, rose from her bed about eight o'clock, and walked a little. After some time, casting her eyes on a clock that stood in her chamber, she continued to gaze at it for some minutes. One of the laides in waiting asked her what she saw there more than usual; to which the queen only answered, by turning her eyes upon her with a dying look. She was soon after seized with a fit of the apoplexy, from which, however, she was somewhat recovered by the assistance of doctor Mead. She continued all night in a state of stupefaction. She gave some signs of life between twelve and one the next day; but expired the following morning, which was the first of August, a little after seven o'clock, in the forty-ninth year of her age. She reigned more than twelve years over a people that was now risen to the highest pitch of refinement; that had attained by their wisdom all the advantages of opulence, and by their valour all the happiness of security and conquest
This princess was rather amiable than great, rather pleasing than beautiful; neither her capacity nor learning were remarkable. Like all the rest of her family, she seemed rather fitted for the private duties of life, than a public station; being a pattern of conjugal fidelity, a good mother, a warm friend, and an indulgent mistress. During her reign none suffered on the scaffold for treason; for when an oppressed faction takes the lead, it is seldom cruel. In her ended the line of the Stuarts; a family whose misfortunes and misconducts are not to be paralleled in history. A family, who less than men themselves, seemed to expect from their followers more than manhood in their defence; a family that never rewarded their friends, and never avenged them of their enemies.
GEORGE I.
Hall sculp.
CHAP. XLIII. GEORGE I.
THE two parties which had long divided the kingdom, under the names of Whig and Tory, now seemed to alter their titles; and as the old epithets had lost their virulence by frequent use, the Whigs were now styled Hanoverians, and the Tories were branded with the appellation of Jacobites. The former boasted of a protestant king, the latter of an hereditary monarch, the former urged the wisdom of their new monarch, and the latter alledged that theirs was an Englishman. It is easy to perceive, that the choice would rest upon him whose wisdom and religion promised the people the greatest security.
The Jacobites had long been flattered with the hopes of seeing the succession altered by the new ministry. Ungrounded hopes, and impracticable schemes, seem to have been the only portion bequeathed to that party. They now found all their expectations blasted by the premature death of the queen. The diligence and activity of the privy-council, in which the Hanoverian interest prevailed, the general ridicule which attended their inconsistent conduct, all served to complete their confusion. Upon recollection, they saw nothing so eligible in the present crisis, as silence and submission; they hoped much from the assistance of France, and still more from the popularity and councils of the pretender. This unfortunate man, seemed to possess all the qualities of his father; his pride, his want of perseverance, and his attachment to the catholic religion. He was but a poor leader, therefore, to conduct so desperate a cause; and in fact, all the sensible part of the kingdom had forsaken it as irretrievable.
Pursuant to the act of succession, George the first, son of Ernest Augustus, first elector of Brunswick, and the princess Sophia, granddaughter to James the first, ascended the British throne. His mature age, he being now fifty-four years old, his sagacity and experience, his numerous alliances, the general tranquility of Europe, all contributed to establish his interests, and to promise him a peaceable and happy reign. His virtues, tho' not shining, were solid; he was of a very different disposition from the Stuart family, whom he succeeded. These were known, to a proverb, for leaving their friends in extremity; George, on the contrary, soon after his arrival in England, was heard to say;
"My maxim is, never to abandon my friends. To do justice to all the world, and to fear no man."
To these qualifications of resolution and perseverance, he joined great application to business. However, one fault with respect to England remained behind; he studied the interests of those subjects he had left, more than of those he came to govern.
The queen had no sooner resigned her last breath, than the privy-council met, and three instruments were produced, by which the elector appointed several of his known adherents to be added as lords justices to the seven great offices of the kingdom. Orders also were immediately issued out for proclaiming George king of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The regency appointed the earl of Dorset to carry him the intimation of his accession to the crown, and to attend him in his journey to England. They sent the general officers, in whom they could confide, to their posts; they reinforced the garrison of Portsmouth, and appointed the celebrated Mr. Addison secretary of state. To mortify the late ministry the more, lord Bolingbroke was obliged to wait every morning in the passage, among the servants, with his bag of papers, where there were persons purposely placed to insult and deride him. No tumult appeared, no commotion arose against the accession of the new king, and this gave a strong proof that no rational measures were ever taken to obstruct his exaltation.
The king first landed at Greenwich, where he was received by the duke of Northumberland, captain of the life-guard, and the lords of the regency. From the landing place, he walked to his house in the park, accompanied by a great number of the nobility and other persons of distinction, who expected to make their court in this reign, in consequence of their turbulence and opposition to the last. When he retired to his bed-chamber, he then sent for such of the nobility as had distinguished themselves by their zeal for his succession. But the duke of Ormond, the lord chancellor, and the lord treasurer, found themselves excluded. Lord Oxford, the next morning, presented himself with an air of confidence, supposing that his rupture with Bolingbroke would compensate for his former conduct. But he had the mortification to remain a considerable time unnoticed among the crowd; and then was permitted to kiss the king's hand, without being honoured with any circumstance of peculiar respect. To mortify him still more, the king expressed the most uncommon regard for the duke of Marlborough, who had just come from the continent, as well as for all the leaders of the Whig party.
The king of a faction, is but the sovereign of half his subjects. Of this, however, the new-elected monarch did not seem sensible. It was his misfortune, and consequently that of the nation, that he was hemmed round by men, who soured him with all their own interests and prejudices. None now but the leaders of a party were admitted into employment. The Whigs, while they pretended to secure the crown for their king, were with all possible arts confirming their own interests, extending their connexions, and giving laws to their sovereign. An instantaneous and total change was made in all the offices of trust, honour, or advantage. The Whigs governed the senate and the court; whom they would, they oppressed; bound the lower orders of people with severe laws, and kept them at a distance by vile distinctions; and then taught them to call this—Liberty.
These partialities soon raised discontents among the people, and the king's attachment considerably encreased the malecontents thro' all the kingdom. The clamour of the church's being in danger was revived, and the people only seemed to want a leader to incite them to insurrection. Birmingham, Bristol, Norwich, and Reading, still remembered the spirit with which they had declared for Sacheverel; and now the cry was, Down with the Whigs, and Sacheverel for ever.
A.D.
1714
During these commotions, which were fomented by every art, the pretender himself continued a calm spectator on the continent. Then was the time for him to have struck his greatest blow; but he only sent over his emissaries to disperse his ineffectual manifestoes, and delude the unwary. In these papers he observed, that the late queen had intentions of calling him to the crown. He expostulated with his people upon the injustice they had done themselves in proclaiming a foreign prince for their sovereign, contrary to the laws of the country that gave him only the real claim. Copies of a printed address, were sent to the dukes of Shrewsbury, Marlborough, Argyle, and other noblemen of the first distiection, vindicating his right to the crown, and complaining of the injustice of his people. Yet though he still complained of their conduct, he never took one step to reform his own, or to correct that objection, upon which his father had forfeited the throne. He still continued to profess the truest regard to the catholic religion; and instead of concealing his sentiments on that head, gloried in his principles. He expected to ascend the throne against a very powerful opposition, and that by professing the very same principles by which it had beep lost.
But however odious the popish superstition was to the bulk of the people at that time, the principles of the dissenters were equally displeasing. It was against them and their tenets, that mobs were excited, and riots became frequent. How violent soever the conduct of either party seemed to be, yet their animosities were founded upon religion, and they commited every excess upon principles, that had their foundation in some mistaken virtue. It was now said, by the Tories, that impiety and heresy were daily gaining ground under a Whig administration. It was said, that the bishops were so lukewarm in favour of the church, and so ardent in pursuit of temporal advantages, that every vice was rearing its head without controul. The doctrines of the true religion, were left exposed on every side, and open to the attacks of the dissenters and Socinians on one part, and of the catholics on the other. The lower orders of clergy sided with the people in these complaints; they pointed out to the ministry several tracts written in favour of Socinianism and Arianism. The ministry not only refused to punish the delinquents, but silenced the clergy themselves, and forbade their future disputations on such topics. This injunction answered the immediate purpose of the ministry; it put a stop to the clamours of the populace, fomented by the clergy, but it produced a worse disorder in its train; it produced a negligence in all religious concerns. Nothing can be more impolitic in a state, than to hinder the clergy from disputing with each other; they thus become more animated in the cause of religion, and which side soever they defend, they become wiser and better as they carry on the dispute. To silence argument in the clergy, is to encourage them in sloth and neglect; if religion be not kept awake by opposition, it sinks into silence, and no longer continues, an object of public concern.
The parliament being dissolved, another was called by a very extraordinary proclamation. In this the king complained of the evil designs of men disaffected to his succession; and of their having misrepresented his conduct and principles. He expressed hopes, that his subjects would send up to parliament the fittest persons to redress the present disorders. He entreated that they would elect such in particular, as had expressed a firm attachment to the protestant succession when it was in danger. It was thus that this monarch was tutored by the faction around him, to look with an evil eye on subjects that never opposed the succession; subjects that detested a popish monarch, and whose only fault was the desire of being governed rather by the authority of a king, than a junto of their fellow-subjects who assumed his power. In the election of this important parliament, uncommon vigour was exerted on both sides; but by dint of the monied interest that prevailed in corporations, and the activity of the ministry, which will always have weight, a great majority of Whigs was returned both in England and Scotland.
Upon the first meeting of this new parliament, in which the Whigs, with the king at their head, for he took no care to conceal his partialities, were predominant, nothing was expected but the most violent measures against the late ministry, nor were the expectations of mankind disappointed. The king gave the house of commons to understand, that the branches of the revenue, appointed for the support of the civil government, were not sufficient for that purpose. He warned them, that the pretender boasted of the assistance he expected in England to repair his former disappointments. He intimated also, that he expected their assistance in punishing such as endeavoured to deprive him of that blessing he most valued, the affection of his people. As the houses were pre-disposed to violent measures, this served to give them the alarm; and they out-went even the most sanguine expectations of the most vindictive ministry.
The lords, in return to the speech, professed their hopes that the king would be able to recover the reputation of the kingdom on the continent, the loss of which they affected to deplore. The commons went much farther: they declared their resolution to trace out those measures by which the country was depressed: they resolved to seek after those abettors on whom the pretender seemed to ground his hopes; and they determined to bring such to condign punishment. Mr. secretary Stanhope openly asserted, that notwithstanding the endeavours which had been used by the late ministry to prevent a discovery of their hidden transactions, by conveying away several papers from the secretary's office, yet there was still sufficient evidence left to prove their corruptions and treasons. He added, that these proofs would soon be laid before the house, when it would appear that the duke of Ormond had acted in concert, if not received orders from the French general.
The house seemed very well inclined to enter into any impeachment; and there was no restraint to the violence of their measures, but the voice of a multitude without doors, intimidated by the resolution of the present rulers. It was the artifice, during this and the succeeding reign, to stigmatize all those who testified their discontent against government, as Papists and Jacobites. All who ventured to speak against the violence of their measures, were reproached as designing to bring in the pretender; and most people were consequently afraid to murmur, since discontent was so near a-kin to treason. The people, therefore, beheld the violence of their conduct in silent fright, internally disapproving, yet not daring to avow their detestation.
In this ferment, the former ministry could expect neither justice nor mercy. A part of them kept away from business, Bolingbroke had hitherto appeared and spoke in the house as usual. However, his fears now prevailed over his desire to vindicate his character; finding an impeachment was likely to be made, he withdrew to the continent, leaving a letter, in which he declared, that if there had been any hopes of a fair and open trial, he would not have declined it; but being already prejudged in the minds of the majority, he thought fit, by flight, to consult their honour and his own safety.
A committee was soon after appointed, consisting of twenty persons, to inspect all the papers relative to the late negociation for peace; and to pick out such of them as might serve as subjects of accusation against the late ministry. After some time spent in this disquisition, Mr. Walpole, as chairman of the committee, declared to the house that a report was drawn up; and in the mean time, moved that a warrant might be issued for apprehending Mr. Matthew Prior, and Mr. Thomas Harley, who, being in the house, were immediately taken into custody. Then he read the report of the committee, in which a number of charges were drawn out against the queen's ministers. The clandestine negociation with Mr. Menager; the extraordinary measures pursued to form the congress at Utrecht; the trifling of the French plenipotentiaries by the connivance of the British ministers; the duke of Ormond's acting in concert with the French general; Bolingbroke's journey to France to negociate a seperate peace; these and some other charges were recited against them, and then Walpole impeached lord Bolingbroke of high treason. This struck some of the members with amazement, as there was nothing in the report that any way amounted to treason; but they were still more astonished, when lord Coningsby, rising up, was heard to say,
"The worthy chairmain has impeached the hand, but I impeach the head; he has impeached the scholar, and I the master. I impeach Robert earl of Oxford, and earl of Mortimer, of high treason, and other crimes and misdemeanors."
When lord Oxford appeared in the house of lords the day following, he was avoided by the peers as infectious; and he had now an opportunity of discovering the baseness of mankind. When the articles were read against him in the house of commons, a warm debate arose upon that in which he was charged with having advised the French king of the manner of gaining Tournay from the Dutch. Mr. Walpole alledged that it was treason. Sir Joseph Jekyl, a known Whig, said that he could never be of opinion that it amounted to treason. It was his principle, he said, to do justice to all men, to the highest and the lowest. He hoped he might pretend to some knowlege of the laws, and would not scruple to declare upon this part of the question in favour of the criminal. To this Walpole answered, with great warmth, that there were several persons both in and out of the committee, who did not in the least yield to that member in point of honesty, and exceeded him in the knowlege of the laws, and yet were satisfied that the charge in that article amounted to high treason. This point being decided against the earl, and the other articles approved by the house, the lord Coningsby, attended by the Whig members, impeached the lord Oxford at the bar of the house of lords, demanding, at the same time, that he might lose his seat, and be committed to custody. When this point came to be debated in the house of lords a violent altercation ensued. Those who still adhered to the deposed minster maintained the injustice and the danger of such a proceeding. At last the earl himself rose up, and, with great tranquillity, spoke to the following purpose. After observing that the whole charge might be reduced to the negociation for, and the conclusion of the peace,
"I am accused, says he, for having made a peace; a peace, which, bad as it is now represented, has been approved by two successive parliaments. For my own part, I always acted by the immediate directions and command of the queen my mistress, and never offended against any known law. I am justified in my own conscience, and unconcerned for the life of an insignificant old man. But I cannot, without the highest ingratitude, remain unconcerned for the best of queens; obligation binds me to vindicate her memory. My lords, if ministers of state, acting by the immediate commands of their sovereign, are afterwards to be made accountable for their proceedings, it may one day or other be the case of all the members of this august assembly. I doubt not, therefore, that out of regard to yourselves, your lordships will give me an equitable hearing; and I hope, that in the prosecution of this enquiry, it will appear, that I have merited not only the indulgence, but the favour of this government. My lords, I am now to take my leave of your lordships, and of this honourable house, perhaps, for ever. I shall lay down my life with pleasure, in a cause favoured by my late dear royal mistress. And when I consider that I am to be judged by the justice, honour, and virtue of my peers, I shall acquiesce, and retire with great content. And, my lords, God's will be done."
On his return from the house of lords to his own house, where he was for that night permitted to go, he was followed by a great multitude of people, crying out,
"High church, Ormond, and Oxford for ever."
Next day he was brought to the bar, where he received a copy of his impeachment, and was allowed a month to prepare his answer. Though doctor Mead declared that if the earl should be sent to the Tower, his life would be in danger, it was carried in the house that he should be committed. The ferment in the house still continued; the earl of Anglesey declared that such violent measures would make the sceptre shake in the king's hands. This encreased the tumult; and though much greater liberties have been since taken by that party against their sovereign, yet Anglesey was then obliged to apologize for this expression. Oxford was attended in his way to the Tower by a prodigious concourse of people, who vented their anger at his commitment in imprecations upon his prosecutors.
The violence of the commons was answered with equal violence without doors. Tumults became every day more frequent, and every tumult only served to encrease the severity of the legislature. They now passed an act, declaring, that if any persons, to the number of twelve, unlawfully assembled, should continue together one hour after being required to disperse by a justice of peace, or other officer, and after hearing the act against riots read in public, they should be deemed guilty of felony, without benefit of clergy. This is a very severe act, and one of the greatest restrictions on the liberty of the subject that passed during this century. By this, all meetings of the people, either for the purposes of amusement or redress, are rendered criminal, if it shall please any magistrate to consider them as such. It is, indeed, very remarkable, that all the severe and most restrictive laws were enacted by that party that are continually stunning mankind with a cry of freedom.
At the time appointed, Oxford's answer to the charges exhibited against him was delivered into the house of lords, from whence it was transmitted to the house of commons. Walpole having heard it read, declared that it contained little more than a repetition of the pamphlets in vindication of the late ministry, and that it maliciously laid upon the queen the blame of all the pernicious measures he had led her into. He alledged, that it was also a libel on the proceedings of the house, since he endeavoured to clear those persons who had already confessed their guilt by flight. In consequence of this a committee was appointed to manage his impeachment, and to prepare evidence against him. By this committee it was reported, that Mr. Prior had grosly prevaricated on his examination, and behaved with great contempt of their authority. The duke of Ormond and lord Bolingbroke having omitted to surrender themselves within a limited time, it was ordered that the earl marshal should raze out their names and arms from among the list of peers, and inventories were taken of their estates and possessions, which were declared forfeited to the crown. In this manner an indiscriminate vengeance seemed to pursue the persons who composed the late ministry, and who concluded a more beneficial treaty of peace than England ever obtained either before or since.
In consequence of these proceedings lord Oxford was confined in the Tower, where he continued for two years, during which time the nation was in a continual ferment from an actual rebellion that was carried on unsuccessfully. After the execution of some lords, who were taken in arms, the nation seemed glutted with blood, and that was the time that lord Oxford petitioned to be brought to his trial. He knew that the fury of the nation was spent on objects that were really culpable, and expected that his case would look like innocence itself, when compared to theirs.
A.D.
1717
A day, therefore, at his own request was assigned him, and the commons were ordered to prepare for their charge. At the appointed time the peers repaired to the court in Westminster-hall, where lord Cowper presided as lord high-steward. The king, and the rest of the royal family, with the foreign ministers, assisted at the solemnity. The earl was conducted from the Tower; the articles of his impeachment read, with his answers, and the reply of the commons. As Sir Joseph Jekyl stood up to make good the first article of the charge, which amounted only to a misdemeanor, lord Harcourt represented to the lords that it would be tedious and unnecessary to go through the whole of the charges alledged against the earl; that if those only were proved, in which he was impeached of high treason, the earl would then forfeit his life and estate, and there would be an end of the matter. He was, therefore, of opinion, that the commons should not be admitted to proceed upon the more unimportant part of the accusation, until judgment should be first obtained upon the articles for high-treason. In this the lords agreeing, the commons declared that it was their undoubted privilege to impeach a peer either for treason, or a misdemeanor, or to mix the accusation as they thought proper. The lords asserted that it was a right inherent in every court of justice to direct the methods of proceeding in that court. The commons demanded a conference; but this was refused. The dispute grew warm; the lords informed the lower house by message that they would proceed to the trial; the commons disregarded the information, and refused to attend. Soon after the lords repairing to Westminster-hall, and commanding the earl to be brought forth, his accusers were ordered to appear. But finding the commons resolute, having waited a quarter of an hour, it was voted that the prisoner should be set at liberty. To this dispute he probably owed the security of his title and fortune; for as to the articles, importing him guilty of high treason, they were at once malignant and frivolous; so that his life was in no manner of danger.
The duke of Ormond, as has been mentioned, was accused in the same manner; and it is thought that his correspondence with the pretender was better ascertained than his accusers at first thought proper to declare. However, Mr. Hutcheson, one of the commissioners of trade, boldly spoke in his defence. He expatiated on his noble birth and qualifications; he enumerated the services he had performed to the crown; he asserted that the duke had only obeyed the queen's commands, and affirmed that all the allegations against him could not, in rigour of the law, be construed into high treason. His flight was a sufficient answer to these arguments; having refused to defend his innocence, his opposers were resolved to condemn him as guilty. The night he took leave of England, it is said he paid a visit to lord Oxford, who dissuaded him from flying with as much earnestness, as the duke entreated Oxford to fly. He bid his friend the last adieu, with these words,
"Farewell Oxford, without an head."
To which the other replied,
"Farewell duke, without a duchy."
He afterwards continued to reside chiefly in Spain, an illustrious exile, and fruitlessly attached to a master unworthy of his services.
The commons were not less determined against lord Strafford, against whom articles of impeachment were voted. However, he was afterwards included with others in an act of indemnity, and found safety among the number that were driven into guilt, and then thought worthy of pardon.
In the mean time, these vindictive proceedings excited the indignation of the people, who perceived that the avenues to royal favour were closed against all but a faction. The flames of rebellion were actually kindled in Scotland, where, to their other grievances, they joined that of the union, which they were taught to consider as an oppression. The malecontents of that country had all along maintained a correspondence with their friends in England, who were now driven by resentment and apprehension into a system of politics they would not otherwise had dreamt of. Some of the Tory party, who were men attached to the protestant religion, and of moderate principles in government, began to associate with the Jacobites, and to wish in earnest for a revolution. Scotland first shewed them an example. The earl of Mar assembling three hundred of his own vassals in the Highlands, proclaimed the pretender at Castletown, and set up his standard at a place called Braemaer, assuming the title of lieutenant-general of his majesty's forces. To second these attempts, two vessels arrived in Scotland from France, with arms, ammunition, and a number of officers, together with assurances to the earl, that the pretender himself would shortly come over to head his own forces. The earl, in consequence of this promise, soon found himself at the head of ten thousand men, well armed and provided. He secured the pass of Tay at Perth, where his head quarters were established, and made himself master of the whole fruitful province of Fife, and all the sea coast on that side of the Frith of Edinburgh. He marched from thence to Dumblaine, as if he had intended to cross the Forth at Stirling bridge; but there he was informed of the preparations the duke of Argyle was making, who was raising forces to give him battle.
This nobleman, whose family had suffered so much under the Stuart line, was still possessed of his hereditary hatred; and upon this occasion he was appointed commander in chief of all the forces of North Britain. The earl of Sutherland also went down to Scotland to raise forces for the service of government; and many other Scottish peers followed the example. The earl of Mar being informed that the duke was advancing against him from Stirling, with all his own clans, assisted by some troops from Ireland, at first thought it wisest to retreat. But being soon after joined by some of the clans under the earl of Seaforth, and others under general Gordon, an experienced officer, who had signalized himself in the Russian service, he resolved to face the enemy, and directed his march towards the South.
The duke of Argyle apprized of his intentions, and at any rate willing to prove his attachment to the present government, resolved to give him battle in the neighbourhood of Dumblain, though his forces did not amount to half the number of the enemy. In the morning, therefore, he drew up his army, which did not exceed three thousand five hundred men, in order of battle; but he soon found himself greatly out-flanked by the enemy. The duke, therefore, perceiving the earl making attempts to surround him, was obliged to alter his disposition, which, on account of the scarcity of general officers, was not done so expeditiously, as to be finished before the rebels began the attack. The left wing, therefore, of the duke's army received the center of the enemy, and supported the first charge without shrinking. It seemed even for a while victorious, as the earl of Clanronald who commanded against it, was killed on the spot. But Glengary, who was second in command, undertook to inspire his intimidated forces; and waving his bonnet, cried out several times, Revenge. This animated the rebel troops to such a degree, that they followed him close to the points of the enemies bayonets, and got within their guard. A total rout began to ensue of that wing of the royal army; and general Wetham, their commander, flying full speed to Stirling, gave out that all was lost, and that the rebels were completely victorious. In the mean time, the duke of Argyle, who commanded in person on the right, attacked the left of the enemy, and drove them before him two miles, though they often faced about, and attempted to rally. Having thus entirely broken that wing, and driven them over the river Allen, he returned back to the field of battle, where, to his great mortification, he found the enemy victorious, and patiently waiting the assault. However, instead of renewing the engagement, both armies continued to gaze at each other, neither caring to begin the attack. At evening, both sides drew off, and both sides claimed the victory. Though the possession of the field was kept by neither, yet certainly all the honour, and all the advantages of the day, belonged only to the duke of Argyle. It was sufficient for him to have interrupted the progress of the enemy; for in their circumstances, delay was defeat. In fact, the earl of Mar soon found his disappointments and his losses encrease. The castle of Inverness, of which he was in possession, was delivered up to the king by lord Lovat, who had hitherto professed to act in the interest of the pretender. The marquis of Tullibardine forsook the earl, in order to defend his own part of the country; and many of the clans seeing no likelihood of coming soon to a second engagement, returned quietly home; for an irregular army is much easier led to battle, than induced to bear the fatigues of a campaign.
In the mean time, the rebellion was still more unsuccessfully prosecuted in England. From the time the pretender had undertaken this wild project at Paris, in which the duke of Ormond and lord Bolingbroke were engaged, lord Stair, the English ambassador there, had penetrated all his designs, and sent faithful accounts of all his measures, and all his adherents to the ministry at home. Upon the first rumour, therefore, of an insurrection, they imprisoned several lords and gentlemen, of whom they had a suspicion. The earls of Home, Wintown, and Kinnoul, and others, were committed to the castle of Edinburgh. The king obtained leave from the lower house to seize Sir William Wyndham, Sir John Packington, Harvey, Combe, and others. The lords Landsdown and Duplin were taken into custody. Sir William Wyndham's father-in-law, the duke of Somerset, offered to become bound for his appearance; but his surety was refused.
But all these precautions were not able to stop the insurrection in the western counties, where it was already begun. However all their preparations were weak and ill conducted, every measure was betrayed to government as soon as projected, and many revolts repressed in the very outset. The university of Oxford was treated with great severity on this occasion. Major general Pepper, with a strong detachment of dragoons, took possession of the city at day break, declaring he would instantly shoot any of the students, who should presume to appear without the limits of their respective colleges. The insurrection in the Northern counties came to greater maturity.
A.D.
1715
In the month of October, the earl of Derwentwater, and Mr. Forster, took the field with a body of horse, and being joined by some gentlemen from the borders of Scotland, proclaimed the pretender. Their first attempt was to seize upon Newcastle, in which they had many friends; but they found the gates shut against them, and were obliged to retire to Hexham. To oppose these, general Carpenter was detached by government, with a body of nine hundred men, and an engagement was hourly expected. The rebels had two methods, by which they might have conducted themselves with prudence. The one was to march directly into the Western parts of Scotland, and there join general Gordon, who commanded a strong body of Highlanders. The other was to cross the Tweed, and boldly attack general Carpenter, whose forces did nor exceed their own. From the infatuation attendant on that party, neither of these measures were pursued. They took the route to Jedburgh, where they hoped to leave Carpenter on one side, and penetrate into England by the western border. This was the effectual means to cut themselves off either from retreat or assistance. A party of Highlanders, who had joined them by this time, at first refused to accompany them in this desperate irruption, and one half of them actually returned to their own country. At Brampton, Mr. Foster opened his commission of general, which had been sent him from the earl of Mar, and there he proclaimed the pretender. They continued their march to Penrith, where the body of the militia, that was assembled to oppose them, fled at their appearance. From Penrith, they proceeded, by the way of Kendal and Lancaster, to Preston, of which place they took possession, without any resistance. But this was the last stage of their ill advised incursion; for general Wills, at the head of seven thousand men, came up to the town to attack them; and from his activity there was no escaping. They now, therefore, began to raise barricadoes, and to put the place in a posture of defence, repulsing the first attack of the royal army with success. Next day, however, Wills was reinforced by Carpenter, and the town was invested on all sides. In this deplorable situation, to which they were reduced by their own rashness, Foster hoped to capitulate with the general, and accordingly sent colonel Oxburgh, who had been taken prisoner, with a trumpeter to propose a capitulation. This, however, Wills refused, alledging, that he would not treat with rebels, and that the only favour they had to expect, was to be spared from immediate slaughter. These were hard terms, but no better could be obtained. They accordingly laid down their arms, and were put under a strong guard; all the noblemen and leaders were secured, and a few of their officers tried for deserting from the royal army, and shot by order of a court-martial. The common men were imprisoned at Chester and Liverpool; the noblemen and considerable officers were sent to London, and led through the streets, pinioned and bound together, to intimidate their party.
Such was the success of two expeditions set on foot in favour of the pretender, in neither of which appears the smallest traces of conduct or design. But the conduct of his party on this side the water, was wisdom itself, compared to that with which it was managed at Paris. Bolingbroke there had been made his secretary, and Ormond his prime minister. But these statesmen quickly found that nothing could be done in favour of his cause. The king of France, who had ever espoused the interest of the abdicated family, was just dead; and the duke of Orleans, who succeeded in the government of the kingdom, was averse to lending the pretender any assistance. His party, however, which was composed of the lowest, and the most ignorant exiles from the British dominions, affected the utmost confidence, and boasted of a certainty of success. The deepest secrets of his cabinet, and all his intended measures, were bandied about in coffee-houses by persons of the lowest rank, both in fortune and abilities. Subaltern officers resolved to be his generals; and even prostitutes were entrusted to manage his negociations. Little, therefore, could be expected from such assistants, and such councils.
He might by this time have been convinced of the vanity of his expectations, in supposing that the whole country would rise up in his cause. His affairs were actually desperate; yet, with his usual infatuation, he resolved to hazard his person among his friends in Scotland, at a time when such a measure was too late for success. Passing, therefore, through France in disguise, and embarking in a small vessel at Dunkirk, he arrived after a voyage of a few days on the coasts of Scotland, with only six gentlemen in his train. He passed unknown through Aberdeen to Feterosse, where he was met by the earl of Mar, and about thirty noblemen and gentlemen of the first quality. There he was solemnly proclaimed. His declaration, dated at Commercy, was printed and dispersed. He went from thence to Dundee, where he made a public entry, and in two days more he arrived at Scoon, where he intended to have the ceremony of his coronation performed. He ordered thanksgivings to be made for his safe arrival; he enjoined the ministers to pray for him in their churches; and, without the smallest share of power, went through the ceremonies of royalty, which threw an air of ridicule on all his conduct. Having thus spent some time in unimportant parade, he resolved to abandon the enterprize with the same levity with which it was undertaken. Having made a speech to his grand council, he informed them of his want of money, arms, and ammunition, for undertaking a campaign, and therefore deplored that he was compelled to leave them. He once more embarked on board a small French ship that lay in the harbour of Montrose, accompanied with several lords, his adherents, and in five days arrived at Graveline.
General Gordon, who was left commander in chief of the forces, with the assistance of the earl Mareschal, proceeded at their head to Aberdeen, where he secured three vessels to sail Northward, which took on board such persons as intended to make their escape to the continent. He then continued his march through the Highlands, and quietly dismissed his forces as he went forward. This retreat was made with such expedition, that the duke of Argyle, with all his activity, could never overtake his rear, which consisted of a thousand horse.
In this manner ended a rebellion, which nothing but imbecillity could project, and nothing but rashness support. But though the enemy was now no more, the fury of the victors did not seem in the least to abate with success. The law was now put in force with all its terrors; and the prisons of London were crowded with those deluded wretches, whom the ministry seemed resolved not to pardon. The commons, in their address to the crown, declared they would prosecute, in the most rigorous manner, the authors of the late rebellion, that their resolutions were as speedy, as their measures were vindictive. The earls of Derwentwater, Nithisdale, Carnwarth, and Wintown, the lords Widrington, Kenmuir, and Nairne were impeached, and upon pleading guilty, all but lord Wintown, received sentence of death. No entreaties could soften the ministry to spare these unhappy men. The house of lords even presented an address to the throne for mercy, but without effect; the king only answered, that on this, and all other occasions, he would act as he thought most consistent with the dignity of the crown, and the safety of his people.
Orders were accordingly dispatched for executing the lords Derwentwater, Nithisdale, and Kenmuir immediately; the rest were respited to a farther time. Nithisdale, however, had the good fortune to escape in woman's cloaths, which were brought him by his mother the night before his execution. Derwentwater and Kenmuir were brought to the scaffold on Tower-hill at the time appointed. Both underwent their sentence with calm intrepidity, pitied by all, and seemingly less moved themselves than those who beheld them. Derwentwater was particularly regretted, as he was generous, hospitable, and humane. His fortune being large, he gave bread to multitudes of the poor, by whom he was considered as a parent and a protector.
To second these vindictive efforts, an act of parliament was made for trying the private prisoners in London, and not in Lancashire, where they were taken in arms. This proceeding was considered, by some of the best lawyers, as an alteration of the ancient constitution of the kingdom, by which it was confirmed, that every prisoner should be tried in the place where the offence was committed. In the beginning of April, commissioners for trying the rebels met in the court of common pleas, when the bills were found against Mr. Forster, Mr. Mackintosh, and twenty of their confederates.
Forster escaped from Newgate, and reached the continent in safety, the rest pleaded not guilty. Pitts, the keeper of Newgate, being suspected of having connived at Forster's escape, was tried for his life, but acquitted. Yet notwithstanding this, Mackintosh and several other prisoners, broke from Newgate, after having mastered the keeper and turnkey, and disarmed the centinel. The court proceeded to the trial of those that remained; four or five were hanged, drawn, and quartered, at Tyburn. Among these, William Paul, a clergyman, attracted peculiar pity: he professed himself a true and sincere member of the church of England, but not of that scismatical church, whose bishops had abandoned their king, and shamefully given up their ecclesiastical privileges. How strong soever the taint of faction may be in any man's bosom, if he has any goodness in him, he cannot help feeling the strongest pity for those brave men who are willing, however erroneously, to sacrifice their lives to their principles. The judges appointed to try the rebels at Liverpool, found a considerable number guilty of high treason. Two and twenty were executed at Preston and Manchester; about a thousand prisoners experienced the king's mercy, if such it may be called, to be transported to North America.
Such was the end of a rebellion, probably at first hastened forward by the rigour of the new Whig ministry and parliament. In runing through the revolutions of human transactions, it is a melancholy consideration that in all contentions, we generally find little to applaud on either side. We here see a weak and imprudent party, endeavouring not only to subvert the government, but the religion of their country. We see a pretended monarch, bred a papist himself, and confiding in popish counsellors, professing a desire to govern and protect the protestant religion. Most of his adherents, men of desperate fortunes, indifferent morals, or narrow principles, urging on a cause which nothing but repeated slaughter could establish. On the other hand, we see them opposed by a party, actuated by pride, avarice, and animosity, concealing a love of power under a mask of freedom; and brandishing the sword of justice, to strike a vindictive blow. Clemency in the government at that time, would probably have extinguished all that factious spirit which has since continued to disturb public tranquility; for that must be a wretched people indeed, that are more easily driven than led into obedience to authority.
CHAP. XLIV. GEORGE I. (Continued.)
IN a constitution so very complicated as that of England, it must necessarily suffer alterations from time; for some of its branches may gain strength, while others become weaker. At this period, the orders placed between the king and the people, acquired more than their share of power. The king himself being a foreigner, and ignorant of the laws and constitution of the country, was kept under the controul of his ministers, who, by their private connexions, governed the parliament. At the same time, the people, awed by the fears of imputed Jacobitism, were afraid to murmur, and were content to give up their freedom for safety. The rebellion now extinguished, only served to confirm the arrogance of those in power. The parliament had shewn itself eager to second the views of the ministry; and the pretended danger of the state, was made a pretext for continuing the parliament beyond the term fixed for its dissolution. An act, therefore, was made by their own authority, repealing that by which they were to be dissolved every third year, and the term of the duration was extended to seven years. This attempt, in any delegated body of people, to encrease their own power by extending it, is contrary to the first principles of justice. If it was right to extend their duration to seven years, they might also perpetuate their authority; and thus cut off even the shadow of nomination. This bill, however, passed both houses, and all objections to it were considered as disaffection. The people might murmur at this encroachment, but it was too late for redress.
Domestic concerns being adjusted, the king began to turn his thoughts to his Hanoverian dominions, and resolved upon a voyage to the continent. He foresaw a storm gathering from Sweden. As Charles the twelfth, the extraordinary monarch of that country, was highly provoked against him for having entered into a confederacy with the Russians and Danes in his absence, and for having purchased the towns of Bremen and Verden from the king of Denmark, which constituted a part of his dominions. George, therefore, having passed thro' Holland to Hanover, in order to secure his German dominions, entered into a new treaty with the Dutch and the regent of France; by which they agreed mutually to assist each other in case of an invasion.
Nor were his fears from Sweden without foundation, Charles maintained a close correspondence with the disaffected subjects of Great Britain; and a scheme was formed for the landing a considerable body of Swedish forces, with the king at their head, in some part of the island, where it was expected they would be joined by all the malecontents in the kingdom. Count Gyllenburg, the Swedish minister in London, was peculiarly active in the conspiracy; but being seized with all his papers, by order of the king, the confederacy was broke for this time. However, a bill was passed by the commons, prohibiting all commerce with Sweden, the trade with which country was of the utmost consequence to the English merchants. A supply of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds was granted the king, to enable him to secure his dominions against the threatened invasion. These were the first fruits of England's being wedded to the continent; however, the death of the Swedish monarch, who soon after was killed by a cannon-ball at the siege of Fredericshall in Norway, put an end to all disquietude from that quarter.
But this was the age of treaties, subsidies, and political combinations. At that time the politicians of the age, supposed that such paper chains would be sufficient to secure the permanence of dominion, but experience has sufficiently taught the contrary. Among other treaties concluded with such hopes, was that called the Quadruple Alliance. It was agreed upon between the emperor, France, England, and Holland, that the emperor should renounce all pretensions to the crown of Spain, and exchange Sardinia for Sicily with the duke of Savoy; that the succession to the dutchies of Tuscany, Parma, and Placentia, should be settled on the queen of Spain's eldest son, in case the present possessors should die without male issue. However, this treaty was by no means agreeable to the king of Spain, and consequently it became prejudicial to the English, as it interrupted the commerce to that kingdom. But the interest of England was not the object which this treaty was intended to secure.
The displeasure of the king of Spain soon broke out into open war against the emperor, whom he considered as the chief contriver of this alliance; and a numerous body of Spanish troops were sent into Italy to support Philip's pretensions in that quarter. It was in vain that the regent of France attempted to dissuade him, in vain the king of England offered his mediation, their interposition was rejected as partial and unjust. War, in the present exhausted state of the English finances, was a real evil; but a rupture with Spain was resolved on in order to support a very distant interest. A strong squadron of twenty-two ships was equipped with all expedition, the command of which was given to Sir George Byng, and ordered to sail for Naples, which was then threatened by the Spanish army. He was received with the greatest demonstrations of joy by the inhabitants of that city, and was informed that the Spaniards, to the amount of thirty thousand men, were then actually landed in Sicily. In this exigence, as no assistance could be given by land, he resolved to sail thither, fully determined to pursue the Spanish fleet on which they had embarked. Upon coming round Cape Faro, he perceived two small Spanish vessels, and pursuing them closely, they led him to their main fleet, which before noon he discovered in line of battle, amounting, in all, to twenty-seven sail. However, the Spanish fleet, upon perceiving the force of the English, attempted to sail away, though superior in number. The English had for some time acquired such expertness in naval affairs, that no other nation would attempt to face them, but with manifest advantage. The Spaniards seemed distracted in their councils, and acted with extreme confusion. They made a running fight, and the commanders behaved with courage and activity, in spite of which they were all taken except three, which were preserved by the conduct of one Cammoc, their vice admiral, a native of Ireland. Sir George Byng behaved on this occasion with equal prudence and resolution, and the king wrote him a letter, with his own hand, approving his conduct. This victory, necessarily produced the resentment and complaints of the Spanish ministers in all the courts of Europe; and hastened the declaration of war upon the part of the English, which had been hitherto delayed.
This rupture with Spain, served once more to raise the declining expectations of the pretender and his adherents. It was hoped that, by the assistance of cardinal Alberoni, the Spanish minister, a new insurrection might be excited in England. The duke of Ormond was the person fixed upon to conduct this expedition; and he obtained from the Spanish court a fleet of ten ships of war and transports, having on board six thousand regular troops, with arms for twelve thousand more. But fortune was still as unfavourable as ever. Having set sail, and proceeded as far as Cape Finisterre, he was encountered by a violent storm, which disabled his fleet, and frustrated the expedition. This misfortune, together with the bad success of the Spanish arms in Sicily, and other parts of Europe, induced Philip to wish for peace; and he at last consented to sign the quadruple alliance. This was at that time thought an immense acquisition, but England, though she procured the ratification, had no share in the advantage of the treaty.
The king having thus given peace once more to Europe, returned from the continent to receive the addresses and congratulations of his parliament. From addressing they proceeded to an object of much greater importance; this was the securing the dependency of the Irish parliament on that of Great Britain. One Maurice Annesley had appealed to the house of peers in England, from a decree made by the house of peers in Ireland, and this decree was reversed. The British peers ordered the barons of the exchequer in Ireland to put Mr. Annesley in possession of the lands he had lost by the decree of the lords in that kingdom. The barons of the exchequer obeyed this order; and the Irish house of peers passed a vote against them, as having attempted to diminish the just privileges of the parliament of Ireland; and at the same time ordered the barons to be taken under the custody of the black-rod. On the other hand, the house of lords in England resolved, that the barons of the exchequer in Ireland had acted with courage and fidelity, and addressed the king to signify his approbation of their conduct by some marks of his favour. To complete their intention a bill was prepared, by which the Irish house of lords was deprived of all right of final jurisdiction. This bill was opposed in both houses; but particularly in that of the commons. It was there asserted by Mr. Pitt that it would only encrease the power of the English peers, who already were but too formidable. Mr. Hungerford demonstrated, that the Irish lords had always exerted their power of finally deciding causes. Notwithstanding all opposition the bill was carried by a great majority, and soon after received the royal assent. The people of Ireland were not at that time so well acquainted with their rights and just privileges as they are at present. Their lords then were mostly made up of men bred up in luxury and ignorance; neither spirited enough to make opposition, nor skilful enough to conduct it. It is very extraordinary that this bill, which was a real grievance, produced no commotions in the kingdom of Ireland; and that the coinage of half-pence by one Wood, in England, for the people of that country, which was no grievance, was attended with very great disturbances. The reason must be, that the latter opposition was conducted by a man of genius, and the former imposition submitted to by men of weak abilities.
But this blow, which was felt severely by the Irish, was by no means so great as that felt by the English at this time, from that spirit of scheming avarice, which had infected all ranks of people. It was but in the preceding year that one John Law, a Scotchman,
A.D.
1721
had cheated France, by erecting a company under the name of the Missisippi, which promised that deluded people great wealth; but which ended in involving the French nation in great distress. It was now that the people of England were deceived by a project entirely similar, which is remembered by the name of the South-sea Scheme, and which was felt long after by thousands. To explain this as concisely as possible, it is to be observed, that ever since the Revolution under king William, the government not having sufficient supplies granted by parliament, or what was granted requiring time to be collected, they were obliged to borrow money from several different companies of merchants; and, among the rest, from that company which traded to the South-sea. In the year 1716 the government was indebted to this company about nine millions and an half of money, for which they granted at the rate of six per cent. interest. As this company was not the only one to which the government was indebted, and paid such large yearly interest, Sir Robert Walpole conceived a design of lessening these national debts, by giving the several companies an alternative either of accepting a lower interest, namely, five per cent. or of being paid the principal. The different companies chose rather to accept of the diminished interest, than to be paid the principal. The South-sea company in particular having made up their debt to the government, ten millions; instead of six hundred thousand pounds, which they usually received as interest, were satisfied with five hundred thousand. In the same manner the governors and company of the bank, and other companies, were contented to receive a diminished annual interest for their respective loans, all which greatly lessened the debts of the nation.
It was in this situation of things that one Blount, who had been bred a scrivener, and was possessed of all the cunning and plausibility requisite for such an undertaking, proposed to the ministry, in the name of the South-sea company, to buy up all the debts of the different companies, and thus to become the sole creditor of the state. The terms he offered to government were extremely advantageous. The South-sea company was to redeem the debts of the nation out of the hands of the private proprietors, who were creditors to the government, upon whatever terms they could agree on; and for the interest of this money, which they had thus redeemed, and taken into their own hands, they would be contented to be allowed by government, for six years, five per cent. then the interest should be reduced to four per cent. and should at any time be redeemable by parliament. Thus far all was fair, and all was reasonable. For these purposes a bill passed both houses; but now came the part of the scheme big with fraud and ruin. As the directors of the South-sea company could not of themselves be supposed to possess money sufficient to buy up the debts of the nation, they were empowered to raise it by opening a subscription to a scheme for trading in the South-seas, from which commerce immense advantages were promised, and still greater expected by the rapacious credulity of the people. All people, therefore, who were creditors to government, were invited to come in, and exchange their securities, namely, the government for the South-sea company. Many were the advantages they were taught to expect from having their money traded with in a commerce to and from the southern parts of America, where it was reported that the English were to have a new settlement granted them by the king of Spain.
The directors books were no sooner opened for the first subscription, but crowds came to make the exchange of government stock for South-sea stock. The delusion was artfully continued and spread. Subscriptions in a few days sold for double the price they had been bought at. The scheme succeeded beyond even the projectors hopes, and the whole nation was infected with a spirit of avaricious enterprize. The infatuation prevailed; the stock encreased to a surprising degree, and to near ten times the value of what it was first subscribed for.
After a few months, however, the people waked from their dream of riches, and found that all the advantages they expected were merely imaginary, while thousands of families were involved in one common ruin. Many of the directors, by whose arts the people were taught to expect such great benefits from a traffic to the South-seas, had amassed considerable fortunes by the credulity of the public. It was one consolation to the people to find the parliament sharing the general indignation, and resolving to strip those plunderers of their unjust possessions. Orders were first given to remove all the directors of the South-sea company from their seats in parliament, and the places they possessed under government.
The principal delinquents were punished by a forfeiture of all such possessions and estates as they had acquired during the continuance of this popular frenzy. The next care was to redress the sufferers. Several useful and just resolutions were taken by parliament, and a bill was speedily prepared for repairing the late sufferings, as far as the inspection of the legislature could extend. Of the profits arising from the South-sea scheme, the sum of seven millions was given back to the original proprietors; several additions were also made to their dividends, out of what was possessed by the company in their own right, and the remaining capital stock was also divided among the old proprietors at the rate of thirty-three pounds per cent.
In the mean time petitions from all parts of the kingdom were presented to the house demanding justice, and the whole nation seemed exasperated to the highest degree. Public credit sustained a terrible shock. Some principal members of the ministry were deeply concerned in these fraudulent transactions. The bank was drawn upon faster than it could supply, and nothing was heard but the ravings of disappointment and despair.
The discontents occasioned by these public calamities once more gave the disaffected party hopes of succeeding. But in all their counsels they were weak, divided, and wavering. The duke of Orleans, regent of France, is said to be the first who gave the king information of a recent coinspracy carried on by many persons of the first distinction, joined by several malcontents of inferior quality. In consequence of this a camp was immediately formed in Hyde Park, and all military officers were ordered to repair to their respective stations. Lieutenant-general Macartney was dispatched to Ireland to bring over troops from that kingdom, and the states of Holland were called upon to be ready with their guaranty. The people thus excited by new terrors, every day expected an invasion, and looked where the vengeance of government was likely to fall.
The first person who was seized upon was Francis Atterbury, bishop of Rochester, a prelate long obnoxious to the present government, and possessed of abilities to render him formidable to any ministry he opposed. His papers were seized, and he himself confined to the Tower. Soon after the duke of Norfolk, the earl of Orrery, the lord North and Grey, and some others of inferior rank, were arrested and imprisoned. Of all these, however, only the bishop, and one Mr. Layer, a barrister, felt the severity of government, the proofs against the rest amounting to no convictive evidence.
A bill was brought into the house of commons, impeaching bishop Atterbury, although he pleaded privilege as a peer. Though this met with some opposition in that house, yet it was resolved by a great majority in the house of commons that he should be deprived of his dignity and benefice, and should be banished the kingdom for ever. The bishop made no defence in the lower house, reserving all his force, which he intended to exert in the house of lords.
In that house his cause had many friends; and his own eloquence, politeness, and ingenuity, procured him many more. His cause coming before that assembly, a long and warm debate ensued, in which the contest was more equally managed than the ministry expected. As there was little or no proof against him, but what arose from intercepted letters, which were written in cyphers, the earl of Pawlet insisted that such could not be construed into treason or offence. The duke of Wharton having summed up the depositions, and shewn the insufficiency of them, concluded with saying, that let the consequences be what they would, he hoped the lustre of that house would never be tarnished by condemning a man without evidence. Lord Bathurst also spoke in the bishop's favour, observing, that if such extraordinary proceedings were countenanced, he saw nothing remaining for him and others, but to retire to their country houses, and there, if possible, quietly to enjoy their estates within their own families, since the most trifling correspondence, or any intercepted letter, might be made criminal. Then turning to the bench of bishops, he said he could hardly account for the inveterate hatred and malice which some persons bore to the ingenious bishop of Rochester, unless it was, that, infatuated like the wild Americans, they fondly hoped to inherit not only the spoils, but even the abilities, of the man they should destroy. Notwithstanding all that was said in the bishop's favour, the bill passed against him; the other party saying very little, conscious of a majority in their favour. Among the members of the house of commons who exerted themselves in the bishop's favour, was the celebrated doctor Freind, who was himself soon after taken into custody on suspicion of treasonable practices; but he was admitted to bail, his friend doctor Mead becoming his security. The bishop's sentence being confirmed, he in two days after embarked for the continent, attended by his daughter. On the same day that he landed at Calais, the famous lord Bolingbroke arrived there on his return to England, having, for some secret reasons, obtained his majesty's pardon. Atterbury being informed of this circumstance, could not help observing, with a smile, that they were exchanged. The bishop continued in exile and poverty till he died, though it may not be improper to observe, that doctor Sacheverel dying some time before him, left him by will five hundred pounds.
The fate of Mr. Christopher Layer was more severe. Being brought to his trial at the King's Bench, he was convicted of having enlisted men for the pretender's service, of having endeavoured to stir up a rebellion, and he received sentence of death. The circumstances of this conspiracy are not clearly known. It is said, that the intention of the conspirators was, by introducing a number of foreign officers and soldiers into England unobserved, to prepare a junction with the duke of Ormond, who was to have landed in the river with a great quantity of arms provided for that purpose. However this be, Mr. Layer was reprieved from time to time, and many methods tried to make him discover his accomplices; but he continued stedfast in his trust, so that he suffered death at Tyburn, and his head was fixed on Temple-bar.
This trial was followed by another of a different nature, in which the interests and security of the nation were more deeply concerned. It had been usual for the lords chancellors, upon being appointed to their high office, to nominate the masters in chancery; a place of some value, and consequently then purchased as commissions in the army. Some men of improper characters having been appointed to this office, and having embezzled the money of orphans and suitors lodged in their hands, a complaint was made to government, and this drew down the resentment of the ministry on the lord chancellor himself. He found it necessary to resign the seals in the beginning; but soon after the king ordered the whole affair to be laid before the house of commons.
The commons taking the affair into conderation, and finding many abuses had crept into that court, which either impeded justice, or rendered it venal, they resolved to impeach Thomas, earl of Macclesfield, at the bar of the house of lords, for high crimes and misdemeanors.
This was one of the most laborious and best contested trials in the annals of England. A bill was previously brought in to indemnify the masters in chancery from the penalties of the law, upon discovering what considerations they had paid for their admission to their respective offices. The trial lasted twenty days. The earl proved that such sums had been usually received by former lord chancellors, and reason told that such receipts were contrary to strict justice. Equity, therefore, prevailed above precedent; the earl was convicted of fraudulent practices, and condemned to a fine of thirty thousand pounds, with imprisonment, until that sum should be paid, which was accordingly discharged in about six weeks after.
In this manner, the corruption, venality, and avarice of the times, had encreased with the riches and luxury of the nation. Commerce introduced fraud, and wealth introduced prodigality. Religion, which might in some measure put a stop to these evils, was rather discouraged than promoted by the legislature. The houses of convocation, which had hitherto met purposely to inspect the morals of the people, and to maintain decency and dignity in the church, were now entirely discontinued. Their disputes among each other were assigned as the cause; but a ministry, studious of the morals of the people, would have permitted them to dispute, and kept up their zeal by their activity. But internal regulations were not what the ministry at that time attended to. The chief object of their attention was to gratify the sovereign with a continual round of foreign treaties and alliances. It was natural for a king born and bred in Germany, where all sovereignity is possessed upon such precarious tenures, to introduce the same spirit into the British constitution, however independent it might be as to the rest of Europe. This reign, therefore, was begun by treaties, and the latter part of it was burthened with them. The chief object of all was to secure to the king his dominions in Germany, and exclude the pretender from those of Britain. To effect both purposes, England paid considerable subsidies to many different states in Europe for the promise of their protection and assistance; but it most commonly happened, that the connexion was changed, or a variance ensued before ever the stipulations on either side were capable of being executed. In this reign there were concluded no less than nine treaties. The Barrier convention treaty, a defensive alliance with the emperor, the triple alliance, the convention treaty, the quadruple alliance, the congress at Cambray, the treaty of Hanover, the treaty of Vienna, and the convention with Sweden and Hesse-Cassel. All these various and expensive negociations were mere political play-things; they amused for a while, and are since neglected, the present interests and passions making new and more natural connexions.
It must be owned that the parliament made some new efforts to check the progress of vice and immorality, which now began to be diffused through every rank of life. But they were supported neither by the co-operation of the ministry, nor the voice of the people. The treaties but just concluded with Spain were already broken; for the spirit of commerce was so eager, that no restrictions could bind it. Admiral Hosier was sent to South America to intercept the Spanish galeons; but the Spaniards being apprized of his design, relanded their treasure. The greatest part of the English fleet sent on that expedition was rendered entirely unfit for service. The sea men were cut off in great numbers by the malignity of the climate, and the length of the voyage, while the admiral himself is said to have died of a broken heart. In order to retaliate these hostilities, the Spaniards undertook the siege of Gibraltar, but with as little success on their side. In this dispute, France offered her mediation, and such a reconciliation as treaties could procure was the consequence; a temporary reconciliation ensued, both sides only watching the occasion to renew hostilities with advantage.
It was now two years since the king had visited his electoral dominions of Hanover. He,
A.D.
1727
therefore, soon after the breaking up of the parliament, prepared for a journey thither. Having appointed a regency in his absence he embarked for Holland, and lay, upon his landing, at a little town called Voet. Next day he proceeded on his journey, and in two days more, between ten and eleven at night, arrived at Delden, to all appearance in perfect health. He supped there very heartily, and continued his progress early the next morning, but between eight and nine ordered his coach to stop. It being perceived that one of his hands lay motionless, Monsieur Fabrice, who had formerly been servant to the king of Sweden, and who now attended king George, attempted to quicken the circulation; by chasing it between his own. As this had no effect, the surgeon who followed on horseback, was called, and he also rubbed it with spirits. Soon after the king's tongue began to swell, and he had just strength enough to bid them hasten to Osnaburgh. Then falling insensible into Fabrice's arms, he never recovered, but expired about eleven o'clock the next morning, in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and the thirteenth of his reign.
Whatever was good or great in the reign of this monarch ought to be ascribed chiefly to himself; wherever he deviated he might have been misled by a ministry, always partial, sometimes corrupt. He was in every instance attended with good fortune, which was partly owing to accident, and more to prudent assiduity. His successes in life are the strongest instance how much may be atchieved by moderate abilities, exerted with application and uniformity.
He was married to the princess Sophia, daughter and heiress of the duke of Zell, by whom he had George II. who succeeded him, and the queen of Prussia, mother to Frederic, the present king. The king's body was conveyed to Hanover, and interred among his ancestors.
GEORGE II.
Hall sculp.
CHAP. XLV. GEORGE II.
IN treating of transactions so recent as those of the present reign, it is very difficult to steer between the partialities of mankind. To praise some, will be considered as a tacit reproach upon others; to cease entirely from censure, will be construed into paltry adulation. We stand too near the subject to be at liberty to declare all; and the historian's own prejudices are not less against him than those prejudices which he would remove in others. In such a case, therefore, the wisest, though not the most satisfactory method, will be to give a slight picture of a very busy reign; rather that part of it which posterity would wish to know, than that part which might serve to satisfy the curiosity of contending factions.
Upon the death of George the first, his son, George the second, came to the crown; a man of inferior abilities to the late king, and strongly biassed with a partiality to his dominions on the continent. Upon coming to the throne, the business of government was chiefly carried on by lord Townshend, a man of extensive knowlege, and great skill in the interests of the different states of Europe, the duke of Newcastle, a nobleman of large connexions among the great, but rather of inferior abilities, and the earl of Chesterfield, a man of wit, insinuation, and address, though rather averse to the drudgery of business. But the chief person, and he who shortly after engrossed the greatest share of power, was Sir Robert Walpole, whom we have already seen so actively employed in supporting the house of Hanover.
This gentleman had risen from low beginnings, through two successive reigns into great consideration. He was considered as a martyr to his cause, in the reign of queen Anne; and when the Tory party could no longer oppress him, he still preserved that hatred against them with which he set out. Being raised in the beginning of this reign to the head of the treasury, he probably set off by endeavouring to serve his country; but soon meeting with strong opposition, his succeeding endeavours were rather employed in keeping his situation than in adorning it. To defend the declining prerogative of the crown, might perhaps have been the first object of his attention; but soon after those very measures, by which he pretended to secure it, proved the most effectual means to lessen it. By corrupting the house of commons, he encreased their riches and their power; and they were not averse to voting away those millions which he permitted them so liberally to share. As such a tendency in him naturally produced opposition, he was possessed of a most phlegmatic insensibility to reproach, and a calm dispassionate manner of reasoning upon such topics as he desired should be believed. His discourse was fluent, but without dignity; and his manner convincing from its apparent want of art.
The house, which was hitherto distinguished into Hanoverians and Jacobites, now altered their names with their principles, and the parties on either side went by the names of the Court and the Country. Both sides had been equally active in bringing in the Hanover family, and consequently neither was much afraid of the reproach of disaffection. The court party, who were listed under the banners of the ministry, were for favouring all their schemes, and for applauding all the measures of the crown. They were taught to regard foreign alliances, and continental connexions as conducive to internal security; they considered England as unable or unfit to be trusted in defending herself, and paid the troops of other countries for their promises of future assistance. Of these, Sir Robert was the leader; and such as he could not convince by his eloquence, he undertook to buy over by places and pensions. The other side, who went by the name of the Country party, were entirely averse to continental connexions. They complained that immense sums were lavished on subsidies which could never be useful; and that alliances were bought with money from nations that should rather contribute to England for her protection. These looked upon the frequent journies of the king to Hanover with a jealous eye, and sometimes hinted at a partiality shewn in the royal breast in its favour. These were joined by the high-flying Tories, who now began to perceive their own cause desperate; and as they were leagued with men who did not fear the reproach of Jacobitism, they gave and acquired greater confidence. As the court party generally alarmed the house of commons with imaginary dangers and concealed conspiracies; so they, on the country side, generally declaimed against the encroachments of the prerogative, and the overgrown power of the crown. The complaints of neither were founded in fact, the kingdom was in no danger of invasions from abroad, or from plots at home; nor was the crown, on the other hand, gaining any accession of power, but rather every day losing somewhat of its authority by insensible diminution. The king, chiefly attentive to his foreign dominions, regarded but little his prerogative at home; and he could admit of many limitations in England, to be possessed of plenary power in dominions which he probably loved more.
There seem to be two objects of controversy which, during this whole reign, rose up in debate at every session, and tried the strength of the opponents; these were the national debt, and the number of forces to be kept in pay. The government at the accession of the present king, owed more than thirty millions of money; and though there was a long continuance of profound peace, yet this sum was continually found encreasing. It was much wondered at by the country party, how this could happen, and it was as constantly the business of the court to give plausible reasons for the encrease; and to furnish a new subject of wonder to be debated upon the session ensuing. Thus demands for new supplies were made every session of parliament, either for the purposes of securing friends upon the continent, of guarding the kingdom from internal conspiracies, or of enabling the ministry to act vigorously in conjunction with the powers in alliance abroad. It was vainly alledged, that those expences were incurred without prescience or necessity, and that the encrease of the national debt, by multiplying and encreasing taxes, would at last become an intolerable burthen. These arguments were offered, canvassed, and rejected; the court party was constantly victorious, and every demand granted with chearfulness and profusion.
The Spaniards were the first nation who shewed the futility of treaties to bind, when any advantage was to be procured by infraction. The extreme avidity of our merchants, and the natural jealousy and cruelty of that nation, produced every day encroachments on our side, and as arbitrary seizures on theirs. The people of our West-India islands, had long carried on an illicit trade with the subjects of Spain upon the continent, but whenever detected were rigorously punished, and their cargoes confiscated to the crown. In this temerity of adventure on the one hand, and vigilance of pursuit and punishment on the other, it must often have happened that the innocent must suffer with the guilty, and many complaints were made, perhaps founded in justice, that the English merchants were plundered by the Spanish king's vessels upon the southern coasts of America, as if they had been pirates.
The English ministry, unwilling to credit every report, which was enflamed by resentment, or urged by avarice, expected to remedy the evils complained of by their favourite system of treaty, and in the mean time promised the nation redress. At length, however, the complaints became more general, and the merchants remonstrated, by petition, to the house of commons, who entered into a deliberation on the subject. They examined the evidence of several who had been unjustly seized, and treated with great cruelty. One man, the master of a trading vessel, had been used by the Spaniards in the most shocking manner; he gave in his evidence with great precision, informed the house of the manner they had plundered and stript him, of their cutting off his ears, and their preparing to put him to death.
"I then looked up, cried he, to my God for pardon, and to my country for revenge."
These accounts raised a flame among the people, which it was neither the minister's interest, nor perhaps that of the nation to indulge; new negociations were set on foot, and new mediators offered their interposition. A treaty was signed at Vienna, between the emperor, the king of Great Britain, and the king of Spain, which settled the peace of Europe upon its former footing, and put off the threatening war for a time. By this treaty, the king of England conceived hopes that all war would be at an end. Don Carlos, upon the death of the duke of Parma, was, by the assistance of an English fleet, put in peaceable possession of Parma and Placentia, while six thousand Spaniards were quietly admitted, and quartered in the dutchy of Tuscany, to secure for him the reversion of that dukedom.
An interval of peace succeeded, in which scarce any events happened that deserve the rememberance of an historian. Such intervals, however, are the seasons of happiness, for history is generally little more than the register of human contention and calamity.
During this interval of profound peace, nothing remarkable happened; and scarce any contest ensued, except in the British parliament, where the disputes between the court and country party were carried on with unceasing animosity. Both sides, from moderate beginnings, at last fairly listed themselves in the cause, not of truth, but of party. Measures proposed by the ministry, though tending to the benefit of the nation, were opposed by their antagonists, who, on their side, also were abridged the power of carrying any act, how beneficial soever it might have been. A calm disinterested reader, is now surprised at the heat with which many subjects at that time, of little importance in themselves, were discussed. He now smiles at these denunciations of slavery and of ruin, which were entailed upon posterity, and which posterity did not feel. The truth is, the liberty of a nation is rather supported by the opposition, than by the speeches of the opposition; the combatants may be considered as ever standing upon guard, though they are for ever giving a false alarm.
In times of profound tranquility, the slightest occurence comes in to fill up the chasm in history. A society of men in this interested age of seeming benevolence,
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1731
had united themselves into a company, by the name of the Charitable Corporation; and their professed intention, was to lend money at legal interest to the poor, upon small pledges, and to persons of higher rank upon proper security. Their capital was at first limited to thirty thousand pounds, but they afterwards encreased it to six hundred thousand. This money was supplied by subscription, and the care of conducting the capital was intrusted to a proper number of directors. This company having continued for more than twenty years, the cashier, George Robinson, member for Marlow, and the warehouse keeper, John Thompson, disappeared in one day. Five hundred thousand pounds of capital was sound to be sunk and embezzled, by means which the proprietors could not discover. They, therefore, in a petition, represented to the house the manner in which they had been defrauded, and the distress to which many of the petitioners were reduced. A secret committee being appointed to examine into this grievance, a most iniquitous scene of fraud was soon discovered, which had been carried on by Thompson and Robinson, in concert with some of the directors, for embezzling the capital and cheating the proprietors. Many persons of rank and quality were concerned in this infamous conspiracy; and even some of the first characters in the nation did not escape censure. A spirit of avarice and rapacity had infected every rank of life about this time; no less than six members of parliament were expelled for the most sordid acts of knavery. Sir Robert Sutton, Sir Archibald Grant, and George Robinson, for their frauds in the management of the charitable corporation scheme; Dennis Bond, and Serjeant Burch, for a fraudulent sale of the late unfortunate earl of Derwenwater's large estate; and lastly, John Ward, of Hackney, for forgery. Luxury had given birth to prodigality, and that was the parent of the meanest arts of peculation. It was asserted in the house of lords, at that time, that not one shilling of the forfeited estates was ever applied to the service of the public, but became the reward of fraudulence and venality.
From this picture of avarice and luxury among the great, it is not wonderful to find instances of deplorable wretchedness among the poor. One Richard Smith, a book-binder, and his wife, had long lived together, and struggled with those wants, which, notwithstanding the profusion of the rich, pinched the lower orders of mankind. Their mutual affection was the only comfort they had in their distresses, which distresses were encreased by having a child, which they knew not how to maintain. At length, they took the desperate resolution of dying together; but previously their child's throat was cut, and the husband and wife were found hanging in their little bed-chamber. There was a letter upon the table, containing the reasons which induced them to this act of desperation; they declared they could no longer support a life of such complicated wretchedness; they recommended their dog and cat to compassion; but thought it tenderness to take their only child with them from a world, where they themselves had found so little compassion. Suicide is often imputed to frenzy. We have here an instance of self-murder concerted with composure, and borrowing the aids of reason for its vindication.
A scheme set on foot by Sir Robert Walpole soon after engrossed the attention of the public, which was to fix a general excise.
A.D.
1732
The minister introduced it into the house, by going into a detail of the frauds practised by the factors in London, who were employed by the American planters in selling their tobacco. To prevent these frauds, he proposed, that instead of having the customs levied in the usual manner upon tobacco, all hereafter to be imported should be lodged in warehouses appointed for that purpose by the officers of the crown, and should from thence be sold, upon paying the duty of four pence a pound, when the proprietor found a purchaser. This proposal raised a violent ferment, not less within doors than without. It was asserted, that it would expose the factors to such hardships that they would be unable to continue their trade, and that such a scheme would not even prevent the frauds complained of. It was added, that a number of additional excisemen and warehouse-keepers would thus be employed, which would at once render the ministry formidable, and the people dependent. Such were the arguments made use of to stir up the citizens to oppose this law; arguments rather specious than solid, since, with all its disadvantages, the tax upon tobacco would thus be more safely and expeditiously collected, and the avenues to numberless frauds would be shut up. The people, however, were raised into such a ferment, that the parliament house was surrounded with multitudes, who intimidated the ministry, and compelled them to drop the design. The miscarriage of the bill was celebrated with public rejoicings in London and Westminster, and the minister was burned in effigy by the populace of London.
The members of the opposition acquired such strength and popularity by defeating the ministry in this scheme, that they resolved to try their forces in an offensive measure, and made a motion for repealing the septennial bill, and bringing back triennal parliaments, as settled at the Revolution. In the course of this debate the country party reflected with great severity on the measures of the late reign, and the conduct of the present minister. It was alledged, that the septennial bill was an encroachment on the rights of the people, and that there was no method to overturn a wicked ministry, but by frequent changes of parliament.
"Let us suppose a man, said Sir William Wyndham, of no great family, and of but mean fortune, without any sense of honour, raised to be chief minister of state. Suppose this man raised to great wealth, the plunder of the nation, with a parliament chiefly composed of members, whose seats are purchased, and whose votes are venal. Let us suppose all attempts in such a parliament to enquire into his conduct, or relieve the nation, fruitless. Suppose him screened by a corrupt majority of his creatures, whom he retains in daily pay. Let us suppose him domineering with insolence over all men of ancient families, over all men of sense, figure, or fortune, in the nation; as he has no virtue of his own, ridiculing it in others, and endeavouring to punish or corrupt it in all. With such a minister, and such a parliament, let us suppose a case, which I hope will never happen, a prince upon the throne uninformed, ignorant, and unacquainted with the inclinations and true interests of his people; weak, capricious, transported with unbounded ambition, and possessed with insatiable avarice. I hope such a case will never occur; but as it possibly may, could any greater curse happen to a nation than such a prince advised by such a minister, and that minister supported by such a parliament? The nature of mankind cannot be altered by human laws; the existence of such a prince, or such a minister, we cannot prevent by act of parliament; but the existence of such a parliament may surely be prevented, and abridging its continuance is at least a certain remedy."
Notwithstanding the warmth of the opposition, the ministry, exerting all their strength, were victorious, and the motion was suppressed by the majority. However, as the country party seemed to grow more powerful on this occasion than formerly, it was thought fit to dissolve the parliament, and another was convoked by the same proclamation.
A.D.
1734
The leaders of both parties in the new parliament were precisely the same as in the preceding, and the same measures were pursued and opposed with similar animosity. A bill was brought in for fixing the prince of Wales's household at one hundred thousand pounds a year. This took rise among the country party, and being opposed, was thrown out by the courtiers. A scheme was proposed by Sir John Barnard for diminishing the interest on the national debt, and rejected in the same manner. But it was otherwise with a bill introduced by the ministry for subjecting the play-houses to a licenser.
The press had for some time taken the popular side of every question; and the play-houses finding most money was to be got by chiming in with the national humour, thought that exposing the ministry would procure spectators. At a little theatre in the Hay-market the ministry were every night ridiculed, and their dress and manner exactly imitated. The ingenious Mr. Henry Fielding finding that the public had no taste for new pieces of real humour, was willing to gratify their appetite for scandal, and brought on a theatrical thing, which he called Pasquin; the public applauded its severity, and the representation was crowded for several nights running, and Fielding began to congratulate himself upon his dexterity, in discarding wit from the stage, and substituting politics, which the people liked better. The abuse, however, threatened to become dangerous, and the ministry, sensible of their strength, were resolved, as they expressed it, to suppress the licentiousness of the stage. Some of the pieces exhibited at that time were not only severe, but immoral also. On this ground the ministry made their attack. Sir Robert Walpole brought in a bill to limit the number of play-houses, to subject all dramatic writings to the inspection of the lord-chamberlain, and to suppress such as he thought would have a tendency to corrupt mens morals, or obstruct government. The bill was opposed by lord Chesterfield with great eloquence; but carried by a majority determined to vote with the minister. This bill, while it confined genius on the one hand, turned it to proper objects of pursuit on the other, and the stage is at present free from the scandalous licence which infects the press; but perhaps rendered more dull from the abridgement of unlimited abuse.
New subjects of controversy offered every day; and the members on each side were ready enough to seize them. A convention agreed upon by the ministry, at the Prado, with Spain, became an object of warm altercation. By this the court of Spain agreed to pay the sum of ninety-five thousand pounds to the English, as a satisfaction for all demands upon the crown, and the subjects of that kingdom, and to discharge the whole within four months, from the day of ratification. This, however, was considered as no equivalent to the damages that had been sustained; the country party declaimed against it as a sacrifice of the interests of Great Britain to the court of Spain, and alledged that the whole of their demands should be paid, which amounted to three hundred and forty thousand pounds. The minister on this occasion was provoked into unusual vehemence. He branded the opposite party with the appellation of traitors, and expressed his hope that their behaviour would unite all the true friends of the present government in opposing their designs. The ministry on this occasion were as usual victorious; and the country party finding themselves out-voted in every debate, resolved to withdraw for ever. They had long asserted that all deliberation was useless, and debate vain, since every member had listed himself not under the banners of reason, but of party. Despairing, therefore, of being able to oppose with any hopes of conviction, and sensible of the popularity of their cause, they retired from parliament to their seats in the country, and left the ministry an undisputed majority in the house of commons.
The minister being now left without opposition, was resolved to give his opponents the the most sensible mortification, by an alteration in his conduct. He took this opportunity to render them odious, or contemptible, by passing several useful laws in their absence. At the same time the king himself laboured with equal assiduity at his favourite object of adjusting the political scale of Europe. For this purpose, he made several journies to the continent; but in the mean time a rupture of a domestic nature was likely to be attended with many inconveniences. A misunderstanding arose between the king and the prince of Wales; and as the latter was the darling of the people, his cause was seconded by all those of the country party. The prince had been a short time before married to the princess of Saxegotha, and the prince taking umbrage at the scantiness of his yearly allowance from his father, seldom visited the court. The princess had advanced to the last month of her pregnancy before the king had any notice of the event; and she was actually brought to bed of a princess, without properly acquainting the king. In consequence of this, his majesty sent his son a message, informing him, that the whole tenor of his conduct had of late been so void of real duty, that he resolved to punish him by forbidding him the court. He, therefore, signified his pleasure that he should leave St. James's with all his family, and, in consequence, the prince retired to Kew. This rupture was very favourable to the country interest, as they thus had a considerable personage equally interested with themselves to oppose the ministry. To the prince, therefore, resorted all those who formed future expectations of rising in the state, and all who had reason to be discontented with the present conduct of administration.
CHAP. XLVI. GEORGE II. (Continued.)
EVER since the treaty of Utrecht, the Spaniards in America had insulted and distressed the commerce of Great Britain, and the British merchants had attempted to carry on an illicit trade into their dominions. A right which the English merchants claimed by treaty, of cutting log-wood in the bay of Campeachy, gave them frequent opportunities of pushing in contraband commodities upon the continent; so that to suppress the evil, the Spaniards were resolved to annihilate the claim. This liberty of cutting log-wood had often been acknowledged, but never clearly ascertained; in all former treaties, it was considered as an object of too little importance to make a separate article in any negociation. The Spanish vessels appointed for protecting the coast continued their severities upon the English; many of the subjects of Britain were sent to dig in the mines of Potosi, and deprived of all means of conveying their complaints to those who might send them redress. One remonstrance followed another to the court of Madrid of this violation of treaty; but the only answer given were promises of enquiry, which produced no reformation. Our merchants complained loudly of those outrages; but the minister vainly expected from negociations that redress, which was only to be obtained by arms.
The fears discovered by the court of Great Britain only served to encrease the insolence of the enemy; and their guard ships continued to seize not only all the guilty, but the innocent, whom they found sailing along the Spanish main. At last, however, the complaints of the English merchants were loud enough to interest the house of commons; their letters and memorials were produced, and their grievances enforced by council at the bar of the house. It was soon found that the money which Spain had agreed to pay to the court of Great Britain was with-held, and no reason assigned for the delay. The minister, therefore, to gratify the general ardour, and to atone for his former deficiencies, assured the house that he would put the nation into a condition for war. Soon after letters of reprisal were granted against the Spaniards, and this being on both sides considered as an actual commencement of hostilities, both diligently set forward their armaments by sea and land. In this threatening situation, the French minister at the Hague declared that his master was obliged by treaty to assist the king of Spain; so that the alliances, which but twenty years before had taken place, were now quite reversed. At that time France and England were combined against Spain; at present, France and Spain were united against England; such little hopes can statesmen place upon the firmest treaties, where there is no superior power to compel the observance.
A rupture between England and Spain being now become unavoidable, the people, who had long clamoured for war, began to feel uncommon alacrity at its approach; and the ministry, finding it inevitable, began to be as earnest in preparation. Orders were issued for augmenting the land forces, and raising a body of marines.
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1739
War was declared with all proper solemnity, and soon after two rich Spanish prizes were taken in the Mediterranean. Admiral Vernon, a man of more courage than experience, of more confidence than skill, was sent commander of a fleet into the West Indies, to distress the enemy in that part of the globe. He had asserted in the house of Commons that Porto Belo, a fort and harbour in South America, could be easily destroyed, and that he himself would undertake to reduce it with six ships only. A project which appeared so wild and impossible, was ridiculed by the ministry; but as he still insisted upon the proposal, they complied with his request, hoping that his want of success might repress the confidence of his party. In this, however, they were disappointed; for with six ships only, he attacked and demolished all the fortifications of the place, and came away victorious, with scarce the loss of a man. This victory was magnified at home in all the strains of panegyric, and the triumph was far superior to the value of the conquest.
As the war began thus successfully, it inspired the commons to prosecute it with all imaginable vigour. The minister was granted such supplies as enabled him to equip a very powerful navy. They voted a subsidy to the king of Denmark, and impowered the king to defray some other expences not mentioned in the estimates of the year. As the preparations for war encreased in every part of the kingdom, the domestic debates and factions seemed to subside; and indeed it seems to have been the peculiar felicity of this nation, that every species of activity takes its turn to occupy the people. In a nation like this, arts and luxury, commerce and war, at certain intervals, must ever be serviceable. This vicissitude turns the current of wealth from one determined channel, and gives it a diffusive spread over the face of the country; it is at one time diverted to the laborious and frugal, at another to the brave, active, and enterprizing. Thus all orders of mankind find encouragement, and the nation becomes composed of individuals, who have art to acquire property, and who have courage to defend it.
While vigorous preparations were making in other departments, a squadron of ships was equipped for distressing the enemy in the South seas, the command of which was given to commodore Anson. This fleet was destined to sail through the streights of Magellan, and steering northwards along the coasts Chili and Peru, to co-operate occasionly with admiral Vernon across the isthmus of Darien. The delays and mistakes of the ministry frustrated that part of the scheme, which was originally well laid. When it was too late in the season, the commodore set out with five ships of the line, a frigate, and two store-ships, with about fourteen hundred men. Having reached the coasts of Brazil, he refreshed his men for some time on the island of St. Catharine, a spot that enjoys all the fruitfulness and verdure of the luxurious tropical climate. From thence he steered downward into the cold and tempestuous regions of the south; and in about five months after, meeting a terrible tempest, he doubled Cape Horn. By this time his fleet was dispersed, and his crew deplorably disabled with the scurvy; so that with much difficulty he gained the delightful island of Juan Fernandez. There he was joined by one ship, and a frigate of seven guns. From thence advancing northward, he landed on the coast of Chili, and attacked the city of Paita by night. In this bold attempt he made no use of his shipping, nor even disembarked all his men; a few soldiers, favoured by darkness, sufficed to fill the whole town with terror and confusion. The governor of the garrison, and the inhabitants, fled on all sides; accustomed to be severe, they expected severity. In the mean time, a small body of the English kept possession of the town for three days, stripping it of all its treasures and merchandise to a considerable amount, and then setting it on fire.
Soon after this small squadron advanced as far as Panama, situated on the isthmus of Darien, on the western side of the great American continent. The commodore now placed all his hopes in taking one of those valuable Spanish ships, which trade from the Philippine Islands to Mexico. Not above one or two at the most of these immensely rich ships went from one continent to the other in a year; they were, therefore, very large, in order to carry a sufficiency of treasure, and proportionably strong to defend it. In hopes of meeting with one of these, the commodore, with his little fleet, traversed the great Pacific Ocean; but the scurvy once more visiting his crew, several of his men died, and almost all were disabled. In this exigence having brought all his men into one vessel, and set fire to the other, he steered for the island of Tinian, which lies about half way between the new world and the old. In this charming abode he continued for some time, till his men recovered their health, and his ship was resitted for sailing.
Thus refreshed he set forward for China, where he laid in proper stores for once more traversing back that immense ocean in which he had just before suffered such immense difficulties. Having accordingly taken some Dutch and Indian sailors on board, he again steered towards America, and at length, after various toils, discovered the Spanish galleon he had so long ardently expected. This vessel was built as well for the purposes of war as of merchandise. It mounted sixty guns, and five hundred men, while the crew of the commodore did not amount to half that number. However the victory was on the side of the English, and they returned home with their immense prize, which was estimated at three hundred and thirteen thousand pounds sterling, while the different captures that had been made before amounted to as much more. Thus after a voyage of three years, conducted with amazing perseverance and intrepidity, the public sustained the loss of a noble fleet; but a few individuals became possessed of immense riches.
In the mean time the English conducted other operations against the enemy with amazing activity. When Anson set out it was with a design of acting a subordinate part to a formidable armament designed for the coasts of New Spain, consisting of twenty-nine ships of the line, and almost an equal number of frigates, furnished with all kinds of warlike stores, near fifteen thousand seamen, and as many land-forces. Never was a fleet more completely equipped, nor never had the nation more sanguine hopes of success. Lord Cathcart was appointed to command the landforces; but he dying on the passage, the command devolved upon general Wentworth, whose abilities were supposed to be unequal to the trust reposed in him. The ministry, without any visible reason, detained the fleet in England, until the season for action in America was nearly over. In the country where they were to carry on their operations, periodical rains begin about the end of April, and this change in the climate as surely bring on epidemical and contagious diseases. Having at length arrived on the coasts of New Spain, before the wealthy city of Carthagena, they landed their forces, in order to form the siege of this important fortification. This city, which lies within sixty miles of Panama, serves as a magazine for the merchandise of Spain, which is conveyed from Europe thither, and from thence transported by land to Panama, to be exchanged for the native commodities of the new world. The taking of Carthagena, therefore, would have obstructed the whole trade between Old Spain and the New.
To carry on the siege with safety, the troops were landed on the island Tierra Bomba, near the mouth of the harbour, which had been previously fortified by all the arts of engineering. The land-forces erected a battery on shore, with which they made a breach in the principal fort, while Vernon, who commanded the fleet, sent a number of ships into the harbour, to divide the fire of the enemy, and to co-operate with the army on shore. The breach being deemed practicable, a body of troops were commanded to storm; but the Spaniards deserted the forts, which, if possessed of courage, they might have defended with success. The troops, upon gaining this advantage, were advanced a good deal nearer the city; but they there met a much greater opposition than they had expected. It was found, or asserted, that the fleet could not lie near enough to batter the town, and that nothing remained but to attempt one of the forts by scaling. The leaders of the fleet and the army began mutually to accuse each other, each asserting the probability of what the other denied. At length, Wentworth, stimulated by the admiral's reproach, resolved to try the dangerous experiment, and ordered that fort St. Lazare should be attempted by scalade. Nothing could be more unfortunate than this undertaking; the forces marching up to the attack, their guides were slain, and they mistook their way. Instead of attempting the weakest part of the fort, they advanced to where it was strongest, and where they were exposed to the fire of the town. Colonel Grant, who commanded the grenadiers, was killed in the beginning. Soon after it was found that their scaling ladders were too short; the officers were perplexed for want of orders, and the troops stood exposed to the whole fire of the enemy, without knowing how to proceed. After bearing a dreadful fire for some hours with great intrepidity, they at length retreated leaving six hundred men dead on the spot. The terrors of the climate soon began to be more dreadful than those of war; the rainy season began with such violence, that it was impossible for the troops to continue encamped; and the mortality of the season now began to attack them in all its frightful varieties. To these calamities, sufficient to quell any enterprize, was added the dissension between the land and sea commanders, who blamed each other for every failure, and became frantic with mutual recrimination. They only, therefore, at last could be brought to agree in one mortifiying measure, which was to reimbark the troops, and to withdraw them as quick as possible from this scene of slaughter and contagion.
The fortifications near the barbour being demolished, the troops were conveyed back to Jamaica, and this island, which of itself is sufficiently unhealthy, was considered as a paradise to that from which they had just escaped. This fatal miscarriage, which tarnished the British glory, was no sooner known in England, than the kingdom was filled with murmurs and discontent. The loudest burst of indignation was directed at the minister; and they who once praised him for successes he did not merit, condemned him now for a failure, of which he was guiltless.
To this cause of complaint, several others were added. The inactivity of the English fleet at home was among the principal. Sir John Norris had twice sailed to the coasts of Spain, at the head of a very powerful squadron, without taking any effectual step to annoy the enemy. The Spanish privateers, become numerous and enterprizing, annoyed commerce with great success, having taken since the commencement of the war, four hundred and seven ships belonging to the subjects of Great Britain. The English though at an immense expence in equipping fleets, seemed to lie down unrevenged under every blow, and suffered one loss after another without reprisal. This universal discontent had a manifest influence upon the general election which followed soon after;
A.D.
1741
and the complaints against the minister became so general, that he began to tremble for his safety. All the adherents of the prince of Wales, who continued to live retired from court, as private gentleman, concurred in the opposition. Obstinate struggles were maintained in all parts of the kingdom; and such a national spirit prevailed, that the country interest now at last seemed ready to preponderate.
In this situation, the minister finding the strength of the house of commons turned against him, tried every art to break that confederacy, which he knew he had not strength to oppose. His first attempt was by endeavouring to disengage the prince from his party, by promises of royal favour, and other emoluments. The bishop of Oxford was accordingly sent to him, with an offer, that if he would write a letter of submission to the king, he and all his counsellors should be taken into favour; fifty thousand pounds should be added to his revenue, two hundred thousand should be granted him to pay his debts, and suitable provision should be made in due time for all his followers. This, to a person already involved in debt, from the scantiness of his pension, and the necessity of keeping up his indignity, was a tempting offer. However, the prince generously disdained it, declaring he would accept of no conditions dictated to him under the influence of a minister, whose measures he disapproved.
Walpole now saw that his power was at an end; but he still feared more for his person. The resentment of the people had been raised against him to an extravagant height; and their leaders taught them to expect very signal justice on their supposed oppressor. The first occasion he had to find the house of commons turned against him was in debating upon some disputed elections. In the first of these, which was heard at the bar of the house, he carried his point by a majority of six only, and this he looked upon as a defeat, rather than a victory. The inconsiderable majority that appeared on his side, which had long been used to carry every question with ease, plainly proved that his friends were no longer able to protect him. A petition, presented by the electors of Westminster, complaining of an undue election, which had been carried on by the unjust influence of the ministry, and which they begged to set aside, was presented to the house. Sir Robert laboured with all his art to over-rule their petition; the house entered into the discussion, and carried it against him by a majority of four voices. He resolved to try his strength once more in another disputed election, and had the mortification to see the majority against him augmented to sixteen. He then declared he would never sit more in that house; and the next day the king adjourned both houses of parliament for a few days, and in the interim Sir Robert Walpole, was created earl of Orford, and resigned all his employments.
Nothing could give the people more general satisfaction than this minister's deposition. It was now universally expected that his power being abridged, his punishment was to follow; and mankind prepared themselves for some tragical event with vindictive satisfaction. Every person now flattered himself, that every domestic grievance would be redressed; that commerce would be protected abroad; that the expensive subsidies to foreign states would be retrenched, and that the house of commons would be unaminous in every popular measure. But they soon found themselves miserably deceived. Those who clamoured most against him, when put into power, began exactly to adopt all his measures.
At no time of life did this minister acquit himself with such art as on the present occasion. The country party consisted of Tories, reinforced by discontented Whigs; the former, implacable in their resentments against him, could not be mollified; the latter, either soured by disappoinment, or incited by ambition, only wished his removal. To these, therefore, Walpole applied, and was willing to grant them that power they aimed at, in return for which he only demanded impunity. The offer was accepted with pleasure; their Tory friends were instantly abandoned; and a breach thus ensuing, the same opposition still continued against the new ministry, that had obtained against the old.
The place of chancellor of the Exchequer was bestowed on Mr. Sandys, who was likewise appointed a lord of the treasury. Lord Harrington was declared president of the council; and in his room lord Carteret became secretary of state. Mr. Pulteney was sworn of the privy-council, and afterwards created earl of Bath. The reconciliation between the king and the prince of Wales took place soon after; and the change in the ministry was celebrated by rejoicings over the whole nation.
But this transport was of short duration; it soon appeared that those who declaimed most loudly for the liberties of the people, had adopted new measures with their new employments. The new converts were branded as betrayers of the interests of their country; but particularly the resentment of the people fell upon the earl of Bath, who had long declaimed against that very conduct he now seemed earnest to pursue. He had been the idol of the people, and considered as one of the most illustrious champions that had ever defended the cause of freedom; but allured perhaps with the hope of governing in Walpole's place, he was contented to give up his popularity for ambition. The king, however, treated him with that neglect which he merited; he was laid aside for life, and continued a wretched survivor of all his former importance.
The war with Spain had now continued for several years, and was attended with but indifferent fortune. Some unsuccessful expeditions had been carried on in the West-Indies, under admiral Vernon, commodore Knowles, and others; and the failure of these was still more aggravated by the political writers of the day; a class of beings that had risen up during this and the preceding administration, at first employed against Walpole, and afterwards taken into pay by him. Dull, and without principle, they made themselves agreeable to the public by impudence and abuse, embarrassed every operation, and embittered every misfortune. These had for some time disgusted the nation of their operations by sea, and taught them to wish for better fortune on land. The people became ripe for renewing their victories in Flanders, and the king desired nothing with so much ardour. It was resolved, therefore, to send a powerful body of men into the Netherlands to join in the quarrels that were beginning on the continent; and immense triumphs were expected from such an undertaking, which the king resolved to conduct in person.
An army of sixteen thousand men were therefore shipped over into Flanders, and the war with Spain became but an object of secondary consideration.
CHAP. XLVII. GEORGE II. (Continued.)
TO have a clear, yet concise idea of the origin of the troubles on the continent, it will be necessary to go back for some years, and trace the measures of the European republic from that period where we left them in our former narrative. After the duke of Orleans, who had been regent of France, died, cardinal Fleury undertook to settle the great confusion in which that luxurious prince had left the kingdom. His moderation and prudence were equally conspicuous; he was sincere, frugal, modest, and simple: under him, therefore, France repaired her losses, and enriched herself by commerce; he only left the state to its own natural methods of thriving, and he saw it every day assuming its former health and vigour.
During the long interval of peace, which this minister's councils had procured for Europe, two powers, till now unregarded, began to attract the notice and jealousy of the neighbouring nations. Peter the Great had already civilized Russia, and this new created extensive empire began to influence the councils of other nations, and to give laws to the North. The other power that came into notice, was that of the king of Prussia, whose dominions were compact and populous, and whose forces were well maintained and ready for action.
The other states were but little improved for the purposes of renewing the war. The empire remained under the government of Charles the sixth, who had been placed upon the throne by the treaty of Utrecht. Sweden continued to languish, being not yet recovered from the destructive projects of her darling monarch, Charles the twelfth. Denmark was powerful enough, but inclined to peace; and part of Italy still remained subject to those princes who had been imposed upon it by foreign treaties.
All these states, however, continued to enjoy a profound peace, until the death of Augustus, king of Poland, by which a general flame was once more kindled in Europe. The emperor, assisted by the arms of Russia, declared for the elector of Saxony, son to the deceased king. On the other hand, France declared for Stanislaus, who long since had been nominated king of the Poles by Charles of Sweden, and whose daughter the king of France had since married. In order to drive forward his pretensions, Stanislaus repaired to Dantzick, where the people very gladly received him. But his triumph was short; ten thousand Russians appearing before the place, the Polish nobility dispersed, and Stanislaus was besieged by this small body of forces. But though the city was taken, the king escaped with some difficulty by night; and fifteen hundred men, that were sent to his assistance, were made prisoners of war. France, however, resolved to continue her assistance to him, and this it was supposed would be most effectually done by distressing the house of Austria.
The views of France were seconded by Spain and Sardinia, both having hopes to grow more powerful by a division of the spoils of Austria. A French army, therefore, soon over-ran the empire, under the conduct of old marshal Villars; while the duke of Montemar, the general of Spain, was equally victorious in the kingdom of Naples. Thus the emperor had the mortification to see his own dominions ravaged, and a great part of Italy torn from him, only for having attempted to give a king to Poland.
These rapid successes of France and its allies, soon compelled the emperor to demand a peace. It was accordingly granted him; but Stanislaus, upon whose account the war was begun, was neglected in the treaty. It was stipulated that he should renounce all claim to the crown of Poland, for which the emperor gratified France with the dutchy of Lorraine, and some other valuable territories.
The emperor dying in the year 1740, the French began to think this a favourable opportunity for exerting their ambition once more. Regardless of treaties, particularly that called the pragmatic sanction, by which the reversion of all the late emperor's dominions was settled upon his daughter, they caused the elector of Bavaria to be crowned emperor. Thus the queen of Hungary, daughter of Charles the sixth, descended from an illustrious line of emperors, saw herself stripped of her inheritance, and left for a whole year deserted by all Europe, and without any hopes of succour. She had scarce closed her father's eyes, when she lost Silesia, by an irruption of the young king of Prussia, who seized the opportunity of her defenceless state to renew his ancient pretensions to that province, of which it must be owned his ancestors had been unjustly deprived. France, Saxony, and Bavaria, attacked the rest of her dominions; England was the only ally that seemed willing to espouse her helpless condition. Sardinia, and Holland, soon after came to her assistance, and last of all Russia acceded to the union in her favour.
It may now be demanded, what cause Britain had to intermeddle in these continental schemes. It can only be answered, that the interests of Hanover, and the security of that electorate, depended upon the nicely balancing the different interests of the empire; and the English ministry were willing to gratify the king. Lord Carteret, who had now taken up that place in the royal confidence which had formerly been possessed by Walpole, by pursuing these measures soothed the wishes of his master, and opened a more extensive field for his own ambition. He expected to receive honour from victories which he seemed certain of obtaining; and desired to engage in measures which must be injurious to the nation, even though attended with desired success.
When the parliament met, his majesty began by informing them of his strict adherence to engagements; and that he had sent a body of English forces into the Netherlands, which he had augmented by sixteen thousand Hanoverians, to make a diversion upon the dominions of France, in the queen of Hungary's favour. When the supplies came to be considered, by which this additional number of Hanoverian troops was to be paid by England for defending their own cause, it produced most violent debates in both houses of parliament. It was considered as an imposition upon the nation, as an attempt to pay foreign troops for fighting their own battles, and the ministry were pressed by their own arguments against such measures before they came into power. They were not ashamed, however, upon this occasion, boldly to defend what they so violently impugned; and at length, by the strength of numbers, and not of reason, they carried their cause.
The people now saw, with indignation, their former defenders turned against themselves; patriotism they began to consider as an empty name, and knew not on whom to rely, since the boldest professors of liberty were purchased at an easy rate. But however these continental measures might injure the real interests of the nation, they for that time served to retrieve the queen of Hungary's desperate affairs. She soon began to turn the scale of victory on her side. The French were driven out of Bohemia. Her general, prince Charles, at the head of a large army, invaded the dominions of Bavaria. Her rival, the nominal emperor, was obliged to fly before her; and being abandoned by his allies, and stripped of even his hereditary dominions, retired to Franckfort, where he lived in obscurity.
The French, who had begun as allies, were now obliged to sustain the whole burthen of the war, and accordingly faced their enemies invading them on every side of their dominions. The troops sent to the queen's assistance by England were commanded by the earl of Stair, an experienced general, who had learned the art of war under the famous prince Eugene. The chief object which he had in view in the beginning was to effect a junction with the queen's army, commanded by prince Charles of Lorrain, and thus to out-number the enemy in the field. The French, in order to prevent this junction, assembled an army of sixty thousand men upon the river Mayne, under the command of marshal Noailles,
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1743
who posted his troops upon the east side of that river. The British forces, to the number of forty thousand, pushed forward on the other side into a country, where they found themselves entirely destitute of provisions, the French having cut off all means of their being supplied with any. The king of England arrived at the camp, while his army was in this deplorable situation, wherefore he resolved to penetrate forward to join twelve thousand Hanoverians and Hessians, who had reached Hannau. With this view he decamped; but before his army had marched three leagues, he found the enemy had enclosed him on every side, near a village called Dettingen.
Nothing now presented but the most mortifying prospects; if he fought the enemy, it must be at the greatest disadvantage; if he continued inactive, there was a certainty of being starved; and as for all retreat that was impossible. The impetuosity of the French troops saved his whole army. They passed a defile, which they should have been contented to guard; and under the conduct of the duke of Gramont, their horse charged the English foot with great fury. They were received, however, with intrepidity and resolution; so that they were obliged to give way, and repass the Mayne with precipitation, with the loss of about five thousand men. The king of England, with great personal courage, exposed himself to a severe fire of the enemies cannon; and in the midst of the engagement encouraged his troops by his presence and his example. The English had the honour of the day; but were soon obliged to leave the field of battle, which was taken possession of by the French, who treated the wounded English with a clemency peculiar to that generous nation. Though the English were victorious upon this occasion, yet the earl of Stair, who was commander in chief, did not assume any honour from such a victory. He was unwilling to share any glory, which was so precariously obtained, and snatched rather from the enemies mistake, than gained by his conduct. He therefore sollicited for leave to resign, which obtaining, the troops were led into quarters, and desisted from farther operations that campaign.
Mean while the French went on with vigour on every side. They opposed prince Charles, and interrupted his attempts to pass the Rhine. They gained also some successes in Italy; but their chief hopes were placed upon a projected invasion of England. Cardinal Fleury was now dead; and cardinal Tencin, who succeeded him in power, was a man of a very different character from his predecessor; being proud, turbulent, and enterprising. France, from the violence of the parliamentary disputes in England, had been persuaded that the country was long ripe for a revolution, and only wanted the presence of a pretender to bring about the change. Several needy adventurers, who wished for a revolution, some men of broken fortunes, and all the Roman catholics of the kingdom, endeavoured to confirm the court of France in these sentiments, of which they themselves were persuaded. An invasion therefore was actually projected; and Charles, the son of the old pretender, departed from Rome in the disguise of a Spanish courier, for Paris, where he had an audience of the French king.
This family had long been the dupes of France; but it was thought at present there were serious resolutions formed in their favour. The troops destined for the expedition amounted to fifteen thousand men, preparations were made for embarking them at Dunkirk, and some of the nearest ports to England, under the eye of the young pretender. The duke de Roquefuille, with twenty ships of the line, was to see them safely landed in England, and the famous count Saxe was to command them, when put on shore. But the whole project was disconcerted by the appearance of Sir John Norris, who, with a superior fleet, made up to attack them. The French fleet was thus obliged to put back; a very hard gale of wind damaged their transports beyond redress; and the French, now frustrated in their scheme of a sudden descent, thought fit openly to declare war.
But though fortune seemed to favour England on this occasion, yet in other respects she was not equally propitious. The English ministry had sent out a powerful squadron of ships into the Mediterranean to over-awe those states who might be inclined to lend assistance to France or Spain. This fleet had been conducted by Lestock; but admiral Matthews, though a younger officer, was sent out to take the superior command, which produced a misunderstanding between the commanders. There was soon an opportunity offered for these officers to discover their mutual animosity, to the damage of their country, and their own disgrace. The combined fleets of France and Spain, to the number of four and thirty sail, were seen off Toulon, and a signal was made by the English admiral to prepare for engaging. It happened that his signals were not perfectly exact; he had hung out that for forming the line of battle, which at the same time shewed the signal for engaging. This was a sufficient excuse to Lestock for refusing to come up with alacrity; so that after some vain efforts to attack the enemy in conjunction, Matthews resolved to engage as well as he could. One ship of the line belonging to the Spanish squadron struck to captain Hawke; but was next day burned by the admiral's order. Captain Cornwall was killed in the engagement, after continuing to give command, even while his leg was shot off by a cannon. The pursuit was continued for three days, at the end of which time Lestock seemed to come up with some vigour; but just then Matthews gave orders for discontinuing the pursuit, and sailed away for Port Mahon to repair the damage he had sustained. The English fleet was willing to claim the victory; and the French and Spaniards were not less pleased with their own good fortune. In England, however, this disputed success was considered as the most mortifying defeat, and the complaints of the people knew no bounds. Both admirals, upon their return, were tried by a court-martial. Matthews, who had fought with intrepidity, was declared for the future incapable of serving in his majesty's navy. Lestock, who had kept at a distance, was acquitted with honour, having entrenched himself within the punctilios of discipline. He barely did his duty. A man of honour, when his country is at stake, should do more.
The proceedings of the Netherlands were as unfavourable to the English arms as their most sanguine enemies could desire. The French had assembled a formidable army of one hundred and twenty thousand men, the chief command of which was given to count Saxe, natural son to the late king of Poland, and who had long been a soldier of fortune. He had been bred from his youth in camps, and had shewn very early instances of cool intrepidity. He had in the beginning of the war offered his services to several crowns; and among others, it is said, to the king of Great Britain; but his offers were rejected. By long habit this general had learned to preserve an equal composure in the midst of battle, and seemed as serene in the thickest fire, as in the drawing-room at court. To oppose this great general, the English were headed by the duke of Cumberland, who neither possessed such talents for war, nor was able to bring such a formidable body of men into the field.
The French, therefore, bore down all before them. They besieged Fribourg, and in the beginning of the succeeding campaign invested the strong city of Tournay. Altho' the allies were inferior in number, and although commanded by the duke of Cumberland, yet they resolved, if possible, to save this city by hazarding a battle. They accordingly marched against the enemy, and took post in sight of the French, who were encamped on an eminence, the village of St. Antoine on the right, a wood on the left, and the town of Fontenoy before them. This advantageous situation did not repress the ardour of the English, who began the attack at two o'clock in the morning, and pressing forward bore down all opposition. They were for near an hour victorious, and confident of success, while Saxe, who commanded the enemy, was at that time sick of the same disorder of which he afterwards died. However he was carried about to all the posts in a litter, and assured his attendants that, notwithstanding all unfavourable appearances, the day was his own. A column of the English, without any command, but by mere mechanical courage, had advanced upon the enemies lines, which opening, formed an avenue on each side to receive them. It was then that the French artillery on three sides began to play upon this forlorn body, which, though they continued for a long time unshaken, were obliged at last to retreat about three in the afternoon. This was one of the most bloody battles that had been fought in this age; the allies left on the field of battle near twelve thousand men, and the French bought their victory with near an equal number of slain.
This blow, by which Tournay was taken by the French, gave them such a manifest superiority all the rest of the campaign, that they kept the fruits of their victory during the whole continuance of the war. The duke of Bavaria, whom they had made emperor under the title of Charles the seventh, was lately dead; but though his pretensions were the original cause of the war, that by no means was discontinued at his decease. The grand duke of Tuscany, husband to the queen of Hungary, was declared emperor in his room; and though the original cause of the quarrel was no more, the dissensions still continued as fierce as ever.
A.D.
1745
But though bad success attended the British arms by land and sea, yet these being distant evils, the English seemed only to complain from honourable motives, and murmured at distresses, of which they had but a very remote prospect. A civil war was now going to be kindled in their own dominions, which mixed terrors with their complaints; and which while it encreased their perplexities, only cemented their union. The intended French invasion had rouzed all the attention of the people, and nothing breathed throughout the whole kingdom but the destruction of a popish pretender, assisted by French counsels and arms. The disappointment of that expedition served to encrease the hatred of the people against the pretender still more, as it shewed that he was willing to be made a king, even by the open enemies of his country. The people, therefore, were never so ill disposed to receive him, as at the very time he pitched upon to make a descent.
The ministry was by this time changed, the lords Harrington, Chesterfield, and Mr. Pelham, being placed at the head of affairs; these enjoyed some share of popularity, and the operations of war were no longer thwarted by a turbulent opposition. The admirals Rowley and Warren had retrieved the honour of the British flag, and made several rich captures at sea. The fortress of Louisburg, in the island of Cape Breton, on the coasts of North America, a place of great consequence to the British commerce, surrendered to general Peperell, while a short time after two French East India ships, and a Spanish ship from Peru, laden with treasure, put into the harbour, supposing it still their own, and were taken.
It was at this period of returning success, that the son of the old pretender resolved to make an effort for gaining the British crown. Charles Edward, the adventurer in question, had been bred in a luxurious court, without partaking in its effeminacy. He was enterprizing and ambitious; but either from experience, or natural inability, utterly unequal to the bold undertaking. He was long flattered by the rash, the superstitious, and the needy; he was taught to believe that the kingdom was ripe for a revolt, and that it could no longer bear the immense load of taxes with which it was burthened.
Being now, therefore, furnished with some money, and with still larger promises from France, who fanned his ambition, he embarked for Scotland on board a small frigate, accompanied by the marquis of Tullibardine, Sir Thomas Sheridan, and a few other desperate adventurers. Thus, for the conquest of the whole British empire, he only brought with him seven officers, and arms for two thousand men.
Fortune, which ever persecuted his family, seemed no way more favourable to him; for his convoy, a ship of sixty guns, was so disabled in an engagement with an Englishman of war, named the Lion, that it was obliged to return to Brest, while he continued his course to the Western parts of Scotland, and landing on the coast of Lochaber,
was in a little time joined by some chiefs of the Highland clans, and their vassals, over whom they exercised an hereditary jurisdiction. By means of these chiefs he soon saw himself at the head of fifteen hundred men, and invited others to join him by his manifestoes, which were dispersed all over the kingdom.
The boldness of this enterprize astonished all Europe. It awakened the fears of the pufilanimous, the ardour of the brave, and the pity of the wise. The whole kingdom seemed unanimously bent upon opposing an enterprize, which they were sensible, as being supported by papists, would be instrumental in restoring popery. The ministry was no sooner confirmed in the account of his arrival, which at first they could be scarcely induced to credit, than Sir John Cope was sent with a small body of forces to oppose his progress.
By this time the young adventurer was arrived at Perth, where the unnecessary ceremony was performed of proclaiming his father king of Great Britain. From thence, descending with his forces from the mountains, they seemed to gather as they went forward; and advancing to Edinburgh, they entered that city without opposition. There again the pageantry of proclamation was performed; and there he promised to dissolve the union, which was considered as one of the grievances of the country. However, the castle of that city still held out, and he was unprovided with cannon to besiege it.
In the mean time, Sir John Cope, who had pursued the rebels through the Highlands, but had declined meeting them in their descent; being now reinforced by two regiments of dragoons, resolved to march towards Edinburgh, and give the enemy battle. The young adventurer, whose forces were rather superior, though undisciplined, attacked him near Preston Pans, about twelve miles from the capital, and in a few minutes put him and his troops to flight. This victory, by which the king lost five hundred men, gave the rebels great influence; and had the pretender taken advantage of the general consternation, and marched directly for England, the consequence might have been fatal to freedom. But he was amused by the promise of succours which never came; and thus induced to remain in Edinburgh, to enjoy the triumphs of a trifling victory, and to be treated as a monarch. By this time his train was composed of the earl of Kilmarnock, a man of desperate fortune, who had lately become discontented with the court for withdrawing a pension he was granted. Lord Balmerino, who had been an officer in the English service, but gave up his commission, in order to join the rebels. The lords, Cromarty, Elcho, Ogilvy, Pitsligo, and the eldest son of lord Lovat, who came in with their vassals, and encreased his army. Lord Lovat himself was an enthusiast in the cause; but being without principles, he was unwilling to act openly, afraid of incurring the resentment of the ministry, whom he still dreaded. Never was there a man of such unaccountable ambition, or who ever more actively rendered himself hateful and suspected by all. He was at first outlawed for ravishing the duke of Argyle's niece. He then offered his service to the old pretender in France, and it was accepted. He next betrayed the forces which were sent to his assistance to queen Anne. He a second time invited the pretender over in the reign of George the first, and being put in possession, by the chevalier, of the castle of Stirling, he once more betrayed it into the hands of the enemy. This man, true to neither party, had now, in secret, sent aid to the young chevalier, while, in his conversation, he affected to declaim against his attempt.
While the young pretender was thus trifling away his time at Edinburgh, for, in dangerous enterprizes, delay is but defeat, the ministry of Great Britain took every proper precaution to oppose him with success. Six thousand Dutch troops, that had come over to the assistance of the crown, were dispatched northward, under the command of general Wade; but, as it was then said, these could lend no assistance, as they were prisoners of France upon parole, and under engagements not to oppose that power for the space of one year. However this be, the duke of Cumberland soon after arrived from Flanders, and was followed by another detachment of dragoons and infantry, well disciplined, and enured to action. Besides these, volunteers offered in every part of the kingdom; and every county exerted a vigorous spirit of indignation both against the ambition, the religion, and the allies of the young pretender.
However, he had been bred up in a school that taught him maxims very different from those that then prevailed in England. Tho' he might have brought civil war and all the calamities attending it with him into the kingdom, he had been taught the assertion of his right was a duty incumbent upon him, and the altering the constitution and perhaps the religion of his country an object of laudable ambition. Thus animated he went forward with vigour, and having, upon frequent consultations with his officers, come to a resolution of making an irrruption into England, he entered the country by the western border, and invested Carlisle, which surrendered in less than three days. He there found a considerable quantity of arms, and there too he procured his father to be proclaimed king.
General Wade being apprized of his progress, advanced across the country from the opposite shore, but receiving intelligence that the enemy was two days march before him, he retired to his former station. The young pretender, therefore, thus unopposed, resolved to penetrate farther into the kingdom, having received assurances from France that a considerable body of troops would be landed on the southern coasts, to make a diversion in his favour. He was flattered also with the hopes of being joined by a considerable number of malcontents, as he passed forward, and that his army would encrease on the march. Accordingly, leaving a small garrison in Carlisle, which he should rather have left defenceless, he advanced to Penrith, marching on foot in an Highland dress, and continuing his irruption till he came to Manchester, where he established his headquarters.
He was there joined by about two hundred English, who were formed into a regiment, under the command of colonel Townly. From thence he pursued his march to Derby, intending to go by the way of Chester into Wales, where he hoped to be joined by a great number of followers; but the factions among his own chiefs prevented his proceeding to that part of the kingdom.
He was by this time advanced within an hundred miles of the capital, which was filled with perplexity and consternation. Had he proceeded in his career with that expedition which he had hitherto used, he might have made himself master of the metropolis, where he would certainly have been joined by a considerable number of his well-wishers, who waited impatiently for his approach.
In the mean time the king resolved to take the field in person. The volunteers of the city were incorporated into a regiment; the practitioners of the law agreed to take the field, with the judges at their head; and even the managers of the theatres offered to raise a body of their dependents for the service of their country. These associations were at once a proof of the people's fears and their loyalty; while those concerned in the money-corporations were overwhelmed with dejection. But they found safety from the discontents, which now began to prevail in the pretender's army. In fact, he was but the nominal leader of his forces; as his generals, the chiefs of the Highland clans, were, from their education, ignorant, and averse to subordination. They had from the beginning begun to embrace opposite systems of operation, and to contend with each other for pre-eminence; but they seemed now unanimous in returning to their own country once more.
The rebels accordingly effected their retreat to Carlisle without any loss, and from thence crossed the rivers Eden and Solway into Scotland. In these marches, however, they preserved all the rules of war; they abstained in a great measure from plunder, they levied contributions on the towns as they passed along, and with unaccountable precaution left a garrison in Carlisle, which shortly after was obliged to surrender to the duke of Cumberland at discretion, to the number of four hundred men.
The Pretender being returned to Scotland, he proceeded to Glasgow, from which city he exacted severe contributions. He advanced from thence to Stirling, where he was joined by lord Lewis Gordon, at the head of some forces, which had been assembled in his absence. Other clans, to the number of two thousand, came in likewise; and from some supplies of money, which he received from Spain, and from some skirmishes, in which he was successful against the royalists, his affairs began to wear a more promising aspect. Being joined by lord Drummond, he invested the castle of Stirling, commanded by general Blakeney; but the rebel forces being unused to sieges, consumed much time to no purpose. It was during this attempt, that general Hawley, who commanded a considerable body of forces near Edinburgh, undertook to raise the siege, and advanced towards the rebel army as far as Falkirk. After two days spent in mutually examining each other's strength, the rebels being ardent to engage, were led on in full spirits to attack the king's army. The Pretender, who was in the front line, gave the signal to engage; and the first fire put Hawley's forces into confusion. The horse retreated with precipitation, and fell upon their own infantry; while the rebels following their blow, the greatest part of the royal army fled with the utmost precipitation. They retired in confusion to Edinburgh, leaving the conquerors in possession of their tents, their artillery, and the field of battle.
Thus far the affairs of the rebel army seemed not unprosperous; but here was an end of all their triumphs. The duke of Cumberland, at that time the favourite of the English army, had been recalled from Flanders, and put himself at the head of the troops at Edinburgh, which consisted of about fourteen thousand men. With these he advanced to Aberdeen, where he was joined by several of the Scotch nobility, attached to the house of Hanover; and having revived the drooping spirits of his army, he resolved to find out the enemy, who retreated at his approach. After having refreshed his troops at Aberdeen, for some time he renewed his march, and in twelve days he came upon the banks of the deep and rapid river Spey. This was the place where the rebels might have disputed his passage, but they lost every advantage in disputing with each other. They seemed now totally devoid of all counsel and subordination, without conduct, and without unanimity. After a variety of contests among each other, they resolved to await their pursuers upon the plains of Culloden, a place about nine miles distant from Inverness, embosomed in hills, except on that side which was open to the sea. There they drew up in order of battle, to the number of eight thousand men, in three divisions, supplied with some pieces of artillery, ill manned and served.
The battle began about one o'clock in the afternoon; the cannon of the king's army did dreadful execution among the rebels, while theirs was totally unserviceable. One of the great errors in all the pretender's warlike measures, was his subjecting wild and undisciplined troops to the forms of artful war, and thus repressing their native ardour, from which alone he could hope for success. After they had been kept in their ranks, and withstood the English fire for some time, they at length became impatient for closer engagement; and about five hundred of them made an irruption upon the left wing of the enemy with their accustomed ferocity. The first line being disordered by this onset, two battalions advanced to support it, and galled the enemy with a terrible and close discharge. At the same time the dragoons, under Hawley, and the Argyleshire militia pulling down a park-wall that guarded the flank of the enemy, and which they had but feebly defended, fell in among them, sword in hand, with great slaughter. In less than thirty minutes they were totally routed, and the field covered with their wounded and slain, to the number of above three thousand men. The French troops on the left did not fire a shot, but stood inactive during the engagement, and afterwards surrendered themselves prisoners of war. An entire body of the clans marched off the field, in order, while the rest were routed with great slaughter, and their leaders obliged with reluctance to retire. Civil war is in itself terrible, but more so when heightened by unnecessary cruelty. How guilty soever an enemy may be, it is the duty of a brave soldier to remember that he is only to fight an opposer, and not a suppliant. The victory was in every respect decisive, and humanity to the conquered would have rendered it glorious. But little mercy was shewn here; the conquerors were seen to refuse quarter to the wounded, the unarmed, and the defenceless; some were slain who were only excited by curiosity to become spectators of the combat, and soldiers were seen to anticipate the base employment of the executioner. The duke immediately after the action, ordered six and thirty deserters to be executed, the conquerors spread terror wherever they came; and after a short space, the whole country round was one dreadful scene of plunder, slaughter, and desolation; justice was forgotten, and vengeance assumed the name.
In this manner were blasted all the hopes, and all the ambition of the young adventurer; one short hour deprived him of imaginary thrones and sceptres, and reduced him from a nominal king, to a distressed forlorn outcast, shunned by all mankind, except such as sought his destruction. To the good and the brave, subsequent distress often atones for former guilt; and while reason would speak for punishment, our hearts plead for mercy. Immediately after the engagement, he fled away with a captain of Fitzjames's cavalry, and when their horses were fatigued, they both alighted, and separately sought for safety. He for some days wandered in this country, naturally wild, but now rendered more formidable by war, a wretched spectator of all those horrors which were the result of his ill-guided ambition.
There is a striking similitude between his adventures, and those of Charles the second, upon his escape from Worcester. He sometimes found refuge in caves and cottages, without attendants, and dependent on the wretched natives, who could pity, but not relieve him. Sometimes he lay in forests, with one or two companions of his distress, continually pursued by the troops of the conqueror, as there was a reward of thirty thousand pounds offered for taking him, dead or alive. Sheridan, an Irish adventurer, was the person who kept most faithfully by him, and inspired him with courage to support such incredible hardships. He had occasion in the course of his concealments, to trust his life to the fidelity of above fifty individuals, whose veneration for his family prevailed above their avarice.
One day, having walked from morning till night, he ventured to enter a house, the owner of which he well knew was attached to the opposite party. As he entered, he addressed the master of the house in the following manner.
"The son of your king comes to beg a little bread and a few cloaths. I know your present, attachment to my adversaries, but I believe you have sufficient honour not to abuse my confidence, or to take advantage of my distressed situation. Take these rags that have for some time been my only covering; you may probably restore them to me one day when I shall be seated on the throne of Great Britain."
The master of the house was touched with pity at his distress; he assisted him as far as he was able, and never divulged the secret. There are few of those who even wished his destruction, would chuse to be the immediate actors in it, as it would subject them to the resentment of a numerous party.
In this manner he continued to wander among the frightful wilds of Glengary, for near six months, often hemmed round by his pursuers, but still rescued by some lucky accident from the impending danger. At length a privateer of St. Maloes, hired by his adherents, arrived in Lochnanach, in which he embarked in the most wretched attire. He was clad in a short coat of black frize, thread bare, over which was a common Highland plaid, girt round him by a belt, from whence depended a pistol and a dagger. He had not been shifted for many weeks; his eye was hollow, his visage wan, and his constitution greatly impaired by famine and fatigue. He was accompanied by Sullivan and Sheridan, two Irish adherents, who had shared all his calamities, together with Cameron of Lochiel, and his brother, and a few other exiles. They set sail for France, and after having been chaced by two English men of war, they arrived in safety at a place called Roseau, near Morlaix in Bretagne. Perhaps he would have found it more difficult to escape, had not the vigilance of his pursuers been relaxed by a report that he was already slain.
In the mean time, while the pretender was thus pursued, the scaffolds and the gibbets were preparing for his adherents. Seventeen officers of the rebel army were hanged, drawn, and quartered, at Kennington-common, in the neighbourhood of London. Their constancy in death gained more proselytes to their cause than even perhaps their victories would have obtained. Nine were executed in the same manner at Carlisle, and eleven at York. A few obtained pardons, and a considerable number of the common men were transported to the plantations in North America.
The earls of Kilmarnock and Cromartie, and the lord Balmerino, were tried by their peers, and found guilty. Cromartie was pardoned, but the other two were beheaded on Tower-hill. Kilmarnock, either convinced of his errors, or flattered to the last with the hopes of pardon, declared a consciousness of his crimes, and professed his repentance. But very different was the behaviour of Balmerino, who gloried in the cause for which he fell. When his fellow-sufferer was commanded to to bid God bless king George, which he did with a faint voice, Balmerino still avowed his principles, and cried out aloud,
"God bless king James!"
Mr. Radcliffe, brother to the late earl of Derwentwater, who was beheaded in the former reign, being taken on board a ship as he was coming to reinforce the pretender's army, and the identity of his person being proved, he was sentenced upon a former conviction, and suffered his fate upon Tower-hill with tranquility and resolution. Lord Lovat was tried and found guilty some time after; he died with great intrepidity, but his sufferings did but very little honour to his cause. Thus ended the last effort of the family of the Stuarts for re-ascending the throne; dictated by youth and presumption, and conducted without art or resolution.
Immediately after the rebellion was suppressed, and the tumult of terror and transport was subsided, the legislature undertook to establish several regulations in Scotland, which were equally conducive to the happiness of that people, and the tranquility of the united kingdom. The Highlanders had till this time continued to wear the old military dress of their ancestors, and never went without arms. In consequence of this, they considered themselves as a body of people distinct from the rest of the nation, and were ready, upon the shortest notice, to second the insurrections of their chiefs. But their habits were now reformed by an act of the legislature, and they were compelled to wear cloaths of the common fashion. But what contributed still more to their real felicity, was the abolition of that hereditary jurisdiction which their chiefs exerted over them. The power of their chieftains was totally destroyed, and every subject in that part of the kingdom, was granted a participation of the common liberty.
In the mean time, while England was thus in commotion at home, the flames of war still continued to rage upon the continent with encreasing violence. The French arms were crowned with repeated success; and almost the whole Netherlands were reduced under their dominion. The Dutch in their usual manner negociated, supplicated, and evaded the war; but they found themselves every day stripped of some of those strong towns which formed a barrier to their dominions, and which they had been put in possession of by the victories of Marlborough. They now lay almost defenceless, and ready to receive the terms of their conquerors; their national bravery being quite suffocated in the spirit of traffic and luxury.
The Dutch were at this time divided by factions which still subsisted, and had continued for above a century in their republic. The one declared for the prince of Orange and a stadtholder, the other opposed this election, and desired rather friendship than to be at variance with France. The prevalence of either of these factions to its utmost extent was equally fatal to freedom; for if a stadtholder were elected, the constitution became altered from a republic to a kind of limited monarchy; if, on the contrary, the opposite party prevailed, the people must submit to the weight of a confirmed aristocracy supported by French power, and liable to its control. Of the two evils they chose the former; the people in several towns, inflamed almost to sedition, compelled their magistrates to declare the prince of Orange stadtholder, captain-general, and admiral of the United Provinces. The vigorous consequences of this resolution immediately appeared. All commerce with the French was prohibited; the Dutch army was augmented, and orders were issued to commence hostilities against the French by sea and land. Thus the war, which had begun but in a single country, was now diffused over all Europe; and like a disorder prevailed in different parts of this great political constitution, remitting and raging by turns.
The king of Sardinia, who had some years before joined France against England, now changed sides, and declared against the ambitious power of France. Italy felt all the terrors of intestine war, or more properly looked on, while foreigners were contending with each other for her usurped dominions. The French and Spaniards on one side, and the Imperialists and the king of Sardinia on the other, ravaged those beautiful territories by turns, and gave laws to a country that had once spread her dominion over the world.
About this time the English made an unsuccessful attack upon Port l'Orient, a sea-port in France, but weakly defended, and drew off their forces in a panic. The French gained a considerable victory at Roucroux in Flanders, although it procured them no real advantage, and cost them as many lives as they destroyed of the enemy. Another victory, which they obtained at La Feldt, served to depress the allied army still lower. But the taking of Bergen-op-zoom, the strongest fortification of Dutch Brabant, reduced the Dutch to a state of desperation. However, these victories gained by the French were counterbalanced with almost equal disappointments. In Italy the marshal Bellisle's brother, attempting to penetrate at the head of thirty-four thousand men into Piedmont, was routed, and himself slain. An unsuccessful fleet was sent out for the recovery of Cape Breton. Two more were fitted out, the one to make a descent upon the British colonies in America, and the other to carry on the operations in the East Indies; but these were attacked by Anson and Warren, and nine of their ships taken. Soon after this, commodore Fox, with six ships of war, took above forty French ships richly laden from St. Domingo; and this loss was soon after followed by another defeat, which the French fleet sustained from admiral Hawke, in which seven ships of the line, and several frigates, were taken.
In this manner victory, defeat, negociation, treachery, and rebellion, succeeded each other rapidly for some years, till all sides began to think themselves growing more feeble, and gaining no solid advantage.
The Dutch had for some time endeavoured to stop the progress of a war, in which they had all to lose, and nothing to gain. The king of France was sensible that after a victory was the most advantageous time to offer terms of peace. He even expressed his desire of general tranquillity to Sir John Ligonier, who had been taken prisoner at the battle of La Feldt. But now the bad success of his admirals at sea, his armies in Italy, the frequent bankruptcies of his merchants at home, and the election of a stadtholder in Holland, who gave spirit to the opposition, all these contributed to make him weary of the war, and to propose an accommodation. This was what the allies had long wished for; and which, notwithstanding, they were ashamed to demand. The English ministry in particular finding themselves unable to manage a parliament soured by frequent defeats, and now beginning to be disgusted with continental connexions, were very ready to accede. A negociation was therefore resolved upon; and the contending powers agreed to come to a congress at Aix-la-Chapelle, where the earl of Sandwich and Sir Thomas Robinson assisted as plenipotentiaries from the king of Great Britain.
This treaty, which takes its name from the city at which it was made, was begun, upon the preliminary conditions of restoring all conquests made during the war. From thence great hopes were expected of conditions both favourable and honourable to the English; but the treaty still remains a lasting mark of precipitate counsels, and English disgrace. By this it was agreed, that all prisoners on each side should be mutually restored, and all conquests given up. That the dutchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, should be ceded to Don Philip, heir apparent to the Spanish throne, and to his heirs; but in case of his succeeding to the crown of Spain, that then these dominions should revert to the house of Austria. It was confirmed that the fortifications of Dunkirk to the sea should be demolished; that the English ship annually sent with slaves to the coast of New Spain should have this privilege continued for four years. That the king of Prussia should be confirmed in the possession of Silesia, which he had lately conquered; and that the queen of Hungary should be secured in her patrimonial dominions. But one article of the peace was more displeasing and afflictive to the English than all the rest. It was stipulated that the king of Great Britain should immediately, after the ratification of this treaty, send two persons of rank and distinction to France as hostages, until restitution should be made of Cape Breton, and all other conquests which England had made during the war. This was a mortifying clause; but to add to the general error of the negociation, no mention was made of the searching the vessels of England in the American seas, upon which the war was originally begun. The limits of their respective possessions in North America were not ascertained; nor did they receive any equivalent for those forts which they restored to the enemy. The treaty of Utrecht had long been the object of reproach to those by whom it was made; but, with all its faults, the treaty now concluded was by far more despicable and erroneous. Yet such was the spirit of the times, that the treaty of Utrecht was branded with universal contempt, and the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was extolled with the highest strains of praise. But the people were wearied with repeated disgrace, and only expecting an accumulation of misfortunes by continuing the war, they were glad of any peace that promised a pause to their disappointments.
CHAP. XLVIII. GEORGE II. (Continued.)
THIS treaty, which some asserted would serve for a bond of permanent amity, was, properly speaking, but a temporary truce; a cessation from hostilities, which both sides were unable to continue. Though the war between England and France was actually hushed up in Europe, yet in the East and West Indies it still went forward with diminished vehemence. Both sides still willing to offend, still offending, and yet both complaining of the infraction.
In the mean time, as Europe enjoyed a temporary tranquillity, the people of England expected, and the ministry was liberal in promising them, a return of all the advantages of peace. In order to please the populace, for this ministry had the art always to keep the people in good humour, a magnificent firework was played off; and the spectators could never be brought to think that a bad treaty, which was celebrated with such magnificent profusion.
It must be confessed also there was some desire shewn in the ministry to promote the commerce of the kingdom; and for this purpose a bill was passed for encouraging a British herring fishery, in the manner of that carried on by the Dutch, under proper regulations. From the carrying such a scheme vigorously into execution, great advantages were expected. The Dutch, who had long enjoyed the sole profits arising from this article, considered the sea as a mine of inexhaustible wealth. But the patience and frugality of that nation seem to fit them more properly for the life of fishermen than the English. Certain it is that experience has shewn this attempt to rival the Dutch to have been ineffectual. Perhaps the company was not established upon the strictest principles of oeconomy; perhaps the Dutch art of curing their fish was not practised or understood perfectly.
In the mean time Mr. Pelham, who now conducted the business of the state, and was esteemed a man of candour and capacity, laid a scheme for lightening the immense load of debt which the nation sustained in consequence of the late war. His plan was to lessen the debt, by lowering the interest which had been promised on granting the supplies, or else obliging the lenders to receive the sums originally granted. Those, for instance, who were proprietors of stock, and received for the use of their money four per cent. were, by an act passed for that purpose, compelled to subscribe their names, signifying their consent to accept of three pounds ten shillings per cent. the following year, and three per cent. every year ensuing; and in case of a refusal, assurances were given that the government would pay off the principal. This scheme was attended with the desired effect, though it, in some measure, was a force upon the lender, who had originally granted his money upon different terms, and under a promise of continuing interest. However, the measure was evidently beneficial to the nation; and experience has shewn that it no way affected the public credit. Beside this salutary measure others were pursued for the interest of the nation with equal success. The importation of iron from America was allowed, the trade to Africa was laid open to the nation, but under the superintendance of the board of trade.
But all the advantages the nation reaped from these salutary measures were not sufficient to counterbalance the stroke which liberty received, as some are of opinion, by an unusual stretch of the privileges of the house of commons. The city of Westminster had long been represented by members who were, in some measure, appointed by the ministry. Lord Trentham, member for Westminster, having vacated his seat in the house of commons, by accepting a place under the crown, again resolved to stand candidate, and met with a violent opposition. It was objected by some that he had been uncommonly active in introducing some French strollers, who had come over by the invitation of the nobility to open a theatre when our own were shut up. This accusation against him excited a violent combination, who styled themselves the Independent Electors of Westminster, and who named Sir George Vandeput, a private gentleman, as his competitor. These resolved to support their own nomination at their own expence, and accordingly opened houses of entertainment for the inferior voters, and propagated abuse as usual. At length the pole being closed, the majority appeared to be in favour of lord Trentham; but a scrutiny being demanded by the other party, it was protracted by management on the one side, and tumult on the other. After some time the scrutiny also appeared in favour of lord Trentham, the independent electors complained of partiality and injustice in the high-bailiff of Westminster, who took the poll, and carried their petition to the house.
To this petition the house paid little attention; but proceeded to examine the high-bailiff as to the causes that had so long protracted the election. This officer laid the blame upon Mr. Crowle, who had acted as counsel for the petitioners, and also upon the honourable Alexander Murray, a friend to Sir George Vandeput, and one Gibson, an upholsterer. These three persons were, therefore, brought to the bar of the house; Crowle and Gibson consented to ask pardon, and were dismissed, upon being reprimanded by the speaker. Murray was at first admitted to bail; but upon the deposition of several witnesses that he had headed a mob to intimidate the voters, it was resolved by the house that he should be committed a close prisoner to Newgate, and that he should receive this sentence at the bar of the house upon his knees. When he was conducted before the house, being directed to kneel, he refused to comply, and this threw the whole assembly into commotion. They then were resolved to pursue more vigorous measures; ordered that he should be committed to Newgate, denied the use of pen, ink, and paper, and that no person should have access to him, without permission of the house.
This imprisonment he underwent with great chearfulness, sensible that, by the constitution of the country, his confinement could continue no longer than while the commons continued sitting; and at the end of the session he was accordingly discharged. But what was his amazement, at the commencement of the ensuing session, to find that he was was again called upon, and that a motion was made for committing him close prisoner to the Tower. The delinquent, therefore, thought proper to screen himself from their resentment by absconding; but the people could not help considering their representatives rather as their oppressors, and the house as asserting rather vindictive, than legislative authority. Some thought they saw in this measure the seeds of a future aristocracy; that the commons erected themselves into a tribunal, where they determined on their own privileges, and ready to punish, without the consent of the other parts of the legislature. However, the subject has still one resource against any violent resolutions of the house against him; he may resist if he thinks proper, as they are armed with no legal executive powers to compel obedience.
The people were scarce recovered from the resentment produced by this measure, when another was taken in the house, which, in reality, made distinctions among the people, and laid a line between the rich and poor that seemed impassable. This was the act for the better preventing clandestine marriages, and for the more public solemnization of that ceremony. The grievance complained of, and which this law was calculated to redress, was, that the sons and daughters of opulent families were often seduced into marriage before they had acquired sufficient experience in life, to be sensible of the desparity of the match. This statute, therefore, enacted, that the bans of marriage should be regularly published three successive Sundays in the church of the parish where both parties had resided for one month, at least, before the ceremony. It declared, that any marriage solemnized without this previous publication, or a license obtained from the bishop's court, should be void, and that the person who solemnized it should be transported for seven years. This act was at that time thought replete with consequences injurious to society; and experience has confirmed the truth of many of those objections. Infamous men have made a practice of seducing young women, ignorant of the law, by pretending a marriage which they knew to be illegal, and consequently no longer binding. The poor, by being prevented from making alliances with the rich, have left wealth to flow in its ancient channels, and thus to accumulate, contrary to the interests of the state. It has been found to impede marriage, by clogging it with unnecessary ceremonies. Some have affirmed that lewdness and debauchery have become more frequent since the enacting this law, and it is believed that the numbers of the people are upon the decline.
This session was also distinguished by another act equally unpopular, and perhaps equally injurious to that religion which was still left among the populace. This was a law for naturalizing the Jews. The ministry boldly affirmed, that such a law would greatly contribute to the benefit of the nation; that it would encrease the wealth, the credit, and the commerce of the kingdom, and set a laudable example of political toleration. Others, however, were of different sentiments; they saw greater favour was shewn to the Jews by this bill, than to some other sects professing christianity; that an introduction of this people into the kingdom would disgrace the character of the nation, and cool the zeal of the natives for religion, which was already too much neglected. The bill was passed into a law; but the people without doors remonstrated so loudly against it, that the ministry were obliged to get it repealed the ensuing session.
An act equally unpopular with the two former was now also passed, which contained regulations for the better preserving the game. By this, none but men already possessed of a stated fortune were allowed a privilege of carrying a gun, or destroying game, though even upon the grounds which he himself rented and paid for. This law was but of very little service to the community; it totally damped all that martial ardour among the lower orders of mankind, by preventing their handling those arms, which might one day be necessary to defend their country. It also defeated its own end of preserving the game; for the farmers, abridged of the power of seizing game, never permitted it to come to maturity.
A scheme,
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which the nation was taught to believe would be extremely advantageous, had been entered upon some time before. This was the encouraging those who had been discharged the army or navy, to become settlers in a new colony in North America, in the province of Nova Scotia. To this retreat it was thought the waste of an exuberant nation might well be drained off; and those bold spirits kept in employment at a distance, who might be dangerous, if suffered to continue in idleness at home. Nova Scotia was a place where men might be imprisoned, but not maintained; it was cold, barren, and incapable of successful cultivation. The new colony, therefore, was maintained there with some expence to the government in the beginning; and such as were permitted, soon went southward to the milder climates, where they were invited by an untenanted and fertile soil. Thus did the nation ungratefully send off her hardy veterans to perish on inhospitable shores, and this they were taught to believe would extend their dominion.
However, it was for this barren spot that the English and French revived the war, which soon after spread with such terrible devastation over every part of the globe. The native Indians bordering upon the desarts of Nova Scotia, a fierce and savage people, looked from the first with jealousy upon these new settlers; and they considered the vicinity of the English as an encroachment upon their native possessions. The French, who were neighbours in like manner, and who were still impressed with national animosity, fomented these suspicions in the natives, and represented the English, and with regard to this colony the representation might be true, as enterprizing and severe. Commissaries were, therefore, appointed to meet at Paris, to compromise these disputes; but these conferences were rendered abortive by the cavillings of men, who could not be supposed to understand the subject in debate.
As this seemed to be the first place where the dissensions took their rise for a new war, it may be necessary to be a little more minute. The French had been the first cultivators of Nova Scotia, and, by great industry and long perseverance, had rendered the soil, naturally barren, somewhat more fertile, and capable of sustaining nature, with some assistance from Europe. This country, however, had frequently changed masters, until at length the English were settled in the possession, and acknowledged as the rightful owners, by the treaty of Utrecht. The possession of this country was reckoned necessary to defend the English colonies to the North, and to preserve their superiority in the fisheries in that part of the world. The French, however, who had been long settled in the back parts of the country, resolved to use every method to dispossess the new-comers, and spirited up the Indians to more open hostilities, which were represented to the English ministry for some time without redress.
Soon after this, another source of dispute began to be seen in the same part of the world, and promised as much uneasiness as the former. The French pretending first to have discovered the mouth of the river Missisippi, claimed the whole adjacent country towards New Mexico on the East, and quite to the Apalachian mountains on the West. In order to assert their claims, as they found several English, who had settled beyond these mountains, from motives of commerce, and also invited by the natural beauties of the country, they dispossessed them of their new settlements, and built such forts as would command the whole country round about. It was now, therefore, seen, that their intention was to surround the English colonies, which lay along the shore, by taking possession of the internal parts of the country that lay on the back of our settlements; and thus, being in possession already of the northern and southern parts of that great continent, to hem the English in on every side, and secure to themselves all trade with the natives of the internal part of the country. The English, therefore, justly apprehended, that if the French united their northern colonies, which were traded into by the river St. Lawrence, to their southern, which were accessible by the river Mississippi, that then they must in a short time become masters of the whole country; and by having a wide extended territory to range in, they would soon multiply, and become every day more powerful.
Negociations had long been carried on to determine these differences; but what could reason avail in determining disputes where there were no certain principles to be guided by? The limits of those countries had never been settled; for they were before this time too remote, or too insignificant, to employ much attention. It was not probable that powers, who had no right to the countries in dispute, but that of invasion, would have equity enough to agree among themselves in sharing the spoil.
But not in America alone, but also in Asia, the seeds of a new war were preparing to be expanded. On the coasts of Malabar, the English and French had, in fact, never ceased from hostilities.
This immense tract of country, which now saw the armies of Europe contending for its, dominion, comprehends the whole Peninsula of India proper. On the coasts of this country, the English, the French, and several other powers of Europe, had built forts, with the original consent of the Mogul, who was then emperor of the whole tract. The war between the English and French there, first began by either power siding with two contending princes of the country, and from being secondaries in the quarrel at length becoming principals. Thus the war was kindled up in every part of the world. Most other national contests have arisen from some principal cause; but this war seems to have been produced by the concurrence of several, or it may be more properly considered as the continuance of the late war, which was never effectually extinguished by the wretched and defective treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle.
The government of England had long complained of these infractions, and these produced only recrimination; the two powers were negociating, accusing, and destroying each other at the same time. At length, the ministry were resolved to cut the knot, which they could not unloose, and to act at once in open defiance of the enemy. Orders were accordingly dispatched to all the governors of the American provinces to unite into a confederacy for their mutual security; and, if possible, to bring the Indians over to espouse their quarrel. But this was a measure which, by long neglect, was now become impracticable. It had long been the method of the English to cultivate the friendship of this fierce and hardy race in times of danger; but to slight it in circumstances of safety. This served to alienate the affections of the Indians from the English government; but the avarice of our merchants, particularly of that called the Ohio company, who sold them bad commodities, and treated them with perfidy and insolence, served to confirm their aversion. Beside, there was something in the disposition of the French adventurers in those regions more similar to theirs. They were hardy, enterprizing, and poor. The Indians, therefore, naturally joined those allies, from the conquest of whom in case of enmity, they could expect no plunder; and they declared war against the English settlers, who were rich, frugal, and laborious, and whose spoils were therefore worth wishing for.
In this manner the English had not only the French, but almost the whole body of the Indian nations to contend with; but what was still worse, their own contentions among each other rendered their situation yet more deplorable. Some of the English provinces, who, from their situation, had little to fear from the enemy, or few advantages to expect from success, declined furnishing their share of the supplies. At the same time the governors of some other colonies, who had been men of broken fortunes, and had left England in hopes of retrieving their lost circumstances by rapacity abroad, became so odious, that the colonies refused to lend any assistance, when such men were to have the management.
The successes, therefore, of the French in the beginning were flattering and uninterrupted. There had been for some time frequent skirmishes between their troops, and those of the government of England. They had fought with general Lawrence to the North, and colonel Washington to the South, and come off most commonly victorious. It is unnecessary, however, to transmit these trifling details to posterity, or to load the page with barbarous names, and unimportant marches. It may be sufficient to say, that the two nations seemed to have imbibed a part of the savage fury of those with whom they fought, and excercised various cruelties, either from a spirit of avarice or revenge.
The ministry, however, in England began now a very vigorous exertion in defence of those colonies, who refused to defend themselves. Four operations were undertaken in America at the same time. Of these,
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one was commanded by colonel Monckton, who had orders to drive the French from the encroachments upon the province of Nova Scotia. The second, more to the South, was directed against Crown-point, under the command of general Johnson. The third, under the conduct of general Shirley, was destined to Niagara, to secure the forts on the river; and the fourth was farther southward still, against Fort Du Quesne, under general Braddock.
In these expeditions Monckton was successful; Johnson also was victorious, tho' he failed in taking the fort against which he was sent; Shirley was thought to have lost the season for operation by delay; Braddock was vigorous and active, but suffered a defeat. This bold commander, who had been recommended to this service by the duke of Cumberland, set forward upon his expedition in June, and left the cultivated parts of the country on the tenth, at the head of two thousand two hundred men, directing his march to that part of the country where general Washington had been defeated the year before. Upon his arrival, he was there informed that the French at Fort du Quesne, against which he was destined, expected a reinforcement of five hundred men, and would then become his equals in the field; he therefore resolved with all haste to advance and attack them, before they became too powerful by this conjunction. In consequence of this resolution, leaving colonel Dunbar with eight hundred men to bring up the provisions, stores, and heavy baggage, as quick as the nature of the service would admit, he marched forward with the rest of his army, through a country that still remained in primaeval wildness, solitary and hideous, inhabited only by beasts, and hunters still more formidable. However, he went forward with intrepidity, and soon found himself advanced into the desarts of Ofwego, where no European had ever been. But his courage was greater than his caution; regardless of the designs of the enemy, he took no care previously to explore the woods or the thickets, as if the nearer he approached the enemy, the less regardless he became of danger. Being at length within ten miles of the fortress, he was appointed to besiege, and marching forward through the forests with full confidence of success, on a sudden his whole army was astonished by a general discharge of arms, both in front and flank, from an enemy that still remained unseen. It was now too late to think of retreating, the troops had passed into the defile, which the enemy had artfully permitted them to do before they offered to fire. The vanguard of the English now, therefore, fell back in consternation upon the main body, and the panic soon became general. The officers alone disdained to fly, while Braddock himself still continued to command his brave associates, discovering at once the greatest intrepidity and the greatest imprudence. An enthusiast to the discipline of war, he disdained to fly from the field, or to permit his men to quit their ranks when their only method of treating the Indian army, was by a precipitate attack, or an immediate desertion of the field of battle. At length Braddock, having received a musquet-shot through the lungs, he dropped, and a total confusion ensued. All the artillery, ammunition, and baggage of the army were left to the enemy; and the loss sustained by the English army might amount to seven hundred men. The shattered remains of the army, soon after joining colonel Dunbar, returned by their former route, and arrived to spread the general consternation among the provincials of Philadelphia.
The general indignation that was raised by these defeats, drove the English into a spirit of retaliation by sea, where they were sure of success. Orders were, therefore, given to make prize of the French shipping wherever found, though they had yet published no formal declaration of war. With this order, the naval commanders very readily and willingly complied; the French merchant ships were taken in several places, and soon the English ports were filled with vessels taken from the enemy, and kept as an indemnification for those forts of which the enemy had unjustly possessed themselves in America. The benefit of this measure, was much more obvious than its justice; it struck such a blow that the French navy was unable to recover itself during the continuance of the war, which was formally declared on both sides shortly after.
CHAP. XLIX. GEORGE II. (Continued.)
THE war between the two nations being thus begun, and all negociation at an end, both nations made vigorous preparations, both to annoy, and to intimidate each other. In this the French were most successful, and for a long time had the satisfaction to see not only success attend their arms, but discontent and faction dividing the counsels of their opponents. Their first attempt was by intimidating England with the threats of a formidable invasion. Several bodies of their troops had for some time been sent down to the coasts that lay opposite the British shores, these were instructed in the discipline of embarking and re-landing from flat-bottomed boats, which were made in great numbers for that expedition. The number of men destined for this enterprize, amounted to fifty thousand, but they discovered the utmost reluctance to the undertaking, and it was by degrees that the French ministry hoped to prevail upon them to proceed. Every day they were exercised with embarking and disembarking, while numbers of new flat-bottomed boats were continually added.
Whether these preparations were intended for actual descent, or made only to terrify the English, is as yet uncertain, but it is manifest that they answered the latter intent entirely. The people of England saw themselves exposed without arms, leaders, or discipline, to the designs of their enemies, governed by a ministry that was timid, unpopular, and divided among themselves. It was in this exigence that they applied to the Dutch for six thousand men, which they were obliged to furnish by treaty in case of invasion. However, the Dutch refused the supply, alledging that their treaty was to supply troops in case of an actual, and not a threatened invasion. The king, therefore, finding that he could not have the Dutch forces until their assistance would be too late, desisted entirely from his demand, and the Dutch, with great amity, returned him thanks for withdrawing his request.
The ministry, disappointed of this assistance, looked round the continent to find where they might at any rate make a demand. The aid of a body of Hessians and Hanoverians, amounting to about ten thousand men, was to be purchased; and these the ministry brought over into England to protect about as many millions of Englishmen, who were supposed incapable of defending themselves. But here the remedy appeared to the people worse than the disease. The ministry was reviled for having reduced the nation to such a disgraceful condescension. The people considered themselves as no way reduced to the necessity of borrowing such feeble aid. They only demanded a vigorous exertion of their own internal strength, and feared no force that could be led to invade them.
These murmurs, fears, and dissensions among the English, gave the French an opportunity of carrying on their designs on another quarter; and while the ministry were employed in guarding against the neighbouring terrors, they were attacked in the Mediterranean, where they expected no danger. The island of Minorca, which we had taken from the Spaniards in the reign of queen Anne, was secured to England by repeated treaties. But the ministry, at this time being blinded by domestic terrors, had neglected to take sufficient precautions for its defence, so that the garrison was weak, and no way fitted to stand a vigorous siege. The French, therefore landed near the fortification of St. Philip's, which was reckoned one of the strongest in Europe, and commanded by general Blakeney, who was brave indeed, but rather superannuated. The siege was carried on with great vigour, and for some time as obstinately defended on the side of the English.
The ministry being apprized of this unexpected attack, resolved to raise the siege if possible, and sent out admiral Byng with ten ships of war, with orders to relieve Minorca at any rate. Byng accordingly sailed from Gibraltar, where he was refused any assistance of men from the governor of that garrison, under a pretence that his own fortification was in danger. Upon his approaching the island, he soon saw the French banners displayed upon the shore, and the English colours still flying on the castle of St. Philip. He had been ordered to throw a body of troops into the garrison; but this he thought too hazardous an undertaking; nor did he even make an attempt. While he was thus deliberating between his fears and his duty, his attention was quickly called off by the appearance of a French fleet, that seemed of nearly equal force to his own. Confounded by a variety of measures he seemed resolved to pursue none, and therefore gave orders to form the line of battle, and act upon the defensive. Byng had been long praised for his skill in naval tactics; and, perhaps, valuing most those talents for which he was most praised, he sacrificed all claims to courage to the applause for naval discipline. The French fleet advanced, a part of the English fleet engaged, the admiral still kept aloof, and gave very plausible reasons for not coming into action. The French fleet, therefore, slowly sailed away, and no other opportunity ever offered of coming to a closer engagement.
This caution was carried rather beyond the proper bounds; but a council of war, which was soon after called on board the admiral's own ship, deprived the English garrison of all hopes of succour. It was there determined to sail away to Gibraltar to refit the fleet, and it was agreed that the relief of Minorca was become impracticable.
Nothing could exceed the resentment of the nation upon being informed of Byng's conduct. The ministry were not averse to throwing from themselves the blame of those measures which were attended with such indifferent success, and they secretly fanned the flame. The news, which soon after arrived, of the surrender of the garrison to the French, drove the general ferment almost to frenzy. In the mean time Byng continued at Gibraltar, quite satisfied with his own conduct, and little expecting the dreadful storm that was gathering against him at home. Orders, however, were soon sent out for putting him under an arrest, and for carrying him to England. Upon his arrival he was committed to close custody in Greenwich hospital, and some arts used to enflame the populace against him, who want no incentives to injure and condemn their superiors. Several addresses were sent up from different counties, demanding justice on the delinquent, which the ministry were willing to second. He was soon after tried by a court-martial in the harbour of Portsmouth, where, after a trial, which continued several days, his judges were agreed that he had not done his utmost during the engagement to destroy the enemy, and therefore they adjudged him to suffer death by the twelfth article of war. At the same time, however, they recommended him as an object of mercy, as they considered his conduct rather as the effects of error, than of cowardice. By this sentence they expected to satisfy at once the resentment of the nation, and yet screen themselves from conscious severity. The government was resolved upon shewing him no mercy; the parliament was applied to in his favour; but they found no circumstances in his conduct that could invalidate the former sentence. Being thus abandoned to his fate, he maintained to the last a degree of fortitude and serenity, that no way betrayed any timidity or cowardice. On the day fixed for his execution, which was on board a man of war in the harbour of Portsmouth, he advanced from the cabbin, where he had been imprisoned, upon deck, the place appointed for him to suffer. After delivering a paper, containing the strongest assertions of his innocence, he came forward to the place where he was to kneel down, and for some time persisted in not covering his face; but his friends representing that his looks would possibly intimidate the soldiers who were to shoot him, and prevent their taking proper aim, he had his eyes bound with an handkerchief; and then giving the signal for the soldiers to fire, he was killed instantaneously. There appears some severity in Byng's punishment; but it certainly produced soon after very beneficial effects to the nation.
In the mean time the French, who were now masters of Minorca, were willing to second their blow by an attack upon a country, which they were sensible the king of England valued still more. Being convinced that they could not hold their acquisitions against such a superiority as the English were possessed of at sea, and the numberless resources they had of assisting their colonies with all the necessaries of war; they made no scruple of declaring that they would revenge all injuries which they should sustain in their colonies upon the king of England's territories in Germany; a threat, which they secretly believed would soon compel the English ministry to accept of such terms as they should be pleased to offer. Or, in case of perseverance, they knew that it would divide the English forces, and lead them to a country, where they must be manifestly inferior. In these hopes they were not much disappointed. The court of London, dreading the consequences of their indignation, and eager to procure the security of Hanover, entered into a very expensive treaty with the court of Russia, by which it was stipulated that a body of fifty thousand Russians should be ready to act in the English service, in case Hanover should be invaded; and for this the czarina was to receive an hundred thousand pounds annually, to be paid in advance.
This treaty with the Russians, which was considered as a master stroke of politics by the ministry in England, soon appeared to be as nugatory as it was expensive. The king of Prussia had long considered himself as guardian of the interests of Germany, and was startled at a treaty, which threatened to deluge the empire with an army of barbarians. This monarch, whose talents were well known even at that time, but who has since become so famous, had learned by his sagacity to prevent the designs of his enemies, while yet beginning, and to repress them by his courage when they were begun. He, therefore, took the first opportunity to declare that he would not suffer any foreign forces to enter the empire, either as auxiliaries, or as principals. This consummate politician had, it seems, been already apprized of a secret negociation between the Russians and the Austrians, by which the latter were to enter the empire, and strip him of his late conquests of Silesia. Thus England was but the dupe of Russian politics; she paid them a large subsidy for entering the empire, which they had already determined to perform without her commands.
The king of England, whose fears for Hanover guided all his counsels, now saw himself in the situation he most dreaded. His native dominions were now exposed to the resentment not only of France, but of Prussia; and either of these was sufficient at once to over-run and ravage his electorate, while the Russian subsidies were at too great a distance to lend him the smallest relief. Treaties were once more set on foot to lend a precarious security; and the king of Prussia was applied to, in hopes of turning his resentment another way. All that the king of England wished for was to keep a foreign enemy from invading Germany, and this the king of Prussia professed to desire with equal ardour. From this similitude of intention, these two monarchs were induced to unite their interests; and as they were both inspired with the same wish, they soon came to an agreement, by which they promised to assist each other, and to prevent all foreign armies from entering the empire.
From this new alliance both powers hoped great advantages. Beside preserving the independence of the German states, which was the ostensible object, each had their peculiar benefits in view. The king of Prussia knew that the Austrians were his secret enemies, and that the Russians were in league with them against him. An alliance, therefore, with the court of London kept back the Russians, whom he dreaded, and gave him hopes of punishing Austria, whom he long suspected. As for France he counted upon that as a natural ally, which, from its long and hereditary enmity with the Austrians, would ever continue stedfast in his interests. On the other side, the elector of Hanover had still stronger expectations from the benefits that would result from this alliance. By this he procured a near and powerful ally, which he supposed the French would not venture to disoblige. He counted upon the Austrians as naturally attached to his own interests by gratitude and friendship, and he supposed that the Russians would at least continue neuter from their former stipulations and subsidy. The two contracting powers soon found themselves deceived in every one of these expectations.
This alliance soon after gave birth to one of an opposite nature, that astonished all Europe. The queen of Hungary had long meditated designs for recovering Silesia, which the king of Prussia had invaded when she was unable to defend her native dominions, and kept possession of by a reluctant concession. Her chief hopes of assistance were from Russia; and she expected the rest of the powers in question would continue neuter. However she now found by the late treaty that all her hopes of Russian assistance were frustrated, as England was joined with Prussia to counteract her intentions. Thus deprived of one ally, she sought about, in order to substitute another. She applied to France for that purpose; and to procure the friendship of that court, gave up her barrier in the Netherlands, which England had been for ages securing against that power with its blood and its treasures. By this extraordinary revolution the whole political system of Europe acquired a new aspect, and the treaties of a century were at one blow rendered ineffectual.
This treaty between France and Austria was no sooner ratified, than the czarina was invited to accede; and she, unmindful of her subsidies from England, ardently embraced the proposal. A settlement in the western parts of Europe was what that state had long desired to obtain, as possessed of that, this fierce northern empire could then pour down fresh forces at any time upon the southern powers, exhausted by luxury, and mutual contention. But not Russia alone, but Sweden also, was brought to accede by the intrigues of France; and a war between that nation and Prussia was entered upon, though contrary to the inclinations of the respective kings of either state.
Thus the forces of the contending powers were now drawn out in the following manner. England opposed France in America, Asia, and on the ocean. France attacked Hanover on the continent of Europe. This country the king of Prussia undertook to protect; while England promised him troops and money to assist his operations. Then again Austria had their aims on the dominions of Prussia, and drew the elector of Saxony into the same designs. In these views she was seconded by France and Sweden, and by Russia, who had hopes of acquiring a settlement in the west of Europe. Such were the different combinations, which were formed to begin the general war, while the rest of the powers continued anxious spectators of the contention.
The preparations for war were first begun on the side of Austria, who had engaged the elector of Saxony in the general dispute. Great armaments were, therefore, put on foot in Moravia and Bohemia, while the elector of Saxony, under a pretence of military parade, drew together about sixteen thousand men, which were posted in a strong situation at Pirna. But the intent of these preparations was soon perceived by the vigilant king of Prussia; and he ordered his minister at the court of Vienna to demand a clear explanation, and to extort proper assurances of the amicable intentions of that court. To this demand he at first received an evasive answer; but having ordered his minister to insist upon an open reply, whether the Empress-queen was for peace or war, and whether she had any intentions to attack him that or the next year, an ambiguous answer was still returned. He now, therefore, thought proper to suspend all negociations, and to carry the war into the enemies country, rather than to wait for it in his own.
He accordingly entered Saxony with a large army, and, in the usual strain of civility, demanded from the elector a passage through his dominions, which he well knew the possessor was not able to refuse. In the mean time, he disguised his suspicions of the elector's having entered into a secret treaty with his enemies, and professed himself extremely pleased with that potentate's promises of observing a strict neutrality. But to carry on the deceit still farther, he entreated, that as the elector's troops were totally unnecessary, in consequence of his pacific disposition, that he would disband them for the present, as he could not possibly have any occasion for their services.
This was a proposal the elector neither expected, nor was willing to comply with. He rejected the request with disdain; and the king, who probably made it to be refused, resolved to turn the occurrence to his own advantage. Such was the situation of the Saxon camp, that though a small army could defend it against the most numerous forces, yet the same difficulty attended the quitting it, that impeded the enemy from storming it. Of this, therefore, his Prussian majesty took the advantage; and by blocking up every avenue of egress, he cut off the provisions of the Saxon army, and the whole body was soon reduced to capitulate. He took care to incorporate the common soldiers into his own army; and the officers who refused to serve under him, he made prisoners of war.
The king of Prussia thus launched into a tumult of war, with all the most potent states of Europe against him, and England only in alliance, went forward with a vigour that exceeded what history can shew, and that may be incredible to posterity. King only of a very small territory, and assisted by an ally, whose situation was too remote to give him any considerable succours, attacked and surrounded by his enemies, he still opposed them on every side, invades Bohemia, defeats the Austrian general at Lowoscutch, retreats, begins his second campain with another victory near Prague, is upon the point of taking that city, but by a temerity inspired by success, suffers a defeat at Kolin. Still, however, unconquered,
"Fortune, said he, has turned her back upon me this day. I ought to have expected it. She is a female, and I am no galant. Success often occasions a destructive confidence. Another time will do better."
We have instances of thousands who gained battles; but no general ever before him acknowledged his errors, except Caesar.
What the king said of the instability of fortune shortly began to appear; and she seemed totally to have turned her back upon him. One disaster followed upon the back of another. The Hanoverians, who were joined with him by his treaty with England, had armed in his favour, and commanded by the duke of Cumberland, who appeared, from the beginning, sensible of the insufficiency of his troops to face the enemy, by whom he was greatly out numbered. He was driven beyond the Weser, the passage of which might have been disputed with some success, yet the French were permitted to pass it unmolested. The Hanoverian army, therefore, was now driven from one part of the country to another, till at length it made a stand near a village called the Hastenback, where it was hoped the numbers of the enemy would have the least opportunity of coming to a general action. However, the weaker army was still obliged to retire; and after a feeble effort left the field of battle to the French, who were not remiss in urging the pursuit. The Hanoverian army retired towards Stalde, by which means they marched into a country, from whence they could neither procure provisions, nor yet attack the enemy with hopes of success. Unable, therefore, by their situation to escape, or by their strength to advance, they were compelled to sign a capitulation, by which the whole body laid down their arms, and were dispersed into different quarters of cantonment. By this remarkable capitulation, which was called the treaty of Closter Seven, Hanover was obliged to submit peaceably to the French, who now were determined to turn upon the king of Prussia with undiminished forces.
The situation of this monarch was become desperate, nor could human foresight discover how he could extricate himself from his difficulties. The French forces now united invaded his dominions on one side, commanded by marshal Broglio. The Russians, who for some time had hovered over his empire, under the conduct of general Apraxin, all at once hastened onward to overwhelm him, marking their way with slaughter and cruelty. A large body of Austrians entered Silesia; and penetrating as far as Breslau, turned to the strong fortress of Schweidnitz, which, after an obstinate defence, they obliged to surrender. Another army of the same power entered Lusatia, made themselves master of Zittau, and, pressing forward, laid the capital of Berlin under contribution. On another quarter, a body of twenty two thousand Swedes pierced into Prussian Pomerania, took the towns of Anclam and Demmein, and exacted tribute from the whole country. In this multitude of invaders, it was in vain that the king of Prussia faced about to every incursion, though his enemies fled before him; while he pursued one body, another penetrated from behind, and even while he was victorious, his territories were every day diminishing. The greatest part of his dominions was laid under contribution, most of his strongest cities were taken, and he had no resources but in the generosity of a British parliament, and his own extensive abilities.
The succours of the English could be of very little advantage to him, particularly as the Hanoverians were restrained by treaty from acting in his favour. The ministry, however, conscious that something should be done, planned an enterprize against the coasts of France, which, by causing a diversion in that part of the kingdom, would draw off the attention of the enemy from Prussia, and give that monarch time to respire. Beside this intention, England also hoped to give a blow to their marine, by destroying such ships as were building, or were laid up in the harbour of Rochford, against which city their operations were principally intended. The English ministry kept the object of the enterprize a profound secret; and France was for some time filled with apprehensions, till at length the sleet appeared before Rochford, where the commanders spent some time in deliberating how to proceed. After some consultation, it was determined to secure the little island of Aix, an easy conquest, and of no benefit to the invaders. In the mean time, the militia of the country, recovering from their consternation, had leisure to assemble, and there was the appearance of two camps upon shore. The commanders, therefore, who from the badness of the weather, were prevented from landing, now began to fear greater dangers from the enemy on land. They took into consideration the badness of the coast, the danger of landing, the time the city had been preparing for a vigorous defence, and their own unfitness to reduce it by any other means but a sudden attack. This consideration induced them to desist from further operations; and they unanimously resolved to return home, without making any effort.
From this expedition, therefore, the king of Prussia reaped but very little advantage; and the despondence among the English was so great, that the ministry had thoughts of giving up his cause entirely. It was supposed that no military efforts could save him; and that the only hope remaining was to make the best terms possible for him with his victorious enemies. The king of England was actually meditating a negociation of this nature, when his distressed ally expostulated with him to the following purpose.
"Is it possible that your majesty can have so little fortitude and constancy as to be dispirited by a small reverse of fortune. Are our affairs so ruinous that they cannot be repaired? Consider the step you have made me undertake, and remember you are the cause of all my misfortunes. I should never have abandoned my former alliances, but for your flattering assurances. I do not now repent of the treaty concluded between us; but I entreat that you will not ingloriously leave me at the mercy of my enemies, after having brought upon me all the powers of Europe."
In this terrible situation, England resolved, more from motives of generosity, than of interest, to support his declining cause; and success that had for a long time fled her arms, once more began to return with double splendour. The efforts of the parliament only rose by defeat; and every resource seemed to augment with multiplied disappointment.
CHAP. L. GEORGE II. (Continued.)
THE East was the quarter on which success first began to dawn upon the British arms. The war in our Asiatic territories had never been wholly suspended. It was carried on at first by both nations, under the colour of lending assistance to the contending chiefs of the country, but the allies soon became the principals in the contention. This war at first, and for a long time after the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was carried on with doubtful success; but at length the affairs of the English seemed to gain the ascendancy, by the conduct of Mr. Clive. This gentleman had at first entered the company's service in a civil capacity, but finding his talents more adapted for war, he gave up his clerkship, and joined among the troops as a volunteer. His courage, which is all that subordinate officers can at first shew, soon became remarkable, but his conduct, expedition, and military skill soon after became so conspicuous as to raise him to the first rank in the army.
The first advantage that was obtained from his activity and courage was the clearing the province of Arcot. Soon after the French general was taken prisoner; and the nabob, whom the English supported, was reinstated in the government, of which he had formerly been deprived.
The French, discouraged by these misfortunes, and sensible of their own inferiority in this part of the globe, sent over a commissary to Europe to restore peace. A convention between the two companies was accordingly concluded, importing, that the territories taken on either side since the conclusion of the last peace should be mutually restored; that the nabobs advanced by the influence of either party should be acknowledged by both; and that for the future neither should interfere in the differences that should arise between the princes of the country.
This cessation, which promised such lasting tranquillity, was, nevertheless, but of short duration. Compacts made between trading companies can never be of long continuance, when advantage is opposed to good faith. In a few months both sides renewed their operations, no longer under the name of auxiliaries, but as rivals in arms, in government, and in commerce. What the motives to this infraction were, are not sufficiently known; but wherever there is trade, there is avarice; and that is a passion that breaks the bounds of equity. Certain it is, that the prince of the greatest power in that country declared war against the English from motives of personal resentment, and, levying a numerous army, laid siege to Calcutta, one of the principal British forts in that part of the world; but which was not in a state of strength to defend itself against the attack of even barbarians. The fort was taken, having been deserted by the commander; and the garrison, to the number of an hundred and forty-six persons, were made prisoners.
They expected the usual treatment of prisoners of war, and were therefore the less vigorous in their defence; but they soon found what mercy was to be expected from a savage conqueror. They were all crowded together into a narrow prison, called the Black Hole, of about eighteen feet square, and receiving air only by two small iron windows to the west, which by no means afforded a sufficient circulation. It is terrible to reflect on the situation of these unfortunate men, shut up in this narrow place, in the burning climate of the east, and suffocating each other. Their first efforts, upon perceiving the effects of their horrid confinement, were to break open the door of the prison; but as it opened inward, they soon found that impossible. They next endeavoured to excite the compassion, or the avidity of the guard, by offering him a large sum of money for his assistance in removing them to separate prisons; but with this he was not able to comply, as the viceroy was asleep, and no person dared to disturb him. They were now, therefore, left to die without hopes of relief; and the whole prison was filled with groans, shrieks, contest, and despair. This turbulence, however, soon after sunk into a calm, still more hideous; their efforts of strength and courage were over, and an expiring languor succeeded. In the morning, when the keepers came to visit the prison, all was horror, silence, and desolation. Of an hundred and forty-six who had entered alive, twenty-three only survived, and of these the greatest part died of putrid fevers upon being set free.
The destruction of this important fortress served to interrupt the prosperous successes of the English company. But the fortune of Mr. Clive, backed by the activity of an English fleet under admiral Watson, still turned the scale in their favour. Among the number of those who felt the power of the English in this part of the world was the famous Tullagee Angria, a piratical prince, who had long infected the Indian ocean, and made the princes on the coast his tributaries. He maintained a large number of gallies, and with these he attacked the largest ships, and almost ever with success. As the company had been greatly harrassed by his depredations, they resolved to subdue such a dangerous enemy, and attack him in his own fortress. In pursuance of this resolution, admiral Watson and colonel Clive sailed into his harbour of Geriah; and though they sustained a warm fire as they entered, yet they soon threw all his sleet into flames, and obliged his fort to surrender at discretion. The conquerors found there a large quantity of warlike stores, and effects to a considerable value.
From this-conquest colonel Clive proceeded to take revenge for the cruelty practised upon the English at Calcutta; and about the beginning of December arrived at Balasore, in the kingdom of Bengal. He met with little opposition either to the fleet or the army, till they came before Calcutta, which seemed resolved to stand a regular siege. As soon as the admiral, with two ships, arrived before the town, he received a furious fire from all the batteries, which he soon returned with still greater execution, and in less than two hours obliged them to abandon their fortifications. By these means the English took possession of the two strongest settlements on the banks of the Ganges; but that of Geriah they demolished to the ground.
Soon after these successes, Hughly, a city of great trade, was reduced with as little difficulty as the former; and all the viceroy of Bengal's store-houses and granaries were destroyed. In order to repair these losses, this barbarous prince assembled an army of ten thousand horse, and fifteen thousand foot, and professed a firm resolution of expelling the English from all their settlements in that part of the world. Upon the first intelligence of his march, colonel Clive obtaining a reinforcement of men from the admiral's ships, advanced with his little army to attack these numerous forces. He attacked the enemy in three columns; and though the numbers were so disproportioned, victory soon declared in favour of the English. This, as well as several other victories gained by this commander against such a numerous enemy, teach us no longer to wonder at those conquests which were gained formerly by European troops over this weak and effeminate people. Indeed, what can slavish Asiatic troops do against an army, however small, hardened by discipline, and animated by honour. All the customs, habits, and opinions of the Asiatics, tend to effeminate the body, and dispirit the mind. When we conceive a body of men led up to the attack dressed in long silken garments, with no other courage than what opium can inspire, no other fears from a defeat, but that of changing their tyrant, with their chief commander mounted on an elephant, and consequently a more conspicuous object of aim, their artillery drawn by oxen, impatient and furious on the slightest wound, every soldier among them unacquainted with cool intrepidity, which provides against danger, and only fighting by the same fury that raises their passions; if we consider all these circumstances, we shall not be surprised at European victories, and that two or three thousand men are able to defeat the largest armies they can bring into the field. All the heroism of a Cyrus, or an Alexander, in this view will sink in our esteem, and no longer continue the object of admiration.
A victory so easily acquired by a small body of foreigners soon rendered the viceroy of Bengal contemptible to his subjects at home. His cowardice now rendered him despicable, and his former cruelty odious. A conspiracy, therefore, was projected against him by Ali Kan, his prime minister; and the English having private intimations of the design, they resolved to second it with all their endeavours. Accordingly, colonel Clive, knowing that he had a friend in the enemy's camp, marched forward, and soon came up with the viceroy, who had by this time recruited his army, and fitted it once more for action. After a short contest, however, Clive was as usual victorious; the whole Indian army was put to flight, and routed with terrible slaughter. Ali Kan, who first incited his master to this undertaking, had hitherto concealed his attachments to the English, till he saw there was no danger from his perfidy. But upon the assurance of the victory, he openly espoused the side of the, conquerors, and in consequence of his private services was solemnly proclaimed by colonel Clive viceroy of Bengal, Rahar, and Orixa, in the room of the former nabob, who was solemnly deposed, and soon after put to death by his perfidious successor.
The English having placed a viceroy on the throne (for the Mogul had long lost all power in India) they took care to exact such stipulations in their own favour, as would secure them the possession of the country whenever they thought proper to resume their authority. They were gratified in their avarice to its extremest wish; and that wealth which they had plundered from slaves in India, they were resolved to employ in making slaves at home.
From the conquest of the Indians, colonel Clive turned to the humbling of the French, who had long disputed empire in that part of the world. Chadenagore, a French settlement higher up the Ganges than Calcutta, was compelled to submit to the English arms. The goods and money found in this place were considerable; but the chief damage the French sustained, was from the ruin of this their chief settlement on the Ganges, by which they had long divided the commerce of this part of the continent. Thus in one campaign, which was carried on by the activity of Clive, and seconded by the operations of the admirals Watson and Pococke, the English became possessed of a territory superior in wealth, fertility, extent, and the number of its inhabitants, to any part of Europe. Above two millions sterling were paid to the company and the survivors of the imprisonment at Calcutta; the soldiers and seamen shared six hundred thousand pounds, and the English power became irresistible in that part of the world.
This success was not a little alarming to the French ministry; and it is supposed that even the Dutch entertained some jealousy of this growing greatness. To make some degree of opposition, they sent out a considerable reinforcement under the command of general Lally, an Irishman, from whose great experience sanguine hopes were conceived. Lally was one of the bravest soldiers in the French service, but the most unfit man in the world to be connected with a trading company, as he was fierce, proud, and precipitate, not without a mixture of avarice, which tempted him to share in their gain. He had been from his youth bred up to arms, and carried the spirit of discipline to a faulty extreme, in a place where the nature of the service required its relaxation.
Under the guidance of this whimsical man, the affairs of the French for some time seemed to wear a face of success. He took from the English their settlement of fort St. David's, and plundered the country of the king of Tanjour, in alliance with the enemy. He then entered the province of Arcot, and prepared for laying siege to Madrass, the chief settlement of the English on the coast of Coromandel. In the siege of this important place, a greater variety of difficulties presented than he had expected or prepared for. The artillery of the garrison was well managed, while on the other side the French soldiers acted with the greatest timidity; nor did even the council of Pondicherry second the ardour of the general. It was in vain that Lally attempted to lead on his men to a breach that had been practicable for several days, it continued open for a fortnight, and not one dared to venture the assault. To add to his embarrassments, he was very ill supplied with provisions, and he found the garrison had received a reinforcement. Despairing, therefore, of success, he raised the siege, and this so intimidated his troops, that they seemed quite dispirited in every succeeding operation.
But while success was thus doubtful between the two contending nations, a rupture seemed to be in preparation upon a quarter where the English least expected. The Dutch, under pretence of reinforcing their garrisons in Bengal, equipped a strong armament of seven ships, which was ordered to sail up the Ganges, and render their fort at Chincura so formidable as to exclude all other nations from the salt-petre trade, which was carried on there, and thus monopolize so beneficial a commodity. This design, however, colonel Clive thought proper to oppose. He accordingly sent the Dutch commander a letter, informing him that he could not permit his landing, and marching his forces to the fort intended, as he foresaw that it would be detrimental to the commerce of Europe. To this message the Dutchman replied, that he had no such designs of a monopoly as were imputed to him, and he only requested the liberty to land and refresh his troops, which request, so seemingly reasonable, was quickly granted. However, the Dutch commander continued submissive no longer than he supposed himself unable to act with vigour, for as soon as he knew that the ships which were to second his operations were come up the river, he boldly began his march to Chincura, and took several small vessels belonging to the English in his passage up the river, to retaliate for the affront he pretended to have received.
Whether the Calcutta Indiaman was sent out upon this occasion to oppose the Dutch, or whether it was only pursuing its voyage down the river to England, is not known; but certain it is, that she was prevented by the Dutch commander from going onward, and obliged to return to Calcutta with the complaints of this treatment to colonel Clive. The colonel was not flow in vindicating the honour of his country; and as there happened to be three India ships at that time in the harbour, he gave them instant orders to meet the Dutch fleet, and sink them if they offered to resist. This command was obeyed with great alacrity; but after a few broadsides on either side, the Dutch commander struck, and the rest of the fleet followed his example. The victory thus obtained, without any great damage, captain Wilson, who commanded in the expedition, took possession of the fleet of the enemy, and sent their men prisoners to the English fort; while about the same time their land forces were defeated by colonel Ford, sent by Clive upon that duty. This contest had like to have produced a new rupture in that part of the world; but a negociation soon after ensuing, the Dutch wisely gave way to a power they were not able to withstand, and were content to sit down with the loss.
In the mean time the operations against the French were carried on with much more splendid success. The troops headed by colonel Coote, a native of Ireland, and possessed of prudence and bravery, marched against general Lally, resolved to come to a decisive engagement. On his march he took the city of Wandewash, he afterwards reduced the fortress of Carangoly, and at length came up with the French general, who had no thoughts of declining the engagement. In the morning early the French advanced within three quarters of a mile of the English line, and the cannonading began with great fury on both sides. The engagement continued with great obstinacy till about two in the afternoon, when the French gave way, and fled towards their camp, which they as quickly abandoned, leaving their baggage, cannon, and the field of battle to the conquerors.
The retaking the city of Arcot, was the consequence of this victory; and nothing now remained to the French, of all their former dominions in India, but the strong town of Pondicherry, their largest and most beautiful settlement. This city, which was the capital of the French establishments in India, exceeded, in the days of its prosperity, all other European factories there, in trade, opulence, and splendour; and whatever wealth the French still possessed, after repeated losses, was deposited there. As soon as the fortresses adjacent were reduced, colonel Coote sat down before the city, determined to blockade it by land, while admiral Stevens shut up the harbour by sea. A regular siege was at that time impracticable, from the periodical rains which in that climate would not fail soon to obstruct all such operations. However, neither the rains nor the inclemency of the climate, were able to abate the ardour of the besiegers; the blockade was continued, and the garrison was pressed in such a manner, that it was reduced to the most extreme distress. The French soldiers were obliged to feed on dogs and cats; however, Lally, the commander, was detertermined to hold out to the last. In the midst of the garrison's distress, fortune seemed to give an opportunity of relief, had it been seized with vigour. One of those terrible tempests, common in that climate, wrecked a large part of the English fleet that was blocking up the harbour. Lally wrote the most pressing letters to the French residents at the Dutch settlements, to be supplied with provisions, but to his mortification, instead of seeing the French boats coming to his relief, he only saw, in less than four days, the English admiral again entering the harbour, having repaired the damage he had lately sustained. Lally, however, still determined to hold out, and with a savage obstinacy saw his troops half consuming with fatigue and famine round him. At length, finding that a breach had been made in the rampart, and that no more than one day's provision remained, he permitted a signal to be made for ceasing hostilities. Yet still the strong perverseness of his temper continued; he sent a paper filled with reproaches against the English, he alledged that he would not treat upon honourable terms with an enemy that had transgressed all the laws of honour. He, surrendered the place not in his own person, but permitted some under officers in the garrison to obtain terms of capitulation. This conquest put an end to the power of France in India. The chief part of the territory and trade of that vast peninsula, from the Indus to the Ganges, was annexed to the British empire. The princes of the country, after some vain opposition to the English power, were at length contented to submit; and the whole country has since continued our own.
In the mean time, while conquest shined upon us from the East, it was still more splendid in the western world. But some alterations in the ministry, led to those successes which had been long wished for by the nation, and were at length obtained. The affairs of war had been hitherto directed by a ministry, but ill supported by the commons, because not confided in by the people. They seemed timid and wavering; and but feebly held together, rather by their fears than their mutual confidence. When any new measure was proposed, which could not receive their approbation, or any new member was introduced into government whom they did not appoint, they considered it as an infringement upon their respective departments, and threw up their places in disgust, with a view to resume them with greater lustre. Thus the strength of the crown was every day declining, while an aristocracy filled up every avenue to the throne, intent only on the emoluments, not the duties of office.
This was at that time the general opinion of the people, and it was too loud not to reach the throne. The ministry that had hitherto hedged in the throne, were at length obliged to admit some men into a share of the government, whose activity at least would counter-balance their timidity and irresolution. At the head of the newly introduced party, was the celebrated Mr. William Pitt, from whose vigour the nation formed very great expectations, and they were not deceived.
But though the old ministers were obliged to admit these new members into their society, there was no legal penalty for refusing to operate with them; they therefore associated with each other, and used every art to make their new assistants obnoxious to the king, upon whom they had been in a manner forced by the people. His former ministry flattered him in all his attachments to his German dominions, while the new had long clamoured against all continental connexions, as utterly imcompatible with the interest of the nation. These two opinions carried to the extreme, might have been erroneous; but the king was naturally led to side with those who favoured his own sentiments, and to reject those who opposed them. Mr. Pitt, therefore, after being a few months in office, was ordered to resign by his majesty's command, and his coadjutor, Mr. Legge, was displaced from being chancellor of the exchequer. But this blow to his ambition was but of short continuance; the whole nation, almost to a man, seemed to rise up in his defence, and Mr. Pitt and Mr. Legge, were once more reluctantly restored to their former employments, the one of secretary of state, the other of chancellor of the exchequer.
The consequences of the former ill conducted counsels still seemed to continue in America. The generals sent over to manage the operations of the war, loudly accused the timidity and delays of the natives, whose duty it was to unite in their own defence. The natives, on the other hand, as warmly expostulated against the pride, avarice, and incapacity of those sent over to command them. General Shirley, who had been appointed to the supreme command there, had been for some time recalled, and replaced by lord Loudon; and this nobleman also soon after returning to England, three several commanders were put at the head of separate operations. General Amherst commanded that designed against the island of Cape Breton. The other was consigned to general Abercrombie, against Crown Point and Ticonderago; and the third still more to the southward, against fort du Quesne, commanded by brigadier-general Forbes.
Cape Breton, which had been taken from the French during the preceding war, had been restored at the treaty of Aix la Chapelle. It was not till the English had been put in possession of that island, that they began to perceive its advantageous situation; and the convenience of its harbour for annoying the British trade with impunity. It was also a convenient port for carrying on their fishery, a branch of commerce of the utmost benefit to that nation. The wresting it, therefore, once more from the hands of the French, was a measure ardently desired by the whole nation. The fortress of Louisburg, by which it was defended, had been strengthened by the assistance of art, and was still better defended from the nature of its situation. The garrison also was numerous, the commander vigilant, and every precaution taken to oppose a landing. An account of the operations of the siege can give but little pleasure in abridgement, be it sufficient to say, that the English surmounted every obstacle with great intrepidity. Their former timidity and irresolution seemed to vanish, their natural courage and confidence returned, and the place surrendered by capitulation. The fortifications were soon after demolished, and rendered unfit for future protection.
The expedition to Fort du Quesne was equally successful; but that against Crown Point was once more defeated. This was now the second time that the English army had attempted to penetrate into those hideous wilds; by which nature had secured the French possessions in that part of the world. Braddock fell in the attempt a martyr to his impetuosity; too much caution was equally injurious to his successor. Abercrombie spent much time in marching to the place of action; and the enemy were thus perfectly prepared to give him a severe reception. As he approached Ticonderago, he sound them deeply intrenched at the foot of the fort, and still farther secured by fallen trees, with their branches pointing against him. These difficulties the English ardour attempted to surmount; but as the enemy being secure themselves, took aim at leisure, a terrible carnage of the assailants ensued; and the general, after repeated efforts, was obliged to order a retreat. The English army, however, was still superior; and it was supposed that when the artillery was arrived, something more successful might be performed; but the general felt too sensibly the terrors of the late defeat to remain in the neighbourhood of a triumphant enemy. He therefore withdrew his troops, and returned to his camp at Lake George, from whence he had taken his departure.
But though in this respect the English arms were unsuccessful, yet upon the whole the campaign was greatly in their favour. The taking of Fort du Quesne served to remove from their colonies the terror of the incursions of the Indians, while it interrupted that correspondence which ran along a chain of forts, with which the French had environed the English settlements in America. This, therefore, promised a fortunate campaign the next year, and vigorous measures were taken to ensure success.
Accordingly, on the opening of the following year, the ministry, sensible that a single effort carried on in such an extensive country, could never reduce the enemy, they resolved to attack them in several parts of their empire at once. Preparations were accordingly made, and expeditions driven forward against three different parts of North America at the same time. General Amherst, the commander in chief, with a body of twelve thousand men, was to attack Crown Point, that had hitherto been the reproach of the English army. General Wolfe was at the opposite quarter to enter the river St. Lawrence, and undertake the siege of Quebec, the capital of the French dominions in America; while general Prideaux, and Sir William Johnson, were to attempt a French fort, near the cataracts of Niagara.
The last named expedition was the first that succeeded. The fort of Niagara was a place of great importance, and served to command all the communication between the northern and western French settlements. The siege was begun with vigour, and promised an easy conquest; but general Prideaux was killed in the trenches, by the bursting of a mortar; so that the whole command of the expedition devolved upon general Johnson, who omitted nothing to push forward the vigorous operations of his predecessor, to which also he added his own popularity with the soldiers under him. A body of French troops, who were sensible of the importance of this fort, attempted to relieve it; but Johnson attacked them with intrepidity and success; for in less than an hour their whole army was put to the rout. The garrison soon after perceiving the fate of their countrymen, surrendered prisoners of war. The success of general Amherst was less splendid though not less serviceable; upon arriving at the destined place, he found the forts both of Crown Point and Ticonderago deserted and destoyed.
There now, therefore, remained but one grand and decisive blow to put all North America into the possession of the English; and this was the taking of Quebec, the capital of Canada, a city handsomely built, populous, and flourishing. Admiral Saunders was appointed to command the naval part of the expedition; the siege by land was committed to the conduct of general Wolfe, of whom the nation had great expectations. This young soldier, who was not yet thirty-five, had distinguished himself on many former occasions, particularly at the siege of Louisburg;
A.D.
1759
a part of the success of which was justly ascribed to him, who, without being indebted to family or connexions, had raised himself by merit to his present command.
The war in this part of the world had been hitherto carried on with extreme barbarity; and retaliating murders were continued without any one's knowing who first began. Wolfe, however, disdained to imitate an example that had been set him even by some of his associate officers; he carried on the war with all the spirit of humanity which it admits of. It is not our aim to enter into a minute detail of the siege of this city, which could at best only give amusement to a few; it will be sufficient to say, that when we consider the situation of the town on the side of a great river, the fortifications with which it was secured, the natural strength of the country, the great number of vessels and floating batteries the enemy had provided for the defence of the river, the numerous bodies of savages continually hovering round the English army, we must own there was such a combination of difficulties, as might discourage and perplex the most resolute commander. The general himself seemed perfectly sensible of the difficulty of the undertaking. After stating, in a letter to the ministry, the dangers that presented.
"I know, said he, that the affairs of of Great Britain require the most vigorous measures. But then the courage of an handful of brave men should be exerted only where there is some hope of a favourable event. At present the difficulties are so various, that I am at a loss now to determine."
The only prospect of attempting the town with success was by landing a body of troops in the night below the town, who were to clamber up the banks of the river, and take possession of the ground on the back of the city. This attempt, however, appeared peculiarly discouraging. The stream was rapid, the shore shelving, the bank above lined with centinels, the landing-place so narrow as to be easily missed in the dark, and the steepiness of the ground such as hardly to be surmounted in the day time. All these difficulties, however, were surmounted by the conduct of the general, and the bravery of the men. Colonel Howe, with the light infantry and the Highlanders, ascended the woody precipices with admirable courage, and activity, and dislodged a small body of troops that defended a narrow path way up the bank; thus a few mounting, the general drew the rest up in order as they arrived. Monsieur de Montcalm, the French commander, was no sooner apprized that the English had gained these heights, which he had confidently deemed inaccessible, than he resolved to hazard a battle; and a furious encounter quickly began. This was one of the most desperate engagements during this war. The French general was slain; the second in command shared the same fate. General Wolfe was stationed on the right, where the attack was most warm; as he stood conspicuous in the front line, he had been aimed at by the enemies marksmen, and received a shot in the wrist, which, however, did not oblige him to quit the field. Having wrapped an handkerchief round his hand, he continued giving orders without the least emotion, and advanced at the head of the grenadiers with their bayonets fixed; but a second ball more fatal, pierced his breast; so that unable to proceed, he leaned on the shoulder of a soldier that was next him. Now struggling in the agonies of death, and just expiring, he heard a voice cry, They run! upon which he seemed for a moment to revive, and asking who ran, was informed the French. Expressing his wonder that they ran so soon, and unable to gaze any longer, he sunk on the soldier's breast, and his last words were,
"I die happy."
Perhaps the loss of the English that day was greater than the conquest of Canada was advantageous. But it is the lot of mankind only to know true merit on that dreadful occasion, when they are going to lose it.
The surrender of Quebec was the consequence of this victory; and with it soon after the total cession of all Canada. The French, indeed, the following season made a vigorous effort to retake the city; but by the resolution of governor Murray, and the appearance of an English fleet under the command of lord Colvile, they were obliged to abandon the enterprize. The whole province was soon after reduced by the prudence and activity of general Amherst, who obliged the French army to capitulate, and it has since remained annexed to the British empire. To these conquests about the same time was added the reduction of the island of Guadalupe, under commodore More, and general Hopson, an acquisition of great importance; but which was restored at the succeeding peace.
These successes in India and America were great, tho' atchieved by no very expensive efforts; on the contrary, the efforts the English made in Europe, and the operations of their great ally, the king of Prussia, were astonishing, yet produced no signal advantages. A defensive war in Germany was all that could be expected; and that he maintained against the united powers of the continent with unexampled bravery. We left the French and Imperialists triumphing in repeated successes, and enjoying the fruits of an advantageous summer-campaign. But as if summer was not sufficient for the horrors of war, they now resolved to exert them even amidst the rigours of winter, and in the depth of that season set down and formed the siege of Leipsic. The capture of that city would have been fatal to the interests of the king; and by one of those rapid marches, for which he was remarkable, he seemed with his army, unexpectedly, to rise up before the town. Such was the terror of his arms, that even vanquished as he seemed, the French, though superior in numbers, raised the siege, and retreated. He was resolved to pursue, and at length overtook them at a village called Rosbach, where he gained so complete a victory, that night alone saved their whole army from destruction.
In the mean time, the Austrians in another part of the empire, were victorious, and had taken the prince of Bevern, the king of Prussia's generalissimo, prisoner. The king having just fought a battle, again undertook a dreadful march of two hundred miles in the depth of winter, and came up with the Austrian army near Breslau. He there disposed his forces with his usual celerity and judgment, and obtained another bloody victory, in which he took not less than fifteen thousand prisoners. Breslau, with a garrison of ten thousand men, surrendered soon after. These successes dispirited the enemy, and gave his distressed Hanoverian allies fresh hopes of being able to expel the French troops from their territories.
Soon after the capitulation of Closter Seven had been signed between the duke of Cumberland, and the duke of Richelieu, both sides began to complain that the treaty was not strictly observed. The Hanoverians exclaimed against the rapacity of the French general, and the brutality of his soldiers. The French retorted the charge against them, accused them of insolence and insurrection, and resolved to bind them strictly to the terms of their agreement, sensible of their own superiority. Treaties between nations are seldom observed any longer than interest or fear hold the union; and among nations that take every advantage, political faith is a term without meaning. The Hanoverians only wanted a pretext to take arms, and a general to head them. Neither were long wanting. The oppressions of the tax gatherers, whom the French had appointed, were considered as so severe, that the army once more rose to vindicate their freedom, while Ferdinand, prince of Brunswick, put himself at their head.
Nothing could be more fortunate for the interests of the king of Prussia than this sudden insurrection of the Hanoverian forces. From this time he began to oppose the enemy upon more equal terms; he faced them on every side, often victorious, sometimes repulsed, but ever formidable. Never was the art of war carried to such a pitch as by him, and it must be added, its horrors also. In this war, Europe saw, with astonishment, campaigns carried on in the midst of winter, great and bloody battles fought, yet producing no visible advantage to the victors. At no time since the days of heroism, were such numbers destroyed, so many towns taken, so many skirmishes fought, such stratagems practised, or such intrepidity discovered. Armies were, by the German discipline, considered as composing one great machine, directed by one commander, and animated by a single will. From the commentary of these campaigns, succeeding generals will take their lessons of devastation, and improve upon the arts encreasing human calamity.
England was all this time happily retired from the miseries which oppressed the rest of Europe; yet from her natural military ardour she seemed desirous of sharing those dangers, of which she was only a spectator. This passion for sharing in a continental war was not less pleasing to the king of England, from his native attachments, than from a desire of revenge upon the plunderers of his country. As soon, therefore, as it was known that prince Ferdinand had put himself at the head of the Hanoverian army, his Britannic majesty, in a speech to his parliament, observed, that the late successes of his ally in Germany had given an happy turn to his affairs, which it would be necessary to improve. The commons concurred in his sentiments, and liberally granted supplies both for the service of the king of Prussia, and for enabling the army formed in Hanover to act vigorously in conjunction with him.
From sending money over into Germany, the nation began to extend their benefits; and it was soon considered that men would be a more grateful supply. Mr. Pitt, who had at first come into popularity and power by opposing such measures, was now prevailed on to enter into them with even greater ardour than any of his predecessors. The hopes of putting a speedy end to the war by vigorous measures, the connexions with which he was obliged to co-operate, and perhaps the pleasure he found in pleasing the king, all together incited him eagerly to push forward a continental war. However, he only conspired with the general inclinations of the people at this time, who, allured by the noble efforts of their only ally, were unwilling to see him fall a sacrifice to the united ambition of his enemies.
In order to indulge this general inclination of assisting the king of Prussia, the duke of Marlborough was at first sent into Germany with small body of British forces to join with prince Ferdinand, whose activity against the French began to be crowned with success. After some small successes gained by the allied army at Crevelt, the duke of Marlborough dying, his command devolved upon lord George Sackville, who was at that time a favourite with the English army. However, a misunderstanding arose between him and the commander in chief, which soon had an occasion of being displayed at the battle of Minden, which was sought shortly after. The cause of this secret disgust on both sides is not clearly known; it is thought that the extensive genius, and the inquisitive spirit of the English general, were by no means agreeable to his superior in command, who hoped to reap some pecuniary advantages the other was unwilling to permit. Be this as it will, both armies advancing near the town of Minden, the French began the attack with great vigour, and a general engagement of the infantry ensued. Lord George, at the head of the British and Hanoverian horse, was stationed at some distance on the right of the infantry, from which they were divided by a scanty wood that bordered on an heath. The French infantry giving ground, the prince thought that this would be a favourable opportunity to pour down the horse among them, and accordingly sent lord George orders to come on. These orders were but ill obeyed; and whether they were unintelligible, or contradictory, still remains a point for posterity to debate upon. It is certain that lord George shortly after was recalled, tried by a courtmartial, found guilty, and declared incapable of serving in any military command for the future. The enemy however were repulsed in all their attacks with considerable loss, and at length giving way were pursued to the very ramparts of Minden. The victory was splendid, but laurels were the only advantage reaped from the field of battle.
After these victories, which were greatly magnified in England, it was supposed that one reinforcement more of British troops would terminate the war in favour of the allies, and a reinforcement was quickly sent. The British army in Germany now, therefore, amounted to above thirty thousand men, and the whole nation was flushed with the hopes of immediate conquest. But these hopes soon vanished in finding victory and defeat successively following each other. The allies were worsted at Corbach; but retrieved their honour at Exdorf. A victory at Warbourg followed shortly after, and another at Zierenberg; but then they suffered a defeat at Compen, after which both sides went into winterquarters. The successes thus on either side might be considered as a compact by which both engaged to lose much, and gain little; for no advantages whatever followed from victory. The English at length began to open their eyes to their own interest, and found that they were waging unequal war, and loading themselves with taxes for conquests that they could neither preserve nor enjoy.
It must be confessed, that the efforts of England, at this time, over every part of the globe, were amazing; and the expence of her operations greater than had ever been disbursed by any nation before. The king of Prussia received a subsidy; a large body of English forces commanded the extensive peninsula of India; another army of twenty thousand men confirmed their conquests in North America; there were thirty thousand men employed in Germany, and several other bodies dispersed in the different garrisons in various parts of the world; but all these were nothing to the force maintained at sea, which carried command wherever it came, and had totally annihilated the French power on that element. The courage and the conduct of the English admirals had surpassed whatever had been read of in history; neither superior force, nor number, nor even the terrors of the tempest, could intimidate them. Admiral Hawke gained a complete victory over an equal number of French ships, on the coast of Bretagne in Quiberon bay, in the midst of a tempest, during the darkness of the night, and what a seamen fears still more, upon a rocky shore.
Such was the glorious figure the British nation appeared in to all the world at this time. But while their arms prospered in every effort tending to the real interests of the nation, an event happened, which for a while obscured the splendour of her victories. On the twentyfifth of October, the king, without having complained of any previous disorder, was found, by his domestics, expiring in his chamber. He had arisen at his usual hour, and observed to his attendants, that as the weather was fine he would take a walk into the gardens of Kensington, where he then resided. In a few minutes after his return, being left alone, he was heard to fall down upon the floor. The noise of this bringing his attendants into the room, they lifted him into bed, where he desired, with a faint voice, that the princess Amelia might be sent for, but before she could reach the apartment he expired. An attempt was made to bleed him, but without effect; and afterwards, the surgeons, upon opening him, discovered that the right ventricle of the heart was actually ruptured, and that a great quantity of blood was discharged through the aperture.
George the second died in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and the thirty-third of his reign; lamented by his subjects, and in the midst of victory. If any monarch was happy in the peculiar mode of his death, and the precise time of its arrival, it was he. The universal enthusiasm of the people for conquest, was now beginning to subside, and sober reason to take her turn in the administration of affairs. The factions which had been nursing during his long reign, had not yet come to maturity; but threatened, with all their virulence, to afflict his successor. He was himself of no shining abilities; and while he was permitted to guide and assist his German dominions, he entrusted the care of Britain to his ministers at home. However, as we stand too near to be impartial judges of his merits or defects, let us state his character as delivered by two writers of opposite opinions.
"On whatever side, says his panegyrist, we look upon his character, we shall find ample matter for just and unsuspected praise. None of his predecessors on the throne of England, lived to so great an age, or enjoyed longer felicity. His subjects were still improving under him, in commerce and arts; and his own oeconomy set a prudent example to the nation, which, however, they did not follow. He was, in his temper, sudden and violent; but this, though it influenced his conduct, made no change in his behaviour, which was generally guided by reason. He was plain and direct in his intentions; true to his word, steady in his favour and protection to his servants, nor parting even with his ministers till compelled to it by the violence of faction. In short, through the whole of his life he appeared rather to live for the cultivation of useful virtues than splendid ones; and satisfied with being good, left others their unenvied greatness."
Such is the picture given by his friends, but there are others who reverse the medal.
"As to the extent of his understanding, or the splendour of his virtue, we rather wish for opportunities of praise, than undertake the task ourselves. His public character was marked with a predilection for his native country, and to that he sacrificed all other considerations. He was not only unlearned himself, but he despised learning in others; and though genius might have flourished in his reign, yet he neither promoted it by his influence or example. His frugality bordered upon avarice, and he hoarded not for his subjects, but himself. He was remarkable for no one great virtue, and was known to practise several of the meaner vices."
Which of these two characters are true, or whether they may not in part be both so, I will not pretend to decide. If his favourers are numerous, so are those who oppose them; let posterity, therefore, decide the contest.
INDEX.
A
ADDISON,
Mr. made secretary of state, 195
Almanza,
battle of, 123
Anne,
princess, deserts the interests of her father, 41—is suspected of disaffection, 73—ascends the throne of England, 91 —her parentage, ib.—her character at that time, ib.—her council divided in opinion, 92— is attached to the earl of Marlborough, why, 93—declares war against France, 94—her allegations against Lewis XIV. 95—creates Marlborough a duke, 98— gains the consent of the commons to augment her forces, 101—orders a magnificent palace to be built at Woodstock, 111—her noble deportment to Charles, son of the emperor, 116—her councils governed by a Whig ministry, 121—begins to balance in favour of the Tories, 122—appoints commissioners to treat of an union with Scotland, 127—gives the royal sanction to that happy event, 133—is attached to Mrs. Masham, 135 —bestows bishoprics on clergymen who had condemned the Revolution, 137—endeavours to reconcile her ministers, 139—is in danger of being deserted by her ministry, 140—perceives the unbounded power acquired over her counsels by the duke of Marlborough, and the lord treasurer, ib.—resolves to change her ministry, ib.—orders Harley to resign his office, ib.—reposes an entire confidence in that gentleman, 141—discovers a public partiality in favour of the Tories, ib.—is a private spectator at the trial of Sacheverel, 144—issues a proclamation for suppressing tumults, 145 — favours Sacheverel, 146—summons a new parliament, 148— receives addresses from all parts of the kingdom, 155— her reasons for disliking the Whig ministry, 156—is disgusted with the duchess of Marlborough, ib.—her conduct towards the duke of Marlborough, ib.—secure in her popularity, 157—dissembles her resentment towards the Whigs, ib.—wishes for the duke's removal, ib —treats the duchess with contempt, 158— begins the changes in her ministry, ib.—resolves to become entirely free, 159—displaces all the Whigs, Marlborough excepted, ib.—recommends the prosecution of the war with vigour, 160—dismisses Marlborough from all his employments, 166—transmits a memorial, from the court of France, to the Dutch, 170—orders her minister to sign certain preliminary articles, ib.— purport of her letter to the states general, 177—prevents a duel between the duke of Marlborough and the earl Pawlet, 178—ratifies the treaties of peace and commerce with France, 180 — informs her parlialiament of the steps she had taken, ib.—her disagreeable situation, 187—is perplexed in the choice of a treasurer, 188—declares she shall not survive the fatigue, ib. — sinks into a lethargy, ib.—her life is despaired of, 189—her death, 190—her character, 191
Anson,
commodore, appointed to the command of a squadron destined for the South-seas, 278—sails with five ships of the line, &c. ib.—lands on the island of St. Catharine, 279—his fleet dispersed by a tempest, ib.— attacks, plunders, and sets fire to the city of Paita, ib. —hopes to take one of the galleons, 280—traverses the Pacific Ocean, ib.—assembles all his men into one ship, ib. — steers for the island of Tinian, ib.—sails for China, ib.—steers for America, 281—discovers and takes a Spanish galleon, ib.—returns to England, ib.
Argyle,
John, duke of, opposes the earl of Marr, 215— some account of, ib.—defeats the rebels, 217
—, duke of, joins with Monmouth, 6—lands in Scotland, ib.—taken and executed, ib.
Ashton,
Mr. sent to inform James of a conspiracy formed in his favour, 71 — taken in his passage to France, ib. —tried and executed, ib.
Assassination
plot, account of, 79
Athlone,
taken by the English, 68
Atterbury,
Francis, bishop of Rochester, sent to the Tower, 243 — banished the kingdom, 245
Augbrim,
battle of, 67
B
BAKER,
major, his noble defence of Londonderry, 56
Balmerino,
lord, joins the rebels, 311—tried and found guilty, 324—beheaded on Tower-hill, ib.
Barcelona,
taken by the English, 117
Barclay,
sir George, engages in the assassination plot, 79— flies on the plots being discovered, 80
Barnard,
sir John, his scheme for diminishing the interest of the funds, 268
Ba
h,
earl of, declares for the prince of Orange, 39
Bedford,
earl of, his poignant answer to James II. 42
Benbow,
sent to the West-Indies, 99—deserted by three of his captains, 100— his death, 101
Bergen-op. Zoom,
taken by the French, 328
Bill
of rights, what, 51
Blackhole
at Calcutta, what, 376—dreadful scene there, 377
Blenheim,
battle of, 106
Blount,
Mr. forms the South-sea scheme, 209
Bolingbroke,
lord. See
St. John.
Bonne,
taken by the English, 102
Boyne,
battle of, 64
Bouchain,
taken by the allies, 165
Braddock,
general, marches against Fort du Quesne, 349 —his unfortunate deseat, 350
Breslau,
battle of, 402
Broxholme,
in Torbay, the prince of Orange lands at, 38
Bu
lington,
major, joins the prince of Orange, ib.
Byng,
sir George, sent to the Mediterranean, 233—totally deseats the Spanish fleet, 234
—, John, admiral, sent out with a fleet to relieve Minorca, 356—refused assistance from the governor of Gibraltar, ib.—makes no attempt to land troops for the relief of Minorca, ib.—descries a French fleet, ib. —resolves to act upon the defensive, ib.—his great skill in naval tactics, 357—keeps aloof while part of his fleet is engaged with the enemy, ib.—holds a council of war, ib.—incurs the national resentment, ib.— satisfied with his own conduct, 358—is ordered under an arrest, and brought to England, ib.—committed close prisoner at Greenwich, ib.—tried by a court martial, ib.—is condemned, but recommended as an object of mercy, ib.—his behaviour afterwards, 359 — is executed at Portsmouth, ib.
C
CALCUTTA,
taken by the Indians, 376—cruelty used there, ib —retaken by col. Clive, 379
Cape Breton,
taken by the English, 307 — restored to France, 331
Carteret,
lord, made secretary of state, 289—gains the confidence of the king, 296
Carthagena,
attacked by the English, under Vernon and Wentworth, 282—account of its trade, ib.
Catharine,
St. island of, 279
Castlemaine,
earl of, sent ambassador to Rome, 19—is received by the pope with contempt, ib.
Chadenagore
taken by col. Clive, 382
Charitable
Corporation, what, 262
Charles
XII. of Sweden, forms a scheme for invading England, 231—is killed before Fredericshall, ib.
Charles,
son to the old pretender, repairs to the court of France, 301—hated by the English, 307—some account of, 308—embarks for Scotland, ib.—lands in Lochaber, 309—proclaims his father king of great Britain, 310—enters Edinburgh, ib.—defeats sir John Cope, ib.—makes an irruption into England, 313— takes Carlisle, ib. — marches to Manchester, 314 — only the nominal leader, 315—retreats into Scotland, ib.—defeats general Hawley, 317—totally routed at Culloden, 319—flies to the mountains for safety, 321 —his melancholy condition, ib.—escapes to France, 323
Charnock,
engages in the assassination plot, 79—tried and executed, 80
Chesterfield,
lord, made secretary of state, 307
Chiefs,
in Scotland, their power destroyed, 325
Churchil,
John, lord, deserts from James II. to the prince of Orange, 40. See
Marlborough.
Clandestine
marriages, act against, 339
Clive,
Mr. who, 374—clears the province of Arcot, 375 —defeats Tullagree Angria, 378—advances to Calcutta, ib.—attacks and defeats the viceroy of Bengal, 379—obtains a second victory over that prince, 381— proclaims Ali Kan viceroy of Bengal, ib.—resolves to humble the French in India, 382—opposes the Dutch, for what, 385—orders three India ships to sink the Dutch fleet, 386
Closter-Seven,
treaty of, 369
Colchester,
lord, deserts to the prince of Orange, 39
Convention
with Spain, debates occasioned by, 270
Coote,
col. some account of, 386—defeats the French, 387
Cope,
sir John, sent against the rebels, 310—defeated at Preston-Pans, ib.
Corbach,
battle of, 407
Cornbury,
lord, deserts, with a large body, to the prince of Orange, 39
Cornish,
sheriff, condemned and executed, 13—his estate restored to his family, ib.
Cornwall,
captain, killed in the Mediterranean, 303
Cromartie,
lord, joins the rebels, 311—tried and found guilty, 324—pardoned, ib.
Culloden,
battle of, 318
Cumberland.
See
William,
duke of.
D
DANBY,
earl of, seizes York, 39
Declaration
of rights, 51
Delamere,
lord, takes arms in Cheshire, 39
Derwentwater,
lord, takes the field, and proclaims the pretender, 219—taken prisoner, 221 —executed for high-treason, 225
Dettingen,
ba ttle of, 29
Donavert,
battle of, 104
Dumblain,
battle of, 216
E
EUGENE,
prince, joins the duke of Marlborough, 105—some account of, ib.—defeats the French, 106—attacks Toulon without success, 123—sent over to England, 172
Excise
scheme, account of, 265
F
FALKIRK,
battle of, 317
Farmer,
refused the presidentship of Magdalen college, 22
Fenwick,
sir John, cited before the commons, 82—condemned by a bill of attainder, ib.—executed on Towerhill, 83
Ferdinand,
prince, commands the allied army, 403 — his great abilities, 404—defeats the French at Minden, 406—pursues his victories, 408
Fernandez,
Juan, island of, visited by Anson, 279
Feversham,
lord, commands the royal army sent against Monmouth, 8—defeats that nobleman, ib.—his cruelty, 10
Fitton,
an infamous fellow, created chancellor of Ireland, 19—his remarkable declaration on the bench, ib.
Fleury,
cardinal, account of, 292
Fontenoy,
battle of, 305
Forster,
Mr. takes the field, 219—proclaims the pretender, 220—takes possession of Preston, ib.—made prisoner, 221—escapes to the continent, 226
Francis,
father, refused a degree at the university of Cambridge, 21
Frederic,
prince of Wales, offends his father, 272—is ordered to quit the court, ib.—retires to Kew, 273— joins the country party, ib.—refuses the advantageous offers made him by sir Robert Walpole, 286—is reconciled to his father, 289
Freind,
sir John, tried and executed, 80
G
GAME-Act,
account of, 341
George
I repairs to Holland, 189—ascends the throne of England, 194—his character, ib.—his behaviour to his courtiers, 196—his, partiality to the Whigs, 197—raises the murmurs of the people, ib.—dissolves the parliament, and calls a new one, 200—complains of his subjects, ib.—openly heads the Whig party. 201 —his speech to the commons, ib.—attends the trial of the earl of Oxford, 211 —a rebellion formed against him in Scotland, 214—causes sir William Wyndham, and many others to be taken into custody, 218—rejects the address presented to him in favour of the rebels, 225—exercises great rigour towards the rebels, 226— is misled by his parliament, 229—resolves to visit his Hanoverian dominions, 230—arrives in Hanover, ib. —enters into a new treaty with the Dutch and the regent of France, 231—orders count Gyllenburg to be seized, ib.—obtains a supply to enable him to secure his Hanoverian dominions, ib.—enters into a war with Spain, 233—approves the conduct of sir George Byng, 234—concludes a peace, 235—returns from the continent, ib.—receives an address from the lords, 236 —receives information of a conspiracy formed against him, 242 — pardons lord Bolingbroke, 245 — orders the abuses of the court of chancery to be laid before the commons, 247—resolves to visit his Hanoverian dominions, 251—appoints a regency, and embarks for Holland, ib.—is taken ill on the road from Delden, ib.—his death, ib.—his character and issue, 252
George
II. ascends the throne, 254—his partiality for Hanover, ib.—disgusts the country party, 256 — is careless of his prerogative, 257—signs a treaty with the emperor and the king of Spain, 260—is offended with the prince of Wales, why, 272 — orders him to quit the court, ib.—declares war against Spain, 276 —creates sir Robert Walpole earl of Orford, 288— changes his ministry, 289—is reconciled to the prince of Wales, ib.—treats the earl of Bath with neglect, 290—resolves to head his army in the Netherlands, 291—his speech to the parliament, 296—arrives at the camp, 299—finds his army in a deplorable situation, ib.—is surrounded by the enemy, ib.—is attacked by the duke de Gramont, ib.—obliges him to repass the Mayne, ib.—his admirable courage, 300—a rebellion formed against him, 308—resolves to oppose the pretender in person, 315—appoints the earl of Sandwich and sir Thomas Robinson his plenipotentiaries at Aix la Chapelle, 330—concludes a treaty of peace, ib.— declares war against France, 352—rereceives the thanks of the Dutch, 354—alarmed for the safety of Hanover, 361—enters into an agreement with the king of Prussia, 362—meditates a negociation in favour of that monarch, 372—his new ministers rendered obnoxious to him, 391—orders Mr. Pitt to resign, ib.—his death, 410—his character, ib.
Geriah,
taken by Watson and Clive, 378
Ghent,
taken by the allies, 150
George,
prince of Denmark, deserts to the prince of Orange, 41
Gibraltar,
description of, 112—taken by the English, ib.
Ginckle,
general, commands the English army in Ireland, 66 — takes Athlone, 67 — defeats the Irish at Aughrim, 68—takes Limerick, 69
Gordon,
lord Lewis, joins the rebels, 316
Graunt,
Mrs. burnt for her benevolence, 13
Guiscard,
arrested for high-treason, 162—stabs Mr. Harley, ib.—his death, 163
H
Hallifax,
lord, makes a solemn tender of the crown to the prince of Orange, 49
Hanoverians,
who, 192
Harcourt,
sir Simon, who, 137—joins Mr. Harley, and Mr. St. John, ib.—relinquishes his employments, 141—defends Sacheverel, 145—receives the great seal, 160—his opinion concerning the trial of lord Oxford, 211
Harley,
Mr. secretary of state to queen Anne, 136— makes a tool of Mrs. Masham, ib.—his antipathy to the Whigs, ib.—his character, ib.—chooses Henry St. John for his coadjutor, ib.—joins him, and sir Simon Harcourt in rallying the scattered Tories, 137 —is opposed by Marlborough, 139—is suspected of holding a secret correspondence with Gregg, ib.— resigns his office, 140—possesses the entire confidence of the queen, 141—advises her to change the ministry, 158—is appointed chancellor of the exchequer, and under-treasurer, 159—his apparent moderation, 161—is in danger of being assassinated, ib. —acts in concert with Jersey, 169—created lord Oxford, 186—opposes lord Bolingbroke, ib.—his character, ib.—dissembles his hatred to lord Bolingbroke, ib.—advises moderate measures, 187—purport of his letter to the queen, ib.—is charged with having invited the duke of Marlborough to return to England, &c. 188—removed from his employments, ib.—is cooly received by George I. 196—taken into custody, 204—avoided by the peers, 205—is impeached at the bar of the house of lords, ib. —his speech, 206—meets with the applause of the people, 207—allowed a month only to prepare an answer to his impeachment, ib.—sent to the Tower, ib —his answer delivered to the house of lords, 209—is confined to the Tower for two years, 210—petitions to be brought to his trial, ib.—his accusers ordered to appear, 212—is set at liberty, ib.
Hawke,
admiral, defeats the French fleet, 329—gains a complete victory over the French fleet, 409
Hawley,
general, advances against the rebels, 316— —routed at Falkirk, 317—his gallant behaviour at Culloden, 319
Herbert,
admiral, assures the prince of Orange of his attachment to him, 32
La Hogue,
sea sight of, 73
Herring-fishery,
a bill passed for encouraging, 334
High-church
party, what, 137
High-commission
court, re-established, 17—annulled, 36
Hosier,
admiral, sent to South America, 250—dies of a broken heart, ib.
Hudson,
captain, deserts his admiral, 100—his death, 101
Hugely,
taken by col. Clive, 379
Hungary,
queen of, her situation at the death of her father, 295 — gains the ascendant, 298—confirmed in her patrimonial dominions, 331
Huy,
taken by the allies, 102
J.
JACOBITES,
who, 192
James
II. ascends the throne of England, 1—his religion, 2 —his inability to govern, ib.—disgusts his subjects, ib —his imprudent conduct, ib.—goes publicly to mass, ib.—sends an agent to Rome, ib.— changes his conduct, 3—obtains a revenue from the parliament, ib.—resolves to introduce the popish religion, 4—causes Oates to be severely punished, 5— an insurrection formed against him by Monmouth and Argyle, ib. — defeats Argyle, and puts him to death, 6—sends an army against Monmouth, 8—obtains a complete victory over the rebels, ib.—his ungenerous treatment of Monmouth, 9—causes that nobleman to be beheaded, 10—heaps honours on Jefferies for his horrid cruelties, 13—his peremptory conduct in the house of commons, 14—dissolves the parliament, 15 —appoints four catholic noblemen to be of his privy-council, ib.—creates a Jesuit, his confessor, a privy-counsellor, ib.—irritates the clergy of the church of England, 16—resolves to punish the bishop of London, 17 — revives the high-commission court, ib.— issues a declaration of general indulgence, 18—his artful conduct, ib.—grants a toleration to the catholics in Scotland, ib.—expels the protestants in Ireland, ib.—sends an ambassador to Rome, 19—his embassy treated with contempt by the pope, ib —his violent proceedings, 20—recommends a Benedictine monk to the degree of master of arts at Cambridge, 21 —his intentions frustrated, ib.—his arbitrary conduct at Oxford, 22—publishes a second declaration for liberty of conscience, 23—are vigorously opposed by the clergy, ib.—his fury against them greatly encreased by their petition, 24—his measures become odious to the people, ib.—summons the bishops to appear before the council, 25—commits the bishops to the Tower, ib.—is enraged against the judges for their acquittance of the bishops, 27—issues orders for prosecuting those of the clergy who had not read his declaration, ib.—tries his influence with the army, 28—his imprudent conduct with respect to his newborn son, ib.—his subjects apply for relief to the prince of Orange, 32—rejects the friendly offers of the king of France, 34—is alarmed by a letter from his minister in Holland, 35—endeavours by a change of conduct to regain the favour of his people, 36—relapses into his former errors, ib.—appoints the pope one of the sponsors to his son, ib.—his kingdom invaded by the prince of Orange, 38—his army join in the general revolt against him, 39—is abandoned by his servants, 40—applies to France and Germany for assistance, but is refused, ib.—repairs to Salisbury, ib. —is forsaken by his children, 41—his distressed situation, ib.—returns to London, ib.—is advised by his friends to quit the kingdom, 42—sends his queen to France, 43—escapes in disguise on board a vessel for France, ib.—is severely used by the populace, ib.— returns to London again, and is received with joy by the populace, 44—sends lord Feversham on a message to the prince of Orange, 45—is ordered to quit his palace, and retire to Ham, ib.—requests to be sent to Rochester, ib. — resolves to retire to France, ib. —embarks for the continent, 46—arrives in Picardy, ib. —is deposed by the parliament, 47—endeavours to maintain his right in Ireland, 53—is assisted by Lewis with a fleet and troops, 54—lands in Ireland, ib.— is received by the people with great acclamations of joy, 55—is oppressed by the protestants, ib.—lays siege to Londonderry, 56—is vigorously opposed by the inhabitants, ib.—raises the siege, 59—raises heavy contributions on the inhabitants, 60—exercises the utmost cruelty against the protestants, ib.—is opposed by William in person, 62 —attacks William's army, 64 — is totally defeated, ib.—repairs to Dublin, 65— embarks for France, ib.—his imprudent conduct, 66 —his army in Ireland entirely routed, 69—his friends endeavour to raise a rebellion in his favour, 70—is again assisted by Lewis, 72—is opposed by a fleet from England, 73—attacks the English fleet, ib.—is defeated, 74—forms a design against William's life, ib.—his death and character, 75—is interred, ib.
Jefferies,
judge, his savage cruelty, 12—created lord-chancellor, 13
Jews,
bill for naturalizing, 340
Johnson,
general, commands an army against Crown Point, 349
K
KEN,
bishop of Bath and Wells, joins in a remonstrance against reading the king's declaration, 23— summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib. tried and acquitted, 26
Kenmure,
lord, executed for high-treason, 225
Kirby,
captain, deserts his admiral, 100—shot at Plymouth, 101
Kirke,
colonel, his inhuman disposition, 11—his lambs, who, ib.—his answer to James II.16
—, general, relieves Londonderry, 58
Kilmarnock,
lord, joins the rebels, 311—tried and found guilty, 324—executed on Tower-hill, ib.
L
LA Feldt,
battle of, 328
Lake,
bishop of Chichester, remonstrates against reading the king's declaration, 23— summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib.—tried and acquitted, 26
Lally,
general, some account of, 383—his successes in India, ib.—obliged to raise the siege of Madrass, 384 —defeated by colonel Coote, 387
Layer,
Mr. Christopher, condemned and executed for high-treason, 246
Lestock,
admiral, commands the fleet in the Mediterranean, 332—superseded by admiral Matthews, ib.— refuses to attack the enemy, 303—tried by a courtmartial, and acquitted, 304
Liege,
taken by the English, 98
Limburgh
taken by the allies, 102
Limerick
taken by the English, 69
Lisle,
lady her unjust sentence, 12
— town of, taken by the allies, 150
Londonderry,
famous siege of, 55
Lovat,
lord, delivers up the castle of Inverness, 217
Lovat,
his unaccountable ambition, 311—found guilty of high-treason, 324—executed on Tower-hill, ib.
Louisburgh
taken by the English, 307—restored to France, 331
Loyde,
bishop of St. Asaph, remonstrates against reading the king's declaration, 23—summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib.—tried and acquitted, 26
M
MACCLESFIELD,
Thomas, earl of, account of his trial, 247
Magdalen-college,
noble defence of the fellows of, in support of their liberties, 22
Malaga,
sea-sight off, 113
Malplaquet,
battle of, 151
Marlborough,
earl of, suspected of disaffection, 73—advises a war with France, 92—his introduction and rise at court, ib.—becomes the favourite of the princess Anne, how, 93—his observations in council, ib. —is appointed general of the English forces, and generalissimo of the allied army, 96—learns the rudiments of war from marshal Turenne, ib.—his appellation in the French camp, 97—his noble method of choosing commanders, ib.—repairs to Nimeguen, ib. —opposed by the duke of Burgundy, ib.—obliges the French to retreat before him, ib.—takes the city of Liege, 98—returns to London, ib —receives the thanks of the house of commons, ib.—is created a duke, ib.—assembles the allied army, 102—reduces Bonne, &c. ib.—restrained by the Dutch, 103—resolves to act offensively, ib.—informs the Dutch that he shall march to the relief of the empire, ib.—arrives on the banks of the Danube, and defeats a body of French, 104—joined by prince Eugene, 105—defeats the enemy at Blenheim, 106—his reply to marshal Tallard, 110—repairs to Berlin and Hanover, ib. —returns to England, ib.—received with universal joy, ib —the manor of Woodstock conferred on him by both houses, ib.—a palace built for him by order of the queen, 111—opens the campaign, 118—resolves to attempt some signal action, 119—defeats the enemy, ib.—is disliked by the Tories, 122—returns to England, 125—his family placed about the queen, how, 134—is opposed by Mr. Harley, 136—endeavours to remove Oxford, 139—purport of his letter to the queen, ib —retires from court, 140—is sent for by the queen, ib.—loses her confidence, 141 — returns to the continent, ib.—his motives for continuing the war, 149—defeats the French at Oudenarde, ib.—attacks the enemy in their strong camp, 151—confirms the Dutch in their resolution of protracting the war, 153—loses his influence, at home, 155—purport of his letter to the queen concerning Mr. Hill, 156—begs leave to resign all his employments, 157—his friends endeavours to alarm the queen, ib.—is empowered to dispose of a regiment, ib.—his opinion of his situation, 160—hated by the people, 161—his courage and conduct called in question, ib.—the thanks of the house of commons refused him, ib.—leads on his forces against marshal Villars, 165—takes possession of a strong line of entrenchments, ib.—reduces Bouchain, ib.—leaves the allies in possession of a vast tract of country, 166—is accused of taking a bribe from a Jew, ib.—is dismissed from all his employments, ib.—his passion for money, ib.—his vast income, ib.—is succeeded by the duke of Ormond, 176—sends a challenge to earl Pawlet, 178—is accused of being the secret author of several tumults, 180—retires to the continent, ib.— receives marks of uncommon regard from George I. 196
Marlborough,
dutchess of, the confidante of queen Anne, 93—takes advantage of the easy temper of her mistress, 135—introduces Mrs. Masham to the queen, ib.—becomes insolent, ib.—finds herself supplanted by Mrs. Masham, 139—becomes insupportable to the queen, 156—endeavours to regain her confidence, 158—receives a sharp reply, ib
Marr,
earl of, proclaims the pretender at Castletown, 214—establishes his head-quarters at Perth, ib.—defeated by Argyle, 217
Masham,
Mrs. who, 135—is introduced to the queen, ib.—her artful conduct, ib —discovers the queen's inclinations for the Tory party, ib.—indulges her in it, ib.—is a tool of Mr. Harley's, 136—seconds the views of Bolingbroke, 138
Matthews,
takes the command of the fleet in the Mediterranean, 302—attacks the combined fleet of France and Spain, 303—deserted by Lestock, ib.—retires to Port Mahon, ib.—tried, and deprived of his command, ib.
Minden,
battle of, 406
Minorca,
island of, taken by the French, 355
Missisippi
scheme, what, 237
Monckton,
colonel, ordered to drive the French from their encroachments, 349
Monmouth,
duke of, resolves to invade England, 5— some account of, ib.—lands in Dorsetshire, 6—advances to Taunton, 7—assumes the title of king, ib. —defeated at Sedgemore, 8—his abject behaviour, 9 —his execution, 10
Mons,
taken by the allies, 153
Montgomery,
sir James, forms a conspiracy against king William, 70
Munden,
Sir John, dismissed from his employment, 98
Murray,
Alexander, his behaviour before the house of commons, 337
N
NITHISDALE,
lord, executed for high-treason, 225
Norris,
sir John, his ineffectual expeditions, 285—disconcerts the French, 302
Nova Scotia,
settled by the English, 342—some account of 343
O
OATES,
Titus, convicted of perjury, 4—his severe sentence, ib.—has a pension settled upon him, 5
Orange,
prince of. See
William
III.
Ormond,
duke of, dismissed from his employments, 15
Oudenarde,
battle of, 149
Oxford,
earl of. See
Harley.
P
PAITA,
taken by Anson, 279
Parker,
Dr. made president of Magdalen college by the king, 23
Paul,
William, executed for high-treason, 227
Pelham,
Henry, conducts the business of the nation, 334—reduces the interest of the funds, 335
Pendengast,
discovers the assassination plot, 80
Pepperell,
general, takes Louisburg, 308
Perkins,
sir William, tried and executed, 80
Peterborough,
earl of, short memoirs of, 116—convoys Charles to Spain, ib. — takes Barcelona, 117
Peters,
father, a Jesuit, made a privy-counsellor, 15— some account of, 29
Pitt,
Mr. William, opposes the bill which was framed for depriving the house of lords in Ireland of all right of final jurisdiction, 236—heads a party, 390—is ordered to resign his employ, 391—restored to his office of secretary of state, ib.
Pococke,
admiral, his success in the East Indies, 382
Porto Belo
taken by admiral Vernon, 277
Pragmatic
sanction, what, 295
Preston,
sent to inform James of a conspiracy formed in his favour, 71—taken in his passage to France, ib.— discovers his accomplices, ib.
Prussia,
king of, takes Silesia, 295—applied to by England, for what, 362—wishes to prevent the invasion of Germany by a foreign enemy, ib.—enters into an alliance with George II. ib.—his motives for this step, ib.—insists upon an explicit answer from the court of Vienna, 366—resolves to carry the war into his enemies country, ib.—enters Saxony, ib.—his artful conduct towards the elector, ib.—obliges him to disband his army, ib.—account of its situation, 367—his remarkable speech after his defeat at Kolin, 368—his desperate situation, 370—expostulates with the king of England, 372—raises the siege of Liepsic, 402—defeats the French at Rosbach, ib.—routs the Austrians near Breslau, ib.
Preston-Pans,
battle of, 310
Prior,
Matthew, sent to France with proposals for a peace, 170—accompanies lord Bolingbroke, 179 — continues resident at the French court, 180—taken into custody, 204
Pulteney,
William, created earl of Bath, 289—treated with neglect, 290
Q
QUADRUPLE
alliance, what, 232
R
RADCLIFFE,
brother to the earl of Derwentwater, executed, 324
Ramilies,
battle of, 119
Revolution,
account of, 50
Rights,
declaration of, 51
Riot
act, account of, 208
Rooke,
sir George, burns eighteen French ships at La Hogue, 74—is frustrated in his attempt upon Cadiz, 99—takes Vigo, ib —convoys a body of troops to Spain, 111 —takes Gibraltar, 112 — dismissed from his command, 113
Rosbach,
battle of, 402
Roucroux,
battle of, 328
Rowley,
admiral, retrieves the honour of the British flag, 307
Russel,
admiral, assures the prince of Orange of his attachment, 32—defeats the French fleet at La Hogue, 73
Ruth,
St. commands the Irish army, 66—slain in battle, 68
Ryswick,
treaty of, 84
S
SACHEVEREL,
Henry, who, 142—defends the doctrine of non-resistance, ib.—his sermons voted scandalous and seditious libels by the commons, 143— is brought to the bar of that house, ib.—is impeached of high crimes and misdemeanors, ib.—is admitted to bail, 144—his cause favoured by the multitude, ib. —is defended by sir Simon Harcourt, &c. 145 — his speech, ib. — is extolled as the champion of the church, 146—favoured by the queen, ib.—is found guilty, ib.—his sentence, ib.—is presented to a benefice in North Wales, 147—entertained by the university of Oxford, ib.—despised by the heads of the faction, ib.—receives great honours from several towns, ib.—bequeaths five hundred pounds to Dr. Atterbury, 246
Sackville,
lord George, his behaviour at the battle of Minden, 406—tried and dismissed, 407
St. John,
Henry, chosen by Mr. Harley for his coadjutor, 136—his character, ib.—endeavours, with that gentleman and sir Simon Harcourt, to rally the scattered Torles, 137—relinquishes his employ, 141— is made secretary of state, 160—created viscount Bolingbroke, 179—is sent to the court of France, ib.— received there with great marks of distinction, ib.— adjusts the interests of the duke of Savoy, &c. ib.— returns to England, ib.—opposes lord Oxford, 186— his character, ib. — dissembles his dislike to lord Oxford, ib. —advises the setting the Whigs at defiance, 187—charges lord Oxford with inviting Marlborough back to England, 188—his disagreeable situation, ib.—his ambition defeated, 189—withdraws to the continent, 203—purport of the letter he left behind him, ib.—is impeached of high-treason, 204— deprived of his honours in England, 209—obtains his majesty's pardon, 245
Sancroft,
archbishop of Canterbury, remonstrates against reading the king's declaration, 23—summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib.— tried and acquitted, 26
Saxe,
count, who, 304—made commander of the French army, ib —defeats the English at Fontenoy, 205—his rapid success, 306
Schomberg,
duke, appointed to command the English army, 60—some account of, ib.—slain in battle, 64— his character, 65
Sedgemore,
battle of, 8
Septennial
act passed, 230
Seymour,
sir Edward, joins the prince of Orange, 38
Sharpe,
Dr. declaims against a change in religion, 16— ordered to be suspended, 17
Shovel,
sir Cloudesley, lost on the rocks of Scilly, 124
Sidney,
Henry, joins the prince of Orange, 32
Silesia,
taken by the king of Prussia, 295
Somerset,
duke of, dismissed from his employments, 20
South-sea
scheme, account of, 237
Stadtholder,
chosen by the Dutch, 327
Stair,
earl of, commands the English forces, 298—defeats the French at Dettingen, 299—sollicits leave to resign, 300
Stanislaus,
titulary king of Poland, some account of, 293
Steele,
sir Richard, expelled the house of commons, 185
Suicide,
a dreadful instance of, 264
T
TALLARD,
marshal, some account of, 105—taken prisoner, 109 — his compliment to Marlborough, 110
Tinian,
island of, 280
Torbay,
the prince of Orange lands in, 38
Tournay,
famous siege of, 150—taken by the allies, 151
Townly,
col. commands the Manchester regiment, 314
Trelawney,
bishop of Bristol, remonstrates against reading the king's declaration, 23—summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib.—tried and acquitted, 26
Trentham,
lord, account of his contested election, 336
Triennial
bill passed, 78
Turner,
bishop of Ely, remonstrates against reading the king's declaration, 23—summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib.—tried and acquitted, 26
Tyrconnel,
made lord lieutenant of Ireland, 15
V
VANDEPUT,
sir George, account of his being a candidate for Westminster, 336
Vernon,
admiral, sent to the West-Indies, 276—takes Porto Belo, 277—demolishes the fortifications of Carthagena harbour, 283
Vigo,
taken by the English, 99
Villeroy,
marshal, commands the French army, 103— some account of, ib. — deceived by Marlborough, 104
Union
between England and Scotland, 125—substance of that treaty, 128
Utretcht,
peace of, 181—substance of that treaty, 182
W
WADE,
captain, deserts admiral Benbow, 100— shot at Plymouth, 101
Walker,
a dissenting minister, his brave defence of Londonderry, 56
Walpole,
sir Robert, made secretary at war, 141—acts against Sacheverel in the house of commons, 145—is obliged to resign, 160—acts as chairman of the committee appointed to inspect papers relative to the peace, 203—moves that Mr. Prior and Mr. Harley might be apprehended, 204—reads the report of the committee, ib. — pronounces lord Oxford guilty of treason, 205 — his declaration concerning lord Oxford's answer to his articles of impeachment, 209— forms a scheme for lessening the national debt, 238— some account of him, 254—is leader of the court party, 256—endeavours to introduce a general excise, 265—is burnt in effigy, 266—brings in a bill to limit the number of play-houses, &c. 270—brands the opposite party with the appellation of traitors, 271— alters his conduct, ib.—his assurance to the house of commons, 275—is earnest in a preparation for war, 276—receives considerable supplies, 277—endeavours to gain the prince of Wales over to his party, 286— finds his power at an end, 287—fears for his person, ib.—labours to over rule a petition presented by the electors of Westminster, 228 — finds the majority against him considerably augmented, ib.—declares he will no longer sit in that house, ib.—created earl of Orford, and resigns all his employments, ib.—his measures adopted by his opposers, 289—applies to the discontented Whigs, ib.
Warren,
admiral, retrieves the honour of the British flag, 307
Watson,
admiral, takes Geriah, 378
Wentworth,
general, commands the troops in the West-Indies, 282—miscarries at Carthagena, 284
White,
bishop of Chichester, remonstrates against the king's declaration, 23—summoned before the council, 25—sent to the Tower, ib.—tried and acquitted, 26
William
III. his character, 30—gives instructions to his envoy at the court of England, 32—receives invitations from several of the nobility, ib —determines to accept them, 33—augments his fleet, ib.—raises troops and money, 24—possesses the entire confidence of the Dutch, ib.—his declaration circulated throughout the kingdom, 36—prepares for a vigorous invasion, 37—meets with a dreadful storm, ib.—refits his fleet, and sails again for England, ib.—lands at Broxholme, 38—joined by few of the English, ib.— marches to Exeter, ib.—thinks of re-imbarking his forces, ib.—is joined by several persons of consequence, ib.—is desirous that James should fly to France, 42—declines a personal conference with the king's commissioners, 43—proceeds on his march towards London, ib.—is disconcerted by the unexpected return of the king, 44— puts lord Feversham under arrest, 45—orders the king to retire to Ham, ib — is advised to summon a parliament, 46—convenes those members who had sat in the time of Charles II. ib.—writes circular letters for the choosing a new parliament, 47—possesses full authority, ib.—receives the thanks of parliament, ib.—his prudent conduct, 48—assembles some of the lords, ib.—his speech, ib. — receives a solemn tender of the crown, 49—is proclaimed king of England, ib.—his limited power, 50—confirms the bill of rights, 51—disappointed in his expectations of the English, 52—attempts to repeal some laws, ib.—grants a toleration to dissenters, ib.—his lenity towards the papists, ib.—his authority acknowledged in Scotland, 53—declares war against France, 54—raises twenty-three new regiments, 60— appoints Schomberg next in command to himself, ib. —resolves to attempt the relief of the Irish protestants in person, 61—lands at Carrickfergus, ib.—receives advice that the French fleet was sailed for England, 62—hastens to attack James, ib.—arrives on the banks of the Boyne, ib.—is wounded in reconnoitring the situation of the enemy, 63—summons a council of war, ib.—orders a pass to be forced over the river, 64—leads his cavalry to the attack, ib.— contributes by his great courage to secure the victory, ib.—his title to the crown secured by the defeat of the enemy at La Hogue, 75—is opposed by his parliament, 76—his chief motive for accepting the crown, ib.—disgusts his subjects, ib.—his indifference, ib.—resolves to maintain his prerogative, 77— opposes the triennial bill, ib.—is obliged to sign it, 78—is in danger of being assassinated, 79—orders sir John Fenwick to be brought to his trial, 81—compounds with his parliament, 83—receives immense sums of money for carrying on the war, 84—his title acknowledged by France, ib.—endeavours to strengthen his authority at home, 85—disappointed in his hopes of keeping a standing army, ib.—is enraged against the commons, ib.—passes the bill for reducing his forces, ib.—his conduct with respect to parties, 86—is desirous of a second war with France, ib.— his negociation with the prince of Hesse, and other foreign powers, 87—his endeavours to repair his constitution, ib.—dislocates his collar bone by a fall from his horse, ib.—is seized with a fever, 88—confers with the earl of Albemarle, ib.—his death and character, ib.
William,
duke of Cumberland, is appointed commander of the forces in the Netherlands, 304—is defeated at Fontenoy, 305—arrives in England, 312—obliges the garrison of Carlisle to surrender, 316—heads the troops at Edinburgh, 317—advances to Aberdeen, ib.—is joined by several of the Scotch nobility, ib.—pursues the rebels, ib —advances to the river Spey, 318—attacks and defeats the enemy at Culloden, ib.—commands the Hanoverians, 368—is driven beyond the Weser, ib.
Wolfe,
general, ordered to undertake the siege of Quebec, 395—some account of him, 397—his humanity in carrying on the war, ib.—part of his letter to the ministry, 398—lands below the town, 399—receives a shot in the wrist, ib.—is wounded in the breast, 400 —his death, ib.
Wyndham,
sir William, his remarkable speech against the septennial bill, 266
Y
YORK,
duke os. See
James
II.
FINIS.