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 con⯑tract the ſphere of the underſtanding; and un⯑til people are in ſome meaſure diſengaged from its prejudices, it is impoſſible to lay a juſt [2] claim to extenſive views, or conſiſtency of de⯑ſign. The intellects of this prince were natu⯑rally weak; and the education he had received rendered them ſtill more feeble. He there⯑fore conceived the impracticable project of reigning in the arbitrary manner of his prede⯑ceſſor, and of changing the eſtabliſhed reli⯑gion of his country, at a time when his perſon was hated, and the eſtabliſhed religion paſſion⯑ately loved. The people, though they de⯑ſpiſed the adminiſtration of his predeceſſor, yet loved the king. They were willing to bear with the faults of one, whoſe whole be⯑haviour 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 dig⯑nity; 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 [3] 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. Sed⯑ley, 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 profeſ⯑ſions, Mrs. Sedley was diſcarded, and he re⯑ſigned 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 ambaſ⯑ſador 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 con⯑feſſor?"’ ‘"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 parlia⯑ment, which was moſtly compoſed of zea⯑lous 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 [4] 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 conver⯑ſion of the kingdom, it was neceſſary to unde⯑ceive 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 begin⯑ning of September of the ſame year. He was convicted on the evidence of above two and twenty perſons on the firſt, and of twenty-ſe⯑ven on the latter indictment. His ſentence was to pay a fine of a thouſand marks on each in⯑dictment, 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 ſtrug⯑gle, ſupported himſelf under every puniſhment [5] that juſtice could inflict. He avowed his in⯑nocence, called heaven to witneſs to his vera⯑city; 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 Wil⯑liam'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 after⯑wards rewarded.

Monmouth, who had been, ſince his laſt conſpiracy, pardoned, but ordered to depart the kingdom, had retired to Holland. Be⯑ing 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 mo⯑ther, and owned Monmouth's legitimacy at his death. The duke of Argyle ſeconded his views in [6] 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 him⯑ſelf 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 at⯑tempting 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 encou⯑ragement 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 [7] 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 Lon⯑don, 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 loyal⯑ty, zeal, and aſſiſtance. The duke of Albemarle, raiſing a body of four thouſand militia, advan⯑ced, 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 conſi⯑derable 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 ſolemni⯑ty. 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 Bridge⯑water, Wells, and Frome, and was proclaimed in all thoſe places; but he loſt the hour of action, in receiving and claiming theſe empty honours.

[8]The king was not a little alarmed at his in⯑vaſion; but ſtill more at the ſucceſs of an un⯑dertaking, 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 Fever⯑ſham 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 coun⯑try in conſiderable numbers. It was there that Monmouth reſolved, by a deſperate effort, to loſe his life or gain the kingdom. The negli⯑gent diſpoſition made by Feverſham invited him to the attack; and his faithful followers ſhew⯑ed 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.

[9]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 illegitima⯑cy; 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, [10] and retired with an air of diſdain. He was followed to the ſcaffold, with great compaſſion from the populace. He warned the execu⯑tioner 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 puniſh⯑ment, the man was ſeized with an univerſal tre⯑pidation; 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 Mon⯑mouth, 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 expia⯑tion 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 [11] executions, when the biſhop of Bath and Wells warned him that theſe unhappy men were now by law entitled to trial, and that their execu⯑tion would be deemed a real murther. Nine⯑teen were put to death in the ſame manner at Bridgewater, by colonel Kirke, a man of a ſavage and bloody diſpoſition. This vile fel⯑low, practiſed in the arts of ſlaughter at Tan⯑gier, where he ſerved in garriſon, took a plea⯑ſure in committing inſtances of wanton barba⯑rity. 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 rava⯑ged 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 notori⯑ous for cruelty, and may be the tale of malig⯑nity.

But the military ſeverities of the comman⯑ders were ſtill inferior to the legal ſlaughters, [12] 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 priſo⯑ners, that if they would ſave him the trouble of trying them they might expect ſome fa⯑vour, 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 deſtruc⯑tion. 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 harbour⯑ing 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 pro⯑tection, and the jury ſeemed inclined to com⯑paſſion: 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 a⯑gainſt the priſoner.

But the fate of Mrs. Gaunt was ſtill more [13] 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 con⯑cealed 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 in⯑conteſtible; 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 obnoxi⯑ous 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 wit⯑neſſes 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.

[14]It was not to be ſuppoſed that theſe ſlaugh⯑ters 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 de⯑ſigns 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 expe⯑rience 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 diſ⯑penſe 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 natural⯑ly [15] led the lords and commons into ſome de⯑gree of oppoſition; but they ſoon acquieſced in the king's meaſures, and then the parlia⯑ment 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 ac⯑quieſce 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 de⯑ſires 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, be⯑cauſe he refuſed to conform. In theſe ſchemes, James was entirely governed by the counſels of the queen and of his confeſſor, father Pe⯑ters, 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 [16] 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 fa⯑vour ſhewn by James to the catholics, would be tamely borne by the members of the Engliſh church. They had hitherto, indeed, ſupport⯑ed the king againſt his republican enemies, and to their aſſiſtance he chiefly owed his crown. But finding his partiality to the ca⯑tholics, 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 contro⯑verſy, 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 [17] miſſionaries were able to produce. This be⯑ing 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 far⯑ther 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 com⯑miſſioners were inveſted with a full and unli⯑mited 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 con⯑ſcience 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. [18] 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 declara⯑tion of general indulgence, and aſſerted that non⯑conformity to the eſtabliſhed religion was no longer penal. In order to procure a favourable re⯑ception to this edict, he began by paying court to the diſſenters, as if it had been principally in⯑tended for their benefit. But that ſect was too cunning and ſuſpicious to be ſo deceived. They knew that the king only meant to eſta⯑bliſh 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, how⯑ever, their diſtruſt for a while; and the king went on ſilently applauding himſelf on the ſuc⯑ceſs of his ſchemes.

But his meaſures were caution itſelf in Eng⯑land, 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 [19] 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 pro⯑teſtants were rogues; and that there was not one among forty thouſand, that was not a trai⯑tor, a rebel, and a villain.

Theſe meaſures had ſufficiently diſguſted every part of the Britiſh empire; but to com⯑plete his work, for James did nothing by halves, he publicly ſent the earl of Caſtle⯑maine, 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 con⯑tempt thrown upon an embaſſy that was ſo boldly undertaken. The court of Rome ex⯑pected but little ſucceſs from meaſures ſo blind⯑ly conducted. They were ſenſible that the king was openly ſtriking at thoſe laws and opinions, which it was his buſineſs to under⯑mine in ſilence and ſecurity. The cardinals were even heard facetiouſly to declare, that the king ſhould be excommunicated, for thus en⯑deavouring to overturn the ſmall remains of popery that yet ſubſiſted in England. The [20] only proof of complaiſance which the king received from his holineſs, was his ſending a nuncio into England, in return for the em⯑baſſy that was ſent to him.

This failed not to add to the general diſ⯑content; 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 ſo⯑lemn entry into Windſor; and becauſe the duke of Somerſet refuſed to attend the cere⯑mony, he was diſmiſſed from his employment, of one of the lords of the bed-chamber.

But this was but the beginning of his at⯑tempts. The Jeſuits ſoon after were permit⯑ed 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 apoſto⯑lic vicars. Their paſtoral letters were printed by the king's printer, and diſtributed through all parts of the kingdom. The monks ap⯑peared at court in the habits of their orders, and a great number of prieſts and friars ar⯑rived in England. Every great office the [21] crown had to beſtow, was gradually tranſ⯑ferred 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 diſre⯑garded, their deputies denied an hearing: the vice-chancellor himſelf was ſummoned to ap⯑pear before the high-commiſſion court, and deprived of his office; yet the univerſity per⯑ſiſted, 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 [22] one Farmer, a new convert, and a man of a bad character in other reſpects. The fellows of the college, made very ſubmiſſive appli⯑cations 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 learn⯑ing, 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 cha⯑racter; but who atoned for all his vices, by his willingneſs to embrace the catholic religion. The fellows refuſed to comply with this in⯑junction, which ſo incenſed the king, that he repaired in perſon to Oxford, and ordered the fellows to be brought before him. He re⯑proached them with their inſolence and diſ⯑obedience in the moſt imperious terms; and commanded them to chuſe Parker without de⯑lay. Another refuſal on their ſide ſerved ſtill more to exaſperate him; and finding them re⯑ſolute in the defence of their privileges, he [23] them all, except two, from their benefices, and Parker was put in poſſeſſion of the place. Up⯑on 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 decla⯑ration for liberty of conſcience was publiſhed,A.D. 1688 almoſt in the ſame terms with the former; but with this peculiar injunction, that all di⯑vines 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 ſuſpend⯑ing 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 cham⯑pions 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, con⯑certed an addreſs, in the form of a petition, [24] to the king, which, with the warmeſt expreſ⯑ſions 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 re⯑ſentment. 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 un⯑der ſome apprehenſions from his fury; but ſecure in the favour of the people, and the rec⯑titude 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 decla⯑ration to be read in the churches of their re⯑ſpective 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 [25] to hear it, and therefore they might leave the church; an hint which the congregation quick⯑ly obeyed. It may eaſily, therefore, be ſup⯑poſed that the petitioning biſhops had little to dread from the utmoſt efforts of royal reſent⯑ment.

As the petition was delivered in private, the king ſummoned the biſhops before the coun⯑cil, 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 peti⯑tion. 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. [26] The biſhops were not wanting, by their ſub⯑miſſive and humble behaviour, to raiſe the pity of the ſpectators; and they ſtill exhorted them to fear God, honour the king, and main⯑tain 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 gentle⯑men, 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 learn⯑edly managed by the lawyers on both ſides. Holloway and Powel, two of the judges, de⯑clared themſelves in favour of the biſhops. The jury withdrew into a chamber, where they paſſed the whole night; but next morn⯑ing 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 [27] 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 inform⯑ed that it was nothing but the ſoldiers ſhout⯑ing 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 mar⯑tyrs in ſupport of their religion, James ſhewed no leſs ardour in his attempts toward the eſta⯑bliſhment 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 pro⯑ſecute 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 Ma⯑dura.

As he found the clergy every where averſe to the harſhneſs of his proceedings, he was [28] 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 continu⯑ally ſtimulated by the queen, and the prieſts about him, to go forward without receding. A fortunate circumſtance happened in his fa⯑mily. 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 warm⯑ing-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, [29] bigotry, and weakneſs. In theſe he was chief⯑ly 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 over⯑throw.

CHAP. XXXVIII. JAMES II. (Continued.)

WILLIAM, prince of Orange, had married Mary, the eldeſt daughter of king James. This princeſs had been bred a pro⯑teſtant; 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 emer⯑gencies, 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 be⯑fore 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 am⯑bition [31] of France, and the jealouſies of Hol⯑land, 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 level⯑led at power, while his diſcourſe never betray⯑ed the wiſhes of his heart. His temper was cold and ſevere; his genius active and pier⯑cing; he was valiant, without oſtentation, and politic without addreſs. Diſdaining the elegance and pleaſures of life, yet eager after the phan⯑tom of pre-eminence; through his whole life he was indefatigable; and though an un⯑ſucceſsful 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 con⯑tributed 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 diſcou⯑rage, [32] ſtill farther encreaſed them. He there⯑fore 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 ex⯑hortations not to be deceived by the inſidious ca⯑reſſes 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 admi⯑ral 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 no⯑bility [33] tenders of duty and even conſiderable ſums of money to the prince of Orange. Soon after the biſhop of London, the earls of Dan⯑by, 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 di⯑vided between Whig and Tory, were unani⯑mous 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 gene⯑ral one of driving the tyrant from a throne, which, upon every account, he was ſo ill qua⯑lified 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 conſider⯑able [34] 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 expedi⯑tion. The Dutch had always repoſed an en⯑tire confidence him; and many of the neigh⯑bouring princes regarded him as their guar⯑dian and protector. He was ſure of their pro⯑tection 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 ap⯑priſed 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 ſa⯑tisfied himſelf of the ſacredneſs of his autho⯑rity, [35] 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 de⯑fend 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 miniſ⯑ter 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 va⯑rious precipitate meaſures into which he had [36] 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 perſe⯑cuted 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. In⯑deed he ſoon ſhewed the people the inſincerity of his reformation; for hearing that the Dutch fleet was diſperſed, he recalled thoſe conceſ⯑ſions which he had made in favour of Magda⯑len 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 [37] the grievances of which the nation complain⯑ed; 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 par⯑liament.

This declaration he quickly followed by pre⯑parations 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 Ni⯑meguen, 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 encounter⯑ed a dreadful ſtorm, which put him back; but he ſoon refitted his fleet, and once more ven⯑tured 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 de⯑ſtined port detained the Engliſh fleet in the [38] 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 an⯑niverſary 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 Mon⯑mouth's rebellion, that they continued to ob⯑ſerve a ſtrict neutrality. But ſlight repulſes were not able to intimidate a general, who had from his early youth been taught to encounter adver⯑ſity. 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 per⯑ſon who joined the prince was major Burring⯑ton, and he was quickly followed by the gen⯑try of the counties of Devon and Somerſet. Sir Edward Seymour made propoſals for an aſſociation, which every one ſigned. By de⯑grees [39] the earl of Abington, Mr. Ruſſel, ſon to the earl of Bedford, Mr. Wharton, God⯑frey, 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, de⯑clared for the prince; the earl of Devonſhire made a like declaration in Derby; the nobi⯑lity 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 mea⯑ſures of the king.

But the moſt dangerous ſymptom was the diſaffection of the army, which ſeemed uni⯑verſally 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 regi⯑ments of cavalry to the prince. Several of⯑ficers 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 crea⯑tures. [40] 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 Ger⯑many, but in vain. That monarch only return⯑ed 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 ſuſpi⯑cions; the defection of thoſe he moſt confided [41] in took away his confidence in all, and de⯑prived 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 deſpera⯑tion 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, in⯑vaded by one ſon-in-law, abandoned by an⯑other, deſpiſed by his ſubjects, and hated by thoſe that had ſuffered beneath his cruelty, he aſ⯑ſembled the few noblemen that ſtill adhered to his intereſts. There in his forlorn council he demanded the advice of thoſe he moſt con⯑fided in. Addreſſing himſelf to the earl of Bedford, father to lord Ruſſel, who had been executed in the former reign by the in⯑trigues of James, ‘"My lord, ſaid the king, [42] 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 beha⯑viour 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 at⯑tached to the prince, contributed to encreaſe his apprehenſions. They reminded him of the fate of his father, and aggravated the tur⯑bulence 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 ſen⯑ſible that they would be made the firſt ſacri⯑fice 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 [43] moſt zealous counſellors could be. He was determined to uſe every expedient to intimi⯑date the king, and drive him out of the king⯑dom. 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 know⯑ing the perſon of the king, robbed, inſulted, and abuſed him. He was now, therefore, perſuaded by the earl of Winchelſea to return [44] to London, where again the populace, moved by his diſtreſſes, and guided by their natural levity, received him, contrary to his expecta⯑tions, 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, trium⯑phantly, 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 direc⯑tions, 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 ap⯑plications to the prince, whoſe enterprize they highly applauded, and whoſe ſucceſs they joy⯑fully 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 be⯑ginning was to puſh him by threats and ſeve⯑rities to relinquiſh the throne; and his pro⯑ceedings argued the refined politician. The [45] 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 com⯑manded by a meſſage, which he received in bed at midnight, to leave his palace next morn⯑ing, 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 rea⯑dily 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 ſub⯑jects, and oppreſſed by his ſon-in-law, reſolv⯑ed to ſeek ſafety from the king of France, the only friend he had ſtill remaining. He ac⯑cordingly fled to the ſea-ſide, attended by his [46] natural ſon the duke of Berwick, where he em⯑barked for the continent. He arrived in ſafety at Ambleteuſe in Picardy, from whence he haſt⯑ened to the court of France, where he ſtill enjoyed the empty title of a king, and the ap⯑pellation of a ſaint, which flattered him more.

After this manner, the courage and abilities of the prince of Orange, ſeconded by ſurpriſ⯑ing fortune, effected the delivery of the king⯑dom. 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 ma⯑nagement of all public affairs. By the advice of the houſe of lords, the only member of the legiſlature remaining, he was deſired to ſum⯑mon 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 com⯑mon-council. This was the moſt proper re⯑preſentative of the people that could be ſum⯑moned, during the preſent emergence. They unaminouſly voted the ſame addreſs with the lords; and the prince being thus ſupported [47] by legal authority, wrote circular letters to the counties and corporations of England, to chuſe a new parliament. His orders were uni⯑verſally 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 king⯑dom. 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 car⯑ried by a majority of two voices only.

[48]The king being thus depoſed, the next con⯑ſideration was the appointing a ſucceſſor. Some declared for a regent; others, that the princeſs of Orange ſhould be inveſted with regal pow⯑er, and the young prince conſidered as ſuppo⯑ſititious. The debates ran high. A confer⯑ence was demanded between the lords and commons, while the prince with his uſual pru⯑dence, 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 incum⯑bent on him to inform them that he would never accept of that office, the execution of which he knew would be attended with inſu⯑perable difficulties; that he would not ac⯑cept of the crown under the princeſs his wife, though he was convinced of her merits, that therefore if either of theſe ſchemes were adopted, [49] he could give them no aſſiſtance in the ſettle⯑ment of the nation; but would return home to his own country, ſatisfied with his aims to ſe⯑cure 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 adminiſtra⯑tion 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 com⯑mons 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.

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 [51] which his new ſubjects entertained of foreign⯑ers, ſtill farther obſtructed the exerciſe of his authority. The power of the crown was ac⯑knowledged 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 exer⯑ciſed 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 free⯑dom 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 par⯑liaments ſhould be frequently aſſembled. Such was the bill of rights, calculated to ſecure the [52] 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 tract⯑able diſpoſition of his own countrymen, he ex⯑pected a ſimilar diſpoſition among the Engliſh; he hoped to find them ready and willing to ſe⯑cond 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, ſimi⯑lar 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 conſequent⯑ly 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 [53] 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 re⯑ligious 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.A.D. 1689 They therefore quickly recognized the authority of William, and took that opportunity to aboliſh epiſco⯑pacy, 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 va⯑riance with William, and took every opportu⯑tunity [54] to form confederacies againſt him, and to obſtruct his government. On the preſent occaſion, being either touched with compaſ⯑ſion at the ſufferings of James, or willing to weaken a rival kingdom, by promoting its in⯑ternal diſſenſions, he granted the depoſed mo⯑narch a fleet and ſome troops, to aſſert his pre⯑tenſions in Ireland, the only part of his do⯑minions that had not openly declared againſt him.

On the other hand, William was not back⯑ward 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 un⯑happy monarch embarked at Breſt, and on the twenty-ſecond arrived at Kinſale▪ and ſoon after made his public entry into Dublin, amidſt [55] the acclamations of the inhabitants. He found the appearances of things in that country equal to his moſt ſanguine expectations. Tyrcon⯑nel, the lord lieutenant, was devoted to his in⯑tereſts; his old army was ſteady, and a new one raiſed, amounting together to near forty-thouſand men. The proteſtants over the great⯑eſt 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 indig⯑nities. 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 ene⯑mies. 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 nu⯑merous 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 London⯑derry, [56] 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 offi⯑cers 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 gover⯑nor 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, hav⯑ing 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 them⯑ſelves at the head of theſe reſolute men; and thus abandoned to their fate, they prepared for a vigorous reſiſtance. The batteries of the be⯑ſiegers ſoon began to play upon the town with great fury; and ſeveral attacks were made, but always repulſed with reſolution. All the ſuc⯑ceſs [57] that valour could promiſe, was on their ſide; but they, after ſome time, found them⯑ſelves 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 be⯑gan to be reduced to the greateſt extremities for want of proviſion. They had even the mortification to ſee ſome ſhips, which had ar⯑rived with ſupplies from England, prevented from ſailing up the river by the batteries of the enemy, and a boom by which they had block⯑ed 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 provi⯑ſion; and ſupported life, by eating horſes, dogs, and all kinds of vermin, while even this loath⯑ſome food began to fail them. They had ſtill farther the miſery of ſeeing above four thou⯑ſand 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 pro⯑viſion. [58] 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, receiv⯑ing intelligence that the garriſon, ſunk with fatigues and famine, had ſent propoſals of ca⯑pitulation, 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 victual⯑lers 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 [59] army of James was ſo diſpirited by the ſucceſs of this enterprize, that they abandoned the ſiege in the night; and retired with precipita⯑tion, after having loſt above nine thouſand men before the place. Kirke no ſooner took poſ⯑ſeſſion of the town▪ than Walker was prevailed on to embark for England, with an addreſs of thanks to king William, for the ſeaſonable re⯑lief they had received.

The Inniſkilliners were no leſs remarkable than the former for the valour and perſeve⯑rance with which they eſpouſed the inte⯑reſts 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 par⯑liament, 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 at⯑tainted. 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 [60] impoſed, by his own authority, a tax of twenty thouſand pounds a month on perſonal proper⯑ty, 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 in⯑ſtitution 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 re⯑quired 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 pur⯑poſe. 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 [61] now paſt a life of eighty years almoſt continu⯑ally in the field. The method of carrying on the war in Ireland, however, was a mode of operation with which he was entirely unac⯑quainted. 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 Ire⯑land, at length induced king William to at⯑tempt 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 [62] effective men, which was more than a match for the forces of James, although they amount⯑ed to above ten thouſand more.

A.D. 1690 William having received news that the French fleet was ſailed for the coaſt of Eng⯑land, reſolved, by meaſures of ſpeed and vi⯑gour, to prevent the impreſſion which that cir⯑cumſtance 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 pur⯑ſued by his opponents ſeemed dictated by ob⯑ſtinacy 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 ar⯑mies 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 [63] 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 private⯑ly 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 undeceiv⯑ed 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 ſum⯑moned a council of war, in which without aſking advice, he declared his reſolution to force a paſſage over the river the next morn⯑ing. The duke of Schomberg attempted at firſt to expoſtulate with him upon the danger of the undertaking; but finding his maſter in⯑flexible, he retired to his tent with a diſcon⯑tented [64] 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 cannonad⯑ing, the battle began with unuſual vigour. The Iriſh troops, though reckoned the beſt in Europe abroad, have always fought indifferent⯑ly 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 repulſ⯑ing thoſe of the enemy, ‘"O ſpare my Eng⯑liſh 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 Schom⯑berg, who was ſhot as he was croſſing the wa⯑ter, [65] ſeemed to outweigh the whole loſs ſuſtained by the enemy. This old ſoldier of fortune had fought under almoſt every power in Eu⯑rope. His ſkill in war was unparelleled, and his fidelity equal to his courage. The number of battles in which he had been perſonally en⯑gaged, 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 ene⯑my, 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 de⯑fend 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 ma⯑giſtrates to obtain the beſt terms they could from the victor, and then ſet out for Water⯑ford, where he embarked for France, in a veſ⯑ſel fitted for his reception. Had he poſſeſſed either conduct or courage, he might ſtill have [66] 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 re⯑ſolved to await the enemy. James, however, who would not defend the country himſelf, determined that none but ſuch as were agree⯑able 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 com⯑mand the Engliſh army in the abſence of Wil⯑liam, who was gone over to England, advanced [67] with his forces to meet the enemy towards the Shannon, in order to paſs that broad and dan⯑gerous 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 deſpe⯑rate attempt was performed with great reſolu⯑tion; 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 pro⯑portion 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 de⯑termined to await the Engliſh army, and de⯑cide the fate of Ireland at one blow.

Ginckle, having put Athlone in a poſture of defence, paſſed the Shannon, and marched up [68] to the enemy, determined to give them bat⯑tle, 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 en⯑trenchments, and their left ſecured by the caſ⯑tle 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 com⯑bat with great fury. At length St. Ruth being [69] killed by a cannon-ball, his fate ſo diſpirited his troops, that they gave way on all ſides, and retreated to Limerick, where they re⯑ſolved 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 be⯑gun, and hoſtilities ceaſed on both ſides. The Roman catholics by this capitulation were re⯑ſtored to the enjoyment of thoſe liberties in the exerciſe of their religion, which they had poſſeſſed in the reign of king Charles the ſe⯑cond. 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 four⯑teen thouſand of thoſe who had fought for king James went over into France, having tranſports provided by government for con⯑veying 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 [70] 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 ſub⯑mitted 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 con⯑ſpiracy was the firſt to diſappoint his expecta⯑tions. This was originally hatched in Scot⯑land by Sir James Montgomery, a perſon who, from being an adherent to William, now turn⯑ed againſt him; but as the project was ill con⯑ceived, 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 [71] by five thouſand Swedes, who, becauſe they were of the proteſtant religion, it was thought would remove a part of the odium which at⯑tended an invaſion by foreigners; that aſſiſt⯑ance ſhould at the ſame time be ſent from France, and that full liberty of conſcience ſhould be proclaimed throughout the king⯑dom. 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 ap⯑pointed for this dangerous embaſſy. Accord⯑ingly Aſhton hired a ſmall veſſel for this pur⯑poſe; 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 ex⯑ecuted, 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 [72] of Ormond, lord Dartmouth, and lord Cla⯑rendon 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 re⯑giments, 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 ba⯑niſhed king a change of fortune.

[73]Theſe preparations on the ſide of France were ſoon known at the Engliſh court, and every precaution taken for a vigorous oppo⯑ſition.A.D. 1692 All the ſecret machinations of the ba⯑niſhed king's adherents were diſcovered to the Engliſh miniſtry by ſpies; and by theſe they found, with ſome mortification, that the To⯑ries 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 vio⯑lently ſuſpected of diſaffection; the fleet, the army, and the church, were ſeen miſtak⯑ing 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 fri⯑gates 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 [74] the fleet on each ſide ſoon followed the exam⯑ple. 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 man⯑ner all the preparations on the ſide of France were fruſtrated; and ſo deciſive was the blow, that from that time France ſeemed to relin⯑quiſh 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 en⯑tirely 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 un⯑dertakers. From that time till he died, which was about ſeven years, he continued to reſide at St. Germains, a penſioner on the bounties of [75] 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 te⯑dious ſickneſs, and many miracles, as the peo⯑ple thought, were wrought at his tomb. In⯑deed the latter part of his life, was calculated to inſpire the ſuperſtitious with reverence for his piety. He ſubjected himſelf to acts of un⯑common penance and mortification. He fre⯑quently viſited the poor monks of La Trappe, who were edified by his humble and pious de⯑portment. His pride and arbitrary temper, ſeemed to have vaniſhed with his greatneſs; he became affable, kind, and eaſy, to all his de⯑pendents; and in his laſt illneſs, conjured his ſon to prefer religion to every wordly advan⯑tage, a counſel which that prince ſtrictly obey⯑ed. 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 par⯑ties aroſe among thoſe who had been friends to the revolution, and the want of a common [76] enemy, produced diſſenſions among themſelves. William now began to find as much oppoſi⯑tion 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 form⯑ing alliances againſt them. Many of the Eng⯑liſh, on the other hand, had neither the ſame animoſity againſt the French, nor the ſame terrors of their encreaſing power. Theſe, there⯑fore, conſidered the intereſt of the nation as ſacrificed to foreign connections; and com⯑plained 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 Eng⯑liſh 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; accuſ⯑tomed to oppoſition, he heard their complaints [77] 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 un⯑mindful of the cultivation of internal poli⯑ty; and as he formed alliances abroad, en⯑creaſed the influence of party at home. Pa⯑triotiſm began to be ridiculed as an ideal vir⯑tue, the practice of bribing a majority in par⯑liament became univerſal. The example of the great was caught up by the vulgar; prin⯑ciple, and even decency, was gradually baniſh⯑ed; talents lay uncultivated, and the igno⯑rant 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 di⯑rected 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 [78] 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 occa⯑ſion, 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, at⯑tended 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 in⯑dicted but upon the oaths of two faithful wit⯑neſſes; 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 [79] 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, under⯑took the bold taſk of ſeizing or aſſaſſinating the king. This deſign he imparted to Harri⯑ſon, Charnock, Porter, and Sir William Per⯑kins, 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 be⯑tween 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 per⯑ſons to aſſiſt in this dangerous enterprize. When their number was complete, they wait⯑ed 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 [80] Iriſh officer, gave information of the plot, but refuſed to mention the perſons who were con⯑cerned 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 Bar⯑clay, who began to perceive that the whole was diſcovered. The night, ſubſequent to the in⯑tended day of aſſaſſination, a large number of the conſpirators were apprehended, and the whole diſcovery was communicated to the pri⯑vy-council. Pendergaſt became an evidence for the crown, and the conſpirators were brought to their trial. The firſt who ſuffer⯑ed, 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 ſuffer⯑ed at Tyburn. Sir John Freind, and Sir Wil⯑liam 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 ra⯑ther as counſel againſt the priſoner, than as a ſollicitor in their favour, influenced the jury to find them guilty. They both ſuffered at Ty⯑burn with great conſtancy, denying the charge, [81] and teſtifying their abhorrence of the aſſaſſi⯑nation. In the courſe of the month, Rook⯑wood, Cranbourne, and Lowick, were tried by a ſpecial commiſſion as conſpirators, and, being found guilty, ſhared the fate of the for⯑mer. But the caſe of Sir John Fenwick was conſidered as one of the greateſt ſtretches of power exhibited during this reign. This gen⯑tleman, whoſe name had been mentioned a⯑mong the reſt of the conſpirators, was appre⯑hended 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 con⯑ſpiracy againſt the king; but when he came to enter into the detail, he ſo managed his in⯑formation, 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 pri⯑ſoner. However, the houſe of commons were [82] 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, ad⯑miral Ruſſel inſiſted that he might have an op⯑portunity 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 ma⯑jority. 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 diſ⯑putation, where paſſion and revenge, was ra⯑ther attended to than reaſon, the bill was com⯑mitted, and ſent up to the houſe lords, where Sir John Fenwick was found guilty, by a ma⯑jority only of ſeven voices. The priſoner ſol⯑licited the mediation of the lords in his be⯑half, while his friends implored the royal mercy. The lords gave him to underſtand, that the ſucceſs of his ſuit would depend on the full⯑neſs of his diſcoveries. He would have pre⯑viouſly ſtipulated for pardon, and they inſiſted on his truſting to their favour. He heſita⯑ted ſome time, between the fears of infamy [83] 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 dili⯑gence 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 parlia⯑ment every day were laying round his authority, and gave up the conteſt. He admitted every re⯑ſtraint 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 [84] knew, or indeed deſired to underſtand. Pro⯑vided the parliament furniſhed him with ſup⯑plies 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 incredi⯑ble. The nation, not contented with furniſh⯑ing him ſuch ſums of money as they were ca⯑pable of raiſing by the taxes of the year, mort⯑gaged 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, par⯑ticularly 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 con⯑tentions, in which England had engaged with⯑out 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.

[85]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 peo⯑ple 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 mortifica⯑tion to find the commons paſs a vote, that all the forces in Engliſh pay, exceeding ſeven thouſand men, ſhould be forthwith diſ⯑banded, and that thoſe retained ſhould be na⯑tural-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 con⯑ceived a deſign of abandoning the government. His miniſters, however, diverted him from this reſolution, and perſuaded him to conſent to paſſing the bill.

[86]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 them⯑ſelves, and conſequently bent upon obſtructing all his projects to ſecure the liberties of Eu⯑rope. 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 indiſ⯑criminately, as intereſt, or the immediate exi⯑gence demanded. He was taught to conſider England as a place of labour, anxiety, and al⯑tercation. 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 la⯑boured to undermine the ſchemes and the power of Lewis, his rival in politics and in fame.

However feeble his deſire of other amuſe⯑ments 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 carry⯑ing on a new war, and for enliſting his Engliſh [87] 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, concert⯑ing with his allies operations for a new cam⯑paign. 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 in⯑veſt 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 con⯑ſtitution; and it was by this time almoſt ex⯑hauſted, 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 col⯑lar bone was fractured. His attendants con⯑veyed [88] 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 frac⯑ture 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 terminat⯑ed in a fever and diarrhaea, which ſoon be⯑came 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 re⯑ceived 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 aqui⯑line noſe, ſparkling eyes, a large forehead, and a grave ſolemn aſpect. He left behind him the character of a great politician, though he [89] 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 do⯑minion. 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 mode⯑rate abilities will atchieve the greateſt purpo⯑ſes, if the objects aimed at be purſued with per⯑ſeverance, and planned without unneceſſary or oſtentatious refinement.

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 forgot⯑ten, as we come down are neceſſary to be known. Our own private intereſts being gene⯑rally blended with every event; and the ac⯑counts of public welfare make often a tran⯑ſcript [91] 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 ge⯑neral manners of the times, as the private vir⯑tues of the monarch. Queen Anne, his ſucceſ⯑ſor, with no very ſhining talents, and few ex⯑alted virtues, yet governed with glory, and left her people happy.

Anne, married to prince George of Den⯑mark, 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 daugh⯑ter of chancellor Hyde, afterwards earl of Clarendon. As ſhe had been taught in the preceding part of life to ſuffer many mortifi⯑cations 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 Eng⯑land [92] 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 de⯑clared 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 mi⯑niſter 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 proſe⯑cuting the late king's intentions of going to war with France, was the earl, ſince better known by the title of the duke of Marlbo⯑rough. 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 Wil⯑liam; but had ſtill a ſecret partiality in fa⯑vour [93] of the Tories, from whom he had re⯑ceived his firſt employments. Ever willing to thwart and undermine the meaſures of Wil⯑liam, he became a favourite of Anne for that very reaſon; ſhe loved a man who ſtill pro⯑feſſed 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 mar⯑ried to a lady who was the queen's peculiar confidante, and who governed her in every ac⯑tion of life with unbounded authority. By this canal Marlborough actually directed the queen in all her reſolutions; and while his ri⯑vals ſtrove to advance their reputation in the council, he was more effectually ſecuring it in the cloſet.

It was not, therefore, without private rea⯑ſons that Marlborough inclined for war. It firſt gave him an opportunity of taking a dif⯑ferent 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 gra⯑tify 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 engage⯑ments. [94] He affirmed, that France could ne⯑ver be reduced within due bounds, unleſs England would enter as a principal in the quar⯑rel. His opinion, therefore, preponderated; the queen reſolved to declare war, and com⯑municated her intentions to the houſe of com⯑mons, 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 diſ⯑appointment 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 vi⯑gilance of his late rival had blaſted all his lau⯑rels, 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 forgot⯑ten their uſual decency in the effuſions of their ſatisfaction. The people of Paris openly re⯑joiced at the event; and the whole kingdom teſtified their rapture by every public demon⯑ſtration of joy. But their pleaſure was ſoon to have an end. A much more formidable enemy was now riſing up to oppoſe them; a [95] more refined politician, a more ſkilful general, backed by the confidence of an indulgent miſ⯑treſs, 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 do⯑minions, with deſigning to invade the liberties of Europe, to obſtruct the freedom of naviga⯑tion and commerce; and with having offered an unpardonable inſult to the queen and her throne, by acknowledging the title of the pre⯑tender. 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 de⯑ſtroy 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 ſup⯑preſs 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 [96] affairs of the allies were no way influenced by his threats. Marlborough had his views gra⯑tified, in being appointed general of the Eng⯑liſh forces; and he was ſtill farther flattered by the Dutch, who, though the earl of Ath⯑lone had a right to ſhare the command, ap⯑pointed Marlborough generaliſſimo of the al⯑lied army. And it muſt be confeſſed, that few men ſhone more, either in debate or ac⯑tion, 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 conquer⯑ing 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 addi⯑tions 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 ſi⯑lence, 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 fa⯑mous marſhal Turenne, having been a volun⯑teer in his army. He was at firſt, rather more remarkable for the beauty of his perſon, than [97] 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 great⯑neſs. 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 re⯑markable 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 of⯑ficer of courage and activity. But wherever Marlborough advanced, the French were ob⯑liged [98] to retire before him, leaving all Spa⯑niſh Guelderland at his diſcretion. The duke of Burgundy, finding himſelf obliged to retreat before the allied army, rather than ex⯑poſe himſelf longer to ſuch a mortifying in⯑dignity, returned to Verſailles, leaving Bouf⯑flers to command alone. Boufflers, confound⯑ed at the rapidity of the enemies progreſs, re⯑tired towards Brabant, where Marlborough had no deſign to purſue; contented with end⯑ing 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, natural⯑ly inclined to diſtruſt a foreign commander.

Marlborough, upon his return to London, was received with the moſt flattering teſtimo⯑nies 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 [99] 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 pre⯑vent 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 coun⯑terbalanced by the baſe conduct of ſome officers in the Weſt-Indies. Admiral Ben⯑bow, 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 [100] 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 per⯑ceive 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 cow⯑ardly 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 be⯑ing quite diſabled, was unfit to continue the chace any longer. When one of his lieute⯑nants 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 [101] 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. Con⯑ſtable, 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 imme⯑diate 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 com⯑mons 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 pro⯑tection 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 [102] allies preſſed her to augment her forces. The commons were as ready to grant as ſhe to de⯑mand, and it was reſolved that ten thouſand men more ſhould be added to the army on the con⯑tinent, but upon condition that the Dutch ſhould break off all commerce with France and Spain. The Dutch complied without heſita⯑tion; ſenſible that while England fought their battles, they might a little relax their in⯑duſtry.

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 tri⯑umphs. 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 ge⯑neral Fagel. He next retook Huy, the gar⯑riſon of which, after a vigorous defence, ſur⯑rendered priſoners of war. The ſiege of Lim⯑burg was then undertaken, the place ſurrender⯑ed in two days; and by the conqueſt of this place, the allies ſecured the country of Liege, and the electorate of Cologne from the de⯑ſigns of the enemy. Such was the campaign in the Netherlands, which, in all probability, [103] would have produced events of greater impor⯑tance, had not the duke of Marlborough been reſtrained by the Dutch, who began to be in⯑fluenced 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 pro⯑per 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 aſ⯑ſiſtance 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 enterpriſ⯑ing 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 [104] rival. Marlborough, therefore, who was pe⯑culiarly 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 commence⯑ment of the campaign. The Engliſh general, who was reſolved to ſtrike a vigorous blow for his relief, took with him about thirteen thou⯑ſand Engliſh troops, traverſed extenſive coun⯑tries 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 trium⯑phant army, and laid the dukedom of Bavaria, that had ſided with the enemy, under contri⯑bution. Villeroy, who at firſt attempted to follow his motions, ſeemed all at once to have loſt ſight of his enemy; nor was he appriſ⯑ed of his route, till informed of his ſuc⯑ceſſes. 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 Ba⯑varia's forces, ſo that the French army in that part of the continent amounted to ſixty thou⯑ſand veterans, and commanded by the two beſt reputed generals then in France.

[105]Tallard had eſtabliſhed his reputation by many former victories; he was active and pe⯑netrating, 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 ſhort⯑ſighted 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 coun⯑try 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, un⯑der the conduct of the prince Eugene, whoſe troops were well diſciplined, but ſtill more formi⯑dable 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 [106] 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 Eu⯑gene 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 Ruſ⯑ſians fly before them. The French, as was al⯑ready 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 coun⯑termarchings, 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 ri⯑vulet, the banks of which were ſteep, and the bottom marſhy. It was in this advantageous poſition, that the allied army reſolved to at⯑tack 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 reckon⯑ed the moſt remarkable of this century, it demands a more particular detail than I have alotted to ſuch narrations.

[107]The right wing of the French, which was covered by the Danube, and the village of Blenheim, was commanded by marſhal Tal⯑lard. 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 will⯑ing to await the enemy, rather than offer bat⯑tle. 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 diſpoſi⯑tions being made for the attack, and the or⯑ders 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 conti⯑nued to about half after twelve. Then the troops advanced to the attack; the right un⯑der the direction of prince Eugene, the left headed by Marlborough, and oppoſed to mar⯑ſhal Tallard.

Marlborough, at the head of his Engliſh troops, having paſſed the rivulet, attacked the [108] cavalry of Tallard with great bravery. This general was at that time reviewing the diſpo⯑ſition of his troops to the left; and his ca⯑valry fought for ſome time without the pre⯑ſence 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 en⯑counter 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 attack⯑ed 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 com⯑manded by the marſhal and elector, while at the ſame time the forces in the village of Blen⯑heim were ſeparated by another detachment. In this diſtreſſed ſituation, Tallard flew to rally ſome ſquadrons; but from his ſhort ſighted⯑neſs [109] 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 con⯑ſternation 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 ſee⯑ing themſelves cut off from all communica⯑tion with the reſt of the army, threw down their arms, and ſurrendered themſelves priſon⯑ers of war. Thus ended the battle of Blen⯑heim, one of the moſt complete victories that ever was obtained. Twelve thouſand French and Bavarians were ſlain in the field, or drown⯑ed in the Danube, and thirteen thouſand were made priſoners of war. Of the allies about five thouſand men were killed, and eight thou⯑ſand wounded or taken. The loſs of the bat⯑tle [110] was imputed to two capital errors commit⯑ted by marſhal Tallard; namely, his weak⯑ening 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 Marlbo⯑rough viſited his priſoner, the marſhal, intend⯑ing 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 proceed⯑ed 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 eulo⯑gium [111] was pronounced upon his important ſer⯑vices by the lord-keeper as he entered the houſe of lords. The queen was not only pleaſ⯑ed 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 at⯑tempt upon Gibraltar, a city then belonging to the Spaniards, at that time ill provided with [112] 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 ſurren⯑der, but without effect. Next day the admi⯑ral 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 Whita⯑ker to arm all the boats, and aſſault that quar⯑ter. Thoſe officers who happened to be near⯑eſt 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 ſuc⯑ceſs [113] 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 com⯑mand, for having ſo eſſentially ſerved his coun⯑try. 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 repair⯑ing of fleets, or the equipment of armies.

Soon after the taking this important garri⯑ſon, 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 Ma⯑laga. This was the laſt great naval engage⯑ment in which the French ventured to face the Engliſh upon equal terms; all their [114] 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 doubt⯑ful ſucceſs till two in the afternoon, when the van of the French gave way. For two ſuc⯑ceſſive days the Engliſh admiral endea⯑voured to renew the engagement, which the French fleet as cautiouſly declined, and at laſt diſappeared totally. Both nations at⯑tempted 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. Phi⯑lip, king of Spain, alarmed at the reduction of that fortreſs, ſent the marquis of Villadu⯑rias 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 [115] attempted to ſcale the rock in vain, finding no hopes of taking the place, were contented to draw off their men, and abandon the enter⯑prize.

While the Engliſh were thus victorious by land and ſea, a new ſcene of contention was opened on the ſide of Spain, where the ambi⯑tion 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 re⯑ceived 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 gua⯑rantied by France herſelf, though ſhe now re⯑ſolved 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 aſſiſt⯑ance of the Engliſh and Portugueſe, who promiſed to arm in his cauſe. Upon his way to his newly aſſumed dominion he landed in [116] England, where he was received on ſhore by the dukes of Somerſet and Marlborough, who conducted him to Windſor. The queen's de⯑portment to him was equally noble and ob⯑liging, while, on his ſide, he gave general ſa⯑tisfaction, by the politeneſs and affability of his conduct. He was furniſhed with two hun⯑dred tranſports, thirty ſhips of war, and nine thouſand men, for the conqueſt of that exten⯑ſive empire. But the earl of Peterborough, a man of romantic bravery, offered to conduct them; and his ſingle ſervice was thought equi⯑valent 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 Revolu⯑tion, 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 mo⯑tives to this great undertaking. He was de⯑formed 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 a⯑mounted to little more than nine thouſand. The [117] 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 maga⯑zine was blown up. This ſtruck the garriſon that defended the fort with ſuch conſternation, that they ſurrendered without farther reſiſt⯑ance. 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 demand⯑ing and ſigning the neceſſary form upon theſe occaſions, a body of Germans and Cataloni⯑ans, 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. Pe⯑terborough, 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 coun⯑trymen, who had led on to the ſpoil. The conqueſt of all Valencia ſucceeded the taking [118] of this important place. The enemy endea⯑voured indeed to retake Barcelona; but were repulſed with loſs, and the affairs of Philip ſeemed deſperate. The party that acknow⯑leged 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 Gal⯑way 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 inde⯑ciſive.

In the mean time the Engliſh paid very lit⯑tle 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 ex⯑pected 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 [119] 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 re⯑ſolved 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 priſo⯑ners, and about eight thouſand were killed and wounded. This victory was almoſt as ſignal as that of Blenheim; Bavaria and Co⯑logne were the fruits of the one, and all Bra⯑bant was gained by the other. The French troops were diſpirited; the city of Paris was [120] in confuſion. Lewis, who had long been flat⯑tered 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 com⯑mand, 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 pre⯑vailing influence over the whole nation. The people of every rank were not aſhamed to de⯑fend the moſt ſervile tenets, when they tend⯑ded [122] to flatter or encreaſe the power of the ſo⯑vereign. They argued in favour of ſtrict he⯑reditary ſucceſſion, divine right, and non-re⯑ſiſtance to the regal power. The ſpirit of Tory⯑iſm 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 oppo⯑ſite to their own; and only longed for an op⯑portunity 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 na⯑tion, 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 de⯑termined leaders to conduct them in removing the preſent miniſtry.

In the mean time, a pauſe of victory, or ra⯑ther a ſucceſſion of loſſes began to diſſipate [123] the conquering phrenzy, which had ſeized the nation, and incline them to wiſh for peace. The army under Charles in Spain was then command⯑ed 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 thi⯑ther 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 Brit⯑tain 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 flank⯑ed and ſurrounded on every ſide. In this dread⯑ful emergency they formed themſelves into a ſquare, and retired to an eminence, where, be⯑ing ignorant of the country, and deſtitute of all ſupplies, they were obliged to ſurrender priſoners of war, to the number of ten thou⯑ſand 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 [124] ſucceſs as in the former inſtance. The prince, with a body of thirty thouſand men, took poſ⯑ſeſſion 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 enter⯑prize; 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 twen⯑ty-ſecond day of October, about eight at night a violent ſtorm ariſing, his ſhip was daſhed up⯑on 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 Weſt⯑minſter-Abbey.

Nor were the allies more proſperous on the Upper Rhine in Germany. Marſhal Villars, the French general, carried all before him, and [125] 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 intelli⯑gence that the French army was ſuperior in num⯑bers, declined an engagement; and rather en⯑deavoured 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-quar⯑ters, 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 mea⯑ſure of the greateſt importance took place in parliament; a meaſure that had been wiſhed by many, but thought too difficult for execu⯑tion. What I mean, is the union between the two kingdoms of England and Scotland; which, though they were governed by one ſo⯑vereign ſince the acceſſion of James the firſt, [126] yet were ſtill ruled by their reſpective parlia⯑ments, 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 admi⯑niſtration 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 pre⯑liminary 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.

[127]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 pro⯑nounced by the lord keeper of England, and the lord chancellor of Scotland, the conference began. The Scotch commiſſioners were in⯑clined to a foederal union, like that of the United Provinces; but the Engliſh were bent upon an incorporation, ſo that no Scottiſh par⯑liament ſhould ever have power to repeal the articles of the treaty. The lord keeper Cow⯑per, propoſed that the two kingdoms of Eng⯑land 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 here⯑ditary monarch. The Scotch commiſſioners on their ſide, inſiſted that the ſubjects of Scot⯑land, ſhould for ever enjoy the ſame rights and privileges with thoſe of England; and that all ſtatutes, contrary to the tenor of theſe pri⯑vileges in either kingdom, ſhould be repealed. As the queen frequently exhorted the com⯑miſſioners to diſpatch, the articles of this fa⯑mous union were ſoon agreed to, and ſigned [128] by the commiſſioners; and it only remained to lay them before the parliaments of both na⯑tions.

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 govern⯑ment and policy, ſhould be the ſame through⯑out the two united kingdoms; but that no al⯑teration ſhould be made in laws which concern⯑ed private right, except for the evident bene⯑fit 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 par⯑liament 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 Scot⯑land ſhould be conſidered as peers of Great [129] Britain, and rank immediately after the Eng⯑liſh 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 privi⯑leges 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 ſup⯑porters, [130] that an entire and perfect union would be the ſolid foundation of a laſting peace. It would ſecure their religion, liberty and proper⯑ty, remove the animoſities that prevailed a⯑mong themſelves, and the jealouſies that ſub⯑ſiſted between the two nations. It would en⯑creaſe their ſtrength, riches, and commerce, the whole iſland would be joined in affection, and freed from all apprehenſions of different inte⯑reſts. It would be enabled to reſiſt all its ene⯑mies, ſupport the proteſtant intereſt, and main⯑tain 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 a⯑mount to a ſeventieth part of thoſe ſupplied by the Engliſh; and yet their ſhare in the le⯑giſlature was not a tenth part leſs. Such were the arguments in favour of the union, addreſ⯑ſed to the Scotch parliament. In the Engliſh houſes it was obſerved, that a powerful and dangerous nation would thus for ever be pre⯑vented from giving them any diſturbance. That in caſe of any future rupture, England [131] 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 advan⯑tage. 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 partici⯑pation of their neceſſities. It was ſaid that the Scotch reluctantly yielded to this coali⯑tion, and that it might be likened to a mar⯑riage with a woman againſt her conſent. It was ſuppoſed to be an union made up of ſo many unmatched pieces, and ſuch incongruous in⯑gredients, 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.

[132]To theſe arguments in both nations, beſide the ſhew of a particular anſwer to each, one great argument was uſed, which preponderat⯑ed againſt all the leſſer ones. It was obſerv⯑ed, that all inconveniences were to be over⯑looked in the attainment of one great ſolid ad⯑vantage; that of acting with an uniformity of councils for the benefit of a community natu⯑rally 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 imprac⯑ticable, 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 re⯑cited by way of preamble; and in the conclu⯑ſion there was one clauſe, by which the whole was ratified, and enacted into a law. By this [133] contrivance, thoſe who were deſirous of ſtart⯑ing new difficulties found themſelves diſabled from purſuing their aim; they could not ob⯑ject 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 be⯑fore paſſed with the approbation of the majo⯑rity. 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 ſe⯑cond time with equal eaſe, and when it receiv⯑ed 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 vio⯑lently oppoſed it; for they conſidered the Scotch, in a body, as Whigs, and ſuppoſed that their in⯑tereſt would become more powerful by this aſſo⯑ciation. But never were men more agreeably diſappointed than the Tories were in this par⯑ticular. The majority of the Scotch nation, which was entirely againſt uniting with Eng⯑land, were ſo much diſſatisfied with this mea⯑ſure, that they immediately joined in oppoſ⯑ing the miniſtry, by whom they were thus compelled to unite. The members them⯑ſelves were diſaffected to the meaſure, and ſe⯑cretly 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 [135] of Marlborough, had long been in poſſeſſion of the queen's confidence and favour; and turn⯑ed 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 miſma⯑nagement. 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 obe⯑dience; and inſtead of attempting to thwart her as the dutcheſs had done, ſhe joined in [136] 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 in⯑triguing 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 ad⯑vantages 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 fa⯑mous lord Bolingbroke, a man of great elo⯑quence [137] and greater ambition, enterpriſing, reſt⯑leſs, active, and haughty, with ſome wit and little principle. This ſtateſman was at firſt contented to act in an inferior capacity, ſub⯑ſervient 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 unit⯑ing, exerted their endeavours to rally and re⯑concile 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 con⯑vince them of the truth of their aſſertions, the queen herſelf ſhortly after beſtowed two bi⯑ſhopricks on clergymen, who had openly con⯑demned the Revolution.

It was now perceived that the people them⯑ſelves began to be weary of the Whig mi⯑niſtry, whom they formerly careſſed. To them they imputed the burthens under which they groaned, burthens which they had been hi⯑therto [138] animated to bear by the pomp of tri⯑umph; 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 late⯑ly ſuſtained repeated loſſes, for want of proper convoys; the coin of the nation was viſibly diminiſhed, and the public credit began to de⯑cline.

The miniſtry were for a long time ignorant of theſe ſecret murmurings, or, ſecure in their own ſtrength, pretended to deſpiſe them. In⯑ſtead, 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 Whar⯑ton, ſeconded by lord Somers, expatiated up⯑on 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 [139] 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. Ox⯑ford was at the bottom of all theſe complaints; and though they did not produce an imme⯑diate 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 pre⯑tending coadjutor. The dutcheſs of Marlbo⯑rough perceived, when it was too late, that ſhe was ſupplanted by her inſidious rival; and her huſband found no other means of re-eſtabliſh⯑ing 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 con⯑tinued in his place. The queen, no way re⯑garding [140] the ſecret intrigues of her miniſters, was willing to keep them all in friendſhip, and endeavoured to appeaſe the duke's reſent⯑ment by every art of perſuaſion. But he was too confident of his own power, and con⯑tinued obſtinate in his refuſal. The earl of Godolphin and the duke went ſo far as to re⯑tire from court, and the queen ſaw herſelf in danger of being deſerted by her whole miniſ⯑try. 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 trea⯑ſurer.

The queen now, for the firſt time, perceived the power which theſe two miniſters had aſ⯑ſumed 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, there⯑fore, ſhe ſent for the duke of Marlborough, and told him that Harley ſhould immediately reſign his office; and it was accordingly con⯑ferred [141] 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 victo⯑ries 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 en⯑abled to throw off the maſk of friendſhip, and to take more vigorous meaſures for the proſe⯑cution of his deſigns. In him the queen re⯑poſed all her truſt, though he now had no vi⯑ſible concern in the adminiſtration. The firſt triumph of the Tories, in which the queen [142] diſcovered a public partiality in their favour, was ſeen in a tranſaction of no great im⯑portance 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 oc⯑caſion.

Henry Sacheverel was a clergyman bred at Oxford, of narrow intellects, and an overheated imagination. He had acquired ſome popula⯑rity 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, in⯑veighed againſt the toleration of diſſenters, de⯑clared 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 Ger⯑rard, lord-mayor, countenanced this harangue, which, though very weak both in the matter [143] and ſtyle, was publiſhed under his protection, and extolled by the Tories as a maſter-piece of writing. Theſe ſermons owed all their ce⯑lebrity 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 men⯑tioned 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 con⯑duct the proſecution, in the name of the com⯑mons of all England. A committee was ap⯑pointed 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 ap⯑proved his principles, were as violent in his [144] defence, as the commons had been in his pro⯑ſecution. 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 pro⯑ceed 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 al⯑moſt every country of Europe. The dangers were magnified to which the church was ex⯑poſed from diſſenters, Whigs, and luke-warm prelates. Theſe they repreſented as the au⯑thors 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, [145] or ſilently praying for his ſucceſs. The ma⯑nagers for the commons were Sir Joſeph Je⯑kyl, 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 Sache⯑verel."’ They deſtroyed ſeveral meeting houſes, plundered the dwellings of many emi⯑nent diſſenters, and even propoſed to attack the bank. The queen, in compliance with the requeſt of the commons, publiſhed a pro⯑clamation for ſuppreſſing the tumults; and ſe⯑veral perſons being apprehended were tried for high-treaſon. Two were convicted, and ſen⯑tenced to die; but neither ſuffered.

When the commons had gone through their charge, the managers for Sacheverel under⯑took 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. [146] In this he ſolemnly juſtified his intentions to⯑wards the queen and her government. He ſpoke in the moſt reſpectful terms of the Re⯑volution, 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 en⯑couraged 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 unde⯑termined for ſome time. At length, after much obſtinate diſpute, and virulent alterca⯑tion, Sacheverel was found guilty by a majo⯑rity of ſeventeen voices; but no leſs than four and thirty peers entered a proteſt againſt this deciſion. He was prohibited from preaching [147] for three years; and his two ſermons were ordered to be burned by the hands of the com⯑mon 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 bon⯑fires and illuminations, and openly avowed their rage againſt his perſecutors. Soon af⯑ter 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 ob⯑ject of their adoration. He was received in ſeveral towns by the magiſtrates in their for⯑malities, and often attended by a body of a thouſand horſe. At Bridgenorth he was met by one Mr. Creſwell, at the head of four thou⯑ſand men on horſeback, and as many on foot, wearing white knots, edged with gold. The hedges were for two miles dreſſed with gar⯑lands, and the ſteeples covered with ſtream⯑ers, flags, and colours. The church, and doctor Sacheverel, was the univerſal cry, and [148] 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 in⯑dulging themſelves in chuſing repreſentatives to their mind. In fact, very few were re⯑turned, but ſuch as had diſtinguiſhed them⯑ſelves by their zeal againſt the Whig admini⯑ſtration. The Whigs were no longer able to keep their ground againſt the voice of the peo⯑ple, and the power of the queen. Tho' they had entrenched themſelves behind a very for⯑midable 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.

[149]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 Marlbo⯑rough, containing propoſals for opening a congreſs. He offered to give up either Spain and its dominions, or the kingdoms of Na⯑ples 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 conti⯑nue the war, as it gratified not only his ambi⯑tion, 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 vic⯑tory, Liſle, the ſtrongeſt town in all Flanders, [150] was taken, after an obſtinate ſiege. Ghent followed ſoon after; while Bruges, and the other leſſer towns in French Flanders, were aban⯑doned by their defenders. Thus this cam⯑paign 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 ſacri⯑fice 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, how⯑ever, 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 opera⯑tions of the allied army, which now a⯑mounted 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 na⯑ture, that the ſiege promiſed to hold out much longer than was expected. Nothing could be [151] 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 pre⯑ſented 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 [152] 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, notwith⯑ſtanding their lines and barricadoes, the French were in leſs than an hour driven from their in⯑trenchments. But on the enemies right the combat was ſuſtained with much greater ob⯑ſtinacy. The Dutch, who carried on the at⯑tack, 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 incre⯑dible 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 [153] beſt troops lay ſlain. The marſhal Villars con⯑fidently aſſerted, that if he had not been diſa⯑bled, 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 con⯑cluded 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, re⯑ſident 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 con⯑ſidering 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 [154] ſeeing the miſery of his people daily encreaſe, and all his reſources fail, continued to humble himſelf before the allies; and by means of Pet⯑kum, 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, un⯑der 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 ſubject⯑ed 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 hav⯑ing ſent a letter to the ſtates, in which they declared that the propoſals made by their deputies were unjuſt and impracticable, and [155] 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 pro⯑cure him more favourable conceſſions.

But though the duke by this means pro⯑tracted his power on the continent, all his in⯑fluence at home was at an end. The mem⯑bers 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-re⯑ſiſtance; and the queen did not ſcruple to re⯑ceive them with ſome pleaſure. But when the conferences were ended at Gertruydenburgh, the deſigns of the Dutch and Engliſh com⯑manders 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 ex⯑hauſting her ſtrength in foreign conqueſts for the benefit of other nations, ſhe was loſing her liberty at home. They aſſerted that her [156] miniſters were not contented with ſharing the plunder of an unpoveriſhed ſtate, but, by con⯑trolling 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 be⯑come inſupportable to her. The queen had entirely withdrawn her confidence from her; and ſhe was reſolved to ſeize the firſt opportu⯑nity 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 fa⯑vourite 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 repre⯑ſented to the queen the prejudice that would redound to the ſervice from the promotion of [157] 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 con⯑ſcious 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 en⯑tirely 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 mor⯑tified at many parts of his conduct, not to wiſh for his removal; but ſhe for the pre⯑ſent inſiſted on his continuing in com⯑mand.

[158]She acted with leſs duplicity towards the dutcheſs, who, ſuppoſing from the queen's pre⯑ſent 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 ma⯑jeſty, on pretence of vindicating her character from ſome aſperſions. She hoped to work upon the queen's tenderneſs, by tears, entrea⯑ties, and ſupplications. But all her humi⯑liations, ſerved only to render her more con⯑temptible 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 entrea⯑ties, 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. Har⯑ley, 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 cham⯑berlain [159] from the duke of Kent to the duke of Shrewſbury, who had lately voted with the Tories, and maintained an intimate correſ⯑pondence 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 ap⯑plauded than condemned for this reſolute pro⯑ceeding, 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 chan⯑cellor of the exchequer, and under-treaſurer. The earl of Rocheſter was declared preſident of the council, in the room of lord Somers. [160] The ſtaff of lord ſteward being taken from the duke of Devonſhire, was given to the duke of Buckingham; and Mr. Boyle was re⯑moved from the ſecretary's office, to make way for Mr. Henry St. John. The lord chan⯑cellor having reſigned the great ſeal, it was firſt put in commiſſion, and then given to Sir Si⯑mon Harcourt. The earl of Wharton ſur⯑rendered 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, un⯑til 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 ar⯑dent in their expreſſions of zeal and unanimity. They exhorted her to diſcountenance all ſuch principles and meaſures, as had lately threat⯑ened her royal crown and dignity. This was [161] 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 peo⯑ple, was now become the object of their hatred and reproach. His avarice was juſtly upbraid⯑ed; 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, Har⯑ley, 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 [162] the affairs of France, thought himſelf ill reward⯑ed 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 Har⯑ley or St. John. Enraged at theſe diſappoint⯑ments, 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 war⯑rant 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 be⯑fore 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 endea⯑voured to evade his examination, and entreat⯑ed to ſpeak with Mr. ſecretary St. John in pri⯑vate. His requeſt, however, being refuſed, he ſaid, ‘"That's hard! not one word!"’ Up⯑on 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 [163] blade of the knife broke upon the rib, with⯑out entering the cavity of the breaſt; never⯑theleſs he repeated the blow with ſuch vio⯑lence that Harley fell to the ground. St. John perceiving what had happened, inſtantly drew his ſword, and ſeveral others following his ex⯑ample, Guiſcard was wounded in ſeveral places. He ſtill, however, continued to ſtrike and de⯑fend 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 po⯑litical 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.

[164]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 al⯑moſt to bankruptcy; and as it promiſed, in⯑ſtead 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 plea⯑ſure of talking at their entertainments and meetings of their diſtant conqueſts, and of ex⯑tolling the bravery of their acquaintance, was all the return they were likely to receive for a diminiſhed people, and an exhauſted exche⯑quer. The firſt doubts, therefore, of the ex⯑pedience of continuing the war, were introdu⯑ced into the houſe of commons. The members made a remonſtrance to the queen, in which they complained loudly of the former adminiſ⯑tration. They ſaid, that in tracing the cauſes of the national debt, they had diſcovered great [165] frauds and embezzlements of the public mo⯑ney. 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 Marl⯑borough 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 re⯑ſolved 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 ex⯑ploit. He contrived his meaſures ſo, that he induced the enemy, by marching and counter⯑marching, to quit a ſtrong line of intrench⯑ments 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. [166] 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 coun⯑try. They had reduced, under their com⯑mand, Spaniſh Guelderland, Limbourg, Bra⯑bant, Flanders, and Hainault; they were maſ⯑ters of the Scarpe, and the capture of Bou⯑chain 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 diſ⯑miſs 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 ac⯑cumulating money, was a paſſion that attend⯑ed 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 re⯑move. He not only received this gratuity, [167] 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 de⯑duction of two and a half per cent. from the pay of the foreign troops maintained by Eng⯑land, and all this over and above his ordinary pay as general of the Britiſh forces. Many ex⯑cuſes might have been given for his accept⯑ance 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 ge⯑nerally been the reſult of a Tory adminiſtra⯑tion. For ſome time, therefore, before the diſ⯑miſſion 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 [169] 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, with⯑out 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 ad⯑vantages 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 intima⯑tion was delivered by one Gualtier, an obſcure prieſt, who was chaplain to the Imperial am⯑baſſador, 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, [170] 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 contri⯑buting to the concluſion of a durable peace; but they expreſſed a deſire that the French king would be more explicit in his offers to⯑wards ſettling the repoſe of Europe. In order to give the Dutch ſome ſatisfaction in this par⯑ticular, a previous conference between the French and Engliſh courts took place. Prior, much more famous as a poet than as a ſtateſ⯑man, was ſent over with propoſals to France; and Menager, a man of no great ſtation, re⯑turned with Prior to London, with full powers to treat upon the preliminaries. After long and intricate debates, certain preliminary ar⯑ticles 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 re⯑called from the Hague, where he reſided as ambaſſador, was now ſent back to Holland, [171] with orders to communicate to the penſionary Heinſius, the preliminary propoſals, to ſignify the queen's approbation of them, and to pro⯑poſe a place where the plenipotentiaries ſhould aſſemble. The Dutch were very averſe to be⯑gin 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 em⯑pire, 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 or⯑der to throw blame upon the miniſtry, and ren⯑der their proceedings odious to the people. The Dutch began to complain of perfidy, and laboured to raiſe a diſcontent in England a⯑gainſt 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 lam⯑poons, [172] were every day publiſhed by one fac⯑tion, 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 pre⯑vail; he found at court, indeed, a polite re⯑ception, 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 de⯑ſerve. Still, therefore, meaſures for the con⯑ference were going forward, and the miniſtry were determined to drive them on to a con⯑cluſion.

However, before we mention the reſult of this great congreſs, it may be neceſſary to ap⯑prize 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 pre⯑tenſions to the Spaniſh monarchy; and the [173] ſame jealouſy which invited him to that king⯑dom, 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 ſup⯑poſed that all the other deputies ſerved rather to retard than advance its progreſs. They met rather to ſtart new difficulties, and widen [174] the breach, than to quiet the diſſentions of Eu⯑rope. 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 peo⯑ple.

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 ba⯑lance, which was yet wavering, in their favour. But in their preſent ſituation, therefore, diſ⯑patch was greatly requiſite. In caſe of their ſovereign's death, they had nothing to expect but proſecution and ruin for obeying her com⯑mands, unleſs there was time given to draw [175] the people from the intoxication of their ſuc⯑ceſſes, and until the utility of their meaſures were found juſtified by the people's happy ex⯑perience. Thus the peace was haſtened, and this haſte relaxed the Engliſh miniſters ſeveri⯑ty, in inſiſting upon ſuch terms and advantages as they had a right to demand.

With theſe views the Engliſh miniſters, find⯑ing multiplied obſtructions from the delibera⯑tions of their allies, ſet on foot a private ne⯑gotiation with France. They ſtipulated cer⯑tain advantages for the ſubjects of Great Bri⯑tain in a concerted plan of peace. They re⯑ſolved to enter into ſuch mutual confidence with the French, as would anticipate all clan⯑deſtine tranſactions to the prejudice of the coalition. Theſe articles were privately regu⯑lated 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 ſpeci⯑fic offers, which the confederates treated with indignation and contempt, who, on the other hand, drew up their ſpecific demands, which [176] were conſidered as highly extravagant by the miniſters of France. Conference followed confe⯑rence; 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 confede⯑rates ſtill obſtinately attached to their firſt pre⯑liminaries, 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 en⯑gagements.

The firſt inſtance of diſpleaſure which was ſhewn to the confederates, was by an or⯑der given to the Engliſh army in Flanders not to act upon the offenſive. Upon the diſ⯑miſſion 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 [177] let into the ſecret, adviſed the attacking Vil⯑lars; but he ſoon found how affairs ſtood with his coadjutor. Ormond himſelf ſeemed ex⯑tremely uneaſy at his ſituation; and, in a let⯑ter to the ſecretary in England, deſired per⯑miſſion to return home. But the confe⯑derates 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 re⯑fuſing 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 [178] could doubt of the duke of Ormond's cou⯑rage, 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 fur⯑ther 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 re⯑ſolved to continue the war ſeparately. They had the utmoſt confidence in prince Eugene, their general; and though leſſened by the de⯑fection 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 de⯑ſtroyed or taken. The earl himſelf, and all the ſurviving officers, were made priſoners of war.

[179]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 threat⯑ened the intereſts of Europe was, leſt both kingdoms ſhould be united under one ſove⯑reign; 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 expedi⯑ents, 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 diſtin⯑guiſhed marks of reſpect. He was careſſed by the French king, and the marquis de Tor⯑cy, with whom he adjuſted the principal in⯑tereſts of the duke of Savoy, and the elector of Bavaria. This negociation being finiſhed in a few days, Bolingbroke returned to Eng⯑land, [180] and Prior remained as reſident at the court of France.

In the mean time the articles of the in⯑tended treaty were warmly canvaſſed among all ranks of people in London. A duel, which was fought between the duke of Ha⯑milton 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 fa⯑vour of the Whigs, the Tories exclaimed againſt the event as a party duel; and ab⯑ſurdly 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 com⯑merce 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 [181] 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 hiſ⯑tory. The number of different intereſts con⯑cerned, and the great enmity and jealouſy ſub⯑ſiſting 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 pow⯑ers concerned to make their own articles, and to leave the reſt for a ſubject of future diſcuſ⯑ſion.

[182]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 bro⯑ther, and after him in ſucceſſion, ſhould alſo renounce his right to the crown of Spain, in caſe he became king of France. It was ſtipu⯑lated that the duke of Savoy ſhould poſſeſs the iſland of Sicily, with the title of king, to⯑gether 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 ſe⯑cured. The fortifications of Dunkirk, an harbour that might be dangerous to their trade in time of war, were ordered to be demoliſh⯑ed, and its port deſtroyed. Spain gave up all right to Gibraltar, and the iſland of Minorca. [183] 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 Nether⯑lands. The king of Pruſſia was to have Up⯑per Guelder; and a time was fixed for the em⯑peror'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 dif⯑ferent 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 com⯑plaining of this deſertion in their allies, re⯑ſolved 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 [184] of Raſtadt, in which their intereſts were aſcer⯑tained, and the treaty of Utrecht confirmed.

The Engliſh being in this manner freed from their foreign enemies, had now full lei⯑ſure to indulge their domeſtic diſſenſions. The two parties never contended with greater ani⯑moſity, nor greater injuſtice, againſt each other. No merit could be allowed in thoſe of the op⯑poſite 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 pre⯑tender, 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 To⯑ries, 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 pre⯑tender; nay their reports went ſo far as to aſ⯑ſert that he was actually concealed in London, and that he had held ſeveral conferences with the miniſters of ſtate.

[185]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 appre⯑henſions to the elector, who, before he arrived in England, or conſidered the ſpirit of par⯑ties, was thoroughly prejudiced againſt the To⯑ries. 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 do⯑minions of the duke of Lorrain. They begged ſhe would give them a liſt of ſuch per⯑ſons as having been once attainted for their political miſconduct, had obtained licences to return into Great Britain ſince the Revo⯑lution. Mr. Steele, afterwards known as the celebrated Sir Richard Steele, was not a little active in raiſing and ſpreading theſe re⯑ports. 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.

[186]But while the Whigs were attacking the mi⯑niſters from without, theſe were in much great⯑er 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 de⯑ſigns, 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 com⯑mand, the other reluctant to obey; the firſt bent on maintaining that rank in the admini⯑ſtration, which he had obtained upon the diſſo⯑lution of the laſt miniſtry, the other diſdain⯑ing to act as a ſubaltern to a man whom he thought himſelf able to inſtruct. Both, there⯑fore, 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 ſucceſ⯑ſion; Bolingbroke had ſome hopes of bringing in the pretender. But though they hated each other moſt ſincerely, yet they were for a while [187] kept together by the good offices of their friends and adherents, who had the melancholy proſ⯑pect of ſeeing the citadel of their hopes, while openly beſieged from without, ſecretly under⯑mining within.

This was a mortifying proſpect to the To⯑ries; 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 turn⯑ed into a ſcene of obſtinate diſpute, and bit⯑ter altercation. Even in the queen's preſence, the treaſurer and ſecretary did not abſtain from mutual obloquy and reproach. As Ox⯑ford foreſaw that the Whig miniſtry would force themſelves in, he was for moderate mea⯑ſures. 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 tranſ⯑actions, in the courſe of which he endeavoured to juſtify his own conduct, and expoſe the tur⯑bulent [188] and ambitious ſpirit of his rival. On the other hand, Bolingbroke charged the trea⯑ſurer with having invited the Duke of Marl⯑borough 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, Ox⯑ford was removed from his employments, and his rival ſeemed to triumph in his new victory.

But this paltry triumph was but of ſhort du⯑ration. 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 proſ⯑pect 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 de⯑clared ſhe could not outlive it, and immediate⯑ly ſunk into a ſtate of lethargic inſenſibility. Notwithſtanding all the medicines which the [189] 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 junc⯑ture, 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, with⯑out diſtinction, being now ſummoned from the different parts of the kingdom, began to pro⯑vide for the ſecurity of the conſtitution. They ſent a letter to the elector of Hanover, inform⯑ing 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 [190] 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 com⯑mand of the fleet was beſtowed upon the earl of Berkeley, a profeſſed Whig. Theſe mea⯑ſures, 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 apo⯑plexy, from which, however, ſhe was ſome⯑what 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 ex⯑pired the following morning, which was the firſt of Auguſt, a little after ſeven o'clock, in the [191] 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 hap⯑pineſs of ſecurity and conqueſt

This princeſs was rather amiable than great, rather pleaſing than beautiful; neither her ca⯑pacity nor learning were remarkable. Like all the reſt of her family, ſhe ſeemed rather fitted for the private duties of life, than a pub⯑lic ſtation; being a pattern of conjugal fidelity, a good mother, a warm friend, and an indul⯑gent miſtreſs. During her reign none ſuffered on the ſcaffold for treaſon; for when an op⯑preſſed 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 ex⯑pect from their followers more than manhood in their defence; a family that never rewarded their friends, and never avenged them of their enemies.

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 fre⯑quent uſe, the Whigs were now ſtyled Hano⯑verians, and the Tories were branded with the appellation of Jacobites. The former boaſted of a proteſtant king, the latter of an hereditary [193] monarch, the former urged the wiſdom of their new monarch, and the latter alledged that theirs was an Engliſhman. It is eaſy to per⯑ceive, 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 ri⯑dicule which attended their inconſiſtent con⯑duct, all ſerved to complete their confuſion. Up⯑on recollection, they ſaw nothing ſo eligi⯑ble in the preſent criſis, as ſilence and ſub⯑miſſion; they hoped much from the aſſiſtance of France, and ſtill more from the popularity and councils of the pretender. This unfortu⯑nate 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 con⯑duct ſo deſperate a cauſe; and in fact, all the ſenſible part of the kingdom had forſaken it as irretrievable.

[194]Purſuant to the act of ſucceſſion, George the firſt, ſon of Erneſt Auguſtus, firſt elector of Brunſwick, and the princeſs Sophia, grand⯑daughter to James the firſt, aſcended the Bri⯑tiſh throne. His mature age, he being now fifty-four years old, his ſagacity and expe⯑rience, 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 diſpoſi⯑tion from the Stuart family, whom he ſucceed⯑ed. 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. How⯑ever, one fault with reſpect to England re⯑mained 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 in⯑ſtruments were produced, by which the elector appointed ſeveral of his known adherents to be added as lords juſtices to the ſeven great [195] 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 rein⯑forced the garriſon of Portſmouth, and appoint⯑ed the celebrated Mr. Addiſon ſecretary of ſtate. To mortify the late miniſtry the more, lord Bo⯑lingbroke was obliged to wait every morning in the paſſage, among the ſervants, with his bag of papers, where there were perſons purpoſe⯑ly placed to inſult and deride him. No tu⯑mult 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 Northumber⯑land, 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 per⯑ſons of diſtinction, who expected to make their court in this reign, in conſequence of their turbu⯑lence and oppoſition to the laſt. When he retired to his bed-chamber, he then ſent for ſuch of the [196] nobility as had diſtinguiſhed themſelves by their zeal for his ſucceſſion. But the duke of Or⯑mond, the lord chancellor, and the lord trea⯑ſurer, found themſelves excluded. Lord Ox⯑ford, the next morning, preſented himſelf with an air of confidence, ſuppoſing that his rup⯑ture with Bolingbroke would compenſate for his former conduct. But he had the mortifi⯑cation 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 Marl⯑borough, who had juſt come from the conti⯑nent, 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 in⯑tereſts and prejudices. None now but the leaders of a party were admitted into employ⯑ment. 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 [197] to their ſovereign. An inſtantaneous and total change was made in all the offices of truſt, honour, or advantage. The Whigs go⯑verned 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 com⯑motions, 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 un⯑wary. In theſe papers he obſerved, that the late queen had intentions of calling him to the crown. He expoſtulated with his people up⯑on [198] 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 re⯑form his own, or to correct that objection, up⯑on which his father had forfeited the throne. He ſtill continued to profeſs the trueſt regard to the catholic religion; and inſtead of con⯑cealing 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 diſ⯑pleaſing. It was againſt them and their tenets, that mobs were excited, and riots became fre⯑quent. How violent ſoever the conduct of either party ſeemed to be, yet their animoſities were founded upon religion, and they commit⯑ed every exceſs upon principles, that had their [199] foundation in ſome miſtaken virtue. It was now ſaid, by the Tories, that impiety and he⯑reſy 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 pro⯑duced 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 [200] they carry on the diſpute. To ſilence argu⯑ment 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 con⯑cern.

The parliament being diſſolved, another was called by a very extraordinary proclamation. In this the king complained of the evil de⯑ſigns 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 par⯑ticular, as had expreſſed a firm attachment to the proteſtant ſucceſſion when it was in dan⯑ger. It was thus that this monarch was tu⯑tored by the faction around him, to look with an evil eye on ſubjects that never oppoſed the ſucceſſion; ſubjects that deteſted a popiſh mo⯑narch, 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 mo⯑nied intereſt that prevailed in corporations, and [201] 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 parlia⯑ment, 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 ſuf⯑ficient for that purpoſe. He warned them, that the pretender boaſted of the aſſiſtance he expected in England to repair his former diſ⯑appointments. He intimated alſo, that he ex⯑pected their aſſiſtance in puniſhing ſuch as en⯑deavoured to deprive him of that bleſſing he moſt valued, the affection of his people. As the houſes were pre-diſpoſed to violent mea⯑ſures, this ſerved to give them the alarm; and they out-went even the moſt ſanguine expecta⯑tions of the moſt vindictive miniſtry.

The lords, in return to the ſpeech, profeſſed their hopes that the king would be able to re⯑cover the reputation of the kingdom on the continent, the loſs of which they affected to [202] 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 Stan⯑hope 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 en⯑ter 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 mea⯑ſures, [203] were reproached as deſigning to bring in the pretender; and moſt people were conſe⯑quently afraid to murmur, ſince diſcontent was ſo near a-kin to treaſon. The people, therefore, beheld the violence of their con⯑duct 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; find⯑ing 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 pre⯑judged 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, con⯑ſiſting of twenty perſons, to inſpect all the pa⯑pers 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, de⯑clared [204] to the houſe that a report was drawn up; and in the mean time, moved that a war⯑rant 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 amaze⯑ment, 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 im⯑peach 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 miſdemea⯑nors."’

[205]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 de⯑bate 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 low⯑eſt. 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 an⯑ſwered, with great warmth, that there were ſeveral perſons both in and out of the com⯑mittee, 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 [206] 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 cuſ⯑tody. When this point came to be debated in the houſe of lords a violent altercation en⯑ſued. Thoſe who ſtill adhered to the depoſed minſter maintained the injuſtice and the dan⯑ger of ſuch a proceeding. At laſt the earl himſelf roſe up, and, with great tranquillity, ſpoke to the following purpoſe. After ob⯑ſerving 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 di⯑rections and command of the queen my miſtreſs, and never offended againſt any known law. I am juſtified in my own con⯑ſcience, and unconcerned for the life of an inſignificant old man. But I cannot, with⯑out the higheſt ingratitude, remain uncon⯑cerned 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 [207] proceedings, it may one day or other be the caſe of all the members of this auguſt aſ⯑ſembly. 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 go⯑vernment. My lords, I am now to take my leave of your lordſhips, and of this ho⯑nourable 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 per⯑mitted to go, he was followed by a great mul⯑titude 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 [208] carried in the houſe that he ſhould be com⯑mitted. The ferment in the houſe ſtill conti⯑nued; the earl of Angleſey declared that ſuch violent meaſures would make the ſceptre ſhake in the king's hands. This encreaſed the tu⯑mult; 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 at⯑tended in his way to the Tower by a prodi⯑gious 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, de⯑claring, that if any perſons, to the number of twelve, unlawfully aſſembled, ſhould continue together one hour after being required to diſ⯑perſe by a juſtice of peace, or other officer, and after hearing the act againſt riots read in public, they ſhould be deemed guilty of fe⯑lony, without benefit of clergy. This is a very ſevere act, and one of the greateſt re⯑ſtrictions on the liberty of the ſubject that paſſed during this century. By this, all meet⯑ings of the people, either for the purpoſes of [209] amuſement or redreſs, are rendered criminal, if it ſhall pleaſe any magiſtrate to conſider them as ſuch. It is, indeed, very remark⯑able, 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 deli⯑vered 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 con⯑ſequence of this a committee was appointed to manage his impeachment, and to prepare evi⯑dence againſt him. By this committee it was reported, that Mr. Prior had groſly prevari⯑cated 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 li⯑mited [210] time, it was ordered that the earl mar⯑ſhal 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 un⯑ſucceſsfully. 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 or⯑dered to prepare for their charge. At the ap⯑pointed time the peers repaired to the court in Weſtminſter-hall, where lord Cowper pre⯑ſided [211] 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 Jo⯑ſeph Jekyl ſtood up to make good the firſt ar⯑ticle of the charge, which amounted only to a miſdemeanor, lord Harcourt repreſented to the lords that it would be tedious and unne⯑ceſſary 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 pro⯑ceed upon the more unimportant part of the accuſation, until judgment ſhould be firſt ob⯑tained upon the articles for high-treaſon. In this the lords agreeing, the commons declared that it was their undoubted privilege to im⯑peach a peer either for treaſon, or a miſde⯑meanor, 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 [212] was refuſed. The diſpute grew warm; the lords informed the lower houſe by meſſage that they would proceed to the trial; the com⯑mons 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 mention⯑ed, was accuſed in the ſame manner; and it is thought that his correſpondence with the pretender was better aſcertained than his ac⯑cuſers at firſt thought proper to declare. How⯑ever, Mr. Hutcheſon, one of the commiſſioners of trade, boldly ſpoke in his defence. He ex⯑patiated 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 affirm⯑ed that all the allegations againſt him could not, in rigour of the law, be conſtrued into [213] 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 entreat⯑ed 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 at⯑tached 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 num⯑ber that were driven into guilt, and then thought worthy of pardon.

In the mean time, theſe vindictive proceed⯑ings 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 [214] 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 reſent⯑ment 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 princi⯑ples 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, ammuni⯑tion, and a number of officers, together with aſſurances to the earl, that the pretender him⯑ſelf would ſhortly come over to head his own forces. The earl, in conſequence of this pro⯑miſe, 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 him⯑ſelf maſter of the whole fruitful province of Fife, and all the ſea coaſt on that ſide of the [215] 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 poſſeſſ⯑ed of his hereditary hatred; and upon this oc⯑caſion 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 expe⯑rienced 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 inten⯑tions, and at any rate willing to prove his at⯑tachment to the preſent government, reſolved [216] 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 hun⯑dred men, in order of battle; but he ſoon found himſelf greatly out-flanked by the ene⯑my. The duke, therefore, perceiving the earl making attempts to ſurround him, was obliged to alter his diſpoſition, which, on ac⯑count of the ſcarcity of general officers, was not done ſo expeditiouſly, as to be finiſhed be⯑fore 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, [217] 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 re⯑newing 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 advan⯑tages of the day, belonged only to the duke of Argyle. It was ſufficient for him to have in⯑terrupted 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 Inver⯑neſs, of which he was in poſſeſſion, was deli⯑vered up to the king by lord Lovat, who had hitherto profeſſed to act in the intereſt of the pre⯑tender. The marquis of Tullibardine forſook the earl, in order to defend his own part of the [218] country; and many of the clans ſeeing no like⯑lihood 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 enga⯑ged, lord Stair, the Engliſh ambaſſador there, had penetrated all his deſigns, and ſent faithful accounts of all his meaſures, and all his adhe⯑rents to the miniſtry at home. Upon the firſt rumour, therefore, of an inſurrection, they im⯑priſoned ſeveral lords and gentlemen, of whom they had a ſuſpicion. The earls of Home, Wintown, and Kinnoul, and others, were com⯑mitted to the caſtle of Edinburgh. The king obtained leave from the lower houſe to ſeize Sir William Wyndham, Sir John Pack⯑ington, 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.

[219]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 occa⯑ſion. 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 de⯑tached 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 [220] with prudence. The one was to march di⯑rectly 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 ac⯑tually 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 pre⯑tender. They continued their march to Pen⯑rith, where the body of the militia, that was aſſembled to oppoſe them, fled at their appear⯑ance. From Penrith, they proceeded, by the way of Kendal and Lancaſter, to Preſton, of which place they took poſſeſſion, without any reſiſt⯑ance. But this was the laſt ſtage of their ill adviſed incurſion; for general Wills, at the [221] 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 at⯑tack 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 capi⯑tulation. This, however, Wills refuſed, al⯑ledging, 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 im⯑priſoned at Cheſter and Liverpool; the noble⯑men and conſiderable officers were ſent to London, and led through the ſtreets, pinioned and bound together, to intimidate their party.

[222]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, compar⯑ed to that with which it was managed at Paris. Bolingbroke there had been made his ſecreta⯑ry, 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 par⯑ty, 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 intend⯑ed meaſures, were bandied about in coffee-houſes by perſons of the loweſt rank, both in fortune and abilities. Subaltern officers re⯑ſolved to be his generals; and even proſtitutes were entruſted to manage his negociations. Little, therefore, could be expected from ſuch aſſiſtants, and ſuch councils.

[223]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 Scot⯑land, 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 print⯑ed 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 coro⯑nation 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 [224] parade, he reſolved to abandon the enterprize with the ſame levity with which it was under⯑taken. 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 embark⯑ed 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 Aber⯑deen, where he ſecured three veſſels to ſail Northward, which took on board ſuch perſons as intended to make their eſcape to the conti⯑nent. 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 no⯑thing 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 [225] 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 ri⯑gorous manner, the authors of the late rebel⯑lion, 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 plead⯑ing guilty, all but lord Wintown, receiv⯑ed 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 exe⯑cuting 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 [226] and Kenmuir were brought to the ſcaffold on Tower-hill at the time appointed. Both un⯑derwent their ſentence with calm intrepidity, pitied by all, and ſeemingly leſs moved themſelves than thoſe who beheld them. Der⯑wentwater was particularly regretted, as he was generous, hoſpitable, and humane. His fortune being large, he gave bread to multi⯑tudes 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 pro⯑ceeding was conſidered, by ſome of the beſt lawyers, as an alteration of the ancient conſti⯑tution of the kingdom, by which it was con⯑firmed, 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 reach⯑ed the continent in ſafety, the reſt plead⯑ed not guilty. Pitts, the keeper of New⯑gate, being ſuſpected of having connived at Forſter's eſcape, was tried for his life, but ac⯑quitted. [227] Yet notwithſtanding this, Mackin⯑toſh 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 re⯑mained; four or five were hanged, drawn, and quartered, at Tyburn. Among theſe, Wil⯑liam 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 can⯑not 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 Liver⯑pool, 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 run⯑ing [228] through the revolutions of human tranſ⯑actions, 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 mo⯑narch, bred a papiſt himſelf, and confiding in popiſh counſellors, profeſſing a deſire to go⯑vern 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 ſlaugh⯑ter 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 bran⯑diſhing the ſword of juſtice, to ſtrike a vin⯑dictive blow. Clemency in the government at that time, would probably have extinguiſh⯑ed all that factious ſpirit which has ſince con⯑tinued 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 altera⯑tions 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 conſti⯑tution of the country, was kept under the con⯑troul of his miniſters, who, by their private con⯑nexions, governed the parliament. At the ſame time, the people, awed by the fears of im⯑puted Jacobitiſm, were afraid to murmur, and were content to give up their freedom for ſafe⯑ty. 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 pre⯑text for continuing the parliament beyond the term fixed for its diſſolution. An act, there⯑fore, [230] was made by their own authority, repeal⯑ing 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 diſaffec⯑tion. The people might murmur at this en⯑croachment, 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 extra⯑ordinary 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 Den⯑mark, which conſtituted a part of his domi⯑nions. George, therefore, having paſſed thro' Holland to Hanover, in order to ſecure his German dominions, entered into a new treaty [231] 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 correſ⯑pondence 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 king⯑dom. Count Gyllenburg, the Swediſh mi⯑niſter in London, was peculiarly active in the conſpiracy; but being ſeized with all his pa⯑pers, by order of the king, the confederacy was broke for this time. However, a bill was paſſed by the commons, prohibiting all com⯑merce 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.

[232]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 per⯑manence of dominion, but experience has ſuf⯑ficiently 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 re⯑nounce 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 Eng⯑liſh, 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 [233] pretenſions in that quarter. It was in vain that the regent of France attempted to diſ⯑ſuade him, in vain the king of England offer⯑ed his mediation, their interpoſition was re⯑jected as partial and unjuſt. War, in the pre⯑ſent exhauſted ſtate of the Engliſh finances, was a real evil; but a rupture with Spain was re⯑ſolved 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 demonſtra⯑tions 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 aſ⯑ſiſtance 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. How⯑ever, the Spaniſh fleet, upon perceiving the force of the Engliſh, attempted to ſail away, [234] 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 Cam⯑moc, 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, ap⯑proving his conduct. This victory, neceſſari⯑ly produced the reſentment and complaints of the Spaniſh miniſters in all the courts of Eu⯑rope; 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 pre⯑tender 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 ex⯑pedition; and he obtained from the Spaniſh [235] 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 pro⯑ceeded to an object of much greater import⯑ance; this was the ſecuring the dependency of the Iriſh parliament on that of Great Bri⯑tain. 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 Ire⯑land to put Mr. Anneſley in poſſeſſion of the [236] 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 parlia⯑ment of Ireland; and at the ſame time or⯑dered 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 con⯑duct by ſome marks of his favour. To com⯑plete 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 demon⯑ſtrated, that the Iriſh lords had always ex⯑erted their power of finally deciding cauſes. Notwithſtanding all oppoſition the bill was carried by a great majority, and ſoon after re⯑ceived the royal aſſent. The people of Ire⯑land were not at that time ſo well acquainted with their rights and juſt privileges as they [237] are at preſent. Their lords then were moſtly made up of men bred up in luxury and igno⯑rance; neither ſpirited enough to make oppo⯑ſition, 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 coin⯑age of half-pence by one Wood, in England, for the people of that country, which was no grievance, was attended with very great diſ⯑turbances. 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 ſpi⯑rit 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 [238] thouſands. To explain this as conciſely as poſſible, it is to be obſerved, that ever ſince the Revolution under king William, the go⯑vernment not having ſufficient ſupplies granted by parliament, or what was granted requiring time to be collected, they were obliged to bor⯑row 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 govern⯑ment was indebted, and paid ſuch large yearly intereſt, Sir Robert Walpole conceived a de⯑ſign of leſſening theſe national debts, by giv⯑ing 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 parti⯑cular having made up their debt to the go⯑vernment, ten millions; inſtead of ſix hun⯑dred thouſand pounds, which they uſually re⯑ceived as intereſt, were ſatisfied with five hun⯑dred thouſand. In the ſame manner the go⯑vernors [239] and company of the bank, and other companies, were contented to receive a dimi⯑niſhed 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 plauſi⯑bility requiſite for ſuch an undertaking, pro⯑poſed 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 advan⯑tageous. The South-ſea company was to re⯑deem 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 [240] 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 com⯑merce immenſe advantages were promiſed, and ſtill greater expected by the rapacious credu⯑lity of the people. All people, therefore, who were creditors to government, were in⯑vited to come in, and exchange their ſecuri⯑ties, namely, the government for the South-ſea company. Many were the advantages they were taught to expect from having their mo⯑ney 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 na⯑tion was infected with a ſpirit of avaricious enterprize. The infatuation prevailed; the [241] 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 conſi⯑derable fortunes by the credulity of the pub⯑lic. It was one conſolation to the people to find the parliament ſharing the general indig⯑nation, 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 reſolu⯑tions were taken by parliament, and a bill was ſpeedily prepared for repairing the late ſuffer⯑ings, as far as the inſpection of the legiſlature could extend. Of the profits ariſing from the [242] South-ſea ſcheme, the ſum of ſeven millions was given back to the original proprietors; ſeveral additions were alſo made to their divi⯑dends, out of what was poſſeſſed by the com⯑pany 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 de⯑manding juſtice, and the whole nation ſeemed exaſperated to the higheſt degree. Public credit ſuſtained a terrible ſhock. Some prin⯑cipal 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 coun⯑ſels they were weak, divided, and wavering. The duke of Orleans, regent of France, is ſaid to be the firſt who gave the king informa⯑tion of a recent coinſpracy carried on by many perſons of the firſt diſtinction, joined by ſeve⯑ral malcontents of inferior quality. In con⯑ſequence of this a camp was immediately [243] formed in Hyde Park, and all military officers were ordered to repair to their reſpective ſta⯑tions. Lieutenant-general Macartney was diſ⯑patched 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 govern⯑ment, 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 ar⯑reſted and impriſoned. Of all theſe, how⯑ever, only the biſhop, and one Mr. Layer, a barriſter, felt the ſeverity of government, the proofs againſt the reſt amounting to no con⯑victive evidence.

A bill was brought into the houſe of com⯑mons, impeaching biſhop Atterbury, although he pleaded privilege as a peer. Though this met with ſome oppoſition in that houſe, yet it [244] was reſolved by a great majority in the houſe of commons that he ſhould be deprived of his dig⯑nity 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 ingenu⯑ity, 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 in⯑ſiſted 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 coun⯑tenanced, he ſaw nothing remaining for him and others, but to retire to their country houſes, and there, if poſſible, quietly to enjoy [245] their eſtates within their own families, ſince the moſt trifling correſpondence, or any inter⯑cepted 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, con⯑ſcious 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 ſe⯑curity. The biſhop's ſentence being confirm⯑ed, 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 [246] 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 Sache⯑verel 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 en⯑liſted men for the pretender's ſervice, of having endeavoured to ſtir up a rebellion, and he re⯑ceived ſentence of death. The circumſtances of this conſpiracy are not clearly known. It is ſaid, that the intention of the conſpirators was, by in⯑troducing a number of foreign officers and ſol⯑diers 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 ſe⯑curity of the nation were more deeply concern⯑ed. It had been uſual for the lords chancel⯑lors, [247] upon being appointed to their high of⯑fice, to nominate the maſters in chancery; a place of ſome value, and conſequently then pur⯑chaſed 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 ne⯑ceſſary to reſign the ſeals in the beginning; but ſoon after the king ordered the whole af⯑fair to be laid before the houſe of commons.

The commons taking the affair into con⯑deration, 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 miſ⯑demeanors.

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 [248] been uſually received by former lord chancel⯑lors, and reaſon told that ſuch receipts were contrary to ſtrict juſtice. Equity, therefore, prevailed above precedent; the earl was con⯑victed of fraudulent practices, and condemned to a fine of thirty thouſand pounds, with im⯑priſonment, 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. Com⯑merce 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 gra⯑tify the ſovereign with a continual round of [249] foreign treaties and alliances. It was natural for a king born and bred in Germany, where all ſovereignity is poſſeſſed upon ſuch preca⯑rious 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 ſub⯑ſidies to many different ſtates in Europe for the promiſe of their protection and aſſiſtance; but it moſt commonly happened, that the con⯑nexion was changed, or a variance enſued be⯑fore 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 Hano⯑ver, the treaty of Vienna, and the convention with Sweden and Heſſe-Caſſel. All theſe va⯑rious and expenſive negociations were mere political play-things; they amuſed for a while, and are ſince neglected, the preſent [250] 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 diffuſ⯑ed 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 al⯑ready broken; for the ſpirit of commerce was ſo eager, that no reſtrictions could bind it. Ad⯑miral Hoſier was ſent to South America to in⯑tercept 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 en⯑tirely 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 me⯑diation, and ſuch a reconciliation as treaties could procure was the conſequence; a tempo⯑rary reconciliation enſued, both ſides only watching the occaſion to renew hoſtilities with advantage.

[251]It was now two years ſince the king had viſited his electoral dominions of Hanover. He,A.D. 1727 there⯑fore, ſoon after the breaking up of the parlia⯑ment, prepared for a journey thither. Having appointed a regency in his abſence he embark⯑ed for Holland, and lay, upon his landing, at a little town called Voet. Next day he pro⯑ceeded 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 conti⯑nued 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 horſe⯑back, 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 inſen⯑ſible 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.

[252]Whatever was good or great in the reign of this monarch ought to be aſcribed chiefly to him⯑ſelf; 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 acci⯑dent, and more to prudent aſſiduity. His ſuc⯑ceſſes 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 con⯑veyed to Hanover, and interred among his anceſtors.

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 [254] 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 cu⯑rioſity 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 ſtrong⯑ly 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 abili⯑ties, 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 Wal⯑pole, whom we have already ſeen ſo actively employed in ſupporting the houſe of Hanover.

This gentleman had riſen from low begin⯑nings, through two ſucceſſive reigns into great [255] 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 trea⯑ſury, 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 pre⯑tended 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.

[256]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 her⯑ſelf, 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 continent⯑al connexions. They complained that immenſe ſums were laviſhed on ſubſidies which could ne⯑ver be uſeful; and that alliances were bought with money from nations that ſhould rather con⯑tribute to England for her protection. Theſe looked upon the frequent journies of the king [257] 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 re⯑proach of Jacobitiſm, they gave and acquired greater confidence. As the court party ge⯑nerally alarmed the houſe of commons with imaginary dangers and concealed conſpiracies; ſo they, on the country ſide, generally de⯑claimed againſt the encroachments of the pre⯑rogative, and the overgrown power of the crown. The complaints of neither were found⯑ed in fact, the kingdom was in no danger of in⯑vaſions 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 pro⯑bably loved more.

There ſeem to be two objects of controver⯑ſy which, during this whole reign, roſe up in debate at every ſeſſion, and tried the ſtrength [258] 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 pre⯑ſent king, owed more than thirty millions of money; and though there was a long conti⯑nuance 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 en⯑ſuing. Thus demands for new ſupplies were made every ſeſſion of parliament, either for the purpoſes of ſecuring friends upon the con⯑tinent, of guarding the kingdom from internal conſpiracies, or of enabling the miniſtry to act vigorouſly in conjunction with the powers in al⯑liance 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 victo⯑rious, and every demand granted with chear⯑fulneſs and profuſion.

[259]The Spaniards were the firſt nation who ſhewed the futility of treaties to bind, when any advantage was to be procured by in⯑fraction. The extreme avidity of our mer⯑chants, 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 ſub⯑jects of Spain upon the continent, but when⯑ever detected were rigorouſly puniſhed, and their cargoes confiſcated to the crown. In this teme⯑rity 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 com⯑plaints became more general, and the mer⯑chants remonſtrated, by petition, to the houſe [260] 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 Spa⯑niards 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 in⯑dulge; new negociations were ſet on foot, and new mediators offered their interpoſition. A treaty was ſigned at Vienna, between the em⯑peror, 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, [261] and quartered in the dutchy of Tuſcany, to ſe⯑cure 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 inter⯑vals, 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, no⯑thing remarkable happened; and ſcarce any conteſt enſued, except in the Britiſh parlia⯑ment, where the diſputes between the court and country party were carried on with un⯑ceaſing animoſity. Both ſides, from moderate beginnings, at laſt fairly liſted themſelves in the cauſe, not of truth, but of party. Mea⯑ſures 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 diſ⯑cuſſed. He now ſmiles at theſe denunciations of ſlavery and of ruin, which were entailed up⯑on poſterity, and which poſterity did not feel. The truth is, the liberty of a nation is rather [262] 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 ſlight⯑eſt occurence comes in to fill up the chaſm in hiſtory. A ſociety of men in this intereſted age of ſeeming benevolence,A.D. 1731 had united them⯑ſelves 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 per⯑ſons of higher rank upon proper ſecurity. Their capital was at firſt limited to thirty thou⯑ſand pounds, but they afterwards encreaſed it to ſix hundred thouſand. This money was ſup⯑plied by ſubſcription, and the care of conduct⯑ing 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 ware⯑houſe 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 diſ⯑cover. They, therefore, in a petition, repre⯑ſented to the houſe the manner in which they had been defrauded, and the diſtreſs to which [263] many of the petitioners were reduced. A ſe⯑cret committee being appointed to examine in⯑to 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 em⯑bezzling the capital and cheating the proprie⯑tors. 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 Ar⯑chibald Grant, and George Robinſon, for their frauds in the management of the charitable corporation ſcheme; Dennis Bond, and Ser⯑jeant 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 pe⯑culation. It was aſſerted in the houſe of lords, at that time, that not one ſhilling of the forfeited eſtates was ever applied to the ſer⯑vice of the public, but became the reward of fraudulence and venality.

[264]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, notwith⯑ſtanding the profuſion of the rich, pinched the lower orders of mankind. Their mutual af⯑fection 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 bor⯑rowing the aids of reaſon for its vindication.

[265]A ſcheme ſet on foot by Sir Robert Wal⯑pole 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 hard⯑ſhips 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 ex⯑ciſemen and warehouſe-keepers would thus be employed, which would at once render the mi⯑niſtry 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 [266] diſadvantages, the tax upon tobacco would thus be more ſafely and expeditiouſly col⯑lected, and the avenues to numberleſs frauds would be ſhut up. The people, however, were raiſed into ſuch a ferment, that the par⯑liament 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 Lon⯑don.

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 par⯑liament. ‘"Let us ſuppoſe a man, ſaid Sir William Wyndham, of no great family, [267] 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 con⯑duct, or relieve the nation, fruitleſs. Sup⯑poſe him ſcreened by a corrupt majority of his creatures, whom he retains in daily pay. Let us ſuppoſe him domineering with inſo⯑lence 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 ſup⯑poſe a caſe, which I hope will never hap⯑pen, a prince upon the throne uninformed, ignorant, and unacquainted with the incli⯑nations and true intereſts of his people; weak, capricious, tranſported with un⯑bounded ambition, and poſſeſſed with inſa⯑tiable avarice. I hope ſuch a caſe will ne⯑ver occur; but as it poſſibly may, could any greater curſe happen to a nation than ſuch a prince adviſed by ſuch a miniſter, [268] and that miniſter ſupported by ſuch a par⯑liament? 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 ex⯑iſtence of ſuch a parliament may ſurely be prevented, and abridging its continuance is at leaſt a certain remedy."’ Notwithſtand⯑ing 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 pro⯑clamation.A.D. 1734

The leaders of both parties in the new par⯑liament were preciſely the ſame as in the pre⯑ceding, 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 in⯑troduced [269] 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 find⯑ing moſt money was to be got by chiming in with the national humour, thought that expoſ⯑ing 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 ſe⯑verity, and the repreſentation was crowded for ſeveral nights running, and Fielding be⯑gan to congratulate himſelf upon his dexterity, in diſcarding wit from the ſtage, and ſubſti⯑tuting 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 [270] 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 deter⯑mined 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 de⯑claimed [271] againſt it as a ſacrifice of the intereſts of Great Britain to the court of Spain, and al⯑ledged 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 vehe⯑mence. 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 op⯑poſing their deſigns. The miniſtry on this oc⯑caſion were as uſual victorious; and the coun⯑try party finding themſelves out-voted in every debate, reſolved to withdraw for ever. They had long aſſerted that all deliberation was uſe⯑leſs, and debate vain, ſince every member had liſted himſelf not under the banners of rea⯑ſon, but of party. Deſpairing, therefore, of being able to oppoſe with any hopes of con⯑viction, 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 com⯑mons.

The miniſter being now left without oppo⯑ſition, was reſolved to give his opponents the the moſt ſenſible mortification, by an alteration in his conduct. He took this opportunity to [272] render them odious, or contemptible, by paſſ⯑ing ſeveral uſeful laws in their abſence. At the ſame time the king himſelf laboured with equal aſſiduity at his favourite object of ad⯑juſting the political ſcale of Europe. For this purpoſe, he made ſeveral journies to the con⯑tinent; 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 preg⯑nancy 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 [273] conſequence, the prince retired to Kew. This rupture was very favourable to the country intereſt, as they thus had a conſiderable per⯑ſonage equally intereſted with themſelves to oppoſe the miniſtry. To the prince, there⯑fore, reſorted all thoſe who formed future ex⯑pectations 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 diſtreſſ⯑ed 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 trea⯑ty, of cutting log-wood in the bay of Cam⯑peachy, 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 aſcer⯑tained; 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 Eng⯑liſh; 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 [275] thoſe who might ſend them redreſs. One re⯑monſtrance followed another to the court of Madrid of this violation of treaty; but the only anſwer given were promiſes of en⯑quiry, 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 con⯑tinued to ſeize not only all the guilty, but the innocent, whom they found ſailing along the Spaniſh main. At laſt, however, the com⯑plaints 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 con⯑dition for war. Soon after letters of repriſal were granted againſt the Spaniards, and this [276] 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 mini⯑ſter 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 reverſ⯑ed. 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 firm⯑eſt treaties, where there is no ſuperior power to compel the obſervance.

A rupture between England and Spain be⯑ing 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.A.D. 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. [277] He had aſſerted in the houſe of Commons that Porto Belo, a fort and harbour in South Ame⯑rica, 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 mi⯑niſtry; 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 pane⯑gyric, and the triumph was far ſuperior to the value of the conqueſt.

As the war began thus ſucceſsfully, it inſpir⯑ed the commons to proſecute it with all ima⯑ginable 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 king⯑dom, the domeſtic debates and factions ſeemed to ſubſide; and indeed it ſeems to have been [278] 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 chan⯑nel, 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 or⯑ders 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 com⯑modore 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 com⯑modore ſet out with five ſhips of the line, a frigate, and two ſtore-ſhips, with about four⯑teen [279] 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 tem⯑peſtuous 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 dark⯑neſs, ſufficed to fill the whole town with terror and confuſion. The governor of the garri⯑ſon, and the inhabitants, fled on all ſides; ac⯑cuſtomed to be ſevere, they expected ſeverity. In the mean time, a ſmall body of the Eng⯑liſh kept poſſeſſion of the town for three days, ſtripping it of all its treaſures and merchan⯑diſe to a conſiderable amount, and then ſetting it on fire.

[280]Soon after this ſmall ſquadron advanced as far as Panama, ſituated on the iſthmus of Da⯑rien, on the weſtern ſide of the great Ameri⯑can 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 diffi⯑culties. Having accordingly taken ſome Dutch [281] 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 merchan⯑diſe. 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 amaz⯑ing 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 amaz⯑ing activity. When Anſon ſet out it was with a deſign of acting a ſubordinate part to a for⯑midable armament deſigned for the coaſts of New Spain, conſiſting of twenty-nine ſhips of the line, and almoſt an equal number of fri⯑gates, furniſhed with all kinds of warlike ſtores, near fifteen thouſand ſeamen, and as [282] many land-forces. Never was a fleet more completely equipped, nor never had the nation more ſanguine hopes of ſucceſs. Lord Cath⯑cart was appointed to command the land⯑forces; but he dying on the paſſage, the com⯑mand 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. Hav⯑ing 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.

[283]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 engineer⯑ing. 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 har⯑bour, 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 poſſeſſ⯑ed of courage, they might have defended with ſucceſs. The troops, upon gaining this ad⯑vantage, 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 no⯑thing 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. No⯑thing [284] could be more unfortunate than this un⯑dertaking; the forces marching up to the at⯑tack, 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 im⯑poſſible 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 enter⯑prize, 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, there⯑fore, at laſt could be brought to agree in one [285] 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 ſuf⯑ficiently unhealthy, was conſidered as a para⯑diſe to that from which they had juſt eſcaped. This fatal miſcarriage, which tarniſhed the Britiſh glory, was no ſooner known in Eng⯑land, than the kingdom was filled with mur⯑murs 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 Nor⯑ris had twice ſailed to the coaſts of Spain, at the head of a very powerful ſquadron, without tak⯑ing any effectual ſtep to annoy the enemy. The Spaniſh privateers, become numerous and en⯑terprizing, annoyed commerce with great ſuc⯑ceſs, having taken ſince the commencement of the war, four hundred and ſeven ſhips be⯑longing to the ſubjects of Great Britain. The [286] Engliſh though at an immenſe expence in equipping fleets, ſeemed to lie down unre⯑venged under every blow, and ſuffered one loſs after another without repriſal. This uni⯑verſal diſcontent had a manifeſt influence upon the general election which followed ſoon after; A.D. 1741 and the complaints againſt the miniſter be⯑came 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 main⯑tained in all parts of the kingdom; and ſuch a national ſpirit prevailed, that the country intereſt now at laſt ſeemed ready to prepon⯑derate.

In this ſituation, the miniſter finding the ſtrength of the houſe of commons turned a⯑gainſt him, tried every art to break that con⯑federacy, which he knew he had not ſtrength to oppoſe. His firſt attempt was by endea⯑vouring to diſengage the prince from his party, by promiſes of royal favour, and other emolu⯑ments. The biſhop of Oxford was according⯑ly 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 [287] revenue, two hundred thouſand ſhould be granted him to pay his debts, and ſuitable pro⯑viſion 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 gener⯑ouſly diſdained it, declaring he would accept of no conditions dictated to him under the in⯑fluence of a miniſter, whoſe meaſures he diſap⯑proved.

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 Weſt⯑minſter, [288] complaining of an undue election, which had been carried on by the unjuſt in⯑fluence of the miniſtry, and which they begged to ſet aſide, was preſented to the houſe. Sir Ro⯑bert 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 mor⯑tification to ſee the majority againſt him aug⯑mented 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 Or⯑ford, and reſigned all his employments.

Nothing could give the people more gene⯑ral 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 tra⯑gical 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 un⯑aminous in every popular meaſure. But they [289] 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 occa⯑ſion. 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 like⯑wiſe appointed a lord of the treaſury. Lord Harrington was declared preſident of the coun⯑cil; and in his room lord Carteret became ſecre⯑tary of ſtate. Mr. Pulteney was ſworn of the privy-council, and afterwards created earl of Bath. The reconciliation between the king [290] 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 employ⯑ments. 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 declaim⯑ed 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 illuſtri⯑ous 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 ambi⯑tion. The king, however, treated him with that neglect which he merited; he was laid aſide for life, and continued a wretched ſurvi⯑vor of all his former importance.

The war with Spain had now continued for ſe⯑veral years, and was attended with but indiffer⯑ent fortune. Some unſucceſsful expeditions had been carried on in the Weſt-Indies, under ad⯑miral Vernon, commodore Knowles, and others; and the failure of theſe was ſtill more aggra⯑vated [291] 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, em⯑barraſſed every operation, and embittered every misfortune. Theſe had for ſome time diſguſt⯑ed 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 no⯑thing 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 under⯑taking, 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 ſecon⯑dary 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 vi⯑gour.

During the long interval of peace, which this miniſter's councils had procured for Eu⯑rope, two powers, till now unregarded, began to attract the notice and jealouſy of the neigh⯑bouring [293] nations. Peter the Great had already civilized Ruſſia, and this new created exten⯑ſive 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 en⯑joy a profound peace, until the death of Au⯑guſtus, 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 [294] 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 re⯑ceived 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 eſ⯑caped with ſome difficulty by night; and fifteen hundred men, that were ſent to his aſſiſtance, were made priſoners of war. France, how⯑ever, reſolved to continue her aſſiſtance to him, and this it was ſuppoſed would be moſt ef⯑fectually 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 Mon⯑temar, the general of Spain, was equally vic⯑torious 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 attempt⯑ed to give a king to Poland.

[295]Theſe rapid ſucceſſes of France and its al⯑lies, 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 op⯑portunity 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 illuſ⯑trious line of emperors, ſaw herſelf ſtripped of her inheritance, and left for a whole year de⯑ſerted 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 op⯑portunity of her defenceleſs ſtate to renew his ancient pretenſions to that province, of which it muſt be owned his anceſtors had been un⯑juſtly [296] deprived. France, Saxony, and Bava⯑ria, attacked the reſt of her dominions; Eng⯑land 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 Bri⯑tain 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 pur⯑ſuing 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 cer⯑tain of obtaining; and deſired to engage in meaſures which muſt be injurious to the na⯑tion, even though attended with deſired ſuc⯑ceſs.

When the parliament met, his majeſty be⯑gan by informing them of his ſtrict adherence to engagements; and that he had ſent a body [297] of Engliſh forces into the Netherlands, which he had augmented by ſixteen thouſand Ha⯑noverians, to make a diverſion upon the do⯑minions of France, in the queen of Hungary's favour. When the ſupplies came to be con⯑ſidered, by which this additional number of Hanoverian troops was to be paid by Eng⯑land for defending their own cauſe, it produ⯑ced moſt violent debates in both houſes of par⯑liament. 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 continen⯑tal meaſures might injure the real intereſts of the nation, they for that time ſerved to retrieve the queen of Hungary's deſperate affairs. She [298] ſoon began to turn the ſcale of victory on her ſide. The French were driven out of Bo⯑hemia. 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 aban⯑doned 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 ene⯑mies 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, command⯑ed 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,A.D. 1743 who poſted his troops upon the eaſt ſide of that river. The Bri⯑tiſh forces, to the number of forty thou⯑ſand, [299] 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 Heſ⯑ſians, 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 morti⯑fying proſpects; if he fought the enemy, it muſt be at the greateſt diſadvantage; if he continued inactive, there was a certainty of be⯑ing 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 Eng⯑liſh foot with great fury. They were re⯑ceived, however, with intrepidity and reſo⯑lution; ſo that they were obliged to give way, and repaſs the Mayne with precipi⯑tation, with the loſs of about five thouſand [300] men. The king of England, with great per⯑ſonal 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 vic⯑tory. He was unwilling to ſhare any glory, which was ſo precariouſly obtained, and ſnatch⯑ed rather from the enemies miſtake, than gain⯑ed by his conduct. He therefore ſollicited for leave to reſign, which obtaining, the troops were led into quarters, and deſiſted from far⯑ther 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 ſuc⯑ceeded him in power, was a man of a very dif⯑ferent [301] character from his predeceſſor; being proud, turbulent, and enterpriſing. France, from the violence of the parliamentary diſ⯑putes 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 adven⯑turers, who wiſhed for a revolution, ſome men of broken fortunes, and all the Roman catho⯑lics 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, de⯑parted from Rome in the diſguiſe of a Spa⯑niſh courier, for Paris, where he had an au⯑dience 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 a⯑mounted to fifteen thouſand men, preparations were made for embarking them at Dunkirk, and ſome of the neareſt ports to England, un⯑der the eye of the young pretender. The duke de Roquefuille, with twenty ſhips of the line, was to ſee them ſafely landed in Eng⯑land, and the famous count Saxe was to com⯑mand [302] them, when put on ſhore. But the whole project was diſconcerted by the appear⯑ance 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 fru⯑ſtrated in their ſcheme of a ſudden deſcent, thought fit openly to declare war.

But though fortune ſeemed to favour Eng⯑land 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 con⯑ducted by Leſtock; but admiral Matthews, though a younger officer, was ſent out to take the ſuperior command, which produced a miſ⯑underſtanding between the commanders. There was ſoon an opportunity offered for theſe of⯑ficers 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 engag⯑ing. It happened that his ſignals were not [303] perfectly exact; he had hung out that for form⯑ing 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 ef⯑forts 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 or⯑der. Captain Cornwall was killed in the en⯑gagement, 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 da⯑mage 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 ſerv⯑ing [304] 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 in⯑trepidity. 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.

[305]The French, therefore, bore down all before them. They beſieged Fribourg, and in the be⯑ginning of the ſucceeding campaign inveſted the ſtrong city of Tournay. Altho' the allies were inferior in number, and although com⯑manded by the duke of Cumberland, yet they reſolved, if poſſible, to ſave this city by ha⯑zarding a battle. They accordingly marched againſt the enemy, and took poſt in ſight of the French, who were encamped on an emi⯑nence, the village of St. Antoine on the right, a wood on the left, and the town of Fonte⯑noy before them. This advantageous ſituation did not repreſs the ardour of the Engliſh, who began the attack at two o'clock in the morn⯑ing, and preſſing forward bore down all oppo⯑ſition. 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 attend⯑ants 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 [306] then that the French artillery on three ſides began to play upon this forlorn body, which, though they continued for a long time un⯑ſhaken, 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 num⯑ber of ſlain.

This blow, by which Tournay was taken by the French, gave them ſuch a manifeſt ſu⯑periority 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 ori⯑ginal cauſe of the war, that by no means was diſcontinued at his deceaſe. The grand duke of Tuſcany, huſband to the queen of Hun⯑gary, 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 [307] 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 inva⯑ſion had rouzed all the attention of the people, and nothing breathed throughout the whole kingdom but the deſtruction of a popiſh pre⯑tender, 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. Pel⯑ham, 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 Ame⯑rica, [308] 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 par⯑taking 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, accom⯑panied 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 [309] 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 he⯑reditary juriſdiction. By means of theſe chiefs he ſoon ſaw himſelf at the head of fifteen hun⯑dred 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 pu⯑filanimous, 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 confirm⯑ed in the account of his arrival, which at firſt they could be ſcarcely induced to credit, than [310] Sir John Cope was ſent with a ſmall body of forces to oppoſe his progreſs.

By this time the young adventurer was ar⯑rived 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 Edin⯑burgh, 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 [311] 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 mo⯑narch. By this time his train was compoſ⯑ed of the earl of Kilmarnock, a man of deſ⯑perate fortune, who had lately become diſ⯑contented 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 en⯑creaſed his army. Lord Lovat himſelf was an enthuſiaſt in the cauſe; but being without prin⯑ciples, 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 [312] then offered his ſervice to the old pretender in France, and it was accepted. He next betray⯑ed the forces which were ſent to his aſſiſtance to queen Anne. He a ſecond time invited the pre⯑tender 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 nei⯑ther 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, un⯑der 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 diſ⯑ciplined, and enured to action. Beſides theſe, volunteers offered in every part of the king⯑dom; [313] and every county exerted a vigorous ſpirit of indignation both againſt the ambition, the religion, and the allies of the young pre⯑tender.

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 king⯑dom, 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 con⯑ſultations with his officers, come to a reſolution of making an irrruption into England, he en⯑tered the country by the weſtern border, and inveſted Carliſle, which ſurrendered in leſs than three days. He there found a conſider⯑able quantity of arms, and there too he pro⯑cured 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 pene⯑trate [314] farther into the kingdom, having receiv⯑ed aſſurances from France that a conſiderable body of troops would be landed on the ſouth⯑ern coaſts, to make a diverſion in his favour. He was flattered alſo with the hopes of being joined by a conſiderable number of malcon⯑tents, 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 head⯑quarters.

He was there joined by about two hundred Engliſh, who were formed into a regiment, un⯑der the command of colonel Townly. From thence he purſued his march to Derby, intend⯑ing 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 expe⯑dition which he had hitherto uſed, he might have made himſelf maſter of the metropolis, [315] 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 practi⯑tioners of the law agreed to take the field, with the judges at their head; and even the mana⯑gers of the theatres offered to raiſe a body of their dependents for the ſervice of their coun⯑try. 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 High⯑land 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 Scot⯑land. In theſe marches, however, they pre⯑ſerved [316] all the rules of war; they abſtained in a great meaſure from plunder, they levied con⯑tributions on the towns as they paſſed along, and with unaccountable precaution left a gar⯑riſon 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 ab⯑ſence. 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 af⯑fairs 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 Haw⯑ley, who commanded a conſiderable body of forces near Edinburgh, undertook to raiſe the ſiege, and advanced towards the rebel army as [317] far as Falkirk. After two days ſpent in mu⯑tually 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 re⯑tired in confuſion to Edinburgh, leaving the conquerors in poſſeſſion of their tents, their ar⯑tillery, and the field of battle.

Thus far the affairs of the rebel army ſeem⯑ed not unproſperous; but here was an end of all their triumphs. The duke of Cumber⯑land, at that time the favourite of the Engliſh army, had been recalled from Flanders, and put himſelf at the head of the troops at Edin⯑burgh, which conſiſted of about fourteen thou⯑ſand men. With theſe he advanced to Aber⯑deen, where he was joined by ſeveral of the Scotch nobility, attached to the houſe of Ha⯑nover; and having revived the drooping ſpi⯑rits of his army, he reſolved to find out the enemy, who retreated at his approach. After having refreſhed his troops at Aberdeen, for [318] 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 con⯑duct, and without unanimity. After a variety of conteſts among each other, they reſolved to await their purſuers upon the plains of Cullo⯑den, a place about nine miles diſtant from In⯑verneſs, 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, ſup⯑plied 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 mea⯑ſures, 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 be⯑came [319] 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 diſ⯑ordered by this onſet, two battalions ad⯑vanced 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 in⯑active 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 re⯑luctance to retire. Civil war is in itſelf terri⯑ble, but more ſo when heightened by unne⯑ceſſary 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 [320] reſpect deciſive, and humanity to the conquer⯑ed 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 conquer⯑ors ſpread terror wherever they came; and af⯑ter a ſhort ſpace, the whole country round was one dreadful ſcene of plunder, ſlaughter, and deſolation; juſtice was forgotten, and ven⯑geance 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 [321] alighted, and ſeparately ſought for ſafety. He for ſome days wandered in this country, na⯑turally wild, but now rendered more formid⯑able 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 ſome⯑times found refuge in caves and cottages, with⯑out attendants, and dependent on the wretch⯑ed 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 fideli⯑ty of above fifty individuals, whoſe venera⯑tion for his family prevailed above their ava⯑rice.

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 op⯑poſite [322] 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 pre⯑ſent, 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 cover⯑ing; 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 aſſiſt⯑ed him as far as he was able, and never di⯑vulged 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 [323] 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 Lo⯑chiel, 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 ar⯑rived 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 re⯑port 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 num⯑ber of the common men were tranſported to the plantations in North America.

[324]The earls of Kilmarnock and Cromartie, and the lord Balmerino, were tried by their peers, and found guilty. Cromartie was par⯑doned, 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 con⯑viction, 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 end⯑ed the laſt effort of the family of the Stuarts for re-aſcending the throne; dictated by youth and preſumption, and conducted with⯑out art or reſolution.

[325]Immediately after the rebellion was ſup⯑preſſed, and the tumult of terror and tranſport was ſubſided, the legiſlature undertook to eſta⯑bliſh ſeveral regulations in Scotland, which were equally conducive to the happineſs of that peo⯑ple, and the tranquility of the united king⯑dom. 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 com⯑pelled 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 to⯑tally 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 [326] 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 de⯑fenceleſs, and ready to receive the terms of their conquerors; their national bravery be⯑ing quite ſuffocated in the ſpirit of traffic and luxury.

The Dutch were at this time divided by fac⯑tions which ſtill ſubſiſted, and had continued for above a century in their republic. The one declared for the prince of Orange and a ſtadt⯑holder, the other oppoſed this election, and de⯑ſired 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 repub⯑lic to a kind of limited monarchy; if, on the contrary, the oppoſite party prevailed, the people muſt ſubmit to the weight of a con⯑firmed ariſtocracy ſupported by French power, and liable to its control. Of the two evils they choſe the former; the people in ſeveral [327] towns, inflamed almoſt to ſedition, compelled their magiſtrates to declare the prince of Orange ſtadtholder, captain-general, and ad⯑miral of the United Provinces. The vigo⯑rous conſequences of this reſolution immedi⯑ately appeared. All commerce with the French was prohibited; the Dutch army was aug⯑mented, and orders were iſſued to commence hoſtilities againſt the French by ſea and land. Thus the war, which had begun but in a ſin⯑gle country, was now diffuſed over all Eu⯑rope; and like a diſorder prevailed in differ⯑ent 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 ambi⯑tious power of France. Italy felt all the ter⯑rors 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 Imperial⯑iſts 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 un⯑ſucceſsful [328] 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 vic⯑tory, which they obtained at La Feldt, ſerved to depreſs the allied army ſtill lower. But the taking of Bergen-op-zoom, the ſtrongeſt forti⯑fication of Dutch Brabant, reduced the Dutch to a ſtate of deſperation. However, theſe victories gained by the French were counter⯑balanced with almoſt equal diſappointments. In Italy the marſhal Belliſle's brother, attempt⯑ing 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, com⯑modore Fox, with ſix ſhips of war, took above forty French ſhips richly laden from St. Do⯑mingo; and this loſs was ſoon after followed [329] by another defeat, which the French fleet ſuſ⯑tained 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 endeavour⯑ed 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 vic⯑tory 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 particu⯑lar finding themſelves unable to manage a [330] 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 con⯑queſts 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 con⯑queſts 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 fortifica⯑tions of Dunkirk to the ſea ſhould be demo⯑liſhed; that the Engliſh ſhip annually ſent [331] 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 con⯑quered; 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 Bri⯑tain ſhould immediately, after the ratification of this treaty, ſend two perſons of rank and diſtinction to France as hoſtages, until reſti⯑tution 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 Ameri⯑can ſeas, upon which the war was originally begun. The limits of their reſpective poſſeſ⯑ſions 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 [332] of Utrecht was branded with univerſal con⯑tempt, 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, pro⯑perly ſpeaking, but a temporary truce; a ceſſation from hoſtilities, which both ſides were unable to continue. Though the war between Eng⯑land 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 offend⯑ing, 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 pro⯑miſing 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 fire⯑work was played off; and the ſpectators could never be brought to think that a bad treaty, which was celebrated with ſuch magnificent profuſion.

[334]It muſt be confeſſed alſo there was ſome de⯑ſire ſhewn in the miniſtry to promote the com⯑merce of the kingdom; and for this purpoſe a bill was paſſed for encouraging a Britiſh her⯑ring 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 ex⯑pected. The Dutch, who had long enjoyed the ſole profits ariſing from this article, con⯑ſidered 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. Cer⯑tain it is that experience has ſhewn this at⯑tempt to rival the Dutch to have been ineffec⯑tual. Perhaps the company was not eſtabliſh⯑ed 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 [335] obliging the lenders to receive the ſums origi⯑nally 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 origi⯑nally granted his money upon different terms, and under a promiſe of continuing intereſt. However, the meaſure was evidently benefi⯑cial to the nation; and experience has ſhewn that it no way affected the public credit. Be⯑ſide this ſalutary meaſure others were purſued for the intereſt of the nation with equal ſuc⯑ceſs. 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 ſuffi⯑cient to counterbalance the ſtroke which li⯑berty received, as ſome are of opinion, by an [336] 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 com⯑mons, 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 gentle⯑man, 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 pro⯑pagated abuſe as uſual. At length the pole being cloſed, the majority appeared to be in favour of lord Trentham; but a ſcrutiny be⯑ing demanded by the other party, it was pro⯑tracted by management on the one ſide, and tumult on the other. After ſome time the ſcrutiny alſo appeared in favour of lord Trent⯑ham, [337] 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 atten⯑tion; but proceeded to examine the high-bai⯑liff 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. Mur⯑ray 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 com⯑mitted a cloſe priſoner to Newgate, and that he ſhould receive this ſentence at the bar of the houſe upon his knees. When he was con⯑ducted 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 com⯑mitted [338] to Newgate, denied the uſe of pen, ink, and paper, and that no perſon ſhould have ac⯑ceſs 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 con⯑tinue no longer than while the commons con⯑tinued 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 ab⯑ſconding; but the people could not help conſidering their repreſentatives rather as their oppreſſors, and the houſe as aſſerting rather vindictive, than legiſlative autho⯑rity. Some thought they ſaw in this mea⯑ſure the ſeeds of a future ariſtocracy; that the commons erected themſelves into a tri⯑bunal, 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, [339] 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 be⯑fore 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 de⯑clared, that any marriage ſolemnized without this previous publication, or a licenſe obtain⯑ed 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 con⯑firmed [340] the truth of many of thoſe objections. Infamous men have made a practice of ſedu⯑cing 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 ano⯑ther act equally unpopular, and perhaps equally injurious to that religion which was ſtill left a⯑mong the populace. This was a law for natura⯑lizing 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 [341] an introduction of this people into the king⯑dom would diſgrace the character of the na⯑tion, and cool the zeal of the natives for re⯑ligion, 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 re⯑pealed the enſuing ſeſſion.

An act equally unpopular with the two for⯑mer was now alſo paſſed, which contained regu⯑lations 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 man⯑kind, 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, abridg⯑ed of the power of ſeizing game, never per⯑mitted it to come to maturity.

A ſcheme,A.D. 174 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 diſ⯑charged [342] the army or navy, to become ſettlers in a new colony in North America, in the pro⯑vince of Nova Scotia. To this retreat it was thought the waſte of an exuberant nation might well be drained off; and thoſe bold ſpi⯑rits 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 main⯑tained; it was cold, barren, and incapable of ſucceſsful cultivation. The new colony, there⯑fore, 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 Eng⯑liſh [343] 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 ſuſ⯑picions in the natives, and repreſented the Engliſh, and with regard to this colony the re⯑preſentation might be true, as enterprizing and ſevere. Commiſſaries were, therefore, appoint⯑ed 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 perſeve⯑rance, had rendered the ſoil, naturally barren, ſomewhat more fertile, and capable of ſuſtain⯑ing nature, with ſome aſſiſtance from Europe. This country, however, had frequently chan⯑ged 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 [344] 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 Eng⯑liſh 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 for⯑mer. 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 ſe⯑veral 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 [345] parts of that great continent, to hem the Eng⯑liſh 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 [346] 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, do⯑minion, 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 concur⯑rence 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 com⯑plained of theſe infractions, and theſe produc⯑ed only recrimination; the two powers were negociating, accuſing, and deſtroying each other at the ſame time. At length, the miniſtry [347] were reſolved to cut the knot, which they could not unlooſe, and to act at once in open defi⯑ance of the enemy. Orders were accordingly diſpatched to all the governors of the Ameri⯑can 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 circumſtan⯑ces of ſafety. This ſerved to alienate the af⯑fections of the Indians from the Engliſh go⯑vernment; 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 ſet⯑tlers, who were rich, frugal, and laborious, and whoſe ſpoils were therefore worth wiſhing for.

[348]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 gover⯑nors 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 ſkir⯑miſhes between their troops, and thoſe of the government of England. They had fought with general Lawrence to the North, and co⯑lonel 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 [349] to have imbibed a part of the ſavage fury of thoſe with whom they fought, and excerciſed various cruelties, either from a ſpirit of ava⯑rice or revenge.

The miniſtry, however, in England began now a very vigorous exertion in defence of thoſe colonies, who refuſed to defend them⯑ſelves. Four operations were undertaken in America at the ſame time. Of theſe,A.D. 175 one was commanded by colonel Monckton, who had orders to drive the French from the encroach⯑ments 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 con⯑duct of general Shirley, was deſtined to Niaga⯑ra, 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 ſucceſs⯑ful; 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, [350] 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, expect⯑ed 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 re⯑ſolution, leaving colonel Dunbar with eight hun⯑dred 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 Of⯑wego, 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 dan⯑ger. Being at length within ten miles of the fortreſs, he was appointed to beſiege, and [351] 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, there⯑fore, fell back in conſternation upon the main body, and the panic ſoon became general. The officers alone diſdained to fly, while Brad⯑dock himſelf ſtill continued to command his brave aſſociates, diſcovering at once the great⯑eſt intrepidity and the greateſt imprudence. An enthuſiaſt to the diſcipline of war, he diſ⯑dained to fly from the field, or to permit his men to quit their ranks when their only me⯑thod 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 en⯑ſued. All the artillery, ammunition, and bag⯑gage 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 join⯑ing [352] colonel Dunbar, returned by their former route, and arrived to ſpread the ge⯑neral 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 de⯑claration of war. With this order, the naval commanders very readily and willingly com⯑plied; 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 inti⯑midating England with the threats of a for⯑midable 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 em⯑barking and re-landing from flat-bottomed boats, which were made in great numbers for that expedition. The number of men deſtin⯑ed for this enterprize, amounted to fifty thou⯑ſand, but they diſcovered the utmoſt reluct⯑ance to the undertaking, and it was by de⯑grees that the French miniſtry hoped to pre⯑vail upon them to proceed. Every day they [354] were exerciſed with embarking and diſembark⯑ing, 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 ex⯑poſed without arms, leaders, or diſcipline, to the deſigns of their enemies, governed by a mi⯑niſtry 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 re⯑fuſed the ſupply, alledging that their treaty was to ſupply troops in caſe of an actual, and not a threatened invaſion. The king, there⯑fore, 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, a⯑mounting to about ten thouſand men, was to be purchaſed; and theſe the miniſtry brought [355] over into England to protect about as many millions of Engliſhmen, who were ſuppoſed in⯑capable of defending themſelves. But here the remedy appeared to the people worſe than the diſeaſe. The miniſtry was reviled for hav⯑ing reduced the nation to ſuch a diſgraceful condeſcenſion. The people conſidered them⯑ſelves as no way reduced to the neceſſity of borrowing ſuch feeble aid. They only de⯑manded a vigorous exertion of their own in⯑ternal 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 ex⯑pected no danger. The iſland of Minorca, which we had taken from the Spaniards in the reign of queen Anne, was ſecured to Eng⯑land 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 fortifica⯑tion of St. Philip's, which was reckoned one of [356] 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 ob⯑ſtinately defended on the ſide of the Engliſh.

The miniſtry being apprized of this unex⯑pected 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 or⯑dered to throw a body of troops into the garriſon; but this he thought too hazardous an undertaking; nor did he even make an at⯑tempt. While he was thus deliberating be⯑tween 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. [357] Byng had been long praiſed for his ſkill in na⯑val tactics; and, perhaps, valuing moſt thoſe talents for which he was moſt praiſed, he ſa⯑crificed all claims to courage to the applauſe for naval diſcipline. The French fleet ad⯑vanced, 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 con⯑duct. The miniſtry were not averſe to throw⯑ing from themſelves the blame of thoſe mea⯑ſures which were attended with ſuch indiffer⯑ent 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 [358] mean time Byng continued at Gibraltar, quite ſatisfied with his own conduct, and little ex⯑pecting 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 ad⯑judged him to ſuffer death by the twelfth ar⯑ticle 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 them⯑ſelves from conſcious ſeverity. The govern⯑ment was reſolved upon ſhewing him no mercy; [359] the parliament was applied to in his favour; but they found no circumſtances in his con⯑duct that could invalidate the former ſentence. Being thus abandoned to his fate, he main⯑tained to the laſt a degree of fortitude and ſe⯑renity, that no way betrayed any timidity or cowardice. On the day fixed for his execu⯑tion, 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 repre⯑ſenting that his looks would poſſibly intimi⯑date 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 ſe⯑cond their blow by an attack upon a country, [360] 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 ne⯑ceſſaries 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 Ger⯑many; a threat, which they ſecretly believed would ſoon compel the Engliſh miniſtry to ac⯑cept 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 hun⯑dred thouſand pounds annually, to be paid in advance.

[361]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 guar⯑dian of the intereſts of Germany, and was ſtartled at a treaty, which threatened to de⯑luge 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 pre⯑vent the deſigns of his enemies, while yet be⯑ginning, 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 em⯑pire, either as auxiliaries, or as principals. This conſummate politician had, it ſeems, been already apprized of a ſecret negociation be⯑tween 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 poli⯑tics; ſhe paid them a large ſubſidy for enter⯑ing the empire, which they had already deter⯑mined to perform without her commands.

The king of England, whoſe fears for Ha⯑nover guided all his counſels, now ſaw him⯑ſelf [362] in the ſituation he moſt dreaded. His na⯑tive dominions were now expoſed to the re⯑ſentment 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 ſe⯑curity; 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 pro⯑feſſed 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 pre⯑vent all foreign armies from entering the em⯑pire.

From this new alliance both powers hoped great advantages. Beſide preſerving the in⯑dependence 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 [363] againſt him. An alliance, therefore, with the court of London kept back the Ruſſians, whom he dreaded, and gave him hopes of pu⯑niſhing Auſtria, whom he long ſuſpected. As for France he counted upon that as a natural ally, which, from its long and hereditary en⯑mity with the Auſtrians, would ever continue ſtedfaſt in his intereſts. On the other ſide, the elector of Hanover had ſtill ſtronger ex⯑pectations 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 at⯑tached 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 de⯑ceived in every one of theſe expectations.

This alliance ſoon after gave birth to one of an oppoſite nature, that aſtoniſhed all Eu⯑rope. The queen of Hungary had long me⯑ditated 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 conceſ⯑ſion. Her chief hopes of aſſiſtance were from [364] Ruſſia; and ſhe expected the reſt of the pow⯑ers in queſtion would continue neuter. How⯑ever ſhe now found by the late treaty that all her hopes of Ruſſian aſſiſtance were fruſtrated, as England was joined with Pruſſia to counter⯑act her intentions. Thus deprived of one ally, ſhe ſought about, in order to ſubſtitute another. She applied to France for that pur⯑poſe; 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 trea⯑ſures. 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 in⯑vited 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 Swe⯑den alſo, was brought to accede by the in⯑trigues [365] 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 de⯑ſigns. 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 combina⯑tions, 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, [366] which were poſted in a ſtrong ſituation at Pir⯑na. 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 inten⯑tions of that court. To this demand he at firſt received an evaſive anſwer; but having ordered his miniſter to inſiſt upon an open re⯑ply, whether the Empreſs-queen was for peace or war, and whether ſhe had any intentions to attack him that or the next year, an ambi⯑guous anſwer was ſtill returned. He now, therefore, thought proper to ſuſpend all nego⯑ciations, 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, de⯑manded 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 hav⯑ing entered into a ſecret treaty with his ene⯑mies, 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 [367] 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 ex⯑pected, 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 diffi⯑culty 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 ſol⯑diers 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 ex⯑ceeded what hiſtory can ſhew, and that may be incredible to poſterity. King only of a very ſmall territory, and aſſiſted by an ally, whoſe [368] ſituation was too remote to give him any con⯑ſiderable 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 ſe⯑cond 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, ‘"For⯑tune, 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. Suc⯑ceſs often occaſions a deſtructive confi⯑dence. 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 for⯑tune ſhortly began to appear; and ſhe ſeemed totally to have turned her back upon him. One diſaſter followed upon the back of an⯑other. 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 begin⯑ning, ſenſible of the inſufficiency of his troops to face the enemy, by whom he was greatly out numbered. He was driven beyond the [369] 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 num⯑bers of the enemy would have the leaſt oppor⯑tunity of coming to a general action. How⯑ever, the weaker army was ſtill obliged to re⯑tire; 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 obli⯑ged to ſubmit peaceably to the French, who now were determined to turn upon the king of Pruſſia with undiminiſhed forces.

[370]The ſituation of this monarch was become deſperate, nor could human foreſight diſcover how he could extricate himſelf from his difficul⯑ties. 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 haſten⯑ed 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 de⯑fence, they obliged to ſurrender. Another army of the ſame power entered Luſatia, made themſelves maſter of Zittau, and, preſſing for⯑ward, laid the capital of Berlin under contribu⯑tion. 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 pene⯑trated from behind, and even while he was victorious, his territories were every day dimi⯑niſhing. The greateſt part of his dominions [371] was laid under contribution, moſt of his ſtrong⯑eſt 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, plan⯑ned 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 ob⯑ject of the enterprize a profound ſecret; and France was for ſome time filled with apprehen⯑ſions, 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 [372] from their conſternation, had leiſure to aſſem⯑ble, and there was the appearance of two camps upon ſhore. The commanders, therefore, who from the badneſs of the weather, were prevent⯑ed 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 in⯑duced 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 con⯑ſtancy as to be diſpirited by a ſmall reverſe [373] of fortune. Are our affairs ſo ruinous that they cannot be repaired? Conſider the ſtep you have made me undertake, and remem⯑ber 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 ſuc⯑ceſs 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 lend⯑ing aſſiſtance to the contending chiefs of the country, but the allies ſoon became the princi⯑pals 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 en⯑tered 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.

[375]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 misfor⯑tunes, 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 opera⯑tions, no longer under the name of auxiliaries, but as rivals in arms, in government, and in [376] commerce. What the motives to this infrac⯑tion 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 pri⯑ſoners of war, and were therefore the leſs vi⯑gorous 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 ſi⯑tuation of theſe unfortunate men, ſhut up in this narrow place, in the burning climate of the eaſt, and ſuffocating each other. Their [377] firſt efforts, upon perceiving the effects of their horrid confinement, were to break open the door of the priſon; but as it opened in⯑ward, 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 re⯑moving 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 pri⯑ſon 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 morn⯑ing, when the keepers came to viſit the pri⯑ſon, 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 Eng⯑liſh fleet under admiral Watſon, ſtill turned [378] the ſcale in their favour. Among the num⯑ber of thoſe who felt the power of the Eng⯑liſh 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 main⯑tained 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 re⯑ſolved to ſubdue ſuch a dangerous enemy, and attack him in his own fortreſs. In pur⯑ſuance of this reſolution, admiral Watſon and colonel Clive ſailed into his harbour of Ge⯑riah; and though they ſuſtained a warm fire as they entered, yet they ſoon threw all his ſleet into flames, and obliged his fort to ſur⯑render 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 be⯑ginning 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 re⯑ſolved to ſtand a regular ſiege. As ſoon as [379] 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 demo⯑liſhed to the ground.

Soon after theſe ſucceſſes, Hughly, a city of great trade, was reduced with as little diffi⯑culty as the former; and all the viceroy of Bengal's ſtore-houſes and granaries were de⯑ſtroyed. 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 reinforce⯑ment of men from the admiral's ſhips, ad⯑vanced with his little army to attack theſe nu⯑merous forces. He attacked the enemy in three columns; and though the numbers were ſo diſproportioned, victory ſoon declared in fa⯑vour of the Engliſh. This, as well as ſeveral other victories gained by this commander a⯑gainſt ſuch a numerous enemy, teach us no [380] 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 com⯑mander mounted on an elephant, and conſe⯑quently a more conſpicuous object of aim, their artillery drawn by oxen, impatient and furious on the ſlighteſt wound, every ſol⯑dier 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 circum⯑ſtances, 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.

[381]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 hav⯑ing private intimations of the deſign, they re⯑ſolved 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 vic⯑torious; 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 at⯑tachments 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 proclaim⯑ed 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 [382] throne (for the Mogul had long loſt all power in India) they took care to exact ſuch ſtipula⯑tions 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 ex⯑tremeſt wiſh; and that wealth which they had plundered from ſlaves in India, they were re⯑ſolved 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 com⯑pelled 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 ſecond⯑ed 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 [383] 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 rein⯑forcement under the command of general Lally, an Iriſhman, from whoſe great expe⯑rience 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 ſeem⯑ed to wear a face of ſucceſs. He took from the Engliſh their ſettlement of fort St. Da⯑vid's, and plundered the country of the king of Tanjour, in alliance with the enemy. He then entered the province of Arcot, and pre⯑pared for laying ſiege to Madraſs, the chief ſettlement of the Engliſh on the coaſt of Co⯑romandel. [384] In the ſiege of this important place, a greater variety of difficulties preſented than he had expected or prepared for. The artil⯑lery 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 at⯑tempted to lead on his men to a breach that had been practicable for ſeveral days, it con⯑tinued open for a fortnight, and not one dared to venture the aſſault. To add to his embar⯑raſſments, he was very ill ſupplied with provi⯑ſions, and he found the garriſon had received a reinforcement. Deſpairing, therefore, of ſuc⯑ceſs, 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 be⯑tween 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. [385] 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 re⯑plied, that he had no ſuch deſigns of a mono⯑poly as were imputed to him, and he only re⯑queſted 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 be⯑longing 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 com⯑plaints [386] 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 ſplen⯑did ſucceſs. The troops headed by colonel Coote, a native of Ireland, and poſſeſſed of prudence and bravery, marched againſt general [387] Lally, reſolved to come to a deciſive engage⯑ment. On his march he took the city of Wan⯑dewaſh, he afterwards reduced the fortreſs of Carangoly, and at length came up with the French general, who had no thoughts of de⯑clining the engagement. In the morning early the French advanced within three quarters of a mile of the Engliſh line, and the canno⯑nading began with great fury on both ſides. The engagement continued with great obſti⯑nacy 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 con⯑ſequence of this victory; and nothing now re⯑mained to the French, of all their former do⯑minions in India, but the ſtrong town of Pon⯑dicherry, their largeſt and moſt beautiful ſet⯑tlement. This city, which was the capital of the French eſtabliſhments in India, exceeded, in the days of its proſperity, all other Euro⯑pean factories there, in trade, opulence, and ſplendour; and whatever wealth the French ſtill poſſeſſed, after repeated loſſes, was de⯑poſited there. As ſoon as the fortreſſes adja⯑cent were reduced, colonel Coote ſat down be⯑fore [388] the city, determined to blockade it by land, while admiral Stevens ſhut up the har⯑bour 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 deter⯑termined 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 ſettle⯑ments, 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 en⯑tering the harbour, having repaired the damage he had lately ſuſtained. Lally, however, ſtill determined to hold out, and with a ſavage ob⯑ſtinacy [389] ſaw his troops half conſuming with fa⯑tigue and famine round him. At length, find⯑ing that a breach had been made in the ram⯑part, and that no more than one day's provi⯑ſion 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 up⯑on 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 [390] been hitherto directed by a miniſtry, but ill ſupported by the commons, becauſe not confided in by the people. They ſeemed ti⯑mid and wavering; and but feebly held toge⯑ther, rather by their fears than their mutual confidence. When any new meaſure was pro⯑poſed, which could not receive their approba⯑tion, or any new member was introduced into government whom they did not appoint, they conſidered it as an infringement upon their re⯑ſpective 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 govern⯑ment, 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 expecta⯑tions, and they were not deceived.

[391]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 peo⯑ple. 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 imcompati⯑ble 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 ambi⯑tion 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.

[392]The conſequences of the former ill conduct⯑ed counſels ſtill ſeemed to continue in Ameri⯑ca. The generals ſent over to manage the operations of the war, loudly accuſed the ti⯑midity and delays of the natives, whoſe duty it was to unite in their own defence. The na⯑tives, on the other hand, as warmly expoſtu⯑lated againſt the pride, avarice, and incapa⯑city 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 Lou⯑don; and this nobleman alſo ſoon after return⯑ing 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 poſ⯑ſeſſion of that iſland, that they began to per⯑ceive its advantageous ſituation; and the con⯑venience of its harbour for annoying the Bri⯑tiſh [393] trade with impunity. It was alſo a con⯑venient 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 de⯑fended, had been ſtrengthened by the aſſiſt⯑ance 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 capitu⯑lation. The fortifications were ſoon after de⯑moliſhed, and rendered unfit for future pro⯑tection.

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 at⯑tempted to penetrate into thoſe hideous wilds; by which nature had ſecured the French poſ⯑ſeſſions [394] 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 ene⯑my were thus perfectly prepared to give him a ſevere reception. As he approached Ticon⯑derago, 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 en⯑ſued; 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 with⯑drew 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 [395] taking of Fort du Queſne ſerved to remove from their colonies the terror of the incurſions of the Indians, while it interrupted that cor⯑reſpondence which ran along a chain of forts, with which the French had environed the Eng⯑liſh 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 follow⯑ing 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 domi⯑nions in America; while general Prideaux, and Sir William Johnſon, were to attempt a French fort, near the cataracts of Niagara.

[396]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 opera⯑tions 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 re⯑lieve it; but Johnſon attacked them with in⯑trepidity 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 ſplen⯑did 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; [397] and this was the taking of Quebec, the capital of Canada, a city handſomely built, populous, and flouriſhing. Admiral Saunders was appoin⯑ted to command the naval part of the expedi⯑tion; 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, with⯑out 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 aſ⯑ſociate 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 mi⯑nute 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 con⯑ſider the ſituation of the town on the ſide of a great river, the fortifications with which it was [398] 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 con⯑tinually 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 diffi⯑culty of the undertaking. After ſtating, in a letter to the miniſtry, the dangers that preſent⯑ed. ‘"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 on⯑ly where there is ſome hope of a favourable event. At preſent the difficulties are ſo va⯑rious, 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 pe⯑culiarly 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 [399] the ground ſuch as hardly to be ſurmounted in the day time. All theſe difficulties, how⯑ever, were ſurmounted by the conduct of the general, and the bravery of the men. Colonel Howe, with the light infantry and the High⯑landers, 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 en⯑counter quickly began. This was one of the moſt deſperate engagements during this war. The French general was ſlain; the ſe⯑cond in command ſhared the ſame fate. Ge⯑neral Wolfe was ſtationed on the right, where the attack was moſt warm; as he ſtood conſpi⯑cuous 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 [400] 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 advantage⯑ous. 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 conſe⯑quence 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 Col⯑vile, they were obliged to abandon the enter⯑prize. The whole province was ſoon after reduced by the prudence and activity of gene⯑ral Amherſt, who obliged the French army to capitulate, and it has ſince remained annexed to [401] 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 ſuc⯑ceeding 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 pro⯑duced 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-cam⯑paign. 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, un⯑expectedly, to riſe up before the town. Such was the terror of his arms, that even vanquiſhed as [402] 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 genera⯑liſſimo, 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 ce⯑lerity 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 Cumber⯑land, and the duke of Richelieu, both ſides began to complain that the treaty was not ſtrictly obſerved. The Hanoverians exclaimed [403] 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 agree⯑ment, ſenſible of their own ſuperiority. Trea⯑ties 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 appoint⯑ed, were conſidered as ſo ſevere, that the army once more roſe to vindicate their free⯑dom, 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 ſud⯑den 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 re⯑pulſed, 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, [404] campaigns carried on in the midſt of winter, great and bloody battles fought, yet produ⯑cing 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 prac⯑tiſed, 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 en⯑creaſing human calamity.

England was all this time happily retired from the miſeries which oppreſſed the reſt of Europe; yet from her natural military ar⯑dour 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 de⯑ſire 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, ob⯑ſerved, that the late ſucceſſes of his ally in [405] Germany had given an happy turn to his af⯑fairs, which it would be neceſſary to improve. The commons concurred in his ſentiments, and liberally granted ſupplies both for the ſer⯑vice 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 op⯑poſing ſuch meaſures, was now prevailed on to enter into them with even greater ardour than any of his predeceſſors. The hopes of put⯑ting a ſpeedy end to the war by vigorous mea⯑ſures, the connexions with which he was obliged to co-operate, and perhaps the pleaſure he found in pleaſing the king, all together in⯑cited 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 [406] 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 Sack⯑ville, who was at that time a favourite with the Engliſh army. However, a miſunder⯑ſtanding aroſe between him and the com⯑mander 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 ex⯑tenſive 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 vi⯑gour, and a general engagement of the in⯑fantry enſued. Lord George, at the head of the Britiſh and Hanoverian horſe, was ſtation⯑ed at ſome diſtance on the right of the infan⯑try, from which they were divided by a ſcanty wood that bordered on an heath. The French infantry giving ground, the prince thought [407] that this would be a favourable opportunity to pour down the horſe among them, and ac⯑cordingly ſent lord George orders to come on. Theſe orders were but ill obeyed; and whether they were unintelligible, or con⯑tradictory, ſtill remains a point for poſterity to debate upon. It is certain that lord George ſhortly after was recalled, tried by a court⯑martial, found guilty, and declared incapable of ſerving in any military command for the future. The enemy however were repulſ⯑ed in all their attacks with conſiderable loſs, and at length giving way were purſued to the very ramparts of Minden. The vic⯑tory 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 Bri⯑tiſh army in Germany now, therefore, amount⯑ed 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 ſuc⯑ceſſively following each other. The allies were worſted at Corbach; but retrieved their [408] honour at Exdorf. A victory at Warbourg followed ſhortly after, and another at Zieren⯑berg; but then they ſuffered a defeat at Com⯑pen, after which both ſides went into winter⯑quarters. 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 Eng⯑land, at this time, over every part of the globe, were amazing; and the expence of her ope⯑rations 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 thou⯑ſand men confirmed their conqueſts in North America; there were thirty thouſand men em⯑ployed 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. [409] 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 gain⯑ed 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 na⯑tion 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 twenty⯑fifth of October, the king, without having complained of any previous diſorder, was found, by his domeſtics, expiring in his cham⯑ber. 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 [410] apartment he expired. An attempt was made to bleed him, but without effect; and after⯑wards, the ſurgeons, upon opening him, diſ⯑covered that the right ventricle of the heart was actually ruptured, and that a great quan⯑tity of blood was diſcharged through the aper⯑ture.

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 admi⯑niſtration 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 Ger⯑man dominions, he entruſted the care of Bri⯑tain 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 [411] 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 com⯑merce 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 general⯑ly 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 na⯑tive [412] country, and to that he ſacrificed all other conſiderations. He was not only un⯑learned himſelf, but he deſpiſed learning in others; and though genius might have flou⯑riſhed 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 re⯑markable 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.