[]THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, IN A SERIES of LETTERS.

LETTER I.

NEVER did Monarch come to the throne of England with a greater va⯑riety of favourable concurrences than Charles I. He found himſelf poſſeſſed of a peaceful and flouriſhing king⯑dom, his right undiſputed by any ri⯑val claimant, ſtrengthened by an alliance with one of the moſt powerful Monarchs that ever reigned in France, whoſe ſiſter he had married; and, to add to all this, he was loved by his ſubjects, whom he had won by his virtues and addreſs.

[2] But this was but a flattering proſpect; the ſpirit of liberty was rouzed, and was reſolved to oppoſe the ancient claims of Monarchs, who uſurped their power in times of ignorance or danger, confirmed it by laws, and continued it by long preſcription. Charles had been, from his infancy, taught to con⯑ſider the royal privileges as ſacred pledges, which it was his duty to defend: his father had implanted the doctrines of hereditary and indefeaſible right early upon his mind. James only defended thoſe doctrines by words, and it was ſoon the fate of Charles to aſſert them by action. It is the duty of every So⯑vereign to conſider the genius and diſpoſition of his people, as a father does that of his children, and to adapt his government to each conjuncture. Charles miſtook that genius; he wanted to govern a people who had, for ſome time, learned to be free by maxims and precedents, that had their origin in times of ignorance and ſlavery.

He therefore began his reign with two of the moſt difficult projects that could be conceived; the one to ſuccour the Proteſtants in Germany againſt the Emperor and Duke of Bavaria; the other to keep the royal prerogatives entire, without a national ſtanding army. In order to effect theſe purpoſes, the houſe of commons was to be managed, who, as I have already deſcribed, from being the oppreſſed par⯑ty, were now willing, in turn, to become oppreſ⯑ſors; who, from a deteſtation of Popery, had now overſhot the mark, and were become Puritans. His firſt demand for the neceſſary ſupplies to carry on the war of the Palatinate in Germany, though un⯑dertaken at their own requeſt, was anſwered with a petition for puniſhing Papiſts, and for an examina⯑tion into the grievances of the nation. Buckingham, who had been the late King's favourite, and who was ſtill more careſſed by the preſent Monarch, did not eſcape their cenſures: inſtead of granting the [3] ſums requiſite, they employed the time in vain diſ⯑putations and complaints, till the ſeaſon for proſe⯑cuting the intended campaign was elapſed. The King, therefore, at length wearied with their de⯑lays, and offended at their contempt of his demands, thought proper to diſſolve a parliament which he could not bring to reaſon. In fact, the commons, at this time, complained of imaginary grievances, but the time was approaching when their complaints were to become real.

The miniſters of the King had not yet forgot that kind of tax which was called a benevolence, and which had been often exacted from the ſubject in former reigns. Charles thought to avail himſelf of this method of procuring money, but at the ſame time coloured it over with a greater appearance of juſtice than any of his predeceſſors. He therefore determined to borrow money of ſuch perſons as were beſt able to lend, to whom, for this purpoſe, he di⯑rected letters, mentioning the ſum. With this the people reluctantly complied; it was, in fact, a griev⯑ance, though authoriſed by a thouſand precedents; but no precedent can give ſanction to injuſtice. With this money a fleet was equipped and ſent againſt Spain, but which returned without procuring either glory or advantage.

This ineffectual expedition demanded to be re⯑paired by a new ſupply greater than what extorted loans could produce, and another parliament was called for this purpoſe. The new parliament, upon this occaſion, ſeemed even more refractory than the former, and appeared more willing to make or to com⯑plain of grievances than to grant money: but chiefly their reſentment was directed againſt Buckingham, the royal favourite. Whenever the ſubjects attack the royal prerogative, they begin with the favourites of the crown; and wiſe Princes, ſenſible of this, ſel⯑dom have any. Charles was not poſſeſſed of the [4] art of making a diſtinction between friends and mini⯑ſters; whoever was his favourite him he always en⯑truſted with the adminiſtration of affairs; he loved Buckingham, and undertook to defend him: to defend this nobleman was to ſhare his reproach; two mem⯑bers of the houſe of commons, Diggs and Elliot, un⯑dertook to accuſe him. The purport of the charge a⯑mounted to little more than that he had engroſſed too much power for himſelf and his relations, and that he had applied a plaiſter to the late King's ſide which was ſuppoſed to be poiſonous. They inveighed againſt the Duke from this frivolous accuſation, and the King, in a paſſion, ordered them both to the Tower. This was an open act of violence, and ſhould have been ſupported, or ever performed. The commons exclaimed, that their privileges were infringed; they proteſted that neither of the members had ſpoken any thing diſreſpectful of his Majeſty, and began to publiſh their vindication. The King, who was ever ready to enter upon harſh meaſures, but not to ſup⯑port them, releaſed the two members, and this com⯑pliance confirmed that obſtinacy which his former injury had contributed to raiſe. The Earl of Arun⯑del, for being guilty of the ſame offence in the houſe of Lords, was impriſoned and diſmiſſed in the ſame manner by the King. The two houſes having in this manner anſwered the royal demands for mo⯑ney, the King, rather than give up the Duke, choſe to be without the ſupply, and therefore once more diſſolved the parliament.

He had now a war to maintain, which he was engaged in by the advice of thoſe very members who refuſed to contribute to its ſupport; beſides this, he was to put the kingdom in a proper poſture of de⯑fence, and he wanted money to execute theſe pur⯑poſes. To furniſh the proper ſupplies he again had recourſe to loans, and to granting protections to the Papiſts, for ſtipulated ſums of money: ſuch as re⯑fuſed [5] had ſoldiers billetted upon them, contrary to the cuſtoms of England; and even ſome were en⯑rolled for ſoldiers themſelves. Perſons of birth and rank were ſummoned to appear before the council, and, upon their perſiſting in a refuſal, were put into confinement. We now once more perceive the ſeeds of diſcord beginning to ſhoot forth: we now ſee, as in every other civil war, both parties guilty of in⯑juſtice, yet on either ſide that injuſtice ariſing from principles of virtue; the one actuated by the inhe⯑rent liberties of mankind, the other by the preſcrip⯑tive privileges of the crown: ſuch is the general lot of humanity, to have their actions degenerate from the producing motives.

The King, now finding that nothing but the proſ⯑pect of immediate danger could induce ſome future parliament to provide neceſſary ſupplies, was reſolved to make a rupture with France, a war againſt which had ever been an expedient of producing unanimity at home. With this view he ſent out Buckingham with a fleet to relieve Rochelle, a maritime town in that kingdom, which had long enjoyed its privileges independent of the French King, and which he was now actually preparing to deprive them of. This expedition was equally fruitleſs with that to the coaſts of Spain; the Duke knew nothing of the art of war, and conſumed his time in beſieging a little fort in the iſle of Rhee, from whence he was driven with the loſs of half his army. The bad ſucceſs of this ſerved to render the unfortunate Duke ſtill more obnoxious, and the King more needy; another parliament was therefore called, and a ſupply demanded in the uſual form. The commons, in the firſt parliament, had begun with fictitious grievances, but their refuſing then to contribute the ſupplies ſoon introduced an actual abuſe of power, and rendered the King un⯑juſt, who, probably, only deſired to be eaſy. He ex⯑torted ſupplies, and impriſoned the refractory. The [6] complaints of the commons were now real; their members had been impriſoned, loans had been ex⯑torted; a tax upon merchandize, called tonnage and poundage, had been exacted without parliamentary authority; and, laſt of all, the Duke of Bucking⯑ham was ſtill ſuffered to rule the councils of the King, and inflame every proceeding. In this ſitua⯑tion they ſeemed, as uſual, reſolved to grant no mo⯑ney till their grievances were redreſſed, and till the King had given a poſitive aſſurance to maintain the liberties of the ſubject. The King promiſed both, and they voted him a liberal ſupply, upon which they were prorogued, as was cuſtomary. This freſh ſupply enabled his Majeſty to make another attempt to relieve Rochelle, and the Duke of Buckingham was again to have the command: Buckingham had ever be⯑haved with ſome haughtineſs, as being ſecure of the King's protection; but his greateſt fault ſeemed to be too large a ſhare of power, which gave offence to every order. It is the aim of all malecontents in a ſtate rather to bring the great down to their own level, than to exalt the inferior order to theirs: and this might be a motive to the lords and commons for attempting to retrench Buckingham's power. The clamour raiſed againſt him in the houſe was not loſt among the people; they re-echoed it from one to the other, and the Duke had a million of foes only from his ſeeming proſperity. Among this number was one John Felton, an Iriſhman, a lieutenant in the army; this man was naturally melancholy, cou⯑rageous, and enthuſiaſtic; he felt for his country as if labouring under a calamity which he thought it in the power of his ſingle arm to remove: he reſolved to kill the Duke, and thus to do a ſervice both to God and man. Animated with miſtaken patriotiſm and gloomy zeal, he reached Portſmouth, where the Duke was then, ſurrounded with his levee, giving the neceſſary orders to embark. Felton came up a⯑mong [7] the crowd and ſtabbed him with a long knife to the heart; the Duke inſtantly fell dead, and Fel⯑ton walked compoſedly away; but his hat had fallen off while he was ſtriking the blow, and this produced his diſcovery. He diſdained denying a murder in which he gloried, and averred that he looked upon the Duke as an enemy to his country, and, as ſuch, deſerving to ſuffer. We ſhall ſee through the courſe of this reign ſeveral inſtances of great virtues and enormous vices, for the genius of England was at this time arrived at its higheſt pitch.

The expedition to Rochelle again returned with⯑out ſucceſs, as if it had been ordered by fate that no⯑thing was to put the people into good humour. The conteſt therefore between privilege and prerogative was now carried on with the ſame acrimony as be⯑fore. Tonnage and poundage was exacted by the King as a right belonging to the crown, and refuſed by the merchants as a tax that could only be granted by the people. The parliament was called to deter⯑mine the diſpute, but, inſtead of diſcuſſing that ar⯑gument, they entered upon diſputes about religion. The houſe was moſtly compoſed of Puritans, and ſuch were for aboliſhing Epiſcopacy, and perſecuting Papiſts. They were freed from Buckingham; but there was another favourite whom they dreaded ſtill more, Laud Archbiſhop of Canterbury, a great fa⯑vourer of the opinion of Divine right, and firmly attached to the rites of the church as then eſtabliſh⯑ed. They ſeemed willing to allow the King no fa⯑vourite, and therefore loudly murmured againſt this Biſhop. Their indignation, however, was, for a while, called off to another object, which was con⯑ſidered as a new act of violence in the King. His cuſtomhouſe officers had ſeized upon the goods of one or two merchants who refuſed to pay tonnage and poundage. The Judges, in the former reign of James I, had adjudged this tax to belong to the [8] crown without conſent of parliament. The former reign therefore had been the proper time for diſput⯑ing the King's right, but the commons had then not ſo much power, or ſuch a ſpirit of reſiſtance as now. They were now perfectly ſenſible of their own ſtrength, and were reſolved to fix the limits between the King and the people. They therefore boldly and warmly remonſtrated againſt the King's proceeding; and he in return impriſoned four of the members, and diſ⯑ſolved the parliament. Theſe were the cauſes which ſoon after overturned the ſtate, and laid the throne in blood.

LETTER II.

AMonarchical government has ever been looked upon as beſt, when wiſely adminiſtered. We are ſo conſtituted by nature that ſome are born to command, and others to obey. In a republic, how free ſoever, the people cannot govern themſelves, and their leaders muſt be tyrants over their own narrow circle of ſubjects. In a monarchy the Governor is placed at a diſtance from the many, as he is but one; in a republic the tyrants are near, becauſe they are many. In the former the people are ſubject to oppreſſion from errors of will; in the latter, to be harraſſed by the rigours of the law: in a mo⯑narchy the redreſs of grievances is ſpeedy; in a re⯑public, dilatory and uncertain: in the one, puniſh⯑ments are few; in the other, ſevere and numerous, from the debility of the conſtitution.

The preſent parliament, ſeemed not ſo intent upon abridging the King's power, as upon en⯑tirely aboliſhing it; they were Calviniſts, and it is [9] the ſpirit of Calviniſm to throw off the reſtraints of royalty. The Engliſh had lately ſeen this happily effected in Switzerland and Holland, and, influ⯑enced by ſuch examples, ſeemed deſirous of imita⯑tion.

You have ſeen the King and the Engliſh parlia⯑ment now almoſt prepared for an open rupture; ſtill, however, the commons kept within the bounds of humble remonſtrance, and, while they refuſed his Majeſty's demands, aſked pardon for their delay. They had ſtill a reſpect for their Monarch, which even their republican principles could not entirely efface; and, though they were willing to wound, yet they feared to ſtrike an open blow. The Scotch ſoon ſet them an example of reſiſtance; they had, in that kingdom, long embraced the Calviniſtical doctrines; and, though they ſtill had Biſhops, theſe were reduced to poverty, and treated with contempt. James I. attempted to exalt the Biſhops, and to introduce the rites and the liturgy of the church of England among them, but died in the midſt of his endeavours. Charles, therefore, was reſolved to complete what his father had begun. This unneceſſary and ill⯑judged attempt alienated the affections of his Scotoh ſubjects. The ſedition paſt from city to city; the Calviniſts formed a league, as if all the laws, divine and human, were infringed; while the deſire in the court party of ſupporting their commands, and, in the people, of defending their religion, ſoon, excited, actually, in Scotland, thoſe dangers which in Eng⯑land were, as yet, only apprehended.

In ſuch a ſituation the King could only repreſs the preſumption of his Scotch ſubjects by the aſſiſt⯑ance of thoſe of England; but he had lately diſſolu⯑ed his parliament, and ſeemed no way diſpoſed to call another; he had cut off the ſources of every ſupply in caſes of emergency, and fondly hoped he [10] could govern by merely the terror of royalty. His favourites helped to confirm his errors; they were fond of arbitrary power, becauſe they ſhared its in⯑dulgences; the privy council conſidered itſelf as abſolute; the Star-Chamber, as it was called, ſe⯑verely puniſhed all who denied the prerogative royal; the High Commiſſion court now turned from defend⯑ing the Papiſts againſt the Puritans, whom they juſtly feared, as tinctured with the ſpirit of reſiſt⯑ance. The very Judges alſo, being choſen by the court, were entirely devoted to the King; ſo that all conſpired to lift him above juſtice, and induced him to call parliaments no more, whoſe maxims of go⯑vernment he found diametrically oppoſite to his own.

He was therefore reſolved to fix upon other me⯑thods of raiſing money: methods indeed which were practiſed by his predeceſſors, but at times when they had power to controll even juſtice, and force to com⯑pel their ſubjects to obey. Charles, in the midſt of a civil war in Scotland, and the diſcontents of his people at home, at a time when one half of his ſub⯑jects were preaching ſedition, and the other half were learning to deſpiſe Kings; without army, and without treaſures; reſolved to reign with arbitrary power.

With the taxes which he levied without parlia⯑ments in England, he undertook to bring about the reformation in Scotland; and therefore began, as his parliament was now no more, to collect a tax upon the ſubject called Ship-money. This is that fa⯑mous tax which firſt rouzed a whole nation, after an unſettled conſtitution of more than a thouſand years, at length to fix and determine the bounds of their own freedom, and the King's prerogative.

To give a ſanction to the royal orders, this tax was backed by the opinion of all the Judges, who voted it to be cuſtomary and legal. Their opinion [11] will, at once, ſerve to explain the nature of this tax, and what they judged concerning it. It ran thus, ‘We, every man by himſelf, and all of us together, have taken into ſerious conſideration the caſe and queſtion concerning Ship-money; and it is our opinion, that when the good and ſafety of the Kingdom in general is concerned, and the Kingdom in danger, that your Majeſty may, by writ under the great ſeal of England, command all your ſubjects of this your kingdom, at their charge, to provide and furniſh ſuch number of ſhips with men, victuals, and ammunition, and for ſuch time as your Majeſty ſhall think fit, for the defence and ſafety of this Kingdom from ſuch danger and peril: And that, by law, your Majeſty may compel the doing thereof, in caſe of refuſal or refractorineſs: And we are alſo of opinion, that in ſuch caſe your Majeſty is the ſole judge both of the danger, and when and how the ſame is to he prevented and avoided, &c.’

An order from the throne, thus backed by the opi⯑nion of all the Judges, it was thought, would be, at once, complied with; but the King was deceived. A private man, of courage and integrity, one John Hampden, ſtood forth as a champion for the people, and refuſed to pay a tax not authorized by parlia⯑ment. The ſum at which he was rated amounted to but twenty ſhillings, yet he refuſed to contribute even this, and brought his cauſe before the court of Exchequer. Never was a greater cauſe argued in any court before. The Judges, by their ſentence, were to determine whether the nation, and their poſterity, were to be ſubject to arbitrary power, or to enjoy freedom. The Judges determined in favour of ſervitude; Hampden was caſt; and this only ſerved to increaſe the diſcontents of the people.

The diſcontent and oppoſition the King found among his Engliſh ſubjects, one would have thought, might ſerve to repreſs his ardour for reformation in the religion of Scotland. Having publiſhed an or⯑der [12] for reading the liturgy in the principal church in Edinburgh, the people received it with clamours and imprecations; the court-party blamed their obſtinacy, as the innovations were trifling; but this was re⯑torted againſt themſelves with ſtill greater force, for labouring ſo earneſtly at the eſtabliſhment of trifles. The ſedition in that kingdom, which had hitherto been ſecret, was now kept concealed no longer; rebellion had, as it were, ſet up its ſtandard amongſt them. Yet ſtill the King could not reſolve to deſiſt from his deſign; and ſo prepoſſeſſed was he in favour of royal right, that he thought the very name of a King would influence them to return to duty. He was ſoon undeceived; the Scotch Calviniſts, whoſe principles were republican, entered into a covenant to ſuppreſs the Biſhops, and reſiſt the King's autho⯑rity. This was judged an open declaration of war, and Charles ſummoned the Nobility of England, who held lands of the crown, to furniſh a proper number of forces to ſuppreſs them. To add to his ſupplies, he demanded a voluntary contribution from the Clergy, and by means of his Queen the Catholics alſo were preſſed for their aſſiſtance. By theſe me⯑thods he found himſelf at the head of an undiſci⯑plined and reluctant army, amounting to about twenty thouſand men, commanded by Generals more willing to negotiate than to fight. However, his ſuperiority of number gave him a manifeſt advan⯑tage over the malecontents, who were not ſlow in marching to oppoſe him. Charles had inherited the peaceful diſpoſition of his father; he was unwilling to come to extremities, although a blow, then ſtruck with vigour, might have prevented many of his ſuc⯑ceeding misfortunes. Inſtead of fighting, he entered upon a treaty; a ſuſpenſion was concluded upon, and terms agreed to, that neither ſide intended to preſerve. This ſuſpenſion, and diſbanding the ar⯑mies, [13] was a fatal ſtep to the King; the Scotch forces could be again muſtered at pleaſure; the Engliſh troops, not without time, difficulty, and expence. Of this the malecontents were ſenſible, and the ne⯑gotiations met with obſtructions in proportion as they were confident of their power. In ſhort, after much altercation, and many treaties ſigned, and broken, both parties once more reſolved upon a war.

War being reſolved on, the King now took every method to raiſe money for maintaining it. Ship-money was levied as before; ſome other arbitrary taxes were exacted with great ſeverity; but one method of in⯑creaſing ſupplies reflects immortal honour upon thoſe who granted them. His counſellors and ſervants lent the King whatever ſums they could ſpare, and diſ⯑treſſed their private fortunes to ſerve the ſtate. Laud, Archbiſhop of Canterbury, and the Marquis of Ha⯑milton, contributed very large ſums; but particular⯑ly Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, gave his Majeſty twenty thouſand pounds. Wentworth was one of thoſe great characters which marked thoſe celebrated times. Upon his firſt appearance in the ſtate he was foremoſt in the oppoſition to the crown; but, finding his confederates had mixed a ſpirit of en⯑thuſiaſm with their regards for liberty, he left their ſide to take that of the King, which he fancied in greateſt danger. He was brave, wiſe, and loyal, and followed the King from principle, yet without en⯑tirely approving his conduct.

Theſe were the reſources of the crown to prepare for a Scotch war, but they were ſtill inſufficient; and there was but one method more to furniſh larger ſupplies, namely, by calling a parliament. It was now eleven years ſince Charles had called any. The ungovernable ſpirit of the laſt had taught him to hate and to fear ſuch an aſſembly. His wants, how⯑ever, at length, induced him to conſtrain his indig⯑nation, [14] and, by the advice of his Council, he called another, the members of which were ſtill more tur⯑bulent than the former, as they now had ſtill ſtronger reaſons for their diſcontent. The houſe of com⯑mons could not be induced to treat the Scotch, who were of the ſame principles, and contended for the ſame cauſe, as their enemies. They looked upon them as friends and brothers, who only roſe to teach them how to defend their privileges. The King could reap no other fruits, therefore, from this aſ⯑ſembly, but murmurings and complaints; every me⯑thod he had taken to ſupply himſelf with money was declared an abuſe. Tonnage and poundage, ſhip⯑money, the ſale of monopolies, the billetting ſol⯑diers upon the citizens were all voted ſtretches at ar⯑bitrary power. The Star-chamber gave particular offence, and inſtead of ſubſidies the houſe preſented the King with nothing but their grievances. Charles once more diſſolved this parliament, and thus aggra⯑vated the diſcontents of the people.

He had now made enemies of the Scotch nation, and of the commons of England; it remained to of⯑fend the city of London; upon their refuſing to lend him a ſum of money to carry on the war, he ſued them in the Star-chamber for ſome lands in Ireland, and made them pay a conſiderable fine. He conti⯑nued to exact all the taxes againſt which the parlia⯑ment had ſo frequently remonſtrated; even had he been deſpotic, ſuch a conduct would have ſhook him on the throne; but, limited as he was, it ſerved to complete his overthrow. He could expect little aſſiſtance from England; and the Scotch, ſenſible of their own influence in that part of his dominions, led an army of twenty thouſand men as far as New⯑caſtle upon Tyne, in order to ſeize upon, or to de⯑throne him. Having thus prepared his misfortunes, he found himſelf again obliged to call the laſt parlia⯑ment, which completed his ruin.

[15] Inſtead of granting money, this new parliament, as all the reſt had done, began by demanding to have their grievances redreſſed; they deſired an abo⯑lition of the Star chamber; exclaimed againſt arbi⯑trary taxes, and particularly ſhip-money; and, in fine, demanded that a new parliament ſhould be called every three years. Charles was now obliged to grant thoſe demands from neceſſity, which in the beginning of his reign he might have beſtowed as a favour. He expected to regain his authority by complying, but he was deceived; nothing could ſatisfy the commons but the total abolition of his power. He expected that his Engliſh ſubjects would repreſs the inſo⯑lence of thoſe of Scotland, but had the mortifica⯑tion to find the houſe of commons approve their conduct, and repay their irruption with a reward of three hundred thouſand pounds. He hoped to repreſs the Puritanical party in England, but found, to his ſurprize, almoſt the whole houſe of commons of that perſuaſion. He loved the Earl of Strafford with ten⯑derneſs, and eſteemed his wiſdom; and the houſe of commons, conſcious of his regards, accuſed the Earl of high treaſon. When we attempt innovation, we ſeldom know how far our ſchemes will extend at laſt. This parliament began with redreſſing grievances; they proceeded to reform the ſtate, and ended in to⯑tally deſtroying the conſtitution.

LETTER. III.

IN treating of a ſubject, in which almoſt every Engliſhman is partial, it is no eaſy matter to avoid falling into their errors; but, I have labour⯑ed to view this part of our hiſtory, without receiving any biaſs from party; and our conſtitution is now ſufficiently eſtabliſhed, whatever we may think of this Monarch's equity, or his ſubjects reſolution. Our laws, at preſent, differ both from what Charles endeavoured to maintain, and what his parliaments pretended to enact: we now are all agreed, that the unlimited power arrogated on one ſide, and the tu⯑multuous freedom introduced on the other, are both intolerable; yet, of the two, perhaps, deſpotiſm is ſuperior. In a republic, the tyrant is in our village, in our family; perhaps, in a monarchy, he lives at a diſtance: the oppreſſions of a Monarch are gene⯑rally exerted only in the narrow ſphere round him; the oppreſſions of the governors of a republic, though not ſo flagrant, are more univerſal: the Monarch is apt to commit great enormities, but they ſeldom reach the multitude at humble diſtance from the throne; the republican Deſpot oppreſſes the multitude that lies within the circle of his influence: the Monarch terrifies me with great evils which I may never feel; the Deſpot actually loads me with ſubmiſſions, which I am conſtantly obliged to ſuſtain; and, in my opi⯑nion, it is much better to be in danger of having my head chopped off, with an ax, once in my life, than to have my leg gauled with a continual fetter.

Whatever were the reaſonings of the King, upon this ſubject, it is certain, his actions were intended for the benefit of his ſubjects; but he continued to rule them, upon the maxims of former princes, at a time that the principles of the ſubjects were totally changed. The houſe of commons ſeemed now to have thrown off all ſubordination; they not only ar⯑raigned [17] and attained almoſt all the King's mini⯑ſters; particularly Laud, Strafford, Finch, and Winde⯑banck; but paſſed an act to make that parliament con⯑tinual, until all grievances ſhould be redreſſed. The King complied with every meaſure, yet all his com⯑pliance only ſerved to increaſe their demands. The Earl of Strafford firſt fell a victim to their popular fury: the commons exhibited an accurſation, of twen⯑ty-eight articles againſt him; the ſubſtance of which was, That he had attempted to extend the King's authority at home, and had been guilty of ſeveral ex⯑actions in Ireland. Theſe received the name of high treaſon, and the people without demanded juſtice. The managers for the houſe of commons pleaded, with vehemence, againſt him at the bar of the houſe of Lords, who were his Judges: they inſiſted, that, though each article ſeperately did not amount to a proof, yet, the whole taken together carried convic⯑tion. This is a method of arguing frequently uſed in the Engliſh courts of juſtice, even to this day; and, perhaps, none can be more erroneous; for almoſt every falſhood may thus be defended by a multiplici⯑ty of weak reaſons. In this tumult of aggravation and clamour, the Earl himſelf, whoſe parts and wiſ⯑dom had long been reſpected and acknolwedged, ſtood unmoved. He defended his innocence with all the preſence of mind, judgment, and temper, that could be expected from innocence and ability. His little children were placed near him, as he was thus de⯑fending his own cauſe, and that of his maſter: after he had, with a long and eloquent ſpeech, delivered extempore, confuted the accuſation of his enemies, he thus drew to a concluſion, ‘But, my Lords, I have troubled you too long; longer than I ſhould have done, but, for the ſake of thoſe dear pledges, a ſaint, in heaven, has left me.—’Upon this he pauſed, dropped a tear, look⯑ed upon his children, and then proceeded.—What I [18] forfeit, for myſelf, is a trifle; that my indiſcretions ſhould reach my poſterity, wounds me to the heart. Pardon my infirmity.—Something I ſhould have added, but am not able; therefore, let it paſs. And now, my Lords, for myſelf, I have long been taught, ‘that the affictions of this life are overpaid by that eternal weight of glory, which awaits the innocent; and ſo, my Lords, even ſo, with the utmoſt tranquility I ſubmit my⯑ſelf to your judgment. Whether that judgment be life, or death. TE DEUM LAUDAMUS.’ His eloquence and innocence ſeemed to influence his Judges: the King himſelf went to the houſe of Lords, and ſpoke in his defence; but the ſpirit of the people was excited, and nothing, but his blood, would give them ſatiſ⯑faction. He was condemned by both houſes, and nothing now remained, but for the King to give his conſent to the bill of attainder. But his conſent ſeemed of little conſequence; the limits of royalty were long ſince broken down, and imminent dangers might attend his refuſal. While he continued in this agitation of mind, not knowing how to behave, he received a letter from the unfortunate Nobleman himſelf, deſiring that his life might be made the ſa⯑crifice of a mutual agreement between the King and the people; adding, that to a willing mind there could be no injury. This noble inſtance of gene⯑roſity was but ill repaid; the King was perſuaded to give his conſent; he ſigned the fatal bill; Straf⯑ford was beheaded; and this taught his ſubjects ſoon after to ſpill blood that was ſtill more precious.

The whole kingdom now ſeemed to be in a fer⯑ment; all the petitions of parliament, which were in reality calculated to abaſe the King, were not⯑withſtanding drawn up with the moſt ſeeming affec⯑tion and obedience; they were conſtantly complain⯑ing in each of theſe of their fears for the church, at the very time that they were themſelves labouring its overthrow. Faction ran high. In the King's party [19] there was an ill-projected and worſe conducted de⯑ſign of keeping the prerogative as much untouched as ever it had been in the reigns of the moſt fortu⯑nate and formidable Monarchs; in the oppoſite par⯑ty a fixed reſolution of turning the ſtate into a re⯑public, and changing the government, of the church into that of preſbytery.

In the midſt of theſe troubles, the Papiſts of Ire⯑land fancied they found a convenient opportunity of throwing off the Engliſh yoke. Religion and liberty often inſpire the moſt attrocious actions; and they did ſo now. The Papiſts took a reſolution, of which we find many horrid examples in hiſtory. They at⯑tempted to cut off all the Proteſtants in that king⯑dom at one blow. Not leſs than forty thouſand per⯑ſons fell a ſacrifice upon this occaſion. In ſuch a number of murders cruelty put on a thouſand differ⯑ent ſhapes; rapes, burnings, and tortures were prac⯑tiſed in every part of that miſerable iſland; and all the Proteſtants periſhed who had not the good for⯑tune to make early proviſion for their ſafety. Such was the ſtate of Ireland then, and ſuch was England ſhortly to be. The parliament took this opportunity to blacken the King, as if he had given ſanction to the Papiſts, and encouraged their barbarous deſign; he vindicated himſelf with a zeal that nothing but innocence could inſpire; and tried every method of aſſiſting his Proteſtant ſubjects of Ireland. He even demanded ſuccours from the parliament of Scotland to relieve the Iriſh Proteſtants; but they remitted him to the parliament of England, as Ireland lay more immediately under their protection. The Engliſh houſe of commons ſent but feeble ſuccours to a peo⯑ple they pretended to deplore, and gave it as a pre⯑text, that the government at home was in danger.

They now proceeded to what they long laboured at, to eſtabliſh a republic, and deſtroy the rites of the [20] church of England. They ſignified to the King, that it was fit to have a privy council only of their appointing. Three members of the houſe of com⯑mons preſented this requeſt on their knees. The King was pleaſed to grant all. Oliver Cromwell, who was then in the houſe of commons, was heard to declare, that, if this requeſt was rejected, he would ſell his eſtate, which was then but ſmall, and retire out of the kingdom.

Hitherto, it is probable, both ſides were actuated rather by principle than ambition. The Biſhops had hitherto adhered cloſely to the King; they were not only expelled the houſe of Lords, but, upon remon⯑ſtrating againſt this unconſtitutional meaſure, were accuſed by the houſe of commons of high treaſon, and ten of them ſent to the Tower. This ſpirit of epidemic rage was not confined to both houſes of parliament alone; the populace daily ſurrounded the place of ſitting, and, with tumultuous cries, demand⯑ed juſtice. The apprentices, the common-council, and the citizens of London were foremoſt in this ſtruggle for liberty, as they thought it; their prin⯑ciples were ſincere; for the motives of a mob, though often wrong, are always honeſt. In this conteſt the Preſbyterians, and Cardinal Richelieu of France, were ever intriguing; both deſired a civil war, the one willing to depreſs the great, the other to humble the kingdom.

In this decline of the royal authority, the King was perſuaded to take a ſtep which was fatal to his intereſts. By the advice of Lord Digby, one of his miniſters, he went himſelf to the houſe of commons, and accuſed five of its members of high treaſon. Theſe were the leading members of the houſe, whom he thus ventured to call in queſtion; namely, Lord Kimbolton, Mr. Hollis, Sir Arthur Haſlerig, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hampden, and Mr. Strode. He ſat, for ſome time, in the ſpeaker's chair, to ſee if the ac⯑cuſed [21] were preſent; but they had eſcaped a few mi⯑nutes before his entry; and the houſe of commons was reſolved to ſupport the cauſe. Diſappointed, perplexed, unknowing whom to rely on, the King went next to the common-council of the city, and made his complaint to them; the common-council only anſwered by aggravating his former miſconduct. From thence he went to Windſor, where, reflecting upon the raſhneſs of his former proceeding, he wrote to the parliament, informing them, ‘that he deſiſted from his proceedings aginſt the accuſed members, and aſ⯑ſuring the parliament, that upon all occaſions he would be as careful of their privileges as of his life or his crown.’ His violence (as a fine writer remarks) had firſt ren⯑dered him hateful to his common,s and his ſubmiſ⯑ſion now contemptible.

The commons had already ſtripped the King of al⯑moſt all his privileges; the power of appointing go⯑vernors, generals, and levying armies, ſtill remain⯑ed. They therefore proceeded to petition, that the Tower might be put into their hands; that Hull, Portſmouth, and the fleet, ſhould be commanded by perſons of their chuſing. Theſe requeſts were, at firſt, conteſted, and then complied with; at laſt the commons deſired to have a militia raiſed, and go⯑verned by ſuch officers and commanders as they ſhould nominate, under a pretext of ſecuring them from the Iriſh Papiſts, whom they affected to be in dread of. This was depriving the King of even the ſhadow of his former power; but they had gone too far now to recede, and feared leaving him any power, as knowing themſelves the firſt objects on which its vengeance might be exerciſed. He was willing to grant the raiſing a militia, but inſiſted upon giving it commanders; the parliament deſired to command it for an appointed time; but the King, at laſt pro⯑voked to reſentment, cried, they ſhould not com⯑mand it, ‘no not for an hour.’ This peremptory refuſal [22] broke off all further treaty, and both ſides were now to have recourſe to arms.

Charles retired to York, and the Queen went over to Holland, to raiſe money upon the crown jewels, and provide ammunition and forces. The parliament, in the mean time, were not idle; they knew their ſtrength and popularity, and publiſhed propoſals for bringing in money or plate for the de⯑fence of the kingdom. But, though each ſide were prepared for war, yet they took every precaution to lay the blame of the firſt infraction of peace on each other. The King offered propoſals to the commons which he knew they would not accept; and they, in return, offered him nineteen propoſitions, which, if complied with, would render him entirely ſubſer⯑vient to their commands. Their import was, that the privy council, the principal officers of ſtate, the governors of the King's children, forts, caſtles, fleet, armies, ſhould be all appointed or governed by par⯑liament; that Papiſts ſhould be puniſhed by thei [...] authority; that the church and liturgy ſhould be re⯑formed by their diſcretion; and that ſuch member [...] as had been diſplaced for former offences ſhould b [...] reſtored. Theſe propoſals, which, if they had bee [...] accepted, would have moulded the government int [...] an ariſtocratical form, were, happily for poſterity [...] rejected; and the King and his parliament continue [...] to reproach each other for a civil war, of which bot [...] were actually guilty.

LETTER IV.

IN this detail of public calamities you are not [...] expect any great ſtrokes, either in politics [...] war; each party was too ſincere to give much a [...] ⯑tention to any thing but the dictates of paſſion, e [...] ⯑thuſiaſm, [23] or zeal. The parliament was convinced that it drew the ſword in defence of liberty; and the King was equally ſtedfaſt in believing, that he had the authority of Heaven for oppoſing their pre⯑tenſions. They therefore took the field with little conduct; and courage alone in the troops generally decided the fortune of the day.

The parliament, from its own authority, conſti⯑tuted Sir John Hotham, a ſitting member of the houſe of commons, governor of Hull. In this city there was a large magazine of arms, ammunition, and proviſions. The King, ſenſible of the importance of the place, was deſirous of ſecuring it for himſelf; he therefore approached the gates with three hun⯑dred horſe, and demanded entrance. Hotham ſtill preſerved ſome appearance of reſpect to his ſove⯑reign, land, on his knees, refuſed to admit him. Diſloyalty is ever timid in the beginning.

Manifeſtoes, on one ſide and the other, were now diſperſed through the whole kingdom, and the people were univerſally divided into two factions, that went by the names of Royaliſts and Round-heads. The King ordered the Nobility to attend his perſon; he procured the great ſeal from London, and erected his ſtandard at Nottingham. The people, in general, ſeemed to have loſt all reſpect to his perſon and go⯑vernment; the laws promulgated by parliament, without the ſanction of the great ſeal, were ob⯑ſerved with due obedience; and the royal ſtandard was ſcarce followed by any except a few militia. At length, however, with the ſuccours furniſhed by his Queen, and the preſents of the univerſity of Ox⯑ford, and his Clergy, he raiſed an army of about fourteen thouſand men, commanded by Prince Ru⯑pert, a man of courage and ſome experience. The parliament, which diſpoſed of the money of the nation, had one ſtill more numerous, commanded [24] by the Earl of Eſſex, who fought from principle, and who only wiſhed to bring the King to reaſon.

When the King advanced from Nottingham, and approached near Shrewſbury, he drew up his little army, and made them a ſpeech: ‘"I promiſe, ſaid he to the ſoldiers, in the preſence of Almighty God, and as I hope for his bleſſing and protection, that I will ever defend the Proteſtant religion, and in that religion am re⯑ſolved to live and die. The laws of the land, and the rights of my ſubjects, ſhall ever be the meaſure of my go⯑vernment; and, if Heaven proſpers this little army raiſed for their King's defence, I promiſe to rule by parliaments alone, and by every equitable adminiſtration. When I fail in theſe particulars, then let me be abandoned of men; and in this reſolution I hope for the aſſiſtance of all good men, end am confident of the protection of Providence.’

Eſſex, on the other hand, was reſolved to ſet up his head-quarters at Worceſter, and await the King; where, in a few days, a ſkirmiſh enſued in favour of the Royaliſts; and the battle of Edge-hill, fought ſome time after, ſeemed to confirm the King's ſupe⯑riority. The Queen had brought him ſoldiers from Holland, with ammunition and arms, and immediately departed in order to furniſh more. Yet ſtill the par⯑liament was not diſcouraged; their demands ſeemed to increaſe in proportion to their loſſes; and, as they were defeated in the field, they grew more obſtinate in the cabinet. They condemned of high treaſon ſuch governors of towns as gave up their fortreſſes to the King; while he, on the contrary, offered new terms of peace upon every advantage. But, though his deſire to ſpare his ſubjects was laudable, as a man, yet his long negotiations were faulty, as a warrior; he waſted that time in altercation and propoſal, which ſhould have been employed in vi⯑gorous exertions in the field. Upon the whole, his firſt campaign ſeemed to promiſe him ſucceſs; his [25] generals were moſtly victorious, and his army far ſuperior to the enemy in point of diſcipline. On the ſide of the parliament, the great Hampden was ſlain in the battle of Chaldgrave-field; and on the other hand, on the King's part, the gallant Lord Faulk⯑land was killed at the battle of Newbury. Theſe were the two greateſt, braveſt, and wiſeſt men of their time, who thus fell, as if, by the kindneſs of Providence, to prevent their ſeeing the miſeries, and the ſlaughter in which their country was ſhortly to be involved.

Hampden was the perſon who had refuſed paying ſhip-money, and withſtood the power of the crown; his inflexible integrity gained him the eſteem even of his enemies; and his humanity and benevolence, the affection of all that knew him more intimately.

But Faulkland was ſtill a greater character than he. He added to Hampden's ſevere principles all the politeneſs and elegance then known in Europe. He had withſtood the King while he ſaw him mak⯑ing an ill uſe of his power; but, when he perceived the deſign of the parliament to change religion, he changed his ſide, and ſtedfaſtly attached himſelf to the crown. From the beginning of the civil war his natural chearfulneſs and vivacity grew clouded, and he became ſad, pale, and negligent of his per⯑ſon; the morning of the battle it was ſeen he de⯑ſired to die, and he profeſſed that the miſeries of his country had already almoſt broken his heart. He added, that he was weary of the times, and ſhould leave them before night. He was ſhot with a muſ⯑quet in the belly, and his body was the next morn⯑ing found among an heap of the ſlain. His writings, his juſtice, and his courage, deſerved ſuch a death of glory; and they lound it. If there be happineſs in death, it muſt be in ſuch an end, falling in battle for our King and our principles.

[26] Each battle ſerved only to weaken the royal party, and to unite the parliament more ſtrongly together; the King and his followers were held together only by ſecular motives; the parliament had long been actuated by one ſtill ſtronger, that of religion; this had hitherto been the ſecret ſpring of all their com⯑motions, and now they fairly threw by the maſk, united themſelves to the church of Scotland, and ſigned the ſolemn league and covenant, which eſta⯑bliſhed Puritaniſm, and laid the foundation of a new republic. The King, to oppoſe the deſigns of the Weſtminſter parliament, called one at Oxford, where it aſſembled; and England now ſaw what it had ne⯑ver before ſeen, two parliaments ſitting at one and the ſame time. From this partial parliament he re⯑ceived ſome ſupplies; after which it was prorogued, and never after convened. The war went on with its uſual fury, and ſkirmiſhes on both ſides were fre⯑quent, which ſerved to deſolate the kingdom with⯑out deciding victory. Each county joined that ſide to which it was addicted from motives of conviction, intereſt or fear; while ſome obſerved a perfect neutrality. Several frequently petitioned for peace, the wiſe and the good were moſt earneſt in this cry; but what particularly deſerved remark was, the at⯑tempt of the women of London, who, to the num⯑ber of two or three thouſand, went in a body to the houſe of commons, earneſtly demanding a peace: ‘Give us thoſe traitors, ſaid they, that are againſt peace; give them, that we may tear them in pieces.’ The guards found ſome difficulty in quelling this inſurrection, and one or two women loſt their lives in the fray.

It is both tedious and unimproving to deſcribe all the combats, the battles, the ſkirmiſhes, that every day paſſed between either ſide. What towns were be⯑ſieged and taken, how many killed in fight, or what numbers died by the hand of the executioner; every civil war preſents the ſame picture to the imagina⯑tion; [27] and this was aggravated with all the miſeries of rage, reſentment, and deſpair. All were from principle earneſtly employed in deſtroying the conſti⯑tution; there were none of thoſe refined underſtand⯑ings, who, diſengaged from the prejudices of party, improved the univerſal prejudice of the time to ac⯑quire dominion for themſelves; all were ſeriouſly, earneſtly, and blindly engaged in the favourite pur⯑ſuit. The genius of the times was great but irregular.

Among the number who moſt ſeverely felt the in⯑dignation of the commons, was the famous William Laud, Archbiſhop of Canterbury; he had been im⯑priſoned in the Tower, at the time when nine more of the Biſhops were ſent there upon remonſtrating to the Lords againſt the ſeverity of the lower houſe. When he was brought to the bar, in order to make his defence, he ſpoke ſeveral hours with that cou⯑rage which is the reſult of innocence and integrity. The Lords, his Judges, were willing to acquit him; but the commons were determined upon his death, and over-ruled all remonſtrances made in his favour. When brought to the ſcaffold, this noble divine, without any apparent terror, made the people a long ſpeech; he told them, ‘"that he had examined his heart, and thanked God that he found no ſins there which deſerved the death he was going to ſuffer. The King had been traduced by ſome, as labouring to introduce Popery; but that he be⯑lieved him as ſound a Proteſtant as any man in the kingdom; and as for parliaments, though he diſliked the conduct of one or two, yet he never deſigned to change the laws of the country, or the Proteſtant religion."’ After he had prayed for a ſhort ſpace, the executioner did his office at [...]e blow. This man ſeemed born for a better on fate and better times; but all diſtinctions of right and wrong were now loſt in mutual animoſity; and in general the beſt characters on both ſides were thoſe [28] who fell victims to civil fury. He was learned, up⯑right, and ſincere; humble in his private deport⯑ment, but attached to trifling ceremonies, and ready to loſe his life rather than give them up.

The liturgy was, by a public act, aboliſhed the day he died, as if he had been the only obſtacle to its former removal. The church of England was rendered completely Preſbyterian, to the great ſatiſ⯑faction of the Scots, and numbers of the citizens of London. An ordinance was eſtabliſhed, by which there ſhould be one day in the week appointed as a faſt, and the money which was thus ſpared to the family, was to be paid in ſupport of the common cauſe. Thus ſtrengthened, the parliament ſeem⯑ed capable of carrying on their deſigns in an arbitra⯑ry manner; they had the Scotch to aſſiſt them; they profeſſed only one religion, and were united with the bonds of mutual danger. However, from the mo⯑ment they came to be all ranked under the denomi⯑nation of Preſbyterians, they began again to ſepa⯑rate into new parties, as if diviſions were neceſſary to the exiſtence of this parliament; one part of the houſe were Preſbyterians, ſtrictly ſo called; the other Independants, a new ſect that had lately been intro⯑duced, and gained ground ſurpriſingly. The differ⯑ence between theſe two ſects would hardly be worth mentioning, did not their religious opinions influ⯑ence their political conduct. The church of Eng⯑land, which was now totally aboliſhed, had appoint⯑ed Biſhops and a book of common prayer; the Preſbyterians exclaimed againſt both; they were for having the church governed by clergymen elected by the people. The Independants went yet ſtill far⯑ther, and excluded all clergy; they maintained that every man might pray in public, exhort his audi⯑ence, and explain the ſcriptures; but their chief dif⯑ference lay in acknowledging no ſubordination in ſe⯑cular employments, and attempting to maintain an [29] ideal equality, to which they juſtly obſerved that every man was born. Were ſuch a plan of govern⯑ment practicable, it would no doubt be the moſt happy; but the wiſe and powerful muſt ever govern over ignorance and debility, and the bad ſucceſs of their ſchemes, ſoon after carried into execution, ſhewed how ill adapted they were to human infir⯑mity. Poſſeſſed, however, with an high opinion of their ſpeculative ſcheme, they behaved with that mo⯑roſe and ſullen carriage which is ever the reſult of narrow manners and ſolitary thinking. They ſe⯑cretly laboured the abaſement of the Preſbyterians, yet joined them in their efforts to depreſs the King.

Charles, now perceiving the parliaments of England and Scotland united againſt him, and fearing to fall under their united efforts, thought proper to make a truce with the Papiſts of Ireland, in order to bring ever the Engliſh troops who ſerved in that kingdom. By this means he not only had many of the Engliſh troops that ſerved there, but alſo ſeveral of the native Iriſh who came to increaſe his army. It was then the parliament complained with truth of his employ⯑ing Papiſts in his ſervice, and ſtill farther extended their reproach by ſaying that he encouraged them to re⯑bel. Theſe troops, however, only ſerved to procure the hatred of his ſubjects, without ſtrengthening his army. They were totally routed by Fairfax, one of the generals of the parliament army, and ſlaughtered without mercy after a ſubmiſſion. It was ſaid, that ſeveral Iriſh women were found among the ſlain, who with long knives did conſiderable execution; but the animoſity of the Engliſh againſt thoſe wretches, at that time, might have given riſe to the calumny.

One misfortune now ſeemed to follow cloſe upon another: Prince Rupert, who had long ſuſtained the honour of the royal arms, was defeated at York, and his army diſperſed by Fairfax. Charles had retired to Oxford; his preſent danger excited his friends to [30] new efforts; he levied new forces, and had ſome ſlight ſucceſs. But this appearance of good fortune did not continue. His army was turbulent and ſe⯑ditious; that of the parliament every day improved in diſcipline, and obeyed from principle. Among inſtances of this nature was that act called the ſelf-denying ordinance, by which it was reſolved, that no member of the houſe of commons ſhould have a command in the army. The reaſons aſſigned for this were ſpecious, and perhaps ſincere. It was done to prevent the parliament's wiſhing for a continu⯑ance of the war, in order to enjoy a continuing ſhare of authority. The former generals were there⯑fore changed; the Earl of Eſſex, Denbigh, and Man⯑cheſter gave up their commiſſions, and Fairfax, with the aſſiſtance of Cromwell, new-modelled the army without any oppoſition.

It was the general opinion, that this new altera⯑tion would enfeeble the parliament army, but the event proved otherwiſe; they were, after this, every-where victorious. Both armies met near Naſeby. The King, who commanded the main body of his own troops, ſhewed himſelf upon this occaſion a coura⯑geous general, encouraging his ſoldiers where giving way, and rallying them in perſon when broken. The enemy, however, was victorious; wherever Cromwell fought, he brought conqueſt and terror; and the defeat of the royal army was principally owing to him. This fatal blow the King could never after recover. All his infantry were ſo ſcattered that the enemy took as many priſoners as they pleaſ⯑ed; his baggage, and cabinet in which his moſt ſecret papers were contained, fell into the hands of his pur⯑ſuers; and yet, after all, there were not above ſix hundred men ſlain upon the field of battle.

It was now that Cromwell's courage and genius began to appear; he had hitherto been only a tur⯑bulent ſpeaker in the houſe of commons, and the [31] leader of a regiment in the army. But he now diſ⯑covered talents greater than his employments, and his preſent ſucceſs opened to him the proſpects of am⯑bition, which he never after loſt ſight of. Hiſtorians ſeldom diſtinguiſh properly in the changes to be found in the ſame character; it is probable Cromwell be⯑gan to act in the ſtate with principles of conviction and ſincerity; but, new occurrences ariſing, his ſoul was not proof to the allurements of fortune; he gave way to her ſeducing call. Had he been on the op⯑preſſed ſide, he might have diſplayed ſurpriſing in⯑ſtances of conſtancy and integrity; but, happening to be victorious, he became a tyrant and uſurper, and bathed his country with royal blood.

Cromwell was poſſeſſed of apparent humility and internal pride. This is juſt the character which Machiavel deſcribes for a ſucceſsful uſurper. He was originally the ſon of a private gentleman of a moderate fortune, who had ſome years before at⯑tempted leaving the kingdom upon a principle of re⯑ligion, but was prevented by the King. This reli⯑gious deportment Cromwell ever inviolably preſerv⯑ed; it ſecured him an aſcendancy in the houſe of commons, where the majority were enthuſiaſts; it gained him the affections of Fairfax the general, who was courageous, ignorant, and ſincere. It acquired him the love of the army, where his preſence was coveted; and he alone was permitted to unite the military and civil employments in his perſon, for he had a ſeat in the houſe while he was a colonel in the field. But he was ſtill reſolved farther to ſtrengthen his intereſts by attaching the Independants privately to his ſide; they increaſed in numbers and power by his means, and he, in return, found them reſolute and perſevering friends.

The battle of Naſeby ſeemed fatal to the intereſts of the King; and Fairfax and Cromwell availed themſelves of the circumſtances that offered. Every city that they [32] appeared before capitulated. The young Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles II, participated in the misfortunes of his father, and fled to the iſland of Scilly. The King drew the ſhattered remains of his army into Oxford, and once more demanded peace. But, if he could not obtain it in the proſ⯑perous ſtate of his affairs, it was not likely that he could now ſucceed in his deſires after a defeat. The houſe of commons inſulted his misfortunes. His let⯑ters to the Queen were publiſhed, with thoſe ill⯑natured remarks and railleries which none but the vicious are capable of making. To be at once mer⯑ry and malicious is the ſign of a corrupt heart and mean underſtanding.

The King, after having taken every meaſure that he thought could procure peace, without effect, now ſaw himſelf ſhut up in Oxford, a place almoſt with⯑out any fortifications, and every day in danger of falling into the power of a fierce and exaſperated party. In ſuch a ſituation he therefore was obliged to chuſe the leaſt of two evils, and to deliver him⯑ſelf up to the Scotch army, rather than the Engliſh, as he expected to find leſs animoſity in the former. The Scotch officers had made him ſome general pro⯑miſes, grounded, probably, upon their hopes of his compliance with every requeſt they ſhould make. He ſent them word of his intention to come to their army; and they promiſed to receive him, and pro⯑vide for his ſafety. Upon this precarious aſſurance the King left Oxford, and, travelling through by⯑ways and obſcure places, arrived at the Scotch army in nine days. From that moment he ceaſed to be free. The Scotch began to negotiate with the Eng⯑liſh army, carried their royal priſoner about from one place to another, and, at length, upon conſider⯑ation of being paid the arrears due for their ſervice in England, which amounted to two hundred thouſand pounds, they delivered up their King, and returned [33] home laden with the reproaches of all good men, and the internal conviction of their own baſeneſs. From this period till the uſurpation of Cromwell, the conſtitution was convulſed with all the diſtrac⯑tions of guilt and party. When the kingly power was aboliſhed, the parliament then took up the au⯑thority; but they were ſoon to lay it down in turn, and ſubmit to a military democracy; a new form of government, which, like all other democracies, was turbulent, feeble, and bloody.

LETTER V.

THE civil war was now over; the army of Scotland, being paid the reward of perfidy, returned to its own country. The parliament had now no enemy to fear, except thoſe very troops which had fought their battles with ſucceſs. You have been already informed, that this army, by a political ſtroke of Cromwell, was rendered indepen⯑dent of the parliament, and all its generals diſabled from ſitting there. The commons therefore were now willing to get rid of it as ſoon as poſſible, well knowing that, if the army continued, inſtead of re⯑ceiving laws, it would preſume to dictate. They therefore paſſed a vote, by which it was ordained, that a part of it ſhould be diſbanded, and another part of it ſent over into Ireland. It may eaſily be imagined that Cromwell would not ſuffer this. Now was the criſis of his greatneſs, and he ſeized the op⯑portunity; he formed a council of officers, and an⯑other of common ſoldiers, called Agitators, who were appointed to enquire into the grievances of the army, and lay them before the parliament. The very [34] ſame conduct which had formerly paſſed between the parliament and King was now put in practice be⯑tween the army and parliament. As the commons granted every requeſt the army roſe in their demands; theſe accuſed the army of mutiny and ſedition, and thoſe retorted the accuſation, by alledging a mani⯑feſt deſign in the parliament to rule alone.

The King had been confined ſince he came into the power of the Engliſh, at Holmby caſtle; the ar⯑my were reſolved to be poſſeſſed of his perſon, and ſent one Joyce, a cornet, who from a taylor was be⯑come an officer, to take the King by force, and bring him a priſoner to Newmarket. This commiſ⯑ſion he executed with intrepidity and diſpatch. It was in vain that the commons, now without power, complained of this inſolence; the army, inſtead of being awed by their menaces, marched towards Lon⯑don; and now, in turn, preſcribed laws to their employers. Cromwell, willing to give all his in⯑juſtice the appearance of rectitude, cauſed eleven members of the houſe of commons to be accuſed. Theſe were the moſt powerful and leading ſpeakers, which ſo aſtoniſhed the members, that, willing to appeaſe the army at any rate, they writ to the ge⯑neral, that they were ready to receive any particular charge againſt ſuch as fell under his diſpleaſure.

This was an overture for peace, but pre-eminence was what the army aimed at; inſtead therefore of being pleaſed at this condeſcenſion, the general turn⯑ed their accuſation into a general complaint, and tried every method to provoke a quarrel, which the others endeavoured to evade. The citizens of Lon⯑don, at length, opened their eyes; they now ſaw the conſtitution effectually deſtroyed; they ſaw an oppreſſive parliament now ſubjected to a more oppreſ⯑ſive army; they perceived their religion aboliſhed, their King a captive, and their people expoſed to the worſt of ſlavery.

[35] In this exigence the common-council aſſembled the militia of the city, the works were manned, and a manifeſto publiſhed, aggravating the hoſtile inten⯑tions of the army. The houſe of commons was not leſs divided than the ſtate: one part was for encou⯑raging the citizens to proceed, while the reſt, with the two ſpeakers at their head, was for the army. The ſlighteſt diviſions, in ſuch a ſituation, are ſoon attended with violent conſequences. The commons ſeparated, the ſpeakers, with ſixty-two members, quitted the houſe to ſeek protection from the army, while thoſe who remained behind gave orders, and eſtabliſhed laws, as if they had power to enforce obedience.

Their aſſumed power, however, continued but a ſhort time, for the army, with the ſpeakers at their head, ſoon approached the city. Fear, therefore, compelled the common-council to concur in mea⯑ſures which they tacitly diſapproved. They opened their gates to the general, who, attended by the two ſpeakers and the reſt of the members, repaired to their reſpective habitations. The parliament, thus over-awed, gave up the command of the Tower to general Fairfax, and ordered him the thanks of both houſes for having diſobeyed their commands.

It ſtill remained to diſpoſe of the King, who had been ſent priſoner to Hampton-court. The In⯑dependants, at the head of whom was Cromwell, and the Preſbyterians, in the name of either houſe, treated ſeparately with him in private; he even had hopes that in theſe ſtruggles for power he might be choſen mediator in the diſpute, and expected that the ſtate, at laſt, ſenſible of the miſeries of anarchy, like a froward child, huſhed by its own importuni⯑ties, would ſettle under its former tranquil conſti⯑tution. But he was ſoon undeceived, when he found the army and the generals maſte [...] in the diſpute; and when, as he had hitherto been uſed with ſome [36] degree of reſpect, upon their prevailing, he ſaw him⯑ſelf treated with very little deference or conſideration. He therefore reſolved to ſeek ſafety by flight, and, at⯑tended by two of his courtiers, fled from his con⯑finement, and travelled on horſeback all night to the ſea-ſide, in order to embark for France, leaving behind him a letter to both houſes of parliament. His uſual fortunes, however, ſtill attended him here; no ſhip was in readineſs at the place appointed, and he had no other method left, but to truſt to the ge⯑neroſity of the Governor of the Iſle of Wight for protection. Colonel Hammond was then in that command; a creature of Cromwell, who had been placed there by the intereſt of John Hampden, whom we have ſeen ſuch an oppoſer of the King. His Ma⯑jeſty's attendants, whoſe names were Aſhburnham and Berkeley, went to talk with the Governor upon this important occaſion, who, inſtead of promiſing the protection required, only returned an evaſive anſwer, and deſired to be conducted to the King. Upon this all three went together to the houſe, where the unfortunate Monarch expected their ar⯑rival; but Hammond ſtaid below. When Aſhburn⯑ham informed his Majeſty that Hammond was come to wait upon him, but that he had given no promiſe for protection, the King, who had now found almoſt all the world unfaithful, could not help crying out, ‘O Jack, thou ha [...] undone me.’ Aſhburnham burſt into a ſhower of tears, and offered to kill Hammond that moment with his own hand. The humane Monarch would not permit this. Hammond was brought up, and the King being compelled to follow him to Cariſbrook caſtle was once more made a priſoner, and treated by Hammond with only the outward ap⯑pearances of reſpect.

In the mean time the parliament continued every day to grow more feeble, and more factious; the army more powerful, and better united among each [37] other. Cromwell had taken every precaution to eſtabliſh ſuch a ſubordination among his troops, as was neceſſary to conduct them with eaſe, and invi⯑gorate his proceedings. But his views were in ſome danger of being controverted, at this juncture, by a new and unheard-of confederacy. The Indepen⯑dants were for having no ſubordination in govern⯑ment. A ſet of men called Levellers now aroſe, who declared againſt any other governor than Chriſt. They declared that all degrees ſhould be levelled, and an equality univerſally eſtabliſhed in titles and eſtates. They preſented ſeveral petitions, and car⯑ried their inſolence to an immeaſurable pitch. Cromwell at once ſaw that he was now upon the point of loſing all the fruits of his former ſchemes and dangers, and dreaded this new faction ſtill the more, as they turned his own pretended principles againſt himſelf: thus finding all at ſtake, he was re⯑ſolved, by one reſolute blow, to diſperſe the faction, or periſh in the attempt. Having intimation that the Levellers were to meet at a certain place, he unexpectedly appeared before the terrified aſſembly, at the head of his red regiment, which had been hitherto invincible. He demanded, in the name of God, what their aſſembly and murmurings would be at; and, receiving an inſolent anſwer, he laid two of the moſt remarkable dead upon the ground with his own hands. The guards diſperſing the reſt, he cauſed ſeveral of them to be hanged upon the ſpot, ſent others priſoners to London, and thus diſperſed a faction, no otherwiſe criminal than in having fol⯑lowed his own example.

This action ſerved ſtill more to increaſe his power in the camp, in the parliament, and in the city. Fairfax, now become a Lord, was nominally general, but Cromwell was inveſted with all the power of the army. The King, a priſoner in the Iſle of Wight, ſtill continued to negotiate a peace; while the parlia⯑ment [38] ſaw no other method of deſtroying the mili⯑tary power which themſelves had raiſed, but by oppoſing to it that of the King. Frequent propoſi⯑tions therefore paſſed between the captive Monarch and the commons; but the great obſtacle, their in⯑ſiſting upon deſtroying Epiſcopacy, ſtill defeated every meaſure.

In the mean time the Scotch, aſhamed of having been thought to have ſold their King, raiſed an army in his favour. Many of the young nobility in Eng⯑land ſeconded their intentions; the King's deſperate affairs once more began to wear a favourable aſpect, which Cromwell perceiving, led his veteran army to cer⯑tain victory. Succeſs ſtill ſeemed to back his crimes; he defeated their forces entirely at Preſton, and took the Duke of Hamilton, their general, priſoner. Fair-fax, on the other hand, was equally ſucceſsful in Kent and Eſſex; the inſurgents having retired into the city of Colcheſter, which declared for the King, he blocked them up, and, having compelled them to ſurrender at diſcretion, he treated them with that in⯑humanity for which the republican army was at that time remarkable.

The parli ment ſtill continued to treat with the King, and, apprehending more from the deſigns of their generals than the attempts of their Monarch, ſeemed in earneſt, for the firſt time, in their negotia⯑tions; but it was now too late; the army ſoon re⯑turned crowned with their accuſtomed ſucceſs, and with furious remonſtrances demanded juſtice upon the King. They accuſed him as the cauſe of all the misfortunes of the kingdom, and inſiſted that his par⯑tizans and favourites ſhould ſhare with him in his public puniſhment. This remonſtrance was ſoon af⯑ter backed by petitions from the garriſons diſperſed over different parts of the kingdom, and the counties of Somerſet and Norfolk concurred in the ſame de⯑mand. Fairfax, being influenced by Cromwell, and [39] not perceiving that he was the tool of his crafty collegue, transferred his royal priſoner from the Iſle of Wight to Hurſt caſtle. The parliament complained of this arbitrary proceeding, but their remonſtrances were now but empty ſound. They began to iſſue ordinances for a more effectual oppo⯑ſition; but they received a meſſage from Cromwell, that he intended paying them a viſit next day with his army, and in the mean time ordered them to raiſe him upon the city of London forty thouſand pounds. Affrighted at the approaching danger, they complied with his demand; and, in the mean time, the ge⯑neral with his army came and took up his quarters in the ſkirts of the city. The commons ſtill pro⯑ceeded in the treaty with the King, but this Crom⯑well was reſolved to oppoſe: they voted, that the carrying the King priſoner to Hurſt caſtle was with⯑out the advice or conſent of the houſe. To puniſh them for this, Cromwell placed guards round their houſe, and made thoſe members priſoners whom he judged moſt oppoſite to his deſigns. One of his colonels, whoſe name was Pride, having a paper of names in his hand, ſeized upon one-and-forty, and ſent them to the Court of Wards, where they were kept under guard. Theſe were Preſbyterians, the original authors of all the troubles, and who now fell victims to the ſide they had eſpouſed. The next day an hundred more of the members were denied entrance; and that part of the houſe which now remained was entirely compoſed of a ſmall body of Independants, ludicrouſly called the Rump. Theſe ſoon voted, that the tranſactions of the houſe, a few days before, were illegal; and that the general's conduct was juſt and neceſſary.

This parliament, if it now deſerves the name, was nothing but a medley of the moſt obſcure citizens, the ſlaves of the army, the officers of which, being themſelves members, ruled all their proceedings. It [40] was now therefore unanimouſly reſolved in this ſeditious aſſembly to erect an High Court of Juſ⯑tice, with power to try the King for treaſon againſt the kingdom. For form-ſake they deſired the concurrence of the few remaining Lords in the other houſe; but even here there ſtill was virtue enough left unanimouſly to reject ſo horrid a propo⯑ſal. This no way abated the ardour of the com⯑mons; they voted that the concurrence of the houſe of Lords was unneceſſary; they declared that all power was originally derived from the people; a declara⯑tion true in itſelf, but which they wreſted to the moſt deteſtable purpoſes. Colonel Harriſon, the ſon of a butcher, was commanded to conduct the King from Hurſt caſtle to Windſor. When he arrived there, the council of war ordained, that he ſhould be no lon⯑ger treated with the deference due to royalty. All ceremony was laid aſide, and he now ſaw himſelf de⯑prived of his ſervants, and expoſed to the contempt of low-bred inſolence. From the ſixth to the twen⯑tieth of January, the time was employed in making preparations for this aſtoniſhing ſcene of guilt. One hundred and forty-five perſons were appointed Judges upon this occaſion; and one Bradſhaw, a practitioner of the law, was elected as Preſident of this deteſtable ſynod.

The King was now conducted from Windſor to St. James's, and was next day produced before the High Court at Weſtminſter-hall to take his tryal. He ſtill remembered the dignity he owed to himſelf before ſuch an inferior court; and, taking his place with his hat on, with a ſtern air, ſurveyed his Judges, who were alſo covered. When his charge was read, importing that he had been the cauſe of all the blood that was ſhed ſince the commencement of the rebellion, he could not repreſs a ſmile at once of contempt and indignation. He then de⯑manded by what authority he was brought to ſuch a tryal? To which Bradſhaw replied, that he was [41] tried in the name of the commons of England. The King then objected to the legality of the tribunal, ſince the ſanction of the Lords and his own were wanting to complete it; and refuſed to plead to the articles of the impeachment Being deſired to an⯑ſwer ſeveral times; and perſiſting in his refuſal, he was remanded to his confinement, and the court adjourned. At their ſecond ſitting the preſident again ſummoned the King to anſwer to his charge; and the King again demurred to the legality of his Judges, and began to open his objections, when he was interrupted by Bradſhaw, and ſent back to pri⯑ſon, as before. At his third appearance he continued firm to his purpoſe, and refuſed to reply, until he ſhould be convinced that their proceedings were not contrary to the fundamental laws of the kingdom. The fourth and laſt time he appeared before this ſelf-created court of juſtice, as he was going thither, he was inſulted by the ſoldiers, and the mob, who exclaimed, ‘Juſtice, juſtice, execution, execution.’ He ap⯑peared before the court with the ſame firm compo⯑ſure as uſual, with his hat on; and while his fen⯑tence was reading, in which he was branded with all the odious appellations that malice could ſug⯑geſt, he diſcovered no other emotions than thoſe of pity. In walking back from this horrid tribunal, the rabble renewed the cry of ‘Juſtice, execution;’ and among other inſults one miſcreant preſumed to ſpit in the face of his King. He patiently wiped his face: ‘Poor ſouls, ſaid he, they would treat their generals in the ſame manner for ſixpence.’ A ſoldier more com⯑paſſionate than the reſt could not help imploring a bleſſing upon his royal head; an officer overhearing it ſtruck the pious centinel to the ground in preſence of the Monarch, who could not help ſaying, ‘that the puniſhment exceeded the offence.’ The day of execu⯑tion was fixed to be the third after his ſentence; which when it arrived, he was conducted on foot [42] through St. James's Park to Whitehall, accompanied by Doctor Juxon, and guarded by a regiment of foot, under the command of Colonel Tomlinſon. The ſcaffold was covered with black, in the middle of which were ſeen the block and ax, with two exe⯑cutioners in maſques. The ſoldiers were placed round it, and an infinite concourſe of ſpectators waited with ſilent horror at a greater diſtance. The King ſurveyed all their ſolemn preparations with calm compoſure; he aſſured the perſons who ſtood with him upon the ſcaffold, that he thought himſelf guiltleſs of any crime but that of having given up the Earl of Strafford to the fury of his enemies; and that he had confidence in the mercy of Heaven. While he thus avowed his innocence, the Biſhop who attended him warned him that he had but one ſtage more to heaven; at which the King cried out, ‘I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no diſturbance can arrive.’ ‘"You are exchanged, replied the Biſhop, from a temporal to an eternal crown; a good exchange!"’ Having now taken off his cloak, he delivered his George to the Prelate, em⯑phatically pronouncing the word, ‘Remember.’ He then laid his head on the block, and ſtretched forth his hands as a ſignal. One of the men in a maſque ſevered his head from his body at a blow; and the other, holding it up ſtreaming with gore, cried out, ‘This is the head of a traitor.’ Such was the death of Charles, who lived long enough to ſee the laws and conſtitution of his country expire before him. He had the misfortune to be bred up in high notions of the prerogative which he thought his duty to ſuſtain. He lived at a time when the ſpirit of the law was in oppoſition to the genius of the people; and govern⯑ing by old rules, inſtead of endeavouring to accom⯑modate himſelf to the changes of the times, he fell in the univerſal convulſion. Many Kings before him expired by treaſons, plots, or aſſaſſination; but never [43] ſince the times of Agis the Lacedemonian were any but him ſacrificed by their ſubjects with all the for⯑malities of juſtice. Upon the whole, it muſt be con⯑feſſed, that, though the nation was branded by fo⯑reigners with reproach upon this occaſion, yet theſe ſtruggles at length ended in domeſtic happineſs and ſecurity; the laws became more preciſe, and the ſub⯑ject more ready to obey, as if a previous fermentation in the conſtitution was neceſſary to its ſubſequent re⯑finement.

LETTER VI.

CROMWELL, who had ſecretly ſolicited the King's death, now began to feel wiſhes to which he had been hitherto a ſtranger; he perceived himſelf not far removed from the object of his moſt unbounded ambition. His views expanded with ſuc⯑ceſs, and his firſt principles of liberty ſhrunk when oppoſed to the unbounded proſpect of power. The parliament, which was ſtill permitted to enjoy the ſhadow of authority, voted it high treaſon to ac⯑knowledge Charles Stewart, ſon of the murdered King, as ſucceſſor to the throne. They likewiſe voted the houſe of Lords uſeleſs and dangerous, and paſſed an act for the abolition of all kingly power. A great ſeal was made, on one ſide of which were engraved the arms of England and Ireland, with this inſcription, ‘The great ſeal of England;’ on the reverſe was repreſented the houſe of commons ſitting, with this motto, ‘The firſt year of freedom, by God's bleſſing, reſtored, 1648.’

They next proceeded to try thoſe gallant men whoſe attachment to their late Sovereign had been moſt remarkable. The Duke of Hamilton and Lord [44] Capel were accuſed, condemned, and beheaded; ſe⯑veral others ſhared the ſame fate. The Earl of Norwich and Sir John Owen were condemned, but reprieved. The Scotch were not a little diſpleaſed at the death of the Duke, who was executed not only contrary to the laws of war, but the law of nations; they were therefore determined to acknow⯑ledge the young Prince for their King. But their love of liberty, in ſome meaſure, ſeemed to combat their reſentment; they called him to the throne in⯑deed, but, at the ſame time, abridged his power with every limitation which they had formerly at⯑tempted to impoſe on their late Sovereign. The ſe⯑cond Charles had neither the virtue, the conſtancy, nor the principles of his father. Attached to no re⯑ligion, he agreed to all their propoſals, and was con⯑tented to accept the formalities without the power of a King. He was received at Edinburgh with de⯑monſtrations of profound reſpect, and entered the city by that very gate on which the limbs of the brave Montroſe, one of his moſt faithful adherents, were ſtill expoſed; but he ſoon found that the life he was likely to lead would be an inſupportable bon⯑dage to one of his volatile diſpoſition. He was ſur⯑rounded and inceſſantly importuned by the Scotch fanatical clergy, who came to inſtruct him in reli⯑gion, and obliged him to liſten to long ſermons, in which they ſeldom failed to ſtigmatize the late King as a tyrant, to accuſe his mother of idolatry, and himſelf of an untoward diſpoſition. Upon appoint⯑ed days he was obliged to hear ſix ſermons without intermiſſion. They inſiſted upon his obſerving Sun⯑day with a Jewiſh ſtrictneſs. They even watched his looks; and, if he happened to ſmile at any part of their abſurd enthuſiaſms, he was reprimanded for his profaneneſs. Charles for a while bore this inſo⯑lence with hypocritical tranquility, and even pre⯑tended to be highly edified by their inſtructions; but, [45] notwithſtanding this, he only wiſhed for an opportu⯑nity of eſcaping from ſuch a variety of diſguſting impertinence.

In the mean time the Engliſh parliament, alarmed at the King's reſtitution in Scotland, ſent to recall Cromwell from Ireland, where he had carried on the war with his uſual ſucceſs. He had reduced Kil⯑kenny and many other places, and proſecuted his conqueſts with ſurpriſing rapidity. However, he now left the war in that kingdom to be carried on by Ire⯑ton, his deputy-lieutenant; and returned to England, in obedience to the mandate of the parliament. When he took his ſeat in the houſe, the ſpeaker thanked him for the ſervices he had done the com⯑monwealth. They then proceeded to deliberate up⯑on the war with Scotland. They deſired to know if Fairfax would conduct the enterprize. Fairfax, a rigid Preſbyterian, who had all along fought from principle, declined oppoſing a nation which he con⯑ſidered as co-operating in the ſame good work for which he had firſt drawn the ſword; he therefore declined the command, ſent his commiſſion to the commons, and retired to ſpend the remainder of his life in privacy and peace.

This was an inlet to Cromwell's ſubſequent power; he was appointed general of the forces of the com⯑monwealth, and ſoon marched into Scotland at the head of an army of eighteen thouſand men, long accuſtomed to conquer. He found general Leſly at the head of an army far more numerous than his own, but undiſciplined and mutinous. After ſome previ⯑ous ſkirmiſhing, Cromwell ſaw himſelf in a very diſ⯑advantageous poſt near Dunbar, and his antagoniſt ready to take advantage of his incommodious ſitua⯑tion. However, perceiving the Scots preparing to give him battle, he aſſured his ſoldiers that the Lord had delivered the enemy into his hands, and ordered his army to ſing pſalms, as already aſſured of victory. [46] The miniſters of the Scotch army were not leſs ſan⯑guine in their aſſurances of victory than he; they boldly promiſed ſucceſs in the name of the Lord, and excited a ſpirit of impatience among the ſoldi⯑ers. Victory, as always before, again declared for Cromwell, who routed the enemy with great ſlaughter, while he did not loſe on his ſide above forty men in all.

Charles, who hated the Scotch army, and only dreaded Cromwell, was well enough pleaſed at this defeat. It ſerved to introduce him to a greater ſhare in the command than he was before permitted to en⯑joy. He therefore put himſelf at the head of that remnant which ſurvived the defeat, and ſtrengthened it by the royaliſts, who had been before excluded from his ſervice. And now, inſtead of following Cromwell, who led his victorious troops to Perth, he reſolved to ſeize this opportunity of penetrating into England, where he expected to be joined by numbers there ſtill attached to his intereſts. His hopes in this were fruſtrated; his army, on their march, was leſſened by continual deſertion and diſ⯑eaſe. Few voluntiers repaired to the royal ſtandard; and he at length ſaw his vigilant enemy overtaking him at Worceſter. Both armies fought with equal intrepidity, but Cromwell was again victorious. Ne⯑ver was ſo complete a victory obtained by him be⯑fore. Two thouſand periſhed by the ſword, and four times that number, being taken, were ſold as ſlaves to the American planters. The conqueror be⯑came maſter of all Scotland, and ſet a price of a thouſand pounds upon the head of the King.

Imagination can ſcarce conceive dangers mor [...] romantic, or diſtreſſes more ſevere, than thoſe whic [...] attended the young King's eſcape from Worceſter [...] After his hair was cut off, the better to effect hi [...] eſcape, he worked for ſome days, diſguiſed as a pea⯑ſant, at wood-cutting. He next made an attemp [...] [47] to retire into Wales, under the conduct of one Pen⯑drell, a poor but faithful companion in his diſtreſs. But in this attempt he was diſappointed, every paſs being guarded to prevent his eſcape. Being obliged to return, he met one Colonel Careleſs, who, like himſelf, had eſcaped the carnage at Worceſter; and it was in his company that he was obliged to climb a ſpreading oak, among the thick branches of which they paſſed the day together, while the ſoldiers of the enemy went underneath in purſuit of him. From thence he paſſed with imminent danger, feeling all the viciſſitudes of famine, fatigue, and pain, to the houſe of one Mr. Lane, a worthy ſubject of his, in Staffordſhire. Here he deliberated about the means of eſcaping to France. They agreed that he ſhould ride before this gentleman's daughter, on a viſit to one Mrs. Horton, who lived in the neigh⯑bourhood of Briſtol. During this journey he every day met people whoſe perſons he knew, and once paſſed through a whole regiment of the parliament army.

When they arrived at the houſe of Mr. Norton, the firſt perſon they ſaw was one of his own chap⯑lains, ſitting at the door, amuſing himſelf with ſee⯑ing people play at bowls. The King, after having taken proper care of his horſe in the ſtable, was ſhewn to an apartment which Mrs. Lane had pro⯑vided for him, upon pretence of indiſpoſition. The butler, being ſent to him with ſome refreſhment, no ſooner beheld his countenance, which was now very pale with anxiety and fatigue, than he recollected the viſage of his King and Maſter, and falling upon his knees, while the tears ſtreamed down his cheeks, he cried out, ‘"I am rejoiced to ſee your Majeſty."’ The King enjoined him ſecrecy, and the honeſt ſervant punctually kept his word. Having ſtaid ſome days in this place, he repaired to the houſe of Colonel Wyndham, where he was cordially receiv⯑ed, [48] that gentleman's family having ever been noted for loyalty. Purſuing his route to the ſea-ſide, he once more had a very providential eſcape from the little inn at which he lodged. It happened to be a ſolemn faſt, and a fanatical weaver, who had fought in the parliament army, was preaching againſt the King, in a chapel fronting the houſe. Charles was actually one of the audience, A farrier of the ſame principles, who had been examining the horſes be⯑longing to the paſſengers, came to aſſure the preacher, that he knew by the faſhion of the ſhoes that one of the ſtranger's horſes came from the North. The preacher inſtantly affirmed, that this horſe could be⯑long to no other than Charles Stewart, and went immediately with a conſtable to the houſe; but the King, in the mean time, found means to eſcape. Thus, at length, after inexpreſſible hardſhips, and having experienced the fidelity of forty different per⯑ſons of all ranks, who had power to betray him, he embarked at Brighthelmſted, and landed ſafely in Normandy.

Cromwell, in the mean time, returned to London in triumph, where he was met by the ſpeaker of the houſe, accompanied by the mayor and magiſtrates in their formalities. His firſt care, upon his return, was to take the advantage of his ſucceſſes, by depreſſ⯑ing the Scotch. An act was paſſed for aboliſhing royalty in Scotland, and annexing it as a conquered province to the Engliſh commonwealth, impowering it, however, to ſend a certain number of repreſenta⯑tives to the Britiſh parliament. It was now ſeen with aſtoniſhment, that a parliament compoſed of obſcure and weak members could govern at once with unanimity and ſucceſs. Without any acknowledged ſubordination they levied armies, maintained fleets, and gave laws to their neighbours. Never was Eng⯑land more powerful than at this period. The finances were managed with oeconomy and exactneſs. No [49] private perſon became rich by public extortions. The revenues of the crown, the lands of the Biſhops, and a tax of an hundred and twenty thouſand pounds each month, ſupplied the wants of the government, and invigorated all their proceedings.

Having reduced the Britiſh dominions to perfect obedience, the parliament next reſolved to chaſtiſe the Dutch, who had given but very ſlight cauſes of complaint. Doriſlaus, one of the late King's Judges, being ſent thither by the commons as envoy, was aſſaſſinated by the royal party that had taken refuge there; St. John, appointed Engliſh ambaſſador. was alſo inſulted by the friends of the Prince of Orange. Theſe were grounds ſufficient to incenſe the republic of England to a war. Its ſucceſs, how⯑ever, was doubtful; Blake commanded the Engliſh, and Van Tromp was Admiral of Holland; both equally experienced, courageous, and active. Seve⯑ral engagements ſerved only to ſhew the excellence of the Admirals, without determining the balance of naval power. The parliament, however, was will⯑ing to continue the war, rightly judging that, when the force of the nation was exerted by ſea, it would diminiſh Cromwell the general's power upon land.

Cromwell was not behind them in penetration; he ſaw they dreaded his growing power, and wiſhed to diminiſh it; all his meaſures were conducted with a bold intrepidity that marked his character; and he was now reſolved to make another daring effort. He perſuaded his officers to preſent a petition for pay⯑ment of arrears and redreſs of grievances, which he knew would be rejected with diſdain. The houſe, upon receiving it, appointed a committee to prepare an act, that all perſons who preſented ſuch petitions for the future ſhould be deemed guilty of high trea⯑ſon. This was what Cromwell wiſhed for. He was ſitting in council with his officers, when inform⯑ed of the ſubject on which the houſe was deliberating. [50] Turning to major-general Vernon, ‘I am compelled, cried he, to do a thing that makes the very hair of my head ſtand on end;’ and, ſtarting up with marks of violent indignation in his countenance, he haſtened to the parliament, with a body of three hundred ſoldiers. Upon entering the houſe, he took his place, and ſat ſome time to hear the debates; and, when the ſpeaker was about to put the queſtion, he ſuddenly roſe up, and, reviling them for their ambition and cruelty, he ſtamped with his foot, and inſtantly the houſe was filled with armed men. Then addreſſing himſelf to the members, ‘Get you gone, ſaid he; give place to honeſt men; you are no longer a parliament; I tell you, you are no longer a parliament; the Lord has done with you.’ He then accuſed one as a drunkard, another as a whoremaſter, a third of adultery, and a fourth of extortion. ‘It is you, added he, that have forced me upon this; I have ſought the Lord night and day, that he would rather ſlay me than put me upon this work.’ Then pointing to the mace, ‘Take away, cried he, that bauble;’ and, turning out all the members, he ordered the door to be locked, and, putting the key in his pocket, retired to Whitehall. Thus by one daring exploit the new republic was aboliſhed, and the whole power, civil and military, centered in him alone. The preſent unſteady form of the Engliſh government, is the ſtrongeſt proof of a late philo⯑ſopher's opinion, that every country is poſſeſſed of a ſet of laws and conſtitutions beſt adapted to the nature of the inhabitants, the climate, and the ſoil, which when once broken through, the government muſt continue weak and unſteady, until the natural conſtitution is reſtored; as in mechanics all bodies continue to waver till their center of gravity is ſup⯑ported.

LETTER VII.

THAT parliament, which had long gloried in reſiſting violence, was now diſſolved by an act of the moſt flagrant oppreſſion. The people, how⯑ever, expreſſed no diſlike at their diſſolution. Crom⯑well received congratulatory addreſſes from the fleet, the corporations, and the army; but he was unwil⯑ling to put forth all his power at once; he reſolved to amuſe them with the form of a commonwealth, and familiarize them by degrees to arbitrary govern⯑ment. He decreed, that the ſovereign power ſhould be veſted in one hundred and forty-four perſons, un⯑der the denomination of a parliament; and he un⯑dertook himſelf to make the choice. The perſons he pitched upon were the loweſt, meaneſt, and moſt ignorant among the citizens; he foreſaw, that, dur⯑ing the adminiſtration of ſuch, he alone muſt govern; or that they would ſoon throw up the reins of go⯑vernment, which they were unqualified to guide. To excel in fanaticiſm ſeemed a neceſſary qualifi⯑cation in this new parliament. Several, with long names borrowed from ſcripture, were members; but a man, whoſe name was Praiſe God Barebones, was one of the moſt remarkable; and by his name the aſſembly was afterwards called in ridicule.

To this aſſembly was committed the care of mak⯑ing peace with the Dutch; but, being utterly unſkil⯑led in ſuch negotiations, the ambaſſadors of the States were quite at a loſs how to treat with them. The people exclaimed at ſo fooliſh a legiſlature, and they themſelves ſeemed not inſenſible of the contempt and ridicule which they every day failed not to incur. They had now ſat five months without doing any thing of importance; when at length Rouſe, their ſpeaker, roſe up, and propoſed that, as they were unable to bear the burthen that was laid upon them, [52] they ſhould reſign their authority [...]im from whom they had received it. Cromwell accepted their re⯑ſignation with pleaſure, and ſent Colonel White to clear the houſe of the few fanatics who perſiſted in continuing to ſit. White, entering with a detach⯑ment of ſoldiers, aſked, ‘What they did there!’ To which replying, that they were ſeeking the Lord: ‘Then you may go elſewhere, cried he, for to my certain knowledge the Lord has not been here theſe many years.’

The officers now, by their own authority, de⯑clared Cromwell Protector. He was poſſeſſed of that which is the original of all command, namely, force; for the ſtrong ever give laws to the feeble. The mayor and aldermen were ſent for; the uſurper was inſtalled at Whitehall, in the palace of the Eng⯑liſh Kings; he aſſumed the office of Protector; was honoured with the epithet of Highneſs, and proclaim⯑ed in London, and other parts of the kingdom. Thus an obſcure inhabitant of Wales, at length, roſe to unlimited power, far beyond that of former Kings, by his courage and his hypocriſy.

He was about fifty-three years of age when he be⯑gan to reign, which he did with equal conduct, mo⯑deration, and ſucceſs. He, in the beginning, choſe among the officers, the former companions of his dangers and victories, twenty-one counſellors of ſtate, to each of whom he aſſigned a penſion of one thouſand pounds a year. The troops were always paid a month in advance; the magazines were well provided; the public treaſure, of which he had the diſpoſal, was managed with frugality and care. The Dutch were compelled to ſue for peace, and he dic⯑tated the terms. He inſiſted upon their paying de⯑ference to the Britiſh flag. They were compelled to abandon the intereſt of the King; they engaged to pay eighty-five thouſand pounds, as an indemni⯑fication for former expences; and to reſtore the Engliſh Eaſt-India company a part of thoſe domi⯑nions [53] of which they had unjuſtly deprived them in the Eaſt.

Every nation with whom the Engliſh had any connection, now courted their Protector's alliance. Among the number France ſolicited his aid againſt Spain: Cromwell, though capable of conducting the internal parts of government, had no ſkill in foreign policy. He lent his aſſiſtance to humble Spain, at a time when the intereſts of Europe required her ex⯑altation. Cardinal Mazarine gave him up Dunkirk. His fleet, under the conduct of the famous Blake, took the iſland of Jamaica. The kingdom of Ire⯑land was entirely reduced to obedience, and treated by him as a conquered country; many thouſands of the wretched natives ſtrove to find, in baniſhment, an alleviation of their miſeries; numbers died of fa⯑mine, and by the hands of the executioner not a few.

Cromwell, to give the greater appearance of juſtice to his uſurpation, was reſolved to govern by parlia⯑ment, yet by ſuch a parliament alone as he could govern. He aſſembled them, and diſſolved them at pleaſure; the houſe of Lords was entirely diſconti⯑nued; but he ſet up a new chamber of parliament, compoſed of his own creatures, to oppoſe that elected by the voices of the people. Thus, ever active, vi⯑gilant, and reſolute, he diſcovered every conſpiracy againſt his perſon, and every inſurrection among the people, before they took effect. He had the addreſs to prevail upon his parliament to make him an offer of the crown, merely to have the ſeeming magnani⯑mity of refuſing it, and thus to confirm his real power.

His private life was no leſs worthy our obſerva⯑tion; he led an obſcure life in the palace aſſigned for his habitation, without pomp, without luxury. When he ſent his ſon Henry into Ireland, he al⯑lowed him but one ſervant in his retinue. His man⯑ners [54] were naturally auſtere, and he preſerved the dignity and diſtance of his character in the midſt of the coarſeſt familiarity. He was cruel from policy; juſt and temperate from inclination; laborious and exact in all his deſigns; without eloquence he had the talent of perſuading; and without ſincerity the art of making ſincere adherents: his dexterity equal⯑ly ſatisfied every ſect; with Preſbyterians, a Preſby⯑rian; with Deiſts a Deiſt; only an Independant in principle. It was by theſe arts he continued his authority, firſt cemented by blood, and maintained by hypocriſy and uſurpation.

Yet, notwithſtanding this conduct, which contri⯑buted to render him truly formidable at home, he was, after a few years reign, become truly miſerable to himſelf. He knew that he was deteſted by every party in the kingdom; he knew the fierce ſpirit of the people whom he had made ſlaves; and he was inceſſantly haunted by the terrors of an aſſaſſination. To increaſe his calamity, a book was publiſhed, in⯑titled, Killing no murder; in which it was proved to be juſt to deſtroy him at any rate. ‘Shall we, ſaid this popular declaimer, who would not ſuffer the lion to invade us, tamely ſtand to be devoured by the wolf?’ Crom⯑well read this ſpirited treatiſe, and it is ſaid was ne⯑ver ſeen to ſmile afterwards. He wore armour un⯑der his cloaths, and always kept a loaded piſtol in his pocket; his aſpect became cloudy, and he re⯑garded every ſtranger with a glance of timid ſuſpi⯑cion. He always travelled with hurry and precipi⯑tation, and never ſlept two nights ſucceſſively in the ſame apartment. A tertian ague came at laſt to deliver him from a life of horror and miſery. He died at Whitehall, after having nominated his ſon Richard Cromwell as his ſucceſſor. Notwithſtand⯑ing the evident approaches of death, his fanatical chaplains affirmed that he would recover, and thanked God for the undoubted aſſurances they had [55] received of his ſafety. He was even of the ſame opinion himſelf. ‘I tell you, cried he to the phyſicians that attended him, I ſhall not die of this diſtemper; fa⯑vourable anſwers have been returned from Heaven, not only to my own ſupplications, but likewiſe to thoſe of the godly, who carry on a more intimate correſpondence with the Lord.’ This behaviour, at his death, is an undeniable proof that he was in reality more the enthuſiaſt than an hy⯑pocrite; and, in fact, we are more frequently de⯑ceived ourſelves, than we attempt to deceive others.

Whatever were the differences of intereſt after the death of the Uſurper, the influence of his name was ſtill ſufficient to get Richard his ſon proclaimed Pro⯑tector. The parties, however, were now grown too headſtrong to be controlled by greater abilities; what then could Richard do who had nothing active in his diſpoſition, no talents for buſineſs, no know⯑ledge of government, no ambition, no importance? Oliver, by means of the army, had long governed the kingdom; they were now left to govern alone. They firſt therefore preſented a petition to the new Protector, demanding that no member of the army ſhould be ſubject to the civil power, and that the officers ſhould enjoy the privilege of chuſing their own general. Richard, ſhocked at their preſump⯑tion, rejected their requeſts, and even threatened to diſmiſs them the ſervice. The parliament attempted to ſupport theſe meaſures of Richard, but the army prevailed; the parliament was diſſolved by their me⯑naces, and the Protector again reduced to a private ſtation. The officers, once more being thus left to themſelves, determined to replace the remnant of the old parliament which had beheaded the King, and which the late Protector had ſo diſgracefully diſmiſſ⯑ed. This was called The good old cauſe; and ſuch of the higher officers as ſeemed unwilling to give up their authority to this parliament, were intimidated by their ſubalterns into a compliance.

[56] The Rump parliament, as it was called, being thus once again eſtabliſhed, began by vigorouſly at⯑tempting to leſſen the power of that very army which had juſt now given them all their authority. They new-modelled a part of the forces, caſhiered ſuch of⯑ficers as they feared, and placed others in their room. Theſe attempts, however, did not paſs without vigo⯑rous efforts in the principal officers who were at London to oppoſe them. They held ſeveral conferences together to ſtrengthen their power, and leſſen that of their oppoſers. They at length came to the uſual reſource of theſe turbulent times; they firſt preſented a ſe⯑ditious petition; and, upon finding it rejected, con⯑ducted by general Lambert, they entered the houſe, excluded the members, diſſolved the parliament by their own authority, and formed a council of ten to provide for the ſafety of the commonwealth. Dur⯑ing theſe tranſactions, general Monck was at the head of twelve thouſand veterans in Scotland. Monck had begun his fortunes under the command of the late King, and was taken priſoner in his ſervice. Upon the death of his Maſter he was releaſed from his long confinement to command under Cromwell, for whom he always fought with conduct and ſuc⯑ceſs.

In this anarchy and confuſion he ſeemed agitated by different deſigns, between loyalty to his lawful King, ambition to advance himſelf, and the appre⯑henſions he was under from the governing part of the nation; his loyalty at length prevailed; he re⯑ſolved to reſtore the royal family, but to uſe all the precautions that were requiſite for their ſafety and his own. He ſoon had an opportunity of embarraſ⯑ſing the affairs of the nation ſtill more, to prepare the way for her meditated revolution. The officers, now formed into a council of ten, had ſent to treat with him; he conſented to a negotiation only in or⯑der to gain time; and after a treaty had been actu⯑ally [57] ſigned by thoſe he employed in this buſineſs, he refuſed to ratify it upon frivolous pretences. The depoſed parliament, finding that Monck had diſap⯑proved of the proceedings of the officers at London, were reſolved to avail themſelves of his friendſhip, in order to be reinſtated in their former authority; and ſent him a private commiſſion, appointing him com⯑mander in chief of all the forces in England, Scot⯑land, and Ireland. He now therefore reſolved to march towar [...]s London, and upon his approach the officers wh [...] had depoſed the parliament found them⯑ſelves almoſt deſerted, and at length compelled to re⯑ſign the authority they had uſurped. When he reached St. Alban's, he ſent a letter to the houſe, deſiring that London ſhould be cleared of all other troops to make way for his approach. This demand awakened the ſuſpicion of the parliament, but they were reluctantly obliged to comply. He entered London in triumph at the head of his army, and re⯑paired to the council of ſtate, but refuſed taking the oath of abjuration, ſhrewdly obſerving that the fewer oaths were taken, the cleaner would the conſciences be. He next examined his officers, and, having ſe⯑cured their concurrence, he reſtored thoſe members to the parliament which long ſince had been ſecluded before the trial of the King.

The Independants, who had voted for the trial of Charles, were now greatly out-numbered; and it was ſoon ſeen that the royal party was likely to pre⯑vail. The republicans, who, though they hated a Pro⯑tector, ſtill more feared the royal reſentment, endea⯑voured to perſuade Monck to aſſume the ſovereign power, in imitation of Cromwell. He rejected their advice, and in the mean time gave the King private intimations of his deſigns, new-modelled the army, quelled an incipient inſurrection, and prepared all things for his reſtoration.

[58] Nothing now was wanting, but the authority and conſent of a free parliament, to ſettle the fluctuating conſtitution. On the twenty-fifth of April 1660, the new parliament met in both houſes, after the manner of their anceſtors. They immediately voted that the government ought to be veſted in a King, Lords, and Commons. On the eighth of May Charles II. was proclaimed in London; on the twenty-ſixth he arrived at Dover; on the twenty-ninth he reached Whitehall through an innumerable multitude of people, who rent the air with their ac⯑clamations. The wretched kingdom, long torn with faction, and oppreſſed by its own ſtruggles for free⯑dom, once more began to reſpire; fanaticiſm, with all its train of melancholy terrors and cruelties, was now diſpelled; the arts of peace began to return; but, unhappily, the arts of luxury entered in their train.

LETTER VIII.

IT will undoubtedly aſtoniſh poſterity, when they find a whole nation making theſe ſudden changes from abſolute liberty to the moſt ſubmiſſive obedi⯑ence; at one time almoſt unanimouſly declaring a⯑gainſt monarchy, and ſoon after, with the moſt un⯑bounded flattery, ſoliciting the ſhackles of arbitrary power. The parliament, which had before ſo vehe⯑mently oppoſed the late Monarch, poſſeſſed of every virtue, were now profuſe in their ſubmiſſions to his ſucceſſor, whoſe character ſtood in no manner of competition with that of his father.

They firſt ordained to have the bodies of Crom⯑well, Ireton, and Bradſhaw, dug from their graves, [59] and dragged to the place of execution; here they continued hanging the whole day, and then were interred under the gallows. Of thoſe who ſat in judgment on the late Monarch's trial, ſome were dead, and ſome were thought worthy to find par⯑don; ten only out of fourſcore were devoted to im⯑mediate deſtruction. Theſe were enthuſiaſts, who had all along acted from principle, and bore their fate with all the confidence of martyrs. They had been formerly cruel themſelves, and they were now in turn treated with ſhocking inhumanity; the exe⯑cutioners, not content with performing the office of death, added inſult to their tortures; the ſuffer⯑ers, to a man, thanked God for being permitted to die for his cauſe, and braved the fury of their oppreſ⯑ſors with manly contempt.

Their deaths ſeemed to inſpire a few deſperate en⯑thuſiaſts with the moſt ſtrange confidence that ever deluded a poor ignorant party. One Venner, who expected the immediate coming of Chriſt upon earth, appeared in the ſtreets of London in arms, at the head of threeſcore enthuſiaſts like himſelf, and de⯑clared againſt any other Monarch but King Jeſus. They had been wrought into ſuch a pitch of phrenzy as to believe themſelves invulnerable, and fought as men confident of victory. The few ſurvivors of their defeat were taken, tried, condemned, and executed: they affirmed to the laſt, that, if they had been de⯑ceived, the Lord himſelf concurred in the impoſture.

It was now feared that the tide of loyalty would bear down all the ſormer mounds of freedom; the par⯑liament ſeemed to concur in all the deſigns of the court, and even to anticipate its wiſhes; but, though the King was eſtabliſhed, his old faithful friends, and the followers of his family, were left unrewarded. There were numbers who had fought for his father, and for him, and had loſt their all in his ſervice, ſtill pining in want and miſery; while their perſecutors, [60] who, prefiting by the troubles of their country, had acquired fortunes during the civil war, were ſtill per⯑mitted to enjoy them without moleſtation. The ſuf⯑ferers petitioned in vain; Charles was no way re⯑markable for gratitude; his pleaſures, his flatterers, and concubines engroſſed all his attention, and ex⯑hauſted his finances; the unhappy Cavaliers murmur⯑ed without redreſs; he fled from their gloomy expo⯑ſtulations to ſcenes of mirth, riot, and feſtivity.

The kingdom now ſeemed to be converted into a theatre of debauchery, which had before been a ſcene of blood. The Independants were no longer to be ſeen; the Puritans were reſtrained; the hor⯑rors of the late war were the ſubject of ridicule; the formality and the ignorance of ſectaries were diſ⯑played upon the ſtage, and even laughed at in the pulpit. The King had no religion; and, though he permitted the perſecution of ſectaries, it was merely from political motives. The late miſeries of the na⯑tion were not ſufficient to deter a few deſperate fana⯑ties from attempting to excite them afreſh; they laid a ſcheme for ſurpriſing ſeveral towns in the North, and raiſing a general inſurrection; the mini⯑ſtry diſcovered the plot, before it was ripe for execu⯑tion; thirty of the conſpirators were taken and exe⯑cuted; and this plot was a pretext for continuing the parliament then ſitting, and repealing the act for triennial parliaments, as being dangerous in times of commotion.

The Engliſh parliament ſeemed willing to make the King reparation for their former diſobedience, and the Scotch were ſtill more ſanguine in the ex⯑preſſions of their attachment. Had Charles been an active Monarch, he might have now become an ab⯑ſolute one. They confirmed the doctrine of paſſive obedience by a ſolemn act; they aſſigned him a re⯑venue of twelve hundred thouſand pounds, excluſive of the expence neceſſary for ſitting and ſupplying [61] the fleet. None of his predeceſſors were ever poſſeſſed of ſuch a large revenue; nevertheleſs, his prodigality rendered him indigent, and, inſtead of deſiring an aſ⯑cendancy over his parliament, he was content to be an humble and continual dependant on their bounty.

His prodigality, his libertiniſm, and the familiarity with which he permitted himſelf to be treated by his ſubjects, ſoon began to alter their ſentiments from a veneration for royalty to a contempt of his perſon and adminiſtration. He declared war againſt Hol⯑land, merely to have an opportunity of ſpending up⯑on his pleaſures. a part of thoſe ſums granted him by parliament for the ſupport of a fleet and army. This war was carried on with doubtful ſucceſs; but the alarm which the nation received from Ruyter the Dutch Admiral's attempting to ſail up the river Thames, ſtill more diſguſted them againſt their go⯑vernor. Immediate dangers, though ſmall, influ⯑ence the mind with greater force than diſtant, though terrible calamities. They now called to mind the adminiſtration of Cromwell, when the people en⯑joyed ſecurity at home, and were reſpected abroad; they recollected that vigorous Uſurper's labours for the good of the nation, and compared them with thoſe of the preſent effeminate and unſucceſsful reign.

Natural and accidental calamities ſeemed to unite themſelves to thoſe brought on by bad management. A plague ravaged the city, which ſwept away more than one hundred thouſand of its inhabitants; and ſoon after the city was almoſt entirely deſtroyed by a conflagration, which raged for three days without intermiſſion. The ſpirit of the people ſoon ſurmount⯑ed theſe calamities; London ſoon roſe more beauti⯑ful from its aſhes; the ſtreets were built anew more ſpacious and convenient than before; and their di⯑ſtreſs ſoon became their advantage.

[62] But neither war, nor accident, nor the murmurs of the people could abate the paſſion for gallantry, pleaſure, and expence, that reigned through the court through the King's example. He had imbibed all that ſpirit of levity, during his reſidence in France, for which that kingdom is remarkable. Though he had been married ſoon after his reſtoration to the Infanta of Portugal, he kept ſeveral miſtreſſes, by whom he had natural iſſue. Among this number were mada⯑moiſelle Queroüaille, a French woman, whom he created Ducheſs of Portſmouth; Mrs. Palmer, whom he made a Counteſs; and Nel Gwyn and Mrs. Davis, actreſſes taken from the theatre.

But, though the court was thus loſt to decency, the paſſion for uniformity in religion in the nation ſeemed to revive. The parliament was equally ſet againſt the Preſbyterians and the Papiſts; an act was made called the Teſt act, importing that every perſon in office and employment ſhould take the oaths of al⯑iegiance and ſupremacy, receive the ſacrament in ſome pariſh church before competent witneſſes, and ſubſcribe a declaration, renouncing the doctrine of tranſubſtantiation. This was levelled againſt the Duke of York, the King's brother, who had pro⯑feſſed himſelf a Papiſt, and whom the parliament ſe⯑cretly aimed at excluding from the throne. The fears and diſcontents of the nation were vented with⯑out reſtraint; the apprehenſions of a Popiſh ſucceſ⯑ſor, an abandoned court, a parliament that had con⯑tinued, without a new election, for ſeventeen years; an alliance cemented with France, the ſecret enemy of England and the Proteſtant religion; and an un⯑ſucceſsful and expenſive war with Holland, their na⯑tural allies; all gave cauſe to kindle a ſpirit of indig⯑nation among the people. The court tried every method, but in vain, to ſatisfy theſe murmurs, or ap⯑peaſe them. Even the coffee-houſes were ſuppreſſed where ſuch topics were generally debated.

[63] This univerſal ferment, as may eaſily be imagin⯑ed, broke out into an alarm. When the ſpirit of the Engliſh is once excited, they either find objects of reſentment, or they make them. A rumour of a Popiſh conſpiracy was firſt propagated, and one Titus Oates ſoon appeared to give it confirmation. Titus Oates had been from his youth an indigent and infa⯑mous adventurer. He was abandoned, illiterate, and ſhameleſs. He had been once indicted for perjury, afterwards chaplain of a man of war, and diſmiſſed for unnatural practices. He then profeſſed himſelf a Roman Catholic, went to the Jeſuits College at St. Omer, but was diſmiſſed, after ſome reſidence there, with infamy. He then returned to London, filled with projects of revenge; and the animoſities of this unhappy nation ſoon appeared a proper place of nou⯑riſhment to give this viper's virulence effect. He depoſed upon oath, that the Jeſuits, ſeveral of whom he named, and who were ſoon after taken up, had tried the King under the name of the Black Baſtard, condemned him as an heretic, and reſolved to de⯑prive him of life: that ſeveral attempts had been made without ſucceſs, and that not only the King's brother, but even the Queen were privy to the de⯑ſign. The houſe of commons immediately took fire at this pretended conſpiracy; they petitioned for re⯑moving the Queen, rewarded Oates with a penſion of twelve hundred pounds, and immediately ordered the conſpirators to be tried in the courts of juſtice. Se⯑veral Jeſuits were tried; their very profeſſion was at that time ſufficient to deſtroy them; before a partial Judge and an exaſperated Jury, no mercy could be expected, and ſeveral, though apparently innocent, were executed as traytors upon this miſcreant's in⯑formation. Coleman, the Duke of York's ſecretary, Ireland, Pickering, Grove, Fenwick, and White-bread were among the firſt that fell; they died de⯑claring [64] their innocence to the laſt moment of their lives.

While the Proteſtants were labouring to humble both the Puritans and the Papiſts, thoſe two parties were at the ſame time mutually employed in ruining each other. Plot was ſet againſt plot; that con⯑trived by Oates was called the Jeſuits; that ſet to oppoſe it was called by the name of the Meal⯑tub Plot, as the ſcheme of the conſpiracy was found hidden in a meal-tub. This was a deſign againſt Oates, for his perjuries had drawn upon him the furious reſentment of the Catholic party; they were determined to take away his life by the ſame falſe evidence by which he had taken the lives of ſo many others.

Of all theſe plots tending to diſturb the peace of the kingdom, it is ſaid the Earl of Shafteſbury was at the bottom; he had been a member of the Long Parliament in the civil wars, and had gained great influence among the Preſbyterians; he had inſinu⯑ated himſelf into the confidence of Cromwell, and afterwards employed his credit in forwarding the re⯑ſtoration. He had been made one of the privy⯑council in the preſent reign, but was ejected thence for the duplicity of his conduct. He was poſſeſſed of uncommon abilities, joined with turbulence, diſ⯑ſimulation, and unbounded ambition. It was thought that this nobleman, in revenge for his diſgrace at court, headed the demagogue faction, and alarmed the King with unceaſing dangers.

He artfully increaſed the people's apprehenſions of a Popiſh ſucceſſor, and, by his intereſt, brought a bill into the houſe of commons for the excluſion of James Duke of York from the ſucceſſion. In the national animoſity raiſed againſt Papiſts it was no dif⯑ficult matter to have it paſſed through the houſe of commons; but, being preſented to the houſe of peers, it was thrown out by a great majori [...]y.

[65] The commons were greatly incenſed at this re⯑pulſe, but particularly their anger fell upon the Earl of Halifax, who exerted himſelf in the oppoſition. Halifax diſregarded their anger, ſecure in conſcious innocence. But their rage fell with more weight upon Lord Stafford, who had long been a priſoner in the Tower, upon the depoſition of Oates. Not⯑withſtanding his age, his weak intellects, and the juſtneſs of his defence, he was arraigned, condemn⯑ed, and executed for a plot which had its only foun⯑dation in perjury and ſubornation. All things threat⯑ened a renewal of the former troubles from which the kingdom had been but lately ſet free. The commons preſented petition after petition to the King, deſiring the puniſhment of Papiſts, and the abridgment of the royal prerogative. They ſeemed willing to intimidate the King, or to inflame the nation. At length Charles ſhewed a degree of for⯑titude that ſurprized even his friends; he rejected their petitions with contempt, and diſſolved the par⯑liament that had abuſed their power.

The ſtate of the nation at that time, with regard to religion, was thus: The principal men at court, if they profeſſed any, were of the eſtabliſhed church; ſo were all the men of great property, as well as the dregs of the people; but that body of men who voted at elections, placed between a ſtate of opulence and penury, were in general Preſbyterians. They were therefore willing to return repreſentatives only of that perſuaſion.

Charles, however, was reſolved to try one parlia⯑ment more, and appointed them to meet him at Ox⯑ford, the city of London having long been diſpleaſing, by reaſon of their republican principles. The new parliament, however, ſeemed ſtill more turbulent than the former; the members came armed, and attended by their friends and adherents, as if they expected to fight, and not deliberate. The repreſentatives of [66] London were in particular attended by a numerous body of horſemen, wearing cockades, inſcribed, ‘No Popery, no Slavery.’ To declaim againſt Popery was the voice of faction in the laſt reign, and ſuch it was in the preſent. The ſame ſpirit that had animated the former parliament, ſeemed redoubled in this. They inſiſted on the bill for excluding the Duke of York from the ſucceſſion; they perſiſted in declaring that all Papiſts ſhould be baniſhed, and their children educated in the Proteſtant religion; that the doctrine of paſſive obedience was injurious to the rights of ſociety. In a word, the leaders of the oppoſition were reſolved to be diſpleaſed with every meaſure the King could propoſe, and prepared to recall the for⯑mer ariſtocracy into the kingdom. Charles, ſeeing that nothing could be expected from counſels manag⯑ed by party, and not deliberation, once more diſſolv⯑ed this parliament, with a ſtedfaſt reſolution of never calling another.

This was a ſtroke they had never expected, and which the times alone could juſtify. From the mo⯑ment the royal and parliamentary commotions were ended, Charles ſeemed to rule with deſpotic power, and was reſolved to leave to his ſucceſſor the faults and the misfortunes of his adminiſtration. His tem⯑per, which had been always eaſy and merciful, be⯑came arbitrary, and even cruel; he entertained ſpies and informers round the throne, and impriſoned all ſuch as he thought moſt daring in their deſigns. He reſolved to humble the Preſbyterians; all ſuch were diveſted of their employments, and their places filled with ſuch as approved the doctrine of non-re⯑ſiſtance. The clergy teſtified their zeal to the court by their writings and ſermons; the partizans of the King were moſt numerous; but thoſe of the oppoſite faction were more enterpriſing; the mutual animo⯑fity of each was inflamed into rage and rancour, and the King openly declared himſelf at the head of a [67] faction. The city of London particularly fell under his reſentment; he deprived them of their charter, and only reſtored it when he had ſubjected the elec⯑tion of their magiſtrates to his immediate authority.

Such an arbitrary adminiſtration could not fail of exciting new inſurrections; ſeveral noblemen, among whom were the Duke of Monmouth, the King's na⯑tural ſon, the Lord Shafteſbury, Ruſſel, Grey, and others, entered into a combination to deſtroy the King, which was called after the Rye-houſe plot. The conſpirators met at the houſe of one Shepherd, a wine-merchant, where they propoſed a riſing in London, Briſtol, Devonſhire, and Cheſhire. They agreed upon a declaration for juſtifying their deſign, but the ſcheme was at firſt delayed from the difficulty of the preparations previous to taking the field, and ſoon after diſcovered by one Keiling, who expected to earn a pardon for himſelf by impeaching his aſſo⯑ciates. As the plot began to open, new informers came in; Monmouth abſconded, Grey eſcaped the meſſenger who had been ſent to arreſt him, Ruſſel was committed to the Tower, and Shafteſbury, who foreſaw the danger, had taken refuge in Holland. Lord Eſſex, Sidney, the great philoſopher and law⯑giver, and Hampden, grandſon of the famous man of that name, were informed againſt, and committed to confinement.

The principal informer upon this occaſion was Lord Howard, a man every way debauched, and who was willing to accept infamy for ſafety: by his evidence Ruſſel and Sidney were condemned, and died with that intrepidity which was worthy a bet⯑ter cauſe. While theſe men were thus executed, Monmouth was in the mean time ſoliciting his par⯑don; and he who was moſt culpable, as his crime was moſt unnatural, eaſily obtained it.

The ſeverities exerciſed in the latter part of this reign aroſe merely from the influence of the Duke [68] of York, who was as much inclined to cruelty by nature, as his brother Charles was prone to forgive⯑neſs. His authority was become terrible even to the miniſtry; by his advice the King ſeized upon all the charters of the corporations, in order to extort mo⯑ney for having them renewed. Partiality and op⯑preſſion were the inſtruments of his power, and bi⯑gotry and innovation the objects of his aim. At this period the reign of Charles was as abſolute as that of any Monarch in Chriſtendom, and new diſ⯑contents and treaſons were ſecretly diffuſing their poiſon, the ſpirit of liberty ſtill ſtruggling hard againſt the ſpirit of obedience, which the clergy at⯑tempted to inculcate. Another civil war threatened the nation, ſtill more dreadful than the former, as the forces were more equally divided. But Charles happily died before thoſe calamities could return; he was ſuddenly ſeized with an apoplectic fit, in the fifty-fourth year of his age, and the twenty-fifth of his reign. The people, though they deſpiſed his ad⯑miniſtration, loved his perſon; they were willing to bear with the faults of one whoſe whole behaviour was a continued inſtance of good-nature and affabi⯑lity; but they were by no means willing to grant the ſame indulgence to his ſucceſſor, whom they hated for his pride, his religion, his cruelty, and connections. He was unfit to walk in the irregular ſteps of his predeceſſor; and, when he purſued the ſame route, fatal experience ſoon convinced him that he had at once miſtaken himſelf and the people he attempted to command.

But, though England, during the reign of Charles, ſeemed ſtill, in ſome meaſure, agitated like the ocean after a ſtorm, yet commerce continued to increaſe with its uſual celerity and ſucceſs. The manufac⯑ture of certain ſtuffs, glaſs, copper, ſteel, paper, hats, and ſtockings, were now brought to perfec⯑tion. Upon the baniſhing the Proteſtants from [69] France, numbers came and ſettled here, and brought their arts with them. This application to arts and commerce gave England great weight in the balance of Europe; Britain became the center of politics and arms. Though literature was but little encouraged by the Sovereign, yet the learned made great profi⯑ciency in every department of ſcience; and the philoſophers of England began to take the lead. Newton, Tillotſon, Burnet, Hobbes, and Shafteſ⯑bury enlarged the land-marks of human knowledge; Butler, Dryden, Otway, gave ſtrength and proprie⯑ty to the language. In a word, the character of the nation now began to alter; the natural rudeneſs of the inhabitants began to take a poliſh from good breeding, and Britiſh ferocity to meliorate into cha⯑rity and humanity.

LETTER IX.

AS we deſcend, we find the materials for Engliſh hiſtory increaſe; the minuteſt tranſactions are recorded with prolixity; and theſe, however dry and unimproving to ſome, are yet both intereſting and ſatisfactory to others. In ſuch a profuſion of mate⯑rials I muſt be content rather to give the ſpirit of the following reigns, than pretend to exhibit an hi⯑ſtorical detail of particular intereſts and intrigues. It will be enough to mark thoſe ſtrong out-lines that may probably eſcape the wreck of time, when the internal colouring ſhall fade. As hiſtory increaſes in time by the addition of new events, an epitome becomes more neceſſary to abridge its excreſcences.

The Duke of York, who ſucceeded his brother, with the title of King James the Second, had been bred a Papiſt, and was ſtrongly bigotted to his prin⯑ciples. [70] It is the property of that religion, almoſt ever, to contract the ſphere of the underſtanding; and, until people are, in ſome meaſure, diſengaged from its prejudices, it is impoſſible to lay a juſt claim to extenſive views, or conſiſtency of deſign. The intellects of this Prince were naturally weak, and his bigotted principles ſtill rendered them more fee⯑ble; he conceived the ridiculous project of reigning in the ſame arbitrary manner of his predeceſſor, and changing the eſtabliſhed religion of his country, at a time when his perſon was hated, and the eſtabliſh⯑ed religion was univerſally approved.

The people of England were now entirely changed from what they had been in the times of Henry, Mary, and Elizabeth, who had altered religion at will. Learning was now as much cultivated by the laity as by the prieſthood; every man now pretended to think for himſelf, and had rational grounds for his opinion. In the beginning of the reformation the Monarchs had only to bring over the clergy, in order totally to change the modes of belief, for the people were entirely guided by their paſtors. To influence the prieſthood was an eaſy taſk. The hopes of preferment, or the fears of degradation, entirely ſubjected the conſciences of the clergy to the royal will. Such it was then; but the circum⯑ſtances of the nation were, at preſent, entirely al⯑tered; and, to make a change in religion, it would have been neceſſary to tamper with every individual in the ſtate. But James had no idea of the alter⯑ation of circumſtances; his ſituation, he thought, ſupplied him with authority, and his zeal furniſhed him with hope of accompliſhing this chimerical de⯑ſign.

The ſucceſs he met with in cruſhing a rebellion, in the opening of his reign, ſeemed to promiſe a favourable omen towards the completion of his wiſhes. The Duke of Monmouth, who had long [71] been at the head of faction, and inflamed all the diſcontent that moleſted the late King's reign, was now reſolved to aim at the crown. He was the darl⯑ing of the people; and ſome averred that the King had married his mother, and owned his legitimacy at his death. The Earl of Argyle ſeconded his views, and they formed a ſcheme of a double inſur⯑rection. Argyle firſt landed in Scotland, publiſhed his manifeſtoes, put himſelf at the head of two thou⯑ſand five hundred men, and attempted to influence the nation; but, a formidable body of the King's forces coming againſt him, his army fell away, and he himſelf, after being wounded in attempting to eſcape, was taken by a peaſant, ſtanding up to his neck in water. Being brought to Edinburgh, he prepared for death, well knowing that it was not in the King's nature to forgive an enemy.

The Duke of Monmouth was not more fortunate; he ſailed from the Texel with three veſſels, and ar⯑rived on the coaſts of Dorſetſhire with about four⯑ſcore followers. The country ſoon flocked in to his ſtandard, and in two days his army was increaſed to two thouſand men. The Earl of Feverſham was ſent to oppoſe him, and took poſt at Sedgemore, a village in Somerſetſhire. Monmouth reſolved to fight him, and began his march about eleven in the night, with profound ſilence; but the Royaliſts were prepared for his reception. The action began at day-break; Lord Grey, who commanded the Duke of Monmouth's horſe, was routed at the firſt onſet. The Duke, at the head of his infantry, bravely maintained his ground until he was charged in flank by the enemy's horſe, who had been juſt now victo⯑rious. A total rout enſued; three hundred were killed in the engagement, and a thouſand in the purſuit. The Duke eſcaped the carnage, and, in a ſhepherd's diſguiſe, fled on foot, attended by a faith⯑ful companion, who had followed his fortunes into [72] England. Thus they travelled onward towards Dor⯑ſetſhire, till, quite exhauſted with hunger and fa⯑tigue, they lay down in a field, and covered them⯑ſelves with ſtubble. In this forlorn ſituation he was found, with ſome peaſe in his pocket, which he had gathered in the fields to ſuſtain life. His ſpirit ſunk with his misfortunes; he wrote to the King; im⯑plored his mercy; the King gave him an audience, as if willing to ſatisfy his vengeance with the ſight of a rival's miſery. But his death was determined, and no intreaties could extort royal clemency. On the ſeaffold he reſumed his former courage, handled the ax, declared that he meant well to the nation, and his head was cut off, but not till after the third blow.

But it were happy for the nation, and fortunate for the King, if the blood that was already ſhed had been thought a ſufficient explation for the late offence. The victorious army behaved with the moſt ſavage cruelty to the priſoners taken after the battle. Their inhumanity was properly ſeconded by Jefferies, who was ſent on the weſtern circuit to try the inſurgents. His furious thirſt of blood being inflamed by continual intoxication, he threatened, calumniated, and threw aſide even the appearance of clemency. Men and women indiſcrimately felt the effects of his ſavage zeal; and not leſs than two hundred and fifty perſons expired under circum⯑ſtances of wanton cruelty. Cruel Kings ever find cruel miniſters.

It was not to be expected, that theſe butcheries could acquire the King the love or the confidence of his people, or tend to alter their opinions, as they rather excited the ſecret abhorrence of every honeſt man. Yet he thought this a time favourable for the carrying on his ſcheme of religion and ar⯑bitrary government. An attempt at arbitrary power in Charles was, in ſome meaſure, excuſable, as he [73] had a republican faction to oppoſe; and it might have been prudent, at that time, to overſtep juſtice, in order to attain ſecurity; but the ſame deſigns in James were as unneceſſary as impracticable, ſince there were few republicans remaining, and the people were ſatisfied with limited monarchy. But this weak and deluded Monarch was reſolved to imitate one or two Princes of Europe, who had juſt before rendered themſelves abſolute; and he was incited to this project by Lewis XIV, who ſecretly deſired his de⯑ſtruction. Thus inſtigated, he began his deſigns with the meaſures which he ſhould not have uſed till their completion. He ſent a ſplendid embaſſy to Rome, to acknowledge his obedience to the Pope. Innocent, who then filled the chair, was too good a politician to approve thoſe childiſh meaſures, and gave his ambaſſador a very cool reception. He was ſenſible that the King was openly ſtriking at thoſe laws and opinions which it was his buſineſs to un⯑dermine in ſilence and ſecurity. The Cardinals were even heard facetiouſly to declare, ‘that the King ſhould be excommunicated for thus endeavouring to over⯑turn the ſmall remains of Popery that yet ſubſiſted in England.’

James, notwithſtanding his diſcouragements, was yet reſolved to proſecute his favourite ſcheme with vigour. Upon every occaſion the Catholics ſhared his confidence and favour. Hugh Peters, his con⯑feſſor, ruled his conſcience, and drove him blindly forward to attempt innovation. He became every day more and more ambitious of making converts; the Earl of Sunderland ſacrificed his religion to his ambition; the Earl of Rocheſter loſt his employ⯑ment of treaſurer for refuſing to alter his religion. The King ſtooped ſo low as to his officers; a rough ſoldier one day anſwered his remonſtrances by ſay⯑ing that he was pre-engaged, for he had promiſed the King of Morocco, when he was quartered at [74] Tangiers, that, ſhould he ever change his religion, he would turn Mahometan.

An Eccleſiaſtical Court was erected, with power to puniſh all delinquents, or ſuch ſo reputed by the court, with all manner of eccleſiaſtical cenſures. Before this court was ſummoned the Vice-chancellor of Cambridge, for having refuſed to admit one Francis, a Benedictine Monk, to the degree of ma⯑ſter of arts; the Vice-chancellor was deprived of his office, but the univerſity perſiſted in their re⯑fuſal, and the King thought proper to deſiſt from his purpoſe. The Vice-preſident and fellows of Magda⯑len-college in Oxford were treated with more ſeve⯑rity. They refuſed to admit one Farmer, a new convert, and one of a profligate life, who was nominated by the King to the place of Preſident, now become vacant. The King next nominated Parker, Biſhop of Oxford; but he was equally ob⯑noxious for the ſame reaſons. The King repaired in perſon to Oxford; he reproached the fellows with inſolence and diſobedience; but neither he, nor his miniſters, could prevail to alter the reſolutions of this ſociety. The fellows were expelled by his or⯑der, and their places filled with Papiſts, who he knew would be more obedient to his commands.

His deſigns hitherto were ſufficiently manifeſt; but he was now reſolved entirely to throw off the maſk. By his permiſſion the Pope's Nuncio made his public entry into Windſor in his pontificals, pre⯑ceded by the croſs, and attended by a great num⯑ber of monks in the habit of their reſpective orders. He next publiſhed a declaration for liberty of con⯑ſcience, by which all reſtraints upon Popery were taken away. The Church of England took the alarm; the peculiar animoſity of the people againſt the Catholic religion proceeded not leſs from reli⯑gious than temporal motives. It is the ſpirit of that [75] religion to favour arbitrary power, and its reproach to encourage perſecution. The Engliſh had too oſten ſmarted under both to be willing again to ſub⯑mit to either. Seven Biſhops, who had received the King's expreſs orders to cauſe this declaration of liberty of conſcience to be read in their churches, refuſed to comply. They drew up a modeſt petition to excuſe their refuſal, which only ſerved to increaſe the King's reſentment and rage. They were cited before the council, and ſtill adhered to their former reſolution with that firmneſs which is the characteriſtic of vir⯑tue. The Attorney-general was ordered to proſe⯑cute them for publiſhing ſedition, and abridging the King's prerogative. They were committed priſoners to the Tower, conducted thither amidſt the prayers and condolence of an incredible multitude of the populace, who regarded them as ſufferers for truth. The day appointed for their tryal arrived; this cauſe was looked upon as the criſis of Engliſh freedom; the council managed the debate on both ſides with learning and candour; the jury withdrew into a chamber, where they paſſed the whole night, but next morning returned into court, and declared the Biſhops not guilty. The joy of the people, on this occaſion, was inexpreſſible; the whole city, and the country around, ſeemed at once to catch the ſhouts of exultation; they even reached the camp, where the King was then ſitting at dinner, who heard them with indignation and amazement.

If the Biſhops teſtified the readineſs of martyrs, in ſupport of their religion, James ſhewed no leſs obſtinacy in his attempts towards the eſtabliſhment of his own. Finding the clergy averſe to his de⯑ſigns, he next tried what he could do with the army. He thought, if one regiment would promiſe implicit obedience, their example would ſoon induce others to the ſame compliance. He ordered one of the re⯑giments to be drawn up in his preſence, and deſired [76] that ſuch as were againſt his late declaration of li⯑berty ſhould lay down their arms. He was ſurprized to ſee the whole battalion ground their arms, except two officers and a few Roman Catholic ſoldiers.

Oppoſition only ſerved to increaſe the infatuated Monarch's zeal; he was continually ſtimulated by his Queen and his prieſts to proceed raſhly onward. But he was particularly urged on by the Jeſuit Pe⯑ters, his confeſſor, an ambitious and intriguing prieſt, whom ſome hiſtorians have even accuſed of being the creature of the Prince of Orange, the King's ſon-in-law, who had long ſince conceived hopes of ſeizing the crown. James now, therefore, iſſued orders for proſecuting all thoſe clergymen who had forborne to read his declaration. He placed one Gifford, a Doctor of the Sorbonne, at the head of Magdalen College, and likewiſe nominated him to the ſee of Oxford, lately become vacant. Every member of the Church of England now ſaw their danger; and Whigs and Tories united their efforts to oppoſe it.

William, Prince of Orange, had married Mary the daughter of King James. This Prince had been early immerſed in danger, calamities, and politics; the deſigns of France, and the turbulence of Hol⯑land, had ſerved to ſharpen his talents, and given him a propenſity for intrigue. This great politician and ſoldier concealed beneath a phlegmatic appear⯑ance, a moſt violent and boundleſs ambition, all his actions were levelled at power, while his diſcourſe ne⯑ver betrayed the wiſhes of his heart. His temper was cold and ſevere, his genius active and piercing; he was valiant without oſtentation, and politic without addreſs; diſdaining the pleaſures, or the elegancies of life, yet eager after the phantom of pre-eminence. He was no ſtranger to the murmurs of the Engliſh, and was reſolved to turn them to his intereſt. He [77] therefore accepted the invitations of the nobility and others, and ſtill more willingly embarked in the cauſe, as he found the malecontents had concerted their meaſures with prudence and ſecrecy.

A fleet was equipped ſufficient to tranſport fifteen thouſand troops; and it was at firſt given out that this armament was deſigned againſt France. James, at length, began to ſee his own errors and the diſ⯑contents of the people; he would now have retracted his meaſures in favour of Popery, but it was too late; the fleet of the Prince was already ſailed, and had landed thirteen thouſand troops at the village of Broxholme in Torbay.

The expectations of the Prince of Orange ſeemed, at firſt, to be fruſtrated; very few Engliſhmen of⯑fered him their ſervices, though the people were, in general, well affected to his deſign. Slight repulſes were not ſufficient to intimidate a general who had, from early youth, encountered adverſity; he conti⯑nued ten days in expectation of being joined by the malecontents without ſucceſs; but, juſt when he be⯑gan to deliberate about reimbarking his forces, he was joined by ſeveral perſons of conſequence, and the country people came flocking to his ſtandard. From this day his numbers began to increaſe; the nobility, which had compoſed the court and council of King James, now left their old Maſter to ſolicit protection from the new.

Lewis XIV. had long foreſeen this defection, and had formerly offered the King thirty thouſand men for his ſecurity. This was then refuſed by James, by the advice of Sunderland, his favourite, who was ſecretly in the intereſts of the Prince of Orange. James, however, now requeſted aſſiſtance from France, when it was too late for his ſervice: he wrote in vain to Leopold, Emperor of Germany, who only returned for anſwer, that what he had foreſeen had happened. He had ſome dependence on his fleet, [78] but they were entirely diſaffected. In a word, his intereſts were deſerted by all; for he had long de⯑ſerted them himſelf. He was at the head of an army of twenty thouſand men, and it is poſſible that, had he led them to the combat without granting them time for deliberation, they might have fought in his favour; but he was involved in a maze of fears and ſuſpicions; the defection of thoſe he moſt con⯑fided in took away his power of deliberation, and his perplexity was increaſed, when told that the Prince of Denmark and Anne, his favourite daughter, had gone over to the Prince of Orange. In this exigence he could not repreſs his tears, but in the agony of his heart was heard to exclaim, ‘God help me, my own children have forſaken me.’

He now hung over the precipice of deſtruction! invaded by one ſon-in-law, abandoned by another, hated by his ſubjects, and deteſted by thoſe who had ſuffered beneath his cruelty. He aſſembled the few noblemen who ſtill adhered to his intereſts, and de⯑manded their advice and aſſiſtance. Addreſſing him⯑ſelf to the Earl of Bedford, father to Lord Ruſſel, who was beheaded by James's intrigues in the pre⯑ceding reign, ‘My Lord, ſaid he, you are an honeſt man, have great credit, and can do me ſignal ſervice.’ ‘Ah, Sir, replied the Earl, I am old and feeble, I can do you but little ſervice; but I once had a ſon that could have aſſiſted you, but he is no more.’ James was ſo ſtruck with this reply, that he could not ſpeak for ſome minutes.

The King was naturally timid; and ſome counſel⯑lors about him, either ſharing his fears, or bribed by the Prince, contributed to increaſe his apprehenſions. They reminded him of the fate of Charles I, and ag⯑gravated the turbulence of the people. He was, at length, perſuaded to think of flying from a nation he could no longer govern, and of taking refuge at the court of France, where he was ſure of finding [79] aſſiſtance and protection. Thus inſtructed, he firſt ſent away his Queen, who arrived ſafely at Calais; and ſoon after, diſguiſing himſelf in a plain dreſs, he went down to Feverſham, and embarked on board a ſmall veſſel for France. His misfortunes ſtill con⯑tinued to follow him; the veſſel was detained by the common people, who not knowing their Sovereign, robbed, inſulted, and abuſed him. He was now per⯑ſuaded by the Earl of Winchelſea to return to Lon⯑don, where he was once more received amidſt the acclamations of the people.

The return of James was by no means agreeable to William, though he well knew how to diſſemble. It was his intereſt and his deſign to increaſe the for⯑ſaken Monarch's apprehenſions, ſo as to induce him to fly. He therefore received the news of his return with a haughty air, and ordered him to leave White⯑hall, and retire to Richmond. The King remon⯑ſtrated againſt Richmond, and deſired that Rocheſter might be appointed as the place of his abode. The Prince perceived his intention was to leave the king⯑dom; nor did one wiſh for flight more ardently than did the other deſire him away. The King ſoon con⯑curred with his deſigns: after ſtaying but a ſhort time at Rocheſter, he fled to the ſea-ſide, attended by his natural ſon the Duke of Berwick, where he embarked for France, and arrived in ſafety, to en⯑joy, for the reſt of life, the empty title of a King, and the appellation of a Saint, a title which ſtill flat⯑tered him more. Here he continued to reſide among a people who pitied, ridiculed, and deſpiſed him. He inrolled himſelf in the order of Jeſuits; and the court of Rome, for whom he had loſt all, repaid him only with indulgences and paſquinades.

From this moment the conſtitution of England, that had fluctuated for ſo many ages, was fixed. The nation, repreſented by its parliament, deter⯑mined [80] the long conteſted limits between the King and the people; they preſcribed to the Prince of Orange the terms by which he was to rule; they choſe him for King, jointly with Mary, who was the next Proteſtant heir to the crown. They were crowned with titles of William III. and Mary, King and Queen of England. The Prince ſaw his ambi⯑tion, at length, gratified; and his wiſdom was repaid with that crown which the folly of his predeceſſor had given away.

LETTER X.

THOUGH William was choſen King of Eng⯑land, his power was limited on every ſide; and the oppoſition he met with from his parliaments ſtill leſſened the regal authority. His ſway in Hol⯑land, where he was but the Stadtholder, was far more arbitrary; ſo that he might, with greater propriety, have been called the King of the United Provinces, and the Stadtholder of England. He was not ſuffi⯑ciently acquainted with the difficulty of governing the nation by which he was elected; he expected in them a people ready to ſecond the views of his am⯑bition in humbling France; but he found them more apt to fear for the invaſion of their domeſtic liberties from himſelf.

His reign commenced, however, with the ſame attempt which had been the principal cauſe of all the diſturbances in the preceding reign, and had ex⯑cluded the Monarch from the throne. William was a Calviniſt, and naturally 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, yet a tole⯑ration [81] was granted to ſuch Diſſenters as ſhould take the oaths of allegiance, and hold no private conven⯑ticles. The Papiſts alſo enjoyed the lenity of his government; and, though the laws againſt them con⯑tinued to ſubſiſt, yet they were ſeldom put into rigo⯑rous execution. What was criminal in James was virtuous in his ſucceſſor: James only wanted to in⯑troduce perſecution by pretending to diſown it; Wil⯑liam was averſe to perſecution from principle; and none ſuffered for religious opinions during his reign.

But, though William was acknowledged in Eng⯑land, Scotland was ſtill undetermined. The parlia⯑ment of that country, however, ſoon recognized his authority, and took that opportunity to aboliſh epiſ⯑copacy, which had been long diſagreeable to the na⯑tion. Nothing now remained to the depoſed Mo⯑narch, of all his former dominions, but Ireland. His cauſe was eſpouſed by all the Catholics of that coun⯑try, who were much more numerous there than thoſe of the Proteſtant perſuaſion. The King of France, either touched with compaſſion for his ſufferings, or willing to weaken a rival kingdom by internal diſ⯑ſenſions, granted James a fleet and ſome troops, to aſſert his claims there. On the ſeventh day of May this unhappy Monarch embarked at Breſt, and on the twenty-ſecond arrived at Kinſale. He was re⯑ceived by the Catholics of Ireland with open arms. The Proteſtants, who were unanimouſly attached to King William, had been previouſly diſarmed by Tyr⯑connel, their Lord-lieutenant, and a Papiſt. James made his public entry into Dublin amidſt the accla⯑mations of the inhabitants. He was met by a Popiſh proceſſion, bearing the hoſt, which he publicly adored; and this ſerved to alienate the few Proteſtants of that kingdom, who ſtill adhered to his cauſe. A ſmall party of that religion were reſolved to defend their lives and religion in the little city of London-derry. They were beſieged by the forces of King [82] James, and ſuffered all the complicated miſeries of war, famine, and bigotted cruelty; but, deter⯑mined never to yield, they rejected capitulation, and always repulſed the beſiegers with conſiderable loſs. At length, ſupplies and ſuccours arriving from Eng⯑land, King James's army thought proper to raiſe the ſiege.

The cruelties exerciſed upon the Proteſtants were as ſhocking as unneceſſary; ſoldiers were permitted to pillage them without redreſs; and they were com⯑pelled to accept baſe money in exchange for thoſe commodities they were forced to ſell. But their ſuf⯑ferings were ſoon to have a period. The Duke of Schomberg was ſent over, with aſſiſtance; and Wil⯑liam himſelf ſoon after followed, and landed at Car⯑rickfergus. He was met by numbers of the Proteſ⯑tants, who had fled from perſecution; and now, at the head of ſix-and-thirty thouſand men, he was re⯑ſolved to go in queſt of the enemy. Having march⯑ed to Dundalk, and then to Ardee, he, at length, came in ſight of the Iriſh army. The river Boyne lay between the two armies, the front of the Iriſh being ſecured by a moraſs and a riſing ground. Theſe obſtacles were inſufficient to prevent the ar⯑dour of William, who, when his friend the Duke of Schomberg expoſtulated upon the danger boldly, repli⯑ed, That a tardy victory would be worſe than a defeat. The Duke, finding his advice not reliſhed, retired to his tent in a melancholy manner, as if he had a preſcience of his own misfortune. Early in the morning, at ſix o'clock, King William gave orders to paſs the river; the army paſſed in three different places, and the battle began with unuſual vigour. The Iriſh troops, which have been reckoned the beſt in Europe abroad, have always fought indiffer⯑ently at home; they fled, after a long reſiſtance, with precipitation, and left the French and Swiſs regi⯑ments, who came to their aſſiſtance, to make the [83] beſt retreat they could. William led on his horſe in perſon, and contributed, by his activity and vigilance, to ſecure the victory. James was not in the battle, but ſtood aloof, during the action, on the hill of Dunmore, ſurrounded with ſome ſquadrons of horſe; and, at intervals, was heard to exclaim, when he ſaw his own troops repulſing the enemy, ‘O ſpare my Eng⯑liſh ſubjects.’ The Iriſh loſt about fifteen hundred men, and the Engliſh about one third of that num⯑ber; but the death of the Duke of Schomberg, who was ſhot as he was croſſing the water, ſeemed to out⯑weigh all the numbers of the enemy. He had been long a ſoldier of fortune, and fought under almoſt every power in Europe. His ſkill in war was un⯑paralleled, and his fidelity equal to his courage. The number of battles in which he had been per⯑ſonally engaged, was ſaid to equal the number of his years; and he died aged eighty-two. James fled, regardleſs of the ſafety of his ſoldiers. William rode round the ſcene of ſlaughter, relieving the wounded, as well of the enemy's troops as his own. O Regan, an old Iriſh captain, was heard to ſay upon this oc⯑caſion, That, if the Engliſh would exchange gene⯑rals, the conquered army would fight the battle over again.

This blow totally depreſſed the hopes of James; he fled to Dublin, adviſed the magiſtrates to get the beſt terms they could from the victor, then ſet out for Waterford, where he embarked for France, in a veſſel prepared for his reception. Had he poſſeſſed either conduct or courage, he might ſtill have headed his troops, and fought with advantage; but prudence forſook him with good fortune.

His friends were ſtill reſolved to ſecond his inter⯑eſts, though he had abandoned them himſelf. After his retreat, another deſperate battle was fought at Aughrim, in which his adverſaries were again victo⯑rious; Limeric, a ſtrong city in the ſouthern part of [84] the kingdom, ſtill held out in his favour. This city was beſieged, and made a brave defence; but, de⯑ſpairing of the King's fortunes, the garriſon, at length, capitulated; the Roman Catholics, by this capitulation, were reſtored to the enjoyment of ſuch liberty in the exerciſe of their religion, as they had poſſeſſed in the reign of Charles II; and about fourteen thouſand of thoſe who had fought in favour of King James, had permiſſion to go over to France, and tranſports were provided for their reception.

The conqueft oſ Ireland being thus completed, the only hopes of the fugitive King now depended on the aſſiſtance of Lewis XIV, who promiſed to make a deſcent upon England in his favour. The French King was punctual; he ſupplied the fugitive Monarch with an army conſiſting of a body of French troops, ſome Engliſh and Scotch refugees, and the Iriſh regiments which had been tranſported from Limeric into France, by long difcipline, now become excellent ſoldiers. This army was aſſembled between Cherbourg and La Hogue; King James commanded it in perſon; and more than three hundred tranſports were provided for landing it on the Engliſh ſhore. Tourville, the French admiral, at the head of ſixty-three ſhips of the line, was appointed to favour the deſcent, and had orders to attack the enemy, if they ſhould attempt to oppoſe him. All things conſpired to revive the hopes of the hitherto unfortunate King.

Theſe preparations on the ſide of France were ſoon known at the court of England, and precautions were taken for a vigorous oppoſition; all the ſecret machinations of the baniſhed King's adherents were early diſcovered to the Engliſh miniſtry by ſpies; and they took proper meaſures to defeat them. Ad⯑miral Ruſſel was ordered to put to ſea with all poſ⯑ſible expedition; and he ſoon appeared with ninety-nine ſhips of the line, beſides frigates and fireſhips. Both fleets met at La Hogue. On the ſucceſs of [85] this engagement all the hopes of James depended; but the victory was on the ſide of the Engliſh, and of num⯑bers; the fight continued ten hours, and the purſuit two days; fifteen French men of war were deſtroyed; and the blow was ſo deciſive, that from that time France ſeemed to relinquiſh her claims to the ocean.

James was now reduced to the loweſt ebb of de⯑ſpondence; his deſigns upon England were quite fruſtrated; nothing was now left his friends but ter⯑rors and deſpair, or the hopes of aſſaſſinating the Monarch on the throne. Theſe baſe attempts, as barbarous as they were uſeleſs, were not intirely diſ⯑agreeable to the temper of James: it is ſaid, he en⯑couraged and propoſed them; but they all ended in the deſtruction of their undertakers. He paſſed the reſt of his days at St. Germains, a penſioner on the bounties of Lewis, and aſſiſted by occaſional libera⯑lities from his daughter, and friends in England. He died in 1700, at St. Germains. Some pretend that miracles were wrought at his tomb. We have ſeen few depoſed Kings that have not died with a reputa⯑tion for ſanctity.

The defeat at La Hogue confirmed King William's ſafety and title to the crown: the Jacobites were now a feeble and a diſunited faction; new parties therefore aroſe among thoſe who had been friends of the revolution, and William found as much oppo⯑ſition from his parliament at home, as from the ene⯑my 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 his ambition to humble the French, whom he conſidered as the moſt formidable enemies of that liberty which he idolized; and all his politics lay in making alliances againſt them. Many of the Engliſh, on the other hand, had neither the ſame animoſity againſt the French, nor the ſame terrors of their increaſing power; they therefore conſidered the intereſts of the [86] nation as ſacrificed to foreign connections, and com⯑plained, that the war on the continent fell moſt hea⯑vily on them, though they had the leaſt intereſt in its ſucceſs. To theſe motives of diſcontent was added his partiality to his own countrymen, in pre⯑judice of Engliſh ſubjects, together with his proud reſerve and ſullen ſilence, ſo unlike the behaviour of all their former Kings. William heard their complaints with the moſt phlegmatic indifference; the intereſts of Europe alone employed all his atten⯑tion; but, while he inceſſantly waked over the ſchemes of contending Kings and nations, he was unmindful of the cultivation of internal polity. Pa⯑triotiſm was ridiculed as an ideal virtue; the prac⯑tice of bribing a majority in parliament became uni⯑verſal. The example of the great was caught up by the vulgar; all principle, and even decency, was gradually baniſhed; talents lay uncultivated; and the ignorant and profligate were received into favour.

William, upon accepting the crown, was reſolved to preſerve, as much as he was able, the privileges of a Sovereign. He was, as yet, intirely unacquainted with the nature of a limited monarchy, which was not then thoroughly underſtood in any part of Eu⯑rope, except England alone. He therefore often controverted the views of his parliament, and was directed by arbitrary councils. One of the firſt in⯑ſtances of this was, in the oppoſition he gave to the bill for triennial parliaments; it had paſt the two houſes, and was ſent up to receive the royal aſſent, which William refuſed to grant; the commons then voted, that whoever adviſed the King to this mea⯑ſure, was an enemy to his country. The bill, thus rejected, lay dormant for another ſeaſon; and, being again brought in, the King found himſelf obliged, though reluctantly, to comply. The ſame oppoſi⯑tion, and the ſame ſucceſs, attended a bill for regu⯑lating tryals in caſes of high treaſon, by which the [87] accuſed was allowed a copy of his indictment, and a liſt of the names of his jury, two days before his tryal, together with council to plead in his de⯑fence. That no perſon ſhould be indicted, but upon the oaths of two faithful witneſſes. This was one of the moſt ſalutary laws that had been long enact⯑ed; but, while penal ſtatutes were mitigated on one hand, they were ſtrangely increaſed by a number of others.

The great buſineſs of the parliament, from this period, ſeemed to conſiſt in reſtraining corrup⯑tion, and bringing ſuch to juſtice, as had grown wealthy from the plunder of the public. The num⯑ber of laws that were now enacted every ſeſſion, ſeemed calculated for the ſafety of the ſubject; but, in reality, were ſymptoms of the univerſal corrup⯑tion. The more corrupt the commonwealth, the more numerous are the laws.

William was willing to admit all the reſtraints they choſe to lay on the royal prerogative in Eng⯑land, upon condition of being properly ſupplied with the means of humbling the power of France. War, and foreign politics, were all he knew, or deſired to underſtand. The ſums of money granted him for the proſecution of this war were incredible; and the nation, not contented with furniſhing him with ſuch ſupplies as they were immediately capable of raiſing, involved themſelves in debts, which they have never ſince been able to diſcharge. For all this profu⯑ſion England received, in return, the empty reward of military glory in Flanders, and the conſciouſ⯑neſs of having given the Dutch, whom they ſaved, frequent opportunities of being ungrateful.

The treaty of Ryſwick, at length, put an end to a war, in which England had engaged without in⯑tereſt, and came off without advantage. In the ge⯑neral pacification her intereſts ſeemed intirely de⯑ſerted; and, for all her blood and treaſure, the only [88] equivalent ſhe received, was, the King of France's acknowledgment of King William's title to the crown.

The King, now freed from a foreign war, laid himſelf out to ſtrengthen his authority at home. He conceived hopes of keeping up the forces that were granted him, in time of war, during the conti⯑nuance of the peace; but he was not a little mor⯑tified to find that the commons had paſſed a vote, that all the forces in Engliſh pay, exceeding ſeven thouſand men, ſhould be forthwith diſbanded; and that thoſe retained ſhould be natural Engliſh ſub⯑jects. A ſtanding army was this Monarch's greateſt delight; he had been bred up in camps, and knew no other pleaſure but that of reviewing troops, or dictating to generals. He profeſſed himſelf therefore entirely diſpleaſed with the propoſal; and his indig⯑nation was kindled to ſuch a pitch, that he actually conceived a deſign of abandoning the government. His miniſters, however, diverted him from this re⯑ſolution, and perſuaded him to conſent to paſſing the bill. Such were the altercations between the King and his parliament; which continued dur⯑ing his reign. He conſidered his commons as a ſet of men deſirous of power, and conſequently reſolved upon obſtructing all his projects. He ſeemed but little attached to any party in the houſe; he veered from Whigs to Tories, as intereſt, or immediate exi⯑gence, demanded. England he conſidered as a place of labour, anxiety, and altercation. He uſed to re⯑tire to his ſeat at Loo in Holland, for thoſe moments which he dedicated to pleaſure or tranquility. It was in this quiet retreat he planned the different ſucceſ⯑ſions of Europe, and laboured to undermine the po⯑litics of Lewis XIV, his inſidious rival in power, and in fame. Againſt France his reſentment was ever levelled, and he had made vigorous preparations for entering into a new war with that kingdom, [89] when death interrupted the execution of his ſchemes. He was naturally of a very feeble conſtitution, and it was now almoſt exhauſted by a life of continual action and care. He endeavoured to conceal the defects of his infirmities, and repair his health by riding. In one of his excurſions to Hampton-court, his horſe fell under him, and he himſelf was thrown off with ſuch violence that his collar-bone was frac⯑tured. This, in a robuſt conſtitution, would have been a trifling misfortune, but to him it was fatal. Perceiving his end approach, the objects of his for⯑mer care ſtill lay next his heart; the intereſts of Europe ſtill filled him with concern. The Earl of Albemarle arriving from Holland, he conferred with him in private on the poſture of affairs abroad. Two days after, having received the ſacrament from Arch⯑biſhop Tenniſon, he expired, in the fifty-ſecond year of his age, after having reigned thirteen years.

William left behind him the character of a great politician, though he had never been popular; and a formidable general, though he was ſeldom victo⯑rious; his deportment was grave and ſullen, nor did he ever ſhew any fire, but in the day of battle. He de⯑ſpiſed flattery, yet loved dominion. Greater as the general of Holland, than the King of England; to the one he was a father, to the other a fuſpicious friend. He ſcrupled not to employ the engines of corruption to gain his ends; and, while he increaſed the power of the nation he was brought to govern, he contributed, in ſome meaſure, to corrupt their morals.

LETTER XI.

THE diſtreſſes occaſioned by the death of Princes are not ſo great, or ſo ſincere, as the ſufferers would fondly perſuade us. The loſs of King William was, at firſt thought, irreparable; but the proſperity of the kingdom ſeemed to acquire new vigour under his ſucceſſor Queen Anne. This Princeſs was the ſecond daughter of King James by his firſt wife; ſhe was, by the mother's ſide deſcended from Chan⯑cellor Hyde, afterwards the Earl of Clarendon; and had been married to the Prince of Denmark, before her acceſſion to the crown. She aſcended the throne in the thirty-eighth year of her age, having under⯑gone many viciſſitudes after the expulſion of her father, and many ſevere mortifications during the reign of the late King. But, naturally poſſeſſed of an even ſerene temper, ſhe either was inſenſible of the diſreſpect ſhewn her, or had wiſdom to conceal her reſentment.

She came to the throne with the ſame hoſtile diſ⯑poſitions toward France, in which the late Monarch died. She was wholly guided by the Counteſs of Marlborough, a woman of maſculine ſpirit, and re⯑markable for intrigue, both in politics and gallantry. This lady adviſed a vigorous exertion of the Engliſh power againſt France, as ſhe had already marked the Earl, her huſband, for conducting all the opera⯑tions both in the cabinet and the field. Thus in⯑fluenced, the Queen took early meaſures to confirm her allies, the Dutch, with aſſurances of union and aſſiſtance.

Lewis XIV, now grown familiar with diſappoint⯑ment and diſgrace, yet ſtill ſpurring on an exhauſted kingdom to ſecond the views of his ambition, expect⯑ed, from the death of King William, a field open for conqueſts and glory. The vigilance of his late rival [91] had blaſted his laurels, and circumſcribed his power; for, even after a defeat, William ſtill was formidable. At the news of his death therefore the French Mo⯑narch could not ſuppreſs his joy, and his court at Verſailles ſeemed to have forgotten its uſual decorum in the ſincerity of their rapture. But their pleaſure was ſoon to determine; a much more formidable ene⯑my was now riſing up to oppoſe them; a more able warrior, one backed by the efforts of an indulgent miſtreſs and a willing nation.

Immediately, upon the Queen's acceſſion, war was declared againſt the French King, and that Mo⯑narch was accuſed of attempting to unite the crown of Spain to his own dominions, by placing his grand⯑ſon upon the throne of that kingdom; thus attempt⯑ing to deſtroy the equality of power among the ſtates of Europe. This declaration was ſoon ſeconded with vigorous efforts; an alliance was formed be⯑tween the Imperialiſts, the Dutch, and the Engliſh, who contributed more to the ſupport of the war than the other two united. Marlborough was ſent over to command the Engliſh army, and the allies declared him generaliſſimo of all their forces. Never was a man better calculated for debate and action than he; ſe⯑rene in the midſt of danger, and cool in all the fury of battle. While his Counteſs governed the Queen, his intrigues governed the kingdom. An indefati⯑gable warrior while in camp, and a ſkilful politician in courts; he thus became the moſt fatal enemy to France that England had produced, ſince the con⯑quering times of Creſſy and Agincourt.

This general had learned the art of war under the famous Marſhal Turenne, having been a voluntier in his army. He, at that time, went by the name of the Handſome Engliſhman; but Turenne foreſaw his future greatneſs. He now gave the firſt proofs of his wiſdom by advancing the ſubaltern officers, whoſe merit had hitherto been neglected; he gained the [92] enemy's poſts without fighting, ever advancing, and never loſing one advantage which he had gained. To this general was oppoſed, on the ſide of France, the Duke of Burgundy, grandſon of the King, a youth more qualified to grace a court, than conduct an army; the Marſhal Bouflers commanded under him, a man of courage and activity. But theſe quali⯑ties in both were forced to give way to the ſuperior powers of their adverſary; after having been forced to retire by the ſkilful marches of Marlborough, af⯑ter having ſeen ſeveral towns taken, they gave up all hopes of acting offenſively, and concluded the campaign with reſolutions to proſecute the next with greater vigour.

Marlborough, upon his return to London, re⯑ceived the rewards of his merit, being thanked by the houſe of commons, and created a Duke by the Queen. The ſucceſs of one campaign ever ſpurs on the Engliſh to aim at new triumphs. Marlborough next ſeaſon returned to the field, with larger autho⯑rity, and greater confidence from his former ſucceſs. He began the campaign by taking Bonne, the reſidence of the Elector of Cologne; he next retook Huys, Limbourg, and became maſter of all the Lower Rhine. The Marſhal Villeroy, ſon to the King of France's governor, and educated with him, was now general of the French army. He was ever a favourite of Lewis, had ſhared his pleaſures and his campaigns. He was brave, virtuous, and polite; but unequal to the great taſk of command; and ſtill more ſo, when oppoſed to ſo great a rival.

Marlborough, ſenſible of the abilities of his an⯑tagoniſt, was reſolved, inſtead of immediately op⯑poſing him, to fly to the ſuccour of the Emperor, his ally, who loudly requeſted his aſſiſtance, being preſſ⯑ed on every ſide by a victorious enemy. The Eng⯑liſh general was reſolved to ſtrike a vigorous blow for his relief, took with him about thirteen thouſand [93] Engliſh troops, traverſed extenſive countries with an haſty march, arrived at the banks of the Danube, defeated a body of French and Bavarians ſtationed at Donavert to oppoſe him, paſſed the Danube, and laid the Dukedom of Bavaria, that had ſided with the French, under contribution. Villeroy, who at firſt attempted to follow his motions, ſeemed, all at once, to have loſt ſight of his enemy; nor was he apprized of his route, till he was informed of his ſucceſſes.

Marſhal Tallard prepared, by another route, to obſtruct the Duke of Marlborough's retreat, with thirty thouſand men. He was ſoon after joined by the Duke of Bavaria's forces; ſo that the French army amounted to a body of ſixty thouſand diſci⯑plined veterans, commanded by the two beſt reputed generals at that time in France. Tallard had eſta⯑bliſhed his reputation by former victories; he was active, penetrating, and had riſen by the dint of me⯑rit alone. But this ardour often roſe to impetuoſi⯑ty; and he was ſo ſhort-ſighted as to be unable to diſtinguiſh at the ſmalleſt diſtance; and the Duke was remarkable for his reſolution and perſonal bra⯑very. On the other hand, the Duke of Marlbo⯑rough was now joined by the Prince Eugene, a ge⯑neral bred up from his infancy in camps, and equal to Marlborough in intrigue and military knowledge. Their talents were congenial; and all their deſigns ſeemed to flow but from one ſource. Their army, when combined, amounted to about fifty-two thou⯑ſand men; troops that had been accuſtomed to con⯑quer, and had ſeen the French, the Turks, and the Ruſſians fly before them. As this battle, both from the talents of the generals, the improvements in the art of war, the number and diſcipline of the troops, and the greatneſs of the contending powers, is reckoned the moſt remarkable of this century, it demands a more particular detail.

[94] The French were poſted on an hill, their right being covered by the Danube, and the village of Blenheim, and commanded by Marſhal Tallard; their left was defended by a village, and headed by the Elector and Marſin, an experienced French ge⯑neral. In the front of their army ran a rivulet, the banks of which were ſteep, and the bottom marſhy. Marlborough and Eugene went together to obſerve the poſture of the French forces. Notwithſtanding their advantageous ſituation, they were reſolved to attack them immediately. The battle began between twelve and one in the afternoon. Marlborough, at the head of the Engliſh troops, having paſſed the rivulet, attacked the cavalry of Tallard in the right. This general was at that time reviewing the diſpo⯑ſition of his troops in the left; and the cavalry fought for ſome time without the preſence of their general. Prince Eugene, on the left, had not yet attacked the forces of the Elector; and it was an hour before he could bring his forces up to the engagement.

Tallard had no ſooner underſtood that his right was attacked by the Duke, but he flew to its head. He found a furious encounter already begun, his ca⯑valry thrice repulſed, and rallied as often. He had a large body of forces in the village of Blenheim; he made an attempt to bring them to the charge. They were attacked by a part of Marlborough's forces ſo vigorouſly, that, inſtead of aſſiſting the main body, they could hardly maintain their ground. All the French cavalry, being now attacked in flank, was totally defeated. The Engliſh army, thus half victo⯑rious, pierced up between the two bodies of the French, commanded by the Marſhal and the Elec⯑tor, while at the ſame time the forces in the village of Blenheim were ſeparated by another detachment. In this terrible ſituation Tallard flew to rally ſome ſquadrons, but, from the weakneſs of his ſight, miſ⯑taking a detachment of the enemy for his own, he [95] was taken priſoner by the Heſſian troops, who were in Engliſh pay. In the mean time, Prince Eu⯑gene on the left, after having been thrice repulſed, put the enemy into confuſion. The rout then be⯑came 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; there was no general left to ſecure a retreat. The allies were now maſters of the field of battle, and ſur⯑rounded the village of Blenheim, where a body of thirteen thouſand had been poſted in the beginning of the action, and ſtill kept their ground. Theſe troops, ſeeing themſelves cut off from all communi⯑cation with the reſt of the army, threw down their arms, and ſurrendered themſelves priſoners of war. Thus ended the battle of Blenheim, one of the moſt complete victories that was ever obtained. Twelve thouſand French and Bavarians were ſlain in the field, or drowned in the Danube; thirteen thouſand were made priſoners of war. Of the allies about five thouſand men were killed, and eight thouſand wounded or taken.

The loſs of the battle is imputed to two capital er⯑rors committed by Marſhal Tallard; firſt weaken⯑ing the center by detaching ſuch a number of troops to the village of Blenheim, and then ſuffering the confederates to paſs the rivulet, and form unmoleſt⯑ed. The next day, when the Duke of Marlborough viſited his priſoner, the Marſhal paid him the com⯑pliment of having overcome the beſt troops in the world. ‘I hope, Sir, replied the Duke, you will except thoſe by whom they were conquered.’

A country of an hundred leagues extent fell, by this defeat, into the hands of the victor.

Having thus ſucceeded beyond his hopes, the Duke once more returned to England, where he found the people in a tranſport of joy; he was welcomed as an [96] hero, who had retrieved the glory of the nation; and the Queen, the parliament, and the people were ready to ſecond him in all his deſigns. The manor of Woodſtock was conferred upon him for his ſer⯑vices; and the Lord-keeper, in the name of the Peers, honoured him with that praiſe he ſo well de⯑ſerved.

The ſucceſs of the laſt campaign induced the Engliſh to increaſe their ſupplies for the next, and the Duke had fixed upon the Moſelle for the ſcene of action; but being diſappointed by Prince Lewis, who promiſed his aſſiſtance, he returned to the Ne⯑therlands to oppoſe Villeroy, who, in his abſence, undertook the ſiege of Liege. Villeroy, having re⯑ceived advice of the Duke's approach, abandoned his enterprize, and retreated within his lines. Marlbo⯑rough was reſolved to force them. He led his troops to the charge; after a warm but ſhort engagement the enemy's horſe were defeated with great ſlaughter. The infantry, being abandoned, retreated in great diſorder to an advantageous poſt, where they again drew up in order of battle. Had the Duke been per⯑mitted to take advantage of their conſternation, as he propoſed, it is poſſible he might have gained a com⯑plete victory; but he was oppoſed by the Dutch offi⯑cers, who repreſented it in ſuch a light to the Depu⯑ties of the States, that they refuſed to conſent to its execution. This timidity was highly reſented in England, and laid the firſt foundation of ſuſpecting the Dutch fidelity; they were ſecretly accuſed of a deſire to protract the war, by which they alone of all the powers of Europe were gainers.

While the arms of England were crowned with ſucceſs in the Netherlands, they were not leſs for⯑tunate in Spain, where efforts were made to fix Charles, Duke of Auſtria, upon the throne. The greateſt part of that kingdom had declared in favour of Philip IV, grandſon to Lewis XIV, who had [97] been nominated ſucceſſor by the late King of Spain's will. We have already ſeen, that, by a former treaty among the powers of Europe, Charles of Au⯑ſtria was appointed heir to that crown; and this treaty had been guarantied by France herſelf, who now intended to reverſe it in favour of a deſcendant of the houſe of Bourbon. Charles, therefore entered Spain, aſſiſted by the arms of England; and invited by the Catalonians, who had declared in his favour. He was furniſhed with two hundred tranſports, thirty ſhips of war, nine thouſand men, and the Earl of Peterborough, a man of even romantic bravery, was placed at their head.

One of the firſt exploits of theſe forces was to take Gibraltar, which had hitherto been deemed impreg⯑nable. A ledge of lofty rocks defended it almoſt on every ſide by land, and an open and ſtormy bay took away all ſecurity for ſhipping by ſea. A few troops were therefore capable of defending it againſt the moſt numerous armies. The ſecurity of the garri⯑ſon proved their ruin. A detachment of eighteen hundred marines were landed upon that neck of level ground which joins it to the continent. Theſe were incapable of attempting any thing effectual, and even deſtitute of hopes of ſucceeding. A body of ſailors, in boats, were ordered to attack an half-ruined mole; they took poſſeſſion of the platform, unterrified by a mine that blew up an hundred men in the air; with the utmoſt intrepidity they kept their ground, and, being ſoon joined by other ſeamen, took a redoubt, be⯑tween the mole and the town, by ſtorm. The go⯑vernor was now obliged to capitulate; and the Prince of Heſſe entered the town, amazed at the ſucceſs of ſo deſperate an enterprize. This was a glorious and an uſeful acquiſition to the Britiſh dominions; their trade to the Mediterranean was thus ſecured; and they had here a repoſitory capable of containing all [98] things neceſſary for the repairing of fleets, or the equipment of armies.

Soon after the taking this important garriſon, the Engliſh fleet, now miſtreſs of the ſeas, attacked the French Admiral, who commanded fifty-two ſhips of war. After an obſtinate conteſt the Engliſh became victorious; the French fleet ſailed away, nor could it be brought again to the engagement, though the loſſes on either ſide were equal. This may be rec⯑koned the final effort of France by ſea: in all ſub⯑ſequent engagements their chief care was rather to conſult means of eſcape than of victory. Nor yet were the French and Spaniards willing to ſuffer Gibraltar to be taken, without an effort for repriſal. Philip ſent an army to retake it, and France a fleet of thir⯑teen ſhips of the line; both were equally unſucceſs⯑ful; part of the fleet was diſperſed by a tempeſt, and another part taken by the Engliſh; while the army, having made little or no progreſs by land, was oblig⯑ed to abandon the enterprize.

Nor were the Engliſh leſs ſucceſsful in aſſerting the title of Charles to the kingdom. Their army was commanded by the Earl of Peterborough, one of the moſt ſingular and extraordinary men of the age. At fifteen he fought againſt the Moors in Africa; at twenty he aſſiſted in compaſſing the re⯑volution. He now carried on this war in Spain, al⯑moſt at his own expence; and his friendſhip for the Duke Charles was his ſtrongeſt motive to undertake it. He was deformed in perſon, but, of a mind the moſt generous and active that ever inſpired an honeſt boſom. His firſt attempt in Spain was to beſiege Barcelona, a ſtrong city, with a garriſon of five thouſand men, while his own army amounted to but ſeven thouſand. Never was an attempt more bold, or more fortunate. The operations began by a ſud⯑den attack on fort Monjuice, ſtrongly ſituated on an [99] hill, that commanded the city. The outworks were taken by ſtorm; a ſhell chanced to fall into the body of the fort, and blew up the magazine of powder; the garriſon of the fort was ſtruck with conſterna⯑tion, and ſurrendered without farther reſiſtance. The town ſtill remained unconquered; the Engliſh general erected batteries againſt it, and, in a few days, the governor capitulated. During the interval of capitulation, the Germans and Catalonians in the Engliſh army had entered the town, and were plun⯑dering all before them. The governor thought him⯑ſelf betrayed: he upbraided the treachery of the ge⯑neral. Peterborough flew among the plunderers, drove them from their prey, and returned ſoon after cooly to finiſh the capitulation. The Spaniards were equally amazed at the generoſity of the Engliſh, and the baſeneſs of their own countrymen, who had led on to the ſpoil.

The conqueſt of all Valencia ſucceeded the tak⯑ing of this important place; the enemy, after a de⯑ſeated attempt to retake Barcelona, ſaw themſelves deprived of almoſt every hope; the party of Charles was increaſing every day; he became maſter of Ara⯑gon, Carthagena, and Granada; the road to Madrid, their capital city, lay open before him; the Earl of Galloway entered it in triumph, and there proclaimed Charles King of Spain, without farther oppoſition.

The Engliſh had ſcarce time to rejoice at theſe ſucceſſes of their arms, when their attention was turned to new victories in Flanders. The Duke of Marlborough had early commenced the campaign, and brought an army of eighty thouſand men into the field, and ſtill expected reinforcements from Denmark and Pruſſia. The court of France wa [...] reſolved to attack him before this junction. Ville⯑roy, who commanded an army conſiſting of eight [...] thouſand men, near Tirlemont, had orders to en⯑gage. He accordingly drew up his forces in a ſtron [...] [100] camp; his right was flanked by the river Mehaigne, his left was poſted behind a marſh, and the village of Ramillies lay in the center. Marlborough, who perceived this diſpoſition, drew up his army accord⯑ingly. He knew that the enemies left could not paſs the marſh, to attack him, but at a great diſadvan⯑tage; he therefore weakened his troops on that quar⯑ter, and thundered on the center with ſuperior num⯑bers. They ſtood but a ſhort time in the center, and, at length, gave way on all ſides. The horſe abandoned their foot, and were ſo cloſely purſued, that almoſt all were cut in pieces. Six thouſand men were taken priſoners, and about eight thouſand were killed or wounded. This victory was almoſt as ſignal as that of Blenheim; Bavaria and Cologne were the fruits of the one, and all Brabant was gain⯑ed by the other. The French troops were diſpirit⯑ed, and the city of Paris overwhelmed with con⯑ſternation. Lewis XIV, who, in the beginning of his reign, had long been flattered with conqueſt, was now humbled to ſuch a degree as might have excited the compaſſion of his enemies; he intreated for peace, but in vain; the allies carried all before them; and his very capital dreaded the approach of the conquerors. What neither his power, his ar⯑mies, nor his politics, could effect, a party in England performed; and the diſſention between the Whigs and the Tories ſaved the dominions of France, that now ſeemed ready for ruin.

LETTER XII.

QUEEN Anne's councils had hitherto been governed by a Whig miniſtry; they ſtill pur⯑ſued the ſchemes of the late King; and, upon re⯑publican principles, ſtrove to diffuſe freedom through⯑out [101] Europe. In a government, where the reaſoning of individuals, retired from power, generally leads thoſe who command, the deſigns of the miniſtry muſt change, as the people happen to alter. The Queen's perſonal virtues, her ſucceſſes, her adulation from the throne, contributed all to change the diſpoſition of the nation; they now began to defend hereditary ſucceſſion, non-reſiſtance, and divine right; they were now become Tories, and were ready to con⯑trovert the deſigns of a Whig miniſtry, whenever a leader offered to conduct them to the charge.

Theſe diſcontents were, in ſome meaſure, increaſ⯑ed by a meditated union between the two kingdoms of England and Scotland. The treaty, for this pur⯑poſe, was chiefly managed by the miniſtry; and, al⯑though it was fraught with numberleſs benefits to either kingdom, yet it raiſed the murmurs of both. The Engliſh expected nothing from the union of ſo poor a nation, but a participation of their neceſſities; they thought it unjuſt, that, while Seotland was granted an eighth part of the legiſlature, it yet ſhould be taxed but a fortieth part of the ſupplies. On the other hand, the Scotch conſidered that their independency would be quite deſtroyed, and the dignity of their crown betrayed; they dreaded an increaſe of taxes, and ſeemed not much to eſteem the ad⯑vantages of an increaſed trade. In every political meaſure there are diſadvantages on either ſide, which may be ſufficient to deter the timid, but which a bold legiſlator diſregards. The union, after ſome ſtrug⯑gles, was effected; Scotland was no longer to have a parliament, but to ſend ſixteen Peers, choſen from the body of their nobility, and forty-five commoners. The two kingdoms were called by the common name of Great Britain; and all the ſubjects of both were to enjoy a commun iation of privileges and ad⯑vantages.

[102] This meaſure, which ſtrengthened the vigour of government, by uniting its force, ſeemed to threaten the enemies of Great Britain with dangers abroad; but the diſcontents of the nation at home prevented the effects of its newly-acquired power. The To⯑ries, now become the majority, were diſpleaſed with the Whig miniſtry; they looked with jealouſy on the power of the Earl of Godolphin and the Duke of Marlborough, who had long governed the Queen, and laviſhed the treaſures of the nation on conqueſts more glorious than ſerviceable. To them the people imputed the burthens under which they now groan⯑ed, and others which they had reaſon to fear. The loſs of a battle near Almanza in Spain, where the Engliſh army were taken priſoners, under the com⯑mand of the Earl of Galloway, with ſome other miſ⯑carriages, tended to heighten their diſpleaſure, and diſpelled the inebriation of former ſucceſs. The To⯑ries did not fail to inculcate and exaggerate theſe cauſes of diſcontent, while Robert Harley, after⯑wards Earl of Oxford, and Henry St. John, made ſoon after Lord Bolingbroke, ſecretly fanned the flame.

Harley had lately become a favourite of the Queen; the petulance of the Ducheſs of Marlbo⯑rough, who formerly ruled the Queen, had entirely alienated the affections of her miſtreſs. She now placed them upon one Mrs. Maſham, who was en⯑tirely devoted to Lord Oxford. Oxford was poſ⯑ſeſſed of uncommon erudition; he was polite and intriguing; he had inſinuated himſelf into the royal favour, and determined to ſap the credit of Marl⯑borough and his adherents. In this attempt he choſe, for his ſecond, Bolingbroke, a man of ex⯑alted powers of thinking, eloquent, ambitious, and enterpriſing. Bolingbroke was, at firſt, contented to act a ſubordinate character in this meditated oppo⯑ [...]tion; but, ſoon perceiving the ſuperiority of his [103] own talents, from being an inferior, he was reſolved to become Lord Oxford's rival. The Duke of Marlborough ſoon perceived their growing power, and reſolved to cruſh it in the beginning. He re⯑fuſed to join in the Privy Council, while Harley was ſecretary. Godolphin joined his influence in this meaſure; and the Queen was obliged to appeaſe their reſentment, by diſcharging Harley from his place: Bolingbroke was reſolved to ſhare his diſ⯑grace, and voluntarily relinquiſhed his employments.

This violent meaſure, which ſeemed, at firſt, fa⯑vourable to the Whig miniſtry, laid the firſt founda⯑tion of its ruin; the Queen was intirely diſpleaſed with the haughty conduct of the Duke; and, from that moment, he loſt her confidence and affection. Harley was enabled to act now with leſs diſguiſe, and to take more vigorous meaſures for the completion of his deſigns. In him the Queen repoſed all her truſt, though he now had no viſible concern in the admi⯑niſtration.

The Whig party, in this manner, ſeemed to tri⯑umph for ſome time, till an occurrence, in itſelf, of no great importance, ſerved to ſhew the ſpirit of the times. Doctor Sacheverel, a miniſter of narrow in⯑tellects and bigotted principles, had publiſhed two ſermons, in which he ſtrongly inſiſted on the illega⯑lity of reſiſting Kings, and enforced the divine ori⯑gin of their authority; declaimed againſt the Diſſen⯑ters, and exhorted the Church to put on the whole armour of God. There was nothing in the ſermons, either nervous, well written, or clear; they owed all their celebrity to the complexion of the times, and are at preſent juſtly forgotten. Sacheverel was im⯑peached by the commons, at the bar of the upper houſe; they ſeemed reſolutely bent upon puniſhing him; and a day was appointed for trying him before the Lords at Weſtminſter-Hall. Mean while, the Tories, who, one and all, approved his principles, [104] were as violent in his defence as the parliament had been in his proſecution. The eyes of the kingdom were turned upon this extraordinary tryal; the Queen herſelf was every day preſent as a private ſpectator. His tryal laſted ſome days; and vaſt multitudes attended him each day, as he went to the hall, ſhouting, and praying for his ſucceſs. The body of the people eſpouſed his cauſe. They de⯑ſtroyed ſeveral meeting-houſes, and plundered the dwellings of Diſſenters; and the Queen herſelf could not but reliſh thoſe doctrines which contributed to extend her prerogative. The Lords were divided; they continued undetermined for ſome time; but, at length, after much obſtinate diſpute and viru⯑lent altercation, Sacheverel was found guilty by a majority of ſeventeen voices. He was prohibited from preaching, for the term of three years: his two ſermons were ordered to be burnt by the hands of the common hangman. The lenity of this ſentence was conſidered, by the Tories, as a victo⯑ry; and, in fact, their faction took the lead all the remaining part of this reign.

The King of France, long perſecuted by fortune, and each hour fearing for his capital, once more pe⯑titioned for peace. Godolphin and Marlborough, who had, ſince the beginning of the war, enjoyed the double advantage of extending their glory, and increaſing their fortunes, were intirely averſe to any negotiation which tended to diminiſh both. The Tories, on the other hand, willing to humble the general, and his partner Godolphin, were ſincerely deſirous of a peace, as the only meaſure to attain their ends. A conference was, at length, begun at Gertruydenberg, under the influence of Marlborough, Eugene, and Zinzendorf, all three entirely averſe to the treaty. The French miniſters were ſubjected to every ſpecies of mortification; their conduct nar⯑rowly watched; their maſter inſulted; and their let⯑ters [105] opened. They offered to ſatisfy every com⯑plaint that had given riſe to the war; they conſented to abandon Philip IV, in Spain; to grant the Dutch a large barrier; they even conſented to grant a ſup⯑ply towards dethroning Philip; but even this offer was treated with contempt, and at length the con⯑ference was broken off, while Lewis reſolved to ha⯑zard another campaign.

The deſigns of the Dutch, and the Engliſh gene⯑ral, were too obvious not to be ſeen, and properly explained by their enemies in England. The writers of the Tory faction, who were men of the firſt rank of literary merit, diſplayed the avarice of the Duke and the ſelf-intereſted conduct of the Dutch; they inſiſted, that, while England was exhauſting her ſtrength in foreign conqueſts, ſhe was loſing her liberty at home; that her miniſters were not con⯑tented with ſharing the plunder of an impoveriſhing ſtate, but were reſolved upon deſtroying its liberties alſo. To theſe complaints were added the real pride of the then prevailing miniſtry, and the inſolence of the Ducheſs of Marlborough, who hitherto had poſſeſſed more real power than the whole privy-coun⯑cil united. Mrs. Maſham, who had firſt been re⯑commended to the Queen's favour by the Ducheſs, now fairly ſupplanted her patroneſs; and, by a ſteady attention to pleaſe the Queen, had gained all that confidence which ſhe had repoſed in her former confidante. It was too late that the Ducheſs per⯑ceived this alienation of the Queen's favour, and now began to think of repairing it by demanding an audience of her Majeſty, in order to vindicate her character from every ſuſpicion; but formal expla⯑nations ever widen the breach.

Mr. Hill, brother to the new favourite, was ap⯑pointed by the Queen to be colonel of a regiment; this the Duke of Marlborough could by no means approve. He expoſtulated with his ſovereign; he [106] retired in diſguſt; the Queen, by a letter, gave him [...]eave to diſpoſe of the regiment as he ſhould think proper; but, before it came to his hands, he had ſent a letter to the Queen, deſiring ſhe would permit him to retire from his employments. This was the conjuncture which the Tories had long wiſhed for, and which the Queen herſelf was internally pleaſed with. She now perceived herſelf ſet free from an arbitrary combination, by which ſhe had been long kept in dependance. The Earl of Godolphin, the Duke's ſon-in-law, was diveſted of his office; and the treaſury ſubmitted to Harley, the antagoniſt of his ambition. Lord Somers was diſmiſſed from be⯑ing preſident of the council, and the Earl of Ro⯑cheſter appointed in his room. In a word, there was not one Whig left in any office of ſtate, except the Duke of Marlborough; he retained his employ⯑ments for a ſhort time, unſupported and alone, an object of envy and factious reproach, till at length be found his cauſe irretrievable, and was obliged, after trying another campaign, to reſign, as the reſt of his party had done before.

As war ſeemed to have been the deſire of the Whig party, ſo peace ſeemed to have been that of the Tories. Through the courſe of Engliſh hiſto⯑ry, France ſeems to have been the peculiar object of the hatred of the Whigs, and a continual war with that nation has been their aim. On the contrary, the Tories have not regarded that nation, with ſuch oppoſition of principle; and a peace with France has generally been the reſult of a Tory adminiſtration. For ſome time therefore, a negotiation for peace had been carried on between the court of France and the new miniſters, who had a double aim in this mea⯑ſure; namely, to mortify the Whigs and the Dutch, and to free their country from a ruinous war which had all the appearance of becoming habitual to the conſtitution.

LETTER XIII.

THE conferences for peace were firſt opened at London; and ſome time after the Queen ſent the Earl of Strafford as ambaſſador into Holland, to communicate the propoſals which the French King had made towards the re-eſtabliſhment of the gene⯑ral tranquility. The ſpirit of the times was now changed; Marlborough's averſion to ſuch meaſures could now no longer retard the negotiation; Lord Strafford obliged the Dutch to name plenipotentiaries, and to receive thoſe of France. The treaty began at Utrecht; but as all the powers concerned in this conference, except France and England, were averſe to every accommodation, their diſputes ſerved rather to retard than accelerate a pacification. The Engliſh miniſtry, however, had foreſeen and provided againſt thoſe difficulties. Their great end was to free the ſubjects from a long unprofitable war, a war where conqueſt could add nothing to their power, and a defeat might be prejudicial to internal tranquility. As England had borne the chief burthen of the war, it was but juſt to expect that it would take the lead in dictating the terms of peace. There were, however, three perſons of very great intereſt and power, who la⯑boured, by every art, to protract the negotiation; thoſe were the Duke of Marlborough, Prince Eugene, and Heinſius the Dutch grand penſionary. Prince Eugene even came over to London, in order to re⯑tard the progreſs of a peace, which ſeemed to interrupt his career of glory; he found at court ſuch a recep⯑tion as was due to his merits and fame; but, at the ſame time, ſuch a repulſe as the propoſals he made ſeemed to deſerve.

This negotiation to London failing of effect, the allies practiſed every artifice to intimidate the Queen, and blacken the character of her miniſters; to raiſe [108] and continue a dangerous ferment among the people, to obſtruct her councils, and divulge her deſigns. Her miniſters were very ſenſible of their preſent dan⯑gerous ſituation; they perceived her health was daily impairing, and her ſucceſſor countenanced the oppo⯑ſite faction. In caſe of her death, they had nothing to expect but proſecution and ruin, for obeying her commands; their only way therefore was to give up their preſent employments, or haſten the conclu⯑ſion of a treaty, the utility of which would be the beſt argument with the people in their favour. The peace therefore was haſtened; and this haſte, in ſome meaſure, relaxed the miniſters obſtinacy, in inſiſting upon ſuch terms and advantages as they had a right to demand. Seeing that nothing was to be expected from the concurrence of the allies, the courts of Lon⯑don and Verſailles reſolved to enter into a private treaty, in which ſuch terms might be agreed on as would enable both courts to preſcribe terms to the reſt of the contending powers.

In the mean time the Duke of Marlborough having been depoſed from his office of general, the command of the Engliſh army in Flanders was given to the Duke of Ormond; but, at the ſame time, private orders were given him not to act with vigour againſt an enemy, which was upon the point of being recon⯑ciled by more mild methods of treatment. The al⯑lies, thus deprived of the aſſiſtance of the Engliſh, ſtill continued their animoſity, and were reſolved to continue the war ſeparately; they had the utmoſt confidence in Prince Eugene, their general; and, though leſſened by the defection of the Britiſh forces, they were ſtill ſuperior to thoſe of the enemy, which were commanded by Marſhal Villars, a man who ſeemed to poſſeſs all the great qualities, and all the ſoibles of his country, in a ſupreme degree; valiant, generous, alert, lively, boaſtful, and avaricious. The loſs of the Britiſh forces was ſoon ſeverely felt in the [109] allied army. Villars attacked a ſeparate body of their troops incamped at Denain, under the command of the Earl of Albemarle. Their intrenchments were forced, and ſeventeen battalions either killed or taken, the Earl himſelf, and all the ſurviving officers, being made priſoners of war.

Theſe ſucceſſes of Marſhal Villars ſerved to haſten the treaty of Utrecht. The Britiſh miniſters at the congreſs, reſponſible at once for their conduct to their Queen, their country, and all Europe, neglected nothing that might have been ſerviceable either to the allies, or that might conduce to the public ſafety. They firſt ſtipulated that Philip V, who had been ſettled on the throne 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 the reſt of Europe. They covenanted that the Duke of Berry, his brother, the preſumptive heir to the crown of France, after the death of the Dauphin, ſhould alſo renounce his right to the crown of Spain, in caſe he became King of France. The Duke of Orleans was to make the ſame reſignation. To oblige men thus to renounce their rights might have been injuſtice; but, for every good acquired, ſome inconvenience muſt be endured; theſe reſigna⯑tions, in ſome meaſure, ſerved to calm the world temptſted up by long war, and have ſince become the baſis of the law of nations, to which Europe profeſſes preſent ſubmiſſion.

By this treaty the Duke of Savoy had the iſland of Sicily, with the title of King, with Feneſtrelles, and other places on the continent; which increaſe of his power ſeemed, in ſome meaſure, drawn from the ſpoils of the French monarchy. The Dutch had that barrier granted them, which they ſo long ſought after; and, if the houſe of Bourbon ſeemed ſtripped of ſome dominion, in order to enrich the Duke of Savoy, on the other hand, the houſe of Auſtria was [110] 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 intereſts were ſecured. They cauſed the fortifica⯑tions of Dunkirk to be demoliſhed, and its port to be deſtroyed. Spain gave up all right to Gibraltar and the iſland of Minorca. France reſigned Hud⯑ſon'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 the articles which were glorious to the Engliſh, it may be obſerved, that the ſetting free thoſe who had been confined in the French priſons for profeſſing the Proteſtant religion, was not the leaſt. It was ſtipulated, that the Emperor ſhould poſſeſs the king⯑dom of Naples, the Duchy of Milan, and the Spa⯑niſh Netherlands; that the King of Pruſſia ſhould have Upper Gueldre; and a time was fixed for the Emperor's acceding to theſe reſolutions, for he had hitherto obſtinately refuſed to aſſiſt at the negotia⯑tions. Thus it appears, that the Engliſh miniſtry did juſtice to all the world; but their country re⯑fuſed it to them; they were branded with all the terms of infamy and reproach by the Whig party, and accuſed of having given up the privileges and rights which England had to expect. Each party reviled the other in turn; the kingdom was divided into oppoſite factions, both ſo violent in their cauſe, that the truth, which both pretended to eſpouſe, was attained by neither; both were virulent, and both wrong. Theſe commotions, in ſome meaſure, ſerved ſtill more to impair the Queen's health. One fit of ſickneſs ſucceeded another; nor did the conſolation of her miniſtry ſerve to allay her anxieties; for they now had fallen out among themſelves, the council-chamber being turned into a theatre for the moſt bitter altercations. Oxford adviſed a reconciliation with the Whigs, whoſe reſentment he now began to [111] fear, as the Queen's health appeared to be impaired. Bolingbroke, on the other hand, affected to ſet the Whigs at defiance; profeſſed a warm zeal for the church, and mixed flattery with his other aſſiduities. Bolingbroke prevailed; Lord Oxford, the treaſurer, was removed from his employment, and retired, me⯑ditating ſchemes of revenge, or new projects for fu⯑ture re-eſtabliſhment. His fall was ſo ſudden, and ſo unexpected, that no plan was eſtabliſhed for ſup⯑plying the vacancy occaſioned by his diſgrace. All was confuſion at court; and the Queen had no lon⯑ger force to ſupport the burthen; ſhe ſunk into a ſtate of inſenſibility, and thus found refuge from anxiety in lethargic ſlumber. Every method was contrived to rouze her from this ſtate, but in vain; her phyſicians diſpaired of her life. The privy-council aſſembled upon this occaſion; the Dukes of Somerſet and Argyle, being informed of the deſpe⯑rate ſtate in which ſhe lay, entered that aſſembly without being ſummoned; the members were ſur⯑prized at their appearance; but the Duke of Shrewſ⯑bury thanked them for their readineſs to give their aſſiſtance at ſuch a critical juncture, and deſired them to take their places. They now took all the neceſ⯑ſary precautions for ſecuring the ſucceſſion in the houſe of Hanover, ſent orders to the Heralds at Arms, and to a troop of life-guards to be in readi⯑neſs to mount, in order to proclaim the Elector of Brunſwick King of Great Britain.

On the thirtieth of July the Queen ſeemed ſome⯑what relieved by medicines, roſe from her bed, and, about eight, walked a little; when, caſting her eyes on the clock that ſtood in her chamber, ſhe continued to gaze for ſome time. One of the ladies in wait⯑ing 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 af⯑ter ſeized with a fit of the apoplexy, from which, [112] however, ſhe was relieved by the aſſiſtance of Doctor Mead. In this ſtate of ſtupefaction ſhe continued all night; ſhe gave ſome ſigns of life between twelve and one next day, but expired the next morning, a little after ſeven o'clock, having lived forty-nine years five months and ſix days; and having reigned more than twelve years with honour, equity, and applauſe. This Princeſs was rather amiable than great, rather pleaſing than beautiful; neither her ca⯑pacity nor learning were remarkable. Like all thoſe of her family, ſhe ſeemed rather fitted for the private duties of life than a public ſtation; a pattern of con⯑jugal affection, a good mother, a warm friend, and an indulgent miſtreſs. During her reign none ſuf⯑fered on the ſcaffold for treaſon; ſo that after a long ſucceſſion of faulty or cruel Kings, ſhe ſhines with particular luſtre. In her ended the line of the Stew⯑arts; a family, the misfortunes and miſconducts of which are not to be paralleled in hiſtory; a family who, leſs than men themſelves, ſeemed to expect from their followers more than manhood in their de⯑fence; a family demanding rather our pity than aſ⯑ſiſtance, who never rewarded their friends, nor aveng⯑ed them of their enemies.

LETTER XIV.

THE nearer we approach to our own times, in this ſurvey of Engliſh hiſtory, the more im⯑portant every occurrence becomes; our own intereſts are blended with thoſe of the ſtate; and the accounts of public welfare are but the tranſcript of private happineſs. The two parties which had long divided the kingdom, under the names of Whig and Tory, now ſeemed to alter their titles; the Whigs being [113] ſtyled Hanoverians, and the Tories branded with the appellation of Jacobites. The former, deſired to be governed by a King, who was a Proteſtant, though a foreigner; the latter, by a Monarch of their own country, though a Papiſt. Of two inconveniencies, however, that ſeemed the leaſt, where religion ſeemed to be in no danger; and the Hanoverians prevailed.

The Jacobites had been long flattered with the hopes of ſeeing the ſucceſſion altered by the Earl of Oxford; but by the premature death of the Queen, all their expectations at once were blaſted; the dili⯑gence and activity of the privy-council, in which the Hanoverian intereſt prevailed, completed their confuſion, and they now found themſelves without any leader to give conſiſtency to their deſigns, and force to their councils. Upon recollection they ſaw nothing ſo eligible as ſilence and ſubmiſſion; they hoped much from the aſſiſtance of France, and ſtill more from the vigour of the pretender.

Purſuant to the act of ſucceſſion. George I, ſon of Erneſt Auguſtus, firſt Elector of Brunſwick, and Sophia, grand-daughter to James I, aſcended the Britiſh throne. His mature age, being now fifty-four years old; his ſagacity and experience, his nu⯑merous alliances, the general peace of Europe; all contributed to his ſupport, and promiſed a peaceable and happy reign. His virtues, though not ſhining, were ſolid; he was of a very different diſpoſition from the Stewart family, whom he ſucceeded; they were known to a proverb for leaving their friends in diſtreſs; George, on the contrary, ſoon after his ar⯑rival in England, uſed 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 he joined great application to buſineſs; but generally ſtudied more the intereſts of thoſe ſubjects he had left behind, than of theſe he came to govern.

[114] The King firſt landed at Greenwich, where he was received by the Duke of Northumberland, 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 had the honour to kiſs his hand, as they approached. When he retired to his bed-chamber, he ſent for thoſe of the nobility who had diſtinguiſhed themſelves by their zeal for his ſucceſſion; but the Duke of Ormond, the Lord Chancellor, and Lord Trevor, were not of the num⯑ber; Lord Oxford too, the next morning, was re⯑ceived with marks of diſapprobation; and none but the Whig party were admitted into any ſhare of con⯑fidence. The King of a faction is but the ſovereign of half his ſubjects; of this, however, the Monarch I ſpeak of did not ſeem ſenſible; it was his misfor⯑tune, as well as that of the nation, that he was hemmed round by men who ſoured him with all their intereſts and prejudices; none now but the violent in faction were admitted into employment; and the Whigs, while they pretended to ſecure for him the crown, were, with all poſſible diligence, abridging the prerogative. An inſtantaneous and to⯑tal change was effected in all offices of honour and advantage. The Whigs governed the ſenate, and the court diſpoſed of all places at pleaſure; whom they would they oppreſſed; bound the lower orders of people with new and ſevere laws; and this they called liberty.

Theſe partialities, and this oppreſſion, ſoon raiſed diſcontents throughout the kingdom. The clamour of the church's being in danger was revived; jea⯑louſies were received, and dangerous tumults raiſed in every part of the country. The party cry was, Down with the Whigs; Sacheveral for ever. Dur⯑ing theſe commotions in the Pretender's favour, this [115] Prince himſelf continued only a calm ſpectator on the continent, now and then ſending over his emiſ⯑ſaries to inflame the diſturbances, to diſperſe his in⯑effectual manifeſtoes, and to delude the unwary. Copies of a printed addreſs were ſent to the Dukes of Shrewſbury, Marlborough, Argyle, and other noblemen of the firſt diſtinction, vindicating the Pretender's right to the crown, and complaining of the injuſtice that was done him by receiving a foreigner. Yet, for all this, he ſtill continued to profeſs the trueſt regard for the Catholic religion; and, inſtead of concealing his ſentiments on that head, gloried in his principles. It was the being a Papiſt which had diſpoſſeſſed his father of the throne; and ſurely the ſon could never hope to gain a crown by the very methods in which it was loſt; but an infatuation ſeemed for ever to attend all the family.

However odious, at that time, the Popiſh ſuper⯑ſtitions were to the people in general, yet the opinions of the Diſſenters ſeemed ſtill more diſpleaſing. Re⯑ligion was mingled with all political diſputes. The High-church party complained, that, under a Whig adminiſtration, impiety and hereſy daily gained ground; that the prelates were at once negligent of religious concerns, and warm in purſuit of tem⯑poral bleſſings. A book written by Doctor Samuel Clarke, in favour of Socinianiſm, was ſtrictly re⯑prehended; the diſputes among the Churchmen roſe to ſuch a height that the miniſtry was obliged to in⯑terpoſe; and the clergy received orders for finiſhing ſuch-like debates, and from intermeddling in affairs of ſtate. Nothing, however, can be more impolitic in a ſtate, than to prohibit the clergy from diſputing with each other; by this means they become more animated in the cauſe of religion; and which ever ſide they defend, they become wiſer and better, as they carry on the cauſe. To ſilence their diſputes [...]s to lead them into negligence; if religion be not [116] kept up by oppoſition, it falls to the ground, no longer becomes an object of public concern. Go⯑vernment, I ſay again, ſhould never ſilence diſpute, and ſhould never ſide with either diſputant.

A new parliament was now called, in which the Whigs had by far the majority; all prepoſſeſſed with the ſtrongeſt averſion to the Tories, and led on by the King himſelf, who made no ſecret of his diſ⯑pleaſure. Upon their firſt meeting he informed them, that the branches of the revenue granted for the ſup⯑port of civil government, were not ſufficient for that purpoſe; he apprized them of the machinations of the Pretender, and intimated that he expected their aſſiſtance in puniſhing ſuch as had endeavoured to deprive him of that bleſſing which he moſt valued, the affection of his people. As the houſes were then diſpoſed, this ſerved to give them the alarm; and they out-went even the moſt ſanguine expectations of the moſt vindictive miniſtry.

Their reſentment began with arraigning Lord Bo⯑lingbroke of high treaſon, and other high crimes and miſdemeanors. To this it was objected by one of the members of the houſe of commons, that nothing in the allegations laid to his charge amounted to high treaſon. To this there was no reply given; but, Lord Coningſby ſtanding up, ‘The chairman, ſaid he, has impeached the hand, but I impeach the head; he has impeached the ſcholar, and I the maſter. I impeach Robert Earl of Oxford, and Earl Mortimer, of high treaſon and other crimes and miſdemeanors.’ When there⯑fore this nobleman appeared the next day in the houſe of Lords, he was avoided, by his brother Peers, as infectious; he, whoſe favour had been but a little before ſo earneſtly ſought after, was now rejected and contemned. When the articles were read againſt him in the houſe of Peers, ſome debates aroſe as to the nature of his indictment, which, however, were carried by his adverſaries, and the articles of im⯑peachment [117] approved by the houſe; he was therefore again impeached at the bar of the houſe of Lords; and a motion was made that he might loſe his ſeat, and be committed to cloſe cuſtody. The Earl now ſeeing a furious ſpirit of faction raiſed againſt him, and aiming at his head, was not wanting to himſelf, upon this emergency, but ſpoke to the following purpoſe: ‘I am accuſed, ſays he, for having made a peace; a peace, which, bad as it is now repreſented, has been approved by two ſucceſſive parliaments. For my own part, I always acted by the immediate directions and commands of the Queen my miſtreſs, and never offended againſt any known law. I am juſtified in my own conſcience, and unconcerned for the life of an inſignificant old man. But I cannot, without the higheſt ingratitude, remain uncon⯑cerned for the beſt of Queens; obligation binds me to vin⯑dicate her memory. My Lords, if miniſters of ſtate, act⯑ing by the immediate commands of their Sovereign, are afterwards to be made accountable for their proceedings, it may, one day or other, be the caſe of all the members of this auguſt aſſembly. I do not doubt therefore, that, out of regard to yourſelves, your Lordſhips will give me an equi⯑table hearing; and I hope, that in the proſecution of this inquiry it will appear, that I have merited, not only the indulgence, but alſo the favour of this government. My Lords, I am now to take my leave of your Lordſhips, and of this honourable houſe, perhaps, for ever! I ſhall lay down my life with pleaſure, in a cauſe favoured by my late dear royal miſtreſs. And, when I conſider that I am to be judged by the juſtice, honour, and virtue of my Peers, I ſhall acquieſce, and retire with great content. And, my Lords, God's will be done.’ On his return from the houſe of Lords to his own houſe, where he was, for that night, permitted to go, he was followed by a great multitude of people, crying out, High-church Ormond and Oxford for ever. Next day he was brought to the bar, where he received a copy of his articles, and was allowed a month to prepare his an⯑ſwer. [118] Though Doctor Mead declared, that if the Earl ſhould be ſent to the Tower, his life would be in danger, it was carried, that he ſhould be ſent there, whither he was attended by a prodigious con⯑courſe of people, who did not ſcruple to exclaim againſt his proſecutors. Tumults grew more fre⯑quent; and this only ſerved to increaſe the ſeverity of the legiſlature. An act was made, decreeing, that if any perſons, to the number of twelve, unlawfully aſſembled, ſhould continue together one hour, after being required to diſperſe by a Juſtice of Peace, or other officer, and heard the proclamation againſt riots read in public, they ſhould be deemed guilty of fe⯑lony, without benefit of the clergy. An act of this kind carries its own comment with it; legiſlators ſhould ever be averſe to enacting ſuch laws as leave the greateſt room for abuſe.

A committee was now appointed to draw up ar⯑ticles of impeachment, and prepare evidence againſt him and the other impeached Lords; he was con⯑fined in the Tower, and there remained for two years; during which time, the kingdom was in a continual ferment, ſeveral other Lords, who had broke out into actual rebellion, and were taken in arms, being executed for treaſon; the miniſtry ſeemed weary of executions; and he, with his uſual fore⯑ſight, preſented, upon this occaſion, a petition for coming to his tryal. A day was therefore aſſigned him. The commons appointed a committee to en⯑quire into the ſtate of the Earl's impeachment, and demanded a longer time to prepare for the tryal. The truth is, they had now began to relax in their former aſperity; and the intoxication of party was not quite ſo ſtrong now as when he had been firſt committed. At the appointed time the Peers repair⯑ed to the court in Weſtminſter-Hall, where Lord Cowper preſided as Lord Steward. The commons were aſſembled; and the King and royal family aſ⯑ſiſted [119] at the ſolemnity. The priſoner was brought from the Tower, and his articles of impeachment read, with his anſwers and the replies of the com⯑mons. Sir Joſeph Jekyl, one of the agents for the commons, ſtanding up to enforce the firſt article of his Lordſhip's accuſation, one of the Lords adjourn⯑ing the houſe, obſerved, that much time would be conſumed in going through all the articles of the im⯑peachment; that nothing more remained than for the commons to make good the two articles of high treaſon contained in his charge; and that this would at once determine the tryal. His advice was agreed to by the Lords; but the commons delivered a paper containing their reaſons for aſſerting it as their un⯑doubted right to carry on the impeachment in the manner they thought moſt conducive to their aim. On the other hand, the houſe of Lords inſiſted on their former reſolution, conſidering it as the privi⯑lege of every judge to hear each cauſe in the man⯑ner he thinks moſt fitting. The diſpute grew ſtill more violent; a meſſage was at length ſent to the commons, intimating that the Lords intended to pro⯑ceed immediately to the Earl of Oxford's tryal; and, ſoon after repairing to the Hall of Juſtice, they took their places. The commons, however, did not think fit to appear; and the Earl, having waited a quarter of an hour at the bar, was diſmiſſed for want of ac⯑cuſers. To this diſpute, perhaps, he owed his ſafe⯑ [...]y, though it is probable they would have acquitted [...]im of high treaſon, as none of his actions could [...]uſtly ſuffer ſuch an imputation. With the ſame [...]crimony proſecutions were carried on againſt Lord Bolingbroke and the Duke of Ormond; but they [...]ound ſafety in flight.

Such vindictive proceedings as theſe naturally ex⯑ [...]ted indignation; the people groaned to behold a [...]ew great ones cloſe up all the avenues to royal fa⯑ [...]our, and rule the nation with rigour and partiality. [120] In Scotland the diſcontent broke forth, at length, into the flames of rebellion. The Earl of Mar, aſ⯑ſembling three hundred of his own vaſſals, in the Highlands of Scotland, proclaimed the Pretender at Caſtletown, and ſet up his ſtandard at Brae Mar, on the ſixth day of September, then aſſuming the title of Lieutenant-general of the Pretender's forces; he ex⯑horted the people to take arms in defence of their lawful Sovereign. But theſe preparations were weak and ill-conducted; all the deſigns of the rebels be⯑trayed to the government, the beginning of every re⯑volt repreſſed, the weſtern counties prevented from riſing, and the moſt prudent precautions taken to keep all ſuſpected perſons in cuſtody, or in awe. The Earl of Derwentwater, and Mr. Foſter, took the field near the borders of Scotland; and, being joined by ſome gentlemen, proclaimed the Pretender. Their firſt attempt was to ſeize upon Newcaſtle, in which they had many friends; but they found the gates ſhut upon them, and were obliged to retire to Hexam; while General Carpenter, having aſſembled a body of dragoons, reſolved to attack them before their numbers were increaſed. The rebels had two methods of acting with ſucceſs; either marching immediately into the weſtern parts of Scotland, and there joining General Gordon, who commanded a ſtrong body of Highlanders; or of croſſing the Tweed, and attacking General Carpenter, whoſe forces did not exceed nine hundred men. From their uſual infa⯑tuation neither of theſe ſchemes were put into exe⯑cution; for, taking the route another way, they left General Carpenter on one ſide, and reſolved to pe⯑netrate into England by the weſtern border. They accordingly advanced without either foreſight or de⯑ſign, as far as Preſton, where they firſt heard the news that General Wills was marching at the head of ſix regiments of horſe, and a battalion of foot, to attack them. They now therefore began to raiſe [121] barricadoes, and to put the place in a poſture of de⯑fence, repulſing at firſt the attack of the King's army with ſome ſucceſs. Next day, however, General Wills was reinforced by the troops under Carpenter, and the rebels were inveſted on all ſides. Foſter, their General, ſent Colonel Oxburgh with a trum⯑pet to the Engliſh commander, to propoſe a capitu⯑lation. This, however, General Wills refuſed, al⯑ledging that he would not treat with rebels; and that all they could expect was, to be ſpared from imme⯑diate ſlaughter. Theſe were hard terms; but they were then obliged to ſubmit. They accordingly laid down their arms, and were put under a ſtrong guard. The leaders were ſecured, and led through London pinioned, and bound together, while the common men were confined at Cheſter and Liverpool.

While theſe unhappy circumſtances attended the rebels in England, the Earl of Mar's forces, in the mean time, increaſed to the number of ten thouſand men, and he had made himſelf maſter of the whole county of Fife. Againſt him the Duke of Argyle ſet out for Scotland, as commander in chief of the forces in North Britain; and, aſſembling ſome troops in Lothian, returned to Stirling with all poſſible ex⯑pedition. The Earl of Mar, being informed of this, at firſt retreated; but being joined ſoon after by ſome Clans under the Earl of Seaforth, and others by General Gordon, who had ſignalized himſelf in the Ruſſian ſervice, he reſolved to march forward to⯑wards England. The Duke of Argyle, apprized of his intention, and being joined by ſome regiments of dragoons from Ireland, determined to give him battle in the neighbourhood of Dumblain, though his forces were by no means ſo numerous as thoſe of the rebel army. In the morning therefore of the ſame day on which the Preſton rebels had ſurrendered, he drew up his forces, which did not exceed three thouſand five hundred men, but found himſelf greatly out⯑flanked [122] by the enemy. The Duke therefore perceiv⯑ing the enemy making attempts to ſurround him, was obliged to alter his diſpoſition; which, on account of the ſcarcity of general officers, was not done ſo expeditiouſly as to be all formed before the rebels be⯑gun the attack. The left wing therefore of the Duke's army fell in with the center of the enemy's, and ſupported the firſt charge without ſhrinking. This wing even ſeemed, for a ſhort time, victorious, as they killed the chief leader of part of the rebel army. But Glengary, who was ſecond in command, undertook to inſpire his intimidated forces; and, waving his bonnet, cried out ſeveral times, Revenge. This animated his men to ſuch a degree, that they followed him cloſe to the muzzles of the muſkets, puſhed aſide the bayonets with their targets, and with their broad-ſwords did great execution. A total route of that wing of the royal army enſued, and General Witham, their commander, flying full ſpeed to Stir⯑ling, gave out, that all was loſt. 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 for two miles, though they often faced about, and attempted to rally. The Duke having thus entirely broke their left, and puſhed them over the river Allen, returned to the field, where they found that part of the rebel army which had been victorious; but, inſtead of renewing the engage⯑ment, both armies continued to gaze at each other, neither caring to engage; till towards evening both ſides drew off, each boaſting of victory. Which ever might claim the triumph, it muſt be owned, that all the honour, and all the advantages of the day, belonged only to the Duke of Argyle. It was ſufficient for him to have interrupted the enemies progreſs; and delay was to them a defeat. The Earl of Mar therefore ſoon found his diſappoint⯑ments, and loſſes increaſe. The caſtle of Inverneſs, [123] of which he was in poſſeſſion, was delivered up to the King by Lord Lovat, who had hitherto appeared in the intereſt of the Pretender. The Marquis of Tullibardine left the Earl to defend his own coun⯑try; and many of the Clans ſeeing no likelihood of coming ſoon to a ſecond engagement, returned home. An irregular army being much eaſier led to battle, than induced to bear the fatigues of a campaign.

The pretender might now be convinced of the va⯑nity of his expectations, in imagining that the whole country would riſe up in his cauſe; his affairs now were actually deſperate; yet, with the uſual infatu⯑ation of the family, he reſolved to hazard his perſon among his friends in Scotland, at a time when ſuch a meaſure was totally uſeleſs. Paſſing therefore through France in diſguiſe, and embarking in a ſmall veſſel at Dunkirk, he arrived, on the twenty-ſecond day of December, on the coaſts of Scotland, with only ſix gentlemen in his retinue. Upon his arrival in Aberdeen, he was ſolemnly proclaimed, and ſoon after made his public entry into Dundee; and, in two days more, came to Scoon, where he intended to have the ceremony of his coronation performed. He ordered thankſgivings for his ſafe arrival, injoined the miniſters to pray for him in the churches; and, without the ſmalleſt ſhare of power, went through all the ceremonies of royalty, which were, at ſuch a juncture, perfectly ridiculous. After this unimpor⯑tant parade, he reſolved to abandon the enterprize with the ſame levity with which it had been undertaken, and embarked again for France, together with the Earl of Mar, and ſome others, in a ſmall ſhip that lay in the harbour of Montroſs; and, in five days, arrived at Gravelin. General Gordon, who was left com⯑mander in chief of the forces, with the aſſiſtance of the Earl-marſhal, proceeded with them to Aberdeen, where he ſecured three veſſels to ſail northward, which took on board the perſons who intended to [124] make their eſcape to the continent. In this manner the rebellion was ſuppreſſed; but the fury of the victors did not ſeem in the leaſt to abate with ſuc⯑ceſs. 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 ſhew⯑ed no diſpoſition to ſpare. The commons, in their addreſs to the crown, declared they would proſecute in the moſt vigorous manner the authors of the re⯑bellion; and their reſolutions were as ſpeedy as their meaſures were vindictive. The Earls Der⯑wentwater, Nithſdale, Carnwath, and Wintown; the Lords Widrington, Kenmuir, and Nairn, were impeached. The Habeas Corpus act was ſuſpended; and the rebel Lords, upon pleading guilty, received ſentence of death. Nothing could ſoften the Privy Council; the houſe of Lords even preſented an ad⯑dreſs to the throne for mercy, but without effect. Orders were diſpatched for executing the Earls of Derwentwater and Nithſdale, and the viſcount Ken⯑muir, immediately; the others were reſpited for three weeks longer. Nithſdale, however, eſcaped in wo⯑man's cloaths, which were brought him by his mo⯑ther, the night before his intended execution. Der⯑wentwater and Kenmuir were brought to the ſcaf⯑fold on Tower-hill, at the hour appointed. Both underwent their ſentence with calmneſs and intrepi⯑dity, pitied by all, ſeemingly leſs moved themſelves than the ſpectators.

An act of parliament was alſo made for trying the private priſoners in London, and not in Lancaſhire, where they were taken in arms; which proceeding was, in ſome meaſure, an alteration of the ancient conſtitution of the kingdom; when Foſter, Mackin⯑toſh, and ſeveral others were found guilty. Foſter, however, eſcaped from Newgate, and reached the continent in ſafety; and ſome time after alſo Mack⯑intoſh, with ſome others, forced their way, having [125] maſtered the keeper and turnkey, and diſarmed the centinel. Four or five were hanged, drawn, and quartered; among whom was William Paul, a cler⯑gyman, who profeſſed himſelf a true and ſincere member of the Church of England; but not of that ſchiſmatical church whoſe Biſhops had abandoned their King. Such was the end of a rebellion, pro⯑bably firſt inſpired by the rigour of the new Whig miniſtry and parliament. In running through the viciſſitudes of human tranſactions, we too often find both ſides culpable; and ſo it was in this caſe. The royal party acted under the influences of partiality, rigour, and prejudice, gratified private animoſity under the maſk of public juſtice; and, in their pretended love of juſtice, forgot humanity. On the other hand, the pretender's party aimed not only at ſubverting the government, but the religion of the kingdom; bred a Papiſt himſelf, he confided only in counſellors of his own perſuaſion; and moſt of thoſe who ad⯑hered to his cauſe were men of indifferent morals, or bigotted principles. Clemency, however, in the government, at that time, would probably have ex⯑tinguiſhed all the factious ſpirit which has hitherto diſturbed the peace of this country; for it has ever been the character of the Engliſh, that they are more eaſily led than driven to loyalty.

LETTER XV.

IN a government, ſo very complicated as that of England, it muſt neceſſarily change from itſelf, in a revolution of even a few years, as ſome of its weaker branches acquire ſtrength, or its ſtronger de⯑cline. At this period, the rich and noble ſeemed to poſſeſs a greater ſhare of power than they had done for ſome ages preceding; the houſe of commons be⯑came [126] each day a ſtronger body, at once more inde⯑pendent on the crown and the people. It was now ſeen that the rich could at any time buy their elec⯑tion; and that while their laws governed the poor, they might be enabled to govern the law. The re⯑bellion was now extinguiſhed; and the ſeverities which juſtice had inflicted, excited the diſcontent of many, whoſe humane paſſions were awakened as their fears began to ſubſide. This ſerved as a pre⯑text for continuing the parliament, and repealing the act by which they were to be diſſolved at the expiration of every third year. An act of this na⯑ture, by which a parliament thus extended their own power, was thought, by many, the ready means of undermining the conſtitution; for if they could with impunity extend their continuance for ſeven years, which was the time propoſed, they could alſo for life continue their power; but this, it was obſerved, was utterly incompatible with the ſpirit of legiſla⯑tion. The bill, however, paſſed both houſes; all objections to it were conſidered as diſaffection; and, in a ſhort time, it received the royal ſanction. The people might murmur at this encroachment; but it was now too late for redreſs.

Domeſtic concerns being thus adjuſted, the King began to turn his thoughts to his Hanoverian dominions, and determined upon a voyage to the continent. Nor was he without his fears for his dominions there, as Charles XII, of Sweden, pro⯑feſſed the higheſt diſpleaſure at his having entered into a confederacy againſt him in his abſence. Having therefore paſſed through Holland to Han⯑over, in order to ſecure his German territories, he entered into a treaty with the Dutch and the Regent of France, by which they promiſed mutually to aſſiſt each other, in caſe of invaſion; but the death of the Swediſh Monarch, who was killed by a cannon⯑ball at the ſiege of Frederickſtadt, ſoon put an [127] end to his diſquietudes from that quarter. However, his Majeſty, to ſecure himſelf as far as alliances could add to his ſafety, entered into various negotiations with the different powers of Europe; ſome were brought to accede by money, others by promiſes. Treaties of this kind ſeldom give any real ſecurity; they may be conſidered as mere political playthings; they amuſe for a while, and then are thrown neglect⯑ed by, never more to be heard of, as nothing but its own internal ſtrength or ſituation can guard a coun⯑try from inſult.

Among other treaties concluded with ſuch inten⯑tions, was that called the Quadruple Alliance. It was agreed upon between the Emperor, France, England, and Holland, that the Emperor ſhould renounce all pretenſions to the crown of Spain, and exchange Sardinia for Sicily with the Duke of Savoy. That the ſucceſſion to the Duchies 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. This treaty was by no means favourable to the intereſts of England, as it inter⯑rupted the commerce with Spain; and, as it de⯑ſtroyed the balance of power in Italy, by throw⯑ing too much into the hands of Auſtria. How⯑ever, England ſitted out a ſtrong ſquadron in or⯑der to bring Spain to terms, if that kingdom ſhould inſiſt upon its rights in Italy. The war between the Emperor and King of Spain was actually begun in that country; and the mediation of the King of England was rejected, as partial and unjuſt. It was therefore reſolved by the court of London to ſup⯑port its negotiations with the ſtrongeſt reaſons; namely, thoſe of war. Sir George Byng ſailed to Naples with twenty-two ſhips of the line, where he was received as a deliverer, that city having been under the utmoſt terrors of an invaſion from Spain. [128] Here the Engliſh admiral received intelligence, that the Spaniſh army, amounting to thirty thouſand men, had landed in Sicily; wherefore he immediately de⯑termined to ſail thither, fully reſolved to purſue the Spaniſh fleet. Upon doubling Cape Faro, he per⯑ceived two ſmall Spaniſh veſſels, and purſuing them cloſely they led him to their main fleet, which, be⯑fore noon, he perceived in line of battle, amounting, in all, to twenty-ſeven ſail. At ſight of the Engliſh fleet, the Spaniſh fleet, though ſuperior in numbers, attempted to ſail away, as the Engliſh had, for ſome time, acquired ſuch expertneſs in naval affairs, that no other nation would venture to face them, ex⯑cept with manifeſt advantage on their ſide. The Spaniards ſeemed diſtracted in their councils, and acted with extreme confuſion; they made a running fight; but notwithſtanding what they could do, all but three were taken. The admiral, during this en⯑gagement, acted with equal prudence and reſolution; and the King wrote him a letter with his own hand, approving his conduct. This victory neceſſarily pro⯑duced the reſentment and complaints of the Spaniſh miniſters at all the courts of Europe, which induced England to declare war with Spain; and the Regent of France joined England in a ſimilar declaration. The Duke of Ormond now, once more, hoped, by the aſſiſtance of Cardinal Alberoni, the Spaniſh mini⯑ſter, to reſtore the pretender in England. He accord⯑ingly ſet ſail with ſome troops, and proceeded as far as Cape Finiſterre, where his fleet was diſperſed, and diſabled by a violent ſtorm, which entirely fruſtrated the armament; and, from this time, the pretender ſeemed to loſe all hopes of being received in Eng⯑land. This blow of fortune, together with the bad ſucceſs of the Spaniſh arms in Sicily and elſewhere, once more induced them to wiſh for peace; and the King of Spain was at laſt contented to ſign the qua⯑druple alliance.

[129] King George having thus, with equal vigour and deliberation, ſurmounted all the obſtacles he met with in his way to the throne, and uſed every precaution that ſagacity could ſuggeſt, for ſecuring himſelf in it, again returned to England, where the addreſſes from both houſes were as loyal as he could expect. From addreſſing they turned to an object of the greateſt im⯑portance; namely, that of ſecuring the dependency of the Iriſh parliament upon that of Great Britain. Maurice Anneſly had appealed to the houſe of Peers in England, from a decree of the houſe of Peers in Ireland; which was reverſed. The Britiſh Peers ordered the Barons of the Exchequer in Ireland, to put Mr. Anneſly in poſſeſſion of the lands he had loſt by the decree in that kingdom. The Barons obeyed this order, and the Iriſh houſe of Peers paſſed a vote againſt them, as having attempted to diminiſh the juſt privileges of the parliament of Ireland; and, at the ſame time, ordered the Barons to be taken under the cuſtody of the Black Rod. On the other hand, the houſe of Lords in England reſolved, that the Barons of the Exchequer in Ireland had acted with courage and fidelity; and addreſſed the King to ſignify his approbation of their conduct, by ſome marks of his favour. To complete their intention, a bill was prepared, by which the Iriſh houſe of Lords was deprived of all rights of final juriſdiction. This was oppoſed in both houſes. In the lower houſe Mr. Pitt aſſerted, that it would only increaſe the power of the Engliſh Peers, who already had too much. Mr. Hungerford demonſtrated that the Iriſh Lords had always exerted their power of finally deciding cauſes. The Duke of Leeds produced fifteen reaſons againſt the bill; but, notwithſtanding all oppoſition, it was carried by a great majority, and received the royal aſſent. The kingdom of Ireland was not, at that time, ſo well acquainted with the nature of [...]iberty, and its own conſtitution, as it is at preſent. [130] Their houſe of Lords might then conſiſt moſtly of men bred up in luxury and ignorance; neither ſpi⯑rited enough to make oppoſition, nor ſkilful enough to conduct it.

But this blow, which the Iriſh felt ſeverely, was not ſo great as that which England now began to ſuffer from that ſpirit of avarice and chicanery which had infected almoſt all ranks of people. In the year 1720, John Law, a Scotchman, had erected a com⯑pany in France under the name of the Miſſiſippi; which, at firſt, promiſed the deluded people immenſe wealth, but too ſoon appeared an impoſture, and left the greateſt part of that nation in ruin and diſtreſs. The year following the people of England were de⯑ceived by juſt ſuch another project, which is remem⯑bered by all by the name of the South-Sea ſcheme; and, to this day, felt by thouſands. To explain this as conciſely as poſſible, it is to be obſerved, that ever ſince the revolution, the government, not hav⯑ing ſufficient ſupplies granted by parliament; or, what was granted requiring time to be collected, they were obliged to borrow money from ſeveral different companies of merchants; and, among the reſt, from that company which traded to the South-Sea. In the year 1716, they were indebted to this company about nine millions and an half of money, for which they granted annually at the rate of ſix per cent. in⯑tereſt. As this company was not the only one, to which the government was debtor, and paid ſuch large intereſt yearly, Sir Robert Walpole conceived a deſign of leſſening theſe national debts, by giving the ſeveral companies an alternative, either of ac⯑cepting a lower intereſt; namely, five per cent. for their money, or of being paid the principal. The different companies choſe rather to accept of the diminiſhed intereſt than their capital; and the South-Sea company accordingly having made up their debt to the government ten millions, inſtead of ſix hun⯑dred thouſand pounds which they uſually received [131] as intereſt, were ſatisfied with five hundred thou⯑ſand. In the ſame manner the governors and com⯑pany of the Bank, and other companies, were con⯑tented to receive a diminiſhed annuity for their ſe⯑veral loans, all which greatly leſſened the debts of the nation. It was in this ſituation of things that Sir John Blount, who had been bred a ſcrivener, and was poſſeſſed of all the cunning and plauſibility re⯑quiſite for ſuch an undertaking, propoſed to the mi⯑niſtry, in the name of the South-Sea company, to leſſen the national debt ſtill further, by permitting the South-Sea company to buy up all the debts of the different companies, and thus to become the principal creditor of the ſtate. The terms offered the govern⯑ment were extremely advantageous. The South-Sea company was to redeem the debts of the nation out of the hands of the private proprietors, who were creditors to the government, upon whatever terms they could agree on; and, for the intereſt of this money, which they had thus redeemed, and taken into their own hands, they ſhould be allowed for ſix years five per cent. and then the intereſt ſhould be reduced to four per cent. and be redeemable by par⯑liament. For theſe purpoſes a bill paſſed both houſes; and as the directors of the South-Sea company could not of themſelves alone be ſuppoſed to be poſſeſſed of money ſufficient to buy up theſe debts of the go⯑vernment, they were impowered to raiſe it by open⯑ing a ſubſcription, and granting annuities to ſuch proprietors as ſhould think proper to exchange their creditors; namely, the Crown for the South-Sea company, with the advantages that might be made by their induſtry. The ſuperior advantages with which the proprietors were flattered, by thus ex⯑changing their property in the funds for South-Sea ſtock were a chimerical proſpect of having their money [...]urned to great advantage, by a commerce to the [...]outhern parts of America, where it was reported, [132] that the Engliſh were to have ſome new ſettlements granted them by the King of Spain. The directors books therefore were no ſooner opened for the firſt ſubſcription, but crowds came to make the exchange; the deluſion ſpread; ſubſcriptions in a few days ſold for double the price they had been bought for. The ſcheme ſucceeded, and the whole nation was infected with a ſpirit of avaricious enterprize. The infatu⯑ation prevailed; the ſtock increaſed to a ſurpriſing degree; but after a few months, the people awak⯑ed from their delirium; they ſound that all the advantages to be expected were merely imaginary; and an infinite number of families were involved in ruin. Many of the directors whoſe arts had raiſed theſe vain expectations, had amaſſed ſurpriſing for⯑tunes: it was, however, one conſolation to the na⯑tion, to find the parliament ſtripping them of their ill-acquired wealth; and orders were given to re⯑move all directors of the South Sea company from their ſeats in the houſe of commons, or the places they poſſeſſed under the government. The delin⯑quents being puniſhed by a forfeiture of their eſtates, the parliament next converted its at [...]ention toward redreſſing the ſufferers. Several uſeful and juſt re⯑ſolutions were taken, and a bill was ſpeedily prepared towards repairing the miſchiefs. Of the profits ari⯑ſing from the South-Sea ſcheme, the ſum of ſeven millions was granted to the ancient proprietors; ſe⯑veral additions alſo were made to their dividends out of what was poſſeſſed by the company in their own right, the remaining capital ſtock alſo was divided among all the proprietors at the rate of thirty-three pounds per cent. In the mean time petitions from all parts of the kingdom were preſented to the houſe, demanding juſtice; and the whole nation ſeemed ex⯑aſperated to the higheſt degree. During theſe tranſ⯑actions, the King, with ſerenity and wiſdom preſided at the helm, influenced his parliament to purſue equitable [133] meaſures, and, by his councils, endeavoured to re⯑ſtore the credit of the nation.

The diſcontents occaſioned by theſe public cala⯑mities, once more gave the diſaffected party hopes of riſing. But, in all their councils they were weak, divided, and wavering. Their preſent deſigns there⯑fore could not eſcape the vigilance of the King, who had emiſſaries in every court, and who had made, by his alliances, every potentate a friend to his cauſe. He was therefore informed, by the Duke of Orleans, Regent of France, of a new conſpiracy raiſed againſt him by ſeveral perſons of diſtinction, which poſt⯑poned his intended journey to Hanover. Among thoſe againſt whom the moſt poſitive evidence was obtained, was Mr. Chriſtopher Layer, a young gen⯑tleman of the Middle Temple. He was convicted of having inliſted men for the pretender's ſervice, and received ſentence of death; which he under⯑went, after having been often examined, and having ſtrenuouſly refuſed, to the laſt, to diſcover his accom⯑plices. He was the only perſon who ſuffered death upon this occaſion; but ſeveral noblemen of high diſtinction were made priſoners upon ſuſpicion. The Duke of Norfolk, the Biſhop of Rocheſter, the Lord Orrery, and the Lord North and Grey were of this number. Of theſe all but the Biſhop of Rocheſter c [...]me off without puniſhment, the circumſtances not being ſufficient againſt them for conviction. A bill was brought into the houſe of commons againſt him, although a Peer; and though it met with ſome op⯑poſition, yet it was reſolved by a great majority, that he ſhould be deprived of his office and benefice, and baniſhed the kingdom for ever. The Biſhop made no defence in the lower houſe, reſerving all his power to be exerted in the houſe of Lords. In that aſſembly he had many friends; his eloquence, po⯑liteneſs, and ingenuity had procured him many; and his cauſe being heard, a long and warm debate was [134] the conſequence. As there was little againſt him but intercepted letters, which were written in cypher, the Earl Pawlet inſiſted on the danger and injuſtice of departing, in ſuch caſes, from the fixed rules of evidence. The Duke of Wharton having ſummed up the depoſitions, and ſhewn the inſufficiency of them, concluded with ſaying, That let the conſe⯑quences be what they would, he hoped the luſtre of that houſe would be never tarniſhed, by condemning a man without evidence. The Lord Bathurſt ſpoke alſo againſt the bill, obſerving, That if ſuch extra⯑ordinary proceedings were countenanced, he ſaw no⯑thing remaining for him and others to do, but to re⯑tire to their country-houſes, and there, if poſſible, quietly enjoy their eſtates within their own families, ſince the leaſt correſpondence, or intercepted letter, might be made criminal. Then turning to the Bi⯑ſhops, he ſaid he could hardly account for the inve⯑terate hatred and malice ſome perſons bore the in⯑genious Biſhop of Rocheſter, unleſs it was, that they were infatuated like the wild Americans, who ſond⯑ly believe they inherit, not only the ſpoils, but even the abilities of any man they kill. The Earl of Strafford ſpoke on the ſame ſide; as alſo Lord Tre⯑vor, who obſerved, That if men were, in this un⯑precedented manner, proceeded againſt, without le⯑gal proof, in a ſhort time the miniſter's favour would be the ſubject's only protection; but that for him⯑ſelf, no apprehenſion of what he might ſuffer, would deter him from doing his duty. He was anſwered by Lord Seafield, who endeavoured to ſhew, that the evidence which had been produced before them was ſufficient to convince any reaſonable man; and, in this, he was ſupported by the Duke of Argyle and Lord Lechmere. To theſe Lord Cowper replied, That the ſtrongeſt argument urged in behalf of the bill, was neceſſity; but, for his part, he could ſee nothing that could juſtify ſuch unprecedented, and [135] ſuch dangerous proceedings. The other party, how⯑ever, ſaid little in anſwer; perhaps already ſenſible of a majority in their favour. The bill was paſſed againſt the Biſhops, and ſeveral Lords entered their proteſt. Among the members of the houſe of com⯑mons, who had exerted themſelves moſt ſtrenuouſly in the Biſhop's favour, was Doctor Friend, the cele⯑brated phyſician; and he was now taken into cuſ⯑tody on ſuſpicion of treaſonable practices. He was ſoon after, however, admitted to bail; his friend Doctor Mead becoming his ſecurity. In two days after the Biſhop of Rocheſter embarked for baniſh⯑ment, accompanied with his daughter; and, on the ſame day that he landed at Calais, the famous Lord Bolingbroke arrived there, in his return to England, having obtained his Majeſty's pardon. Upon which the Biſhop, ſmiling, ſaid, ‘His Lordſhip and I are ex⯑changed.’ In this manner the Biſhop continued in ex⯑ile and poverty till he died; though it may not be improper to obſerve, that Doctor Sacheverel left him, by will, five hundred pounds.

Few tranſactions of importance happened during the remainder of this reign; the miniſtry were em⯑ployed in making various and expenſive negotiations, alliances, and treaties; covenants that are made with⯑out faith, and only obſerved from motives of intereſt or fear. The parliament made alſo ſome efforts to cheek the progreſs of vice and immorality, which now began to be diffuſed through every rank of life; luxury and profligacy had increaſed to a ſurpriſing degrce; nor were there any tranſactions to fill the page of hiſtory, except the mercenary ſchemes of vile projectors, or the taſteleſs profuſion of new-made opulence. The treaties lately concluded with Spain were again broken, perhaps by every party; admiral Hoſier was ſent to intercept the Spaniſh galleons from America; of which the Spaniards being ap⯑prized, remanded back their treaſure; and the great⯑eſt [136] part of the Engliſh fleet, ſent on this errand, was rendered, by the worms, entirely unfit for ſervice; and the men were cut off by the unhealthy climate and long voyage. To retaliate this, the Spaniards undertook the ſiege of Gibraltar, and with ſimilar ſucceſs. New treaties were ſet on foot; France of⯑fered its mediation; and ſuch a reconciliation as treaties could procure was the conſequence.

The King had not now, for two years, viſited his German dominions; and therefore ſoon after the breaking up of parliament he prepared for a journey to Hanover. Accordingly, having appointed an ad⯑miniſtration in his abſence, he embarked for Hol⯑land; lay, upon his landing, at the little town of Vert; next day proceeded on his journey; and, in two days more, between ten and eleven at night, ar⯑rived at Delden, in all appearance in perfect health. He ſupped there very heartily, and eat an orange; and continued his progreſs early the next morning. Between eight and nine he ordered the coach to ſtop, and, it being perceived that one of his hands lay motionleſs, monſieur Fabrice, who had formerly been the ſervant of the King of Sweden, and now at⯑tended King George, chafed it between his. As this had no effect, the ſurgeon was called, who fol⯑lowed on horſeback, and alſo rubbed it with ſpi⯑rits; ſoon after the King's tongue began to ſwell, and he had juſt force enough to bid them haſten to Oſnaburgh; and, falling into Fabrice's arms, quite inſenſible, never recovered, but expired about eleven o'clock the next morning. He died on Sunday the eleventh of June, in the ſixty-eighth year of his age, and in the thirteenth of his reign. Whatever was good or great in the reign of George I, ought to be attributed wholly to himſelf; and whenever he deviated, it might juſtly be imputed to a miniſtry al⯑ways partial, and often corrupt. He was almoſt ever [...]nded with good fortune, which was partly owing [137] to prudence, and more to aſſiduity. In ſhort, his ſucceſſes are the ſtrongeſt inſtance of how much may be atchieved by moderate abilities, exerted with ap⯑plication and uniformity.

LETTER XVI.

I Have not hitherto ſaid any thing of the literature of the preſent period, having reſolved to refer it to a ſeparate letter, in which we may have a more perſpicu⯑ous view of it, than if blended with the ordinary oc⯑currences of the ſtate. Though learning had never received fewer encouragements than in the preſent reign, yet it never flouriſhed more. That ſpirit of philoſophy which had been excited in former ages, ſtill continued to operate with the greateſt ſucceſs, and produced the greateſt men in every profeſſion. Among the divines, Atterbury and Clarke diſtinguiſhed themſelves. As a preacher, Atterbury united all the graces of ſtyle with all the elegance of a juſt deli⯑very; he was natural, polite, ſpirited; and his ſer⯑mons may be ranked among the firſt of this period. Clarke, on the other hand, deſpiſing the graces of eloquence, only ſought after conviction, with rigorous though phlegmatic exactneſs, and brought moral truths almoſt to mathematical preciſion. Yet nei⯑ther he, Cudworth, nor any other divine, did ſuch ſervice to the reaſoning world, as the great Mr. John Locke, who may be juſtly ſaid to have reformed all our modes of thinking in metaphyſical inquiry. Though the jargon of ſchools had been before him arraigned, yet ſeveral of their errors had ſtill ſubſiſt⯑ed, and were regarded as true. Locke therefore ſet [...]imſelf to overturn their ſyſtems, and refute their [...]bſurdities; theſe he effectually accompliſhed; for [...]hich reaſon his book, which, when publiſhed, was [138] of infinite ſervice; it may be found leſs uſeful at pre⯑ſent, when the doctrines it was calculated to refute, are no longer ſubſiſting.

Among the moral writers of this period, the Earl of Shafteſbury is not to be paſſed over, whoſe ele⯑gance, in ſome meaſure, recompenſes for his want of ſolidity. The opinions of all latter writers upon moral ſubjects, are only derived from the ancients [...] Morals are a ſubject on which the induſtry of men has been exerciſed in every age; and an infinite num⯑ber of ſyſtems have been the reſult. That of Shafteſ⯑bury, in which he eſtabliſhes a natural ſenſe of mo⯑ral beauty, was originally profeſſed by Plato, and only adorned by the Engliſh philoſopher. Thi [...] ſeemed to be the age of ſpeculation. Berkeley, af⯑terwards Biſhop of Cloyne in Ireland, ſurpaſſed al [...] his cotemporaries in ſubtlety of diſquiſition; but th [...] mere efforts of reaſon, which are exerted rather t [...] raiſe doubt than procure certainty, will never mee [...] with much favour from ſo vain a being as man [...] Lord Bolingbroke had alſo ſome reputation for me⯑taphyſical inquiry; his friends extolled his ſagacity on that head; and the public were willing enough t [...] acquieſce in their opinion; his fame therefore migh [...] have continued to riſe; or, at leaſt, would have ne⯑ver ſunk, if he had never publiſhed. His work [...] have appeared, and the public are no longer in thei [...] former ſentiments. In mathematics and natural phi⯑loſophy, the vein opened by Newton, was proſecute [...] with ſucceſs; Doctor Halley illuſtrated the theory [...] the tides, and increaſed the catalogue of the ſtars [...] while Gregory reduced aſtronomy to one compre⯑henſive and regular ſyſtem. Doctor Friend, in me⯑dicine, produced ſome ingenious theories, which, [...] they did not improve the art, at leaſt ſhewed his abi⯑lities and learning in his profeſſion. Doctor Mea [...] was equally elegant, and more ſucceſsful; to him [...] owing the uſeful improvement of tapping in th [...] [139] dropſy, at once by means of a ſwathe. But, of all the other arts, poetry in this age was carried to the greateſt perfection. The language, for ſome ages, had been improving, but now it ſeemed entirely di⯑veſted of its roughneſs and barbarity. Among the poets of this period we may place John Philips, au⯑thor of ſeveral poems, but of none more admired than that humourous one, intitled, The ſplendid Shil⯑ling; he lived in obſcurity, and died juſt above want. William Congreve deſerves alſo particular notice; his comedies, ſome of which were but cooly received upon their firſt appearance, ſeemed to mend upon re⯑petition; and he is, at preſent, juſtly allowed the foremoſt in that ſpecies of dramatic poeſy. His wit is ever juſt and brilliant; his ſentiments new and lively; and his elegance equal to his regularity. Next him Vanburgh is placed, whoſe humour ſeems more natural, and characters more new; but he owes too many obligations to the French, entirely to paſs for an original; and his total diſregard to decency, in a great meaſure, impairs his merit. Farquhar is ſtill more lively, and, perhaps, more entertaining than either; his pieces ſtill continue the favourite performances of the ſtage, and bear frequent repe⯑tition without ſatiety; but he often miſtakes pertneſs for wit, and ſeldom ſtrikes his characters with pro⯑per force or originality. However, he died very young; and it is remarkable, that he continued to improve as he grew older; his laſt play, intitled The Beau Stratagem, being the beſt of his productions. Addiſon, both as a poet and proſe writer, deſerves [...]he higheſt regard and imitation. His Campaign, and Letter to Lord Halifax from Italy, are maſter⯑pieces in the former, and his Eſſays publiſhed in the Spectator are inimitable ſpecimens of the latter. Whatever he treated of was handled with elegance [...]nd preciſion; and that virtue which was taught in [...]is writings, was enforced by his example. Steele [140] was Addiſon's friend and admirer; his comedies ar [...] perfectly polite, chaſte, and genteel; nor were hi [...] other works contemptible; he wrote on ſevera [...] ſubjects, and yet it is amazing, in the multi⯑plicity of his purſuits, how he found leiſure fo [...] the diſcuſſion of any. Ever perſecuted by credi⯑tors, whom his profuſeneſs drew upon him, or pur⯑ſuing impracticable ſchemes, ſuggeſted by ill-ground⯑ed ambition. Dean Swift was the profeſſed antago⯑niſt of both Addiſon and him. He perceived that there was a ſpirit of romance mixed with all the works of the poets who preceded him; or, in other words, that they had drawn nature on the moſt pleaſ⯑ing ſide. There ſtill therefore was a place left for him, who, careleſs of cenſure, ſhould deſcribe it juſt as it was, with all its deformities; he therefore owes much of his fame, not ſo much to the greatneſs of his genius, as to the boldneſs of it. He was dry, ſarcaſtic, and ſevere; and ſuited his ſtyle exactly to the turn of his thought, being conciſe and nervous. In this period alſo flouriſhed many of ſubordinate fame. Prior was the firſt who adopted the French elegant eaſy manner of telling a ſtory; but if what he has borrowed from that nation be taken from him, ſcarce any thing will be left upon which he can lay claim to applauſe in poetry. Rowe was only out⯑done by Shakeſpear and Otway as a tragic writer; he has fewer abſurdities than either; and is, perhaps, as pathetic as they; but his flights are not ſo bold, nor his characters ſo ſtrongly marked. Perhaps his coming later than the reſt may have contributed to leſſen the eſteem he deſerves. Garth had ſucceſs as a poet; and, for a time, his fame was even greater than his deſert. In his principal work, the Diſpen⯑ſary, his verſification is negligent; and his plot is now become tedious; but whatever he may loſe as a poet, [...]t would be improper to rob him of the merit he de⯑ſerves for having written the proſe dedication, and [141] preface, to the poem already mentioned; in which he has ſhewn the trueſt wit, with the moſt refined ele⯑gance. Parnel, though he has written but one poem, namely, the Hermit, yet has found a place among the Engliſh firſt-rate poets. Gay, likewiſe, by his Fables and Paſtorals, has acquired an equal reputa⯑tion. But of all who have added to the ſtock of Engliſh poetry, Pope, perhaps, deſerves the firſt place. On him foreigners look as one of the moſt ſucceſsful writers of his time; his verſification is the moſt harmonious, and his correctneſs the moſt re⯑markable of all our poets. A noted cotemporary of his own, calls the Engliſh the fineſt writers on mo⯑ral topics, and Pope the nobleſt moral writer of all the Engliſh. Mr. Pope has ſomewhere named himſelf the laſt Engliſh Muſe; and, indeed, ſince his time, we have ſeen ſcarce any production that can juſtly lay claim to immortality; he carried the language to its higheſt perfection; and thoſe who have attempted ſtill far⯑ther to improve it, inſtead of ornament, have only caught finery.

Such was the learning of this period; it flouriſhed without encouragement, and the Engliſh taſte ſeemed to diffuſe itſelf over all Europe. The French tra⯑gedies began to be written after the model of ours; our philoſophy was adopted by all who pretended to reaſon for themſelves. At preſent, however, when the learned of Europe are turned to the Engliſh writers for inſtruction, all ſpirit of learning has ceaſed amongſt us. So little has been got by literature for more than an age, that none chuſe to turn to it for preferment. Church preferments, which were once given as the rewards of learning, have, for ſome time, deviated to the intriguing, venal, and baſe. All deſire of novelty, in thinking, is ſuppreſſed amongſt us; and our ſcholars, more pleaſed with ſecurity and eaſe than honour, cooly follow the reaſonings of their predeceſſors, and walk round the circle of former diſ⯑covery.

LETTER XVII.

UPON the death of George I, his ſon George II [...] aſcended the throne, of inferior abilities to th [...] late King; and conſequently ſtill more ſtrongly at⯑tached to his dominions on the continent. The va⯑rious ſubſidies that had been in the laſt reign grant⯑ed, to maintain foreign connexions, were ſtill kept u [...] in this and the late ſyſtem of politics, underwent n [...] ſort of alteration. The rights and privileges of th [...] throne of England were, in general, committed t [...] the miniſter's care; the royal concern being chief [...] fixed upon balancing the German powers, and gain⯑ing an aſcendancy for the Elector of Hanover i [...] the Empire. The miniſtry was, at firſt, divided be⯑tween Lord Townſhend, a man of extenſive know⯑ledge; the Earl of Cheſterfield, the only man of ge⯑nius employed under this government; and Sir Ro⯑bert Walpole, who ſoon after engroſſed the greate ſhare of the adminiſtration to himſelf.

Sir Robert Walpole, who is to make the principa [...] figure in the preſent reign, had, from low begin⯑nings, raiſed himſelf to the head of the treaſury [...] Strongly attached to the houſe of Hanover, and ſerv⯑ing it at times, when it wanted his aſſiſtance, he ſti [...] maintained the prejudices with which he ſet out [...] and, unaware of the alteration of ſentiments in th [...] nation, ſtill attempted to govern by party. He, pro⯑bably, like every other miniſter, began by endeavou [...] ⯑ing to ſerve his country; but, meeting with ſtron [...] oppoſition, his ſucceeding endeavours were rath [...] employed in maintaining his poſt, than of being ſer⯑viceable in it. The declining prerogative of th [...] crown might have been an early object of his atten⯑tion; but, in the ſequel, thoſe very meaſures whic [...] he took to increaſe it, proved to be the moſt effec [...] ⯑tual means of undermining it. As latterly all h [...] [143] aims were turned only to ſerve himſelf, and his friends, he undertook to make a majority in the houſe of com⯑mons, by bribing the members; and, what was ſtill worſe, avowed the corruption. As all ſpirit of in⯑tegrity was now laughed out of the kingdom; and as the people were held to duty by no motives of religious obedience to the throne, patriotiſm was ri⯑diculed, and venality practiſed without ſhame. As ſuch a diſpoſition of things naturally produced oppo⯑ſition, Sir Robert was poſſeſſed of a moſt phlegmatic inſenſibility to bear reproach, and a calm diſpaſſionate way of reaſoning upon ſuch topics as he deſired to enforce. His diſcourſe was fluent without elo⯑quence; and his reaſons convincing, without any ſhare of elevation.

The houſe of commons, which, in the preceding reign, had been diſtinguiſhed into Whigs and Jaco⯑bites, now underwent another change, and was again divided into the Court and Country party. The Court party were for favouring all the ſchemes of the miniſtry, and applauding all the meaſures of the crown. They regarded foreign alliances as condu⯑cive to internal ſecurity; 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 called themſelves the Country party, were en⯑tirely averſe to continental connexions; they com⯑plained that immenſe ſums were laviſhed on ſubſi⯑lies, which could never be uſeful; and that alliances were bought with money, which ſhould be only re⯑warded by a reciprocation of good intentions. Theſe [...]ooked upon the frequent journies of the King to his Electoral dominions with a jealous eye, and ſome⯑ [...]mes hinted at the alienation of the royal affections [...]om England. Moſt of theſe had been ſtrong aſ⯑ [...]rtors of the Proteſtant ſucceſſion; and, not fearing [144] the reproach of Jacobitiſm, they ſpoke with ſtil [...] greater boldneſs. As the Court party generally threa⯑tened the houſe of commons with imaginary danger to the ſtate; ſo theſe of the Country uſually de claimed againſt the incroachments of the preroga⯑tive. The threats of neither were founded i [...] truth; the kingdom was in no danger from abroad [...] nor was internal liberty in the leaſt infringed by th [...] crown. On the contrary, thoſe who viewed the ſtat [...] with an unprejudiced eye, were of opinion that th [...] prerogatives of the crown were the only part of th [...] conſtitution that was growing every day weaker; tha [...] while the King's thoughts were turned to foreig [...] concerns, the miniſtry were unmindful of his autho⯑rity at home; and that every day the government wa [...] making haſty ſteps to an ariſtocracy, the worſt of a [...] governments. As Walpole headed the Court party [...] ſo the leaders of the oppoſite ſide were Mr. Willia [...] Pitt, Mr. Shippen, Sir William Wyndham, and M [...] Hungerford.

The great objects of controverſy during this reig [...] were the national debt, and the number of forces [...] be kept in pay. The government, at the acceſſio [...] of the preſent Monarch, owed more than thirty mi [...] ⯑lions of money; and, though it was a time of pro⯑found peace, yet this ſum was continually found [...] increaſe. To pay off this, the miniſtry propoſ [...] many projects, and put ſome into execution; bu [...] what could be expected from a ſet of men who ma [...] the public wealth only ſubſervient to private intereſ [...] and who grew powerful on the wrecks of their cou [...] ⯑try? Demands for new ſupplies were made eve [...] ſeſſion of parliament, either for the purpoſes of ſ [...] ⯑curing friends upon the continent, of guarding [...] internal polity, or for enabling the miniſtry to a [...] vigorouſly in conjunction with their allies abroa [...] Theſe were as regularly oppoſed as made; the ſpea [...] ⯑ers of the Country party ever inſiſted that the Engli [...] [145] had no buſineſs to embroil themſelves with the affairs of the continent; that expences were incurred with⯑out prudence or neceſſity; and that the increaſe of the national debt, by multiplying taxes, would, at length, become intolerable to the people. What⯑ever reaſon there might be in ſuch arguments, they were notwithſtanding conſtantly over-ruled; and every demand granted with pleaſure and profuſion.

All theſe treaties and alliances, however, in which the kingdom had been lately involved, ſeemed no⯑way productive of the general tranquility expected from them. The Spaniards, who had never been thoroughly reconciled, ſtill continued their depreda⯑tions, and plundered the Engliſh merchants upon the ſouthern coaſts of America, as if they had been pi⯑rates. This was the reign of negotiations; and, from theſe alone, the miniſtry promiſed themſelves and the nation redreſs. Still, however, the enemy went on to inſult and ſeize, regardleſs of our vain ex-poſtulations. The Britiſh merchants complained, by petition, of the loſſes ſuſtained by the Spaniards; and the houſe of commons deliberated upon this ſubject. They examined the evidence, and preſent⯑ed an addreſs to his Majeſty. He promiſed them all poſſible ſatisfaction, and negotiations were begun as formerly. And a new treaty was ſigned at Vienna be⯑tween the Emperor and the Kings of Great Britain and Spain, tending to confirm the former. Though ſuch tranſactions did not give the ſecurity that was [...]xpected from them, yet they, in ſome meaſure, put off the troubles of Europe for a time. An interval of [...]eace ſucceeded, in which ſcarce any events hap⯑ [...]ened that deſerve the remembrance of an hiſtorian; [...]ch intervals are, however, the periods of happineſs [...] a people; for hiſtory is too often but the regiſter [...]f human calamities. By this treaty at Vienna the [...]ing of England conceived hopes, that the peace of [...]urope was eſtabliſhed upon the moſt laſting founda⯑tion. [146] Don Carlos, upon the death of the Duke o [...] Parma, was, by the aſſiſtance of an Engliſh fleet, pu [...] in peaceable poſſeſſion of Parma and Placentia. Six thouſand Spaniards were quietly admitted, and quar⯑tered in the Duchy of Tuſcany, to ſecure for him the reverſion of that Dukedom. Thus we ſee Eu⯑rope, in ſome meaſure, reſembling a republic, put⯑ting Monarchs into new kingdoms, and depriving others of their ſucceſſion by an univerſal concur⯑rence. But this amicable diſpoſition among the great powers can never continue long; and the republic of Europe will be but an empty name, until there be ſome controlling power ſet up by univerſal conſent, to enforce obedience to the law of nations.

During this interval of profound peace, nothing remarkable happened, except the conſtant diſputa⯑tions in the houſe of commons, where the conteſts between the Court and Country party were carried on with the greateſt acrimony; the ſpeeches, on either ſide, being dictated leſs by reaſon than reſent⯑ment. A calm unintereſted reader is now ſurprized at the heat with which many ſubjects of little im⯑portance in themſelves, were diſcuſſed at that time; he now ſmiles at thoſe denunciations of ruin with which their orations are replete. The truth is, the liberty of a nation is better ſupported by ſuch an op⯑poſition, than by what is ſaid in the oppoſition.

In times of profound tranquility the ſlighteſt oc⯑currences become objects of univerſal attention. A ſociety of men, intitled, The charitable Corporation, excited the indignation of the public. Their pro⯑feſſed intention was, to lend money at legal intereſt to the poor, upon ſmall pledges; and to perſons of better rank, upon proper ſecurity. Their capital was at firſt limited to thirty thouſand pounds; but they afterwards increaſed it to ſix hundred thouſand. This money was granted in by ſubſcription; and the care of conducting the capital was intruſted to a pro [...] [147] number of directors. This company, having con⯑tinued for more than twenty years, the caſhier, George Robinſon, and the warehouſe-keeper of the company, diſappeared in one day. Five hun⯑dred thouſand pounds of the capital appeared to be ſunk, and embezzled by the directors, in a manner the proprietors could not account for. They there⯑fore petitioned the houſe, repreſenting the manner in which they had been defrauded of ſuch vaſts ſums of mo⯑ney, and the diſtreſs to which many were reduced to, in conſequence of ſuch impoſition. The petition was received, and a ſecret committee appointed to inquire into the grievance. They ſoon diſcovered a moſt iniquitous ſcene of fraud, which had been carried on by Thompſon and Robinſon, in concert with ſome of the directors, for embezzling the capital, and cheating the proprietors. Many perſons of rank and quality were concerned in this infamous conſpiracy; ſome of the firſt characters in the nation did not eſcape without cenſure. The houſe of commons declared their reſentment, and expelled one or two of their members; but the ſufferers met with ſcarce any re⯑dreſs. Nor can I mention ſuch a circumſtance with⯑out reflecting on that ſpirit of rapacity and avarice which infected every degree of people. An ill ex⯑ample in the governing part of a country ever diffuſes itſelf downward; and, while the miniſtry do not bluſh at detection, the people of every rank will not fear guilt. About this time not leſs than five members of parliament were expelled for the moſt ſordid acts of knavery; Sir Robert Sutton, Sir Archibald Grant, and George Robinſon, for their [...]rauds in the management of the Charitable Corpora⯑ [...]ion ſcheme; Dennis Bond, Eſquire; and Serjeant Burch, for a fraudulent ſale of the late Earl of Der⯑wentwater's forfeited eſtates. Luxury had produced [...]rodigality, the ſure parent of every meanneſs. It was even aſſerted in the houſe of Lords, that not [148] one ſhilling of the forfeited eſtates was ever applied to the ſervice of the public; but became the reward of avarice and venality.

Another occurrence of a more private nature, about this time, excited public compaſſion, not without a degree of horror: Richard Smith, a book⯑binder, and his wife, had long lived together, and ſtruggled with thoſe wants, which, notwithſtanding the profuſion of the rich at this time, oppreſſed the poor. Their mutual tenderneſs for each other, was the only comfort they had in their diſtreſſes, which diſtreſſes were increaſed by having a child, which they knew not how to maintain. At length, they took the deſperate reſolution of dying by their own hands; the child's throat was cut, and the huſband and wife were found hanging in their bed-chamber. They left a letter behind, containing the reaſons which in⯑duced them to this act of deſperation; they declar⯑ed, that they could no longer ſupport a life of ſuch complicated wretchedneſs; and thought it tender⯑neſs to take their child with them, from a world where they themſelves had found no compaſſion. Suicide, in many inſtances, is aſcribed to phrenzy: we have here an inſtance of ſelf-murder, concerted with compoſure, and borrowing the aids of reaſon for its vindication.

LETTER XVIII.

THE Hiſtory of England has little, during this interval, to excite curioſity. The debates in parliament grew every day more obſtinate, as every ſubject happened to come round in voting the an⯑nual ſupplies. But as the ſubjects were moſtly the ſame, ſo alſo were the arguments. There was one, [149] however, of a different nature from thoſe in the uſual courſe of buſineſs, which was laboured for ſtre⯑nouſly by the miniſtry, and as warmly oppoſed by their antagoniſts, namely, the exciſe bill, which Sir Robert Walpole introduced into the houſe, by firſt declaiming againſt 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, inſtead of having the cuſtoms levied in the uſual manner upon tobacco, that what was imported ſhould be lodged in warehouſes ap⯑pointed for that purpoſe by the officers of the crown; from thence to be ſold, after paying the duty of four-pence per pound, when the proprietor found a market for it. This propoſal raiſed a violent ferment, not leſs in the houſe than without doors. Thoſe who oppoſed the ſcheme, aſſerted, that this ſcheme would expoſe the factors to ſuch hardſhips, that they would not be able to continue the trade, nor would it prevent the frauds complained of. They aſſerted, that it would produce an additional ſwarm of exciſe⯑officers and warehouſe-keepers, which would at once tender the miniſtry formidable, and the people de⯑pendant. Arguments, however, were not what the miniſtry moſt dreaded; for the people had been raiſed into ſuch a ferment, that all the avenues to the houſe were crowded with complaining multitudes; and Sir Robert Walpole began even to fear for his life. The miniſtry carried the propoſal in the houſe; but, obſerv⯑ing the tumult of the people, they thought fit 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 popu⯑lace.

This ſucceſs, in the members of the oppoſition, encouraged them to go on to a propoſal for repeal⯑ing an act made in the laſt reign, by which the houſe of commons was to be ſeptennial. They propoſed [150] that parliaments ſhould again be made triennial, a [...] had been ſettled at the revolution. In the courſe o [...] this debate, in which they were oppoſed, as uſual, by the miniſtry, they reflected, with great ſeverity, o [...] the meaſures of the late reign. They aſſerted, tha [...] the ſeptennial act was an incroachment on the right [...] of the people; that during the continuance of tha [...] parliament, ſeveral ſevere laws had been enacted [...] that by one of theſe a man might be removed, and tried in any place where the jury might be favour⯑able to the crown, and where the priſoners witneſſes could not, or dare not, to come. That, by another, a juſtice of the peace was impowered to put the beſt ſubjects to immediate death only, after reading a pro⯑clamation againſt riots. The South-Sea ſcheme, they ſaid, was eſtabliſhed by an act of a ſeptennial parliament; and the exciſe bill had like, under their influence alſo, to have paſſed into a law. Sir Wil⯑liam Wyndham diſtinguiſhed himſelf in this debate: ‘Let us ſuppoſe, ſaid he, a man without any ſenſe of honour raiſed to be a chief miniſter of ſtate. Suppoſe him poſſeſſed of great wealth; the plunder of the nation. Suppoſe him ſcreened by a corrupt majority of his creatures, and inſult⯑ing over all men of family, ſenſe, and honour, in the na⯑tion. Let us ſuppoſe a venal parliament, and an ignorant King; I hope ſuch a caſe will never occur; but ſhould ſuch ever happen to be at once united, a ſhort parliament will be the only means of leſſening the evil.’ Notwithſtanding theſe expoſtulations, the miniſtry were, as uſual, vic⯑torious, and the motion ſuppreſſed by the majo⯑rity. The Country party now found themſelves out-numbered upon every occaſion; they had long complained, in vain, that debate was uſeleſs, ſince every member ſeemed to have liſted himſelf under the banners of party, to which he held without ſhrinking. Deſpairing therefore of being able to ſtem the torrent of corruption, they retired to their ſeats in the coun⯑try, [151] and left the miniſtry an undiſputed majority in the houſe.

The miniſter being now left without oppoſition in the houſe, took this opportunity to render his ri⯑vals odious or contemptible, by getting ſeveral uſeful laws paſſed in their abſence; while the King labour⯑ed, with equal aſſiduity, to adjuſt the political ſcale of Europe; and, for this purpoſe, made ſeveral journies to his Electoral dominions. But his aſſiduity in heal⯑ing foreign differences did not prevent one of a more domeſtic nature; for a miſunderſtanding aroſe be⯑tween him and the Prince of Wales; a Prince that was the darling of the people, and who profeſſed his diſlike both of the miniſtry and their venal meaſures. He had been, a ſhort time before, married to the Princeſs of Saxegotha; and the Prince's miſtaking a meſſage from the King, at a time when the Prin⯑ceſs was lying-in, firſt cauſed the rupture. It was ſoon after widened by the vile emiſſaries of the court, ſo that his Majeſty forbade the Prince his preſence; and gave orders that none of his attendants ſhould be admitted to court. A motion, however, was made in the houſe of commons, for increaſing the Prince's ſettlement, which was but fifty thouſand pounds, to an hundred thouſand. It was repreſented that ſo much had been granted by the late King, to his pre⯑ſent Majeſty, when Prince of Wales; and that ſuch a ſettlement was conformable to the practice of for⯑mer times, and neceſſary to the independency of the heir apparent to the Engliſh crown. This motion was vigorouſly oppoſed by Sir Robert Walpole, as an incroachment on the prerogative, and an officious in⯑termeddling in the King's family affairs. The ſup⯑porters of the motion obſerved, that the allowance of fifty thouſand pounds was not ſufficient to defray the Prince's yearly expences, which, by his Majeſty's own regulation, amounted to ſixty-three thouſand. The motion, however, met the fate of all other anti⯑miniſterial [152] meaſures, being rejected by the majo⯑rity.

But whatever imaginary diſappointments the people might ſuffer, there was a blow levelled at the little wit that was left remaining, which has effectually baniſhed all taſte from the ſtage, and from which it has never ſince recovered. When Walpole entered into power, he reſolved to deſpiſe that ſet of under⯑rate writers, who live by arraigning every miniſtry, and diſſeminate ſcandal and abuſe. For a time he proſecuted that intention; but, at laſt, found it ne⯑ceſſary to employ a ſet of mean hirelings, to anſwer calumny with calumny. He wanted judgment to diſtinguiſh genius; or none poſſeſſed of ſuch a gift were mean enough to applaud his meaſures. From hence he took an implacable averſion to the preſs, which ſo ſeverely expoſed his corruption, and branded his follies. But the preſs alone was not the only ſcourge he had to fear; the theatre joined all its ri⯑dicule, and he ſaw himſelf expoſed as the object of ſcorn, as well as hatred. When licenſe once tranſ⯑greſſes the rules of decency, it knows no bounds [...] Some of the pieces exhibited at that time were no [...] only ſevere, but immoral alſo. This was what th [...] miniſter held to; he brought in a bill to limit th [...] number of play-houſes; to ſubject all dramatic writ⯑ings to the inſpection of the Lord Chamberlain, whoſ [...] licenſe was to be obtained before any work could ap⯑pear. Among thoſe who undertook to oppoſe thi [...] bill, was the Earl of Cheſterfield, who obſerved tha [...] the laws already in being for keeping the ſtage withi [...] due bounds, were every way ſufficient. ‘If, ſays he [...] our ſtage-players at any time exceed thoſe bounds, they ough [...] to be proſecuted, and may be puniſhed. A new law there⯑fore is, in the preſent inſtance, unneceſſary; and every un⯑neceſſary law is dangerous. Wit, my Lords, is the pro⯑perty of thoſe that have it; and it is too often the only pro⯑perty they have. It is unjuſt therefore to rob a man at a [...] [153] rate of his poſſeſſions; but it is cruelty to ſpoil him, if al⯑ready poor. If poets and players are to be reſtrained, let them be reſtrained like other ſubjects; let them be tried by their Peers, and let not a Lord Chamberlain be made the ſovereign judge of wit. A power lodged in the hands of a ſingle man to determine, without limitation or appeal, is a privilege unknown to our laws, and inconſiſtent with our conſtitution.’ The houſe applauded his wit and elo⯑quence; and the queſtion was carried againſt him.

The diſcontents occaſioned by ſuch proceedings at home, were ſtill more increaſed by the depredations of the Spaniards. They diſputed the right of the Engliſh to cut logwood in the Bay of Campeachy in America; a right which had been often acknow⯑ledged, but never clearly explained, in all former treaties between the two kingdoms. Their Guarda Coſtas plundered the Engliſh merchants with impu⯑nity; and, upon the leaſt reſiſtance, behaved with inſolence, cruelty, and rapine. The ſubjects of Bri⯑tain were buried in the mines of Potoſi, deprived of all means of conveying their complaints to their protectors, and their veſſels confiſcated, in defiance of juſtice. The Engliſh court made frequent re⯑monſtrances to that of Madrid, of this outrageous violation of treaties. and they received for anſwer only promiſes of inquiry, which produced no refor⯑mation. Our merchants loudly complained of theſe outrages; but the miniſter expected, from negotia⯑tion, that redreſs which could only be obtained by arms. He knew that a war would increaſe the diffi⯑culties he had to encounter; and he was ſenſible that thoſe he already encountered required all his art and induſtry to remove. A war, he was ſenſible, would require expences which he wiſhed to ſhare in peace. In ſhort, all his meaſures now were not to ſerve the ſtate, but to preſerve his power. Influenced by theſe conſiderations, he induſtriouſly endcavoured to avoid a rupture. The fears he diſcovered only ſerved to [154] increaſe the enemies inſolence and pride. However the complaints of the Engliſh merchants were loud enough to reach the houſe of commons; their let⯑ters and memorials were produced, and their griev⯑ances enforced at the bar by council. The houſe, at length, agreed to an addreſs, to intreat his Majeſty to obtain effectual relief, and to convince Spain that its indignities would be no longer borne with impunity. Theſe complaints produced a convention between the two crowns, concluded at Prado, importing, that two plenipotentiaries ſhould meet at Madrid, to regulate the reſpective pretenſions of either kingdom, reſpect⯑ing the trade in America, and the limits of Florida and Carolina. Theſe conferences were to be finiſh⯑ed in eight months; and, in the mean time, all ho⯑ſtile preparations ſhould ceaſe on either ſide. His Catholic Majeſty agreed to pay the King of Great Bri⯑tain ninety-five thouſand pounds, to ſatisfy the de⯑mands of the Britiſh ſubjects upon the crown of Spain, after deducting from the whole the demands of the crown and ſubjects of Spain upon that of Britain. Such an agreement as this was juſtly re⯑garded on the ſide of the Britiſh miniſtry as a baſe deſertion of the honour and intereſts of their coun⯑try. And when the houſe of commons came to take the convention under conſideration, it produced the warmeſt debate. All the adherents to the Prince of Wales had joined in the oppoſition. It was alledg⯑ed, that the Spaniards, inſtead of granting a redreſs, had rather extorted a releaſe for their former conduct. That they ſtill aſſerted their former right to ſearch⯑ing Engliſh ſhips, and had not ſo much as men⯑tioned the word ſatisfaction in all the treaty. Not⯑withſtanding all the remonſtrances againſt this treaty, the majority of the houſe declared in its favour; and ſeveral members of the oppoſite ſentiment retired from parliament, having deſpaired of being longer [155] ſerviceable in a place where party, and not reaſon, prevailed.

As Spain had engaged to pay a large ſum of money by this convention, ſome time after, when the mini⯑ſter demanded a ſupply, upon a different occaſion, Lord Bathurſt moved to know, whether Spain had paid the ſums ſtipulated, as the time limited for the payment was expired. The Duke of Newcaſtle, by his Majeſty's permiſſion, acquainted the houſe, that it was not paid; and that Spain had aſſigned no rea⯑ſon for the delay. In ſome meaſure, therefore, to atone for his former ſlowneſs, the miniſter now be⯑gan to put the nation into a condition for war. Let⯑ters of repriſal were granted againſt the Spaniards. Theſe preparations were regarded by the Spaniſh court as actual hoſtilities. The French ambaſſador at the Hague declared, that the King his maſter was obliged, by treaties, to aſſiſt the King of Spain; he diſſuaded the Dutch from eſpouſing the cauſe of Eng⯑land; who promiſed him an inviolable neutrality. It is curious enough to conſider the revolutions which the political ſyſtem of Europe had undergone. But about twenty years before, France and Eng⯑land were combined againſt Spain; at preſent, France and Spain united againſt England. Thoſe ſtateſmen who build upon alliances as a laſting baſis of power, will, at length, find themſelves fatally miſtaken.

A rupture between Great Britain and Spain being now become inevitable, the people, who had long clamoured for war, began to feel uncommon alacrity at its approach; and the miniſtry finding it unavoid⯑able, began to be earneſt in preparation. Orders were iſſued for augmenting the land forces, and raiſ⯑ing a body of marines. Two rich Spaniſh prizes were taken in the Mediterranean, and war declared againſt them in form. Admiral Vernon was ſent to the Weſt-Indies, commander of the fleet, in order [...]o diſtreſs the Spaniards in that part of the globe. [156] Vernon was a rough and honeſt ſoldier, untainted with the corruption or the effeminacy of the times. He had, in the houſe of commons, aſſerted, that Porto-Bello, a fort and harbour in South America, might be eaſily taken, and that he himſelf would undertake to reduce it with ſix ſhips only. A pro⯑ject which appeared ſo wild, and impoſſible, was ri⯑diculed by the miniſtry; but, as he ſtill inſiſted upon the propoſal, they were pleaſed in complying with his requeſt. This would at once rid them of a trouble⯑ſome antagoniſt in the houſe; and, in caſe of his failure, there would be a new cauſe of triumph in his diſgrace. In this, however, they were diſappointed. The admiral, with ſix ſhips only, attacked and de⯑moliſhed all the fortifications of the place, and came away victorious, almoſt without bloodſhed. This dawning of ſucceſs upon the Britiſh arms induced the houſe of commons to enter vigorouſly into the King's meaſures for carrying on the war. They in⯑abled him to equip a very powerful navy; they voted a ſubſidy to the King of Denmark, and impowered their Sovereign to defray ſome other expences, not ſpecified in the eſtimates; the whole of their grants amounting to about four millions. The war was carried on with vigour, and the debates in the houſe of commons became leſs violent. In a nation, like England, of arts, arms, and commerce, war, at cer⯑tain intervals of time, muſt ever be ſerviceable. It turns the current of wealth from the induſtrious to the enterpriſing. Thus, all orders of mankind find encouragement, and the nation becomes compoſed of individuals, who have ſkill to acquire property, and who have courage to defend it.

LETTER XIX.

A War between England and Spain was ſufficient to communicate diſturbances over all the globe. Countries that were once too obſcure to be known, were now ſeen to ſend out fleets, one ſhip of which was capable of deſtroying all the naval power of an Aſiatic empire. A ſquadron of ſhips commanded by Commodore Anſon was equipped, in order to ſail through the Streights of Magellan into the South Sea, and to act againſt the enemy on the coaſts of Chili and Peru. This fleet was to co-operate occaſionally with Admiral Vernon acroſs the Iſthmus of Darien; but the delays and blunders of the miniſtry fruſtrated this ſcheme, though originally well laid. However, though too late in the ſeaſon, the Commodore ſet forward with five ſhips of the line, a frigate, and two ſtore-ſhips, ſupplied with proviſions and other mer⯑chandize, deſigned to carry on a trade with the ſa⯑vage inhabitants of that part of the world, or to conciliate their affections. The number of men a⯑mounted, in all, to about fourteen hundred, includ⯑ing two hundred invalids taken from the hoſpitals, and two hundred new raiſed recruits. This whole expedition is a fine inſtance of the power of perſe⯑verance in forcing fortune. The Commodore ſteer⯑ed his courſe by the iſland of Madeira, proceeded to the Cape Verd Iſlands, and ſailed along the coaſts of Brazil. He refreſhed for ſome time at the iſland of St. Catharine, in twenty-ſeven degrees of ſouthern latitude; a ſpot that enjoys all the verdure and fruit⯑age of thoſe luxurious climates. From this place he ſteered ſtill onward into the cold and tempeſtuous cli⯑mates of the ſouth, along the coaſt of Patagonia; and, in about five months, entered the famous Streights of Magellan. After having ſuffered the moſt violent tem⯑peſts he doubled Cape Horn; the reſt of his fleet were [158] diſperſed or wrecked; his crew deplorably diſabled by the ſcurvy; and his own ſhip with difficulty ar⯑rived on the Iſland of Juan Fernandez. In this de⯑licious abode he remained for ſome time, where na⯑ture ſeemed, in ſome meaſure, to conſole mankind far the calamities of their own avarice and ambition [...] In order to improve ſtill farther a retreat of ſuch elegance, he ordered ſeveral European ſeeds and fruits to be ſown upon the iſland, which increaſed to ſuch a ſurpriſing degree, that ſome Spaniards, who, ſeve⯑ral years after, landed there, and found them in plenty, could not avoid acknowledging this act of generoſity and benevolence. Here the Commodore was joined by one ſhip more of his fleet, and by the Tryal frigate of ſeven guns. Advancing now north⯑ward, towards the tropic of Capricorn, he attacked the city of Payta by night. In this bold attempt he made no uſe of his ſhips, nor even landed all his men. A few ſoldiers landed by night, and filled the whole town with terror and confuſion. The governor of the garriſon, and the inhabitants, fled on all ſides; accuſtomed to cruelty over a conquered enemy them⯑ſelves, they expected a ſimilitude of treatment. In the mean time, for three days, a ſmall number of Engliſh kept poſſeſſion of the town, and ſtripped it of all its treaſures and merchandize, to an immenſe a⯑mount. Such of the negroes as had not fled were made uſe of in carrying the goods of their former maſters on board the Engliſh ſhipping; and the Spa⯑niards refuſing to treat ſoon ſaw their town all in flames. This, however, was but a ſmall puniſh⯑ment for all the cruelties which they had practiſed in taking poſſeſſion of that country, upon its firſt in⯑habitants. The plunder of this place ſerved to in⯑rich the captors; and the ravage made among them, by the ſcurvy, ſtill increaſed the ſhare of every ſur⯑vivor. This ſmall ſquadron now came up as far as Pa⯑nama, ſituated on the Streights of Darien. Thus they [159] came upon on the weſtern ſide of the great American continent; and Admiral Vernon was expcted to ſucceed on the oppoſite ſide nearer home. Thus the Spaniſh Empire was attacked on both ſides; but the ſcheme failed from Vernon's want of ſucceſs.

Anſon, who now only commanded two ſhips, the remainder having either put back to England, or, being wrecked by the tempeſts, bounded all his hopes to the taking one of thoſe rich Spaniſh ſhips, which trade between the Philippine iſlands, near the coaſt of China and Mexico, on the Spaniſh main. But one or two, at the moſt, of theſe veſſels paſſed from one continent to the other in a year. The ſhips are made immenſely ſtrong, large, and carry great quan⯑ties of treaſure and merchandize. The Commodore therefore, and his little fleet, traverſed that great ocean lying between the Aſiatic and American con⯑tinent, in hopes of meeting this rich prize, which it was hoped would, at this time of the year, return from the Eaſt, and would amply repay the adventurers for all their dangers and fatigues. Avarice thus became honourable when purſued through peril and diſtreſs. But the ſcurvy once more viſited his mariners, now long kept at ſea, and without freſh proviſions. This diſorder, though it takes the ſame name, is very dif⯑ferent from that on land. The ſea ſcurvy is attend⯑ed with an univerſal putrefaction, the teeth looſen, old wounds that had been healed again open, and ſometimes the limbs are ſeen to drop off at the joints. By this terrible diſorder ſeveral of his men daily fell, and others were diſabled. One of his ſhips be⯑coming leaky, and the number of his hands decreaſ⯑ing, he thought proper to ſet it on fire in the midſt of the ocean. His fleet now being reduced only to one ſhip, called the Centurion, of ſixty guns, and all the crew in the moſt deplorable ſituation, he caſt an⯑chor on the deſerted iſland of Tinian, which lies About half way between the old and new world. [160] This iſland had ſome years before been peopled by near thirty thouſand inhabitants, but an epidemical diſtemper coming among them, deſtroyed a part; and the reſt forſook the place. Nothing, however, could exceed the beauty of this ſpot. The moſt ro⯑mantic imagination cannot form a ſcene ſurpaſſing what Tinian naturally afforded; greens, groves, caſ⯑cades, fields, flowers, and proſpects. This retreat ſaved the Engliſh ſquadron. All that a ſea-beaten company of mariners could wiſh, they found here in great abundance; clear and wholeſome water, me⯑dicinal herbs, domeſtic animals, and other neceſſa⯑ries for refitting their ſhattered veſſel. Thus refreſh⯑ed, he went forward towards China, paſſed by the kingdom of Formoſa, and went up the river Canton in order to careen the only ſhip that now was left him. Being thus far on his way homeward, nothing can better teſtify the hardy and untameable ſpirit of the Engliſh, than his venturing once more back into the ſame ocean where he had experienced ſuch a va⯑riety of diſtreſs. The Commodore having put his veſſel into good order, by the aſſiſtance of the Chi⯑neſe, and having taken Dutch and Indian ſailors on board, he again returned towards America. At length, on the 9th of June, he diſcovered the galleon he ſo ardently expected. This veſſel was formed as well for the purpoſes of war as of merchandize. It mount⯑ed ſixty guns and five hundred men, while the crew of the Commodore did not exceed half that number. The engagement ſoon began; but as thoſe who op⯑poſe have always the advantage of thoſe who de⯑fend, and as the Engliſh are more expert in naval affairs than any other nation; the Spaniſh ſhip ſoon became the Centurion's prize. There were but a few men killed on the ſide of the Engliſh, while the Spaniards loſt near ſeventy. The conqueror now returned to Canton oncemore with his prize. He there maintained the honour of his country, in re⯑fuſing [161] to pay the impoſts which were laid upon ordi⯑nary merchants; and inſiſted that an Engliſh ſhip of war was exempted from ſuch a duty. From Canton he proceeded to the Cape of Good Hope, and proſe⯑cuted his voyage to England, where he arrived in ſafety, with immenſe riches. His laſt prize was valued at three hundred and thirteen thouſand pounds ſter⯑ling; and the different captures that had been made before this laſt piece of good fortune, might amount to as much more. Upon his return, Commodore Anſon received all that honour which prudence and perſeverance deſerve. He ſoon became the oracle conſulted in all naval deliberations; the King after wards raiſed him to the dignity of the peerage; and he was made firſt Lord of the Admiralty.

LETTER XX.

THE expedition of Anſon took up near three years. The Engliſh, in the mean time, car⯑ried on their operations againſt Spain with vigour, and various ſucceſs. When Anſon had ſet out, it was only to act a ſubordinate part to a formidable armament, deſigned for the coaſts of New Spain, conſiſting of twenty-nine ſhips of the line, and al⯑moſt an equal number of frigates, furniſhed with all kinds of warlike ſtores, and near fifteen thouſand ſeamen, and twelve thouſand land forces. Never was a fleet more completely equipped, nor never had the nation more ſanguine hopes of victory. Lord Cathcart commanded the land forces; but, dying on the paſſage, the command devolved upon General Wentworth, whoſe chief merit was his favour with [...]hoſe in power. This, with ſeveral other unfortunate [...]ircumſtances, concurred to fruſtrate the hopes of the [162] Public. The miniſtry, without any viſible reaſon, had detained the fleet in England until the ſeaſon for action was almoſt 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 atmoſphere is always attended with epidemical diſ⯑tempers. They, at length, however, ſet ſail for the continent of New Spain; and, after ſome tempeſts, and ſome delays, arrived before Carthagena. This city, which lies within ſixty miles of Panama, ſerves as the magazine for the Spaniſh merchandize, which is brought from Europe hither, and from thence tran⯑ſported, by land, to Panama, lying on the oppoſite coaſt. The taking of Carthagena therefore would interrupt the whole trade between Old Spain and the New. The troops were landed on the iſland Terra Bomba, near the mouth of the harbour, known by the name of the Bocca-Chica, which was fortified with all the arts of engineering. The Bri⯑tiſh forces erected a battery on ſhore, with which they made a breach in the principal fort, while the Admiral ſent in a number of ſhips to divide the fire of the enemy; and to co-operate with the endea⯑vours of the army. The breach being deemed prac⯑ticable, the forces advanced to the attack; but the Spaniards deſerted the forts; which, had they cou⯑rage, they might ſtill have defended with ſucceſs [...] The troops, upon this ſucceſs, were brought neare [...] the city, where they found a greater oppoſition tha [...] they had expected. The climate killed numbers o [...] the men; and a diſſenſion which aroſe between th [...] land and naval officers, retarded all the operations [...] Stimulated by mutual recriminations, the general or⯑dered his troops to attack the fort of St. Lazar; but th [...] guides being ſlain, the troops miſtook their way, an [...] attacked the ſtrongeſt part of the fortification, where after ſuffering incredible ſlaughter, with the moſt ſe⯑rene intrepidity, they were, at length, obliged to re⯑tire. [163] Bad proviſions, a horrid climate, and epidemi⯑cal fever, ſtill more contributed to thin their num⯑bers, and to deprive them of all hopes of ſucceſs. It was determined therefore to reimbark the troops, and to conduct them, as ſoon as poſſible, from this ſcene of ſlaughter and contagion. The fortifications and harbour were demoliſhed; and the fleet returned to Jamaica. This fatal miſcarriage, which tarniſhed the Britiſh arms, was no ſooner known in England, than the kingdom was filled with murmurs and diſ⯑content; a meaſure which, if it had ſucceeded, would have crowned the promoters of it with honour, now only ſerved to cover them with reproach. The greateſt part of this diſcontent fell upon the mini⯑ſter; his former conduct, which juſtly deſerved cen⯑ſure, was not ſo powerfully objected againſt him, as this failure, of which he was innocent. It is not vil⯑lainy, but misfortune that finds cenſure from man⯑kind. Beſides, the activity of the enemy, in diſtreſſ⯑ing the trade of England contributed to increaſe the murmurs of the people. Their privateers were ſo numerous and ſucceſsful, that in the beginning of this year they had taken, ſince the commencement of the war, four hundred and ſeven ſhips, belonging to the ſubjects of Great Britain. The Engliſh, though at immenſe expence in equipping fleets, ſeemed tame⯑ly to lie down under every blow, and ſuffered one loſs after another without repriſal. This general diſ⯑content had a manifeſt influence upon the election of members for the new parliament. All the adherents of the Prince of Wales, who now lived, retired from the court as a private gentleman, concurred in the oppoſition to the miniſtry. Obſtinate ſtruggles were maintained in all parts of the kingdom; and ſuch a national ſpirit of oppoſition prevailed, that the Country intereſt ſeemed, at length, to preponderate [...]n the houſe of commons. It was ſoon ſeen that the [...]ntereſt of the miniſter was in the wane, and that [164] opinion, once eſtabliſhed, began to deprive him of even thoſe who had determined to act with neutra⯑lity. ‘In proclinantes, as Ovid ſays, omne recumbit onus.’

Sir Robert now tottered on the brink of ruin. He was ſenſible that nothing but a diviſion in the oppo⯑ſition could give him ſafety. The Prince was his moſt formidable rival; a Prince revered by the whole nation, for his humanity, benevolence, and candour [...] Theſe were only private virtues; but theſe were al [...] he had then a liberty of exerciſing. The miniſter's firſt attempt was, to endeavour taking him from the party; a meſſage therefore was carried to his roya [...] highneſs by the Biſhop of Oxford, importing, that i [...] the Prince would write a letter to the King, he and all his counſellors ſhould be taken into favour, fifty thouſand pounds ſhould be added to his revenue, two hundred thouſand given him to pay his debts, and ſuitable proviſion ſhould be made, in due time, for all his followers. This, to a Prince already involved in debt, from the neceſſity of keeping up his dignity [...] was a tempting offer; but his royal highneſs gene⯑rouſly diſdained it, declaring he would accept no ſuch conditions which were dictated to him under the influence of Sir Robert Walpole. The miniſter now therefore ſaw that no arts could diſſolve the combination againſt him; he reſolved, as an expiring ſtruggle, to try his ſtrength once more in the houſe of commons upon a diſputed election; but he had the mortification to ſee the majority ſtill increaſed againſt him by ſixteen voices. He then declared he would never ſit in that houſe more. The parliament was adjourned the next day, and Sir Robert being created Earl of Orford, reſigned all his employments. Never was a joy more univerſal and ſincere than this reſignation produced. The people now flattered themſelves that all their domeſtic grievances would find redreſs; that their commerce would be protected abroad; that the war would be carried on with vi⯑gour; [165] and that the houſe of commons would be unanimous in every meaſure. But they were diſap⯑pointed in moſt of their expectations. The miſcon⯑duct of a miniſter is more likely to affect his ſuc⯑ceſſor than himſelf, as a weak reign ever produces a feeble ſucceſſion. The houſe of commons had been for a long time increaſing in power, and Walpole, with all his arts, was, in fact, rather weakening than extending the prerogative. By his method of brib⯑ing oppoſition he had taught the venal to oppoſe him; and, by his increaſing the national debt, he weakened the vigour of the crown in war, and made it more dependant upon parliament in times of peace. A part of thoſe who ſucceeded him were therefore ſenſible of this, and ſtill reſolved to ſupport the crown, which they regarded as the only declining branch of the conſtitution. Another part, who cla⯑moured from motives of ſelf-intereſt, having now attained the object of their deſires, blundered on in the former meaſures, ſtudious of fortune and not of fame. In ſhort, his ſucceſſors purſuing all the former ſchemes of the depoſed miniſter, preſented the poli⯑tical part of the nation with the mortifying proſpect of pretended patriotiſm unſtripped of its maſk, and ſhewed the little certainty there is in all political rea⯑ſonings.

LETTER XXI.

THE war with Spain had now continued for ſeveral years, with but indifferent ſucceſs. Some inſucceſsful expeditions were carried on in the Weſt-Indies under Admiral Vernon, Commodore Knowles, and others; and theſe were all aggravated by a ſet of worthleſs and mercenary things, called Political Writers. A claſs of beings firſt employed againſt [166] Walpole, and afterwards encouraged by him, at the expence, as it is ſaid, of not leſs than thirty thou⯑ſand a year. Theſe were men naturally too dull to ſhine in any of the politer kinds of literature, which might adorn either a ſcholar or a gentleman; and therefore they turned their thoughts to politics; a ſcience on which they might declaim without know⯑ledge, and be dull without detection. Theſe men, I ſay, had, for ſome time, embarraſſed the conſtitution, inflamed the people, and were paid with large pen⯑ſions from the crown. It was upon this occaſion that they exaggerated every miſconduct, and drew fright⯑ful pictures of the diſtreſs and miſery which they foreboded to poſterity. This clamour, and want of ſucceſs in a naval war, in which the principal ſtrength of the kingdom lay, induced the new miniſtry to di⯑vert the attention of the public to a war, which might be carried on by land. The King's attach⯑ment to his Electoral dominions contributed ſtill more to turn the current of Britiſh indignation that way, and an army was therefore now prepared to be ſent into Flanders; the war with Spain being be⯑come an object of ſecondary conſideration.

To have a clear, yet conciſe, idea of the origin of the troubles on the continent, it will be expedient to go back, for ſome years, and trace the meaſures of the European republic to that period where we for⯑merly left them. After the Duke of Orleans, who had been regent of France, died, Cardinal Fleury undertook to ſettle that confuſion in which the former had left the kingdom. His moderation was equal to his prudence; he was ſincere, frugal, modeſt, and ſimple. Under him France repaired her loſſes, and inriched herſelf by commerce; he only left the ſtate to its own natural methods of thriving, and ſaw it daily aſſuming its former health and vigour. During the long interval of peace, which his councils had procured for Europe, two powers, unregarded, now [167] began to attract the notice, and the jealouſy of their neighbouring ſtates. Peter the Great had already civi⯑lized Ruſſia, and this new extenſive empire began to influence the councils of other Princes, and to give laws to the North. The other power was that of Pruſſia, whoſe dominions were compact and popu⯑lous, and whoſe forces were well maintained, and ready for action. The Empire continued under Charles VI, who had been placed upon the throne by the treaty of Utrecht. Sweden languiſhed, be⯑ing not yet recovered from the deſtructive projects of Charles XII. Denmark was powerful; and part of Italy ſubject to the maſters which had been impoſed upon it by foreign treaties. All, however, continued to enjoy a profound peace, till the death of Au⯑guſtus, King of Poland, again kindled up the gene⯑ral flame. The Emperor Charles VI, 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 had been long ſince elected King of Poland by Charles XII, and whoſe daughter had been ſince married to the French King. Staniſlaus repaired to Dantzick in order to ſupport his election; ten thouſand Ruſſians appear⯑ing, the Poliſh nobility diſperſed, and their new elect⯑ed Monarch was ſhut up, and beſieged by ſo ſmall a number of forces: the city was taken, and the King [...]ſcaped with the utmoſt difficulty, being made a pri⯑ [...]oner, and fifteen hundred Frenchmen that were ſent [...]o his aſſiſtance were made priſoners of war. He [...]ad now no hopes left but in the aſſiſtance of France, which accordingly reſolved to give him powerful ſuc⯑ [...]ours, by diſtreſſing the houſe of Auſtria. The views [...]f France were ſeconded by Spain and Sardinia; [...]oth hoped to grow more powerful by a diviſion of [...]he ſpoils of Auſtria; and France had motives of [...]liance and revenge. A French army therefore ſoon [...]ver-ran the empire under the conduct of old Marſhal [168] Villars; the Duke of Montemar, the Spaniſh gene⯑ral, was equally victorious in the kingdom of Na⯑ples; and the Emperor, Charles VI, had the morti⯑fication of ſeeing himſelf deprived of the greateſt part of Italy, for having attempted to give a King to Poland. Theſe rapid ſucceſſes of France and its allies ſoon compelled the Emperor to demand a peace. By this treaty Staniſlaus, upon whoſe account the war was undertaken, was obliged to renounce all right to the throne of Poland; and France made ſome valuable acqueſts of dominion; particularly the Duchy of Lorrain. In the year 1740, the death of the Emperor gave the French another opportunity of exerting their ambition. Regardleſs of treaties, particularly the pragmatic ſanction, as it was called, which ſettled upon the daughter of the Emperor the reverſion of all his dominions, they cauſed the Elec⯑tor of Bavaria to be crowned Emperor. Thus the daughter of Charles VI, deſcended from an illuſtri⯑ous line of Emperors, ſaw herſelf ſtripped of her in⯑heritance, and, for an whole year, without hopes of ſuccour. She had ſcarce cloſed her father's eyes, when ſhe loſt Sileſia, by an irruption of the young King of Pruſſia, who ſeized the opportunity of her defenceleſs ſtate, to renew his ancient pretenſions to that province of which it muſt be owned his anceſ⯑tors had been unjuſtly deprived. France, Saxony, and Bavaria, attacked the reſt of her dominions. In this forlorn ſituation ſhe found a powerful ally in Britain; Sardinia and Holland ſoon after came to her aſſiſtance; and, laſt of all, Ruſſia joined in her cauſe. It may be demanded, What part Britain had in theſe continental meaſures? The intereſts of Hanover; the ſecurity and aggrandizement of that Electorate, depended upon the proper regulation of the empire. Lord Carteret had now taken that place in the royal confidence which had formerly been poſſeſſed by Walpole; and, by purſuing theſe mea⯑ſures [169] he ſoothed the wiſhes of his maſter, and opened a more extenſive field for his own ambition. He ex⯑pected honour from victories which could produce no good; and campaigns, whether ſucceſsful or not, that could only terminate in misfortune. When the par⯑liament met, his Majeſty informed them of his ſtrict adherence to his engagements, though attacked in his own dominions; and that he had augmented the Bri⯑tiſh forces in the Low Countries with ſixteen thou⯑ſand Hanoverians. When the ſupplies came to be conſidered, by which this additional number of troops was to be paid, it raiſed violent debates in both houſes. It was conſidered as hiring the troops of the Electorate to fight their own cauſe. The mi⯑niſtry, however, who were formerly remarkable for declaiming againſt continental meaſures, now boldly ſtood up for them; and, at length, by dint of num⯑ber, carried their cauſe. The people ſaw, with pain, their former defenders ſacrificing the blood and trea⯑ſure of the nation upon deſtructive alliances; they knew not now on whom to rely for ſafety; and be⯑gan to think that patriotiſm was but an empty name. However injurious theſe meaſures might have been to the nation, they were of infinite ſervice to the Queen of Hungary. She began, at this period, to triumph over all her enemies. The French were driven out of Bohemia. Her general, Prince Charles, at the head of a large army, invaded the dominions of Bavaria. Her rival, the nominal Emperor, was obliged to fly before her; abandoned by his allies, and ſtripped of all his dominions, he repaired to Francfort, where he lived in indigence and obſcurity. He agreed to remain neuter during the remainder of [...]he war; while the French, who firſt began it as al⯑ [...]ies, ſupported the burthen. The troops ſent by England to the Queen's aſſiſtance were commanded by the Earl of Stair, an experienced commander, who had learned the art of war under the famous [710] Prince Eugene; and the chief object he had firſt in view was, to effect a junction with the army com⯑manded by Prince Charles of Lorrain. The French, in order to prevent this junction, aſſembled ſixty thouſand men upon the river Mayne, under the com⯑mand of Marſhal Noailles, who poſted his troops upon the eaſt ſide of that river. The Britiſh forces, to the number of forty thouſand, puſhed forward on the other ſide, while the French, in the mean time, found means to cut off all the communications by which they could be ſupplied with proviſions. The King of England arrived at the camp while the army was in this ſituation; and ſeeing it in danger of ſtarving, reſolved to proceed forward, to join twelve thouſand Hanoverians and Heſſians, who had reached Hanau. With this view he decamped; but before the army had marched three leagues, he found the enemy had incloſed him on every ſide, near a village called Detingen.. In this ſituation he muſt have fought at great diſadvantage, if he began the attack; and if he continued in the ſame ſituation, his army muſt have periſhed for want o [...] ſubſiſtence. The impetuoſity of the French, how⯑ever, ſaved the Engliſh army; they paſſed a defil [...] which they ſhould have guarded; and, under the conduct of the Duke of Gramont, their horſe charg⯑ed with great impetuoſity. They were received by the Engliſh infantry with undaunted reſolution; th [...] French were obliged to give way, and to paſs th [...] Mayne with great precipitation, with the loſs o [...] about five thouſand. The King, who was poſſeſſe [...] of perſonal courage, which ſeems hereditary to th [...] family, expoſed himſelf to a ſevere fire of cannon [...] as well as muſquetry; and, in the midſt of the rank [...] encouraged his troops, by his preſence and example [...] The whole of the battle, on either ſide, exhibited mo [...] courage than conduct. The Engliſh had the hono [...] of the day; but the French ſoon after took poſſeſſi [...] of the field of bat [...]le, treating the wounded Engli [...] [171] that were left behind with a clemency unprecedented in ancient hiſtory, and that ſerves to ſhew how much ſuperior the preſent times are in point of humanity to the boaſted ages of antiquity. Though the Eng⯑liſh were victorious upon this occaſion, yet the Earl of Stair, who commanded, did not aſſume any ho⯑nour from ſuch a victory; he was unwilling that his reputation ſhould ſuffer for meaſures, which he was not allowed to conduct; he therefore ſolicited, and obtained leave to reſign; and the Britiſh troops de⯑ſiſted from further operations that campaign.

Mean while the French went on with vigour on every quarter; they oppoſed Prince Charles of Lor⯑rain, and interrupted his progreſs in his attempts to paſs the Rhine, gained ſome ſucceſſes in Italy; but their chief expectations were placed in a projected in⯑vaſion of England. Cardinal Fleury was now dead, and Cardinal Tencin ſucceeded to his place a perſon of a very different character from his predeceſſor, proud, turbulent, and enterprizing. France. from the violence of parliamentary diſputes in England, had been long perſuaded that the country was ripe for a revolution, and only wanted the preſence of the Pretender to induce the majority to declare againſt the reigning family. Several needy adventurers, who wiſhed for a change; ſome men of broken fortunes, and almoſt all the Roman Catholics of the kingdom, endeavoured to confirm the court of France in theſe ſentiments. An invaſion therefore was actually pro⯑ [...]ected. Charles, ſon of the old Chevalier St. George, [...]eparted from Rome in the diſguiſe of a Spaniſh [...]ourier, and proſecuting his journey to Paris, had [...]n audience of the French King. The troops de⯑ [...]igned for this expedition amounted to fifteen thou⯑ [...]and; preparations were made for embarking them [...]t Dunkirk, and ſome other of the neareſt ports to England, under the eye of the young Pretender; and [...]even thouſand of the number actually went on [172] board. The Duke de Roquefuille, with twenty ſhip of the line, was to ſee them landed ſafely in England; and Count Saxe was to command them, when put aſhore. The whole project, however, was diſcon⯑certed by the appearance of Sir John Norris, with a ſuperior fleet, making up againſt them; the French fleet was obliged to put back; a very hard gale of wind damaged their tranſports beyond redreſs. All hopes of invaſion were now fruſtrated; and, at length, the French thought fit openly to declare war.

But, though fortune ſeemed to favour England on this occaſion, yet, on others, ſhe was not equally propitious. The combined fleets of France and Spain, for ſome time, fought the Britiſh armament under Admiral Matthews and Leſtock, though with infe⯑rior forces, and came off upon nearly equal terms, Such a parity of ſucceſs in England was regarded as a defeat. Both the Engliſh Admirals were tried by a court-martial; Mathews, who had fought the ene⯑my with intrepidity, was declared incapable of ſerv⯑ing for the future in his Majeſty's navy. Leſtock, who had kept aloof, was acquitted with honour, for he had intrenched 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 in the Netherlands were ſtill more unfavourable. The French had aſſembled a formid⯑able army of one hundred and twenty thouſand men; the chief command of which was given to Count Saxe. This General was originally a ſoldier of for⯑tune, and natural ſon to Auguſtus King of Poland, by the famous Counteſs of Konigſmark. He had been bred from his youth in camps, and had ſhewn the moſt early inſtances of cool intrepidity. He, in the beginning of the war, had offered his ſervice to ſeveral crowns, and, among the reſt, it is ſaid, to [...]hat of England; but his offers were rejected. He [173] was poſſeſſed of great military talents; and, by long habit, preſerved an equal compoſure in the midſt of battle, as in a drawing-room at court. On the other ſide, the allied forces, conſiſting of Engliſh, Hano⯑verians, Dutch, and Auſtrians, did not amount to above ſeventy thouſand. Theſe were incapable of withſtanding ſuch a ſuperior force, and commanded by ſuch a General. The French beſieged and took Fribourg, before they went into winter quarters; and early the next campaign inveſted the city of Tournay. The allies were reſolved to prevent the loſs of this city by a battle. Their army was infe⯑rior, and they were commanded by the Duke of Cum⯑berland. Notwithſtanding theſe diſadvantages they marched towards the enemy, and took poſt in ſight of the French army, which was incamped on an eminence; the village of Antoine on the right, a wood on their left, and the town of Fontenoy before them. This advantageous ſituation did not repreſs [...]he ardour of the Engliſh; on the thirtieth day of April the Duke of Cumberland marched to the at⯑ [...]ack at two o'clock in the morning. The Britiſh [...]nfantry pierced forward, bore down all oppoſition, [...]nd, for near an hour, were victorious. Marſhal Saxe was at that time ſick of the ſame diſorder of which he afterwards died. He viſited all the poſts [...] a litter, and ſaw, notwithſtanding all appearances, [...]hat the day was his own. The Engliſh column, [...]ithout command, by a mere mechanical courage, [...]ad advanced upon the enemies lines, which formed [...]n avenue on each ſide to receive them. The French [...]rtillery began to play upon this forlorn body; and, [...]ough they continued a long time unſhaken, they [...]ere obliged to retreat about three o'clock in the af⯑ [...]rnoon. This was one of the moſt bloody battles [...]at had been fought this age; the allies left upon [...]e field near twelve thouſand ſlain; and the French [...]ught their victory with near an equal number.

[174] This blow, by which Tournay was taken, gave the French a manifeſt ſuperiority all the reſt of the campaign, and which they did not forego during the continuance of the war. The Emperor, Charles VII, who had been raiſed to the throne from the duke⯑dom of Bavaria, and for whom the war firſt began was now dead; yet this did not in the leaſt reſtore tranquility to Europe. The Grand Duke of Tuſ⯑cany, huſband to the Queen of Hungary, was de⯑clared Emperor upon his deceaſe; but the war be⯑tween France and the allies ſtill continued; and the original views and intereſts ſeemed now quite for⯑gotten.

LETTER XXII.

THE intended French invaſion had rouzed al [...] the attention of the Engliſh miniſtry; and no⯑thing but loyalty breathed throughout the whol [...] kingdom. The adminiſtration of affairs being com⯑mitted to the Earl of Harrington, the Earl of Cheſter⯑field, and others, who enjoyed a great ſhare of po⯑pularity, the views of the crown were no longe [...] thwarted by an oppoſition in parliament. The Admiral [...] Rowley and Warren had retrieved the honour of th [...] Britiſh flag, and made ſeveral rich captures. Louiſ⯑burg in the iſland of Cape Breton, in North Ame⯑rica, a place of great conſequence to the Britiſ [...] commerce, ſurrendered to General Pepperel, whil [...] a ſhort time after, two French Eaſt-India ſhips, an [...] another from Peru laden with treaſure, ſuppoſing th [...] place ſtill in poſſeſſion of the French, ſailed into th [...] harbour, and their capture added to the Engliſh ſuc⯑ceſs. It was in this period of univerſal ſatisfactio [...] that the ſon of the old Pretender reſolved to mak [...] [175] an effort at gaining the Britiſh crown. Young Charles Edward, the adventurer in queſtion, had been bred in a luxurious court without ſharing its effeminacy; he was enterpriſing and ambitious; but, either from inexperience, or natural inability, utterly unequal to the undertaking. He was flattered by the raſh, the ſuperſtitious, and the needy, that the kingdom was ripe for a revolt; that the people could no longer bear the immenſe load of taxes, which was daily in⯑creaſing; and that the moſt conſiderable perſons in the kingdom would gladly ſeize the opportunity of crowding to his ſtandard. Being furniſhed with ſome money, and ſtill larger promiſes from France, who fanned this ambition in him, from which they hoped to gain ſome advantages; he embarked for Scot⯑land on board a ſmall frigate, accompanied by the Marquis Tullibardine, Sir. Thomas Sheridan, and a few other deſperate adventurers. For the conqueſt of the whole Britiſh empire he brought with him ſeven officers, and arms for two thouſand men. For⯑tune, which ever perſecuted his family, ſeemed no way more favourable to him; his convoy, a ſhip of ſixty guns, was ſo diſabled in an engagement with an Engliſh man of war, called the Lion, that it re⯑turned to Breſt, while he was obliged to continue his courſe to the weſtern parts of Scotland; and, landing on the coaſt of Lochaber, he was, in a little time, joined by ſome chiefs of the Highland Clans, and their vaſſals. Theſe chiefs had ever continued to exerciſe an hereditary juriſdiction over all their tenants. This power of life and death veſted in the Lords of the manor, was a privilege of the old feu⯑dal law, long aboliſhed in England, but which had been confirmed to the Scotch lairds at the time of the union. From hence we ſee, that a chief had the power of commanding all his vaſſals, and that im⯑mediate death was the conſequence of their diſobey⯑ [...]ng. By means of theſe chiefs therefore he ſoon [176] ſaw himſelf at the head of fifteen hundred men; and invited others to join him by his manifeſtoes, which were diſperſed throughout all the Highlands.

The boldneſs of this enterprize aſtoniſhed all Eu⯑rope; it awakened the fears of the puſillanimous, the pity of the wiſe, and the loyalty of all. The whole kingdom ſeemed unanimouſly bent upon oppoſing the enterprize, which they were ſenſible, as being ſup⯑ported only by Papiſts, would be inſtrumental in re⯑ſtoring Popery. The miniſtry was no ſooner con⯑firmed of the truth of his arrival, which, at firſt, they could ſcarely be induced to believe, than Sir John Cope was ordered to oppoſe his progreſs. In the mean time, the young adventurer marched to Perth, where the unneceſſary ceremony was perform⯑ed of proclaiming the Chevalier de St. George, his father, King of Great Britain. The rebel army, deſcending from the mountains, ſeemed to gather as it went. They advanced towards Edinburgh, which they entered without oppoſition. Here too the pa⯑geantry of proclamation was performed, in which he promiſed to diſſolve the union, and redreſs the grievances of the country. But, though he was maſter of the capital, yet the citadel, which goes by the name of the Caſtle, a ſtrong fortreſs built upon a rock, and commanded by General Gueſt, braved all his attempts. In the mean time, Sir John Cope, who had purſued them to the Highlands, but declin⯑ed meeting them in their deſcent, now reinforced by two regiments of dragoons, reſolved to march towards Edinburgh, and give them battle. The young adventurer, unwilling to give him time to re⯑treat, attacked him near Preſton-pans, about twelve miles from the capital, and, in a few minutes, put him and his troops totally to the route. This vic⯑tory, in which the King loſt about five hundred men, gave the rebels great influence; and, had the Pre⯑tender taken advantage of the general conſternation, [177] and marched towards England, the conſequence might have been dangerous to the ſafety of the ſtate; but he ſpent the time at Edinburgh, ſeeming to enjoy the uſeleſs parade of royalty, pleaſed at being addreſſed and treated as a King. By this time he was joined by the Earl of Kilmarnock, the Lords Elcho, Balmerino, Ogilvy, Pitſligo, and the eldeſt ſon of the Lord Lovat. This Lord Lovat was the ſame whom we have ſeen, upon a former occaſion, truſted by the old Pretender, and betraying him by taking poſſeſſion of the caſtle of Stirling for King George. This nobleman, true to neither party, had again altered from his attachment to the houſe of Hanover, and, in ſecret, aided the young Cheva⯑lier; ſtudious only for his own intereſt, he exerted all the arts of low cunning, to appear an open enemy to the rebellion; yet to give it ſecret aſſiſtance.

While the young Pretender thus trifled away the time at Edinburgh, (for all delays in dangerous en⯑terprizes are even worſe than defeats) the miniſtry of Great Britain took every poſſible meaſure to de⯑feat his intentions. Six thouſand Dutch troops that had come over to the aſſiſtance of the crown, were ſent northward, under the command of General Wade; but, as it was then ſaid, theſe could lend no aſſiſtance, as they were, properly ſpeaking, priſon⯑ers of France, and, upon their parole, not to oppoſe that power for the ſpace of one year. How⯑ever this be, the Duke of Cumberland ſoon after arrived from Flanders, and was followed by another detachment of dragoons and infantry; voluntiers in different parts of the kingdom employed themſelves [...]n the exerciſe of arms; and every county exerted [...] generous ſpirit of indignation, both againſt the [...]mbition, the religion, and the allies of the young [...]dventurer.

It would be illiberal and baſe, to deny this enter⯑ [...]iſing youth that praiſe which his merit may deſerve. [178] Though he might have brought civil war, and all the calamities attending it, with him, into the kingdom; yet we muſt conſider, that he had ever been taught that bathing his country in blood was but a juſt aſ⯑ſertion of his right; that altering the conſtitution and, perhaps, the religion of his ſuppoſed dominions was a laudable object of ambition. Thus inſpired he went forward with vigour, and reſolving to make an irruption into England, he entered it by the weſtern border, on the ſixth day of November. Car⯑liſle was inveſted, and, in leſs than three days, it ſur⯑rendered. Here he found a conſiderable quantity o [...] arms, and was declared King of Great Britain. Ge⯑neral Wade being apprized of his progreſs, advance [...] acroſs the country from the oppoſite ſhore; but, re⯑ceiving intelligence that the enemy were two day [...] march before him, he retired to his former ſtation [...] The young Pretender now reſolved to proceed, hav⯑ing received aſſurances from France that a conſider⯑able body of troops would be landed on the ſouther [...] coaſt of Britain, to make a diverſion in his favour [...] and, flattered with the hopes of being joined by [...] large body of Engliſh malecontents, as ſoon as h [...] ſhould make his appearance among them. Leavin [...] therefore a ſmall garriſon in Carliſle, which he ſhoul [...] rather have left defenceleſs, he advanced to Penrit [...] marching on foot in an Highland garb, and continue [...] his irruption till he came to Mancheſter, where h [...] eſtabliſhed his head quarters. He was here joine [...] by about two hundred Engliſh men, who were forme [...] into a regiment, under the command of Colon [...] Townley. From hence he proſecuted his route t [...] Derby, intending to go by the way of Cheſter int [...] Wales, where he hoped for a great number of adhe⯑rents. He was, by this time, advanced within a [...] hundred miles of the capital, which was filled wit [...] terror and confuſion. The King reſolved to take th [...] field in perſon. The voluntiers of the city were in⯑corporated [179] into a regiment. The practitioners of the law reſolved to take the field, with the judges at their head. Even the managers of the theatres of⯑fered to raiſe a body of their dependants for the ſer⯑vice of their country. Yet theſe combinations only ſerved as inſtances of the national terror; for the trading part of the city, and thoſe concerned in the money corporations, were overwhelmed with dejec⯑tion. They could hope for little ſafety in the cou⯑rage or diſcipline of a militia, eſpecially as they, every hour, dreaded an invaſion from France, and an inſurrection of the Roman Catholics, and other friends to the expelled family. This therefore was the moment for the advancement of the adventurer's enterprize. Had he marched up to the capital, he would undoubtedly have been joined by ſeveral, ſe⯑cretly attached to his cauſe. But he determined to retreat once more to Scotland; and thus his ſcheme was defeated. In fact, he was but nominally the leader of his forces. His Generals, the chiefs of Highland Clans, were, from their education, igno⯑rant; and, from their independency, obſtinate. They each embraced peculiar ſyſtems, and began to con⯑tend with each other for the pre-eminence; ſo that after violent diſputes, they reſolved to march back. They effected their retreat to Carliſle without any loſs; and from thence croſſed the rivers Eden and Solway into Scotland. In this irruption, however, they preſerved all the rules of war; they deſiſted, in a great meaſure, from rapine; levied contributions; and, in the uſual form, left a garriſon at Carliſle in their retreat; which, a ſhort time after, to the num⯑ber of four hundred, ſurrendered, to the Duke of Cumberland, priſoners at diſcretion. The Pretender, being returned to Scotland, proceeded to Glaſgow; from which city he exacted ſevere contributions. Advancing to Stirling, he was joined by Lord Lewis Gordon, at the head of ſome forces which had been [180] aſſembled in his abſence. Other Clans, to the num⯑ber of two thouſand, came in likewiſe; Spain ſent him ſome ſupplies of money; and, in one or two ſkirmiſhes with the loyaliſts, his Generals came off with victory; ſo that his affairs once more ſeemed to wear an aſpect of ſucceſs. Being joined by John Lord Drummond, he inveſted the caſtle of Stirling, commanded by General Blakeney; but his forces be⯑ing unuſed to ſieges, conſumed much time to no purpoſe. General Hawley, who commanded a con⯑ſiderable body of forces near Edinburgh, undertook to raiſe the ſiege. He advanced towards the rebel army, and rendezvouſed his whole force at Falkirk, while the rebels lay incamped at no great diſtance. After two days, mutually examining each other's ſtrength, the rebels, on the ſeventeenth day of Janu⯑ary, came on in full ſpirits to attack the King's army. The Pretender, who ſtood in the front line, gave the ſignal to fire; and the firſt volley ſerved to put Hawley's forces into confuſion. The horſe re⯑treated with precipitation, and fell in upon their own infantry; the rebels followed their blow; and the greateſt part of the royal army fled with the utmoſt precipitation. They retired in confuſion to Edin⯑burgh, leaving the field of battle, with part of their tents and artillery, to the rebels.

This was the end of all their triumphs. A new ſcene of conduct was now going to open; for the Duke of Cumberland, at that time the favourite of the Engliſh army, had put himſelf at the head of the troops at Edinburgh, which conſiſted of about fourteen thouſand men. He reſolved therefore to come to a battle as ſoon as poſſible; and marched forward, while the young adventurer retired at his approach. The Duke advanced to Aberdeen, where he was joined by the Duke of Gordon, and ſome other Lords, attached to his family and cauſe. After having refreſhed his troops here for ſome time, he re⯑newed [181] his march; and, in twelve days, came upon the banks of the deep and rapid river Spey. This was a place where the rebels might have diſputed his paſſage; but they ſeemed now totally void of all counſel and ſubordination, without conduct, and without expectation. The Duke ſtill proceeded in his purſuit; and, at length, had advice that the ene⯑my had advanced from Inverneſs to the Plain of Culloden, which was about nine miles diſtant, and there intended to give him battle. On this Plain the Highlanders were drawn up in order of battle, to the number of eight thouſand men, in thirteen diviſions, ſupplied with ſome pieces of artillery. The battle began about one o'clock in the afternoon; the canon of the King's army did dreadful execution among the enemy, while theirs, being but ill ſerved, was ineffectual. One of the great errors in all the Pre⯑tender's warlike meaſures, was his ſubjecting undiſ⯑ciplined troops to the forms of artful war, and thus repreſſing their native ferocity, from which alone he could hope for ſucceſs. After they had ſtood the Engliſh fire for ſome time, they, at length, became impatient for cloſer engagement; and about five hun⯑dred of them attacked the Engliſh left wing, with their accuſtomed fierceneſs. The firſt line being diſ⯑ordered by this onſet, two battalions advanced to ſupport it, and galled the enemy by a terrible and cloſe diſcharge. At the ſame time the dragoons un⯑der Hawley, and the Argyleſhire militia, pulling down a park wall that guarded the enemy's flank, and which the rebels had left but feebly defended, fell in among them, ſword in hand, with great ſlaugh⯑ter. 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. Civil war is in itſelf terrible, but ſtill more ſo when heightened by cruelty. How guilty ſoever men may be, it is ever the buſineſs of a ſoldier to remember, [182] that he is only to fight an enemy that oppoſes him, and to ſpare the ſupplicant. This victory was in every reſpect complete; and humanity to the con⯑quered would even have made it glorious. The con⯑querors often refuſed mercy to wretches who were defenceleſs or wounded; and ſoldiers were ſeen to anticipate the baſe employment of the executioner.

Thus ſunk all the hopes, and 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 out-caſt, ſhunned by all mankind, except ſuch as ſought to take his life. To the good-natured, ſubſequent diſ⯑treſs often atones for former guilt; and while reaſon would repreſs humanity, yet our hearts plead in the favour of the wretched. The Duke, immediately after the deciſive action at Culloden, ordered ſix-and-thirty deſerters to be executed; the conquerors ſpread terror wherever they came; and, after a ſhort time, the whole country round was one ſcene of ſlaughter, deſolation, and plunder; juſtice ſeemed forgotten; and vengeance aſſumed the name.

In the mean time, the unhappy fugitive adventurer wandered from mountain to mountain, a wretched ſpectator of all theſe horrors, the reſult of his ill-guided ambition. He now underwent a ſimiliarity of adventures with Charles II, after the defeat at Worceſter. He ſometimes found refuge in caves and cottages, without attendants, and expoſed to the mercy of peaſants, who could pity but not ſupport him. Sometimes he lay in foreſts, with one or two companions of his diſtreſs, continually purfued by the troops of the conquerors, as there was thirty thouſand pounds bid for his head. Sheridan, an Iriſh adventurer, was he who kept moſt faithfully by him, and inſpired him with courage to ſupport ſuch incre⯑dible hardſhips. He was obliged to truſt his life to the fidelity of about fifty individuals. One day, hav⯑ing [183] walked from morning till night, preſſed by hun⯑ger, and worn with fatigue, he ventured to enter an houſe, the owner of which he well knew was at⯑tached to the oppoſite party: ‘The ſon of your King, ſaid he, entering, comes to beg a bit of bread and cloaths. I know your preſent attachment to my adverſaries, but I be⯑lieve you to have ſufficient honour not to abuſe my confidence, or to take the advantage of my misfortunes. Take theſe rags that have for ſome time been my only covering, and keep them. You may, probably, reſtore them to me one day, when ſeated on the throne of the Kings of Great Bri⯑tain.’ His hoſt was touched with his diſtreſs; aſſiſted him as far as he was able, and never divulged his ſecret. In this manner he wandered among the frightful wilds of Glengarry, for near ſix months, often hemmed round by his purſuers, but ſtill find⯑ing ſome expedient to ſave him from captivity and death. At length a privateer of St. Malo, hired by his adherents, arrived in Lochnanach, on which he embarked, and arrived at France in ſafety,

Many were the conjectures then, and they ſtill ſubſiſt, as to the poſſibility of the young adventurer's eſcape. Some were of opinion that the government gave ſecret orders to the Generals to connive at it; while others ſtill firmly aſſert, that he was put to death in an out-houſe, in which a number of the re⯑bels were incloſed and burnt. Which ever report be moſt true, certain it is, that the place of his re⯑treat has ever ſince been concealed from all the world.

While the Prince thus led a wandering and ſoli⯑tary life, the ſcaffolds and the gibbets were bathed with the blood of his adherents; ſeventeen officers of the rebel army were executed at Kennington-Com⯑mon, in the neighbourhood of London, whoſe con⯑ſtancy in death gained more proſelytes to their cauſe than perhaps their victories could have done. Nine were executed in the ſame manner at Carliſle; ſix at [184] Brumpton; ſeven at Penrith; and eleven at York A few obtained pardons; and a conſiderable numbe were tranſported to the Plantations. The Earls o Kilmarnock and Cromartie, with the Lord Balmerino were tried by their Peers, and found guilty. Cro⯑martie was pardoned; the other two were beheaded on Tower-Hill. Kilmarnock, either from convic⯑tion, or from the hope of a pardon, owned his crime, and declared his repentance of it. On the other hand, Balmerino, who had from his youth up, been bred to arms, died in a more daring man⯑ner. When his fellow ſufferer, as commanded, bid God bleſs King George, Balmerino ſtill held faſt to his principles, and cried out, God bleſs King James, and ſuffered with the utmoſt intrepidity. Lord Lovat, and Mr. Radcliff the titular Earl of Derwentwater, ſuffered the ſame fate with equal reſolution. Thus ended a rebellion, dictated by youth and preſumption, and conducted without art or reſolution. The fa⯑mily of Stewart found fortune become more averſe at every new ſolicitation of her favours. Let pri⯑vate men, who complain of the miſeries of this life, only turn to the viciſſitudes in that family, and learn to bleſs God, and be happy.

LETTER XXIII.

A Rebellion quelled, and mercy ſhewn to the de⯑linquents, ever ſtrengthens the reigning cauſe. How it might have been in the preſent inſtance I will not pretend to determine; whether too much ri⯑gour might have been exerted upon the conquered, poſterity muſt determine; actions of this kind are too near our own times to be either judged of, or talked of with freedom. Immediately after the re⯑bellion [185] was ſuppreſſed, the legiſlature undertook to eſtabliſh ſeveral regulations in Scotland, which were equally conducive to the happineſs of the people there, and the tranquility of the united kingdom. The Highlanders, who had, till this time, continued to wear the old military dreſs of the Romans, and who always went armed, were now reformed. Their habits were, by act of parliament, reduced to the modern modes; the obedience they were under to their chiefs was aboliſhed, and the loweſt ſubject of that part of the kingdom was granted a participation of Britiſh freedom.

But whatever tranquility might have been reſtored by theſe means at home, the flames of war ſtill con⯑tinued to rage upon the continent with its accuſtomed violence. The French went forward with rapid ſuc⯑ceſs, having reduced almoſt the whole Netherlands to their obedience. In vain the Dutch negotiated, ſupplicated, and evaded war; they ſaw themſelves ſtripped of all thoſe ſtrong towns which defended their dominions from invaſion; and they now lay almoſt defenceleſs, ready to receive terms from their conquerors. The Dutch, at this time, were very different from their forefathers, the brave aſſertors of liberty, in the beginning of their republic; the individuals of their ſtate were rich, while the go⯑vernment was poor; they had loſt, in a ſpirit of traffic and luxury, all generoſity of ſentiment, and deſire of independence; they only ſought riches, re⯑gardleſs of public virtue. They were divided in their councils between two factions which now ſubſiſted, namely, that which declared for a Stadtholder, and that which, with attachments to France, oppoſed his election. The prevalence of either ſide was almoſt equally fatal to liberty; if a Stadtholder was elected, they then ſaw their conſtitution altered from a re⯑public to a kind of limited monarchy; if the oppo⯑ſite party prevailed, they were to feel the weight of a [186] confirmed ariſtocracy, confirmed by French power, and crouching under its authority. Of the two e [...]s they choſe the former; the people, in ſeveral to [...]ns, inflamed almoſt to tumult and ſedition, compelled their magiſtrates to declare for the Prince of Orange as Stadtholder, Captain-general and Admiral of the United Provinces. The vigorous conſequences of this reſolution immediately appeared; all commerce with the French was prohibited; the Dutch army was augmented; and orders were iſſued to commence hoſtilities againſt the French by ſea and land.

Thus we ſee this war diffuſed throughout the whole ſyſtem of Europe, in ſome meaſure reſembling a diſorder, the ſymptoms of which, at different times, appear in different parts of the body, remitting and raging by turns. At the commencement of the war we have ſeen the Queen of Hungary upon the point of loſing all her poſſeſſions. Soon after we ſaw the unfortunate Duke of Bavaria, who had been choſen Emperor by the name of Charles VII, baniſhed from his throne, ſtripped of his hereditary dukedom, and ever ſhrinking from ſurrounding dangers. We have ſeen the Duke of Savoy, now King of Sardinia, changing that ſide which ſome years before he eſpouſed, and, joining with Auſtria and England, againſt the ambitious deſigns of France, while Italy ſtill felt all the terrors of war, or rather ſaw foreigners contending with each other for her domi⯑nions; the French and Spaniards on one ſide, the Imperialiſts and the King of Sardinia on the other. Thus Rome, that once gave laws to the world, now ſaw the troops of Germany and Spain, by turns, enter into her territories; and, after various com⯑bats, ſhe, at laſt, ſaw the Imperialiſts become ma⯑ſters. The Spaniards and French loſt the moſt flou⯑riſhing armies, notwithſtanding the excellent con⯑duct of the Prince of Conti their General; and, at laſt, after a bloody victory obtained over the Spa⯑niards [187] [...] St. Lazaro, the beautiful city of Genoa, which [...]d ſided with Spain, was obliged to ſubmit to the conquerors, to ſuffer ſome indignities impoſed upon them, and to pay a moſt ſevere contribution.

The city of Genoa had, for ages before, main⯑tained its own laws, and boaſted of liberty. Beſides its inner wall, it had another formed by a chain of rocks of more than two leagues extent; but both being built in thoſe times when modern fortification was yet unknown, it was not thought, by its Senate, capable of making a proper reſiſtance. Upon ſub⯑mitting, the unhappy Italians too ſoon found that no mercy was to be expected from the court of Vi⯑enna, which had ever patronized oppreſſion. More than a million ſterling was demanded for a contribu⯑tion; a tax, the payment of which muſt have utterly ruined the city. The magiſtrates did all in their power to pay the exorbitant ſum demanded; and the German troops exerciſed every inhumanity in exact⯑ing it. The conquerors lived upon the people, and treated them with an inſolence which was natural to them as conquerors, and as Germans. The Genoeſe were, at length, reduced to deſpair, and were reſolved to make a laſt effort for the recovery of their liberty and independence. The Auſtrians took the cannon of the city, in order to tranſport them to Provence, where their arms had already penetrated. The Ge⯑noeſe themſelves were obliged to draw thoſe cannon which they had once conſidered as the defence and ornament of their citadel. It was on this occaſion that an Auſtrian officer ſtruck one of the citizens, who had been employed in this laborious taſk. This blow ſerved to animate the people with their former ſpirit of freedom. They took up arms in every quarter of the town, and ſurprized ſome battalions of the Auſtrians, ſurrounded others, and cut them in pieces. The Senate, uncertain how to proceed, nei⯑ther encouraged nor ſtopped the citizens, who drove [188] the Auſtrians intirely out, and then appointed com⯑manders, and guarded the walls with the utmoſt re⯑gularity.

This revolution in a little city, the tranſactions of which has filled whole Folios of hiſtory, ſhould not be paſſed over without remark; though no longer capable of maintaining its liberties amidſt the ſhock of the enormous powers of Europe; yet ſtill we find it poſſeſſed of its ancient ſpirit; only to loſe it, how⯑ever, by the prevailing power of the Senate, which eſtabliſhed their ariſtocracy on the necks of the citi⯑zens, as before.

In this manner we ſee victory and miſcarriage mutually declaring for either; all ſides growing more feeble, and none acquiring any real recompence for the loſſes ſuſtained. Thus, about this time, the Engliſh made an unſucceſsful expedition into France, in order to attack Port l'Orient, in which they came off without any honour. The French gained a con⯑ſiderable victory at Rocroux in Flanders, over the allies, although it procured them no real advantage; and it coſt them a greater number of lives than thoſe whom they obliged to retire. The Dutch, in this general conflict, ſeemed the greateſt loſers. A vic⯑tory gained over the allies at La Feldt ſerved to re⯑duce them to a ſtill greater degree of diſtruſt in their Generals, than they had hitherto ſhewn: but the taking of Bergen-op-Zoom, the ſtrongeſt fortification of Dutch Brabant, and which put the French in poſſeſſion of the whole navigation of the Schelde, threw them almoſt into deſpair. But theſe victories, in favour of France, were counterbalanced with al⯑moſt equal diſappointments. In Italy, the French General, Marſhal Belliſle's brother, at the head of thirty-four thouſand men, attempted to penetrate into Piedmont; but his troops were put to the route, and he himſelf ſlain. The French King equipped an un⯑ſucceſsful armament for the recovery of Cape Bre⯑ton; [189] and, not diſcouraged by this failure, fitted out two ſquadrons, one to make a deſcent upon the Bri⯑tiſh Colonies in America, and the other to aſſiſt the operations in the Eaſt Indies. Theſe, however, were attacked by Anſon and Warren, and nine of their ſhips were taken. Soon after this Commodore Fox, with ſix ſhips of war, took above forty French ſhips laden from St. Domingo; and this loſs was ſoon after followed by another defeat, which the French fleet ſuſtained from Admiral Hawke, in which ſeven ſhips of the line, and ſeveral frigates, were taken.

This variety of ſucceſs ſerved to make all the powers at war heartily deſirous of a peace. The States-General had, for ſome years, endeavoured to ſtop the progreſs of a war, in which they could gain no advantages, and had all to loſe. The King of France was ſenſible, that, after a victory, was the moſt advantageous opportunity of propoſing terms of peace; and even expreſſed his deſire of general tran⯑quility, in a perſonal converſation with Sir John Li⯑gonier, who had been made priſoner in the laſt victory obtained by the French at La Feldt. The bad ſuc⯑ceſs of his admirals at ſea, his Generals misfortunes in Italy, the frequent bankruptcies of his ſubjects, the election of a Stadtholder in Holland, who oppoſed his intereſts, his views in Germany intirely fruſtrated by the elevation of the Duke of Tuſcany to rule the Empire; all theſe contributed to make him weary of the war. An accommodation was therefore agreed upon; and the contending powers agreed to a con⯑greſs at Aix la Chapelle, where the Earl of Sand⯑wich and Sir Thomas Robinſon aſſiſted as plenipo⯑tentiaries from the King of Great Britain. The treaty which takes its name from that city, was con⯑cluded on the ſeventh day of October, a laſting in⯑ſtance of precipitate counſels and Engliſh humility. By this it was agreed, that all priſoners, on each [...]ide, ſhould be mutually reſtored, and all conqueſts [190] given up. That the Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guaſtalla, ſhould be ceded to Don Philip, heir apparent to the Spaniſh throne, and his heirs; but in caſe of his ſucceeding to the crown of Spain, that then theſe dominions ſhould revert to the houſe of Auſtria. That the fortifications of Dunkirk to the ſea ſhould be demoliſhed; that the ſhip annually ſent with ſlaves to the coaſt of Spain, ſhould have this privilege continued for four years; that the King o [...] Pruſſia ſhould be ſecured in the poſſeſſion of Sileſia [...] which he had conquered; and that the Queen o [...] Hungary ſhould be ſecured in her patrimonial domi⯑nions. But one article of the peace was more diſ⯑pleaſing and afflictive to the Engliſh than all the reſt [...] for it was agreed, that ſhe ſhould give two perſon [...] of rank and diſtinction to France as hoſtages, unt [...] reſtitution ſhould be made of all the conqueſts whic [...] England poſſeſſed of the enemy, either in the Ea [...] or Weſt-Indies. This was a mortifying ſtipulation [...] but there was no mention made of the ſearchin [...] Engliſh ſhips in the American ſeas, upon which th [...] war originally began. The treaty of Utrecht ha [...] long been a ſubject of reproach to thoſe by whom [...] was negotiated; but, with all its faults, the trea [...] that was juſt concluded was far more deſpicable a [...] erroneous. The honour of the nation was forgo [...] ⯑ten; its intereſts left undetermined. Yet ſuch w [...] the ſtrange infatuation of the multitude, that t [...] treaty of Utrecht was held in univerſal contemp [...] and this was extolled with the higheſt ſtrain of pan [...] ⯑gyric. The truth is, the people were wearied wi [...] repeated diſgrace, and only expected an accumul [...] ⯑tion of misfortunes by continuing the war. T [...] miniſters and their emiſſaries, about this period, h [...] the art of perſuading men to what they thoug [...] proper, and repreſented the circumſtances of the [...] ⯑tion as flouriſhing, though the public was groani [...] [191] beneath an immenſe load of debt; and though all meaſures were guided by an ignorant and unconſti⯑tutional faction.

LETTER XXIV.

THIS peace might, in every reſpect, be termed only a temporary ceſſation from general hoſti⯑lities; though the war between England and France had actually ſubſided in Europe, yet in the Eaſt and Weſt-Indies they ſtill carried on hoſtile operations, both ſides equally culpable, yet each complaining of the infraction.

In the mean time, as Europe enjoyed a temporary tranquility, the people of England expected, and the government promiſed them, a reſtitution of thoſe bleſſings which had been taken from them by a long and obſtinate war. A magnificent firework was played off upon this occaſion; which, though an uſe⯑leſs and vain expence, ſerved to amuſe the populace, and render them more contented with the late pre⯑carious treaty.

The miniſtry alſo ſhewed ſome deſire to promote the commerce of the kingdom; and, for this pur⯑poſe, a bill was paſſed for encouraging a Britiſh her⯑ring fiſhery, under proper regulations. From ſuch a ſcheme carried into execution, great advantages were expected to accrue; the Dutch, who had long en⯑ [...]oyed the ſole profits ariſing from it, conſidered the [...]ea as a mine of inexhauſtible wealth. However, [...]xperience has ſhewn that the Engliſh were either [...]ncapable of turning this fiſhery to the ſame ad⯑ [...]antage, or that their company was not eſtabliſhed [...]ith the moſt ſtrict oeconomy. Private perſons have [...]ften been found to make fortunes by this fiſhery; [192] but the company have found themſelves conſiderabl [...] loſers.

A ſcheme, which, by many, was thought ſtill mor [...] advantageous to the nation, was, the encouragin [...] thoſe who had been diſcharged the army or navy, t [...] become members of a new colony in North America [...] called Nova Scotia. To this retreat, it was thought [...] the waſte of an exuberant nation might well be drain⯑ed off; and here thoſe free ſpirits might be kep [...] employed, who, if ſuffered to remain at home, would only prey upon the community. This was a cold climate, and a barren ſoil, where the Engliſh had a fort, and a ſmall garriſon, rather to intimidate the neighbouring French, and repreſs their incroach⯑ments, than to derive any advantages from the im⯑provement of trade, or the cultivation of the coun⯑try. It was here that a ſcheme was laid for the foundation of a new colony, which might improve the fiſhery upon that coaſt, and become a new ſource of wealth to the mother country. Thus did the nation exchange her hardy and veteran troops for the expectation of precarious wealth. Every colony taken from the parent country ſerves to leſſen its ſtrength; and all the wealth imported into it, after it has be⯑come moderately rich, being only uſed as the inſtru⯑ment of luxury, inſtead of invigorating the nation, tends to render it more effeminate.

However, it was advertiſed by authority, that all proper encouragement would be given to ſuch officers and private men, who, being diſcharged from the ſervice of the government, ſhould be willing to ſet⯑tle in Nova Scotia. Fifty acres of land were granted to every private ſoldier or ſeaman, free from taxes for ten years, and then to pay only one ſhilling a year. Beſides this fifty, ten acres more were to be granted to every individual of which each family ſhould conſiſt. Every officer, under the rank of en⯑ſign, was to have fourſcore acres; enſigns were to [193] have two hundred, lieutenants three, captains four, and thoſe above that rank ſix. Such offers failed not to induce numbers to try their fortunes on that deſolate coaſt; and, in a little time, about four thou⯑ſand adventurers, with their families, were carried thither; a town named Halifax was built; and the coloniſts left to glean a ſcanty ſubſiſtance from an ungrateful ſoil. Since that time, notwithſtanding all the encouragement this colony has received from the government, the inhabitants have cleared but a very ſmall part of the woods with which the face of the country is covered. Agriculture is quite forſaken; and the ſettlement intirely ſubſiſts by the ſums ex⯑pended by the army and navy ſtationed in this part of the weſtern world.

Here thoſe voluntary out-caſts of their country expected to live, though hardly, yet at leaſt ſecurely; but, in this they found themſelves diſappointed. The Indians, a ſavage and fierce people, from the firſt looked upon theſe ſettlements of the Engliſh as an in⯑croachment upon their own liberties; and the French, who were equally jealous, fomented theſe outrages. Commiſſaries were therefore appointed to meet at Paris, and compromiſe theſe diſputes; but theſe con⯑ferences were rendered abortive by mutual cavillings, and all the arts of evaſion.

In the mean time Mr. Pelham, who chiefly con⯑ducted the buſineſs of the ſtate, and was eſteemed a man of candour and capacity, laid a ſcheme for lightening the immenſe load of debt that was laid upon the nation. His plan was to leſſen the national incumbrance, by lowering the intereſt which had been promiſed upon the firſt raiſing the ſupply, or obliging the lenders to receive the ſums originally granted. Thoſe who were proprietors of ſtocks, and received, for the uſe of their money, four per cent., were, by royal authority, ordered to ſubſcribe their names, ſig⯑nifying their conſent to accept of three pounds ten [194] ſhillings per cent. a year after, and three per cent. onl [...] about ſix years after their thus ſubſcribing; and, i [...] caſe of a refuſal, that the government would pay o [...] the principal. This ſcheme was attended with th [...] deſired effect; though it, in ſome meaſure, was [...] force upon the lender, who had originally grante [...] his money upon different terms, yet it was ſalutar [...] to the nation; and, as Machiavel has it, politic [...] injuſtice is ſometimes allowable, in order to ſecur [...] national benefits. Beſides this ſalutary meaſure, other [...] were purſued by the miniſter at the helm, with equa [...] ſucceſs. The importation of iron from America wa [...] allowed, and the trade to Africa laid open to th [...] whole nation; but, at the ſame time, to be ſuper⯑intended by the board of trade and plantations.

But all the advantages the nation reaped from theſe ſalutary meaſures, were not ſufficient to counter-balance the ſtroke which liberty received (as ſome are of opinion) by an unuſual ſtretch of the privileges of the houſe of commons. As this is a point which deſerves the ſtricteſt attention, permit me to trace it up to the ſource. The city of Weſtminſter had long been repreſented by members who were nominated, in ſome meaſure, by the miniſtry; Lord Trentham having vacated his ſeat in the houſe, by accepting a place under the crown, he again declared himſelf a candidate; but met with violent oppoſition. It was objected to him by ſome, that he had been uncom⯑monly active in introducing ſome French ſtrollers, who had come over to exhibit plays upon the ſup⯑preſſion of our own. This accuſation, whether true or falſe, excited numbers againſt him, who ſtyled themſelves the independent electors of Weſtminſter, and named Sir George Vandeput, a private gentleman, as his competitor. The oppoſition reſolved to ſup⯑port their candidate at their own expence. They accordingly opened houſes of entertainment, ſolicited votes, and propagated abuſe as uſual. At length, [195] the poll being cloſed, the majority appeared in favour of Lord Trentham; a ſcrutiny was demanded by the other ſide; it was protracted by the obſtinacy of both parties; but this alſo turning out in favour of Lord Trentham, the independent electors petitioned the houſe, complaining of an undue election, and of partiality and injuſtice in the high-bailiff of Weſt⯑minſter, who took the poll. To this petition the houſe paid little regard, but proceeded to examine the high-bailiff as to the cauſes that had ſo long pro⯑tracted the election; who laid the blame upon Mr. Crowle, who had acted as council for the petitioners, on the honourable Alexander Murray, and one Gib⯑ſon an upholſterer. Theſe three perſons were there⯑fore brought to the bar of the houſe; Crowle and Gibſon, after having aſked pardon upon their knees, and, being reprimanded by the houſe, were diſmiſſed. Murray was firſt admitted to bail; but, after ſome witneſſes had depoſed, that he had headed a mob to intimidate the voters, it was voted that he ſhould be committed a cloſe priſoner to Newgate; and, to in⯑vigorate their meaſures, that he ſhould receive this ſentence at the bar of the houſe on his knees. He accordingly appeared; but being directed by the Speaker to kneel, refuſed to comply. This refuſal threw the whole houſe into a commotion; and it was ordered that he ſhould be committed cloſe pri⯑ſoner to Newgate, debarred the uſe of pen, ink, and paper, and that no perſon ſhould have acceſs to him without permiſſion from the houſe. This impriſon⯑ment he underwent, ſenſible that it could continue no longer than while they continued to ſit; and, at the cloſe of the ſeſſion, he was conducted from pri⯑ſon to his own houſe, amidſt the acclamations of the people. He now was thought, by many, intirely free from all farther proſecution; but, in this, they were miſtaken; for, at the opening of the enſuing ſitting of parliament, a motion was made, that Mr. [196] Murray ſhould be again committed cloſe priſoner to the Tower. Hitherto it was ſuppoſed by ſeveral, that the houſe of commons had acted with a ſpirit of reſentment. Now it was thought, that they made an attempt at extending their privileges. Though the delinquent, a perſon of no great conſequence in himſelf, had taken the prudent precautions of re⯑tiring from their reſentment, yet ſeveral of the people ſaw that the houſe conſidered itſelf rather as a body diſtinct from the people, than the guardians of the people; and, inſtead of maintaining the liber⯑ties of the ſubject in general, attempted to increaſe their own. Some thought they ſaw, in this mea⯑ſure, the ſeeds of future ariſtocracy; that the houſe of commons conſtituted themſelves judges of their own privileges; and that the liberty of every indi⯑vidual in ſociety was at the diſpoſal of a body who profeſſed acting chiefly for their own honour.

However this may be, another meaſure was ſoon after taken, which, in reality, made diſtinctions among the people, and laid an unpaſſable line be⯑tween the rich and poor. This was an 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 to redreſs, was, that the ſons and daughters of opulent families were often ſeduced into marriage, before they had acquired ſufficient experience in life to be ſenſible of the diſparity of fortune in the match. This ſtatute therefore enacted, that the bans of mar⯑riage ſhould be regularly publiſhed three ſucceſſive Sundays in the church of the pariſh where both par⯑ties had reſided for one month at leaſt, before the ceremony. That a marriage which was ſolemnized without this previous publication, or a licenſe ob⯑tained from the Biſhop's Court, ſhould be void, and the perſon who ſolemnized it ſhould be tranſported for ſeven years. This act was, at that time, thought [197] replete with conſequences injurious to ſociety; and experience has manifeſted ſome of them; villains have gone about deceiving ignorant women, under a pretence of marriage, and then have left them without redreſs. The poor were thus rendered ut⯑terly incapable of making alliances with the rich; and the wealth of the nation has thus been more li⯑able to accumulation in opulent families. It has been thought to impede that ardour which impels many to marry; and to clog a ceremony of the moſt infinite advantage to ſociety, with procraſtination and delay. Some have affirmed, that debaucheries and lewdneſs have become more frequent ſince the enact⯑ing this law; and it is believed, that the numbers of the people are upon the decline.

This ſeſſion of parliament was alſo diſtinguiſhed by another act equally unpopular, and, perhaps, equally injurious to the religion of the community. This was a law for naturalizing the Jews. The miniſters boldly affirmed, that ſuch a law would greatly contribute to the advantage of the nation; that it would increaſe the credit and commerce of the kingdom, and ſet a laudable example of political toleration. Many others, however, were of very different ſentiments; they ſaw that greater favour was ſhewn, by this bill, to Jews, than to ſome other ſects profeſſing the Chriſtian religion; that an intro⯑duction of this people into the kingdom would diſ⯑grace the character of the nation, and cool the zeal of the natives already too lukewarm. However, not⯑withſtanding all oppoſition, this bill was paſſed into a law; nor was it till the enſuing ſeſſion of parlia⯑ment, that it was thought neceſſary to be repealed.

An act, equally unpopular with the two former, was now alſo paſſed, which contained regulations for the better preſerving the game. By this none but men already poſſeſſed of a ſtated fortune, had a pri⯑vilege of carrying a gun, or deſtroying game, though [198] even upon the grounds which he himſelf rented. This totally damped all that martial ſpirit among the lower orders of mankind, by preventing their hand⯑ling thoſe arms which might one day be neceſſary to defend their country; and gave the rich the ſole in⯑joyment of a pleaſure, which, before, had been con⯑ſidered as the common privilege of humanity. Such were the laws paſſed this ſeſſion; through all which a ſpirit of ariſtocracy was diſcerned by ſome. The body of the rich no longer fearing oppreſſion from the throne, or an infringement of their own liberties, now began to lean heavy upon the poor, and to con⯑ſider the intereſts of that uſeful part of ſociety, as in⯑tirely diſtinct from their own. They never omitted, however, the uſual addreſſes to the throne; and this ſeſſion was remarkable for an addreſs of thanks to his Majeſty for maintaining, and rendering perma⯑nent, the general tranquility of Europe, at a time when war was kindling in almoſt every quarter of the world.

LETTER XXV.

IF we ſeek for the origin of that war which now threatened univerſal devaſtation, we ſhall find it kindling up in ſeveral countries, both of Europe, America, and Aſia, at one and the ſame time. Moſt other national conteſts have ariſen from ſome one principal cauſe; but this war ſeems to have been pro⯑duced by the concurrence of ſeveral, or it may be conſidered as the continuance of the late war, which had not been effectually extinguiſhed by the defective treaty of Aix la Chapelle.

In Aſia, upon the coaſt of Malabar, the Engliſh and French had never ceaſed hoſtilities. The claim [199] of Pruſſia and Auſtria, upon the territories of Sileſia, had never been thoroughly adjuſted. The limits of Nova Scotia, inhabited by the Engliſh, and bordered upon by the French, were never preciſely determin⯑ed; and, ſouthward, the boundaries of Acadia, an extended country belonging to the French, and bor⯑dering upon Virginia, were equally left uncertain. Negotiations had long been carried on to determine theſe differences; but what could reaſon do in deter⯑mining diſputes in which there were no certain prin⯑ciples to be guided by? The limits of theſe countries had never been ſettled; for they were, before this time, thought too remote, or too inſignificant, to employ much attention. And it was not probable that powers who had no other right to the countries in diſpute, but that of invaſion, would have equity enough to agree upon ſharing the ſpoil.

The right which any of the contending powers pretended to, might, in the eye of reaſon, be thought very controvertible; but the convenience which either party was to derive from the enjoyment of their pecu⯑liar claims was not ſo uncertain. As the diſſenſions ſeemed to begin in North America, we muſt turn to that country to conſider their riſe. The French had been the firſt cultivators of Nova Scotia, and, by great induſtry and long perſeverance, rendered the ſoil, na⯑turally barren, ſomewhat fertile, and capable of ſu⯑ſtaining nature with very little aſſiſtance from Europe. This country, however, had frequently changed ma⯑ſters, until the Engliſh were acknowledged as the rightful poſſeſſors by the treaty of Utrecht. The poſſeſſion of this country, in any other nation, would expoſe our colonies to perpetual invaſion, and aſſiſt them in acquiring a ſuperiority in commerce, and the northern fiſheries. It has been already ob⯑ſerved, that we had an infant colony upon that coaſt, which was chiefly ſupported by royal bounty, and ſtruggled with all the diſadvantages of the ſevere cli⯑mate, [200] and the ungrateful ſoil. But it had an ob⯑ſtruction to its growth ſtill more formidable than ei⯑ther. The French, who had been long ſettled in the back parts of the country, continually ſpirited up the Indians to repel the new comers; ſo that ſome of them were actually murdered, or ſold to the French at Louiſburg. Theſe violations were complained of, and complaint produced recrimination; ſo that the two powers of France and England were negotiating with, accuſing, and deſtroying each other all at one time.

Now alſo began to be obſerved another ſource of diſpute, which promiſed as much uneaſineſs as the former. The French, pretending firſt to have diſ⯑covered the mouth of the river Miſſiſſippi, claimed the whole adjacent country towards New Mexico on the eaſt, quite to the Apalachian Mountains on the weſt. And finding ſeveral Engliſhmen, who had ſettled be⯑yond theſe mountains, both from motives of com⯑merce, and invited by the natural beauties of the country, they drove them away, and built ſuch forts as could command the whole country around. It was now, therefore, ſeen, that their intentions were 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 being already poſſeſſed of the northern and ſouthern ſhores, thus incloſe to us on every ſide, and ſecure to themſelves all trade with the natives of the country. The Engliſh therefore juſtly apprehended, that if the French were able to unite their northern colonies, which were traded into by the river St. Lawrence, to their ſouthern, which were acceſſible by the river Miſſiſſippi, they muſt, in time, become maſ⯑ters of the whole territory; and, by having a wide country to increaſe in, would ſoon multiply, and be⯑come every year more dangerous.

[201] The government of England having long com⯑plained of theſe incroachments, determined, at length, to repel force by force, and to cut the knot of nego⯑tiation, which they could not untie. Orders were diſpatched to the governors of the provinces to unite into a confederacy for their mutual ſecurity; and, if poſſible, to bring the Indians over to their cauſe. The Indians were a fierce ſavage people, unacquaint⯑ed with the arts, but from infancy trained to the practice of war. It had long been the method of the Engliſh to cultivate their friendſhip in times of danger, but to ſlight their alliance in circumſtances of tranquility; this, in ſome meaſure, ſerved to alie⯑nate their affections from our government; but the fraud and avarice of our merchants, particularly that called the Ohio company, who ſold them bad merchan⯑dizes, and treated them with equal inſolence and perfidy, ſerved to confirm their averſion. Beſides, there was ſomething in the diſpoſition of the French ſettlers in theſe regions more ſimilar to theirs; the French, like the natives, were hardy, enterpriſing, and poor; they naturally therefore joined with thoſe al⯑lies, from conquering of whom they could expect no plunder; and declared againſt the Engliſh coloniſts, who were rich, frugal, and laborious, and whoſe ſpoils they conſequently were the more deſirous to ſhare.

Thus then the Engliſh had not only the French, but almoſt the whole body of the Indian nations to oppoſe; yet this confederacy againſt them did not give a greater union to the different provinces, whoſe in⯑tereſt it was to oppoſe. Some of the provinces, who, from their ſituation, had little to fear from the enemy, or little advantages to expect from victory, declined furniſhing their ſhare of the ſupplies, the governors of ſome other colonies, who had been men of broken fortunes, and had come from their native country to retrieve them by acts of rapacity and oppreſſion [202] here, were ſo much dreaded, or hated, that they loſt all influence in inſpiring the coloniſts with a proper ſpirit of defence. The miniſtry, however, at home, began to exert itſelf for their defence, and their mea⯑ſures were haſtened by hoſtilities already commenced, there having been, for ſome time, a ſkirmiſhing be⯑tween General Lawrence to the north, and Colonel Waſhington to the ſouth, with parties of the French, in which the latter were victorious. It would be tedious, as well as uninforming, to relate all the preparations that now began to be made by either party; or to load this account with barbarous names and unimportant marches; or to recount the alter⯑nate victories and defeats of either ſide; be it ſuffi⯑cient to obſerve, that they ſeemed, in ſome meaſure, to have imbibed the ferocity of manners of the ſa⯑vage people, with whom they fought, and exerciſed various cruelties, either from a ſpirit of repriſal or revenge.

Four operations were undertaken by the Engliſh at the ſame time; one commanded by Colonel Monck⯑ton, to drive the French from the incroachments they had made upon the province of Nova Scotia; ano⯑ther to the ſouth, againſt Crown Point, under the command of General Johnſon; a third commanded by General Shirley, againſt Niagara; and a fourth, ſtill farther to the ſouth, againſt Du Queſne, under the conduct of General Braddock. In theſe reſpec⯑tive expeditions Monckton was ſucceſsful; Johnſon victorious, though without effect; Shirley was thought dilatory, and his expedition deferred to another ſea⯑ſon! but the fortunes of Braddock are ſo extraordi⯑nary as to require a more ample detail. This Ge⯑neral was recommended to this ſervice by the Duke of Cumberland, who was juſtly ſenſible of his cou⯑rage, and knowledge in the art of war. Theſe two advantages, however, which, upon other occa⯑ſions, are thought the higheſt requiſites of a Ge⯑neral [203] were, in ſome meaſure, conducive to this com⯑mander's overthrow. His courage made him obſti⯑nate; and his ſkill in war was improper to be ex⯑erted in a country where there were no regular ad⯑vances to be made, nor a marſhalled enemy to en⯑counter. This brave but unfortunate man ſet for⯑ward upon the expedition in June, and left Fort Cumberland on the tenth, at the head of two thou⯑ſand two hundred men, directing his march to that part of the country where General Waſhington had been defeated the year before. Upon his arrival there he was informed, that the French at fort Du Queſne expected a reinforcement of five hundred men; he therefore reſolved, with all haſte, to advance, and attack them, before they became too powerful by this aſſiſtance. Leaving, therefore, Colonel Dun⯑bar, with eight hundred men, to bring up the provi⯑ſions, ſtores, and heavy baggage, as faſt as the nature of the ſervice would permit, he marched forward with the reſt of his army through a country equally dan⯑gerous from its foreſts and ſavage inhabitants; a country where Europeans had never before attempted to penetrate, wild, ſolitary, and hideous. Still, how⯑ever, he went forward with intrepidity, through the deſarts of Oſwego, regardleſs of the enemy's attempts, taking no care previouſly to explore the woods or thickets, as if the nearer he approached the enemy, the leſs regardleſs he was of danger. At length, on the eighth of July, he encamped within ten miles of the fort Du Queſne, which he intended to attack, and the next day reſumed his march, without ſo much as endeavouring to get intelligence of an enemy he de⯑ſpiſed. With this confidence he was marching forward; his ſoldiers promiſed themſelves a ſpeedy ceſſation from their harraſſing march, and all things ſeemed to promiſe ſucceſs, when the whole army was at once aſtoniſhed by a general diſcharge of arms, from an unſeen ene⯑my, [204] along the front and left flank. It was now too late to think of retreating; his whole body had paſſed into the defile, which the enemy had artfully permit⯑ted before they attempted to fire. His van guard therefore fell back, in conſternation, upon the main body; and the pannic ſoon became general. The officers alone diſdained to fly, while Braddock himſelf, at their head, diſcovered the greateſt intrepidity, and the higheſt imprudence; he never thought of retreat⯑ing, but obſtinately continued on the ſpot where he was, and gave orders to the few brave men who ſur⯑rounded him, to form according to the rules of war, and regularly advance againſt the enemy. An en⯑thuſiaſt to the diſcipline of the field, he deſired to bring the ſpirit of a German campaign into the wilds of Niagara. In the mean time, his officers fell thick about him, while he ſtill continued to iſſue out or⯑ders with compoſure, though he had five horſes ſhot under him, and though the whole body of his troops was fled. At length he received a muſket-ſhot through the lungs, he dropped, and a total confuſion enſued. All the artillery, ammunition, and baggage, of the army, were left to the enemy; the General's cabinet of letters alſo ſhared the ſame fate; and the loſs of the Engliſh, in this unhappy ſurprize, amount⯑ed to ſeven hundred men; and the remainder of the army, ſome time after, returned to Philadelphia. It was in this manner the expedition of General Brad⯑dock terminated; from which England had expected ſuch advantages. In all actions, that excite the ap⯑plauſe and admiration of mankind, a part of their ſuc⯑ceſs is owing to conduct, and a part to fortune. Of the latter Braddock was totally forſaken; he was unſucceſsful; and the ungrateful world are unwilling to grant him the former.

Thus unfortunate were the beginnings of this war, with regard to England; it was reſolved therefore, that no meaſures were now to be preſerved with the [205] French; and orders were given to take their ſhips wherever found, though there was yet no formal de⯑claration of war. With this order the naval com⯑manders very readily and willingly complied, ſo that ſoon the Engliſh ports were filled with ſhips taken from the enemy, and kept as an indemnification for theſe forts which the enemy had unjuſtly poſſeſſed themſelves of in America. The French complained loudly againſt the injuſtice of this proceeding; they repreſented it to the reſt of Europe, as a breach of that faith which ſhould be obſerved among nations, as a piratical meaſure, diſgraceful to the moſt ſavage nation. Their memorials were anſwered by the Engliſh, with ſome ſhew of reaſon. However, it muſt be owned, that as a declaration of war was a ceremony eaſily performed, it would have been more conſiſtent with the honour of the miniſtry, to have purſued the uſual methods of conteſt which had been long eſtabliſhed in Europe. The truth is, that the miniſtry were now divided between peace and war; they ſaw the neceſſity of vigorous meaſures, but they were afraid to throw off the maſk of peace intirely. Henry Pelham, who had long guided at the helm of affairs with candour and capacity, had for ſome time been dead, and his place ſupplied by Sir Thomas Robinſon, who, though a ſenſible miniſter, and a favourite of the King, was of no great weight in council, and, conſequently, ſoon under a neceſſity of reſigning; and Mr. Fox was put in his place. The adminiſtration was alſo new formed, in other reſpects, by the taking in ſeveral other new mem⯑bers. Thoſe who had long been in the miniſtry, were, it is thought, for peace; thoſe, on the contrary, who were newly taken into the direction of affairs, ex⯑pected to ſupplant their rivals by an oppoſite ſyſtem, and were conſequently for war. The leader of this party, therefore, warmly ſolicited for war, ſeconded by the juſtice of the cauſe, and the general voice of [206] the people, thoſe who oppoſed him expected to effect by negotiation whatever arms could atchieve. Whatever might have been the motives for protract⯑ing the declaration, the French ſeemed to convince Europe of their moderation upon this attack by ſea, by neither declaring war, nor making any repriſals by ſea. However, they threatened England with a formidable invaſion; ſeveral bodies of troops moved to the coaſts adjacent to ours; their miniſters threat⯑ened loudly in foreign courts; and ſuch preparations were made as ſhewed a reſolution of carrying the war into the heart of Great Britain. Theſe prepa⯑rations had the deſired effect, filling the nation with conſternation, turbulence, and clamour. The people ſaw themſelves expoſed without arms, leaders, or diſ⯑cipline, while the miniſtry were timid, unpopular, and wavering. In this ſituation the Dutch were applied to for ſix thouſand men, which, by treaty, they were to ſend England, in caſe of its being threatened with an invaſion. Which demand, how⯑ever, by affected delays, was put off ſo long, that the King, unwilling to come to an open rupture with the republic, deſiſted from it; for which they return⯑ed his Majeſty thanks. Such are the advantages England is to expect, by relying on aſſiſtance from any other quarter than its native ſtrength and una⯑nimity; and every day ſeems to convince us of the abſurdity of political alliances, which are never ob⯑ſerved, as wanting friendſhip to bind, or force to compel.

In this timid ſituation the miniſtry were eager to catch at any aſſiſtance; a body therefore of Heſſians and Hanoverians, amounting to about ten thouſand, were brought over to protect about as many millions of Engliſhmen, who, with ſwords in their hands, were able to defend themſelves; but ſuch was the vile complexion of this period, that the whole king⯑dom preſented nothing but one picture of diſcontent, [207] terror, and diſtruſt of their leaders. The miniſtry was execrated for having reduced the nation to ſuch circumſtances of diſgrace, as to be thought to ſtand in need of preſervation from a few German merce⯑naries; but what could be expected from ſuch a mi⯑niſtry, who were poſſeſſed neither of the arts, nor the integrity of government.

However, the French were by no means ſerious in this intended deſcent; the only deſign was to draw off the attention of the Engliſh miniſtry from an ex⯑pedition which was actually going forward againſt Minorca, an iſland in the Mediterranean, which we had formerly taken from Spain, and had been ſecured to us by repeated treaties. But the miniſtry of Eng⯑land were too much infected with the more domeſtic terror, to take ſufficient precautions to guard this place, though they had early notice of the enemies intentions. Inſtead therefore of ſufficiently guard⯑ing the iſland with a proper garriſon in St. Philip's caſtle, the citadel, or of detaching a ſquadron that, in all reſpects, ſhould be ſuperior to the French fleet in the Mediterranean, they only ſent ten men of war upon this ſervice, poorly manned, and indifferently provided, under the command of Admiral Byng, whoſe character in the navy was by no means eſtabliſhed, and orders to reinforce the garriſon of St. Philip's with one battalion from Gibraltar; with which command, however, the governor of that place thought it un⯑ſafe to comply.

The Admiral ſent upon this ſervice reinforced his fleet by a detachment of men at Gibraltar; and, ſail⯑ing towards Minorca, was joined in the way by ano⯑ther man of war, from whom he learned that Minorca was actually beſieged, and the French fleet deſtined to ſupport the operations by land. He ſoon knew the reality of this information, when, approaching the iſland, he ſaw the French banners diſplayed, and the batteries opened upon the caſtle of St. Philip's, [208] which ſtill diſplayed the Engliſh flag. The appear⯑ance of the French fleet, ſoon after, ſtill more ſtrong⯑ly engaged his attention; he drew up his ſhips in line of battle, and determined to act upon the de⯑fenſive. Byng had been formerly thought to be emi⯑nent in naval operations, to which he was early bred, but he had hitherto exhibited no proofs of courage. Men are generally moſt apt to pride themſelves upon thoſe talents for which they are moſt praiſed; and this was the caſe with this unfortunate commander; he ſacrificed his reputation for courage, to the hopes of being applauded for his conduct. The French fleet advanced; a part of the Engliſh fleet engaged; the Admiral ſtill kept aloof, giving prudent reaſons for his remiſſneſs in coming to action; till, at length, the French Admiral, taking the advantage of the Engliſhman's heſitation, ſailed ſlowly away to join the van of his fleet, which had been already diſcomfited. The Engliſh, for a while, continued the purſuit; but the opportunity of coming to a cloſe engage⯑ment was now loſt, and never preſented itſelf again.

Byng was ſtill reſolved to act with his uſual cau⯑tion; he called a council of war, wherein it was re⯑preſented that he was much inferior to the enemy in ſhips and men; that the relief of Minorca was im⯑practicable; and that it was moſt adviſeable to ſail back to Gibraltar, which might require immediate protection. This repreſentation was almoſt unani⯑mouſly agreed to, and put accordingly in execution. His puſillanimous conduct, however, ſoon reached his native country, where it excited almoſt a phrenzy of reſentment. The miniſtry were alſo thought to fan the flame, which ſerved to turn the public eye from their own miſconduct in ſending ſo weak an armament. Byng, in the mean time, remained at Gibraltar, no way ſuſpecting the ſtorm that was ga⯑thering over his head; but talked, and wrote, even as if he expected the thanks of his King, and the [209] applauſe of his countrymen; but he was ſoon awaked from this dream of infatuation, by a letter from the miniſtry, giving him notice, that he was recalled; and another ſoon after, by which directions were given that he ſhould be ſent home under arreſt; and, upon his arrival in England, he was committed cloſe priſoner in Greenwich hoſpital. Numberleſs arts were uſed to inflame the populace againſt this unhappy man; and, long before his tryal, ſeveral addreſſes were ſent up, from different counties, crying out for juſtice againſt the delinquent. The induſtry of his friends, however, was not remiſs upon this occaſion; they expoſtulated with the multitude, and attempted to divert the whole of univerſal hatred upon the mi⯑niſtry, who, at worſt, only deſerved a ſhare. But, ſoon after the news of the ſurrender of fort St. Phi⯑lip to the French inflamed the people beyond all mea⯑ſure. This fortreſs had been reckoned, next to Gi⯑braltar, the ſtrongeſt in Europe, the works having been planned by the celebrated Vauban; and, both from the nature of the ſoil, which was one ſolid rock, and the peculiarity of the ſituation, it was thought al⯑moſt impregnable. In order to make themſelves ma⯑ſters of this important fortreſs; the French, under the command of the Duke de Richelieu, had landed near twenty thouſand men, which, by continual aſſault, and having, at length, gained an outwork, made themſelves maſters of the place. The Engliſh gover⯑nor, General Blakeney, however, had very honour⯑able terms of capitulation, and marched out with all the enſigns of war. Yet, perhaps, in truth, the harder the conditions a garriſon is obliged to accept, the more honourable to the commander, as they de⯑note his extremity in being reduced to accept of them.

The Engliſh now ſaw themſelves every-where de⯑feated; in America their armies were cut in pieces; in Europe their garriſons taken, the people trembling [210] under the dread of an invaſion, a few mercenarie [...] brought in for their defence, who, in turn, becam [...] formidable to the natives; all theſe circumſtance [...] concurred to exaſperate the people; but there was n [...] object on whom to wreck their vengeance, but th [...] unhappy Byng, who, in a manner, was already de⯑voted to deſtruction. War was now proclaimed wit [...] the uſual ſolemnity, though it was now but a denun⯑ciation after having ſtruck the blow. The Hanove⯑rians were ſent back to their own country, and th [...] preparations were made for trying Admiral Byng i [...] the uſual form. On the twenty-eighth day of De⯑cember his tryal began before a Court-Martial, i [...] the harbour of Portſmouth, where, after a ſcrutiny of ſeveral days, his Judges came to a reſolution, tha [...] he had not done his utmoſt, during the engagement [...] to deſtroy the enemy, which it was his duty to hav [...] engaged. They therefore unanimouſly were of opi⯑nion, that he fell under the twelfth article of war [...] which poſitively ordered death to any perſon, who in the time of action ſhould withdraw, keep back [...] or not come into fight, or who ſhould not do his ut⯑moſt, through either motives of cowardice, negli⯑gence, or diſaffection. He was therefore adjudge [...] to be ſhot on board ſuch ſhip as the Lords of th [...] Admiralty ſhould pleaſe to direct; but his Judges, a [...] the ſame time, recommended him to mercy; as they could not tell the motives of his keeping aloof. By ſuch a ſentence they expected to have ſatisfied the national animoſity againſt him, and yet to ſcreen themſelves from the conſciouſneſs of ſeverity. What⯑ever the government might wiſh to do is uncertain; but the cry of vengeance was too loud to be diſre⯑garded! his Majeſty therefore referred the ſentence to the twelve Judges, who were unanimouſly of opi⯑nion that the ſentence was legal; wherefore the King reſolved that he ſhould ſuffer the extremity of the law. Still, however, there was another attempt made [211] to ſave him: One of thoſe who had been his Judges at Portſmouth, and was alſo a member of the houſe of commons, informed that aſſembly, that he, as well as ſome others who had ſat upon the Admiral's tryal, deſired to be releaſed from the oath of ſecrecy im⯑poſed upon Courts-Martial, that they might diſcloſe the grounds on which ſentence of death had paſſed upon Admiral Byng, and, perhaps, diſcover ſuch cir⯑cumſtances as might ſhew the ſentence to be impro⯑per. To this the houſe paid little regard; but his Majeſty thought fit to reſpite the execution, till the ſcruples of the Court-Martial ſhould be more clearly explained. A bill therefore paſt the houſe of com⯑mons for releaſing them from their oath; but when it came to be debated among the Lords, and after the members of the Court-Martial were examined touch⯑ing their reaſons, the Peers found no reaſon for paſſ⯑ing the bill; and it was rejected. The Admiral be⯑ing thus abandoned to the ſtroke of juſtice, reſolved at leaſt, by the bravery of his dying, in ſome mea⯑ſure, to ſhew the injuſtice of the imputation of his being a coward. He maintained to the laſt his na⯑tural ſerenity; and, on the day fixed for his execu⯑tion, when the boats belonging to the fleet, being manned and armed, attended this ſolemnity in the harbour, the Admiral advanced from the cabbin, where he had been impriſoned, to the deck, the place appointed for execution, with a compoſed ſtep, and reſolute countenance. He then delivered a paper, containing the following addreſs: ‘A few moments will now deliver me from virulent perſecution, and fru⯑ſtrate the malice of my enemies. Nor need I envy them a life ſubject to the ſenſations my injuries, and the injuſtice done me, muſt create. Perſuaded I am, that juſtice will be done to my reputation hereafter. The manner and cauſe of raiſing and keeping up the popular clamour and prejudice againſt me, will be ſeen through. I ſhall be conſidered as a victim deſtined to divert the indignation [212] and reſentment of an injured and deluded people from th [...] Proper objects. My enemies themſelves muſt now thin [...] me innocent. Happy for me, at this my laſt momen [...] that I know my own innocence, and am conſcious that n [...] part of my country's misfortunes can be owing to me. [...] heartily wiſh the ſhedding my blood may contribute to th [...] happineſs and ſervice of my country; but I cannot reſig [...] my juſt claim to a faithful diſcharge of my duty, accordin [...] to the beſt of my judgment, and the utmoſt exertion of n [...] ability for his Majeſty's honour, and my country's ſervic [...] I am ſorry that my endeavours were not attended wit [...] more ſucceſs; and that the armament under my comman [...] proved too weak to ſucceed in an expedition of ſuch mo⯑ment. Truth has prevailed over calumny and falſhoo [...] and juſtice has wiped off the ignominious ſtain of my per⯑ſonal want of courage, and the charge of diſaffection. M [...] heart acquits me of theſe crimes; but who can be preſump⯑tuouſly ſure of his own judgment? If my crime is a [...] error of judgment, or differing in opinion from my judges [...] and if yet the error of judgment ſhould be on their ſid [...] God forgive them, as I do; and may the diſtreſs of thei [...] minds, and uneaſineſs of their conſciences, which, in juſtic [...] to me, they have repreſented, be relieved, and ſubſide, [...] my reſentment has done. The ſupreme Judge ſees a [...] hearts and motives, and to him I muſt ſubmit the juſtic [...] of my cauſe.’ When he had delivered theſe words, h [...] came forward, and reſolved to die with his face un⯑covered; but, his friends repreſenting that his look [...] might poſſibly intimidate the ſoldiers, and preven [...] their taking proper aim, he had his eyes bound wit [...] an handkerchief, and, kneeling upon deck, the ſigna [...] was given for the ſoldiers to fire, and he dropped dow [...] dead in an inſtant.

How far this unfortunate man was innocent, o [...] culpable, we ſtand too near the tranſaction to judge [...] if he erred in point of judgment only, it might have deen a proper cauſe for his diſmiſſion; but it would have been cruelty to condemn him for it. Thoſe [213] who plead with the greateſt vehemence againſt him, ſeem, however, at preſent, to bring their arguments from the neceſſity there was of making ſome one commander an example to give greater reſolution to the reſt, and from the good effects that ſeemed to at⯑tend his execution, by our repeated ſucceſſes after it. Theſe, however, are ſuch reaſons as may ſilence, but not ſatisfy; we muſt be contented therefore, to reflect tacitly upon this tranſaction, and to let poſte⯑rity do the reſt.

LETTER XXVI.

EUROPE has often been compared to one re⯑public obeying one law, namely, that of na⯑tions; and compoſed of provinces, each of which is prevented from becoming too great by the univerſal jealouſy of the reſt. A quarrel therefore between any two of theſe is apt to involve the whole in war; but, particularly, if the diſpute happens to ariſe between thoſe who are reckoned the leading powers in this aſſemblage of nations. A war begun between France and England, for a deſart and trackleſs wild in the remote parts of Europe, ſeemed now ſpreading faſt through the whole world; and the appearance of their commotions revived all the ancient jealouſies and claims among the reſt.

The French, at the breaking out of this new war, though they were ſucceſsful at its commencement, were very ſenſible that they could not long 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 neceſ⯑ſaries for war. Being therefore apprized that a naval war muſt, in the end, turn out to their diſadvantage, [214] they made no ſcruple of declaring that they would revenge the injuries they ſuſtained in their colonies, or by ſea, upon the King of England's territories in Germany, which they ſecretly hoped would be a mo⯑tive to his complying with their demands, or divid⯑ing the Engliſh forces, or draining their finances with heavy ſubſidies, as they knew his affection for his native country. In theſe hopes they were not much diſappointed; the court of London immediately, to ſecure the Electorate of Hanover, entered into a treaty with the Empreſs of Ruſſia, by which a body of fifty-five thouſand men ſhould be ready to act in the Engliſh ſervice, in caſe Hanover ſhould be in⯑vaded, for which the Ruſſian Empreſs was to receive an hundred thouſand pounds annually, to be paid in advance.

His Pruſſian Majeſty had long conſidered himſelf as the guardian of the intereſts of Germany, and was ſtartled at the treaty. This was Frederic III, a Prince adorned with all the arts of peace, and whom you have ſeen alſo acting as the moſt conſummate General. He had learned to read men, by being himſelf bred in the ſchool of adverſity; and to love his ſubjects, by having experienced their attachment. He therefore took the firſt opportunity to declare, that he would not ſuffer any foreign forces to enter the Empire, either as auxiliaries or principals. This conſummate politician had, it ſeems, been already apprized of ſome ſecret negotiations between the Auſtrians, whom he looked upon as concealed ene⯑mies, and the Ruſſians, for entering his dominions, and ſtripping him of the province of Sileſia, which had been conceded to him in the laſt treaty of peace. His Britannic Majeſty, whoſe fears for Hanover guided his preſent councils, now ſaw himſelf in the very ſituation he moſt dreaded, expoſed to the re⯑ſentments of France and Pruſſia, who could at once invade and over-run his Electorate, while his Ruſſian [215] allies lay at too great a diſtance to aſſiſt him. How⯑ever, all he wiſhed was to keep the enemy out of Germany; and this the King of Pruſſia made a pro⯑feſſion of doing, as well as he. From the ſimilitude of their intentions, therefore, theſe two Monarchs were induced to unite their intereſts; and, as they both only deſired the ſame thing, they came to an agreement to aſſiſt each other mutually in keeping all foreign forces out of the Empire.

From this alliance both powers hoped great ad⯑vantages; the preſerving the peace of Germany was the apparent good, but each had other peculiar bene⯑fits in view. The King of Pruſſia knew the Au⯑ſtrians to be his enemies, and the Ruſſians to be in league with them againſt him; an alliance therefore with the court of London kept back the Ruſſians whom he dreaded, and gave him hopes of taking an ample ſatisfaction from Auſtria, whom he ſuſpected. As for France, he counted upon it as a natural ally, which, from the long and hereditary enmity with the Auſtrians, could not, by declaring againſt him, join them to whom they had ſuch various reaſons for political averſion. The Elector of Hanover, on the other hand, had ſtill ſtronger expectations of the benefits that would ariſe from this alliance. He thus procured a near and powerful ally; an ally which he thought the French, in their preſent circumſtances, would not venture to diſoblige; he counted upon the Auſtrians as naturally attached to his intereſts by former ſervices and friendſhip; and the Ruſſians, at leaſt, as likely to continue neuter, from their former ſtipulations and ſubſidy. Such were the motives to this alliance; but both were deceived in every par⯑ticular. And though this alliance aſtoniſhed Europe at that time, it ſoon produced another ſtill more ex⯑traordinary. The Auſtrian Queen had long medi⯑tated deſigns for recovering Sileſia, which, in her exigency, the King of Pruſſia had invaded, and ex⯑pected [216] the aſſiſtance of Ruſſia to effect her purpoſes. By this laſt treaty, however, ſhe ſaw England joining with Pruſſia in fruſtrating her hopes; and, deprived of one ally, ſought about, in order to ſubſtitute ano⯑ther in the room. She therefore applied to France; and, in order to procure the friendſhip of that power, gave up her barrier in the Netherlands, which England had been for ages acquiring with its blood and trea⯑ſure. By this extraordinary revolution the whole political ſyſtem of Europe aſſumed a new face, and it pretty clearly ſhews that events guide the politician, while the politician ſeldom guides events; or, to uſe words of Tacitus, there is but very little differ⯑ence between the art and its futility.

In the mean time, this treaty between France and Auſtria, was no ſooner ratified, than the Empreſs of Ruſſia was invited to accede to it; which propoſal ſhe ardently embraced. By concurring with their propoſals, Ruſſia had another opportunity of ſending her forces into the weſtern parts of Europe, which was all ſhe had hoped by the ſubſidiary treaty with England. A ſettlement in the weſtern parts of Eu⯑rope was what this fierce northern power long want⯑ed an opportunity of obtaining; for, poſſeſſed of that, ſhe could then pour in freſh forces at any time upon the more effeminate and contending ſtates; and, perhaps, at length, obtain univerſal Empire. The intrigues of France were alſo ſucceſsfully employed with Sweden. A war between that nation and Pruſſia was kindled up, though contrary to the incli⯑nation of their Sovereign, who had the natural mo⯑tives of kindred for being averſe to that meaſure.

Thus all the alliances which England had long been purchaſing upon the continent, and many of the treaties which ſhe had been long making, with all the buſtle of negotiation, ſeemed now deſtroyed. The forces of the contending powers therefore, now drawn out on each ſide, ſtood thus: England oppoſed [217] France in America and Aſia; France attacked Han⯑over on the continent of Europe. This country the King of Pruſſia undertook to protect, while England promiſed to furniſh him with troops and money to aſſiſt his operations. On the other hand, Auſtria had deſigns upon Pruſſia, and drew the Elector of Saxony into the ſame purſuits; ſhe was alſo ſeconded in her views by Ruſſia, Sweden, and France, while the reſt of the powers of Europe continued ſpectators of the contention.

Theſe deſigns of Auſtria, for the recovery of her loſt dominions, were too apparent not to be early diſcovered by ſo vigilant a Monarch as that of Pruſ⯑ſia; he ſaw that preparations were making againſt him by that power in Bohemia and Moravia, while the Elector of Saxony, under the pretence of a mi⯑litary parade, drew together about ſixteen thouſand men, which occupied the ſtrong fortreſs of Pirna. The ſecret treaty alſo between the courts of Ruſſia and Auſtria did not eſcape his penetration; by this it was privately ſtipulated, that the treating powers ſhould, in caſe of apprehending any breach of the preſent peace, unite againſt Pruſſia, and ſhare the dominions of that crown between them. This he conſidered as an offenſive alliance; the treating powers alledged, that it was only defenſive. As preparations for war, however, were carrying on with the utmoſt diligence on either ſide; the King of Pruſſia, in order to be confirmed in what he al⯑ready ſuſpected, ordered his miniſter at Vienna to demand a clear explication, and proper aſſurances concerning the preparations he ſaw making. He at firſt received an equivocal anwſer; but, ordering his miniſter to demand a categorical reply, whether the Empreſs Queen was for peace or war; and to re⯑quire a poſitive aſſurance, that ſhe had no intention to attack him that year, or the next; an ambiguous anſwer was returned to ſo plain a queſtion, which [218] undoubted manifeſted an inclination for war. H [...] therefore thought proper no longer to ſuſpend his opera⯑tions, but to carry the war into the enemies country [...] rather than to wait for it in his own. He entere [...] with a large army into Saxony, and, in the uſua [...] ſtrain of civility, demanded from the Elector a paſ⯑ſage through that country, which he well knew the poſſeſſor of it was not able to refuſe. In the mean time, he diſguiſed all his ſuſpicions of the Elector's having ſecretly treated with his enemies; and, upon the latter's propoſing to obſerve a ſtrict neutrality, the King of Pruſſia profeſſed himſelf extremely pleaſ⯑ed at the offer; but deſired, as a proof of the ſince⯑rity of his intentions, to ſeparate the army of the Electorate, for which there could poſſibly be no oc⯑caſion, in caſe of the neutrality propoſed. This, however, the Elector of Saxony thought it prudent to refuſe, which was probably what the other eagerly deſired; for, in conſequence of his refuſal, the King formed a kind of blockade about the Saxon camp, in order to reduce it by famine; for ſuch was the ſituation of this ſpot, on which the Saxons had en⯑camped, that though a ſmall army could defend it againſt the moſt numerous forces, yet the ſame diffi⯑culty attended leaving it, that ſerved to render it in⯑acceſſible to an enemy. Of this his Pruſſian Ma⯑jeſty took the advantage; and, by blocking up every place of egreſs, thus cut off their proviſions, and the whole body was obliged to ſurrender priſoners of war.

In a detail of the tranſactions of England it will not be neceſſary to recapitulate the numerous marches, victories, ſieges, and repulſes of this great foreign ally. Whatever either former hiſtory had ſhewn, or even romance might feign, was outdone both by his expedition and intrepidity. King only of a very ſmall territory, aſſiſted by England, whoſe ſituation was too remote to give any conſiderable ſuccours, [219] oppoſed and ſurrounded by all the moſt formidable powers of Europe, he ſtill oppoſed them on every ſide; he invades Bohemia, defeats the Au⯑ſtrian General at Lowoſchtch, retreats, begins his ſecond campaign with another victory near Prague, is upon the point of taking that city, but by a teme⯑rity inſpired by former ſucceſſes, attacking the Au⯑ſtrians at a diſadvantage near Kolin, he is defeated, and obliged to raiſe the ſiege: ‘Fortune, ſays he, has turned her back upon me this day. I ought to have ex⯑pected it; ſhe is a female, and I am no gallant; ſucceſs often occaſions a deſtructive confidence; but another time we will do better.’

One misfortune ſeemed to follow another; the Hanoverians, who had joined with him and England, in the alliance, had armed in his favour, command⯑ed by the Duke of Cumberland. As this army, which conſiſted of three thouſand eight hun⯑dred men, was greatly out-numbered by the French, they were obliged continually to retire before them. The paſſage of the river Weſer might have been diſputed with ſome hopes of ſucceſs; yet the Hano⯑verians permitted them to paſs it unmoleſted. Their army, therefore, was now driven from one part of the country to an other, till, at length, it made a ſtand near a village called Haſtenback, where it was judged they would be beſt able to ſuſtain the ſuperio⯑rity of the enemies numbers. However, notwith⯑ſtanding all the efforts of diſcipline, and the advan⯑tages of ſituation, the weaker ſide was ſtill obliged to retire; and, leaving the field of battle to the French, retreated towards Stade. By taking this route they marched into a country, from whence they could neither procure proviſions, nor yet had an opportunity of attacking the enemy upon equal terms. Unable, by their ſituation, to retire; or, by their ſtrength, to advance; they were compelled to ſign a capitulation, by which the whole army laid down [220] their arms, and were diſperſed into different quarters of cantonment. By this remarkable treaty, which went by the name of the treaty of Cloſter Seven, the Hanoverians were quite ſubdued, and all the French forces let looſe upon the King of Pruſſia.

The ſituation of this Monarch was now become deſperate; nor could human prudence foreſee how he could extricate himſelf from his diſtreſs. The French forces, now united, invaded his dominions on one ſide; the Ruſſians, who, for ſome time, had hovered over his dominions in another part, all at once haſtened onward to overwhelm him, marking their way with ſlaughter and cruelty; a large body of Auſtrians entered Sileſia, and penetrated as far as Breſlau, and turning to Schweidnitz, ſat down be⯑fore that important fortreſs, which, after a long ſiege, ſurrendered. Another army of the ſame nation en⯑tered Luſatia, made themſelves maſters of Zittau, and preſſing forward, laid the capital of Berlin under contribution. Twenty-two thouſand Swedes pierced into Pruſſian Pomerania, took the towns of Anclam and Demmein, and exacted tribute from the whole country. It was in vain that the King of Pruſſia faced about to every invader, though his enemies fled before him, while he purſued one body, another pe⯑netrated his territories in the mean time; and his do⯑minions, even in the midſt of victory, were every day contracting. The greateſt part were either taken or laid under contribution, and poſſeſſed by his ene⯑mies; and he was left without any alliance or aſſiſt⯑ance, but what the Britiſh parliament might think proper to afford.

Theſe ſuccours could, at beſt, have been, for ſome time, but ineffectual; however, it was reſolved by the Engliſh miniſtry, that ſomething ſhould be done, and accordingly an enterprize was planned againſt the French coaſt, which, by drawing off their atten⯑tion from their German enemies, might give the latter [221] kingdom time to reſpire, and call off a part of the French to the defence of their own. Beſide this in⯑tention, England alſo hoped to be able to give a blow to their marine, by deſtroying ſuch ſhips as were laid up, or building in the harbour of Rochfort, the city againſt which this expedition was deſtined. The Engliſh miniſtry had kept that object of their opera⯑tions a profound ſecret; and France was filled with alarms till, at length, it was found that the fleet ap⯑peared before Rochfort, where it ſpent ſome time in deliberating upon what manner to proceed. At laſt it was reſolved to ſecure the little iſland of Aix, an eaſy conqueſt, which, while performing, the militia of the country had time to aſſemble, and there was an appearance of two camps upon the ſhore. The commanders therefore, who, by the badneſs of the weather, were, at firſt, prevented from landing, now feared equal danger from the numbers of the enemy which were to oppoſe them. They took into conſi⯑deration the badneſs of the coaſt, the danger of landing, the time the city had to prepare for a vigorous defence, and their own unfitneſs for any other methods to reduce it but that of a ſudden attack. This conſideration induced them to deſiſt from further operations; and they unanimouſly re⯑ſolved to return home, without making any attempt. Nothing could equal the diſcontent of the Engliſh upon ſeeing this expedition, of which they had con⯑ceived ſuch expectations, return unſucceſsful. It pro⯑duced, as uſual, a conteſt between thoſe who plan⯑ned, and thoſe who were ſent to execute it. The military men repreſented it as uſeleſs and raſh; the miniſters exclaimed at the timidity and delays of thoſe from whoſe vigour ſucceſs was to be expected. A Court of Enquiry cenſured the commander; but a Court-Martial acquitted him. This, like almoſt all the former operations, ſerved to embitter party, and increaſe deſpondence. A great man was even heard [222] to ſay, upon a very ſolemn occaſion, that he believed the commanders of every military operation were re⯑ſolved upon doing nothing. The tumult of the people was now ſunk from turbulent clamour into ſullen diſcontent; they ſaw only gloomy proſpects on every ſide, their armies deſtroyed, their fleets unactive, their expeditions ridiculous, and the only ally they had left in Europe, that would fight their battles, upon the point of being overwhelmed by ſuperiority of numbers. Such were the beginnings of this war, from which the timid foreboded national ſervitude, and a total deſtruction of all maritime power, and even the moſt ſanguine only hoped for a peace that might reſtore them to former equality.

LETTER XXVII.

SUCH was the ill ſucceſs of the Engliſh arms, and of their allies, at the beginning of this war. Every day the preſs, teemed with productions which either reproached their cowardice, or foreboded their undoing. Yet ſtill the hopes of the parliament roſe with their diſappointments, and every reſource ſeem⯑ed to augment with their expences. Tho' the ſup⯑plies for this deſtructive and hitherto ſhameful war, were enormous, yet they were raiſed as ſoon as grant⯑ed. The officers of the army ſeemed rouſed into vi⯑gour by the national reproaches. Aſia, however, was the country in which ſucceſs firſt began to dawn upon the Britiſh intereſt, and where we firſt learned the art of again conquering the enemy. A war in Europe could not be proclaimed between the two great powers, without being felt in the remoteſt parts of the globe. This immenſe tract of country, which was the theatre of an Aſiatic war, comprehends the [223] whole peninſula of India Proper. On the coaſts of this great territory, the Engliſh, the French, and ſe⯑veral other powers of Europe, had built forts, with the original conſent of the Mogul, who claims the ſovereignty of the whole Empire. Whatever his right may be to this dominion, his power is ſcarce felt or acknowledged in many of the remoter pro⯑vinces; and even the Governors or Nabobs, who were originally of his appointment, have render⯑ed themſelves independent, and exert an abſolute dominion over their reſpective territories, with⯑out acknowledging his ſuperiority, either by tri⯑bute or homage. In the conteſts of theſe Prin⯑ces, therefore, inſtead of having recourſe to the Mogul for redreſs, they apply to the European powers, whom they can either purchaſe or perſuade to aſſiſt them. The war between England and France, in theſe remote parts, firſt began by each power's ſiding with two contending Nabobs, and thus, by degrees, becoming principals in the diſ⯑pute. The ſucceſs, on each ſide, for ſome time after the treaty of Aix la Chapelle, ſeemed doubtful, till, at length, the affairs of the Engliſh ſeemed to gain the aſcendancy by the courage and conduct of Mr. Clive, a gentleman who firſt entered into the ſervice of the company as a clerk, but ſoon ſhewed his ta⯑lents more adapted for war. By his vigilance and courage the province of Arcot was cleared of the enemy, the French General taken priſoner, and the Nabob, whom the Engliſh ſupported, reinſtated in the government of which he had been formerly de⯑prived. The French, diſcouraged by theſe misfor⯑tunes, and ſenſible of their own inferiority in this part of the world, ſent over a commiſſary with a view to reſtore peace; and a convention between the two companies was accordingly concluded, im⯑porting, that the territories taken on either ſide ſince the laſt peace ſhould be mutually reſtored; that the [224] Nabobs advanced by the influence of either party, ſhould be acknowledged by both; and that, for the future, neither ſhould interfere in the differences be⯑tween the Princes of the country. This ceſſation, however, was not of long duration; compacts made between trading companies can never be of long con⯑tinuance, when there is a proſpect of advantage to either ſide from their infraction. In a few months after both ſides renewed their operations, no longer as auxiliaries but as rivals in arms and commerce. What the motives to this infraction were are not ſuf⯑ficiently known; wherever there is trade there muſt be a degree of avarice; and that is a paſſion too often the parent of injuſtice and cruelty. Certain it is that the Viceroy of Bengal, from motives of per⯑ſonal reſentment, declared againſt the Engliſh; and, levying a numerous army, laid ſiege to Calcutta, one of their forts, which was in no ſituation to endure the attack even of barbarians. It was taken by aſ⯑ſault; and the garriſon, to the number of one hun⯑dred and forty-ſix perſons, were crowded into a nar⯑row priſon called the Black Hole, about eighteen feet ſquare, without any entrance for air, except by two iron windows to the weſt, which, by no means, af⯑forded a ſufficient quantity for the ſupporting life in ſuch numbers. In ſuch a burning climate it is ter⯑rible to conceive the ſituation of wretches thus im⯑mured and ſuffocating each other. Their firſt effort, upon finding the danger of their horrid confinement, was to break open the door; but this being impoſ⯑ſible, they endeavoured to excite the compaſſion or the avidity of the guard, by offering him a large ſum of money for his aſſiſtance, in removing them to ſepa⯑rate priſons, with which he was not able to comply, as the Viceroy was aſleep, and no perſon durſt diſ⯑turb him. They were now therefore left without all hopes of relief to periſh, and the whole priſon was filled with groans, ſhrieks, conteſt and confu⯑ſion. [225] This turbulence ſoon after ſunk into languor and deſpair; and towards morning all was horrid ſilence and deſolation. Of an hundred and forty-ſix who had entered alive, but twenty-three only ſur⯑vived, and of theſe ſeveral died by putrid fevers upon their being ſet free.

The reduction of this important fortreſs ſerved to interrupt the proſperous ſucceſſes of the Engliſh com⯑pany; but the fortune of Mr. Clive ſtill vanquiſhed every obſtacle; a fleet, under the command of Ad⯑miral Watſon, conſpired with his efforts, and helped him in his victories. Angria, a piratical Prince, who had long annoyed the company's ſettlements in the neighbourhood of Bombay, firſt felt the weight of our naval power. This Prince maintained a large number of gallies, with which he would attack the largeſt ſhips, when he found a proper opportunity; and, by this means, he exacted a tribute from every European power for a permiſſion to trade. To ſub⯑due ſuch a dangerous enemy to commerce, Admiral Watſon and Colonel Clive ſailed into his harbour of Geriah, though they ſuſtained a warm fire as they paſſed, and ſoon threw all his fleet and his fort into flames. The next day the fort ſurrendered at diſcre⯑tion, where the conquerors found a large quantity of warlike ſtores, and effects to the value of one hun⯑dred and thirty thouſand pounds.

From this conqueſt Mr. Clive went on to take revenge for the treatment of the Engliſh at Calcutta, and about the beginning of December arrived at Ba⯑laſore, in the kingdom of Bengal. There was but ſmall oppoſition made to the fleet, or the army, till they came before Calcutta, the ſcene of former cru⯑elty; but as ſoon as the Admiral, with two ſhips, arrived before the town, he received a furious fire from all the batteries. This, however, he returned with ſtill greater execution, and, in leſs than two hours, the place was abandoned. Thus, by the con⯑queſt [226] of this and the former fortreſs, the Engliſh be⯑came poſſeſſed of the two ſtrongeſt ſettlements on the banks of the Ganges. Soon after theſe ſucceſſes, Hughly, a city of great trade was reduced with as little difficulty, and all the Viceroy of Bengal's ſtore-houſes and granaries were deſtroyed. This barbarous Prince, incenſed at theſe loſſes, aſſembled an army of ten thouſand horſe, and fifteen thouſand foot, fully reſolved to expel the Engliſh out of his domi⯑nions. Upon the firſt intelligence of his march, Colonel Clive begged from the Admiral a reinforce⯑ment of men from the ſhips; and ſix hundred ſea⯑men were accordingly ſoon added to his little army. The numerous forces of the Viceroy of Bengal ap⯑peared, and Colonel Clive advanced in three columns to attack him. But, though the forces were ſo ſeem⯑ingly diſproportioned, with reſpect to number, the victory ſoon declared in favour of the Engliſh com⯑mander. In fact, what could the timid Aſiatic ſol⯑dier do againſt European troops, hardened by war, and inured to all the viciſſitudes of climate. All the cuſtoms, habits, opinions, of the Aſiatics tend to enfeeble the body, and effeminate the mind. When we conceive a body of men led up to the attack, dreſſed in long ſilk garments, with no other courage but that inſpired by opium; with no other fears from defeat but that of changing their mode of ſlavery; their chief commander mounted on an elephant, and conſequently a more conſpicuous object for aim; their artillery drawn by oxen, impatient and furious upon the ſlighteſt wound; every ſoldier utterly un⯑acquainted with that cool intrepidity which provides againſt danger, and only taught to fight by the ſame arts that raiſe their paſſions. If we conſider all theſe circumſtances, it will be no way ſurpriſing if one or two thouſand Europeans ſhould eaſily diſcomfit thirty thouſand Indians. And all the heroiſm of a Cyrus, or an Alexander, in gaining ſuch diſpropor⯑tioned [227] victories, will no longer be the ſubject of ad⯑miration.

A victory ſo eaſily acquired by a foreign enemy, ſoon rendered the Viceroy of Bengal contemptible to his ſubjects at home. His preſent cowardice render⯑ed him deſpicable; his former inſolence and cruelty odious. A conſpiracy was projected againſt him by Alikan, his prime miniſter, and the Engliſh having private intimations of the deſign, reſolved to ſeize the opportunity of ſeconding it with all their endeavours. Accordingly Colonel Clive marched forward, took the town of Cutwa in his march, and ſoon came up with the Viceroy's army; and, after a ſhort conteſt, put the whole to flight, with terrible ſlaughter. Ali⯑kan, who had firſt incited his maſter to this under⯑taking, had hitherto concealed his attachments, either through fear or perfidy; but, after this victory, he open⯑ly eſpouſed the cauſe of the Engliſh, and was therefore ſolemnly proclaimed Viceroy of Bengal, Bahar, and Oriza, in the room of the former Viceroy, who was as ſolemnly depoſed, and ſoon after put to death by his ſucceſſor. The new Viceroy was not inſenſible of the gratitude he owed the Engliſh, for their aſ⯑ſiſtance in his promotion. He granted liberally all their demands, ſatisfied them even to the moſt ex⯑tended wiſh of avarice, and took every method to demonſtrate his pride in their alliance.

Yet not the Indians alone, but the French alſo, ſubmitted to Colonel Clive's aſſiduity and courage, ſeconded by the endeavours of the Admirals Watſon and Pocock. Chadenagore, a French ſettlement higher up the river than Calcutta, of great ſtrength, and the moſt important of any poſſeſſed by that na⯑tion in the bay of Bengal, ſubmitted to the Engliſh arms. The goods and money found in the place were conſiderable; but the chief damage the French ſuſtained was, in the ruin of their head ſettlement on the Ganges, by which they had long divided the [228] commerce of this part of India. Thus, in one cam⯑paign, the Engliſh, in ſome meaſure, became poſſeſ⯑ſors of an immenſe tract of country, ſuperior in wealth, fertility, extent, and number of inhabitants, to many of Europe. Above two millions ſterling were paid to the company and ſufferers at Calcutta; the ſoldiers and ſeamen ſhared ſix hundred thouſand pounds, and the Engliſh forces became too formid⯑able for reſiſtance. Yet, perhaps, this remote power will, one day, either ſerve to drain from the mother-country all its uſeful hands, or our victories will ſerve to teach the native barbarians to avail themſelves of their numbers, and, by being frequently defeated, they will, at laſt, learn to conquer.

The ſucceſs of the Engliſh was not a little alarm⯑ing to the French miniſtry at home; and it is be⯑lieved that even the Dutch themſelves entertained ſome jealouſy of their growing greatneſs. A conſi⯑derable reinforcement was therefore ſent from France, under the command of General Lally, an Iriſhman, who was reckoned one of the braveſt, yet the moſt whimfical man in the French ſervice. He had been, from his earlieſt years, bred a ſoldier of fortune, and carried the military ſpirit of honour to its utmoſt li⯑mits. Under his guidance the French affairs ſeem⯑ed, for ſome time, to wear a better face; he took fort St. David's, plundered a town belonging to the King of Tanjour, in alliance with the Engliſh, and after laid ſiege to his capital. Failing in his deſign upon this city, he entered the province of Arcot, and prepared for laying ſiege to Madraſs, the chief ſettlement of our company, upon the coaſt of Coro⯑mandel. In the ſiege of this important fortreſs, a greater variety of difficulties preſented than he had expected. The artillery of the garriſon was well ma⯑naged, while, on the other ſide, the French acted with the utmoſt timidity; it was in vain that their commander exhorted them to proceed, though a [229] breach was made, and lay open for fifteen days, not one of them dared to venture out to the aſſault. Beſide this, they were ill ſupplied with proviſions; and the arrival of a reinforcement in the garriſon ſoon after, ſerved to baniſh all hopes of ſucceſs. After a briſk fire they raiſed the ſiege; and this miſcarriage ſo intirely depreſſed the ardour of the enemy, that they appeared quite diſpirited in almoſt every enſuing en⯑gagement. In this manner, therefore, their affairs went on declining, not leſs by land than by ſea. There were ſeveral engagements between the two fleets, in which the French, though ſuperior in number of ſhips and men, always declined a deciſive engagement.

But the French were not the only enemies the Engliſh had to fear in this part of the world; the jealouſy of the Dutch was excited by our repeated ſucceſs, and the late extenſion of our power. As this diſpute, however trifling it may ſeem, may, one day, be of greater conſequence than it appears at pre⯑ſent, I ſhall be more particular in my relation of it.

Under a pretence of reinforcing their garriſons in Bengal, the Dutch equipped an armament of ſeven ſhips, which was ordered to ſail up the Ganges, and render their fort at a place called Chincura ſo for⯑midable as to be able to bid defiance to the power of Britain, and thus ſecure to themſelves the trade for ſalt-petre, which this place afforded. This deſign, however, Colonel Clive thought incumbent on him, if poſſible, to defeat; and ſending the Dutch com⯑mander a letter, he informed him that he could not permit his landing, and marching forces to Chincura. To this meſſage the Dutchman replied, that he had no ſuch deſigns as were imputed to him; and he only beg⯑ged liberty to land his troops to refreſh them; a requeſt which was readily granted. He made theſe conceſſions, however, only till he knew that the ſhips which were to ſecond his operations, were come up the river, and [230] then, throwing off the maſk, he began his march to Chincura, and took ſeveral ſmall veſſels belonging to the Engliſh, to retaliate for the affront he pre⯑tended to have ſuſtained in being denied permiſſion to proceed. Whether, upon this occaſion the Cal⯑cutta Indiaman was ſent out to interrupt their pro⯑greſs, or was only purſuing its way homeward, is not clearly known; but certain it is, that the Dutch commander threatened to ſink it, if it preſumed to paſs him. The Engliſh captain ſeeing them point their guns, as if they really reſolved to put their threats in execution, returned to Calcutta, where two other India ſhips lay at anchor, and reported his adventure to Colonel Clive, who inſtantly or⯑dered the three Indiamen to prepare for battle. The Dutch fleet were not remiſs in advancing to meet them. After a few broadſides, however, the Dutch Commodore ſtruck, and the reſt of his fleet followed the example. The victory being thus obtained without any loſs to the Engliſh, Captain Wilſon, who com⯑manded in the expedition, took poſſeſſion of the prizes which had greatly ſuffered, and the crews were ſent priſoners to the Engliſh fort. In the mean time their land forces, which amounted to eleven hundred men, were totally defeated by Colonel Ford, ſent upon that duty by Clive. A conſiderable part were killed, and the reſt were made priſoners of war. During this conteſt, the Nabob preſerved a ſuſpicious neu⯑trality, ready, as it ſhould ſeem, to join with the conquerors. Fortune, however, no ſooner deter⯑mined in favour of the Engliſh, than he offered them his ſervices, and profeſſed himſelf ready to demoliſh the Dutch fortification of Chincura. This conteſt was repreſented in very different lights to the re⯑ſpective governments at home; the Dutch declaim⯑ed againſt the Engliſh, oppreſſing all who at⯑tempted to trade in the Indies; while the Engliſh, on the other hand, reminded the Dutch of their [231] former cruelties, and of their deſire of gain, even at the expence of every moral obligation. However, ſoon after a negotiation enſued; the Dutch wiſely gave way to a power they were unable to withſtand. A treaty was concluded, and peace was reſtored, ſeemingly to the ſatisfaction of both parties. Such is the preſent ſituation of this conteſt, which, proba⯑bly, contains the ſeeds of future diſſenſion. The Dutch will, upon all occaſions, think it allowable to increaſe their power in India to whatſoever pitch they think proper; and the Engliſh will ever find it their intereſt to repel them. It may thus happen, that the amity of the two powers in Europe will not be ſufficient to preſerve unanimity in ſo diſtant a part of the world. In this manner, while Great Britain puts an end to one war, ſhe often lays the foundation for another; for, extended Empire ever produces an increaſing neceſſity to defend it.

Our ſucceſs againſt the French on the coaſt of Coromandel was not leſs conſpicuous; our troops were headed by Colonel Coote, a native of Ireland, a man of prudence and bravery; he marched againſt General Lally, took the city of Wandewaſh in his way, reduced Carangoly, a fortreſs commanded by Colonel O Kenedy; and, at length, came up with the French General, who was equally deſirous of the engagement. It is remarkable enough, that the commanders, on either ſide, were countrymen; but this did not, in the leaſt, abate their attachment to the different crowns they ſerved. In the morning early the French advanced within three quarters of a mile of the Engliſh line, and the cannonading be⯑gan with great fury on both ſides; the engagement continued with much obſtinacy till about two in the afternoon, when the French gave way, and fled to⯑wards their camp; which, however, they as quick⯑ly abandoned, and left their cannon, and the field of battle, to the conquerors. Their loſing the city of [232] Arcot was the conſequence of this victory; and no⯑thing now remained to them of all their vaſt poſſeſ⯑ſions in India but Pondicherry, their ſtrongeſt, larg⯑eſt, and moſt beautiful ſettlement in that part of the world. This capital of the French Indian power, in the days of its proſperity, exceeded all other Eu⯑ropean ſettlements there, in trade, opulence, and ſplendor; and was ſtill the repoſitory for all the French wealth, which remained after repeated de⯑feats. As ſoon as the fortreſſes adjacent to this im⯑portant place were reduced, Colonel Coote ſat down before it, reſolved upon the blockade by land, while Admiral Stevens ſhut up their harbour by ſea. A regular ſiege was, at that time, impracticable; from the periodical rains which in that climate were ſoon expected to obſtruct ſuch operations. Theſe diſad⯑vantages were even ſufficient to repreſs any attempts whatſoever; but, notwithſtanding the inclemency of the climate, the Engliſh commander continued be⯑fore the place for full ſeven months. Neither rains nor ſtorms were, in the leaſt, able to abate their aſ⯑ſiduity; they continued the ſiege, and preſſed the garriſon in ſuch a manner that they were reduced to the moſt extreme diſtreſs. Lally, however, was re⯑ſolutely bent on ſuffering every calamity rather than yield this laſt ſtake of French power in India, though his ſoldiers were obliged to feed on dogs and cats, and even bought ſuch wretched proviſions extremely dear, (eight crowns having been given for the fleſh of a dog) yet ſtill he determined to hold out. In the midſt of this diſtreſs, fortune ſeemed to give an oppor⯑tunity of relief, had it been properly ſeconded. In the beginning of January one of thoſe terrible ſtorms which are common in thoſe climates, but of whoſe violence we can have but little idea in Europe, wreck⯑ed a large part of the Engliſh fleet that was block⯑ing up the harbour of Pondicherry. This was a blow [233] which once more elevated the hopes of the deſpairing garriſon. The General now flattered himſelf with the hope of being ſupplied with proviſions; and, once more, animated his ſoldiers, long ſunk with diſeaſe, famine, fatigue, and uninterrupted adverſity. He immediately wrote to one of the French reſidents at a Dutch ſettlement ſor inſtant aſſiſtance; his eager impatience appears in the letter he ſent. ‘The Engliſh ſquadron is no more, Sir. Of the twelve ſhips they had in our road, ſeven are loſt, crews and all; the other four diſ⯑maſted, and no more than one frigate hath eſcaped—loſe not an inſtant in ſending boats after boats loaded with rice.—The ſaving of Pondicherry hath been in your power once already; this opportunity neglected, the fault will be all yours. Offer great rewards.—In four days I expect ſeven⯑teen thouſand Morattoes.—In ſhort, riſque all, attempt all, force all, and ſend us ſome rice, ſhould it be but half a garſe at a time.’ This ſingular letter, however, was inter⯑cepted; and, in leſs than four days, he had the mor⯑tification to behold Admiral Stevens again appearing in the harbour, who had repaired his loſſes with all poſſible celerity; and the blockade now became as complete as ever. Still, however, he made no pro⯑poſal to ſurrender; the ſiege was carried on by his countryman with redoubled alacrity; and, at length, he found his troops half conſumed with fatigue and famine, a breach made in the rampart, and not more than one day's proviſion of any kind remain⯑ing. He was now reduced to an extremity that would admit of no heſitation; a ſignal was therefore made to ceaſe hoſtilities; the principal of the Jeſuits, together with two civilians, came out, and offered terms of capitulation. Lally, however, could not be prevailed upon to offer any terms; he ſent a pa⯑per, filled with reproaches, againſt the Engliſh, to Colonel Coote; and alledged, that he would not treat with an enemy upon the honourable terms of war, who had already forfeited his honour in ſeve⯑ral [234] inſtances. He therefore ſuffered the Engliſh troops to take poſſeſſion of the place, but refuſed to ſurrender it in the uſual forms. This conqueſt ter⯑minated the power of France in India; the whole trade of that vaſt peninſula, from the Indus to the Ganges, became our own. The Princes of the coun⯑try knew the Engliſh force, and learned to fear it. Since that time nothing conſiderable has been done againſt us. Our Eaſt-India company have become the arbiters of Empire. The Mogul himſelf has been defeated, and taken priſoner. The Britiſh Em⯑pire begins to vie even with that of ancient Rome; the extent of its dominions on land is as wide, and its force at ſea is infinitely greater. Happy if we know when to bound our ſucceſſes; happy if we can diſtinguiſh between victories and advantages; if we can be convinced that when a nation ſhines brighteſt with conqueſt, it may then, like a waſting taper, be only haſtening to decay.

LETTER XXVIII.

VICTORY, which thus firſt dawned upon us, from the Eaſt, ſeemed to extend even to Eu⯑rope and America. But ſome ſteps led to theſe ſuc⯑ceſſes which had been long wiſhed for; and, at length, were effected. The affairs of war were di⯑rected by a miniſtry which ſeemed utterly unequal to the weight and importance of ſuch a charge; they were but feebly held together among each other, and clamoured againſt by the united voice of the people. It had long been their method to rule by party; and, ſurrounding the throne, it was ſaid, they attempted only to fill the royal ear with whatever ſuggeſtions they thought moſt to their intereſts. When any [235] new meaſure was propoſed, which could not receive their approbation; or any new member was introduced into government, whom they did not nominate, it was their method to throw up their places with a ſe⯑cret view of reſuming them with greater luſtre. Thus all hope of preferment was to be expected only from them; public favours were conferred only for private ſervices; they were thought to govern in the ſenate and in the field; the ſtrength of the crown was actu⯑ally declining; that of the people was ſcarce any, while ariſtocracy filled up every avenue to the throne with pride, ignorance, and faction.

The ſtate of the King and nation, at that time, was truly deplorable; the defeat of Braddock in Ame⯑rica; the loſs of Oſwego; the delay of armaments; the abſurd deſtination of fleets and armies, all ſerved to reduce the people almoſt to a ſtate of deſperation, and brought addreſſes to the throne from every part of the kingdom. The general voice was, at length, too loud not to reach the throne; and the miniſtry were, at length, obliged to admit ſome gentlemen into a ſhare of the government, whoſe talents and integrity might, in ſome meaſure, counterbalance their own deficience. At the head of theſe newly introduced were Mr. Pitt and Mr. Legge; the for⯑mer of theſe was appointed Secretary of State, the other Chancellor of the Exchequer. To draw the characters of men ſtill living, would neceſſarily ſub⯑ject me to the imputation of adulation or ſatyr; it is enough to ſay, that the people had high expectations from their abilities; and, in the end, they were not diſappointed.

The pleaſure of the nation, however, was but of ſhort continuance; a miniſtry compoſed of ſuch jar⯑ring principles could not long continue united, being conſtituted of perſons eſpouſing different meaſures, and actuated by different motives. The old juncto courted the Sovereign's favour by their pretended at⯑tachment [236] to his foreign dominions; the new cla⯑moured againſt all continental connexions as ut⯑terly incompatible with the intereſt of the nation. Both, perhaps, might have been wrong; but it is obvious, that theſe ſentiments were ſufficient to ſink the latter in the royal eſteem; and this diſlike was artfully kept up, and increaſed by their old rivals in power. A few months, therefore, after Mr. Pitt had been put into office, he was obliged to reſign the ſeals, by his Majeſty's command; and Mr. Legge was diſmiſſed from being Chancellor of the Exche⯑quer. The old miniſtry now thought themſelves ſecure in the unmoleſted poſſeſſion of former power; but this very ſtep which they took for their own ſe⯑curity turned out to them as unfortunate as thoſe they planned for the public were unſucceſsful. The whole nation ſeemed to riſe up as one man in vindi⯑cation of that part of the miniſtry that was lately excluded. And the King, at length, thought pro⯑per to comply with the general ſolicitation. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Legge were again reſtored, and a train of ſucceſſes ſoon began to dignify their deſigns.

For ſome time, however, the meaſures planned by the former miniſtry were purſued in America; and though the Engliſh were ſuperior to the enemy, yet ſtill they felt all the inconvenience of irreſolute coun⯑cils and ill-planned operations. Our women and children in that part of the world were expoſed to the unparalleled cruelty of the Indian ſavages; and, what is ſtill more remarkable, two thouſand Britons with arms in their hands, continued tame ſpectators of theſe inhumanities. Bad ſucceſs ever produces complaint on all ſides; and England now heard no⯑thing but invective and accuſation. The Generals ſent over to manage the operations of war, loudly accuſed the timidity and the ſlowneſs of the natives, who were to unite in their own defence; the natives, on the contrary, as warmly expoſtulated againſt the [237] pride, avarice, or incapacity of thoſe ſent over to command them. General Shirley, who was appoint⯑ed to that command, had been ſuperſeded by Lord London; and this nobleman ſoon after returning to England, three ſeveral commanders were put at the head of ſeparate operations; the moſt important be⯑ing that deſigned againſt Cape Breton, was com⯑manded by General Amherſt. The taking poſſeſſion of this iſland, and its fortreſs, was a conqueſt great⯑ly wiſhed by all our colonies, as it had always been a convenient harbour to the enemy, which, from thence annoyed our trade with impunity. It was alſo a convenient ſituation for carrying on their fiſhery; a branch of commerce of the utmoſt bene⯑fit to the French nation. The fortreſs of Louiſburg was ſtrengthened with all the aſſiſtance of art; the garriſon was numerous; the commander vigilant; and every precaution taken to prevent a deſcent. An account of the operations of a ſiege is tedious; be it ſufficient to ſay, that the Engliſh ſurmounted every obſtacle with the moſt amazing intrepidity; their former timidity ſeemed now converted into perſever⯑ing reſolution; the place was ſurrendered by capitu⯑lation; and our troops, long uſed to diſappointment and repulſe began to boaſt of victory in their turn.

Two other operations were carried on in America at the ſame time, the one under General Abercrom⯑bie, againſt Crown Point and Ticonderago; the other, more to the ſouthward, againſt fort Du Queſne; the latter expedition was ſucceſsful; but that againſt Crown Point and Ticonderago was at⯑tended with its uſual bad fortune. This was now the ſecond time that the Engliſh army had attempted to penetrate into thoſe hideous wilds by which na⯑ture had ſecured the French encroachments in that remote part of America; Braddock was fallen in the attempt; his raſhneſs contributed to his defeat; and too much caution, perhaps, was the fault of his ſuc⯑ceſſor. [238] Much time was ſpent in marching to the place of action; and the enemy were thus perfectly prepared to give the Engliſh troops a warm reception. They were found intrenched under the fort of Ti⯑conderago, behind a breaſt-work raiſed eight feet high, and ſtill farther ſecured by felled trees, with their branches pointing outwards. Theſe difficul⯑ties, however, the Engliſh attempted to ſurmount; but as the enemy, being ſecure themſelves, took aim at leiſure; a terrible carnage of the aſſailants enſued, and the General, after repeated efforts, was obliged to order a retreat. The Engliſh army, however, was ſtill ſuperior to that of the enemy, and might, it was ſuppoſed, have gone onward with ſucceſs, if ſupport⯑ed by their artillery, which had not yet arrived; but the General felt, too ſenſibly, the terrors of the late defeat, to remain in the vicinity of a victorious ene⯑my; he therefore reimbarked his troops, and returned to his camp at Lake George, from whence he had taken his departure.

The ſucceſs of this campaign, however, was, upon the whole, greatly in favour of the Engliſh. The taking of fort Du Queſne ſerved to remove from our colonies the terror of the incurſions of barbarians, and interrupted that continued correſpondence, which by a chain of forts, one part of the French ſettle⯑ments had with the other. The miniſtry too diſco⯑vered a ſpirit of vigorous reſolution hitherto unknown, in this part of the world; and the next campaign promiſed more brilliant ſucceſſes.

Accordingly, in the opening of the next ſeſſion, 1759, the miniſtry ſeemed ſenſible that a ſingle ef⯑fort carried in ſuch wide extended dominions, would never bring the enemy into ſubjection; it was there⯑fore reſolved to attack them in ſeveral different parts of this extenſive Empire at once. It was therefore pro⯑poſed to attack the French in all their places of ſtrength at the ſame time Preparations were therefore made, [239] and expeditions went forward againſt three different parts of the northern continent of America. Gene⯑ral Amherſt, commander in chief, with a body of twelve thouſand men, was to attack Crown Point that had hitherto been the reproach of the Engliſh army. General Wolfe was, at the oppoſite quarter, to enter the river St. Lawrence, and undertake the ſiege of Quebec, the capital of the French dominions in this part of the world, while General Prideaux and Sir William Johnſon were to attempt a fort near the cataract of Niagara. This laſt expedition was the firſt ſucceſsful. 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 ſoon commenced by the Engliſh, but General Prideaux was killed in the trenches by the burſting of a cohorn; ſo that the whole ſucceſs of the expedition fell to General John⯑ſon, and his good fortune. He omitted nothing to promote the vigorous meaſures of his predeceſſor, but added all his own popularity. The French knew the importance of this fort, and attempted to relieve it. Johnſon attacked them with his uſual intrepidity and ſucceſs; in leſs than an hour their whole army was put to the route, and the garriſon, beholding the de⯑feat of their countrymen, ſurrendered priſoners of war. Nor was General Amherſt leſs ſucceſsful, though, without meeting an enemy, upon his march to Crown Point, he found both that fort and Ticon⯑derago deſerted and deſtroyed. There now, there⯑fore, remained but one grand and deciſive blow to put all North America in poſſeſſion of the Engliſh. This was the taking of Quebec, a city handſomely built, populous, and flouriſhing. Admiral Saunders commanded the naval part of the expedition; that by land was committed to the conduct of General Wolfe. This young ſoldier, who was not yet thirty-five, had diſtinguiſhed himſelf on many former occaſions, par⯑ticularly [240] in the ſiege of Louiſburg, a part of the ſuc⯑ceſs of which was juſtly aſcribed to him, who, unin debted to family or connexions had raiſed himſelf by merit to his preſent command. The war in this part of the world had hitherto been carried on with ex⯑treme barbarity; and each ſide ſeemed to have adopt⯑ed the ſavage manners of the Indians, whoſe country they diſputed. Wolfe, however, diſdained theſe baſe proceedings, and carried on all the terrors of war with the humanity of a truly civilized European. A deſcription of the ſiege of this city may inſtruct a ſoldier, but can ſcarcely inform a citizen; be it ſuf⯑ficient to obſerve, that its beginning appeared ex⯑tremely unpromiſing to the beſiegers; and repeated repulſes even ſerved to abate the hopes of the com⯑mander. ‘I know, ſaid he, that the affairs of Great Britain require the moſt vigorous meaſures; but then the courage of an handful of brave men ſhould be exerted only where there is ſome hope of a favourable event. At pre⯑ſent the difficulties are ſo various that I am at a loſs how to determine.’ However, he reſolved, though now ſinking under fatigue and ſickneſs, to make one vi⯑gorous attempt before he gave up all; and accord⯑ingly, in the night, part of his troops, with great difficulty made themſelves maſters of an hill that commanded the town. A battle enſued; Montcalm, the French commander, reſolved not to ſurvive the defeat of his country. Wolfe, on the other ſide, re⯑ſolved to conquer or die. Both commanders had their wiſh; both fell; but the Engliſh were victorious. The circumſtances attending the death of Wolfe ſerved to give an example like that of the noble The⯑ban. He, in the beginning of the engagement, re⯑ceived a wound in the hand, which he diſſembled, wrapping it round with his handkerchief, to ſtop the effuſion of blood; he advanced with uncon⯑cern: a ſecond ball, was more fatal; it pierced his breaſt, ſo that, unable to proceed, he leaned on the [241] ſhoulder of a ſoldier who was near him. Now, ſtruggling in the agonies of death, and juſt depart⯑ing, he heard a voice cry, ‘they run;’ he ſeemed to revive a moment at the ſound, 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 ſuch a man was greater to the nation than the conquering of all Ca⯑nada was advantageous; but it is the misfortune of humanity, that we can never know true greatneſs till that moment when we are going to loſe it.

The ſurrender of the city was the conſequence of this victory, and, with it, the total ceſſion of all Canada. The French, it is true, made, in the en⯑ſuing ſeaſon, a vigorous effort to retake it; but, by the good conduct of our Governour, the town held out till relieved by an Engliſh fleet, under the com⯑mand of Lord Colville. Thus did this campaign make ample reparation for all the loſſes that had been hitherto ſuſtained by the Engliſh. The French had now no force capable of making any reſiſtance; they held out the war now, not with hopes of victory, but honourable capitulation; one place after another was invaded; Montreal, at laſt, ſurrendered; and, in a ſhort time, a country, which their own writers have repreſented as being more extenſive than the Roman Empire, fell totally under the power of his Britannic Majeſty.

How far the extending dominion tends to the in⯑creaſing the ſtrength of a nation, is an object worthy conſideration. The ſplendour of victory ſhould never dazzle the eye of reaſon. No people ever could call their country powerful, if it were not populous. For political force depends upon the ſmall frontier to be defended; and the vicinity of an army to every place to be invaded; but extended Empire takes away both theſe advantages, and, before the ſoldier [242] can traverſe half his proper territories, his country may have already felt all the horrors of invaſion. Whatever joy therefore our country might have felt at theſe immenſe acquiſitions, of remote territory, I own it gives me no very pleaſing proſpect. The manufactures, the trade, and the riches of theſe di⯑ſtant countries, can never recompence for the conti⯑nual drain of uſeful and induſtrious ſubjects, that muſt be derived from the mother country to people them. Wherever the lower ſort of people in any kingdom can fly from labour, they will be ready to go; yet, upon the induſtry, and the valour of theſe alone, every kingdom muſt hope for ſecurity. Not the effeminate, and the luxurious, can defend their country in the day of battle; they may increaſe ti⯑midity by their example, but opulence can never give true relief. The Spaniards and the Portugueſe were much more powerful before they divided their ſtrength into all the torrid climates of Southern America. The ſtate thus got riches, but loſt men; they had gold, but could not regain induſtry. Thus are their nations now incapable of defending them⯑ſelves againſt powerful foreign invaſion. The im⯑menſe wealth of the Indies that every year comes home to their ports goes to inrich a few; their ſub⯑jects are either in the extremes of wealth or poverty; the rich have only ſlaves beneath them, who hate thoſe for whom they muſt labour; the poor have no acquiſitions, nor property, to defend; ſo that their armies are compoſed either of wretches preſſed into the ſervice, who only ſeek for opportunities not to fight, but to fly; or of men, rich and noble, courageous from pride, yet weak from luxury. Such is not, as yet, the caſe of England, nor will ever be, if a paſſion for conqueſt is not miſtaken for national proſperity.

LETTER XXIX.

THE ſucceſs of our arms in America was at⯑chieved by moderate efforts; on the contrary, in Europe the efforts we made, and the operations of our great ally the King of Pruſſia, were aſtoniſh⯑ing, yet produced no very ſignal effects. Safety was all that could be expected; and this was ſecured con⯑trary to all human expectation. You have juſt ſeen that Monarch ſurrounded by enemies; the greateſt and moſt formidable powers of Europe; you have ſeen almoſt the whole power of the continent united againſt, and hovering over, his devoted dominions; and the only allies that remained to him bound by treaty to retire, and give him no aſſiſtance. In this terrible ſituation he ſtill adhered to his fortitude, and, relying on his natural ſubjects alone, reſolved never to abandon his claims. Such was the deſperate condition of his affairs; yet they were ſtill rendered more hopeleſs, when he was informed that his only friend, the Monarch of that generous people which had hitherto ſupplied him with money and ſtores, was going to forſake him, and leave him to irreme⯑diable ruin. It was thus he expoſtulated with the doubting Monarch upon this occaſion: ‘Is it poſſible that your Majeſty can have ſo little fortitude and conſtancy, as to be diſpirited by a ſmall reverſe of fortune. Are our affairs ſo ruinous that they cannot be repaired? Conſider the ſtep you have made me undertake, and remember that 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 intreat you will not ingloriouſly leave me at the mercy of my enemies, after having brought upon me all the powers of Europe.’ The French and Imperialiſts, after a ſucceſsful ſum⯑mer campaign, were, at this time, which was the depth of winter, ſat down to the ſiege of Leipſic. His Pruſ⯑ſian Majeſty dreaded the capture of this important [244] city, and ſoon, unexpectedly, ſeemed to riſe up before it. Such was the terror of his arms, even vanquiſh⯑ed as he had been, that his approach raiſed the ſiege, and the French, though ſuperior in number, retreat⯑ed. He, at length, overtook them at a village called Roſbach, and gained ſo complete a victory, that night alone ſaved their whole army from deſtruction. The Auſtrians were, in another part of the Empire, ſtill victorious, and had taken the Prince of Bevern, his generaliſſimo, priſoner. The King, after a dreadful march of two hundred miles, in the depth of win⯑ter, came up with them near Breſlau, diſpoſed his inferior forces with his uſual judgment, and obtained another bloody victory, in which he took not leſs than fifteen thouſand priſoners. Breſlau, with a gar⯑riſon of ten thouſand men, ſurrendered ſoon after, Theſe ſucceſſes diſpirited the enemy, and raiſed his allies to new hopes.

After the capitulation of Cloſter-Severn was ſign⯑ed, between the Duke of Cumberland and the Duke of Richelieu, both ſides began to complain of in⯑fractions. The Hanoverians accuſed the rapacity of the French General, and the inſolent brutality of his ſoldiers; while the French retorted the charge of inſurrection againſt them, and began to think of treat⯑ing as a conquered enemy thoſe whom they had only bound by treaty as neutrals. Treaties have never been preſerved longer than intereſt or compulſion bound them; political faith is a word without mean⯑ing; the French oppreſſed the Hanoverians; the lat⯑ter reſumed their arms; and each ſide complained, as uſual, of infraction. A General was not long want⯑ing to aſſemble the collecting army. Prince Ferdi⯑nand of Brunſwic put himſelf at their head, began by ſkirmiſhing with ſucceſs; and, at laſt, were in a capacity of becoming formidable to their late victors. From this time the King of Pruſſia ſought the enemy upon more equal terms than ever; often victorious, [245] ſometimes repulſed; but ever active and formidable. To name his victories, the towns he took, the dan⯑gers he eſcaped, and the loſſes he ſuffered, would take up more time than I would chuſe to grant to ſuch accounts, or you ſhould beſtow. Never was the art of war carried to ſuch a pitch as by him. In this war Europe ſaw, with aſtoniſhment, campaigns carried on in the midſt of winter; great and bloody battles fought, yet producing no viſible advantage to the victors. At no time, ſince the days of heroiſm, were ſuch numbers deſtroyed, ſo many towns taken, ſo many ſkirmiſhes fought, ſuch ſtratagems prac⯑tiſed, or ſuch intrepidity ſhewn. Armies now were conſidered as compoſing one ſingle machine, directed by the General, and animated with one will. From the commentary of theſe campaigns, ſucceeding Ge⯑nerals will take their leſſons for devaſtation, and im⯑prove in the arts of increaſing human calamity.

England was, all this time, happily retired from the calamities which drenched the reſt of Europe in blood; yet, from her natural military eagerneſs, ſeemed deſirous of ſharing thoſe dangers of which ſhe was only a ſpectator. This paſſion for carrying on a continental war, was not leſs pleaſing to the Monarch from his native attachments, than to the people from their natural propenſity to arms. As ſoon as it was known that Prince Ferdinand had put himſelf at the head of the Hanoverian army, his Britannic Majeſty, in a ſpeech at the opening of the ſeſſion of parliament, obſerved, that the late ſucceſſes in Germany had given an happy turn to his affairs, which it would be neceſſary to improve. The com⯑mons therefore granted liberal ſupplies both for the ſervice of the King of Pruſſia, and for enabling the army formed in the Electorate of Hanover, to act vigorouſly in conjunction with him. Soon after it was conſidered, that men would be a more grateful [246] ſupply than money. The miniſter who had firſt come into power and popularity, by oppoſing ſuch meaſures, was now prevailed upon to enter into them with even greater ardour than any of his predeceſſors. The hopes of putting a ſpeedy end to this war, by vigorous meaſures, his connexions, and, perhaps, the pleaſure he found in giving his Majeſty pleaſure, incited him eagerly into a continental war. It is certain, no miniſter could more powerfully ſecond a warlike Monarch's intentions; that ſpirit of enter⯑prize which had, in a meaſure, taken birth with his adminiſtration, he could now direct at will. The paſſion for military honour ſeemed diffuſed through all ranks of people; and it only wanted a channel in which to flow. In order to indulge this general in⯑clination, the Duke of Marlborough was ſent into Germany with a ſmall body of Britiſh forces to aſſiſt Prince Ferdinand, where they behaved with bravery, and conſpired in promoting that Prince's ſucceſſes. Each victory they gained, however, only ſerved as a pretext to call over new forces from Britain, while the Engliſh miniſtry were taught to believe that every laſt battle would be deciſive. The battle of Crevelt was fought, in which the Hanoverians and Engliſh had the advantage; but it produced no ef⯑fect. The victory of Minden followed; but laurels ſeemed to be all that England reaped from the con⯑quered field. After theſe two victories it was ſuppoſed, that one reinforcement more of Britiſh forces would terminate the war in our favour; a reinforcement was therefore ſent. The Britiſh troops in Germany now amounted to above thirty thouſand men, yet no advantage of any conſequence was the reſult of this formidable aſſiſtance. War was the trade of ſome Generals, and, it muſt be allowed, a gainful trade it was. Let me therefore, here again, paſs over this continued repetition of marchings, ſkirmiſhes, and [247] rencounters, nor load the page with names of Ger⯑man Generals, too difficult to be pronounced by an Engliſh tongue, and equally grating to a patriot ear. The victories of either ſide might, in fact, be con⯑ſidered as a compact by which ſomething was to be loſt on either ſide, and no advantage to be acquired. The Engliſh, at length, began to open their eyes to their own intereſt; nor could all the ſplendours of victory ſo far blind them, as not to ſee that they were waging unequal war, and aſſuming new loads of taxes for conqueſts they could neither preſerve nor enjoy. Such were the growing diſcontents of the people, when the King, who had inſpired theſe meaſures, unexpectedly died. On the twenty-fifth day of October, George II, without any previous diſorder, was found by his domeſtic ſervants, expiring in his chamber. He had ariſen at his uſual hour, and obſerved to his attendants, that as the weather was fine, he would walk out. In a few minutes af⯑ter this, being left alone, he was heard to fall down upon the floor. The noiſe of his fall brought his attendants into the room, who lifted him into bed, where he deſired, in a faint voice, that the Princeſs Amelia might be ſent for; but before her arrival he expired. George II. died in the 77^th year of his age, and the 33^d of his reign, in the midſt of victory; and, at that very period, when the univer⯑ſal enthuſiaſm of conqueſt began to ſubſide for more ſober reflexions. If any Monarch was happy in the peculiar mode and time of his death, it was he. The factions which had been nurſing in his reign, had not yet come to maturity; and all their virulence threat⯑ened to fall upon his ſucceſſor. He was himſelf of no ſhining abilities; and, conſequently, while he was ſuffered to guide his German dominions, he entruſted the care of Britain to his miniſters at home. How⯑ever, as we ſtand too near this Monarch to view his [248] real character without partiality, take the following characters of him, by two writers of oppoſite ſenti⯑ments.

‘"As to the extent of his underſtanding (ſays one) or the ſplendour of his virtue, we rather wiſh for opportunities of praiſing, than undertake the taſk ourſelves. His public character was marked with a predilection for his native country, to which he ſacrificed all other motives."’

On the other hand, ſays his panegyriſt, ‘"On whatever ſide we look upon his character, we ſhall find ample matter for juſt and unſuſpected praiſe. None of his predeceſſors in the throne of England lived to ſo great an age, or enjoyed longer felicity. His ſubjects were ſtill improving under him in commerce and arts; and his own oeconomy ſet a prudent example to the nation, which, however, they did not follow. He was, in his temper, ſudden and violent; but this, though it influenced his behaviour, made no change in his conduct, which was generally guid⯑ed by reaſon. He was plain and direct in his in⯑tentions, 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 vio⯑lence of faction. In ſhort, through the whole of life he appeared rather to live for the cultivation of uſeful virtues than ſplendid ones; and, ſatisfied with being good, left others their unenvied great⯑neſs."’

LETTER XXX.

I Am ſorry that praiſe beſtowed on living merit is often found to injure the goodneſs it applauds. The character of the ſucceſſor of George the ſecond deſerves the warmeſt panegyric; and all who love their country only wiſh for a continuance of that ſpirit, and that virtue which has hitherto appeared in him. Never did Monarch come to the throne at a more critical period; the nation, fluſhed with con⯑queſt, yet tired of war; expecting the loweſt ſub⯑miſſion from their humbled enemies, yet murmuring under the immenſe load of their taxes. One part of the people acquiring immenſe wealth by the conti⯑nuance of hoſtilities; another reduced almoſt to bank⯑ruptcy. Beſides this, he ſaw the throne hedged round by ignorance and faction, men intent only on their own intereſts, and willing to perſuade Monarchy that whatever conduced to their own wiſhes was di⯑rected for the welfare of the kingdom. It was in this diſpoſition of things, that George III. came to the crown. The kingdom began to divide into two parties; or, more properly ſpeaking, the very ſame individuals ſeemed to wear, at once, a face of joy and diſcontent. They felt all the triumphs of their ſucceſſes, but juſtly dreaded the conſequences of an expenſive continuance of them. The numberleſs victo⯑ries they gained by ſea continued to keep them in ſpirits, and induced them to ſupply the immenſe ex⯑pences of the year with chearfulneſs. During the whole period of the war ſucceeding the execution of Admiral Byng, nothing could be carried on with more ſpirit and reſolution, than all our naval engage⯑ments. In every enterprize the ſuperior bravery, ſkill, and dexterity of the Engliſh were obvious. Often with forces very much diſproportioned, they [250] took their adverſaries ſhips, and effectually diſabled the enemies force by ſea.

No hiſtory can furniſh examples of ſuch numerous fleets, or more active commanders. This deſire for victory ſeemed even to diffuſe itſelf to the loweſt officers; and the captains of privateers ſeemed as much enamoured of conqueſt as with a deſire of gain. The Admirals, Hawke, Howe, Boſcawen, Pocock, &c. were always victorious; the Captains, Tyrrel, Foſter, Gilchriſt, Lockhart, and others, often fought at a diſadvantage, but never without honour. As an inſtance of the intrepid ſpirit of our ſeamen in this war, I ſhall mention one action which poſterity, if it were only ſingly ſupported, might look upon as incredible. The annals of mankind cannot ſhew an effort of more deſperate courage than was exerted under the command of captain William Death, commander of the Terrible privateer. He had, in the beginning of his cruize, made prize of a rich merchant-ſhip, and with this was returning home to England in triumph, when he had the misfortune to fall in with the Ven⯑geance privateer of St. Malo, much his ſuperior in force, he having but twenty-ſix guns, the enemy thirty-ſix, and a proportionable number of men. The Terrible's prize was ſoon taken, and converted againſt her; but, though ſo unequally matched, cap⯑tain Death maintained a furious engagement that cannot be paralleled in the annals of any country. The French commander and his ſecond were killed, with two thirds of his company; but much more dreadful was the ſlaughter on board the Terrible. When the enemy boarded it, they only found one ſcene of ſlaughter, ſilence, and deſolation. Of two hundred men only ſixteen were found remaining, and the ſhip itſelf ſo ſhattered as ſcarcely to be kept above water.

[251] Such were the dear-bought naval victories of France; and ſuch was the obſtinacy of the Engliſh, even when defeated, that the court of Verſailles, at length, ſeemed to demand peace at any rate. To this requeſt the Engliſh were ready to accede, and Plenipotentiaries were ſent from either court to ne⯑gociate ſo wiſhed-for a reconciliation. France ſent to London Mr. Buſſy, a man rather ſkilled in the arts of negotiation than the open integrity becoming the miniſter of a great nation. England ſent over, in exchange, Mr. Stanley, to Paris.

It ſeemed to be a fundamental principle in this treaty, which, however, proved ineffectual, that each country was to be conſidered as poſſeſſors of their re⯑ſpective conqueſts; and that if any ſuch were to be given up on one ſide, it was to be only in exchange for ſuch as had been made by the other. Upon theſe terms it is obvious, that the Engliſh were likely to be great gainers by a treaty, as they had taken ſeve⯑ral places and dominions from the French, and had loſt only Minorca. Whether the French had a real deſire to proceed upon ſuch terms is uncertain; however, they ſoon gave the Engliſh miniſtry ſuffi⯑cient reaſons to be diſſatisfied with their proceedings. Mr. Pitt, who had for a long time been ſucceſsful, actuated all the Engliſh meaſures, and guided their councils, had ever diſdained that pedantry of po⯑litical refinement, of which others ſo vainly boaſt⯑ed; he negociated therefore in a plain ſimple man⯑ner; his guide, ſincerity; and his only object, his country's good. Several points were agreed upon between each nation, that gave great hopes that an ac⯑commodation might ſpeedily be the reſult. The French agreed to give up all Canada, a fort upon the river Senegal in Africa, and to reſtore Minorca. The chief objects in debate were, the privilege they claimed of continuing to fiſh upon the Banks of Newfoundland, and of having the damages repaired which they [252] ſuſtained by the taking of their ſhipping before a de⯑claration of war. Theſe two points were warmly negotiated on either ſide, not without hopes of ſpeedy adjuſtment, when, unexpectedly, the whole treaty was, at once, ſet aſide by the interpoſition of the Spaniſh miniſter, who deſired to have the intereſts of Spain alſo included in the treaty. Mr. Pitt very juſtly con⯑ſidered, that as Spain had no part in the war, ſo it was impertinent in that power to intermeddle in a treaty of peace; and he regarded this interpoſition in its true light, namely, that of a confederacy be⯑tween France and Spain mutually to ſupport each other's intereſt. Confident therefore of his own in⯑tegrity, and, perhaps, alſo too much elated by popu⯑lar applauſe, he began to treat the French negotiator with a great ſhare of haughtineſs, of which he com⯑plained to his court at home; and he was ſoon re⯑called.

This conduct of Mr. Pitt might have juſtly in⯑curred reproach, had he had no private intimations of a ſecret alliance between France and Spain. The laſt named power had actually entered into a family compact with France, by which they engaged to car⯑ry on a war in conjunction. Of all this the Engliſh ſecretary had been previouſly apprized, and propoſed in the privy council to anticipate the deſigns of Spain by an immediate declaration of war againſt her. Vi⯑gour, diſpatch, and reſolution, characterized all the plans of this miniſter; he found, however, in the privy council men who were willing to act with more deliberation, and who deſired a certainty of offence before they demanded a reparation. Spain, they ſaid, has yet given no certain proofs of their hoſtile inten⯑tions; and the Engliſh miniſter at the court of Ma⯑drid ſtill continues to aſſure us of their pacific inten⯑tions. Theſe remonſtrances were anſwered by the ſecretary, but without producing the deſired convic⯑tion; ſeeing himſelf therefore almoſt ſingular in his [253] opinion, he was reſolved to leave an aſſembly wher [...] he knew himſelf maligned; and he threw up the di⯑rection of meaſures, which, to uſe his own expreſ⯑ſion, he was no longer allowed to guide. The council was, at that time, divided between two parties, who were both equally pleaſed at his reſig⯑nation. One part conſiſted of thoſe who were at the head of affairs during the preceding reign; the other ſuch as had been taken into favour in this; neither were diſpleaſed at the removal of a man whoſe po⯑pularity threw them into the ſhade, and whoſe ve⯑hemence controlled their moderation. But this po⯑pular miniſter's being removed, did not reſtore una⯑nimity to the council. The parts which were held together by his preſence, now diſunited, and a diſ⯑ſention began, which ſtill continues to ſubſiſt.

The declaration of war with Spain, ſoon after, ſhewed how well-grounded Mr. Pitt's meaſures were, when he propoſed a former rupture. However, the union of France and Spain, and the diſunion of our own miniſtry at home, did not ſeem to retard the progreſs of our arms. The iſland of Martinico was conquered by Admiral Rodney and General Monck⯑ton; the iſland of St. Lucia ſurrendered ſoon after to Captain Harvey; Granada was taken by Briga⯑dier Walſh; and all the neutral iſlands ſubmitted to the Engliſh dominion. But a bolder blow was ſtruck againſt the Spaniards; a powerful fleet, and an army of fifteen thouſand men, was ſent againſt the Havan⯑nah, the key of all their poſſeſſions in South Ame⯑rica. It made a noble reſiſtance; but in the end was taken. And now the enemies of Great Britain were humbled on every ſide; the French left with⯑out trade or ſhipping; the ſource of Spaniſh oppu⯑lence interrupted; nothing remained for them, but to aſk for peace, upon ſuch terms as we were pleaſed to grant. A negociation was accordingly once more begun between the three powers, by the intervention [254] of the King of Sardinia's Ambaſſador; the Duke of Bedford was ſent over to Paris, and the Duke De Nivernois came to London; and, at length, the definitive treaty was ſigned at Paris by the Duke of Bedford, the Duc De Praſlin, and the Marquis De Grimaldi, and arrived in London February 19, 1763. In order to purchaſe peace the French gave up all Canada, their right to the neutral iſlands, the fort of Senegal, and their right of fiſhing on the coaſts of Newfoundland and the gulph of St. Lawrence, but at a certain diſtance from ſhore. Spain alſo gave up, on her part, the extenſive country of Florida; ſo that the Engliſh empire was thus greatly enlarged; and, if we compute its ſtrength by the quantity of land included in its dominions, it can now boaſt more power than even the great Roman empire.

But no country ſhould build upon remote ſtrength; true power muſt always ſubſiſt at home. When the branches of a large empire become more powerful than the original ſtem, inſtead of aſſiſting it's growth, they only overload and exhauſt it nouriſhment. The diſcontents, therefore, which many have expreſſed at the concluſion of the late peace, that we did not in⯑ſiſt upon harder terms, and increaſe our poſſeſſions, were ill founded, ſince it is probable we are already poſſeſſed of more than government can manage. There is ever a certain extent of empire which po⯑litics are able to wield; beyond this her magnificence is but empty pomp, and her ſize but corpulence.