CHAPTER III.THE REACTION.1715.

Asthe tide of popular feeling seemed flowing in favour of the new King, the Government took advantage of it to dissolve Parliament, which had now sat for nearly six months since the death of Queen Anne. This Parliament behaved with dignity and circumspection at a crisis of English history. The majority of the members of the House of Commons were Tory, but, despite a certain element of Jacobitism, they had shown their loyal acquiescence in the Hanoverian succession in a variety of ways. They had voted to George the First a civil list of £700,000 per annum, of which £100,000 was for the Prince of Wales; they had even agreed, though with wry faces, to pay £65,000 which the King claimed as arrears due to his Hanoverian troops. The Tories had certainly earned more consideration from the King than they received. But the fiat had gone forth that there was to be no commerce with them, and Ministers were determined to obtain a Whig majority. To this end they not only employed all the resources of bribery and corruptionby lavish expenditure of secret service money, but were so unconstitutional as to drag the King into the arena of party politics. In the Royal Proclamation summoning the new Parliament, the King was made to call upon the electors to baffle the designs of disaffected persons, and “to have a particular regard to such as showed a fondness to the Protestant succession when it was in danger”. This was perhaps to some extent justified by a manifesto which James had issued the previous August from Lorraine, in which he spoke of George as “a foreigner ignorant of the language, laws and customs of England,” and said he had been waiting to claim his rights on the death “of the Princess our sister, of whose good intentions towards us we could not for some time past well doubt”. This manifesto compromised the late Queen’s Ministers, and the Government determined to challenge the verdict of the country upon it.

The Jacobites were quite willing to meet the issue. Riots broke out at Birmingham, Bristol, Chippenham, Norwich and other considerable towns in the kingdom. In the words of the old Cavalier song, it was declared that times would not mend “until the King enjoyed his own again,” and James’s health was drunk at public and private dinners by passing the wine glass over the water bottle, thus transforming the toast of “The King,” into “The King over the water”. The hawkers of pamphlets and ballads openly vended and shouted Jacobite songs in the streets, and many of them were prosecuted with great severity. Two forces, oppositeenough in other ways, the Church and the Stage, were found to be united against the Government, and a Royal Proclamation was issued commanding the clergy not to touch upon politics in their sermons, and forbidding farces and plays which held Protestant dissenters up to ridicule.

The violence of the Jacobites played into the hands of the Government and considerably embarrassed the moderate section of the Tory party, who, under the leadership of Sir Thomas Hanmer, were opposed to the restoration of a Roman Catholic prince, and were willing to support the monarchy as represented by the House of Hanover, provided that they had some voice in the government of the country. But the Whigs pressed home their advantage, and raised the cry of “No Popery,” with which they knew the nation as a whole thoroughly agreed. The Tories could only fall back on their old cry, “The Church in danger,” declaring that George the First was not abonâ-fidemember of the Church of England, but a Protestant Lutheran, and pointing to the fact that he had brought with him his Lutheran chaplain. But this was clearly inconsistent, for though the King was not a sound Churchman, he was not a man to make difficulties about religious matters, and he had unhesitatingly conformed to the Church of England, and had attended services in the Chapel Royal and received the sacrament, together with the Prince and Princess of Wales. The Church would be obviously in far greater danger from a Roman Catholic prince whorefused to acknowledge the validity of Anglican sacraments or orders, and who regarded the Church of England as heretical.

The result of the General Election was a foregone conclusion, for though only a year or two before the people in many parts of England had shown themselves well disposed towards a Stuart restoration, they were easily led by those in authority. The mob is always ready to shout with the stronger, and in this instance the Whigs and the Hanoverians had clearly shown themselves the stronger. There had been an improvement in trade and a good harvest, and this told in favour of the newrégime. In short the great mass of the people were utterly weary of political strife and revolutions; all they wanted was to be left to live their lives, and do their work in peace, and, provided they were not overtaxed, or their liberties and religion menaced, they were quite indifferent whether a Stuart or a Guelph reigned over them. Outside London and the great cities politics did not affect the people one way or another, but prejudice goes for something, and there is no doubt that the people of England, by an overwhelming majority, were prejudiced against the Roman Catholic religion, and a Roman Catholic claimant to the throne, after their experience of James the Second was naturally regarded with suspicion. The English people knew little as yet about George from Hanover, and cared less; the only thing they knew was that he was not a Roman Catholic, and that was in his favour. They sighed too for a settled form ofgovernment, and this the Hanoverian succession seemed to promise them.

When the new Parliament met in March, the Whigs had an overwhelming majority in the House of Commons. The King opened Parliament in person, but as he was unable to speak English, his speech was read by Lord Chancellor Cowper. In it George the First was made to declare that he was “called to the throne of his ancestors,” and he would uphold the established constitution of Church and State. It was soon evident that the Whigs meant to follow up their victory at the polls by persecuting their opponents. In the House of Lords the Address contained the words “to recover the reputation of this kingdom,” and Bolingbroke made his last speech in Parliament in moving an amendment to substitute the word “maintain” for the word “recover,” which, he eloquently objected, would cast a slur upon the reign of the late Queen. Of course the amendment was lost. The temper of the new Parliament was soon made manifest, and threats of impeachment were the order of the day. At one time it seemed likely that Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, would be impeached, for Walpole declared in the House of Commons that, “Evident proofs will appear of a meeting having been held by some considerable persons, one of whom is not far off, wherein it was proposed to proclaim the Pretender at the Royal Exchange”. This, of course, was an allusion to the hurried meeting which had been held in Lady Masham’s apartments when the Queen lay dying,and Atterbury’s offer to go forth and proclaim James. But all the Ministers were not so zealous as Walpole, and more moderate counsels prevailed; they were afraid of arousing the old cry of “The Church in danger,” and Atterbury was left alone. But Bolingbroke in the House of Lords sat and heard that he and some of his late colleagues were to be impeached of high treason.

Bolingbroke affected to treat the threat with contempt, and for some days he went about in public as usual, saying that he was glad to be quit of the cares of office, and to be able to devote his leisure to literature. On the evening of March 26th (1715), he ostentatiously showed himself in a box at Drury Lane, discussed plans for the morrow, and laughed and talked with his friends. When the performance was over, he went back to his house, disguised himself as a serving man in a large coat and a black wig, and stole off under cover of the darkness to Dover, whence he crossed in a small vessel to France. It was said that Bolingbroke’s flight, a grave mistake, was largely determined by Marlborough, who, being anxious to get him out of the way, pretended he had certain knowledge that it was agreed between the English Ministers and the Dutch Government that he was to be beheaded.

A Committee of Secrecy was now formed to examine into the conduct of the last Ministry of Queen Anne with regard to the Treaty of Utrecht and James’s restoration. This committee consisted of twenty-one members, all Whigs, and when atsafe distance he saw the list, Bolingbroke must have known that he had little chance of a fair trial, for the chairman of the committee was his bitter enemy, Robert Walpole. The Tories in Parliament still believed, or pretended to believe, that matters would not be carried to extremities, and talked much of the clemency of the King, but they were mistaken. When the committee reported it was found that Oxford, Ormonde and Bolingbroke were to be impeached of high treason, and Strafford, who was one of the plenipotentiaries at Utrecht, was accused of high crimes and misdemeanours. Ormonde was living at Richmond in great state, and, since his dismissal, had ostentatiously ignored the House of Hanover. He was very popular with the people, and had powerful friends in both Houses of Parliament, many of whom urged him to seek an audience of the King at once, and throw himself on the royal clemency. Others wished him to go to the west of England, and stir up an insurrection in favour of James. Ormonde did neither. Like Bolingbroke, he was seized with panic, and determined to fly to France. Before he went he visited Oxford and besought him to escape also. Oxford refused, and Ormonde took leave of him with the words: “Farewell, Oxford, without a head,” to which the latter replied: “Farewell, duke, without a duchy”.

Of the threatened lords Oxford was now the only one who remained. He was in the House of Lords to hear his impeachment, and when it was moved that he should be committed to the Tower,he made a short and dignified speech in his defence. He was escorted to the Tower by an enormous crowd, who cheered loudly for him and the principles he represented. The cheers were ominous to the Government, and showed that the Whigs in their lust for vengeance had shot their bolt too far. These impeachments were in fact merely the result of party animosity, and could not be justified on broad grounds. The Treaty of Utrecht, whether bad or good, had been approved by two Parliaments, and the responsibility for it therefore rested not upon the ex-Ministers, but upon the nation, which had sufficiently punished those Ministers when it drove them from power. From the report of the committee it seemed that the impeached lords had contemplated the restoration of James as a political possibility, but they had left no evidence to show that they had determined to restore him. On the contrary, both before and after the proclamation of the new King, they had made professions of loyalty to the House of Hanover.

It is impossible to say what George the First thought of these impeachments, probably he understood the principles of political freedom better than his Ministers. But the people had not yet divested themselves of the idea of the political responsibility of the King, and the persecuting spirit of the Ministers provoked a reaction not only against the Government, but against the monarch. The cheers which at first greeted the King’s appearance in public now gave place to hoots and seditious cries.

For this unpopularity the King himself was largely responsible. The result of the election made him feel surer of his position on the throne, and he no longer troubled to conceal his natural ungraciousness. Unlike the Prince and Princess of Wales, he made no effort to court popularity or to feign sentiments he did not feel, and he openly expressed his dislike of England and all things English; he disliked the climate and the language, and did not trust the people. His dissatisfaction expressed itself even in the most trivial things. Nothing English was any good, even the oysters were without flavour. The royal household were at their wits’ end to know what could be the matter with them, until at last some one remembered that Hanover was a long way from the sea, and that the King had probably never eaten a fresh oyster before he came to England. Orders were given that they should be kept until they were stale, and the difficulty was solved—the King expressed himself satisfied and enjoyed them. But his other peculiarities were not so easily overcome. Notwithstanding that Parliament had been so liberal with the civil list, George showed himself extremely penurious in everything that related to his English subjects. “This is a strange country,” he grumbled once; “the first morning after my arrival at St. James’s I looked out of a window and saw a park with walks and a canal, which they told me was mine. The next day Lord Chetwynd, the ranger of my park, sent me a brace of my carp out of my canal, and I wastold I must give five guineas to Lord Chetwynd’s man for bringing my own carp, out of my own canal, in my own park.” A reasonable complaint, it must be admitted, but his niggardliness had not always the same excuse. For example, it had been the custom of English sovereigns on their birthdays to give new clothes to their regiment of Guards, and George the First grudgingly had to follow precedent, but he determined to do it as cheaply as possible, and the shirts that were sent to the soldiers were so coarse that the men cried out against them. Some even went so far as to throw them down in the court-yard of St. James’s Palace, and soon after, when a detachment was marching through the city to relieve guard at the Tower, the soldiers evinced their mutinous disposition by pulling out their undergarments and showing them to the crowd, shouting derisively, “Look at our Hanoverian shirts”. The King’s miserliness did not extend to his Hanoverians. When his Hanoverian cook came to him and declared that he must go back home, as he could not control the waste and thefts that went on in the royal kitchen, the King laughed outright, and said: “Never mind, my revenues now will bear the expense. You rob like the English, and mind you take your share.” The King also wished to shut up St. James’s Park for his private benefit, and when he asked Townshend how much it would cost to do so, the Minister replied, “Only three crowns, sire”. Whereat the King remarked it was a pity, as it would make a fine field for turnips.

George the First had nothing of majesty in his demeanour or appearance. He disliked uniforms, and generally appeared in a shabby suit of brown cloth, liberally besprinkled with snuff. He was a gluttonous eater and frequently drank too much. When he came to England his habits were set, and he was too old to change them even if he had the will to do so, which he had not. The English people might take him, or leave him, just as they pleased. He had never made any advances to them, and he was not going to begin now. George’s abrupt manner and coarse habits must have been a severe test to the loyalty of his courtiers, who had been accustomed to the grace and dignity of the Stuarts. Certainly not his most fervent supporters could pretend that he ruled by right Divine, nor was it possible to revive for him the old feeling of romantic loyalty which had hitherto circled around the persons of the English kings. Yet in fairness it must be said that behind his rude exterior he had some good qualities, but they were not those which made for popularity.

His great error as King of England was that he wantonly added to his unpopularity by the horde of hungry Hanoverians, “pimps, whelps and reptiles,” as they were called in a contemporary print, whom he brought over with him, and who at once set to work to make themselves as unpleasant as possible. Much of the King’s regal authority was exercised through what has been called “The Hanoverian Junta,” three Ministers who came in his suite, Bothmar, Bernstorff and Robethon. Bothmar’s positionin England immediately before Queen Anne’s death had been difficult and delicate, and he was hated by Bolingbroke and the Tories, a hatred which, when his royal master came into power, he was able to repay fourfold. His knowledge of English affairs was unrivalled by any other Hanoverian. As George became more acquainted with his new subjects, Bothmar ceased to be so useful, but at first his influence was paramount, and he amassed a large fortune from the bribes given him by aspirants to the royal favour. Bernstorff had been prime minister in Hanover since the death of Count Platen, and for many years previously had held the position of chief adviser to the Duke of Celle. He had earned George’s goodwill by prejudicing the Duke of Celle against his daughter, Sophie Dorothea—indeed Bernstorff may be said to have contributed to the Princess’s ruin, and he was even now largely responsible for her strict and continued imprisonment. In foreign affairs Bernstorff gained considerable influence, and worked for the aggrandisement of Hanover at the expense of England, with the full consent and approval of the King. He found his schemes, however, thwarted by Townshend on many occasions, and so he too directed his surplus energies to the sale of places. Robethon was a Frenchman of low birth. He had been at one time private secretary to William of Orange, and had been employed by the Elector of Hanover in carrying on a confidential correspondence with England—“a prying, impertinent, venomous creature,” Mahon callshim, “for ever crawling in some slimy intrigue”. He, too, was most venal, and seized every opportunity of enriching himself.

These three men brought with them two women, who were familiar figures at the Court of George the First. One was a Mademoiselle Schütz, a niece of Bernstorff, and probably a relative of the envoy who had been recalled by order of Queen Anne. She was of pleasing appearance, but made herself exceedingly offensive to the English ladies by giving herself great airs, and wishing to take precedence even of countesses. She also was a bird of prey, but as she had little influence, her opportunities of plunder were limited, and she seems mainly to have occupied herself with borrowing jewels from English peeresses, wherewith to bedeck her person, and forgetting to return them. By the time she went back to Hanover, it was computed that she carried off with her a large box of treasure obtained in this way. The other woman was Madame Robethon, wife of the secretary aforesaid, who, being of mean birth, squat figure, and harsh, croaking voice, was generally known in court circles asLa Grenouille, or “The Frog”.

But the avarice of all these was as nothing compared with that of the mistresses, Schulemburg and Kielmansegge, who were now nicknamed the “Maypole” and the “Elephant” respectively. These ladies were sumptuously lodged in St. James’s Palace, but their suites of rooms were situated far apart, with King George between them, a wise precaution, asthey hated one another with an intense and jealous hatred. Of the two, Schulemburg had immeasurably more influence, and, consequently, far greater opportunities of amassing a fortune. She was brazen and shameless in her greed for gold. When, as a protest against the arrest of his son-in-law Sir William Wyndham in 1715, the Duke of Somerset, the proudest nobleman in England, and the premier Protestant duke, resigned the Mastership of the Horse, Schulemburg had the impudence to propose that the office should be left vacant and the revenues given to her. To every one’s disgust, the King consented and handed over to her the profits of this appointment, amounting to £7,500 a year. Schulemburg was a veritable daughter of the horse-leech, always crying “Give, give,” and it says very little for English morals or honesty to find that, much as she was despised, her apartments at St. James’s Palace were crowded by some of the first of the Whig nobility, and not only they, but their wives and daughters paid the mistress their court.

The Princess of Wales always treated Schulemburg with politeness, and recognised the peculiar relationship which existed between her and the King. Towards Kielmansegge she was not so complaisant, and when, shortly after her arrival in England, that lady prayed to be received by the Princess, Caroline sent word to say that “in these matters things go by age, and she must, therefore, receive the oldest first,” namely, Schulemburg. Caroline had a strong dislike to Kielmansegge,whom she regarded as a most mischievous woman, and declared that “she never even stuck a pin in her gown without some object”. Kielmansegge did not get nearly so many perquisites as her companion in iniquity. Incidentally she secured a prize, such as a sum of £500 from one Chetwynd for obtaining for him an appointment in the Board of Trade, with the additional sum of £200 per annum as long as he held it. This was rather a heavy tax upon his salary, but as the appointment was a sinecure, and Chetwynd quite incompetent to fill it even if it had not been, he was content to get it on any terms. The indignation of the people was especially directed against these two women. The English people had been accustomed by the Stuarts to royal mistresses; they could forgive the Hanoverian women their want of morals, and even their avarice had they kept it within bounds; but they could not forgive their lack of beauty, and when they set out in the King’s coaches to take the air, they were often greeted with jeers and yells. On one of these occasions, when the crowd was more than usually offensive, Schulemburg, who had picked up a little English by this time, thrust her painted face out of the window of the coach and cried: “Goot pipple what for you abuse us, we come for all your goots?” “Yes, damn ye,” shouted a fellow in the crowd, “and for all our chattels too.”

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.(IN EASTERN DRESS.)

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.

(IN EASTERN DRESS.)

There were two more members of this strange household who incurred their share of odium, theKing’s Turks, Mustapha and Mahomet, who alone were admitted into the royal bedchamber to dress and undress the monarch—duties which until this reign had been performed by English officers of the household appointed by the King. These Turks, although occupying so humble a position, were paid much court to, and were able to acquire a considerable sum of money by doing a trade in minor appointments about the royal household, such as places for pages, cooks, grooms, and so forth.

The King, who disliked state and ceremonial, after the first year of his reign appeared at the drawing-rooms at St. James’s only for a brief time, leaving the honours to be done by the Princess of Wales. He liked best to spend his evenings quietly in the apartments of one of his mistresses, smoking a pipe and drinking German beer, or playing ombre or quadrille for small sums. To these parties few English were ever invited. “The King of England,” says the Count de Broglie, “has no predilection for the English nation, and never receives in private any English of either sex.”58But to this rule there were two notable exceptions. One was the younger Craggs, and the other Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whose beauty and vivacity, and free and easy manners and conversation, made her peculiarly acceptable to Schulemburg and the King.

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who was the eldest daughter of the wealthy and profligate Duke of Kingston, was one of the most remarkable women of her time. Her upbringing had given an impetusto her natural originality; she had lost her mother when she was a child, and had grown up under the care of her father, who made much of her, but who was far from a judicious guardian. As a girl Lady Mary was allowed to run wild among the stables and kennels, but her sense and thirst for knowledge prevented her from abusing her freedom. She read widely anything and everything, taught herself Latin, and acquired a thorough knowledge of Greek and French. Her father was very proud of her, and proposed her as a toast to the famous Kit-Cat club, at one of their festive gatherings at a tavern in the Strand. The members demurred on the ground that they had never seen her. “Then you shall!” said the duke with an oath, and he forthwith sent his man home to say that Lady Mary was to be dressed in her best and brought to him at once. The child, for she was then only eight years old, was received with acclamations by the assembled company whom she delighted with her ready answers; her health was drunk with enthusiasm, and her name engraved upon the glasses. Lady Mary afterwards declared that this was the proudest moment of her life; she was passed from the knee of a poet to the arms of a statesman, and toasted by some of the most eminent men in England. While she was still quite young Lady Mary fell in love with Edward Wortley Montagu, who was a young man of good presence, good family, well mannered and well educated. She was never much in love with him, and she showed herself quite alive to his defects, but she clung tohim with a curious persistency. The old duke peremptorily forbade the marriage, but after many difficulties Wortley Montagu persuaded Lady Mary to elope with him, and they were privately married by special licence.

When George the First came to the throne Wortley Montagu, who was a Whig, obtained, through the patronage of his powerful friends, a lordship of the Treasury. The duties of his office brought him to London, and his wife came with him. Her wit, beauty and originality made a sensation at the early drawing-rooms of George the First. With all her charms there was in Lady Mary a vein of coarseness, the result no doubt of her upbringing, which made her particularly sympathetic to the coarse and sensual King. He talked with her, admired her French, and admitted her into his special intimacy, though there is nothing to show that he entertained any feelings for her beyond those of paternal friendship for a young and beautiful girl, for she was then little more. But the Prince of Wales, who fancied himself a great gallant, soon began to pay her marked attention. His admiration was open and confessed, and one evening when she appeared at Court radiant in her beauty and splendidly attired, he was so struck with admiration that he called to the Princess, who was playing cards in the next room, to come and see how beautifully Lady Mary was dressed. The Princess, though the most complaisant of wives, objected to being interrupted in her game to lookat the beauty of another woman, and so with a shrug of her shoulders she merely answered: “Lady Mary always dresses well,” and went on with her cards. It was soon found impossible by the courtiers at St. James’s to maintain the favour of both the King and the Prince; they had to choose between one and the other, and Lady Mary was no exception to the rule. The favour shown her by the King soon earned her the dislike of the Prince of Wales, a matter about which she was indifferent, as she had no liking for him. She distrusted him, and declared that “he looked on all men and women he saw as creatures he might kick or kiss for his diversion”. Of the two she preferred his sire, whom she credited with being passively good-natured. She, alone among English ladies, enjoyed the card parties and beer-drinkings in the King’s private apartments, with Schulemburg and Kielmansegge. She and the younger Craggs, who could talk French and German well, and who was rather a favourite of Schulemburg’s, often went to make a four at cards with Schulemburg and the King, and passed many a pleasant evening, according to their tastes, in this wise.

Lady Mary relates an amusing incident which happened at one of these royal parties. She was commanded to appear one evening, and went as in duty bound, but she explained to Schulemburg that she had a particular reason for wishing to leave early, and prayed her to ask the King’s leave. George, who disliked to have his parties broken up, remonstrated, but finding the lady anxious togo, gave her leave to depart. But when she rose he returned to the point, saying many other complimentary things, which she answered in a fitting manner, and finally managed to leave the room. The rest may be quoted: “At the foot of the great stairs she ran against Secretary Craggs just coming in, who stopped her to inquire what was the matter—was the company put off? She told him why she went away, and how urgently the King had pressed her to stay longer, possibly dwelling on that head with some small complacency. Mr. Craggs made no remark, but, when he had heard all, snatching her up in his arms as a nurse carries a child, he ran full speed with her up-stairs, deposited her within the ante-chamber, kissed both her hands respectfully (still not saying a word), and vanished. The pages, seeing her returned, they knew not how, hastily threw open the inner doors, and, before she had recovered her breath, she found herself again in the King’s presence. ‘Ah! la re-voilà,’ cried he extremely pleased, and began thanking her for her obliging change of mind. The motto on all palace gates is ‘Hush!’ as Lady Mary very well knew. She had not to learn that mystery and caution ever spread their awful wings over the precincts of a Court, where nobody knows what dire mischief may ensue from one unlucky syllable babbled about anything, or about nothing, at a wrong time. But she was bewildered, fluttered, and entirely off her guard; so, beginning giddily with, ‘O Lord, sir, I have been so frightened!’ she told his Majestythe whole story exactly as she would have told it to any one else. He had not done exclaiming, nor his Germans wondering, when again the door flew open, and the attendants announced Mr. Secretary Craggs, who, but that moment arrived it should seem, entered with the usual obeisance, and as composed an air as if nothing had happened. ‘Mais comment donc, Monsieur Craggs,’ said the King, going up to him, ‘est-ce que c’est l’usage de ce pays de porter des belles dames comme un sac de froment?’ ‘Is it the custom of this country to carry about fair ladies like a sack of wheat?’ The Minister, struck dumb by this unexpected attack, stood a minute or two not knowing which way to look; then, recovering his self-possession, answered with a low bow, ‘There is nothing I would not do for your Majesty’s satisfaction’. This was coming off tolerably well; but he did not forgive the tell-tale culprit, in whose ear, watching his opportunity when the King turned from them, he muttered a bitter reproach, with a round oath to enforce it, ‘which I durst not resent,’ continued she, ‘for I had drawn it upon myself; and, indeed, I was heartily vexed at my own imprudence’.”59

It was a peculiarity of George I. that he had no friends in the world, not even his Hanoverian minions and mistresses, who followed him here from interested motives, with the exception of Schulemburg. The English, even those who were admittedto his intimacy, like Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, had little good to say of him. “In private life he would have been called an honest blockhead,” she writes, “and Fortune, which made him a King, added nothing to his happiness, only prejudiced his honesty and shortened his days.”60If this were the case with people who were near him and benefited by his favours, how can it be wondered that he was unpopular with his subjects at large? There was nothing to be spread abroad in his favour, not one gracious act, not one gracious word or kindly speech. The more his subjects knew of him the more they disliked him, and the reaction was soon setting in full flood. The foreign policy of the Government, which was directly influenced by the King and Bernstorff, tended to increase George’s unpopularity. The quarrel with Sweden on the purely Hanoverian question of Bremen and Verden, and the despatch of an English fleet to the Baltic, brought home to the nation the fact that it would be liable to be constantly embroiled in continental quarrels for the sake of Hanover.

The King, like his Hanoverians, considered his tenure of the English throne a precarious one. “He rather considers England as a temporary possession to be made the most of while it lasts than as a perpetual inheritance to himself and his family,” wrote the French ambassador; and, says Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, “the natural honestyof his temper, joined with the narrow motives of a low education, made him look upon his acceptance of the crown as an act of usurpation which was always uneasy to him”. At any rate, George was too honest to feign a belief in James being a pretended son of James the Second, and he knew, but for the accident of his Protestantism, that he had no claim to the English crown. To benefit Hanover at the expense of England was the keynote of his policy, and when the nation began to be aware of it, the tide of discontent ran higher and higher, and Jacobite plots were reported in all directions. There were riots on the King’s birthday, the crowds wore turnips in their hats in derision of George’s wish to turn St. James’s Park into a turnip field, effigies of dissenting ministers were burned, and their chapels wrecked. James’s health was publicly drunk on Ludgate Hill and in other places; the mob loudly shouted “Ormonde” and “No George,” and the following doggerel was sung in thestreets:—

If Queen Anne had done justice George had stillO’er slaves and German boobies reigned,On leeks and garlic still regaled his feast,In dirty dowlas shirts and fustians dressed.

If Queen Anne had done justice George had still

O’er slaves and German boobies reigned,

On leeks and garlic still regaled his feast,

In dirty dowlas shirts and fustians dressed.

Disaffection spread everywhere, and recruiting for James went on even among the King’s guards. In many quarters there was something like a panic, but the King went about as usual, indifferent to danger. England, he frankly owned, had disappointed him, and perhaps he did not greatly carewhether he was sent back to Hanover or not. So things continued through the summer and autumn, until in November they came to a crisis, and mounted messengers galloped south with the news that James’s standard had been unfurled in the Highlands.

FOOTNOTES TO BOOK II, CHAPTER III:58La Correspondance Secrète du Comte Broglie.59Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Letters and Works, edited by Lord Wharnecliff.60Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Letters and Works, edited by Lord Wharnecliff.

58La Correspondance Secrète du Comte Broglie.

59Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Letters and Works, edited by Lord Wharnecliff.

60Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Letters and Works, edited by Lord Wharnecliff.

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