DOMESTIC TROUBLES AND COMMOTIONS.
While America threatened some fearful catastrophe, Great Britain was scarcely less disturbed by internal troubles and commotions. Much as he desired the happiness of the people, the jewels set in his majesty’s crown were intermixed with sharp, piercing thorns. This is plainly observable in the previous pages, wherein the difficulties which had beset his various administrations, and which chiefly arose from the discordant passions of their members, are historically narrated. Burke rightly observes:—“Our constitution stands on a nice equipoise, with steep precipices and deep waters on all sides of it: in removing it from a dangerous leaning toward one side, there may be a risk of oversetting it on the other. Every project or a material change in a government so complicated, combined, at the same time, with external circumstances still more complicated, is a matter full of difficulties.” This is not the language of a casual observer of men and manners, but of a profound politician. It is borne out by his majesty’s early experience. The scheme which he adopted soon after his accession of breaking the power of the Whig aristocracy, and of calling men of different parties to the service of the state, was not only surrounded with difficulties, but fraught with clanger. Men looked with favour on the long-established supremacy of these great families, and their influence and power were therefore not easily broken. Bute sought to dissolve the spell; but the hand of Bute was not that of a magician, and he signally failed in the attempt. Broken, but not subdued, the aristocracy formed new parties, and acted upon new principles, all calculated, when dictated by the spirit of opposition, to annoy the sovereign, and disarrange the machinery of the state. Cabinets, formed with nice art and care, were unable to withstand their opponents; whence their frequent disarrangements and dissolutions. The age became signalised by ministerial revolutions and cabinet abortions; and why? because the cabinets formed were not supported by public opinion. Parliament itself had lost much of its credit with the people by reason of its indecisive measures. It had forfeited their confidence, nor could the recall of Pitt to the helm of state restore it to their favour, or rescue the sovereign from the dilemma in which he had placed himself. Intractable at all times, from the opposition he had met with, and from ill health, he had become so imperious, that, like an old Roman consul, he would fain have yoked the people, the cabinet, and the monarch to his chariot-wheels. Moreover, since he had become an earl, he was a changed man. He no longer sided with, but against, the people; sheltering himself from their clamours in the stronghold of privilege. Hence it was, that when he coalesced with others, he found no support on which he could lean with safety, and by which he could assist the monarch. His staff was but a reed on which, if he leant, it pierced his hand. This Chatham felt; and though he clung tenaciously to office, from the fear of displaying his weakness and incapacity, he only acted, when he did act, behind the scenes. Ministerial exertions were also paralysed by another cause. A prevalent notion existed that there was a mysterious power about the court which worked to the detriment of the public good. This was a constant theme of invective among the opposition, and, it would seem, not without good reason. But there was another cause of obstruction to the measures formed by government. This was found in the democratical spirit, which now universally prevailed. Courted by the aristocracy, who had till very recently
“Held them dangling at arm’s length in scorn,”
and grown comparatively wealthy since relieved from the pressure of war, the population became restless, jealous, and insubordinate. The man whose fortune was only made, as it were, yesterday, deemed himself as great a man as the highest and noblest born aristocrat; while the man who had squandered away his patrimony, sought to restore himself from his fallen position in society, by assuming principles of patriotism which in his heart he despised. Moreover, the conduct of their rulers, which had been too frequently vacillating and manifestly corrupt, taught the great body of the people to look upon them with suspicion and distrust. Talk they as loud as they might of honesty of intention, of unimpeachable integrity, and of pure patriotism, the people nevertheless would not now believe them. Hence, political associations began to be formed; taverns were made so many parliament houses; and the people seemed as if they were resolved to take the government into their own hands.
But oh! ye Muses, keep your votary’s feet From tavern-haunts where politicians meet Where rector, doctor, and attorney pause, First on each parish, then each public cause: Indited roads and rates that still increase; The murmuring poor, who will not fast in peace: Election zeal and friendship since declined, A tax commuted, or a tithe in kind; The Dutch and German? kindling into strife; Hull port and poachers vile!—the serious ills of life.