STEELE’S SATIRE.
On the other hand, there were men who sincerely mourned the queen’s death. These men were troubled in their walks by the revels at Charing Cross. There Young Man’s Coffee-house echoed with sounds of rejoicing. Some of the revellers had been recipients of the most liberal bounty of the queen, and did not care to conceal their ecstacy. Men circulated the good news as they rode in carriages which the queen had purchased for them. At Young Man’s might be seen an officer sharing in the unseemly joy, whose laced coat, hat and feather, were bought with the pay of the sovereign, whose arms were on his gorget. People who had been raised from the lowest degree of gentlemen to riches and honours, could not hide their gladness. And now, men read with diverse feeling a reprint, freshly and opportunely issued, of Steele’s famous letter in the ‘Reader,’ addressed to that awful metropolitan official, the Sword-bearer of the City Corporation. The writer reminded the dignitary that, as the Mayor, Walworth, had despatched the rebel Wat Tyler with a stroke of his dagger, so ‘is it expected of you,’ said Steele, ‘to cut off the Pretender with that great sword which you bear with so much calmness, which is always a sign of courage.’ ‘Let me tell you, Sir,’ adds Steele, with exquisite mock gravity, ‘in the present posture of affairs I think it seems to be expected of you; and I cannot but advise you, if he should offer to land here (indeed if he should so much as come up the river), to take the Water Bailiff with you, and cut off his head. I would not so much, if I were you, as tell him who I was, till I had done it. He is outlawed, and I stand to it, if the Water Bailiff is with you, and concurs, you may do it on the Thames; but, if he offers to land, it is out of all question, you may do it by virtue of your post, without waiting for orders. It is from this comfort and support that, in spite of what all the malcontents in the world can say, I have no manner of fear of the Pretender.’
IN PARLIAMENT.
There were, however, some who had hopes of that luckless prince, and who looked upon any other who should take the crown which they considered to be his, by divine right, as a wicked usurper. Accordingly, the Nonjuring Jacobites and High Church congregations sang their hymns, in their respective places of worship, to words which had a harmless ring, but which were really full of treason. One sample is as good as twenty,—and here it is!—
Confounded be those rebels all
That to usurpers bow,
And make what Gods and Kings they please,
And worship them below!
On the day the queen died, Parliament met to vote addresses to her successor. The Jacobite spirit was not entirely extinguished in either House. In spite of an attempt to obtain an adjournment in the Upper Chamber, the Lords carried an address, in which they said: ‘With faithful hearts we beseech your Majesty to give us your royal presence.’ In the Commons, Mr. Secretary Bromley moved an address so made up of grief expressed for Anne’s death, that Walpole demanded ‘something more substantial;’ and loyal members insisted that congratulations rather than condolence should abound in the address from the Commons. To both Houses the king intimated that he was hastening to satisfy their ‘affectionate urgences.’
POLITICAL AMENITIES.