‘At Greenwich,’ say the London papers, ‘the king and prince were pleased to expose themselves some time at the windows of their palace, to satisfy the impatient curiosity of all loving subjects.’ Among those who were ready to be so were Scottish chiefs with historical names. There had been no lack of homage to Queen Anne on the part of Scottish peers. The Master of Sinclair was a Jacobite, who had been in trouble in Queen Anne’s time. His neck was in peril, but the queen pardoned him. His history of the insurrection of ’15, in which he took part, is severely condemnatory of all the leaders, and especially of Mar. In the introductory portion of it, the Master sketches in equally censuring terms the Scottish peers in London, a little before Queen Anne’s death. ‘While at SCOTTISH HOMAGE. London,’ he says, ‘I had occasion to see the meanness of some of our Scots nobilitie who were of the sixteen, and who I heard complain grievously of the Treasurer’s cheating them, because he had gone out of town without letting them know, or giving them money as he had promised. I was told they wanted a hundred pound, or some such matter, to pay their debts, and carry them down to Scotland, and that they used to hang on at his levee like so many footmen. My God! how concerned I was to see those who pretended to be of the ancient Scots nobilitie reduced to beg at an English Court! And some of those, of which number was my Lord Kilsyth, were they who gave themselves the greatest airs in our affair,—so useful is impudence to impose on mankind!’—See ‘Memoirs of the Insurrection in Scotland in 1715,’ by John, Master of Sinclair, published by the Abbotsford Club, 1858, and reviewed in the ‘Athenæum,’ 31st December, 1859, by the able hand of the late Mr. Dilke.
In reference to the king’s arrival at Greenwich, Mr. Dilke says: ‘Queen Anne’s ministers had taken the chiefs into the direct pay of Government, at the rate of about 350l. a year each. The Highlanders were then as quiet as Lowlanders, and when King George landed at Greenwich, an address was ready for him, signed with all the great names that so soon after figured in the rebellion, by Macdonel of Glengarrie, Macdonald of the Isles, Mackenzie, Macklean, Macleod, Cameron of Lochiel, Mackintosh, Macpherson of Cluny, Chisholm, and others, offering loyal and faithful service to ‘a prince so highly adorned with all royal virtues, and expressing a hope that his Majesty’s royal and kindly influence would reach them even in their distant homes.’ His Majesty was not so advised; his kindly influence, that is, his money, did not reach them, and these poor people were driven to follow the standard of a little Mogul like Mar. Mar knew what would be influential, and in his Proclamation, though he called on them ‘by their faith, honour, allegiance, by their devotion and love, to join the standard of their king, he wisely concluded with the promise of a gratuity and regular pay.’
CLARET LOYALTY.
After the king and prince had set out on their journey from Greenwich to London, the impatient curiosity of all loving subjects in Greenwich was directed to another object. At eight o’clock precisely they were in crowds about the Ship, calling on the landlord, Thomas Sweetapple, to make good his promise, namely, that he would broach a hogshead of the finest French claret behind his house, and give thereof to all true loyalists, to drink his Majesty’s health. Mine host kept his word; but the liquor was out long before all true loyalists could taste of it. The unsatisfied drinkers were made as loyal to the Establishment as to the throne. One zealous Whig exclaimed, in proof of his zeal for the Protestant succession, ‘It’s true I never go to church, but d—n me if I don’t always stand up for her!’
THE ARTILLERY COMPANY.
For the royal entry into and through London every preparation had been made. Occasionally little difficulties presented themselves. For example, Captain Silk, whose office and principles may be guessed by his being described as ‘Muster Master, with others of his kidney,’ ventured to assert that the London Artillery Company had no right to appear officially at the royal passage through the City. The cannoneers, descendants of primitive heroic Cockneys, appealed to the proper authorities, and the appeal was allowed. Further, the Artillery Company had their little revenge. Captain Silk was prevented from even seeing the spectacle. The warlike company charged him with having drunk the health of the pretended James III. on his knees, while the song was sung of ‘The king shall have his own again!’ The captain was laid by the heels, and the artillery of London rejoiced at it. But ‘Captain Silk’s Jacobite Militia tune’ became a favourite with Tory musicians.
Among the advertisements which offered places to spectators along the whole line, from Greenwich to St. James’s, there was one which announced that ‘several senior gentlemen, with their own gray hairs,’ had resolved to ride before the king ‘in white camblet cloaks, on white horses.’ They advertised for volunteers, old and gray enough, who were assured that they ‘would be led up in the procession by persons of eminence and figure.’ It was subsequently reported that these ‘senior gentlemen, in their own gray hairs,’ applied too late to the Earl Marshal to have a place appointed for them in the procession, but that they would have seats in a gallery of their own at the east end of St. Paul’s. They would be presented, it was said, with lovely nosegays, to revive their spirits and refresh their memories, ‘which will be a fine orange stuck round with laurel—the former to put them in mind of the happy Revolution; the latter, of the glorious victories gained under the Duke of Marlborough in the late wars.’ The above is a specimen of the mild political wit of the day. Curious eyes looked at the gallery at the east end of St. Paul’s. They saw nothing of the seniors and their emblems, but others swore they were there, nevertheless, or why was the heroic Marlborough factiously hissed as he passed? At other points, the Church and King party had their revenge. The king and prince in their state coach might have been excused for wearing an air of surprise at the unusual huzzaing and clapping of hands of the gentlemen, and the ecstacy of the ladies in the balconies of the Three Tuns and Rummer tavern in the City. The applause was not for Great Brunswick but for the Earl of Sutherland. The people in the balcony remembered that in King William’s days, Lord Sutherland had been insulted in that very tavern. He had drunk King William’s health on his birthday, and the Jacobites present flourished their swords and vapoured about the Earl as if they would slay him and all Protestantism with him.
THE ROYAL ENTRY.
The stately line—and it was a right pompous affair—was a little cumbrous, but it was well kept together, from the kettle-drums and trumpeters, followed by hosts of officials, troops, coaches, &c., to the dragoons who snatched a drink from the people, as they brought up the rear. Perhaps the road about the east end of Pall Mall was the most joyous; for there the balconies and galleries were filled with people who had something to satisfy besides curiosity or loyalty, and who had been attracted thither by the promise that all the fronts of the balconies and galleries should have ‘broad flat tops large enough to hold plates and bottles.’ The spectators there were primed to any pitch of loyalty as his Majesty passed.
THE PLAYERS’ HOMAGE.