Conflicting reports flew about, but the discouragement was not very profound, and the birthday drawing-room, on the 30th of October, was as gay and brilliant as if there were no rebellion afoot. The reverend writer of the letter quoted above was present, and he describes to Mrs. Harris the silks of the princesses, the brocades and damasks of the ladies, and the blaze of Lady Cardigan, who excelled as to jewels, having on a magnificent solitaire, and her stomacher all over diamonds. There, too, fluttered the Prince of Wales in light blue velvet and silver; the Duke of Cumberland strolled about with a little more gold lace than usual on his scarlet uniform; and Lord Kildare outdid all other fine and loyal gentlemen present, ‘in a light blue silk coat, embroidered all over with gold and silver, in a very curious manner, turned up with white satin, embroidered as the other; the waistcoat the same as his sleeves.’ But the grandest and quaintest figure there was the Venetian ambassadress, who had gone in state from Frith Street, Soho, to the intense delight of the ‘mob.’ This lady ‘drew most people’s attention by somewhat of singularity both in her air and dress, which was pink, all flounced from top to bottom, with fringe of silver interspersed. She looks extremely young, has the French sort of behaviour, and was much taken notice of and spoke to by all the Royal Family in the Circle.’ The most soberly-dressed man there was the king himself. He wore a deep blue cloth coat and waistcoat trimmed with silver, and was as good humoured and gracious as if Johnny Cope was carrying all before him in the north.
THE KING’S SPEECH TO THE GUARDS.
The regiments which arrived in London, in November, from Fontenoy, kept the metropolis in some commotion, till they were pushed forward, after brief rest, to the midland counties. While they were receiving tents and arms at the Tower, the Duke of Cumberland had his headquarters at St. James’s, whence orders were issued (says Mr. Maclachlan—‘Order Book of the Duke of Cumberland’) of the most minute character and detail.
The king has been accused of indifference to passing events, and of having only reluctantly allowed the Duke of Cumberland, who served so nobly with him at Dettingen, to command the army against the young Chevalier. Perhaps, what seemed indifference was confidence in the result. There is evidence, however, that he was not without anxiety at this critical juncture. In Hamilton’s ‘History of the Grenadier Guards,’ there is the following description of a scene at St. James’s, quoted from Wraxall. The incident described is said to have occurred at the military levee held by the king, previous to the Guards marching to the north: ‘When the officers of the Guards were assembled, the king is said to have addressed them as follows: “Gentlemen, you cannot be ignorant of the present precarious situation of our country, and though I have had so many recent instances of your exertions, the necessities of the times and the knowledge I have of your hearts, induce me to demand your service again; so all of you that are willing to meet the rebels hold up your right hand; all those who may, from particular reasons, find it inconvenient, hold up your left.” In an instant, all the right hands in the room were held up, which so affected the king, that in attempting to thank the company, his feelings overpowered him; he burst into tears and retired.’
ASPECTS OF SOCIETY.
While this scene was being acted at St. James’s, Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu, then residing in Dover Street, wrote to Dr. Freind: ‘People of the greatest rank here have been endeavouring to make the utmost advantage of the unhappy state of their country, and have sold the assistance it was their duty to give. Self-interest has taken such firm possession of every breast, that not any threatening calamity can banish it in the smallest instance. There is no view of the affair more melancholy than this.... Everything is turned to a job, and money given for the general good is converted too much to private uses.... There were some exceptions. Almost all our nobility,’ she writes, ‘are gone to the army, so that many of the great families are in tears, and indeed it makes the town appear melancholy and dismal.’ There were exceptions in this case. ‘Let it be said, to the honour of our sex, there are no dramas, no operas, and plays are unfrequented; and there is not a woman in England, except Lady Brown, that has a song or tune in her head; but indeed her ladyship is very unhappy at the suspension of operas.’ On the night this letter was written, Mrs. Clive’s Portia, at Drury Lane, was unattractive, in spite of her imitations of eminent lawyers, in the trial scene; and Mrs. Pritchard’s Lappet was equally unavailing to bring the public to witness ‘The Miser,’ at Covent Garden. But Rich’s three nights of the ‘Beggars’ Opera,’ for the benefit of the patriotic fund, produced happy results. From Mrs. Cibber down to the candle-snuffers, all sacrificed their pay with alacrity.
FRENCH NEWS OF LONDON.
As correct news of the condition of London in the latter half of the year, it was stated in the French papers that insurrectionary undertakings prevailed; that the principal shops were closed; that suspected peers were under arrest; that an attempt had been made to murder the Archbishop of Canterbury, and that the Tower had been captured by a Jacobite mob, who had liberated nearly three hundred prisoners! Every quidnunc in Paris turned to the article ‘London’ in the ‘Gazette de France,’ to read with avidity of the closing of great firms, the breaking of the chief banks, and the bewilderment of the king on his reaching the capital from Hanover. The ‘Gazette’ had no doubt of the crowning of James Stuart in Westminster Abbey during the Christmas holidays; and, perhaps, hoped for the appearance of ‘the Elector of Hanover’ on Tower Hill!
ANXIETY AND CONFIDENCE.
On Friday, the 5th December 1745, it is undeniable that London was shaken into terror and consternation by the news of the arrival of Charles Edward on the Wednesday at Derby. It was long remembered as ‘Black Friday.’ ‘Many of the inhabitants,’ says the Chevalier de Johnstone, in his ‘Memoirs of the Rebellion,’ ‘fled to the country with their most precious effects, and all the shops were shut. People thronged to the Bank to get payment of its notes; and it only escaped bankruptcy by a stratagem. Payment was not indeed refused; but as they who came first were entitled to priority of payment, the bank took care to be continually surrounded by agents with notes, who were paid in sixpences in order to gain time. Those agents went out at one door with the specie they had received, and brought it back by another; so that the bonâ fide holders of notes could never get near enough to present them, and the bank by this artifice preserved its credit, and literally faced its creditors.’