The elections of 1713 were not favorable to the ministry; the country was uneasy and suspicious; the cabinet was divided. The perfidious ability and moderation of the Earl of Oxford were opposed to the bold ambition of Bolingbroke, and that marvellous eloquence, the memory of which remained so powerful among his contemporaries and successors, that Pitt, when asked what he would prefer to recover from the shades of the past, replied: "One of the lost decades of Titus Livius, and a speech of Bolingbroke."
The secret rivalries suspected by public opinion, and the violence of party struggles, manifested themselves upon all sides, through the press, now almost absolutely free from restraint, and directed during the reign of Anne by men of great talents, nearly all of whom were engaged in the political contests. Addison and Steele were members of the House of Commons, and also at the same time, publishers of The Spectator. Addison had even occupied a place in the Whig ministry. Swift, the intimate friend of Harley and Bolingbroke, employed in the defence of their policy all his bitter and sarcastic wit, without, however, being able to obtain—owing to the legitimate repugnance of the queen—the ecclesiastical preferments which he desired.
Defoe arduously defended the principles of the revolution of 1688, in brilliant pamphlets whose renown, for a time, exceeded the popularity of his Robinson Crusoe. The poet Prior was actively employed in diplomatic negotiations by Bolingbroke. Isaac Newton alone withdrew from politics, after having taken an unimportant part, and thenceforth consecrated his life to the study of the laws of nature. Pope, however, took no part in the struggles of the day, but devoted himself purely to literature.
The intrigues increased and multiplied in all directions. The Earl of Oxford hesitated between the Stuarts and the Protestant succession, but was disposed to rely upon the Duke of Marlborough, who courted his favor. Bolingbroke was resolved to supplant the prime minister, and was at the same time imprudently engaged in the Jacobite plots. The Queen was ill, and low-spirited; she may even have felt remorse and doubts. The ecclesiastical advancements had been of a character favorable to the fallen house. The Dean of Christ Church, Francis Atterbury, able, restless, and an enthusiastic Jacobite, was appointed Bishop of Rochester. It was in accord with him that Bolingbroke, the notorious sceptic and libertine, presented to Parliament an act of schism, forbidding the right to teach to all persons who had not accepted the test and furnished proof that they had partaken of the communion within a year. "I am agreeably surprised that some men of pleasure are, on a sudden, become so religious as to set up for patrons of the Church," said Lord Wharton. The bill was passed, but was never enforced.
The Church of England had for some time been urging the Pretender to return to her bosom, and had even flattered herself that she would succeed in the illustrious conquest. The illusions and imprudence of the Jacobites were increasing: they began to speak openly of a restoration. The majority in Parliament, as well as in the country, remained firmly attached, nevertheless, to the Protestant succession. The nation was anxious and disturbed. On the 12th of April, 1714, the Hanoverian minister, Baron Schutz, who had come to an understanding with the chief of the Whigs, called upon the Chancellor, Sir Simon, afterwards Lord Harcourt, and demanded of him, in the name of the Elcctress Sophia, the summons for her son, the elector, to the House of Lords, in his quality as Duke of Cambridge. The queen, being at once consulted, peremptorily and angrily refused. Schutz was obliged to leave London. Anne wrote personally to the electress absolutely forbidding the prince, her son, to set foot on English soil. Some days later, on the 28th of May, 1714, the prince became the heir presumptive to the crown of England by the death of his mother. "I would die happy if there could be written upon my coffin: Here lies Sophia, Queen of England," said the electress.
Upon the advice of the House of Lords, alarmed at the ardor of the Jacobites, the queen consented to issue a proclamation offering a reward of £5,000 to any one who would arrest the Pretender if he should set foot upon the soil of England. The peers were preparing to vote an address of thanks, when Bolingbroke entered the house; he was taken unawares. "The best measure of defence for the Protestant succession," said he, "would be to arraign for high treason all who are enrolled in the service of the Pretender." They took him at his word, and the house placed him at the head of the committee appointed to draw up the bill. "Neither the proclamation nor the bill will do us any harm," said Bolingbroke to the French envoy, D'Iberville. He had undertaken, with the Duke of Ormond, to reorganize the army in the interests of Marlborough, with the ultimate view of delivering it into the hands of the Jacobites. By one of those deliberate calculations, which often resemble a ruse, the Lord Treasurer did not furnish the necessary funds in time. Oxford had lost the confidence of the queen; he had quarrelled with Lady Masham. "You have never rendered her Majesty a service, and you are not now in a position to render her one," angrily said the favorite. Oxford did not reply; he clung tenaciously to the remnants of his power. "The least indisposition of the queen causes us great alarm," wrote Swift; "when she recovers, we act as if she was immortal."
On the 27th of July, after a stormy interview with the queen, and surrounded by his most desperate enemies, Lord Oxford delivered the white rod into the hands of her Majesty. It was publicly rumored, and the Duke of Berwick affirms it in his Memoirs, that the Court of St. Germain had insisted upon the dismissal of the minister. "Come and see me," wrote Oxford to Swift, on the day following; "if I have not, at other times, wearied you, hasten to one who loves you. I believe that in the mass of souls ours were made for each other. I send you an imitation of Dryden, which occurred to me on my way to Kensington: To wear out with love, and to shed one's blood is approved of on high; but here below examples prove that to be an honest man, brings misfortune."