Three months later, on the 4th of December, 1718, after a prolonged audience with Philip V., who had treated him with his usual kindness, Alberoni suddenly received an order to leave Madrid within eight days, and Spain within three weeks. No entreaty would induce the king or queen to see him. The cardinal retired at first to Genoa, and then to Rome, where he passed the remainder of his life, in the peaceful enjoyment of an immense fortune. The country which he had oppressed, but reanimated and served, soon fell into its former lethargy. "The queen is possessed with a devil," said he, in his retirement; "if she finds a soldier who has any resources of mind, and is a good general, she will cause an uproar in Europe." The queen did not find a general, and on the 17th of January, 1720, the preliminaries of peace were signed at the Hague. The definitive articles were not agreed upon until the 13th of June, 1721. In the interval, thanks to the union with France, England was enabled to put an end to the war with Sweden and Denmark. King George gained the Duchies of Bremen and of Verden, for which he had long entertained pretensions. Peter the Great alone remained in arms. Europe had at last gained the repose which she was to enjoy for many years.
The war had not suspended parliamentary struggles. In 1718, upon a sincerely liberal proposition of Lord Stanhope, the Acts of Schism and of Occasional Conformity were repealed by the Houses. The ministers desired to go further and amend the Test Act, in order to place the Dissenters upon a footing of legitimate religious equality with the members of the Anglican Church.
The bishops were divided upon the question. "We have already had much trouble," said Lord Sunderland; "but if we touch the Test, all will be lost." Lord Stanhope desired to include the Catholics; the day of liberty and justice for them had not yet arrived.
King George had just returned to London, after a recent voyage into Germany, when a bold proposition was made in the House of Lords. The peers had not yet forgotten the numerous creations hazarded by the Earl of Oxford in order to assure a majority to the court; the character of the Prince of Wales offered few guarantees, and the foreign favorites were eager for honors and distinctions. The thought was conceived of limiting the number of peers by restraining the royal prerogative. The king made no objection. "His Majesty has so strong a desire to establish the peerage of the realm upon a basis which will assure forever the constitutional liberty of Parliament," said Lord Stanhope, "that he consents not to hinder this great work by the exercise of his prerogative."
The discussion was long, animated, and many times resumed; the good judgment of the nation finally prevailed over the rancors of the past, and over the jealousies of the future. Adopted by the Lords, the bill was rejected in the House of Commons by a large majority. "The road to the temple of fame formerly passed through the temple of virtue," said Walpole; "this bill makes it necessary to arrive at honor through the winding sheet of an old decrepid lord, or the grave of an extinct noble family." It is the sole happiness of England, and one of the sources of her grandeur, as well as of her security, to have maintained upon the ancient bases a force in the state constantly renewed and liberally recruited by personal merit.
This check to the ministry was important; but a greater shock, which was to overthrow it and overwhelm the country in ruin, was preparing. At the same time that Paris and France were a prey to the fever for wild speculations, excited by the system of Law, England, for other reasons and from other pretexts, suffered an analogous contagion, accompanied by the same fatal results. The South Sea Company had been founded in 1711, by Harley. In guarantee for the payment of the national debt, important privileges had then been accorded to him. In 1719 the directors of the company proposed to liquidate the public debt in twenty-six years, upon condition that the different claims were to be concentrated in their hands, and that they would be supplied with new privileges as well as great latitude in their negotiations. The Bank of England disputed with the South Sea Company the honor and supposed profit of this enterprise, which was put up at auction. A bill of Parliament assured the monopoly to the company, which had engaged to pay seven and a half million sterling. In order to sustain this enormous burden, the directors plunged into the wildest speculations. Walpole had predicted the fatal effects, but without measuring the criminal folly of the leaders, and the stupid avidity of the followers. The shares of the company increased from one hundred and thirty to a thousand pounds sterling; while new societies were formed for the working of the most insane industries. Raising the wrecks upon the coast of Ireland, the freshening of the waters of the sea, the fabrication of the oil of turnsole, the importation of donkeys from Spain, the fattening of pork, formed simultaneously the objects of fictitious speculations, suddenly arrested at the instigation of the South Sea Company, jealous and anxious to concentrate upon their enterprise all the energy of the stock-jobbers. Exchange Alley became the rival of Quincampoix street; the greatest lords, the most delicate ladies; ecclesiastics elbowed merchants and servants, all hurrying to secure for themselves the new stocks put in circulation, and the fabulous profits which were expected from them. The Prince of Wales himself consented to become a director of the company for the working of copper mines in Wales. The intervention of the ministry was necessary to threaten the company with prosecution, before his royal highness would consent to withdraw with a profit of £40,000.
The edifice of Law, in France, began to totter; the ruin of the fictitious companies in England soon involved all reasonable and legitimate speculations. In a few weeks the stock of the South Sea Company fell below three hundred pounds sterling; the suddenness of the catastrophe seriously involved the English speculators. Everywhere families were ruined, fortunes the most solid were shaken, and character and reputations were lost. "The very name of the South Sea Company became odious," says a contemporary. In vain was Walpole, who had recently retired to his country house at Houghton, recalled to London to seek a remedy for the evils which he had foreseen; but the ruin was beyond his efforts and power. Public anger and indignation knew no bounds. The king, who was in Hanover, returned precipitately, and Parliament was convoked for the 8th of December. "I avow," said Lord Molesworth, to the House of Commons, "that the ordinary laws do not reach the directors of the South Sea Company, but extraordinary crimes call aloud for extraordinary remedies. The Roman lawgivers had not foreseen the possible existence of a parricide; but as soon as the first monster appeared, he was sewed in a sack and cast headlong into the Tiber; and I shall be content to inflict the same treatment on the authors of our present ruin."
The calm good sense of Walpole, as well as his prudent foresight, powerfully advanced his ascendancy in Parliament. He succeeded in controlling the unchained passions. "If London was on fire, wise men would endeavor to extinguish the flames before they sought the incendiaries. We have a matter of still greater urgency: to save the public credit." Able and wise measures had been presented to Parliament, but public vengeance was not satisfied; a thorough inquiry ended in the discovery of grave evidences of corruption and bribery. The discussions became so violent that the doors of the House were closed and the keys placed upon the table. The German favorites of the king, the Duchess of Kendal and the Countess of Platen, the Lord Treasurer, the Earl of Sunderland and Mr. Aislabie the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and many other inferior officers of the government, were found to be seriously compromised. A parliamentary quarrel between Lords Wharton and Stanhope agitated the latter so violently that he had an apoplectic fit and died the next day, to the great regret of the public who had never doubted his honesty.