The Convention of Madrid, which ended with the close of the year 1738, had excited great discontent among the English merchants. The wise endeavors of the minister for the maintenance of peace with Spain were regarded as cowardice. Sixty members of the opposition, with Wyndham at their head, had declared their resolve of no longer taking part in the deliberations of a corrupt Parliament. The government majority grew smaller daily. Walpole, always obstinately attached to power, determined to bend before the storm and to lend his aid to a war which he deplored, and the result of which he doubted. On the 19th of October, 1739, as the city bells were sounding with all their peals in honor of the declaration of war, "Ring the cords of all your bells to-day," muttered Walpole; "it will not be long before you are wringing your hands."

The prudent sagacity and experience of Walpole had not deceived him. England entered upon a restless and stormy period, the beginnings of which were not happy. The first expeditions had been directed against the Spanish colonies of South America. By dint of courage and address, Commodore Anson, who was charged with the attack on Peru, opposed by wind and tide, succeeded in saving only one of his ships, with which he accomplished the tour of the world, whilst Admiral Vernon, at first victorious before Porto-Bello, and lauded to the skies by the opposition, to which party he belonged, failed sadly before Cartagena and Santiago. The patriots attributed the checks suffered by English armies to Walpole. "For nearly twenty years he has demonstrated that he possesses neither wisdom nor prudence," exclaimed Lord Carteret; "there is still left him a little of the cunning common to Smithfield cattle-dealers or to French valets under indulgent masters; but his whole conduct proves that he has no true sagacity. Our allies know and deplore it; our foes know it and are glad of it." Yet once again, Walpole triumphed in the Houses; his strength was being spent in repeated struggles.

Parliament had just been dissolved; the electoral prospects were threatening. Europe was agitated by the gravest anxieties. The Emperor Charles VI. had just died, on the 20th of October, 1740. All the powers had agreed to the Pragmatic Sanction, which assured the rights of the Archduchess Maria-Theresa. Scarcely had her father been laid in the grave, than the majority of the great sovereigns were already dividing the spoils. The competitors were numerous and their titles were various. The young Queen of Hungary found opposed to her a rival and an enemy. The elector of Bavaria reclaimed the domains of the House of Austria by virtue of a will of Ferdinand I., father of Charles V. He was supported by France, despite the peaceful inclinations of Cardinal Fleury, grown old, and instigated by the Marshal Belle-Isle. Spain laid claim to the sovereignty of Hungary and of Bohemia, which had long been dependants of her crown. She united her forces with those of France and Bavaria against Maria-Theresa. The new King of Prussia, Frederick II., on obsolete or imaginary rights, marched boldly to the conquests of which he was ambitious. From the time when he came to the throne, in the month of August, 1740, preceded by the reputation for a cultivated and liberal mind, and amenable to generous sentiments, Frederick, who had long been kept away from state affairs by the brutal jealousy of his father, had been silently preparing his means of attack. On leaving a masqued ball, he had set out post haste for the Silesian frontier, where he had collected thirty thousand troops. Without preliminary notice, without a declaration of war, he entered the Austrian territory, which was inadequately or badly defended. Before the end of January, 1741, he was master of Silesia. At his departure, Frederick had said to the French ambassador: "I believe I am going to play your game; if the aces come to me we will divide."

England was excited by the war. King George II. was more excited than England. Hanover was menaced; he crossed to Germany to raise troops. A subsidy was voted in favor of the Queen of Hungary; certain English envoys arrived at the camp of the belligerents. Lord Hyndford sought to excite some generous scruples in the mind of Frederick. "Do not speak to me of magnanimity, my lord," exclaimed the king; "a prince should consult only his interest. I have no objection to peace, but I require four duchies, and I will have them." The proposals transmitted by Mr. Robinson in the name of the Queen of Hungary seemed hard to that princess. "I hope, with all my heart, that he will reject them," she had said, with tears in her eyes. "Always subterfuges," exclaimed Frederick; "if you have nothing to say to me in regard to Silesia, negotiations are useless. My ancestors would rise out of their tombs to reproach me with the abandonment of their just rights."

France had concluded an alliance with the King of Prussia, assuring him the possession of lower Silesia. Marshal Maillebois was closely pressing Hanover; King George II. was alarmed, and signed a treaty of neutrality for one year, engaging not to furnish any assistance to the Queen of Hungary and to refrain from voting as elector for her husband, Francis of Lorraine, who aspired to the imperial dignity. On the 26th of November, 1741, the Elector of Bavaria was proclaimed King of Bohemia. On the 14th of February, 1742, he was crowned emperor, under the name of Charles VII. The allied armies had menaced Vienna, and Queen Maria-Theresa, flying from town to town before her triumphant enemies, had only found refuge and support in Hungary, amid the palatines and magnates assembled at Presbourg. Moriamur pro rege nostro, Maria-Theresa! they had shouted, with a unanimous voice, drawing their swords. All the horrors of war were desolating Germany. Everywhere irregular troops scoured the country, pillaging, massacring, burning. The hereditary domains of the new emperor were in turn menaced. "He remains at Frankfort," wrote the lawyer Barbier, in his journal, "and it would be difficult for him to go elsewhere safely."

The neutrality of Hanover had been received in England with anger; public feeling had been against the minister since the opening of the session, and a contested election brought the fact to light. The most devoted friends of Walpole pressed him to resign. He still hesitated, being passionately attached, after twenty years of its exercise, to that power which he had obstinately defended against so many enemies. He decided, at last, renouncing together with authority, the thorough dominance which he had so long maintained in the House of Commons. He received from the king every pledge of affection and of the most sincere regret, and the title of Earl of Orford. Some months later, Pulteney, in his turn, was elevated to the House of Lords, under the name of Lord Bath. Walpole, still influential with George II., had contributed with all his power to this annihilatory elevation. He approached his ancient antagonist with a smile. "Well, my lord," said he, "behold us become the two most insignificant personages in England."

Walpole did not long survive his downfall. In spite of his withdrawal to Houghton, he never became, because he could not be, insignificant. He had governed for twenty years with consummate skill, employing indifferently good and evil means, oratorical eloquence as well as parliamentary corruption; anxious to serve his friends rather than to conciliate his enemies, without ever giving to his country the pleasure of glory or the spectacle of political and moral greatness; contributing nevertheless to the happiness and prosperity of England by assuring to her, in the midst of serious external and internal troubles, long years of peace. His great rival in the art of governance was already rising to view; and amid the ranks of the patriot Whigs observing foresight had distinguished young William Pitt, destined to rule, as a master, the country and the Parliament that Walpole, like a skilful pilot, had long guided. "Between Sir Robert Walpole and Lord Chatham," as Lord Macaulay has wittily remarked, "there was all the distance between success and glory."