While the King was absent, a scene was opened in a remote part of his dominions, which had not been accustomed to figure on the theatre of politics. Ireland had for many years been profoundly obedient to the Government. The Roman Catholics were too much overbalanced by the power of the Protestants to be formidable: the latter were too certain on any change of Government, to meet with no quarter from the professors of a religion, by whose plunder they were enriched, not to be inflexibly attached to the Prince on the Throne. Yet the insolence or wantonness of two men, new to power, contrived in a minute to throw that kingdom into a flame, and to create factions, who soon imbibed all the inveteracy of party, except disaffection. The internal councils of Ireland were chiefly guided by Mr. Boyle, the Speaker of the House of Commons, and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and during the absence of the Lord-Lieutenants, one of the Lords Justices. He was vain and popular, and as the idols of the people and of themselves generally are, a man of moderate capacity. It had been the unvaried practice of the Lord-Lieutenants to court this man, and to govern the House of Commons by his interest: the steadiness of his principles was unquestionable. Lord Harrington, the last Governor, had been much disliked, but conforming himself to this maxim, some discontented persons[218] had in vain attempted to give disturbance to the King’s affairs.
He was succeeded by the Duke of Dorset, who was a man of dignity, caution, and plausibility, and who had formerly ruled Ireland to their universal satisfaction. But he then acted from himself; he was now in the hands of two men most unlike himself, his youngest son, Lord George Sackville, and Dr. George Stone, the Primate of Ireland. The former, a man of very sound parts, of distinguished bravery, and of as honourable eloquence, but hot, haughty, ambitious, obstinate. The Primate, a man of fair appearance, of not inferior parts, more insinuating, but by no means less ambitious, had with no pretensions in the world, but by being attached to the house of Dorset, and by being brother of Mr. Stone, been hurried through two or three Irish Bishopricks up to the very Primacy of the kingdom, not only unwarrantably young, but without even the graver excuses of learning or sanctimony. Instead of attempting to conciliate the affections of a nation offended at his promotion, he thought of nothing but governing by the same influence by which he had been raised. Lord George, as little disposed to be controlled, would not stoop to the usual management for Mr. Boyle; and he was not likely to be persuaded to observe any attentions by the Primate, who had shaken them off himself. The Speaker, who had not lost his taste for power by being accustomed to it, was soon alarmed, and had an opportunity of revenge offered to him almost as soon as the offence.
The Duke of Dorset had recommended to the Parliament to provide more barracks for the soldiers, and to inquire into the late abuses of the money destined to that service. This was obliquely aimed at Lord Harrington, and intended, by casting odium on his Administration, to heighten the popularity of the new Lord-Lieutenant; but it had different and much further consequences than the junto had foreseen. The money was voted; but the Parliament, in prosecution of abuses, fell upon one Neville Jones, a creature of the Primate, and determined to express their aversion to that Prelate, by sacrificing his tool. When it is told that, till the era in question, no Opposition had been able to unite above eight-and-twenty voices in the Irish House of Commons against the Government, it will appear surprising that the contagion of new discontents should in a few weeks have infected even the majority there. Faction is as capricious as Fortune: wrongs, oppression, the zeal of real patriots, or the genius of false ones, may sometimes be employed for years in kindling substantial opposition to authority; in other seasons, the impulse of a moment, a ballad, a nickname, a fashion can throw a city into a tumult, and shake the foundations of a state. Spain, which surely must sometimes produce some heroic, some patriot natures, has groaned for centuries under tyranny and the Inquisition: the poor fisherboy of Naples, Massaniello, could, in the space of two days, set at defiance, overturn, a haughty, an armed, an established Government. It is certain that no innovation, no unwonted exertion of power, had provoked the Irish: but they thought themselves contemned: they saw the channel of power totally diverted from the natives: the indiscretion of the rulers presented a colour to the keenest invectives that a faction could wish to employ.
The Speaker furnished himself as chief to the faction; but they had wiser heads to direct both them and their chief. Of these were, Carter, the Master of the Rolls, Sir Richard Cox, and Malone. Carter had always been a Whig, but had as constantly fomented every discontent against the Lord-Lieutenants, in order to be bought off: an able, intriguing man, of slender reputation for integrity. Sir Richard Cox was a patriot, and the first deviser of the linen manufactures, which have been of such essential service to his country. He and Malone were distinguished orators, and had both been gained by Lord Harrington, but were neglected by the new Court at the Castle. Malone’s family were Popish, and his own conversion suspected. But the Speaker was for some time the only ostensible idol of the party’s adoration: to a confessed integrity and loyalty he united a romantic readiness for single combat, so much to the taste of his countrymen. The Castle were desirous of raising Mr. Ponsonby, a son of Lord Besborough, and son-in-law of the Duke of Devonshire, to the chair. The Parliament of Ireland, unless specially dissolved, sits during a whole reign, and the Speaker’s dignity is of the same duration. Lord George’s measures were apt to be abrupt: he directly offered the Speaker a Peerage and a pension of 1500l. a year. The Speaker replied, “If I had a Peerage, I should not think myself greater than now that I am Mr. Boyle: for t’other thing, I despise it as much as the person who offers it.” This, and some indirect threats equally miscarrying, and the Castle finding that their creature Jones must be the first victim, endeavoured to defer what they could not prevent. The Speaker’s party moved for a call of the House for that day three weeks; Lord George Sackville moved to have it that day six weeks—and was beat! Whoever[219] has seen the tide first turn in favour of an Opposition, may judge of the riotous triumphs occasioned by this victory. The ladies made balls, the mob bonfires, the poets pasquinades—if Pasquin has seen wittier, he himself never saw more severe or less delicate lampoons. The Address that was soon after sent over to the King, applied directly to him, and not as was usual to the Lord-Lieutenant; and they told his Majesty, in plain terms, that it was from apprehension of being misrepresented. This was an unpleasant potion for the Duke of Dorset to swallow—but we must adjourn the further account of these dissensions to their proper place in order of time, and proceed to open a new scene of division at home, in which one of the principal actors was intimately connected with the Court-faction in Ireland.
In the former part of these Memoirs, it has been mentioned, that the young Prince of Wales, on the death of his father, was placed by the King under the care of the Earl of Harcourt, as Governor; of Dr. Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, as Preceptor; and of Mr. Stone and Mr. Scott, as Sub-governor and Sub-preceptor. The two former were favourites of Lord Lincoln, the ministerial nephew: Stone was the bosom-confidant of the Duke of Newcastle: Scott, as well as the Solicitor-General, Murray, and Cresset, the favourite of the Princess, were disciples of Lord Bolingbroke, and his bequest to the late Prince. Stone, in general a cold, mysterious man, of little plausibility, had always confined his arts, his application, and probably his views, to one or two great objects. The Princess could answer to all these lights: with her, he soon ingratiated himself deeply. Lord Harcourt was minute and strict in trifles; and thinking that he discharged his trust conscientiously, if on no account he neglected to make the Prince turn out his toes, he gave himself little trouble to respect the Princess, or to condescend to the Sub-governor. The Bishop, thinking himself already Minister to the future King, expected dependence from, never once thought of depending upon, the inferior Governors. In the education of the two Princes, he was sincerely honest and zealous; and soon grew to thwart the Princess, whenever, as an indulgent, or perhaps a little as an ambitious mother, (and this happened but too frequently), she was willing to relax the application of her sons. These jars appeared soon after the King’s going to Hanover: and by the season of his return, they were ripe for his interposition.
The English Court at Rome was as little free from intestine divisions as the Hanoverian Court at London. The Cardinal of York, whose devotion preserved him from disobedience to his father as little as his Princely character had preserved him from devotion, had entirely abandoned himself to the government of an Abbé, who soon grew displeasing to the old Pretender. Commands, remonstrances, requests, had no effect on the obstinacy of the young Cardinal. The father, whose genius never veered towards compliance, insisted on the dismission of the Abbé. Instead of parting with his favourite, the young Cardinal with his minion left Rome abruptly, and with little regard to the dignity of his Purple. The Holy See, which was sunk to having few more important negotiations to manage, interested itself in the reconciliation, and the haughty young Eminence of York was induced to return to his father, but without being obliged to sacrifice his Abbé. As I shall not often have occasion to mention this imaginary Court, I will here give a cursory picture of it.
The Chevalier de St. George is tall, meagre, melancholy in his aspect. Enthusiasm and disappointment have stamped a solemnity on his person, which rather creates pity than respect: he seems the phantom, which good-nature, divested of reflection, conjures up, when we think on the misfortunes, without the demerits, of Charles the First. Without the particular features of any Stuart, the Chevalier has the strong lines and fatality of air peculiar to them all. From the first moment I saw him, I never doubted the legitimacy of his birth—a belief not likely to occasion any scruples in one whose principles directly tend to approve dethroning the most genuine Prince, whose religion, and whose maxims of government are incompatible with the liberty of his country.
He never gave the world very favourable impressions of him: in Scotland, his behaviour was far from heroic. At Rome, where, to be a good Roman-catholic, it is by no means necessary to be very religious, they have little esteem for him: it is not at home that they are fond of martyrs and confessors. But it was his ill-treatment of the Princess Sobieski, his wife, that originally disgusted the Papal Court. She, who to zeal for Popery, had united all its policy, who was lively, insinuating, agreeable, and enterprising, was fervently supported by that Court, when she could no longer endure the mortifications that were offered to her by Hay and his wife, the titular Counts of Inverness, to whom the Chevalier had entirely resigned himself. The Pretender retired to Bologna, but was obliged to sacrifice his favourites, before he could re-establish himself at Rome. His next Prime Minister was Murray, nominal Earl of Dunbar, brother of the Viscount Stormont, and of the celebrated Solicitor-General. He was a man of artful abilities, graceful in his person and manner, and very attentive to please. He had distinguished himself before he was of age, in the last Parliament of Queen Anne, and chose to attach himself to the unsuccessful party abroad, and for whose re-establishment he had co-operated. He was, when still very young, appointed Governor to the young Princes, but growing suspected by the warm Jacobites of some correspondence with Sir Robert Walpole, and not entering into the favourite project of Prince Charles’s expedition to Scotland, he thought fit to leave that Court, and retire to Avignon, where, while he was regarded as lukewarm to the cause, from his connexion with the Solicitor-General here, the latter was not at all less suspected of devotion to a Court where his brother had so long been First Minister.
The characters of the Pretender’s sons are hitherto imperfectly known; yet both have sufficiently worn the characteristics of the house of Stuart—bigotry and obstinacy and want of judgment. The eldest set out with a resolution of being very resolute, but it soon terminated in his being only wrong-headed.
The most apparent merit of the Chevalier’s Court is the great regularity of his finances, and the economy of his exchequer. His income before the Rebellion was about 23,000l. a year, arising chiefly from pensions from the Pope and from Spain, from contributions from England, and some irregular donations from other Courts. Yet his payments were not only most exact, but he had saved a large sum of money, which was squandered on the unfortunate attempt in Scotland. Besides the loss of a Crown, to which he thought he had a just title, besides a series of disappointments from his birth, besides that mortifying rotation of friends, to which his situation has constantly exposed him, as often as faction and piques and baffled ambition have driven the great men of England to apply to or desert his forlorn hopes, he has, in the latter part of his life, seen his own little Court and his parental affections torn to pieces, and tortured by the seeds of faction, sown by that master-hand of sedition, the famous Bolingbroke, who insinuated into their councils a project for the Chevalier’s resigning his pretensions to his eldest son, as more likely to conciliate the affections of the English to his family. The father, and the ancient Jacobites, never could be induced to relish this scheme. The boy and his adherents embraced it as eagerly as if the father had really a Crown to resign. Slender as their Cabinet was, these parties divided it; and when I was at Rome, Lord Winton was a patriot at that Court, and the ragged type of a minority, which was comprehended in his single person.