[226] In the late King’s reign, on the difference between his Majesty and the Prince.
[227] He had been one of the Masters of Westminster School.
[228] The Duke of Marlborough and the Archbishop.
[CHAPTER XI.]
Seizure of Dr. Archibald Cameron, an emissary of the Pretender—The King of France and his Mistresses—The famous Marriage Bill—Charles Townshend and Henry Conway—Debates on the Marriage Bill in the House of Commons—Ralph the Author—Debates on the Marriage Bill in the Lords—Dissensions caused by it—The Duke of Newcastle’s Conversations with Mr. Fox—Execution of Dr. Cameron—Continuation of the troubles in Ireland—Seats in Parliament offered to Government—The Jew Bill—Death of Mr. Pelham.
About this time was taken in Scotland, Dr. Archibald Cameron, a man excepted by the Act of Indemnity. Intelligence had been received some time before of his intended journey to Britain, with a commission from Prussia to offer arms to the disaffected Highlanders, at the same time that ships were hiring in the north to transport men. The fairness of Dr. Cameron’s character, compared with the severity he met from a Government, most laudably mild to its enemies, confirmed this report. That Prussia, who opened its inhospitable arms to every British Rebel, should have tampered in such a business was by no means improbable. That King hated his uncle—but could a Protestant Potentate dip in designs for restoring a Popish Government?—of what religion is policy? to what sect is royal revenge bigoted? The Queen-dowager, though sister of our King, was avowedly a Jacobite, by principle so—and it was natural: what Prince but the single one who profits by the principle can ever think it allowable to overturn sacred hereditary right? It is the cause of sovereigns that their crimes should be unpunishable. Two sloops were stationed to watch; yet Cameron landed; and was taken with difficulty: an officer and ten men pursued him: they divided—yet wherever they turned, they found children posted, who ran swiftly and screamed to give notice. At last they overtook a boy who had hurt his foot; and by him were directed to a house in a wood; yet the Doctor was gone; but, on the wood being surrounded, was taken.
By the very loyal, consequences equally threatening were feared from a new amour of the King of France, who had taken a mistress of Irish extraction, the daughter of a shoemaker, formerly a life-guardsman: her name, Murphy, and of signal beauty. Madame Pompadour was a friend to peace and England. This deviation in the Monarch’s constancy was, however, of transitory duration. With scarce complaisance, with no affection, he had for many years confined himself to his homely, elderly, unattractive queen. All the intrigues of a gallant Court, or of interested factions, had not been able to undermine his conjugal regularity, for it was no more. Accident threw him into the arms of Madame de Mailly, a sensible woman, a fine figure, but very plain; he demanded not beauty, and became as regular as with the Queen. To engage him more, that is, to govern him, Madame de Mailly associated to their suppers her sister, Madame de Vintimille, a woman of great wit, but exceedingly ill-proportioned with beauty—a great oversight in an ugly woman, who had dispossessed an ugly one. The coadjutrix soon displaced her introductress; but died in labour; of poison, as the state of intrigues would of course suppose. The Monarch hankered about the same family, and took a third sister, who was gloriously beautiful, and whom he created Duchesse de Chateauroux. In the triumph of her concubinage, the King fell ill at Metz. Fitz-James, Bishop of Soissons, attacked a frightened piety, which was natural, and only subdued by constitution. The mistress was not only discarded, but publicly affronted, the Monarch permitting it; and the Queen, who was sent for, made a foolish triumphal entry to thank the Lord for the recovery of the King’s soul and body—but as soon as the latter was re-established, the Queen was sent to her prayers, the Bishop to his diocese, and the Duchess was recalled—but died suddenly. Though a jealous sister may be supposed to dispatch a rival, can one believe that Bishops and Confessors poison?
Madame Pompadour, the wife of a Fermier General, succeeded: grace, beauty, address, art, ambition, all met in that charming woman. She governed him more than he had ever been governed but by Cardinal Fleury: she engaged in all politics, she gave life and agreeableness to all; she amassed vast treasures herself, she was the cause of squandering vast treasures, in varying scenes of pleasure to divert the gloom of a temper which was verging nearer to the age of devotion. The Clergy hated her, for she countenanced the Parliament; the people imputed oppressions to her; the Dauphin, who was a bigot, and who loved his mother, affected to shock her: yet the King, who was the best father in the world, bore with great mildness so unpleasant an attack on royal and parental authority.