CHAPTER VIII.
Family of Lord Bute.—Death of Archbishop Secker.—Trial of a Soldier for Murder in a Riot.—Arrival of Christian the Seventh of Denmark.—Removal of Sir Jeffery Amherst from Virginia.—Contemplated Disgrace of Lord Shelburne.—Resignation of Lord Chatham.—Lord Rochford made Secretary of State.—Privy Seal given to Lord Bristol.—State of the Country.—Meeting of Parliament.—Meditated Expulsion of Wilkes.
1768.
On the 2nd of August, the favourite Earl of Bute, whom foolish conduct, and the odium attending it, had thrown into a real, imaginary, or pretended ill state of health, set out for the waters of Barege. His mortifications were, in truth, sufficient to break a firmer spirit; nor had his fortune or wealth contributed but to his unhappiness, his domestic griefs being as poignant as his unpopularity. His eldest daughter, an amiable woman, was wedded to Sir James Lowther. His third daughter, whom the Northumberlands had obtained for their son, was discontent with her husband, and was confined by his family to the country under pretence of a gallant disposition, though the world suspected that the fall of her father had made the Duke and Duchess wish to get rid of the daughter. Lord Bute’s second son, the heir of his mother’s vast riches, had married ill, grew to hate his wife for having drawn him into marriage, and would not live with her, though his father forgave her, and solicited their reconciliation. It was perhaps not the least of the Earl’s sorrows, that though, by the interest of the Princess, Lord Bute and his Cabal retained the chief power in the secret counsels, the King was not sorry to be delivered from the thraldom in which the Earl had held him:—at least, it was known that his Majesty dreaded of being suspected of retaining too great partiality to the Favourite, though he had resolution enough to avow or discountenance him entirely.
On the 3rd died Secker, Archbishop of Canterbury, whose character I have given at large before. His early life had shown his versatility; his latter time, his ambition; but hypocrisy not being parts, he rose in the Church without ever making a figure in the State.[124] Dr. Frederic Cornwallis, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, a prelate of inconsiderable talents, but a most amiable, gentle, and humane man,[125] was preferred to the primacy by the Duke of Grafton, who had a friendship for the Bishop’s nephew, Earl Cornwallis. Terrick of London, the most time-serving of the clergy, was sorely disappointed in missing the first mitre of England.
On the 9th came on at Guilford the trial of a soldier for the murder of young Allen, in St. George’s Fields. Wilkes, impatient to signalize himself, and by his presence to excite a tumult, procured to be subpœnaed as a witness; though it was notorious that, being in prison at the time, he could have distinguished nothing from his window. The real murderer had been conveyed away by the Government, and the man tried not being the true criminal, was acquitted. No bill was found against the commanding officer of the party; and Wilkes returned to his gaol without having occasioned any disturbance.
In the midst of these disorders arrived Christian the Seventh, King of Denmark, his Majesty’s brother-in-law. This young Prince had left his dominions some months before, intending to visit the chief nations of Europe; and having great curiosity to see England, had proposed this visit. The English Monarch, who had no taste for show or amusements, and who every day sank more and more into privacy and lifeless solitude, had waived the offer on pretence of the national confusions; but Christian, who had both the obstinacy and caprices of youth and royalty, had persisted, and came. Not a single nobleman—not a single equipage was sent on the road to receive, escort, or convey the Danish King. He arrived at St. James’s in a hired carriage. The only attention paid to him was, that an apartment was new furnished, gilt plate brought from the Tower, and an expensive table kept for him and his suite. Neither the King nor Queen were at St. James’s to receive him; and the King even arrived there to his levee an hour later than usual. He then saw his Ministers; and the King of Denmark was at dinner before King George would admit Lord Hertford, his own Lord Chamberlain, who brought a message from the Dane, who had had the attention of ordering his own lords to wait on the King at his levee. It is scarce to be credited that though Christian was in his palace, he neither went to him nor received him there, but coldly sent him word he would see him at the Queen’s palace at half-an-hour after five. When common decency was thus neglected, it is not wonderful that national interest was forgotten. Christian, at that time, was a pensioner of France, and it imported us to win him out of their hands. When he afterwards went to Paris, he found every mark of respect, every instance of magnificence and liberality that a great Court, attentive to its interest or glory, knew how to bestow.
This Danish King was, in truth, an insipid boy; and there appeared no cause for his expensive ramble, though to support it he had laid a tax on all his placemen and pensioners. He took notice of nothing, took pleasure in nothing, and hurried post through most parts of England without attention, dining and supping at seats on the road, without giving himself time enough to remark so much of their beauties as would flatter the great lords who treated him. This indifference was excused in a whisper by Bernsdorffe,[126] his Prime Minister, who attributed it to his Majesty’s extreme short sight, which Bernsdorffe confessed was the great secret of the State. Yet the King’s manner was very civil; and though his person was diminutive and delicate, he did not want graceful dignity. He had taken an early dislike to his Queen, and had disgraced his cousin, the Prince of Hesse, for espousing her interest. Himself was then influenced by the Russians, Bernsdorffe and the Russian Minister governing him entirely; the latter even with rudeness to the Queen. But the King had a favourite, who had still more power over him, Baron Holke, a handsome young man, who attended him in his travels.
Princess Amelie, who felt the dishonourable treatment of her nephew, and who did not dislike to mark it to the public, made a ball and great entertainment for him at Gunnersbury. The King and the Princess Dowager then paid him the same civilities; but to show how much they disliked the precedent, left Princess Amelie out of their entertainments. In France, whither he went next, the literati cried up this young Monarch as a pattern of a patriot King; and it was probably from their praises he imbibed so much merit that at his return to his kingdom he granted to his subjects free liberty of the press.[127] The idea was certainly not instilled into him here by the King or the Princess Dowager.