Against the Parliaments the sentence went forth. Next followed the punishment of individuals:—40,000l. a-year, the King’s pension to the Duc d’Orleans, were withdrawn; and soon afterwards the command of the Swiss Guards was taken from Choiseul: it brought him in 5000l. a-year, and was for life; but the King demanded his resignation, and perpetual imprisonment would have attended the refusal. Yet that dauntless man dared to stipulate for terms with his master. He insisted on a promise of not being made a prisoner, and demanded an indemnification of what he had paid for the regiment, 300,000 livres. He was comforted with hopes of preserving his liberty; 200,000 livres were granted, and a pension of 50,000 livres a-year for the joint lives of him and the Duchess, to which 10,000 more were soon added,—a fall extremely mitigated by these indulgences, and gentle if compared with the insolence of his conduct.
To the city of Paris, and to the ruined counsellors of the Parliaments, the Duke remained still dear. They coupled his cause with their own, from the unity of the time. The Chancellor adopted the same idea to incense the King against both. The depopulation of Paris ensued. So many families were undone by the new edicts and stoppages of payments, and so many persons attached to the late Parliament had quitted the capital, that in less than twelve months one hundred thousand persons were computed to have retired into the provinces, and such as could escape into other countries. The King’s servants were unpaid; trade at a stand; distress and dissatisfaction in every countenance. Daggers threatened the King and Chancellor: the Comptroller-General threatened to plunder everybody else to prevent a national bankruptcy.
Still could not the King’s favour draw observance towards his mistress. Not above six women of rank would accept her protection or acquaintance. Almost all the Foreign Ministers shunned her, nor bad attended her levee—but this cloud was easily removed: Madame de Valentinois invited them to supper, where they found Madame du Barry. As they were not shy to her, she in her turn gave them a like invitation;[203] they hurried to it and to her levee, the Nuncio at their head. The Spanish Ambassador[204] alone was absent, and it passed for an accident, as he was not at Compiègne; but on his arrival there with the new Neapolitan Minister,[205] the Chancellor made a supper for the same company, and invited the two strangers. The Spaniard sent back the card, saying, he had not the honour of visiting the Chancellor;[206] the latter with great presence of mind said, “It is very true, and I ordered my servant to take care not to go to the Spanish Ambassador.” But this finesse palliated nothing, for neither the Spaniard nor Neapolitan would visit the mistress. I will conclude this long episode with a ridiculous fact. Mademoiselle L’Ange, the mistress, had been married to the Comte du Barry, because, by a most absurd ceremonial, it was necessary that the King’s mistress should be a married woman.
CHAPTER IX.
Election of the Lord Mayor.—Movements of the Pretender.—Conduct of Lord Townshend in Ireland.—Pensions.—Money Bills.—Lord Rockingham ceases Parliamentary Opposition.—The Army is composed of Scotchmen.—Sir James Lowther loses his Cause.—Court Party Predominant.—Private Distresses of the King.—Illness of the Princess Dowager and the Duke of Gloucester.—The Duke of Cumberland marries Colonel Lutterell’s Sister.—Her Character and Family.—Public Opinion on the Marriage.—Anecdote of Sir Robert Walpole.—The King’s Treatment of the Duke.—The Duke of Gloucester’s Health Improves.—Death of the Princess Dowager.
1771.
On the 12th of September died, after a very short indisposition, Mr. Robert Wood, a man whose character was much brighter in the literary than in the political world.
In October came on the election of the Lord Mayor. Sawbridge and Townshend, the late Sheriffs, declared themselves candidates. The Court were afraid publicly to interfere; but they excited the wealthier merchants, who groaned under the ascendant of the upstart tribunes, to make a stand against the popular faction. The idea was eagerly embraced, and one Nash, a senior Alderman, and very opulent grocer,[207] was set up against the two demagogues. Townshend’s friends tried to persuade him to waive his pretensions in favour of Sawbridge, that the popular interest might not be divided; but acquiescence and prudence were not the tone of that Opposition. Nash was grievously insulted and almost killed in his passage to the election; but, in the Hall, Wilkes himself was more the object of attacks, both Sawbridge and Townshend reviling him, and the latter hinting at his insertion of abusive paragraphs in the newspapers. Wilkes challenged them both to prove their accusations. Townshend equivocated; Sawbridge denied his having alluded to Wilkes. These squabbles, and the outrageous behaviour of Captain Allen, who vomited out invectives against the House of Commons[208] on his own case, raised such heats and dissensions, that Nash was elected Mayor, and Townshend driven out of the court with hisses. Between him and Wilkes a war of words and libels and giving the lie ensued; Wilkes, with impudent humour, abused Townshend for having reflected illiberally on the Princess of Wales in the House of Commons. On entering on his shrievalty, Wilkes canvassed for popularity by ordering the irons of criminals to be knocked off during their trials, and by allowing all persons to enter the court without paying for admittance; but this reformation created so much crowding and disturbance, that the magistrates were forced to interpose. To balance these attempts, Townshend refused, as he had often promised, to pay the land-tax for Middlesex, on the pretended plea that the county was not legally represented; but his goods being distrained, nobody chose to be a confessor in the same cause.
At the beginning of the month the Pretender suddenly disappeared, in the most secret manner, and with scarce any attendance. As France had lately sent the Marquis de Viomenil, an able general, with sixty officers, to Poland, it was supposed that she favoured that adventurer in his pursuit of a crown that tottered on the head of the wearer, and to which Stuart, by his mother Sobieski, was allied. The first news learned of him was, that he was at Paris, protected by the Duc d’Aiguillon, who had always wished well to his cause. This was, however, soon denied; and it was pretended that the Marquis de Fitzjames, grandson of the Duke of Berwick, had received orders from Versailles to re-conduct the Prince, his cousin, to Genoa. In the streets of that city chance gave him and the Duke of Gloucester to meet. They bowed, turned back, and both smiled. During the Pretender’s eclipse, the Cardinal of York being questioned on the motive of his brother’s journey, replied enigmatically, “He is gone whither he should have gone a year ago;” a sentence not understood till six months after, when it came out that Stuart had gone to Paris to see the Princess of Stolberg, whom he married there by proxy in the March following,—no contradiction of the idea that D’Aiguillon favoured the House of Stuart. He had long countenanced the Jesuits, though the emergence of party now obliged him, in opposition to the Chancellor, to take the contrary part.