Royal
marriages,
1734 and 1736
In 1734 the princess royal was married to the Prince of Orange, and two years later the Prince of Wales married the Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha. On both occasions the City presented congratulatory addresses.[95] Lord Hervey, the king's vice-chamberlain, was highly indignant at the first address because of the reference it made to King William III. But if the City sinned in this respect it sinned in good company, for Oxford University and other corporate bodies made similar allusions. "The city of London," wrote Hervey,[96] "the University of Oxford, and several other disaffected towns and incorporated bodies took the opportunity of the princess royal's marriage to say the most impertinent things to the king, under the pretence of complimental addresses, that ironical zeal and couched satire could put together. The tenor of them all was to express their satisfaction in this match from remembering how much this country was indebted to a prince who bore the title of Orange, declaring their gratitude to his memory, and intimating as plainly as they dared, how much they wished this man might follow the example of his great ancestor, and one time or other depose his father-in-law in the same manner that King William had deposed his." Happily the king took a more sensible view of the address, and vouchsafed a gracious reply. So far from being offended at the City's allusion to William of Orange he was pleased. "It is a great pleasure to me," he said, "to see this great metropolis remember with so much gratitude the deliverance of these kingdoms from popery and slavery by my great predecessor King William."[97] Soon after the marriage of the Prince of Wales he was presented with the Freedom of the City in a gold box, having previously been admitted a member of the Saddlers' Company.[98]
Disputes between England and Spain in the West Indies.
For nearly twenty years England had enjoyed uninterrupted peace at home and abroad. The last action in which an English force had been engaged had taken place in the summer of 1718, when Admiral Byng defeated a Spanish fleet off Cape Passaro. Since then trade had been flourishing, and the city merchant had been busily sending cargoes of English merchandise across the sea to the West Indies, paying little regard to the restrictions imposed on them by the provisions of the Treaty of Utrecht.[99]
Jenkin's ear, 1738.
Spain on the other hand insisted upon the right of search, and their coastguards had often seized English vessels suspected of smuggling, and were sometimes reported as having brutally ill-used their crews.[100] Matters were fast tending to an open rupture when the episode of Jenkin's ear roused an intense desire for war both in the city and the country generally. The story is well known. Jenkin was master of a small trading vessel which seven years before had been overhauled by a Spanish guarda-costa. Irritated at finding nothing contraband on board the Spanish commander is said to have cut off one of Jenkin's ears, bidding him carry it to the king. Jenkin took advantage of the prevalent feeling against Spain to exhibit his ear wrapt in cotton wool, and when asked as to his feelings at the time of the outrage declared that he had commended his soul to God and his cause to his country. This clap-trap story—it is shrewdly suspected that Jenkin lost his ear in the pillory—had the desired effect. Popular indignation was roused, and the nation clamoured for war.
The City and the Spanish Convention, 1739.
To all this Walpole turned a deaf ear, and instead of proclaiming war opened negotiations for peace. A Convention with Spain was agreed to, but as it left the question as to right of search still unsettled, great opposition was displayed, both in and out of parliament, to its ratification. The minister was in the greatest straits. His best friend and supporter, the queen, had recently died, and the king, freed from the peaceful influence of his wife, as well as the City, were urging war. It was not often that the Londoners called for war, they were too interested in commercial pursuits not to appreciate to the full the blessings of peace. But on this occasion the City felt bound to make a strong representation to parliament as to "the fatal consequences of leaving the freedom of navigation any longer in suspense and uncertainty." They had too much reason to fear (they said) that if the right claimed by Spain of searching British ships at sea were admitted in any degree "the trade of his majesty's subjects to America will become so precarious as to depend in a great measure upon the indulgence and justice of the Spaniards, of both which they have given us for some years past such specimens as we humbly think this nation can have no cause to be satisfied with."[101] The citizens were probably right, although they were held up to much ridicule for venturing to give advice upon affairs of state. During the debate on the convention, lists of the members of the Common Council, with their respective trades or companies, were scattered abroad, and to these lists were appended texts from scripture to the effect that however useful such men might be in a city "they shall not be sought for in public council."[102]
"Leonidas" Glover.