KING GEORGE II.
From the Painting by John Shackleton in the National Portrait Gallery.
Walpole now realised that all that lay between him and power was a question of money. He therefore went next morning to the King with carefully prepared estimates. He proposed that his Majesty’s Civil List should consist primarily of the £700,000 a year paid to the late King; £100,000 more, which had been paid directly to the Prince of Wales in the last reign, but which would now be vested in the King to make what allowance he pleased to his eldest son; and a further increase of £130,000 a year arising out of certain funds. In all, therefore, the King would receive the enormous sum of more than £900,000 a year. This George agreed to, for though he would have liked more, he had the sense to see that it was impossible to get it. The Queen had impressed upon him that Walpole was the only man who could carry such a large increase through the House of Commons. Pulteney and other Opposition politicians were ready to promise more to gain office, but their promises were nothing worth, for they had neither the ability nor the power to carry a large grant through Parliament. The King therefore took Walpole by the hand, and said that he had considered the matter, and intended to continue him in office on the understanding that he would carry through the Civil List, at the sum named. He added significantly: “Consider, Sir Robert, what makes me easy in this matter will prove for your ease too; it is for my life it is to be fixed, and it is for your life”.
Matters thus being settled, the Queen that night at the drawing-room made known her approval of Walpole in a characteristic manner. Lady Walpole had come to court to pay her respects to the King and Queen, but she could not make her way to the royal daïs, for the lords and ladies turned their backs on the wife of the fallen Minister (as they considered him), and refused to yield her place. By dint of much struggling she managed to reach the third row, where she was espied by the Queen, who, beckoning to her, called out: “There, I am sure, I see a friend.” The crowd in front immediately divided, and Lady Walpole performed her obeisance in the sight of the wondering court. The King and Queen smiled, and chatted with her some little time. All the courtiers noted it, and, “as I came away,” said Lady Walpole afterwards, “I might have walked over their heads had I pleased”. Thus Compton’s brief dream of authority vanished, and Walpole’s tenure in power was assured. The crowd of placemen who had surrounded Compton transferred their attentions once more to Walpole, and the former was now as much deserted as the latter had been. The most extraordinary part of the whole affair was that, though Compton’s friends, chief among whom were Mrs. Howard, the Duke of Argyll and Lord Chesterfield, were plunged into despondency by his fall, Compton himself heeded little these vicissitudes, and was content to be given, by way of compensation, a place about the court, the garter, and a peerage under the title of Earl of Wilmington. If the man had not been such a fool, he might almost have passed for a philosopher.
When Parliament met a week later it was seen by all the world that Walpole retained his old place. It was Walpole who proposed and carried through Parliament the bloated Civil List. Such was the Minister’s power that no one in the House of Commons dared raise his voice against it except Shippen the Jacobite, who was known as “Downright Shippen” for his outspokenness. He had been sent to the Tower in 1717 for proclaiming in the House of Commons the obvious truth that George the First “was a stranger to our language and constitution”; yet, avowed Jacobite though Shippen remained, Walpole never repeated this error. Walpole had a great respect for him and used to say he was the only man in Parliament whose price he did not know. Shippen on his part declared: “Robin and I are two honest men, he is for King George and I am for King James, but these men in long cravats only desire place under King George or King James”. Parliament, having duly passed the Civil List, was dissolved by the King in person, who had one great advantage over his father in that he was able to read his speeches in English, albeit with a broad German accent. Walpole now had it all his own way. All the old King’s Ministers were kept in office, even the Duke of Newcastle whom the King had especially hated—all, that is, except Lord Berkeley, who was forced to resign in consequence of the Queen having found in the late King’s cabinet a paper (of which mention has already been made) containing a plan to kidnap the Prince of Wales and send him off to America. Berkeley, who had drawn up the document, found it convenient to withdraw to the Continent. No other changes of importance were made. Malpas was reinstated; Yonge had to remain out of office for a little time longer, but was eventually given a small post.
The Jacobites had always expected that the death of George the First would, in some way, benefit the Stuart cause—in what way it is not clear, for George the Second when Prince of Wales was less unpopular than his father. But the Jacobites hugged the hope that the death of the first Hanoverian king would plunge the country into confusion, and so it might have done, if George the First had not been so inconsiderate as to die at a moment when the Jacobites were in great confusion themselves. For the last two or three years James’s little court had been distracted by internal jealousies and intrigues. Lord Mar, who superseded Bolingbroke, had, notwithstanding all his services, been superseded by Hay, whom James appointed his Secretary of State and created Earl of Inverness. Hay had a wife, who shared in these barren honours, which, it was said, she had done much to win. Her brother, Murray, James created Earl of Dunbar. This trio, of whom the lady was the most arrogant, entirely governed James, who, like a true Stuart, was swayed by favourites. They created great dissatisfaction at his court. It was not long before his consort, Clementina, who was a princess of great beauty and virtue, but extremely high-spirited, had cause to complain of the insolence of Inverness and his wife. It was said that Lady Inverness was James’s mistress, and colour was lent to the rumour by the fact that Clementina insisted upon her dismissal from her court. James refused, and she withdrew from her husband’s palace and retired to the convent of St. Cecilia at Rome. A long correspondence ensued between James and Clementina, but she declined to return unless Lady Inverness was dismissed, and so brought about a virtual separation. This domestic scandal did great harm to the Stuart cause among the Roman Catholic princes of Europe, all of whom warmly espoused Clementina’s side. The Emperor, who was her kinsman, was highly displeased, the Queen of Spain, who was her friend, was indignant, the Jacobites in England were divided amongst themselves, and in Scotland James’s followers fell off everywhere in numbers and in zeal. The strongest representations were made to James from every side, but for a long time he turned a deaf ear to them all. At last, after protracted negotiations, he accepted Inverness’s resignation and Lady Inverness went with her husband. Clementina agreed to leave her convent and rejoin her husband who was then at Bologna. She was actually on the road when the news arrived of George the First’s death. Immediately all domestic considerations were swallowed up in the political necessities of the moment.
Seeing the advisability of being nearer England at this crisis, James set out from Bologna on the pretext of meeting his consort, but turning back half-way, he posted with all speed to Lorraine. As soon as he arrived at Nancy in Lorraine he sent a messenger to Atterbury, who was acting as his agent in Paris, another to Lord Orrery, his agent in London, and a third to Lockhart at Liège, who was acting as his agent for Scotland. James had no lack of courage, and was anxious to set out for the Highlands at once, though he had neither a settled scheme nor promise of foreign aid. But the news he received from the north of the Tweed was discouraging, and the despatches from England were worse. Lord Strafford wrote to him[4] saying that the tide in favour of the “Prince and Princess of Hanover,” as he called them, was too strong at present for the Jacobites to resist, and it would be better to wait until dissatisfaction broke out again, which he anticipated would not be long. “I am convinced,” he wrote, “that the same violent and corrupt measures taken by the father will be pursued by the son, who is passionate, proud, and peevish, and though he talks of ruling by himself, he will just be governed as his father was. But his declarations that he will make no distinction of parties, and his turning off the Germans make him popular at present.” Strafford, like many others, made the mistake of leaving Queen Caroline out of his calculations.
It was impossible for James to stay in Lorraine, for the French Government, at the instigation of Walpole, ordered the Duke of Lorraine to expel the “Pretender” from his territory. The duke, who was only a vassal of France, was forced to obey, and urged his unwelcome guest to leave Lorraine within three days. So James withdrew under protest. “In my present situation,” he wrote to Atterbury, “I cannot pretend to do anything essential for my interest, and all that remains is that the world should see that I have done my part.”[5] It must be admitted that he was ready to do it bravely.
James first sought refuge in the Papal State of Avignon, but here again the relentless English Government, acting through the French, managed to hunt him out, and the following year the heir of our Stuart Kings was forced to return a fugitive to Italy. He was joined by Clementina and afterwards lived harmoniously with her. Unfortunate in all else, James was at least fortunate in his consort, for all authorities unite in praising her grace and goodness, her talents and charity.