ing on against ministers. But, whatever were the causes, Bolingbroke went over carly in the year and established himself in his beautiful villa of Chanteloup in Touraine. A few months after he wrote to his friend Wyndham-" My part is over; and he who remains on the stage after his part is over deserves to be hissed off. . . . . I thought it my duty not to decline the service of my party till the party itself either succeeded or despaired of success." Pulteney, at the same time, was observed to be gloomy and depressed. The day before the House rose some remarkable civilities passed between him and his former bosom friend Sir Robert, and subsequently he seemed to make advances towards a reconciliation. Going over to the Hague he sent a message to the minister's brother Horace, who, in consequence, went to see him. According to Horace Walpole's account he was very cordially received. "I endeavoured," says Horace," to be easy and cheerful, and to make him so; but his constant complaint was lowness of spirits, and, in my opinion, he is rather deadhearted than sick in body; in other respects, had a stranger come into the room, he would have thought we had never been otherwise than good friends."*

The emperor thought that at last he had discovered a certain means of moving both the Dutch and English government to take a part in the continental war; and he actually threatened to withdraw his troops from the Netherlands and cede that country to the French, whose occupancy of it had always been the stalking terror of Holland and England. But, as Walpole still remained averse to war and unmoved by a threat which he no doubt believed would never be realised, the emperor endeavoured to overthrow that ministry by a cabinet intrigue to be headed by Lord Harrington, who was known to be in favour of an armed interference. To this end one Abbé Strickland, who had intrigued for the Jacobites and against them, and who lived and thrived by intrigue, was sent over to England; but Walpole now found out the abbé under his false name, and Queen Caroline sent him out of England, intimating at the same time to the court of Vienna that they had been deceived by false reports, and that England would on no account engage in this war. Nothing therefore was left but submission, and the emperor finally consented to accept the mediation of the maritime powers. The march of armies was then stopped, and the diplomatists began their campaign, which, as usual, was very long and very formal. If the French minister Cardinal Fleury had not been as pacific as Walpole, it is quite certain that the business would never have been settled by the pen. In the end, however, it was agreed that Naples and Sicily should remain to Don Carlos, as a separate kingdom, independent of Spain and every other country; and that the infant, on the other hand, should resign Parma and his other possessions in Italy, together with

Letters in Coxe's Walpole.

the reversion of Tuscany that the Milanese should be restored to the emperor-that Augustus, the protégé of Russia and Austria, should remain King of Poland-that his rival Stanislaus, the French king's father-in-law, should retain the royal title, and be put in possession of the duchy of Lorraine, which, after his decease, shoul devolve to the French crown, and be incorporated politically, as it was physically, with the kingdom of France. The Duke of Lorraine, weak and a mere vassal as he was, had rights which could not well be overlooked, and he had a natural reluctance to resign to the Pole his paternal dominions; but eventually the young Duke of Lorraine, who was going to marry Maria Theresa, the heiress of the emperor's states under the Pragmatic Sanction, was induced to comply by the persuasions and authority of his imperial majesty, by a pension from France, and by being promised the succession to Tuscany in lieu of Don Carlos. The treaty further stipulated that both France and Sardinia should guarantee the Pragmatic Sanction, upon which the tranquillity of Europe and the safety or greatness of the emperor's daughter depended. His Sardinian majesty, who had played so double a part, was rewarded with the cession of Novara, Tortona, and other districts sliced off from the emperor's Lombard dominions. France was well satisfied with the acquisition of Lorraine, which ought to have been hers long before, but which neither Richelieu nor Mazarin had been able to acquire. The people of the kingdom of the Two Sicilies were also great gainers by these arrangements, for, instead of hungry viceroys, ever changing, from Madrid or Vienna, they got a king and a court of their own; and the government of Don Carlos and his minister Tanucci was on the whole a blessing to the country.

Avoiding one war for the emperor, England ran some risk of being brought into another for her ally the King of Portugal. The origin of this quarrel was sufficiently insignificant. The government at Madrid accused the servants of the Portuguese minister there of rescuing a criminal, and threw the said servants into prison. Every foreign ambassador at Madrid took part with the Portuguese envoy, and considered himself insulted in the infraction of the ambassadorial privileges. On the other side, the proud Spaniards would make no apology or concession. The dispute, embittered by memorials and counter-memorials, ran so high, that hostilities between Spain and Portugal seemed inevitable, and the court of Lisbon sent over to London Dom Antonio D'Alzevedo to claim the assistance of their close ally King George. Our obligation to give this assistance was indisputable and imperative; and Walpole forthwith sent a fleet of twenty-five ships of the line to the Tagus, taking care, however, well to instruct the admiral, Sir John Norris, that he was to act only defensively, and, in case of Spain's beginning hostilities, to represent to the Portuguese So the expediency and advantage of moderation.

Quakers established in his native county of Norfolk-a body that had stood by him in many a stern contest-was furious at this rejection, which he chiefly attributed to the bishops. He sent for Gibson, the Bishop of London, and rated him severely for his conduct in the House of Lords. Up to this moment he had entrusted the chief management of ecclesiastical affairs, the niceties of which he did not pretend to understand, to that prelate; but now he transferred the honours and advantages of that management to other hands. But Gibson, it appears, lost not only the minister's favour but also the see of Canterbury by his opposition to the Quaker Bill. The controversialist Whiston used to call him the heir apparent to the primacy, and it was universally believed from his intimacy with the minister that he would obtain that promotion; but on the death of Archbishop Wake, which happened in the following year (1737), the vacant dignity was conferred on Potter, bishop of Oxford.

The session of parliament closed on the 26th of May; and then his majesty went to Hanover. This time the temporary regency of Queen Caroline was far from being so tranquil as it had been on former occasions. The gin mobs were not yet tranquillized, and other riots were caused in London by the employment in the Spitalfields looms of a number of poor Irish, who had come over to mow and reap, but who had engaged to help to weave silk at two-thirds of the ordinary wages. But the disturbances in London were trifles compared to a tremendous popular outbreak in the city of Edinburgh. The tale scarcely needs telling, for it has been told by Sir Walter Scott in one of the best and most read of his exquisite Waverley novels. Two noted smugglers from Fife-Wilson and Robertson-were lying under sentence of death in the Tolbooth, for having robbed a collector of the excise. Through friendship or a bribe these doomed men procured a file, removed their fetters, and cut through the bar of a window. Wilson, eager to escape first, insisted upon making the first attempt, but, being a big, burly man, he stuck fast in the gap and was discovered by the jailors, when he and his more slender companion were again made fast. When the two unfortunate men were led out of prison into the neighbouring church to hear their last sermon, Wilson, who conceived himself to be the cause of preventing Robertson's escape-for, as a thin man, he might have passed through the bars if he had been allowed to go first-conceived a desperate and perhaps a sudden notion that he might yet liberate his comrade. The two were guarded by only four soldiers of the city-guard, and Wilson, though fat, was strong. When such a movement was no more expected than an earthquake, he sprung forward, seized two of the soldiers with his hands, bade Robertson run for his life, and secured a third soldier with his teeth. Robertson, whether warned or not, presently shook off the fourth soldier, rushed out of the church and was never again

seen in Edinburgh. This was not a time of romantic feeling in high quarters, or Wilson, who saved his friend and remained to be hanged, would have received a pardon, or at least his life; but the people of Edinburgh were much moved by the incident, and, having besides no great affection for excisemen and officers of the revenue-and Wilson they said had done no more than rob one of those robbers-they earnestly wished and apparently even hoped that the sufferer might be respited, or saved by some other less legal means. But no respite came, and, as the magistrates were warned that a rescue would be attempted, they took every precaution in order to prevent any interruption of the hangman's performance, and drew out a considerable portion of their city-guard under the command of their captain, John Porteous. This Porteous is described as a daring and active police officer, but a harsh and brutal man, that was feared and hated by the Edinburgh populace. Backed by this array, the executioner performed his horrible office, nor was any interruption offered till Wilson was dead and about to be cut down. Then some of the rabble began to groan and curse, and this excited others to throw stones at the hangman. It is said that executions of the kind seldom took place in Edinburgh without some such expression of the popular disgust; but the stones now hit the city guard and perhaps their captain as well as the hangman, and Porteous, in one of his savage furies, seized a musket and fired right into the mob. Some of his men followed his example, and many shots were fired without the Riot Act being read, or any legal formality gone through. By the usual fatality attending these cases most of the people that were killed or wounded were quiet spectators. The indignation at Porteous's rash and bloody proceedings was universal and excessive: he was thrown into the prison from which Wilson had just issued, was brought to trial for murder before the High Court of Justiciary, and was found guilty by an Edinburgh jury, though only by a majority of eight to seven. It was made to appear on his trial that he had been attacked first by the mob, and it was even inserted in the verdict which condemned him, that "he and his guards were attacked and beat with several stones of a considerable bigness, thrown by the multitude, whereby several of the soldiers were bruised and wounded." As the best thing she could do under these circumstances, Queen Caroline sent down a respite of six weeks in order to have time to inquire into the circumstances. But the reprieve was no sooner known in Edinburgh than the populace, who well remembered how Captain Bushell, who had fired upon the people of Glasgow, had been promoted instead of being hanged, were convinced it was the intention of the government to extend a full pardon to the prisoner-who most assuredly merited, if not death, a severe and exemplary punishment; and soon there arose a more terrible storm than ever, which was the more dangerous from its concentra

tion and the caution used in collecting and directing its elements. On the 7th of September the evening, previous to the day which had been originally appointed for his execution, Porteous, who interpreted the respite as it had been interpreted by others, gave an entertainment in his prison to a party of friends, drank wine and whiskey, and spoke with confidence of his approaching delivery. But at about ten o'clock that night a drum beat in the lower suburbs of Edinburgh, and a fierce multitude, which increased as the roll of the drum was heard, and which was apparently under the guidance of cautious and skilful leaders, soon seized and barricaded the West Port, the ports of the Canongate and Netherbow, and effectually cut off a regiment of infantry. These wary rioters next attacked and disarmed the city guard, who offered no resistance and received no injury, though among them were some of the very men who had fired upon the people at Wilson's execution. But the mob wanted not the blood of these inferior agents-the only man they had doomed to die was the captain. Armed with the guns, halberts, and Lochaber axes they had taken from the burgher guard, they rushed towards the Tolbooth shouting Porteous! Porteous! But the walls and low gates of that old prison were tremendously strong, and it was a long and doubtful task to drag their victim from his lair. The worthy magistrates of the good city of Edinburgh were all drinking at a tavern in the Parliament Close. Mr. Lindsay, who had the honour of representing the city in parliament, was at the tavern with the magistrates, and, as the riot increased, he undertook to carry a message to General Moyle, who was, with the regular troops, cut off in the suburbs. Lindsay, not without difficulty and danger, reached the general's quarters, and requested him to force the barricaded Nether Bow Port or Gate, and march into the city. Moyle, very properly, refused to move against the people unless authorised by a written warrant from the magistrates: Lindsay, on the other side, was afraid to be the bearer of any such paper, as the people were likely to tear him to pieces if they intercepted him and found it upon him. The general afterwards declared that Lindsay had come to him drunk; that honourable member said that the general showed a wonderful want of alacritywhich might well be, considering the circumstances and the recent example of what had befallen Porteous; and it was with extreme difficulty that mischief was prevented between General Moyle and Mr. Lindsay. The general, however, seeing it impossible to obtain a written order to act from the magistrates in the city, sent to Andrew Fletcher, Lord Justice Clerk of Scotland, who was at his villa at the distance of about three miles; but Fletcher was in bed, no answer was procured until one o'clock in the morning, and then, by some, mistake, it was not delivered to the general, but to Lindsay. The governor of Edinburgh Castle having also refused to act without a written order, the magis

trates, left to themselves, sallied out of the tavern, and tried to descend the High-street towards the prison; but they were presently stopped by the mob, who neither injured them nor insulted them, but made them go back to the tavern and remain quiet. After battering the iron-bound Tolboothgate without effect till their strength or patience was exhausted, a voice in the crowd cried out "Try fire!" The suggestion was acted upon instantly;-tar-barrels and other combustible materials were heaped before the door, and the old oak began to char and burn. The jailor then thought himself compelled to surrender, and he threw out the keys to the mob, who rushed in, while the other prisoners confined rushed out. The ringleaders went straight to the cell of Porteous and broke it open; but the cell was emptythe victim seemed gone. But a man cried out that he could not be gone far, and pointed to the chimney. A rush was made to that aperture and Porteous was pulled down by the legs, and told that he must die the death he deserved. The fierce but fallen and helpless man entreated and prayed and offered large sums of money; but it was all in vain. The ringleaders allowed him to give the money and papers he had with him to the safe keeping of a friend, who was in confinement for debt; and then, as if he had made his will in a regular manner, a man of a grave and reverend aspect offered him sundry spiritual exhortations of the sort considered proper to dying men. They then carried Porteous from the Tolbooth to the Grassmarket, the spot where Wilson had suffered, where the captain had fired upon the people, and where executions were usually performed. To obtain a coil of ropes they broke open a shop, but they left a guinea behind them to pay for what they had taken. They could not find the ordinary gallows, but they seized a dyer's pole and made that serve for the horrid office. When Porteous was hanged, and dead and cold, the mob dispersed quietly to their houses, and when day dawned nothing remained in the streets of Edinburgh but a few scattered halberts and Lochaber axes which the rioters had thrown away to be resumed by their proprietors of the city guard, and the suspended body of the wretched Porteous. The news of this remarkable outrage created astonishment at London and bewildered the government: Queen Caroline was greatly excited, as she considered the murder of Porteous, whom she had reprieved, as a direct insult to her own person and authority. It is said that in her first rage she exclaimed to the Duke of Argyll that, rather than submit to such things, she would desolate the country and make Scotland a huntingfield; when that high-born Scot replied, with a profound bow, "Then, madam, I will take leave of your majesty and go down to my own country to get my hounds ready!" Yet it was Lord Ilay, the Duke of Argyll's brother, that was sent down to Edinburgh as the only person capable of ascertaining the real nature of the riot and bringing the

offenders to justice; and he was intrusted by his friend Walpole with very full powers. Ilay offered rewards and denounced tremendous threats, but he could never elicit any disclosures as to the ringleaders or actors in the tragical affair. The fact appears to be that nearly all Edinburgh was about equally guilty-that the hanging of Porteous was considered a great national measure, and that the meanest man, woman, or child disdained to reveal anything that might point the vengeance of government against Scotsmen for so laudable a deed! Every body knew that persons of very superior manners and condition had been actively engaged. Lord Ilay was paralyzed and knew not what to do or think. "The most shocking circumstance," says his lordship in a letter to Walpole, "is, that it plainly appears the highflyers of our Scotch church have made this infamous murder a point of conscience. One of the actors went straight away to a country church, where the sacrament was given to a vast crowd of people, as the fashion is here, and there boasted what he had done; all the lower rank of the people who have distinguished themselves by pretences to a superior sanctity talk of this murder as the hand of God doing justice; and my endeavours to punish murderers are called grievous persecution." The people of Scotland, however, remained perfectly quiet, leaving the execution of Porteous to appear as an isolated fact unconnected with any other scheme or intention of revolt.

A. D. 1737.—The parliament this year did not open till the 1st of February. Its first debates were upon the Edinburgh tumults, and were characterized by a violence almost as inexcusable as that of the Porteous mob. There were madmen in both Houses, who, if they had had their way, would have converted a night riot into a long and bloody civil war. A fierce vindictive bill was brought in proposing nothing less than to abolish the city charter of Edinburgh, raze the city gates, disband the city guard, and fine and imprison and render the provost, Mr. Wilson, for ever incapable of holding any public office. Witnesses were examined at the bar of the Lords, and even three Scottish judges in their robes were subjected to questionings and cross-questionings; yet all that could be fairly proved against the provost and magistrates was, that they had been somewhat careless; that they had disregarded some indirect warnings, and that they had been taken by surprise. But their strong Scottish feeling of nationality, which could often rise even in courtly lords and members of parliament high above the love of lucre and every other consideration, blazed forth with a heat which alarmed and deterred the prosecuting party. In the Lords the Duke of Argyll denounced the bill as contrary to law and justice; and in the Commons the wise and patriotic Duncan Forbes, though holding office under the crown as lord advocate for Scotland, spoke eloquently and vehemently in the same sense; and, though Walpole replied, the Scottish lawyer was generally considered to have

had the best of the argument. Walpole, however, was wise enough to declare that he by no means made the bill a ministerial question. The harsh measure did not captivate the English people; and in spite of old national antipathy it soon became unpopular with them. It was well nigh cast out in committee. In the end it was rendered almost "stingless;" the most obnoxious clauses were allowed to drop one by one, and nothing was left but an act for disabling Alexander Wilson, the provost, from taking, holding, or enjoying any office or place of magistracy in the city of Edinburgh, or elsewhere in Great Britain, and for imposing a fine upon the said corporation of Edinburgh of 20007. for the benefit of the widow of Porteous. And so, as some humourist at the time observed, the end of all these great debates was, the making the fortune of an old cook-maid. There was, however, a second bill, originated by the Lords, containing a clause compelling the ministers of the Scottish church to read once every month for twelve months to come a proclamation from their pulpits, calling on their congregations to find out and bring to justice the murderers of Porteous. This order was exceedingly odious to the majority of the Presbyterian clergy, who complained, with some reason, that it was making the pulpit a place of hue-and-cry. Other conscientious preachers objected that, as the proclamation mentioned the lords spiritual in parliament, their reading of it might look like an acknowledgment of episcopacy, which they still abhorred. Between the bill and proclamation, the violence of the people and the irritation of the clergy, Walpole lost materially in his hold on the Scotch burghs; and this he was made to feel at the next elections.

The remaining debates of the present session were chiefly of a financial nature. In a committee of supply on the 9th of March Walpole moved that a sum of one million should be taken from the sinking fund, and applied to relieve some of the old South Sea annuitants. On the 14th this resolution was agreed to. But then Sir John Barnard proposed that the House should resolve itself into committee to consider the national debt, and receive any proposals which might be made to reduce the rate of interest to 3 per cent. The minister, after speaking about the danger of meddling with public credit, or taking any step likely to affect it, consented, and on the 21st the House resolved itself into a committee of supply. national debt was proved to amount to 47,866,596. Sir John Barnard produced his scheme, which was, that his majesty might be enabled to borrow money at 3 per cent. to redeem old South Sea annuities and others for which a higher rate of interest was paid. The land interest seconded the project, captivated by the notion of getting money at 3 per cent.; but the monied interest, the capitalists, in general opposed it, and, after a long debate and some of those parliamentary manœuvres of which Walpole was so great a master, it was rejected.

The