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and, when the collector fled, carried off a large sum of money. Wilson and Robertson were apprehended, were tried, and were sentenced to death. Mr. Lyndsay related that Wilson maintained, to the last moment, that he was unjustly condemned. "He admitted," to one of the reverend ministers of Edinburgh, "that he had taken money from a collector of the revenue by violence; that he did it because he knew no other way of coming at it; that the officers of the revenue had by their practice taught him this was lawful, for they had often seized and carried off his goods by violence; and so long as they had goods of greater value in their hands than all the money he took from them, they were still in his debt, and he had done no wrong." There can be no doubt that the mob of Edinburgh, and many above the mob, took the same view of Wilson's offence; and held the same opinion about revenue laws.

The attempt of Wilson and Robertson to escape from the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, when Wilson, a bulky man, stuck fast in the iron bars of his cell, is as well known as any of the adventures of Jack Sheppard. His generous effort to save his comrade after the condemned sermon in the Tolbooth church, has redeemed his memory from the ignominy of the common malefactor. Surrounded by four keepers, Wilson held two with his hands and a third with his teeth, whilst Robertson knocked down the fourth and escaped. This heroism made Wilson's own fate certain. He was executed on the 14th of April; whilst the populace looked on with stern compassion. No attempt at rescue was made, for the place of execution was not only surrounded by the city guard, but by a detachment of the Welsh fusiliers. After the body was taken down, a rush was made to seize it from the hangman. The populace then attacked the city guard, who were under the command of John Porteous, their captain. Porteous was a man of strong passions, very often brought into conflict with the blackguards of the city, and now in peculiarly ill temper from his dignity being interfered with by the unusual presence of a military force, called to assist in keeping the peace. He is said to have fired himself; he certainly ordered his gendarmerie to fire upon the people. Several persons were killed or wounded. The fusiliers also fired; but in firing above the heads of the mob, they hit several who were lookers-on from the adjacent windows. Porteous was brought to trial in July, before the high court of justiciary, on a charge of murder, for having caused the death of citizens without authority from the civil magistrate. He was convicted, and sentenced to capital punishment; but his conduct being considered by the council of regency in London as an act of self defence, he was reprieved by the English secretary of state. His execution had been fixed by the authorities of Edinburgh for the 8th of September. The news of the reprieve produced a sensation that foreboded mischief.

The 8th of September fell on a Wednesday. A report had gone forth that some tumult would take place on that day, when the populace, being disappointed of a legal sacrifice to their revenge, would attempt some daring act against Porteous. This was deemed a foolish story; but the lord provost of Edinburgh took some precautions to resist any outrage on that Wednesday. Porteous himself had no fears. A Scottish clergyman, Mr. Yates, had preached in the Tolbooth church, Porteous being present, on Sunday the 5th; and he afterwards saw Porteous, and told him of the report, and advised him to be cautious about admitting persons to his room. Porteous slighted his information; and said, were he once at liberty, he was so little apprehensive of the people that he would not fear to walk at the Cross of Edinburgh with only his cane in his hand as usual. The Tolbooth of the Scottish capital,

[1736 A.D.] like most other places of confinement, had its feasts for those who could pay, and its starvation for those who were destitute. On the evening of Tuesday, the 7th of September, Porteous was surrounded by a jolly party, draining the punch-bowl in toasting the speedy liberation of their friend. There was another remarkable festal assembly in Edinburgh that night. Mr. Lind, captain of the city guard, deposed that, "being informed that the mob was gathering, he went to Clark's tavern, where the provost was drinking with Mr. Bur, and other officers of his majesty's ship the Dreadnought, then stationed in the road of Leith; and upon acquainting him with the danger, the provost desired him to go immediately back, and draw out his men, and that he would instantly follow him, and put himself at the head of the guard to face the mob."

The mob was quicker than the provost or his captain. They had disarmed the guard; had taken possession of the guard-house; and were arming themselves with muskets, halberds, and Lochaber axes, which they there found. Edinburgh had suddenly fallen into the complete possession of a lawless multitude. The multitude went about their work with a calm resolution which was long attributed to an organisation proceeding from leaders much above the ordinary directors of mobs. No point was neglected. Magistrates rushed out to ring the alarm bell; the tower in which the bell hung was in the possession of the insurgents. Onward they marched, in numbers rapidly increasing, to the Tolbooth. Here they made a solemn demand that Captain John Porteous should be delivered up to them. Being refused, as they expected, they proceeded to batter the outer gate. Crowbars and sledge hammers were employed in vain. Fire accomplished what bodily strength could not effect. The rioters rushed to the apartment of the unhappy man. He was concealed in the chimney; but they dragged him down, and bade him prepare for death. Struggling ineffectually, he was carried to the Grassmarket, the usual place of execution. He was carried on men's hands, as two boys carry a third, by grasping each other's wrists. This stern multitude went on in silence, the glare of torches lighting up their lowering brows and the pallid features of their victim. Near the spot where the gallows had stood on which Wilson was hanged, a pole projected from a dyer's shop. A rope was fastened round the neck of Porteous. He was not hanged quickly. There was a terrible scene of butchery. The organisers of this daring act were never discovered, after the most rigid investigation.

The Porteous outrage took place whilst Queen Caroline was regent in the absence of the king. She felt it as an insult to her authority, and the ministry were inclined to visit the apparent neglect of the magistracy of Edinburgh with serious humiliation. A bill was brought in for disabling the lord provost from ever holding office, and for imprisoning him; for abolishing the town guard of Edinburgh; for taking away the gates of the Netherbow-port. The Scottish peers, and the Scottish members of the commons, fired up at this supposed assault upon the national honour. In the course of the parliamentary inquiry the Scottish judges were summoned to give evidence upon some legal points. It was contended by the duke of Argyll and other peers that these judges ought to sit on the Woolsack as do the English judges, when their presence is wanted in the house of peers. There was no precedence for such a course, and the Scottish judges were required to stand at the bar. Scotland was outraged by this distinction. The debate in both houses upon the proposed measures of pains and penalties assumed the character of a national controversy. "Unequal dealing,' "Unequal dealing," "partial procedure,' oppression to be resisted," and an independent nation "forced back into a

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state of enmity," were expressions which showed the danger to which this affair was tending.

Walpole hinted that when the bill was committed he should not object to amendments founded on reason and equity. When it finally went to the lords, it merely disqualified the lord provost from holding office, and imposed a fine upon the city of Edinburgh of £2,000, for the benefit of the widow of Porteous. Burtonn has remarked that "no one can read these debates without seeing reasons why the conduct of Scotland was so different from that of England in the insurrection which broke out eight years afterwards." Although the modified statute upon the Porteous riot could scarcely be a reasonable cause for national irritation, a supplementary measure produced a violent opposition from the Presbyterian clergy. It was enacted that they should read from their pulpits, once a month, a proclamation for discovering the murderers of Captain Porteous. This was held to be an Erastian measure, interfering with the spiritual authority of the kirk. That proclamation also contained the offensive words, "the lords spiritual in parliament assembled.” This was held to be a recognition of that church government which Scotland had rejected. At this period there was a schism amongst the Scottish clergy, and this measure had not a healing tendency. Some read the proclamation; some refused to do so. Compliance with the order of the government was held to be faithlessness to the church.k

DISSENSIONS IN THE ROYAL FAMILY

The principal hopes of the opposition in 1737 rested on Frederick, Prince of Wales, whose secret encouragement had now ripened into open support. His disagreements with his father were by no means of recent date. Even whilst he remained at Hanover, and whilst his father, as prince of Wales, had gone to England, they were near enough to bicker. His own wishes were strongly fixed on an alliance with the princess royal of Prussia, the same who afterwards became Margravine of Bareith, and who, in her memoirs, has left us a strange and probably exaggerated portrait of all her own relations. The marriage was earnestly desired by the queen of Prussia, and, indeed, by the chief members of both families; but the brutal temper of the king, who used to beat his daughter, and who wished to behead his son, and the personal antipathy between him and his cousin George II, finally broke off the negotiations. Prince Frederick, in as much despair as a lover can be who has never seen his mistress, sent from Hanover one La Motte as his agent, to assure the queen of Prussia that he was determined, in spite of his father, still to conclude the marriage, and that he would set off in disguise for Berlin to execute his purpose. But the queen, in an overflowing transport of delight, could not refrain from imparting the good news to the English envoy at her court. He, as was his duty, gave timely notice to his own; the rash project was prevented; and the headstrong prince was summoned to England, where he arrived, to the great joy of the nation, in 1728.

For some years after his arrival, the prince remained tranquil; but, as he became familiar with the English language and customs, and conscious of his own importance, he entered more and more into cabals against his parents. His character was weak, yet stubborn; with generous impulses, and not without accomplishments; but vain, fond of flattery, and easily led by flatterers. Even after his marriage, and whilst devoted to his wife, he thought it incum["The terrible Frederick William, satirically styled George II, 'My brother the come- AUBREY."]

dian."

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bent upon him to affect the character of a man of intrigue: this reputation, and not beauty, appears to have been his aim; and his principle favourite, Lady Middlesex, is described as "very short, very plain, and very yellow, and full of Greek and Latin!" He professed a love of literature; and his home was a resort for such men of talent as Pulteney, Chesterfield, Wyndham, Carteret, Cobham, and Bolingbroke. In fact, the time came when nearly all the wit and genius were ranged on the side of opposition.

The marriage of Frederick, in April, 1736, to Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, a princess of beauty and excellent judgment, did not, as was hoped, restore union to the royal family. Immediately afterward the prince began to complain unceasingly of the narrowness of his income; and, urged on by unwise advisers, he applied to Parliament to increase his annual allowance from £50,000 to £100,000. He even had the indelicacy to make promises to peers and commoners of what he would do for them when he came to the throne, if they would support him now; but, despite all his efforts, he was unable to accomplish his object.

At last one of the most extraordinary events in the private annals of royal houses separated the king and his son for years. At the time the prince and princess of Wales were residing with the king and queen at Hampton Court, the princess being far advanced in pregnancy. On the evening of Sunday, the 31st of July, the princess was taken ill; but the prince out of hostility to his father, insisted that his wife should not be confined at Hampton Court, and against all remonstrances, caused her to be transferred to Saint James', where she gave birth to a girl within an hour of her arrival. A correspondence ensued between George II and his rash son; the outcome of which was that, although the prince confessed his fault, the king ordered him to leave St. James' with all his family. Frederick did so, and took up his residence at Norfolk House.

DEATH OF QUEEN CAROLINE (1737 A.D.)

In the midst of these unseemly exhibitions, Queen Caroline who had long been afflicted with a dangerous complaint, was on the 9th of November taken dangerously ill. The prince of Wales expressed great desire to see his mother, but she refused consent. It was soon found that the disease had progressed too far to allow hope. On the 14th Sir Robert Walpole arrived from Houghton, and was conducted by the king to her majesty's bedside. Realising that her end was near, the queen pathetically recommended the king, her children, and the kingdom to the minister's care.

As the news that the queen was expected to die spread abroad there were many who expected that her death would mean the fall of Walpole, and Sir Robert himself seems to have shared this opinion. Lord Herveyd relates a curious conversation which occurred at this time between the great minister and himself. "Oh, my lord," said Sir Robert, "if this woman should die, what a scene of confusion will here be! I defy the ablest person in the kingdom to foresee what will be the consequence of this great event." Lord Hervey replied that the king would grieve for his wife a fortnight, forget her in a month, have two or three women with whom he would pass most of his time, and that Walpole would be more influential than ever. As Hervey predicted, the hopes of Walpole's enemies and the minister's own fears proved groundless.

The queen died on Sunday night, the 20th of November. The king, with all his silliness about mistresses- a silliness which he avowed even to