I have desired to give an idea of the violence of parliamentary discussion under George II., as well as of the deep-rooted animosity which existed between Walpole and Bolingbroke. The latter did not dare to face any revelations or more definite accusations. He soon quitted England, not to return as long as Walpole was in power. When he came back, in 1742, at the moment of his father's death, it was to establish himself in the country, in the house at Battersea, where he was born, and where he finally died, on the 17th of December, 1751, after the most stormy life, sadly devoted to unfortunate or disastrous enterprises, which were unscrupulously pursued with the resources of a rare and fruitful genius. "God, who has placed me here below," said he to Lord Chesterfield, in bidding him farewell, "will make of me what he will, after this; and he knows what is the best thing to do." All the irregularities of his life and all the inveterate doubts of his mind had never availed to snatch from the depths of the dying Bolingbroke's soul the hereditary faith in God which he had learned as a child at the knees of his mother, who had been piously attached to the principles of the old Dissenters.
The prolonged power of Walpole was menaced, and his authority seriously shaken. Troubles had broken out in Scotland. The escape of one smuggler and the punishment of another had aroused the populace of the capital, and caused that riot against Captain Porteous which forms one of the principal episodes of the Prison of Edinburgh.
Discord reigned in the royal family between King George II. and his eldest son, Frederick, Prince of Wales, as it had previously reigned between King George I. and his son. The queen shared the annoyance of her consort, and refused to see the prince, when, in the month of November, 1737, she was on her death-bed. "I hope that you will never desert the king," said she to Walpole. "It is to you that I commend him. Continue to serve with your accustomed fidelity." Walpole's regrets were bitter and sincere. He was losing an ally as certain as she was efficacious, at the moment when the violence of the attacks against him was increasing.
The Convention of Madrid, which ended with the close of the year 1738, had excited great discontent among the English merchants. The wise endeavors of the minister for the maintenance of peace with Spain were regarded as cowardice. Sixty members of the opposition, with Wyndham at their head, had declared their resolve of no longer taking part in the deliberations of a corrupt Parliament. The government majority grew smaller daily. Walpole, always obstinately attached to power, determined to bend before the storm and to lend his aid to a war which he deplored, and the result of which he doubted. On the 19th of October, 1739, as the city bells were sounding with all their peals in honor of the declaration of war, "Ring the cords of all your bells to-day," muttered Walpole; "it will not be long before you are wringing your hands."