the liberties of their country. Was it reasonable,--such was the
language of some scribblers,--that an honest gentleman should pay
a heavy land tax, in order to support in idleness and luxury a
set of fellows who requited him by seducing his dairy maids and
shooting his partridges? Nor was it only in Grub Street tracts
that such reflections were to be found. It was known all over the
town that uncivil things had been said of the military profession
in the House of Commons, and that Jack Howe, in particular, had,
on this subject, given the rein to his wit and to his ill nature.
Some rough and daring veterans, marked with the scars of
Steinkirk and singed with the smoke of Namur, threatened
vengeance for these insults. The writers and speakers who had
taken the greatest liberties went in constant fear of being
accosted by fierce-looking captains, and required to make an
immediate choice between fighting and being caned. One gentleman,
who had made himself conspicuous by the severity of his language,
went about with pistols in his pockets. Howe, whose courage was
not proportionate to his malignity and petulance, was so much
frightened, that he retired into the country. The King, well
aware that a single blow given, at that critical conjuncture, by
a soldier to a member of Parliament might produce disastrous
consequences, ordered the officers of the army to their quarters,
and, by the vigorous exertion of his authority and influence,
succeeded in preventing all outrage.6

All this time the feeling in favour of a regular force seemed to
be growing in the House of Commons. The resignation of Sunderland
had put many honest gentlemen in good humour. The Whig leaders
exerted themselves to rally their followers, held meetings at the
"Rose," and represented strongly the dangers to which the country