a charge of treason. Swift is not a
trustworthy witness on these subjects, but he is quite right when he
says that the allegations were "more proper materials to furnish out a
pamphlet than an impeachment."

[Sidenote: 1715--"An intricate impeach is this!"]

Bolingbroke's friends must have felt deeply grieved at his flight when
they heard the statement of the case against him. Even as regards the
Treaty of Utrecht, it seems questionable whether the historical
conviction assuredly obtained against him by the contents of the report
would, in the existing condition of politics and parties, have been
followed by any sort of judicial conviction, whether in a court of law
or a trial by Parliament.

The day after the reading of the report gave Walpole his long-desired
revenge; he impeached Bolingbroke of high-treason. There was a dead
silence in the House when he had finished. Then two of Bolingbroke's
friends, Mr. Hungerford and General Ross, mustered up courage to speak
a few words for their lost leader. The star of the morning, the Tory
Lucifer, had fallen indeed! Lord Coningsby got up and made a clever
little set speech. Walpole had impeached the hand, and Lord Coningsby
impeached the head; Walpole had impeached the clerk, and Coningsby
impeached the justice; Walpole had impeached the scholar, and Coningsby
impeached the master. This head, this justice, this master, was, of
course, the Lord Oxford. As a piece of dramatic declamation {109}
Coningsby's impeachment was telling enough; as a historical
presentation of the case against the two men it was absurd. Through
all Anne's later years Oxford had been nothing and Bolingbroke
everything. On the very eve of the Queen's death Bolingbroke had
secured his triumph over his former friend by driving Oxford out of all
office. Had Oxford been first impeached, and the speech of Lord
Coningsby been aimed at Bolingbroke, it would have been strikingly
appropriate; as it was, it became meaningless rhetoric. Next day
Oxford went to the House of Lords, and tried to appear cool and
unconcerned, but, according to a contemporary account, "finding that
most members avoided sitting near him, and that even the Earl Powlet
was shy of exchanging a few words with him, he was dashed out of
countenance, and retired out of the House."

Impeachments were now the order of the day. The loyal Whigs of the
Commons were incessantly passing between the Upper House and the Lower
with artic