es of his devout mother, chanced
to prevail. There were frequent quarrels between James and his wife,
turning partly on the question of education, more on the jealousy which
the queen conceived of the Countess of Inverness. The Pope sided with
the queen in these melancholy broils, and James's private life (which
was not faultless) was much more subject to criticism and interference
than that of his at least equally lax rival on the English throne. A
second son, Henry Benedict, Duke of York, was born in 1725, and, at one
time, was regarded as of more martial disposition than Prince Charles.
As the elder, Charles was first under fire, and at the siege of Gaeta,
in 1734, while a mere boy, he displayed coolness, daring, and contempt
of danger. Young Henry, aged nine, "was so much discontented at being
refused the partnership of that glory and that danger, that he would not
put on his sword till his father threatened to take away his garter
too," says Murray of Broughton, in a letter dated 1742. In later life
the Duke of York showed no military aptitude. A kind of progress which
Charles made through the cities of Italy, aroused his desire to be a
prince in more than name. The English Government quarrelled with the
Republic of Venice about the royal honors paid to the prince, and his
ambition was awakened. His education, we have said, was very imperfect.
Murray of Broughton, indeed, credits him with Latin, Greek, history, and
philosophy. But his spelling in both French and English was unusually
bad, even in an age of free spelling; he wrote _epoles_ for _epaules_,
"Gems" for "James," "sord" for "sword." He did not neglect physical
exercise; was wont to make long marches without stockings, to harden his
feet (as he told a follower during his Highland distresses). He was a
good shot, fond of hunting, and, about 1742, was probably the first man
who ever played golf in Italy. Murray describes him as "tall above the
common stature, his limbs cast in the most exact mould, his complexion
of an uncommon delicacy, all his features perfectly regular and well
turned, and his eyes the finest I ever saw." Whether they were blue or
hazel is undecided; they are hazel in at least one contemporary
portrait. As a boy, engravings show him pretty, merry, and buoyant; an
air of melancholy may be remarked as early as 1744. With bright
nut-brown hair, golden in the sun, and worn long beneath his peruke, he
certainly justified the endearing name of "B