The tutor had to console himself with a tu quoque, for the young scapegrace had found his way to Lyons in October, 1716, and then did the very thing his father’s son should not have done.  The Chevalier de St. George, the Old Pretender, James III., or by whatever other alias you prefer to call him, having failed in his attempt ‘to have his own again’ in the preceding year, was then holding high court in high dudgeon at Avignon.  Any adherent would, of course, be welcomed with open arms; and when the young marquis wrote to him to offer his allegiance, sending with his letter a fine entire horse as a peace offering, he was warmly responded to.  A person of rank was at once despatched to bring the youth to the ex-regal court; he was welcomed with much enthusiasm, and the empty title of Duke of Northumberland at once, most kindly, conferred on him.  However, the young marquis does not seem to have goute the exile’s court, for he stayed there one day only, and returning to Lyons, set off to enjoy himself at Paris.  With much wit, no prudence, and a plentiful supply of money, which he threw about with the recklessness of a boy just escaped from his tutor, he could not fail to succeed in that capital; and, accordingly, the English received him with open arms.  Even the ambassador, Lord Stair, though he had heard rumours of his wild doings, invited him repeatedly to dinner, and did his best, by advice and warning, to keep him out of harm’s way.  Young Philip had a horror of preceptors, paid or gratuitous, and treated the plenipotentiary with the same coolness as he had served the Huguenot tutor.  When the former, praising the late marquis, expressed—­by way of a slight hint—­a hope ’that he would follow so illustrious an example of fidelity to his prince, and affection to his country, by treading in the same steps,’ the young scamp replied, cleverly enough, ’That he thanked his excellency for his good advice, and as his excellency had also a worthy and deserving father, he hoped he would likewise copy so bright an example, and tread in all his steps;’ the pertness of which was pertinent enough, for old Lord Stair had taken a disgraceful part against his sovereign in the massacre of Glencoe.

His frolics at Paris were of the most reckless character for a young nobleman.  At the ambassador’s own table he would occasionally send a servant to some one of the guests, to ask him to join in the Old Chevalier’s health, though it was almost treason at that time to mention his name even.  And again, when the windows at the embassy had been broken by a young English Jacobite, who was forthwith committed to Fort l’Eveque, the hare-brained marquis proposed, out of revenge, to break them a second time, and only abandoned the project because he could get no one to join him in it.  Lord Stair, however, had too much sense to be offended at the follies of a boy of seventeen, even though that boy was the representative of a great English family; he, probably, thought it would be better to recall him to his allegiance by kindness and advice, than, by resenting his behaviour, to drive him irrevocably to the opposite party; but he was doubtless considerably relieved when, after leading a wild life in the capital of France, spending his money lavishly, and doing precisely everything which a young English nobleman ought not to do, my lord marquis took his departure in December, 1716.