FOOTNOTES:
[26] It was said, “no people ever took so much killing.”
[27] They were permitted to trade to the French colonies, a privilege denied to them in time of peace.
[28] Marquis of Pombal.
[29] Malagrida, the chief criminal, was executed long afterwards, but under the clumsy pretence of being condemned by the Inquisition.
[30] The motto was with some humour taken from the Revelations: “And I looked, and behold a pale horse [alluding to the white horse in the arms of Hanover] and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed.” Ch. 6, v. 8.
[31] At the end of 1758.
1759.
Verbis restituit rem.
[CHAPTER VII.]
The Author’s motives for continuing this Work in the year 1759—A memorable era—Election of Chancellor of Oxford—Exchange of Prisoners—Death of the Princess of Orange—Capture of Goree—Expeditions to West Indies—Generals Wolfe and Townshend—Mr. Pitt’s character and ministry—Estimates of the year—Mr. Pitt’s speech on Taxes—Jealousies in the Ministry—Royal Message respecting the Militia—Threats of Invasion from France—Havre de Grace bombarded.
The conclusion of the reign which furnished the preceding Memoirs arrived so soon after the period where I quitted my narration, and was terminated by such a scene of glory, that it would be unpardonable to break off the thread in the most interesting moment of our annals. The particular events will be detailed by many writers, more accurately perhaps, and more circumstantially: but as I am accustomed to relate our story with exact fidelity to the impressions it made on me, the picture of so memorable an era drawn by an eyewitness must, with all its faults and prejudices, be more striking to future readers, than the cold and critical detail which men less partial may hereafter retrace and digest on a regular plan.
These volumes, however, having swelled to a bulk far beyond my first intention, I shall endeavour to restrain this sketch to as compact dimensions as perspicuity will admit of. Descriptions of battles and victories I have always avoided, as not coming within the scope of my purpose, and from my ignorance in military transactions. Even the glorious campaigns which will be the chief subjects of the two years I am going to write of, will be but slightly touched: their consequences alone are my object. Intrigues of the Cabinet, or of Parliament, scarce existed at that period. All men were, or seemed to be, transported with the success of their country, and content with an Administration which outwent their warmest wishes, or made their jealousy ashamed to show itself. Few new characters appeared on the stage. One episode[32] indeed there was, in which less heroic affections were concerned; but having given rise to no memorable catastrophe, nor disturbed the shining order of events, it will not demand a long narration, though it will diversify the story, and, by the intermixture of human passions, serve to convince posterity that such a display of immortal actions as illustrate the following pages is not the exhibition of a fabulous age.
The winter of this great year was not memorable. I shall briefly skim the events of it. The Chancellorship of Oxford was vacant by the death of Lord Arran.[33] The candidates were the Earls of Westmoreland[34] and Lichfield,[35] and Trevor, Bishop of Durham. The last, who had the appearance of a Court-candidate, was yet Tory enough not to make him despair of success. Lord Lichfield’s education, principles, and connexions were still more favourable to his hopes. He lived in the neighbourhood, was unalterably good-humoured, and if he did not make the figure that his youth had promised, the Jacobites could not reproach him, as he had drowned his parts in the jovial promotion of their cause—but of late he had warped a little from what they thought loyalty. Lord Westmoreland was an aged man, of gravity and dignity, married to a Cavendish, and formerly so attached to the House of Hanover, that he commanded the very body of troops which King George I. had been obliged to send to Oxford to teach the University the only kind of passive obedience which they did not approve. But having fallen into the intimacy of Lord Chesterfield and Lord Cobham during the Opposition to Sir Robert Walpole, his regiment[36] was taken from him, and his resentment, which was not so versatile as theirs, had led him to imbibe all the nonsensical tenets of the Jacobites. They wanted a representative, and he was a comely one. The choice accordingly fell on him, after Lord Lichfield, who divided the Tories, had flung his interest into that scale to prevent the election of the Bishop.
The cloud which had hung over General Conway since the disappointment at Rochfort began to disperse. He was commissioned to meet at Sluys Monsieur de Bareil, who commanded in French Flanders, and to settle a cartel for the exchange of prisoners. The distresses of France had obliged that Crown to withdraw their allowance from their prisoners here, who were so numerous as to make that scanty stipend an object: it seemed none to the generosity of this country to replace it—private and voluntary subscriptions[37] were even made for their relief. The cartel was immediately and satisfactorily settled: yet as Mr. Pitt could not digest the smallest deviation from his plans, the essence of which was rashness, and as he wisely was desirous of inspiring the most romantic valour into our officers and troops, nothing could prevail on him to trust another enterprise to Mr. Conway, who panted for an opportunity of encountering the rudest dangers that Mr. Pitt could chalk out. But Conway was still crossed; and even Moyston, who pleaded ignorance of his profession, to excuse himself from being employed on the West Indian expeditions, was, by the favour of Newcastle, whose creature he then was, preferred to Conway for service in Germany.
On the 12th of January died Anne, Princess-Royal of England and Dowager of Orange, the King’s eldest daughter, and Gouvernante of the Republic during the minority of her son, in the fiftieth year of her age. She left no children but the young Stadtholder,[38] of eleven years of age, and the Princess Caroline. Her last offices had been employed in preventing a rupture between Great Britain and Holland, which was ready to break out on the many captures we had made of their vessels carrying supplies to the French settlements.
The first conquest that opened the year was the capture of Goree by Commodore Keppel.[39] That island had indeed surrendered on the 29th of December preceding; but the account did not arrive till the 27th of this month. An expedition of far higher importance was at that time on the point of departing. The war was to be carried into the heart and to the capital of the French empire in America; and so weakened was the force of that Monarchy on that side of the globe, by their encroachments, in which they had drawn upon themselves such extensive vengeance, that this was not attempted to be made a secret expedition. Quebec was the object, and was avowed to be so. Another fleet had sailed in November, to attempt the reduction of Martinico and Guadaloupe, under the direction of General Hopson and Commodore Moore. The former was old and infirm: brave, but neither able nor experienced: Moore has been mentioned before. On Martinico the attempt miscarried. Moore was blamed by some for want of activity; but his subservience to the Ministry on the affair of Admiral Byng had secured such favour to him, that, in the Extraordinary Gazette published on this disappointment, Moore was treated with great lenity, and the blame made to bear hard on Hopson, who, however, survived long enough to expire in the arms of victory; for, on the failure at Martinico, the troops embarked with alacrity for Guadaloupe, and carried that island by dint of bravery. Basseterre, the capital, was reduced to a heap of ashes by the artillery from the Fleet; and Hopson died in possession of the ruins. The remainder of the island was subdued by General Barrington,[40] who succeeded to the command, and Colonel Clavering. Moyston,[41] as I have said, had been named for this service, but professed he knew nothing of his trade: yet, on a promotion of general officers, before which the King, as usual, made a promotion of Hanoverians in the same line, by which some Major-Generals were now put over the head of General Waldegrave, who had commanded them in the last campaign; Moyston, of the same rank with Waldegrave, offered to serve under the new Hanoverian Lieutenants-General, if he might be sent to Germany; which well-timed flattery obtained his suit. On his waving Martinico, Pitt carried a list of names to the King, who selected Hopson—a choice not consonant to Mr. Pitt’s practice, who, considering that our ancient officers had grown old on a very small portion of experience, which by no means compensated for the decay of fire and vigour, chose to trust his plans to the alertness and hopes of younger men.
This appeared particularly in the nomination of Wolfe for the enterprise on Quebec. Ambition, activity, industry, passion for the service, were conspicuous in Wolfe. He seemed to breathe for nothing but fame, and lost no moments in qualifying himself to compass his object. He had studied for his purpose, and wrote well. Presumption on himself was necessary to such a character; and he had it. He was formed to execute the designs of such a master as Pitt, till risen to an eminence, whence he might choose to thwart his master. To Wolfe was associated George Townshend,[42] whose proud, and sullen, and contemptuous temper never suffered him to wait for thwarting his superiors till risen to a level with them. He saw everything in an ill-natured and ridiculous light—a sure prevention of ever being seen himself in a great or favourable one. The haughtiness of the Duke of Cumberland, the talents or blemishes of Fox, the ardour of Wolfe, the virtue of Conway, all were alike the objects of Townshend’s spleen and contradiction—but Wolfe was not a man to wave his pre-eminence from fear of caricatures. He felt his superior knowledge and power, and had spirit enough to make Townshend sensible at least of the latter—a confidence in himself that was fortunate for his country: but we must pass to the other events of the year which preceded the decision of that attempt.
Mr. Pitt, on entering upon Administration, had found the nation at the lowest ebb in point of power and reputation. His predecessors, now his coadjutors, wanted genius, spirit, and system. The Fleet had many able officers; but the Army, which, since the resignation of the Duke of Cumberland, had lost sight of discipline, was destitute of Generals in whom either the nation or the soldiery had any confidence. France, who meaned to be feared, was feared heartily; and the heavy debt of the nation, which was above fourscore millions, served as an excuse to those who understood nothing but little temporary expedients to preach up our impossibility of making an effectual stand. They were willing to trust that France would be so good as to ruin us by inches.
Pitt had roused us from this ignoble lethargy: he had asserted that our resources were still prodigious—he found them so in the intrepidity of our troops and navies—but he went farther, and perhaps too far. He staked our revenues with as little management as he played with the lives of the subjects; and as if we could never have another war to wage, or as if he meant, which was impracticable, that his Administration should decide which alone should exist as a nation, Britain or France, he lavished the last treasures of this country with a prodigality beyond example and beyond excuse; yet even that profusion was not so blameable as his negligence. Ignorant of the whole circle of finance, and consequently averse from corresponding with financiers, a plain set of men, who are never to be paid with words instead of figures, he kept aloof from all details, drew magnificent plans, and left others to find the magnificent means. Disdaining, too, to descend into the operations of an office which he did not fill, he affected to throw on the Treasury the execution of measures which he dictated, but for which he thus held himself not responsible. The conduct was artful, new, and grand; and to him proved most advantageous. Secluded from all eyes, his orders were received as oracles; and their success, of consequence, was imputed to his inspiration. Misfortunes and miscarriages fell to the account of the more human agents: corruption and waste were charged on the subordinate priests. They indeed were charmed with this dispensation.
As Mr. Pitt neither granted suits nor received them, Newcastle revelled in a boundless power of appointing agents, commissaries, victuallers, and the whole train of leeches, and even paid his court to Pitt by heaping extravagance on extravagance; for the more money was thrown away, the greater idea Pitt conceived of his system’s grandeur. But none flattered this ostentatious prodigality like the Germans. From the King of Prussia[43] and Prince Ferdinand to the lowest victualler in the camp, all made advantage of English easiness and dissipation. As the Minister was proud of such pensioners, they were not coy in begging his alms. Fox, too, was not wanting to himself during this harvest, to which his office of Paymaster opened so commodious an inlet. Depressed, annihilated as a statesman, he sat silent, indemnifying himself by every opportunity of gain which his rival’s want of economy threw in his way. The larger and more numerous are subsidies, the more troops are in commission, the more are on service abroad, the ampler means has the Paymaster of enriching himself. An unfortunate campaign, or an unpopular peace might shake the Minister’s establishment—but till this vision of expensive glory should be dissipated, Fox was determined to take no part. But thence, from that inattention on one hand, and rapacity on the other, started up those prodigious private fortunes which we have seen suddenly come forth—and thence we remained with a debt of an hundred and forty millions!
The admirers of Mr. Pitt extol the reverberation he gave to our councils, the despondence he banished, the spirit he infused, the conquests he made, the security he affixed to our trade and plantations, the humiliation of France, the glory of Britain carried, under his Administration, to a pitch at which it never had arrived—and all this is exactly true. When they add, that all this could not be purchased too dearly, and that there was no option between this conduct and tame submission to the yoke of France—even this is just in a degree; but a material objection still remains, not depreciating a grain from this bill of merits, which must be gratefully acknowledged by whoever calls himself Englishman—yet very derogatory from Mr. Pitt’s character, as virtually trusted with the revenues, the property of his country. A few plain words will explain my meaning, and comprehend the force of the question. All this was done—but might have been done for many millions less—the next war will state this objection more fully.
Posterity, this is an impartial picture. I am neither dazzled by the blaze of the times in which I have lived, nor, if there are spots in the sun, do I deny that I see them. It is a man I am describing, and one, whose greatness will bear to have his blemishes fairly delivered to you—not from a love of censure in me, but of truth; and because it is history I am writing, not romance. I pursue my subject.
The estimates of the year will show how our expenses increased. When the Ways and Means were to be voted, the disposition of Mr. Pitt, which I have mentioned, appeared; and some other passions. He had taken umbrage at Legge from the time the latter had been associated with him in the testimonials of popularity which they had received together from many counties and corporations, or he might have discovered some of Legge’s subterraneous intrigues. The new-intended tax to answer part of the supplies granted, was destined to fall on sugar. Pitt, who rarely condescended to make use of any instrument for acquiring popularity, was less reserved on this head with regard to Beckford, who was a noisy, good-humoured flatterer, bombast, as became the priest of such an idol, and vulgar and absurd, as was requisite to captivate any idol’s devotees, the mob. On that class in the City, Beckford had much influence. He was pompous in his expense, or rather in his expressions, but he knew his interest, and was attentive to it. His fortune lay chiefly in Jamaica—a tax on sugar touched his vitals. Accompanied by fifty West-Indian merchants, he applied to Legge to divert the new duty; but the measure was taken. He was obliged to have recourse to Pitt, who professed being little in the secret of money-matters; promised the affair should have farther consideration, and that himself would be open to conviction on what he should hear in the debate.
The chiefs of the City had already been acquainted with the tax, and approved it; but Pitt obliged Newcastle and Legge to depart from their plan, though at so late a day, and to shift the new duty upon dry goods in general. Yet when the debate came on, Pitt reproved Legge for having been so dilatory with the taxes; and made an extravagant panegyric on Beckford, who, he said, had done more to support Government than any Minister in England; launched out on his principles, disinterestedness, knowledge of trade, and solidity; and professed he thought him another Sir Josiah Child. The House, who looked on Beckford as a wild, incoherent, superficial buffoon, of whose rhapsodies they were weary, laughed and groaned. Pitt was offended, and repeated his encomium, as the House did their sense of it. He added, that he thought a tax on wine or linens preferable to that on dry goods (which included sugar as part): he wished either had been proposed sooner: now he must sequi deteriora—yet why did he talk of his being consulted? Accident, jumble, and twenty circumstances, had placed him in an odd gap of government—but only for a time—he only desired to be an instrument of government, and the drudge of office. He wished for no power; he had seen what effect it had had on his predecessors!
But the most remarkable part of his speech on that and a following day, at least what was much recollected a few years afterwards,[44] was the commendation he bestowed upon excise, upon Sir Robert Walpole’s plan for it,[45] and upon that Minister. He concluded with declaring, that he should like a tax on hops better than on any commodity that had been mentioned. This, too, was very ill received by the House. Legge, as usual, kissed the rod with much humility—yet many, who knew he deserved to be crushed, did not approve the violent manner in which it was done.
On the Corn Bill, Sir John Philipps reproached Pitt with Hanoverizing. Soame Jenyns, a humorous poet, had indirectly done the same in a simile to ridicule the Tories, whom Pitt was leading towards the Court, and who had already gone so far as to agree to his most extravagant demands for Germany. Pitt was grievously hurt; and it required all the intercession and protection of Lord Hardwicke to save Jenyns from being turned out of the Board of Trade. Pitt was no less complaisant to Lord Hardwicke on a point of higher importance. Lord Denbigh[46] acquainted the House of Lords, that he should move to ask the Judges for their new Act of Habeas Corpus, (which Lord Hardwicke had promised to prepare,) and said he did not doubt but that Lord would second his motion. The Judges were accordingly summoned—but Lord Denbigh told them he had dropped his design. As he professed attachment to Pitt, the inference was obvious.
The Archbishop of Canterbury, who could be obsequious, too, and who was showing great management for the Methodists, so far as to enter into their superstitious prosecution of the bakers for baking on Sundays, was not rigid even on that or still more solemn days, when he looked towards Court. On the general fast he acquainted the King by the Lord Chamberlain, that he had provided a preacher for his Majesty, who would have all proper regard to necessary brevity—but the man happened to preach half an hour—double the time to which the King was accustomed; who complaining that the Archbishop had deceived him, the flattery came to light. The Prelate was not less attentive to paying his court in a point of greater moment. The King, persuaded that his indulgence to and toleration of the Catholics would secure him from their plotting, was constantly averse to every proposition of rigour towards them. Representations of Justices of Peace against their chapels in private houses were always quashed. Of late it had appeared in print, by concurrent testimonies of opposite parties on the controversy with Bower,[47] that a regular mission of Jesuits was established in London. They had attempted or suggested the assassination of the King of Portugal; they were detected and decried in France—Catholic kingdoms—in London no notice was taken of them. The Primate was too much occupied on forcing Protestant bakers to church, and in providing laconic preachers for his master!
Newcastle had now been long enough connected with Pitt to grow jealous of him once more. On a fine speech in the House of Lords, for the importation of Irish cattle, made by the Duke of Bedford, Newcastle commended him extravagantly; and soon after, a connexion between them recommenced by the intervention of Fox and the Duke of Bedford’s creatures. The consequences, however, did not soon appear, except in mutual diffidences of Newcastle and Pitt, the former of whom suspected the latter of designing to break on some popular topic; an opportunity which therefore the new connexion determined not to throw in his way, apprehending the power of his popularity. The jealousy, however, frequently broke out: the instances, trifling as they were, I shall sometimes briefly mention, as several of them led to higher matters.
The Privy Council sitting to hear the case argued of the captures made on the Dutch; Pitt, sensible of the clamour that would be raised, if the prizes were restored, went officiously early to the House of Commons, to mark, by his not being at Council, his taking no part in the decision. Newcastle went thither; but perceiving the politic absence of Pitt, his Grace pretended the chamber was too hot, and retired too. This was followed by the affair of the Judges: on a proposal the last year to exempt them from the new tax on employments, it had been agreed rather to increase their salaries. Legge had promised a Bill for that purpose; and John Campbell,[48] of Calder, a staunch revolutionist, said he would add a motion to convert their commissions during good behaviour into patents for life. Then followed the Debate on the Habeas Corpus, on which, though the opinions of the Judges were divided, they certainly were not very favourable to Mr. Pitt and the friends of the extension. Now when the time was arrived for fixing those salaries, Pitt told Newcastle that the increase had been made to reward the complaisance of the Judges on the Bill of Habeas Corpus, and that it was the largest fee that ever was given. This terrified the Duke so much, that he prevailed on Campbell to drop his intended Motion. The King, too, disapproved it; wishing, when he could, to leave the prerogative as ample as he found it. The Treasury, however, having advanced the salaries, were censured by Lord Denbigh and Lord Temple. Yet when it came before the House, Pitt, though he warmly opposed it in private, did not attend; but his friends, George Grenville and Beckford, attacked the Motion, and a Mr. Coventry told many entertaining stories of the Judges and their rapaciousness on the circuit, and of casual presents that they had converted into standing usages. Charles Yorke defended both the Judges and the measure—the latter with more success than the former: yet as the stories were neither flagrant nor of very recent date, the best apology for the Judges was, that so little could be objected to them. The additional salary was voted by 169 to 39; which occasioned Charles Townshend to say, that the book of Judges had been saved by the book of Numbers.
DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.
London, Henry Colburn, 1846.
Legge, who officially made the Motion, did not escape Pitt’s anger; but he was protected by Newcastle, to whom he had newly attached himself. The first interview passed with such privacy, that they met at Lord Dupplin’s without candles. Yet Newcastle discovered it to Pitt, and others to Lord Bute, which completed the ruin of Legge with both. Lord Bute immediately showed his resentment by excluding Oswald, though a Scot, from the Treasury, because recommended by Legge; and even to Pitt, Lord Bute made use of the name of the Prince of Wales to fortify the exclusion. Legge, however, was indemnified by obtaining the vacant post for his friend Lord North.[49]
These were the most remarkable, and not very interesting events of that session, which concluded with a Message from the King to desire to be enabled to march the Militia out of their several counties on the apprehension of an invasion from France. Notice of such an intention had been received so early as February last. Fifty thousand men were said to be destined for that service, which formerly had been a plan of Marshal Belleisle in the last war, had been communicated to the King of Prussia, and approved of by him. Pitt made a pompous speech on delivery of the Message, and distinguished between the various kinds of fear: this, he said, was a magnanimous fear. The Address in return was still more lofty. Vyner and Cooke added an Address, that his Majesty would quicken such Lords Lieutenant as were dilatory with their Militias—there were several of them; the measure was far from being generally popular. When they did come to march, several country gentlemen would have excused themselves on the season of hay harvest. Pitt answered, that if any such objection were made, he would, move the next session to have the Bill repealed—a dreadful threat to his Tory friends, who, by the silent douceurs of commissions in the Militia, were weaned from their opposition, without a sudden transition to ministerial employment.
The invasion, though it ended in smoke, was very seriously projected, and hung over us for great part of the summer; nor was it radically baffled till the winter following. Immense preparations were made along their coasts of flat-bottomed boats. They even notified their design to the Dutch; but at the same time informing the States, that they did not intend to disturb the established succession, but to punish England for her attempts on their coasts the last year. This notification had the least serious air in the whole transaction, but accorded with those weak councils, which knew not how to conduct any of their operations. We were defenceless at home, and could not assemble above twelve thousand men. Our towns were crowded with French prisoners. They were removed up into the country, and committed to the guard of the Militia. The Earl of Orford,[50] with the Militia of Norfolk, was garrisoned at Portsmouth, whence they addressed the King with offers and promises of service—a zeal somewhat unconstitutional, and indicating how far from impossible it might be to divert this national force to the same purposes as are always reasonably apprehended from a standing Army. In the present case the apprehension was the more pregnant, as the officers of the Militia were chiefly Tory gentlemen.
To ward off or dissipate the invasion, Admiral Rodney[51] was dispatched to the French coast; and arriving off Havre de Grace, he with two bomb-ketches set fire to the town in two or three places, though the fire from the forts was very warm. He threw so prodigious a number of bombs into the place, that he almost melted his own mortars; but the flat-bottomed boats, which were not finished, proved to be out of his reach; and he returned with having done but inconsiderable damage. About the same time advice being received that Monsieur Thurot, with 1500 men under his command, had escaped out of Dunkirk, another battalion was flung into Dover Castle, and two more were ordered into the lines at Chatham—but Thurot was not then sailed.