An expedition contrived by General Sullivan against Rhode Island, which was still occupied by an English corps, had just failed, by reason of a clever manœuvre of Admiral Howe. The weather was bad, and the French admiral put into Boston to repair his damages. The cry of treason was forthwith raised; a riot greeted the Count d'Estaing: all the violence of the democratic and revolutionary spirit seemed let loose against the allies, who had lately been hailed with such warmth. The efforts of Washington, seconded by the Marquis de la Fayette, were employed to re-establish harmony. Borne away by an ill-considered reaction, Congress conceived the idea of attempting, in conjunction with France, a great expedition on Canada. Washington, being tardily consulted, refused his assent; he preserved, in respect of French policy, a prudent mistrust. "Shall we allow," wrote he to the president of Congress, "shall we allow a considerable body of French troops to enter Canada and to take possession of the capital of a province which is attached to France by all the ties of blood, manners, and religion? I fear that this would be to expose that power to a temptation too strong for every government directed by ordinary political maxims. … I believe I can read on the faces of some persons something besides the disinterested zeal of simple allies: I am willfully deceiving myself; perhaps I am too much given over to the fear of some misfortune; but above everything, sir, and putting aside every other consideration, I am averse to increasing the number of our national obligations."
The project against Canada was tacitly abandoned. The Marquis de la Fayette set out for France, ever ardently attached to the American cause, which he was soon to serve efficaciously in Paris, with the government of Louis XVI.
The English had just made a descent on Georgia, had taken possession of Savannah, and were threatening the Carolinas as well as Virginia. The Count d'Estaing was fighting in the Antilles, and had seized St. Vincent and Grenada. The Marquis de Bouillé, Governor of the Windward Islands, had taken Dominique. The English had deprived us of St. Pierre and Miquelon. The French admiral, who had just been recalled, wished to venture a final effort in favor of the Americans. He laid siege to Savannah, and was repulsed after a desperate struggle. The only advantage of the expedition was the deliverance of Rhode Island. Sir Henry Clinton, fearing a surprise on New York, had called back the garrison. Washington had just gained Stony Point, which secured the navigation of the Hudson to the Americans. Spain had at last consented to take part in the war by virtue of the Family Compact, and in order to lend aid to France. Faithful to the monarchical traditions of his house and of his nation, Charles III. had refused to recognize the independence of the United States, or to ally himself with them.
England's situation was becoming grave, and she was inwardly and profoundly uneasy concerning it. The government was weak and unequal to the burden of a struggle which became each day more obstinate; formidable petitions, sustained by the most eloquent voices—by Fox as well as by Burke—demanded an economic reform, necessitated by the ever-increasing expenses of the war. Sudden riots excited in the name of the Protestant religion, which was said to be menaced all at once, stained England and Scotland with blood. In the preceding year a law intended to free the Catholics from some legal disabilities was passed in the Houses almost without opposition. That just measure had excited a certain feeling among the masses. Lord George Gordon, a sincere fanatic whose religious passions disturbed his judgment, had headed a network of Protestants which signed petitions against the modifications effected in the penal laws against Catholics. On the 2d of June, 1780, an immense crowd, assembled at St George's Fields for the presentation of the petition, was moved to the most violent outrages against the peers suspected of being favorable to the Papists. Lord Mansfield entered the House of Lords with his coat torn and his wig in disorder; the Bishop of Lincoln with difficulty saved his life. Soon the tumult spread over the entire town: particular houses were attacked and pillaged; the bank was assailed; moral terror reigned throughout all England, menaced from within and from without, trembling at the idea of a French and Spanish invasion, and incessantly agitated by the howls of a furious populace—"No Popery!" It was a sad and ominous spectacle. "Sixty-six allied ships of line plowed the British Channel; fifty thousand men, assembled in Normandy, were preparing to pounce upon the midland counties. A simple American corsair, Paul Jones, was ravaging the Scotch coasts with impunity. The northern powers, united in Russia and Holland, threatened, arms in hand, to sustain the rights of the neutrals disregarded by the English admiralty courts. Ireland was only waiting a signal to rise; religious strife tore England and Scotland. The authority of Lord North's cabinet was shaken in Parliament as well as in the country. Popular passions carried the day in London, and this great city could be seen for nearly eight days given over to the populace, whose excesses nothing but its own weakness and shame was able to oppose." [Footnote 6]
[Footnote 6: Cornelis de Witt, History of Washington.]
The firmness of the king at length suppressed the riot: twenty-three culprits expiated their crimes with their lives. After long delays, the fruit of legal chicanery, Lord George Gordon was finally acquitted as not having been previously informed of the seditious projects. He pursued unshackled the course of his follies, and towards the end of his life embraced Judaism. The English Parliament had, however, the courage and honor to proudly maintain the principles of religious toleration, so brutally assailed by popular violence. Burke as well as Lord North had defended the bill of 1778. "I am the partisan of universal toleration," exclaimed Fox, "and the foe of that narrow-sightedness which brings so many people to Parliament, not that they may be freed from a burden which overwhelms them, but to entreat the Houses to chain and throttle their fellow-countrymen."
The imposing preparations of the allied powers against England had not effected other results than the Protestant riots fomented by Lord George Gordon. The two French and Spanish fleets had, from the month of August, 1779, effected a junction off the Corogne; they slowly re-entered the channel on the 31st of August. When near the Sorlingue Islands the English fleet, only thirty-seven strong, was caught sight of. The Count de Guichen, who commanded the advance guard, was already manœuvreing with the intention of cutting off the enemy's retreat. Admiral Hardy was too quick for him, and took refuge in the port of Plymouth. Some partial engagements took place; that of the Surveillante with the Quebec was glorious for the Chevalier du Couëdic, who commanded her, but without other result than this honor for the Breton sailor of having alone signalized his name in the great array of the maritime forces of France and Spain. After a hundred and four days of useless traversing of the British Channel, the immense fleet sadly returned to Brest and speedily dispersed. Admiral d'Orvilliers, who had lost his son in a skirmish, took to a religious life. The Count de Guichen upheld the honor of the French flag in a frequently successful series of battles against Admiral Rodney. The latter, crippled with debts, was detained at Paris, without being able to go back to England. "If I was free," said he one day before Marshal Biron, "I would soon have destroyed all the French and Spanish fleets." The marshal immediately paid his debts: "Go, sir," said he, with a boastful generosity to which the eighteenth century was a little subject; "the French wish to gain advantage over their enemies only by their bravery!" The first exploit of Rodney was to beat Admiral Zangara, near Cape St. Vincent, and to revictual Gibraltar, which the allied forces blockaded by land and sea.
However, the campaign of 1779 had been insignificant in America. The state of feeling there was humiliating and sad; Congress had lost its authority while decreasing in public esteem; moral strength appeared weakened; the great springs of national action were slackened in the heart of a war always hanging and dubious; a violent reaction led people's minds to indifference and their hearts towards light pleasures. Washington himself felt his influence growing less along with with the heroic resolution of his fellow-citizens. "God alone can know what will result to us from the extravagance of parties and the general laxity of public virtue," wrote he. "If I were to paint the time and men from what I see and what I know, I would say that they are invaded by sloth, dissipation, and debauchery; that speculation, peculation, and an insatiable thirst for wealth rule all the thoughts of all classes; that party disputes and private quarrels are the great matter of the day, while the interests of an empire, a heavy and ever increasing debt, the ruin of our finances, the depreciation of our paper-money, the lack of credit, all vital questions in fine, scarcely attract attention, and are set aside from day to day as if our affairs were in the most prosperous condition."