I cannot quit this subject without taking notice of the manifesto issued by the Court on the detection of the conspiracy. The spirit of despotic government never defined itself with so much truth, or with less modesty, than in that singular piece: I say nothing of the ridiculous bombast in which it is clothed; but the following maxims of an arbitrary Court ought to be inscribed in our seats of Legislature and of Law, by the side of the humane rules of our Government, that we might know how justly to value the one, and avoid whatever tends to approach it to the other. “Whereas,” says the Portuguese manifesto, “all presumptions of the law are held for so many every way unquestionable truths, and for so many full and uncontrovertible proofs, and lay the person who has them against him, under the incumbency of producing other contrary proofs of such strength and efficacy, as may conclusively destroy them, &c.;” and the next paragraph adds, “Whereas, the law presumes, that he who has been once bad, will be always bad in crimes of the same species with that he has already committed, &c.” Could one imagine that two assertions, so repugnant to all ideas of justice, were produced as instances of condescension and moderation? and yet, in the beginning of the first of these paragraphs, it is maintained, that the presumptions of the law, which condemn the ringleaders or heads of the said conspiracy to be punished thereby with all the rigours of the law, would amply suffice, without the proofs which the Court had obtained. Are Lisbon and London so distant as these notions, and our establishment of juries, and the methods by which the latter are bound to proceed?
While our Army in Germany lay on the defensive, the fatal distempers incident to a camp raged there, and in particular carried off the Duke of Marlborough. The command of the English devolved on Lord George Sackville, between whom and Prince Ferdinand there was by no means any cordiality. Both liked to govern, neither was disposed to be governed. Prince Ferdinand had gained an ascendant over the Duke of Marlborough, and Lord George had lost it; sufficient groundwork for their enmity. Lord Granby, the next in rank to Lord George, was an honest, open-hearted young man, of undaunted spirit, and no capacity; and if he wanted any other recommendation to Prince Ferdinand besides these ductile qualities, he drank as profusely as a German. Lord George’s haughtiness lost this young man, as he had the Duke of Marlborough; Prince Ferdinand knew better how to bend in order to domineer.
In the mean time the King of Prussia, who had performed such shining actions in this campaign, was again reminded by Marshal Daun, that the solid glory of generalship, if not the brilliancy, might be disputed with him. As the King lay in the strong camp of Bautzen, extending to Hochkirchen, covering, as he thought, Misnia, Lusatia, and Brandenburgh, preserving a communication with his brother, and at hand to throw succours into Silesia, Daun, marching in the dead of the night, surprised his right wing, and the first notice of the attack was given in the heart of the Prussian camp. There fell Marshal Keith; and Prince Francis of Brunswick, mounting his horse on the first alarm, lost his head by a cannon ball. In this critical moment the King possessed himself, that is, coolness and ardour: he flew to the thick of the contest, and after leading on his troops four times to the most desperate service, retreated in good order. He lost 7000 men, but scarce any ground or reputation. Surprised in the night, he behaved with as much conduct as if he had made the assault, and retired from the conflict as if only from a disappointment. Twice now had he been defeated by Marshal Daun; both times he appeared greater from his activity and resources. It was still more extraordinary when, after his loss at Hochkirchen, he acted in the style of conqueror. He prevented Daun from penetrating into Silesia, and hastened into that province himself, where Neiss and Cosel were besieged by the Austrian Generals Harsch and Deville. On the King’s approach, both sieges were instantly raised. Daun, the check and illustrator of Frederick’s glory, who, by beating the King, had only precipitated his succour of his own dominions, had no choice left, but to attack Dresden. He led a great army to besiege it, but Schmettau, the Governor, having burned the suburbs and retired into the city, before Daun could begin any regular operations against the place, the King of Prussia was returned from his successes in Silesia, and concluded the campaign with obliging his conqueror to abandon Dresden. After this the several Armies went into winter quarters.
Nov. 23rd the Parliament met. Pitt opened the business of the session with art, seeming to avoid all ostentation of power, while he assumed everything to himself but the disposition of the money. That load he left on the Treasury, and vast, he said, it would be: heaps of millions must be raised,—thus affecting to heighten rather than disguise the expense and the difficulties of our situation; we could not make the same war as the French, or as our ancestors did, for the same money. He painted the distress of France, and coloured high what had been done by ourselves. He called on any who disapproved the measures taken or taking, to speak out, to discuss them, or to propose others then; not to lie in wait in hopes of distresses, and then find fault; though, for himself, he hoped he should never be judged by events. If there were any secret Austrians in the House, instead of dispersing pamphlets, he invited them to speak out. This was particularly levelled at Doddington, who had just published severe reflections on Pitt and the Prussian cause, in a piece called, “Examination of a Letter, attributed to General Blighe.” The Addresses of both Houses were couched in strong terms of panegyric. Prince Ferdinand was commended by name; and Sir Richard Grosvenor, a young converted Tory, who seconded the Address, called Mr. Pitt a blazing star. Other thanks were moved and voted to Admiral Boscawen and General Amherst, for the conquest of Cape Breton, of which Sir John Philips said, he hoped no Ministry would ever rob us. Beckford re-echoed this, and spoke on the superiority we had now attained: all the Duke of Marlborough’s battles had given us no real superiority. Pitt replied, it was too early to decide on what we would or would not restore. The Duke of Marlborough had acquired superiority; the peace of Utrecht gave it away. And then (whether equity or flattery dictated the declaration) he protested, that at the peace he would not give up an iota of our Allies for any British consideration. This, it was pretended, was to satisfy the Landgrave of Hesse, who was afraid of being abandoned. The Duke of Newcastle had early presented an Address from the University of Cambridge, in which that reverend body were by no means penurious of compliments on the Hanoverian victory. It was even resented at Court that the city of London had been more reserved—so much were times changed! a few years before, it was thought lucky if the city did not pass some censure even on success, if it came from that quarter. The victory of Dettingen had been stigmatised as an escape. The prisoners now brought from Louisburg raised the numbers of that nation captive here to twenty-four thousand; and the King of France, to increase the burthen of our expense, withdrew his allowance to them. Admiral Osborn, too, received the thanks of the Commons, for the activity with which he had guarded the Mediterranean, and by preventing succours, contributed to the conquest of Cape Breton. He was a man of singular modesty and bravery, and had lost an eye by the palsy during the hardship of his service; but being allied to Admiral Byng, not the least notice was taken of him by the King.
An army of near 95,000 British troops, and near 7000 foreigners, were voted, and above twelve millions of money raised for the service of the ensuing year; an enormous sum to be furnished by a country no larger than and so indebted as England, but exceeded by the great benefits to which it contributed. I mention these things in gross, and very cursorily; they will be found at large in all our common histories. Were I master of them, I should touch on them with reluctance. The system of money, the great engine on which all modern affairs turn, is become of so complicated a nature, and labours with such ungracious intricacies, that no beauties of style, scarce any clearness of expression, can reconcile it to a reader of common indolence. How such systems would have perplexed the elegance of Roman or Greek historians! what eloquent periods could they have formed, encumbered with three per-cents, discounts, premiums, South-sea annuities, and East India bonds!
Nov. 28th, Dr. Shebbear, author of several letters to the people of England, having been tried for many treasonable expressions in the sixth of them, was sentenced by the King’s Bench to stand in the pillory, to be imprisoned for three years, and then to find security of 1000l. for his good behaviour for seven years following—the latter part of the sentence importing in effect perpetual imprisonment, for both the fortune and character of the man were at the lowest ebb. Though he had been the most open champion of the Jacobite cause, though his libel tended to point out the mischiefs entailed on this country by union with Hanover,[30] and though the bitterest parts of the work were a satire on King William and King George the First, his venom by no means flowed from principle. He had long declared that he would write himself into a place or the pillory, the latter of which proved his fate, as Mr. Pelham, the purchaser of opponents, was dead, and as Shebbear’s pen, though not without force, could not find the way to be hired by the Duke of Newcastle. The most remarkable part of this trial was the Chief Justice Mansfield laying down for law, that satires even on dead Kings were punishable. Whatever obsolete statutes may pronounce, can any thing be more foreign to the genius of English constitution, nay, to the practice even of arbitrary countries? Why are tyrants sacred, when once dead? Adieu! veracity and history, if the King’s Bench is to appreciate your expressions! If the dead are not to be censured, it is only pronouncing history a libel, and the annals of Britain shall grow as civil things as the sermons at St. James’s.
It was a misfortune that Shebbear had gone such enormous lengths, that the warmest friends to the liberty of the press could scarce lament the handle taken to restrain its licentiousness. On the 5th of December the man stood in the pillory, having a footman holding an umbrella to keep off the rain. The mob received him with three huzzas: he had had the confidence to disperse printed bills, inviting the friends of the liberty of the press and of old England to be at Charing Cross by twelve o’clock of that day, to see the British champion. Colonel Robert Brudenel, a hot-headed and foolish young officer, threatened the sheriff for the indulgence allowed to Shebbear, and the King’s Bench afterwards actually punished him. Insignificant as the man, and scandalous as his cause was, such periods are often critical to liberty. The Court victorious, the Minister popular, an arbitrary magistrate, a worthless criminal, officers undiscerning and ready to act any violence when their master is affronted—how little was wanted to roll the machine of Power to any eminence!
The miscarriages at St. Maloes and St. Cas, and the slender advantages accruing even from success at Cherbourg, had a little opened Mr. Pitt’s eyes. He could not help seeing that the slaughter at St. Cas was not very preferable to the bloodless return from Rochfort. He recollected that Conway had offered to be as rash as Blighe, though having at the same time thrown judgment into his plan. If Blighe was punished for exposing his troops, and Mordaunt and Conway for bringing back theirs in safety, the implication was that Mr. Pitt would pardon nothing but victory. These or some such reflections made him change his behaviour to Conway. Both the brothers being in waiting at Kensington, Pitt took Lord Hertford aside, and told him he knew the nicety of the subject on which he was going to speak; that a new expedition being projected to the West Indies, and Hobson appointed to the command, he (Pitt) desired to explain to his Lordship, that no opposition from him had prevented Mr. Conway from being employed on it, as the latter had so earnestly solicited to be. The case had stood thus: one day finding the Duke of Newcastle, Marshal Ligonier, and the King’s Ministers, consulting who should command the expedition, he (Pitt) had said, “Perhaps my presence lays you under difficulties, but I object to nobody; pray consider who is most proper, and I shall be for him.” That he then retired to the other end of the room, while a list was formed of Conway, Cornwallis, Lord Albemarle, Hobson, and Moyston, which Lord Ligonier immediately carried to the King, who chose Hobson. Pitt added to Lord Hertford, “He was sorry things had gone so far; he now thought of Mr. Conway as he had done formerly, though he could not give up his private opinion about Rochfort, yet he should be concerned if Mr. Conway was not employed.”
On these overtures Conway visited Pitt, neglecting nothing that might procure him to be sent on action. He was soon after commissioned to settle with the French a cartel for the exchange of prisoners, put upon the staff, and the following summer commanded in the lines at Chatham—but it went no farther: Pitt, unapt to forget or to forgive, seemed to have made these acknowledgments and reparations to his own character, not to Conway’s; and while Pitt would lend no hand to restore him to service, the Duke of Newcastle, supposing Conway more attached to the Duke of Cumberland than to him, was glad to keep him down, and to let the obstructions be imputed to Pitt. It was natural they should: Pitt took on himself the province of war and foreign operations: the whole domestic he left to Newcastle, and, except from foreign Ministers, would receive neither visits nor court. He lived in the same recluse manner as when a valetudinary patriot, indulging his own unsociable humour, and acquiring popularity, while he kept off friends and attachments. Yet some symptoms now and then appeared of deeper designs. Munchausen having presented an ample bill of extraordinaries for forage, &c., Pitt affected to be much offended at its exorbitance, said the whole should be laid before the House, and the members should be summoned to examine and consider the estimates. On this pretence he sent circular letters to the Tories, whom the Treasury never used to invite to any parliamentary attendance. Nothing could be more artful than this step. Pitt knew himself not agreeable to the Whigs, the whole body of which were cantoned out in attachments to the Dukes of Newcastle, Devonshire, and Bedford, and to Fox. The Scotch were devoted to Argyle, or looked up to Lord Bute. The Tories had no leader. This summons captivated them, and at the same time tied up their civil gratitude from exercising any rigour on the Hanoverian accounts. Nay, whatever was demanded, was granted or allowed with such inconsiderate facility, that Lord Mansfield, to stigmatise Pitt’s measures and profusion, and the Parliament’s condescension, called it The South-sea year.
At the end of the year died Lord Arran, an inoffensive old man, the last male of the illustrious House of Ormond. He was Chancellor of Oxford, and much respected by the Jacobites, who had scarce any partizans left in whom they might venerate even a noble name. Sir George Lee died at the same time.