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.