Mr. Pitt’s anticipation of Saunders’s renown was prophetic. That Admiral was a pattern of most steady bravery, united with the most unaffected modesty. No man said less or deserved more. Simplicity in his manners, generosity, and good-nature, adorned his genuine love of his country. His services at Quebec had been eminent. Returning thence, he heard that Monsieur Conflans had taken the opportunity of Sir Edward Hawke’s retiring to Gibraltar to refit, and had sailed out of Brest. Saunders, who heard the news at Plymouth, far from thinking he had done enough, turned back instantaneously, and sailed to assist Hawke. His patriotism dictated that step, and would not wait for other orders. He arrived too late—but a moment so embraced could not be accounted lost. Such, too, was the age, that England did not want the addition of a Saunders!
That prudent and active officer, Sir Edward Hawke, had sailed on the first notice to seek the French squadron. He had twenty-three ships, they twenty-one. He came up with them on their own coast; and, before half his Fleet had joined him, began the attack. Conflans at first made a show of fighting, but soon took the part of endeavouring to shelter himself among the rocks, of which that coast is full. It was the 20th of November: the shortness of the day prevented the total demolition of the enemy—but darkness nor a dreadful tempest that ensued could call off Sir Edward from pursuing his blow. The roaring of the elements was redoubled by the thunder from our ships; and both concurred in that scene of horror, to put a period to the Navy and hopes of France. Seven ships of the line got into the river Vilaine, eight more escaped to different ports. Conflans’ own ship and another were run on shore and burnt. One we took. Two of ours were lost in the storm, but the crews saved. Lord Howe, who attacked the Formidable, bore down on her with such violence, that her prow forced in his lower tier of guns. Captain Digby,[75] in the Dunkirk, received the fire of twelve of the enemy’s ships, and lost not a man. Keppel’s was full of water, and he thought it sinking: a sudden squall emptied his ship, but he was informed all his powder was wet—“Then,” said he, “I am sorry I am safe.” They came and told him a small quantity was undamaged—“Very well,” said he; “then attack again.” Not above eight of our ships were engaged in obtaining that decisive victory. The invasion was heard of no more, but in a puny episode that will be mentioned hereafter. While in agitation, it was expected that the people would call for the Duke of Cumberland to command. The Duchess of Bedford told him of the rumour. “I do not believe, madam,” replied the Prince, “that the command will be offered to me, but when no wise man would accept it, and no honest man would refuse it.”
The Parliament in the meantime had sat on the Army for the future year, and a new case had appeared before the Committee of the Commons. Lord Downe,[76] Lord Pulteney,[77] and Sir William Peere Williams, had received general commissions to act as officers, yet their seats in Parliament had not been declared vacant. As this seemed an innovation, and contrary to the usage of the House of Commons, Sir John Philipps desired to have the case explained. Lord Downe, he said, he knew had received a brevet, that if taken prisoner, he might be entitled to the benefit of the cartel. Sir William Williams took upon him to explain it: declared he had no pay, never would accept pay, and had only a commission to raise men, as his zeal had prompted him to do. Mr. Fox asked, how he came then to be employed in any particular regiment? He replied readily, though his usual manner was formal, that he acted only by the regimental book at Northampton. Lord Barrington urged for Lord Downe, who was in Germany, that he acted only as Deputy Lieutenant-Colonel, another person receiving the pay. Favour to those three disinterested young men obtained the connivance of the House, though the case indubitably was unparliamentary. The partiality of the Tories to George Townshend, who, having quitted the service during the command of the Duke of Cumberland, had again lately entered into it, and accepted a regiment, was still more remarkable. As no evasion could except him from the law, his case was not mentioned, and he continued to enjoy his seat without a re-election.
Lord Barrington then opened the state of the Army, which, including 18,000 Militia, would amount to above 175,000 men in British pay. Sir John Philipps again glanced at new regiments and extraordinary commissions. Mr. Pitt avowed the measure for his own, and owned he would have carried it further, if he had been permitted: related how he had been pleased with the behaviour of Colonel Hale, who had brought the news of the conquest of Quebec; and who finding an invasion threatened, and himself at a distance from his regiment, had offered to form a corps of the footmen and chairmen of London, and lead them against the best household troops of France. For the economic part, to push expense was the best economy—for blood, we had lost none; never had been so bloodless a war; not fifteen hundred men had fallen in America. That the city of London had raised more men than Ireland in a twelvemonth. He hoped it would be related to the Irish Parliament that they had been censured in the English. He did justice to the merit of General Amherst, whose campaign, if in Vegetius, all the world would admire: it was in America, and nobody regarded it. He dwelt on Amherst’s letters to the provinces, exhorting, encouraging, and commanding their efforts for the common cause. He painted France in a state of bankruptcy and despondence; and their attempts as rather those of a dying than living monarchy. On this topic he made a fine conclusion—and the battle of Minden was not forgotten.
So much given to glory, something was to be done that might look like moderation. Europe began to take umbrage at our success: but, sailing with prosperity, Mr. Pitt did not trouble himself whether Europe’s voice went along with his achievements. It was the nation that he had made so great, that must be allured to approve his further enterprises. General Yorke, at the Hague, had received some anonymous proposals of peace, and had transmitted them to his father, who communicated them to the Duke of Newcastle. The latter mentioned them to Knyphausen, the Prussian Minister, who, though enjoined to secrecy, revealed them to Lord Holderness. The latter, who had quitted Newcastle for Pitt, instantly carried the intelligence to his new patron. Pitt, enraged to find a kind of negotiation carrying on without the participation of either Secretary, reproached Newcastle in warm terms. The latter threw the blame on General Yorke. Pitt, however, thought it prudent (whether to have the honour of the treaty, or an opportunity of breaking it off) to direct General Yorke, in the name of his own King and of the King of Prussia, to acquaint Prince Lewis of Brunswick, who commanded the forces of Holland, and through him Monsieur D’Affry, the French Minister at the Hague, and the Ministers of Spain and Russia, that, notwithstanding our victories, we were willing to listen to terms of peace, if France would specify her proposals—an overture that ended in air. Nor did any subsequent step of Mr. Pitt speak him cordial to the business of peace. “I have been told,” he said, “that some time before he should have been well contented to bring France on her knees; now he would not rest till he had laid her on her back.”
During these events of éclat, an incident happened that led to a discovery of some of the secret politics of the Heir-Apparent’s Court. A seat for the county of Hampshire was become vacant, the Marquis of Winchester,[78] one of its members, succeeding his father in the Dukedom. Legge, about the same time, had likewise vacated his seat for the same county, a patent-place devolving to him by the death of his brother. Lord Bute took that opportunity of notifying his resentment to Legge, who stood for the county, and carried it against one Stewart,[79] recommended by the Earl. Pitt did not favour Legge; and was as little inclined to favour the views of the Prince’s Court. Their mutual haughtiness and reserve had early impaired the connexion of Lord Bute and Pitt. The Prince’s Court had secrets of their own; nor was Pitt more communicative to the successor of his grandfather’s measures. The affair of Lord George Sackville, who was patronized by the Prince, widened the breach.
Rewards were now bestowed on the meritorious Commanders. Sir Edward Hawke, a man void of ostentation or ambition, was rewarded with an annual pension of 1500l. for thirty years. Admiral Boscawen was made General of Marines, and Saunders Lieutenant-General; the former with 5l. a day, the latter with 4l. A present of twenty thousand pounds was given to Prince Ferdinand by the King, but brought into the House of Commons with other charges of the year. Sir John Philipps, obliquely to make the King’s parsimony remarked, who had made a present to his General at the expense of his people, found fault with the manner, and said that the gift of the House ought to have been transacted in a handsomer manner. Pitt took the advice on himself, and descanted on the merit of the Prince, who had served us for two years without pay; talked on the rewards to the Duke of Marlborough; and quoted Lord Stair for having in one article charged 40,000l. for putting the Austrians in motion. But neither was the present itself blamed, nor could the Prince be said to have served for nothing. Twelve thousand pounds a year were paid to him for his table and stables: he had the Garter, and a pension of two thousand a year on Ireland. If he suffered his German agents to embezzle millions without accounting with him, he had less prudence than the Duke of Marlborough—and yet did not escape similar suspicions.
Towards the close of the year, Nugent was made Vice Treasurer of Ireland, on the death of Potter, and was succeeded in the Treasury by Oswald. Pitt, in contradiction to the House of Manners, who solicited for Dr. Ewer, to Newcastle, who stickled for a Cambridge man, and to the opposition of the Episcopal Bench, made Warburton Bishop of Gloucester; whose doubtful Christianity, whose writings and turbulent arrogance, made him generally obnoxious. Warburton, inquiring of a friend what the Clergy thought of his promotion, and being told how much it offended them, said, “Tell them it was well for their cause that I did not embrace any other profession.”—We must now take a view of another scene.
Mr. Pitt, as I have said, had endeavoured to instil apprehensions of an invasion into the Irish Parliament; at least, to encourage a spirit of raising troops, which might afterwards be applied to other services. It happened at that juncture that there was another point which alarmed the Irish more than the rumours of invasion. This was a jealousy that an union with England was intended, which they regarded as the means of subjecting them further to this Crown. This union was, indeed, a favourite object with Lord Hilsborough. He had hinted such a wish a year or two before in the Parliament of England; and being now in Ireland, let drop expressions of the same tendency. This was no sooner divulged than Dublin was in a flame. The mob grew outrageous, and assembled at the door of the House of Commons. Mr. Rigby[80] went forth and assured them there was no foundation for their jealousy; but his word they would not take. Ponsonby, the Speaker, was at last obliged to go out and pacify them; and Mr. Rigby declared in the House, that if a Bill of Union was brought in, he would vote against it. The tumult then subsided; but Rigby soon after, in consequence of the representations from England, moving that the Lord Lieutenant might on an emergency, such as on an invasion, summon the Parliament to meet without an intervention of forty days, the former suspicions revived, and Rigby’s motion was interpreted as preparatory to some sudden scheme of union before measures could be taken to oppose it. The surmise was absurd; for were any surprise intended, the forms are so many before a Bill can be complete in Ireland, that time can never be wanted to withstand the most expeditious. A Bill must come from the Irish Privy Council to their House of Commons, must return to the Council, must then be transmitted to England and back again before it becomes a law.
But mobs do not reason, nor, if once prepossessed, listen to reason. A dangerous riot ensued; the people rose in all parts of Dublin, and possessing themselves of the avenues of the Parliament, seized on the members, and obliged them to take an oath to be true to their country, and to vote against an union. Many were worse treated. One Rowley, a rich Presbyterian, who had long opposed the Administration, they seized and stripped, and were going to drown, from which they were with difficulty prevented. Lord Inchiquin, who was newly arrived from the country on purpose to oppose the rumoured union, was alike insulted. They pulled off his periwig and Red Riband, and put the oath to him. He had an impediment in his speech, and stuttering, they cried, “Damn you, do you hesitate?” but hearing that his name was O’Brien, their rage was turned into acclamations. They pulled the Bishop of Killala out of his coach, as they did the Lord Chancellor Bowes, obliging him to take their oath; but being seized with a droll scruple that their administering the oath did not give it legality, they stopped the Chief Justice, and made the Chancellor renew the oath before him. Malone was so little in their favour, that though he had taken the oath, one of the ringleaders dipped his fist in the kennel before he would shake hands with him.