Influence of Madame de Pompadour in the Councils of
France--French reverses--Wolfe’s Embarrassments--His Conquest
of Quebec--His death--Perfidy and cruelty of the French
Government--Bankruptcy of France--Meeting of Parliament--Mr.
Pitt’s speech--Lord Temple resigns the Privy Seal, and then
resumes it--Monument raised to Wolfe, and Thanks conferred on
the Officers engaged in the Expedition--Admiral Saunders--Sir
Edward Hawke attacks the French Fleet under Conflans, which
he destroys--Debates on extraordinary Commissions--Proposals
for Peace--Court of the Heir-Apparent--Victorious Officers
rewarded--Warburton made a Bishop--Ireland--Tumults in
Dublin--Irish Parliament.
Prince Ferdinand reaped as little advantage from his success at
Minden as the enemies had from the defeat of the King of Prussia.
The French Army was still superior. Contades had so entirely lost
his credit, that Marshal D’Etrées, against his own inclination, was
sent to share the command, and at least warded off any new disgrace
to his country. Yet so sunk were both their Councils and Commanders
in the estimation of the public, and so much of the national shame
was attributed to the influence of Madame de Pompadour, that a
description of their situation and of the supposed cause was fixed
upon the walls of Versailles, in these words,--
“Bateaux plats à vendre,
Soldats à louer,
Ministres à pendre,
Generaux à louer,
O France, le sexe femelle
Fit toujours ton destin,
Ton bonheur vint d’une Pucelle,
Ton malheur vient d’une catin.”
But the measure of their disgraces was not yet complete. They were
foiled in the East Indies, as in all other parts. Lally, their
General, a man of great parts and impetuosity, but with both the high
and the low talents of an adventurer, was forced to raise the siege,
which he had undertaken, of Madras, and resigned his command in
indignation at the cowardice of his countrymen. Admiral Pococke twice
beat their Fleet. Their invasions on the Ohio cost them the second
empire which they had so artfully and so silently been founding at
the other end of the world.
The joy on those successes, however, was damped by a desponding
letter received from General Wolfe before Quebec, on the 14th of
October. He had found the enterprise infinitely more difficult
than he had conceived, the country strong from every circumstance
of situation: the French had a superior Army, had called in every
Canadian capable of bearing arms: twenty-two ship-loads of provisions
had escaped Admiral Durell, and got into the town; Amherst was not
come up: and, above all, Montcalm, the French General, had shown that
he understood the natural strength of the country, had posted himself
in the most advantageous situation, and was not to be drawn from it
by any stratagem which Wolfe, assisted by the steady co-operation of
our Fleet, could put in practice. Wolfe, himself, was languishing
with the stone, and a complication of disorders, which fatigue and
disappointment had brought upon him. Townshend[70] and other officers
had crossed him in his plans, but he had not yielded. Himself had
been one of the warmest censurers of the miscarried expedition to
Rochfort; and he had received this high command upon the assurance
that no dangers or difficulties should discourage him. His Army
wasted before his eyes by sickness; the season advanced fast which
must put an end to his attempts: he had no choice remaining but in
variety of difficulties. In the most artful terms that could be
framed he left the nation uncertain whether he meaned to prepare an
excuse for desisting, or to claim the melancholy merit of having
sacrificed himself without a prospect of success.
Three days after, an express arrived that Quebec was taken--a
conquest heightened by the preceding gloom and despair. The rapidity
with which our arms had prevailed in every quarter of the globe
made us presume that Canada could not fail of being added to our
acquisitions; and however arduously won, it would have sunk in value,
if the transient cloud that overcast the dawn of this glory had not
made it burst forth with redoubled lustre. The incidents of dramatic
fiction could not be conducted with more address to lead an audience
from despondency to sudden exultation, than accident prepared
to excite the passions of a whole people. They despaired--they
triumphed--and they wept--for Wolfe had fallen in the hour of
victory! Joy, grief, curiosity, astonishment, were painted in every
countenance: the more they inquired, the higher their admiration
rose. Not an incident but was heroic and affecting!
Wolfe, between persuasion of the impracticability, unwillingness to
leave any attempt untried that could be proposed, and worn out with
the anxiety of mind and body, had determined to make one last effort
above the town. He embarked his forces at one in the morning, and
passed the French sentinels in silence, that were posted along the
shore. The current carried them beyond the destined spot. They found
themselves at the foot of a precipice, esteemed so impracticable,
that only a slight guard of one hundred and fifty men defended it.
Had there been a path, the night was too dark to discover it. The
troops, whom nothing could discourage, for these difficulties could
not, pulled themselves and one another up by stumps and boughs of
trees. The guard, hearing a rustling, fired down the precipice
at random, as our men did up into the air: but, terrified by the
strangeness of the attempt, the French picquet fled--all but the
Captain, who, though wounded, would not accept quarter, but fired
at one of our officers at the head of five hundred men. This, as
he staked but a single life, was thought such an unfair war, that,
instead of honouring his desperate valour, our men, to punish him,
cut off his croix de St. Louis before they sent him to the hospital.
Two of our officers, however, signed a certificate of his courage,
lest the French should punish him as corrupted; our enterprise,
unless facilitated by corruption, being deemed impossible to have
taken place.
Day-break discovered our forces in possession of the eminence.
Montcalm could not credit it when reported to him; but it was too
late to doubt when nothing but a battle could save the town. Even
then he held our attempt so desperate, that, being shown the position
of the English, he said, “_Oui, je les vois où ils ne doivent pas
être_.” Forced to quit his entrenchments, he said, “_S’il faut donc
combattre, je vais les écraser_.” He prepared for engagement, after
lining the bushes with detachments of Indians. Our men, according to
orders, reserved their fire with a patience and tranquillity equal
to the resolution they had exerted in clambering the precipice--but
when they gave it, it took place with such terrible slaughter of
the enemy, that half an hour decided the day. The French fled
precipitately; and Montcalm, endeavouring to rally them, was killed
on the spot. General Monckton[71] was wounded early, and obliged to
retire.
The fall of Wolfe was noble indeed. He received a wound in the head,
but covered it from his soldiers with his handkerchief. A second ball
struck him in the belly: that too he dissembled. A third hitting him
in the breast, he sunk under the anguish, and was carried behind the
ranks. Yet, fast as life ebbed out, his whole anxiety centred on the
fortune of the day. He begged to be borne nearer to the action; but
his sight being dimmed by the approach of death, he entreated to be
told what they who supported him saw: he was answered that the enemy
gave ground. He eagerly repeated the question, heard the enemy was
totally routed, cried “I am satisfied”--and expired.
In five days the town capitulated. Wolfe dead, and Monckton disabled,
General Townshend signed the articles. He, and his friends for him,
even attempted to ravish the honour of the conquest from Wolfe.
Townshend’s first letter said nothing in praise of him. In one to
the Speaker of the House of Commons he went so far as indirectly
to assume the glory of the last effort. The words were these, “We
determined on the 13th of September to do what we ought to have done
in the beginning: but in military operations it is never too late
to reform.” In other more private dispatches Townshend was still
more explicit. These he ordered to be shown to the Prince of Wales,
the Duke of Newcastle, and Mr. Pitt. From the first he received
great assurances of countenance--but the passion of gratitude with
which the nation was transported towards Wolfe’s memory overbore all
attempts to lessen his fame. It was not by surviving him that he
could be eclipsed.
Monsieur de Vaudreuil, Governor of the province, had appeared at the
close of the engagement, but, seeing his countrymen defeated, retired
to Montreal. Had he fallen into our hands, our men were determined
to scalp him, he having been the chief and blackest author of the
cruelties exercised on our countrymen. Some of his letters were
taken, in which he explicitly and basely said, that “Peace was the
best time for making war on the English.” Such perfidy, and such
barbarism as was contained in the dispatches of Marshal Belleisle,
mentioned before, affix a stain on a nation which it requires an
age of generous heroism to wash out. The cruelties exercised in the
Palatinate by Louis XIV. conjured up that storm which overwhelmed
the end of his reign, and enjoined the humiliating proposal of
obliging him to concur in dethroning his own grandson. When ambition
is inhuman, and tyranny insolent, they double the bitterness of a
reverse of fortune by having given a precedent of wanton indignities.
The repeated misfortunes of France, and the efforts they had made
without effect to bring the war to some tolerable conclusion, reduced
them at last to a state of bankruptcy; a kind of evidence which even
their future historians will not be able to parry. Defeated Armies
frequently claim the victory, but no nation ever sung _Te Deum_ on
becoming insolvent. Three arrêts were published by the Court of
France in October, suspending for a year the payment of the orders
upon the general receipts of the finances, and allowing five per
cent. on the respective sums as an indemnification. The second, of
the same tenour with respect to the hills of the general farms; and
the third suspending the reimbursement of capitals, as well in regard
to the treasury as to the redemption-fund.
This stoppage[72] gave rise to a stroke of humour in the English
newspapers, which, in the list of bankrupts, inserted these words,
“_Louis le Petit_, of the City of Paris, peace-breaker, dealer, and
chapman.”
Monsieur Thurot, in the meanwhile, who had escaped our Fleet, arrived
at Gottenburgh; it was then supposed with an intention of taking
some Swedish forces on board, and invading some part of Scotland
or Ireland. Mr. Pitt thinking too little attention was paid in
Ireland to this project, wrote to the Duke of Bedford to notify
the suspicions entertained here on that head. The Duke too rashly
communicated that intelligence to the Irish parliament, and his son,
the Marquis of Tavistock, moved them to arm. The consequence was,
that the bankers there took the alarm, and stopped payment.
The English Parliament met October 13th. Beckford, by a high-flown
encomium on Mr. Pitt, paved the way for that Minister to open on his
own and our situation, which he did with great address, seeming to
waive any merit, but stating our success in a manner that excluded
all others from a share in it. He disclaimed particular praise,
and professed his determination of keeping united with the rest
of the Ministers. Fidelity and diligence were all he could boast,
though his bad health perhaps had caused him to relax somewhat of
his application. Not a week, he said, had passed in the summer but
had been a crisis, in which he had not known whether he should be
torn in pieces, or commended, as he was now by Mr. Beckford. That
the more a man was versed in business, the more he found the hand
of Providence everywhere. That success had given us unanimity, not
unanimity success. That for himself, however, he could not have
dared, as he had done, but in these times. Other Ministers had hoped
as well, but had not been circumstanced (not so popular) to dare as
much. (This was handsome to them, yet appropriated the whole merit to
himself.) He thought the stone almost rolled to the top of the hill,
but it might roll back with dreadful repercussion. A weak moment in
the field, or in council, might overturn all; for there was no such
thing as chance; _it was the unaccountable name of Nothing_. All was
Providence, whose favour was to be merited by virtue. Our Allies must
be supported: if one wheel stopped, all might. He had unlearned his
juvenile errors, and thought no longer that England could do all by
itself; (This was an indirect apology for having embraced the German
system; and what followed on the invasion was perhaps an artful
method of soliciting more troops, which once voted, might be sent
abroad)--_who had never been subject to a panic, was not likely to be
terrified now_.
He stated Prince Ferdinand’s Army as containing but 60,000 effective
men: France, the next year, would have an hundred thousand--was
Prince Ferdinand, therefore, as strong as we wished him? He did wish
10,000 more could be found for him; believed France meaned to invade
us, though he should not look on the attempt as dangerous if she did.
He balanced his attention between the landed and the monied interest;
said, he did not prefer the monied men and the eighty millions in the
Funds to the landed interest, though he thought our complaisance for
the former ought to increase as public credit became more delicate.
He ended with a mention of peace. Anybody, he said, could advise him
in war: who could draw such a peace as would please everybody? He
would snatch at the first moment of peace; though he wished he could
leave off at the war. This conclusion seemed to come from his heart,
and perhaps escaped him without design. Though no man knew so well
how to say what he pleased, no man ever knew so little what he was
going to say.[73]
Lord Buckingham moved the Address in the Lords, and flung in much
panegyric on George Townshend; whose friends were now reduced to
compose and publish in his name a letter in praise of Wolfe. The
Ministers had proposed that the Address of the Commons should be
moved by Charles Townshend, the nearness of whose connection would
exclude him from being profuse on his brother: but he refused, on
finding how little incense was intended to be offered to their name.
The unanimity in the Government which Mr. Pitt had advertised was far
from solid. It was not the fault of one man’s vanity that it was not
dissolved. Lord Temple, taking advantage of the adoration which the
nation paid to Mr. Pitt, asked--considering the moment, it may be
said demanded--the Garter; and being refused, abruptly resigned the
Privy Seal. The insult, in effect, was to the nation: it was saying,
“I will have that I will, or here end your victories; Mr. Pitt shall
serve you no more.” It was sacrificing largely to friendship and
gratitude that Mr. Pitt did not reckon himself deeply insulted too.
An ascendant so notified could not be endured by many men. What if
Antony had said to Cæsar, “Abandon the conquest of Gaul, if I am not
allowed to wear a chaplet of laurel!”
Two days afterwards, the King commissioned the Duke of Devonshire to
persuade Lord Temple to resume his place: some civil hints towards a
promise of the Garter were added. Lord Temple finding his resignation
received by the world with due indignation, was not obdurate, and
kissed hands again for the Privy Seal. He pretended to Lord Hertford,
that finding himself ill-treated by the King, he had asked for the
Garter as an indication of returning favour; that his suit being
rejected, he had begged an audience, in which he hoped he had effaced
his Majesty’s ill impressions; and in which audience the King had
three times pressed him to reconsider his resolution of retiring:
that he had entreated Mr. Pitt to resent nothing on his account; and
had insisted on his brothers retaining their places, and continuing
to support the Government, as he should himself: that he was then
going out of town the most contented man in England. This passed
before his resumption of the Seal. To others he denied having asked
the Garter. He obtained it shortly after this violence.
On the 21st, Mr. Pitt moved the House of Commons to order a monument
for General Wolfe; and, in a low and plaintive voice, pronounced a
kind of funeral oration. It was, perhaps, the worst harangue he ever
uttered. His eloquence was too native not to suffer by being crowded
into a ready-prepared mould. The parallels which he drew from Greek
and Roman story did but flatten the pathetic of the topic. Mr. Pitt
himself had done more for Britain than any orator for Rome. Our three
last campaigns had over-run more world than they conquered in a
century--and for the Grecians, their story were a pretty theme if the
town of St. Albans were waging war with that of Brentford. The horror
of the night, the precipice scaled by Wolfe, the empire he with a
handful of men added to England, and the glorious catastrophe of
contentedly terminating life where his fame began--ancient story may
be ransacked, and ostentatious philosophy thrown into the account,
before an episode can be found to rank with Wolfe’s.
Beckford commended General Townshend, and hoped some thanks would
be given to those who completed the conquest. Sir William Williams
enlarged on the praise of Wolfe. Lord North, in a more manly style,
said it was a proof of Mr. Pitt’s abilities, that they sat there
securely discerning rewards, while the French Fleet was sailed from
Brest. For Wolfe he had paid his debt of expectation. Pitt then
moved, in general words, for thanks to the Generals and Admirals;
mentioned them all, particularly Admiral Saunders, whose merit, he
said, had equalled those who have beaten Armadas--“May I anticipate?”
cried he, “those who _will_ beat Armadas!” He expatiated more largely
on Townshend, who, he said, had gone unrequested whither the invited
never came. This was far from being strictly the fact. Townshend
had gone unwillingly; sent even, as was believed, by Mr. Pitt, who
wished to get rid of so troublesome a man. George Grenville put an
end to the day in an affecting manner; mentioning the death of his
younger brother Thomas, who, in the preceding war, had fallen with
expressions of content[74] on a day of victory.
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 1500_l._ for thirty years. Admiral Boscawen was
made General of Marines, and Saunders Lieutenant-General; the former
with 5_l._ a day, the latter with 4_l._ 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
40,000_l._ 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.
They then went to the House of Lords, where Sir Thomas Pendergrass
looking out, they pulled him forth by the nose, and rolled him in
the kennel. In the House they found Lord Farnham taking the oaths on
the death of his father, instead of which they made him take theirs.
There they committed the grossest and most filthy indecencies, placed
an old woman on the Throne, and sent for pipes and tobacco for her.
They next went to the House of Commons, and ordered the clerk to
bring them the journals to burn. He obeyed; but telling them they
would destroy the only records of the glorious year 1755, they were
contented to restore them. But their greatest fury was intended
against Rigby, whom the Duke of Bedford had lately made their Master
of the Rolls. The office there is no post of business: still the
choice of a man so little grave was not decent. The mob prepared a
gallows, and were determined to hang Rigby on it; but, fortunately,
that morning he had gone out of town to ride, and received timely
notice not to return. The Duke of Bedford sent to the Mayor to quell
the tumult, but he excused himself on pretence of there being no
Riot Act in Ireland. The Privy Council was then called together, who
advised sending for a troop of horse. That was executed: the troopers
were ordered not to fire; but riding among the mob with their swords
drawn, slashing and cutting, they at length dispersed the rioters,
after putting to death fifteen or sixteen.
The Duke of Bedford and Rigby, in their letters to England, carefully
concealed the enormity of the outrage. They knew Lord Temple wished
to be Lord Lieutenant; and perhaps suspected, that that ambition
had been the foundation of Mr. Pitt’s expostulations. Those seeds
of jealousy, combining with Rigby’s devotion to Fox, gave rise to
the succeeding animosities between the Duke and Pitt. What was more
remarkable was, that the letters from the Castle acquitted the
Papists of being authors of the sedition; yet, a short time before,
the Duke had quarrelled with the Primate for saying he had no
apprehensions from that quarter. Whatever was pretended, there was
much reason for believing that the insurrection had deeper foundation
than in a mere jealousy of an union with England. Seditious papers
had been printed: two drummers, in the livery of the College, had
commenced the uproar in the Earl of Meath’s Liberties, telling the
people, that if they did not rise by one o’clock, an Act would be
passed to abolish Parliaments in Ireland. So small, too, was the
dislike to the then Government, that one of the rioters skimming away
Lord Tavistock’s[81] hat, his comrades gave him 200 lashes, saying,
Lord Tavistock had not offended them.
But the strongest presumption of the tumult being excited by the
emissaries of France came out afterwards; it appearing that the
commotion began the very day after intelligence was received that
the French fleet was sailed from Brest. Indeed it is now past doubt,
that the Court of France had laid a very extensive plan, meditating
an attack on the three kingdoms at one and the same time. England
was to be invaded from Dunkirk, Ireland by the Brest Fleet, while
Thurot[82] was to fall on the north of Scotland. Nor was Dublin the
sole theatre where confusion was to be spread. Riots were raised at
Cork on the prohibition of exporting Irish cattle. Mr. Pitt wrote
a warm letter to the Duke of Bedford to complain of his supineness
after such repeated intelligence of the designs of France.
That storm weathered, the Castle met with little opposition. Perry,
the most formidable of the minority, they bought off. One man alone
gave them trouble; his name Hutchinson,[83] a lawyer. His views he
owned himself. Being asked, on leaving England, whether he should
addict himself to the Opposition or to the Castle, he replied, “Not
to the Castle, certainly; nothing is to be gotten there”--meaning
that Rigby engrossed everything. Hutchinson had good parts, and
exerted them briskly, annoying Rigby, Malone, and the Courtiers. He
said, Lord George Sackville had parts, but no integrity; Conway,
integrity, but no parts; now, they were governed by one who had
neither. There was more wit than truth in this description. Conway’s
parts, though not brilliant, were solid: for Rigby, though he never
shone in the Irish Parliament, no man wanted parts less--and his
joviality soon made him not only captivate so bacchanalian a capital,
but impress a very durable memory of his festive sociability.
For the Irish Courtiers, it required no masterly pencil to expose
their profligacy. That was the case of Sir Richard Cox. Hutchinson
moved a resolution that the vote against pensions had had effect.
“It is true,” said Sir Richard; “I lost a small pension, and have
got a good place--yet I should not have expected such a Motion from
that gentleman.” “Oh!” replied Hutchinson, “I should have opposed
the Motion in the House, though I have now made it in the Committee;
I only had a mind to try if this Committee would not vote for
anything--yet I cannot believe that gentleman (Sir Richard Cox) is so
very profligate and abandoned as he says himself.”
Finished Oct. 28, 1763.
FOOTNOTES:
[70] George, son of Charles Viscount Townshend, whom he succeeded.
[71] Robert Monckton, second son of the Lord Viscount Galway.
[72] The King, the Princes of the Blood, and the Nobility, sent their
plate to the mint.
[73] In 1766, Lord Chatham, then Privy Seal, in going down to
Parliament with Lord Shelburne, the Secretary of State, in his
carriage, communicated to him some intelligence which it was
important should be known to the Ministry, and equally important
should be concealed from the public. Soon afterwards the coach
stopped at the House of Lords, and Lord Shelburne carelessly asked
Lord Chatham if he meant to speak that day?--“Not after what I have
told you,” was his Lordship’s answer. His companion then observed,
that he did not see why that should prevent him, as the matter
communicated bore no sort of relation to the question coming on in
the House. “True,” said Lord Chatham; “but when my mind is full of a
subject, if once I get on my legs, it is sure to run over.”--E.
[74] He said, “This is preferable to being brought to a
Court-Martial.” There is a monument in Westminster Abbey to his
memory, and a column in the gardens at Stowe.
[75] Robert, brother of Edward and Henry, successively Lords Digby.
He died, senior Admiral of the Royal Navy, in 1814.--E.
[76] Henry Pleydell Dawnay, Viscount Downe.
[77] William, only son of William Pulteney, Earl of Bath. These
three spirited young men were taken off soon after this period. Lord
Downe was killed in Germany, Sir W. Williams at Belleisle, and Lord
Pulteney died in Spain, on his return to England.
[78] Charles Poulet, eldest son of Harry, Duke of Bolton. He died in
1775.
[79] Not a Scot, but son of Sir Simeon Stewart, a Hampshire Knight.
[80] Richard Rigby, favourite Secretary to the Duke of Bedford, Lord
Lieutenant. He was afterwards Paymaster, and died April 8, 1788.
[81] Only son of the Duke of Bedford. (I find 200 lashes in my notes,
but it is not probable that they carried their severity so far for so
trifling an offence.)
[82] The plan was Marshal Belleisle’s. The author of _La Vie Privée
de Louis XV._ says, that Thurot had orders not to commit hostilities
on Scotland, but to invite the Jacobites to join him.--Vol. iii.
That author has collected a great deal of curious matter, as far as
he could be assisted by public materials; but his secret history
is far from being equally authentic, nor does he seem to have
been conversant with persons well informed, and near the scene of
action. He thinks the first cause of the Dauphin’s illness and death
proceeded from his vexation at the expulsion of the Jesuits. The
Dauphin had been bred a bigot; but, before his death, was grown a
free-thinker to a very great latitude, and gave very indubitable
marks of it in the last days of his life. The author was as ignorant
of the motives of the Duc de Choiseul’s opposition to Madame du
Barri, and his consequential fall, which the author imputes to the
Duchesse de Grammont, his sister, being provoked at not being the
King’s mistress herself--a vulgar story. The author seems to be most
versed in the marine, and the great object of his work, to show that
all the successes of the English, in 1759 and 1760, were owing to the
incapacity of all the Ministers and Commanders, and especially to the
cowardice of their Admirals, to the King’s indolence, and to Madame
de Pompadour’s ascendant.
[83] Hely Hutchinson, afterwards Provost of the college at Dublin;
where his conduct was so violent as to draw on him a most acrimonious
inquest, which he repelled by equal adulation to power.
1760.
Une noble hardiesse reveille l’enthousiasme national.
_Siècle d’Alexandre_, p. 177.