The French, in reality a good deal astonished at the Prussian-Britannic
Treaty, affected to take it easy: "Treaty for Neutrality of Germany?"
said they: "Very good indeed. Perhaps there are places nearer us, where
our troops can be employed to more advantage!" [Their "Declaration" on
it (Adelung, vii. 613.)]--hinting vocally, as henceforth their silent
procedures, their diligence in the dockyards, moving of troops coastward
and the like, still more clearly did, That an Invasion of England itself
was the thing next to be expected.
England and France are, by this time, alike fiercely determined on War;
but their states of preparation are very different. The French have
War-ships again, not to mention Armies which they always have; some
skilful Admirals withal,--La Gallisonniere, our old Canada friend, is
one, very busy at present;--and mean to try seriously the Question of
Sea-Supremacy once more. If an Invasion did chance to land, the state
of England would be found handy beyond hope! How many fighting regiments
England has, I need not inquire, nor with what strategic virtue they
would go to work;--enough to mention the singular fact (recently true,
and still, I perceive, too like the truth), That of all their regiments,
"only Three are in this Country", or have Colonels even nominated.
Incredible; but certain. And the interesting point is, his Grace of
Newcastle dare not have Colonels, still less higher Officers nominated;
because Royal Highness of Cumberland would have the naming of them, and
they would be enemies to his Grace. [Walpole, _George the Second, _ii.
19 (date, "March 25th, 1755;" and how long after, is not said: but see
Pitt's Speeches, ib., all through 1756, and farther).] In such posture
stands the Envy of surrounding Nations at this moment.
"Hire Hessians," cry they; "hire Hanoverians; if France land on us,
we are undone!"--and continue their Parliamentary Eloquences in a most
distressful manner. "Apply to the Dutch, at any rate, for their 6,000
as per Treaty", cries everybody. Which is done. But the Dutch piteously
wring their hands: "Dare not, your Majesty; how dare we, for France
and our neglected Barrier! Oh, generous Majesty, excuse us!"--and the
generous Majesty has to do it; and leave the Dutch in peace, this time.
Hessians, Hanoverians, after eloquence enough, are at last got sent for,
to guard us against this terrible Invasion: about 10,000 of each kind;
and do land,--the native populations very sulky on them ("We won't
billet you, not we; build huts, and be--!"), with much Parliamentary and
Newspaper Commentary going on, of a distressful nature. "Saturday, 15th
May, 1756, Hessians disembark at Southampton; obliged to pitch Camp in
the neighborhood: Friday, 21st May, the Hanoverians, at Chatham, who hut
themselves Canterbury way;"--and have (what is the sum-total of
their achievements in this Country) a case of shoplifting,
"pocket-handkerchief, across the counter, in open day;" one case (or
what seemed to be one, but was not); ["At Maidstone, 13th Septemher,
1756;" Hanoverian soldier, purchasing a handkerchief, imagines he has
purchased two (not yet clipt asunder), haberdasher and he having no
language in common: _Gentleman's Magazine, _for 1756, pp. 259, 448, &c.;
Walpole, SAEPIUS.] "and the fellow not to be tried by us for it!" which
enrages the constitutional heart. Alas, my heavy-laden constitutional
heart; but what can we do? These drilled louts will guard us, should
this terrible Invasion land. And indeed, about three weeks BEFORE these
louts arrived, the terrible Invasion had declared itself to have
been altogether a feint; and had lifted anchor, quite in the opposite
direction, on an errand we shall hear of soon!
About the same date, I observe, "the first regiment of Footguards
practising the Prussian drill-exercise in Hyde Park;" and hope his Grace
of Newcastle and the Hero of Culloden (immortal Hero, and aiming high in
Politics at this time) will, at least, have fallen upon some method of
getting Colonels nominated. But the wide-weltering chaos of platitudes,
agitated by hysterical imbecilities, regulating England in this great
crisis, fills the constitutional mind with sorrow; and indeed is
definable, once more, as amazing! England is a stubborn Country; but it
was not by procedures of the Cumberland-Newcastle kind that England,
and her Colonies, and Sea-and-Land Kingdoms, was built together; nor by
these, except miracle intervene, that she can stand long against stress!
Looking at the dismal matter from this distance, there is visible to me
in the foggy heart of it one lucent element, and pretty much one only;
the individual named William Pitt, as I have read him: if by miracle
that royal soul could, even for a time, get to something of Kingship
there? Courage; miracles do happen, let us hope!--This is whitherward
the grand Invasion had gone:--
TOULON, 10th APRIL, 1756. La Gallisonniere, our old Canadian friend, a
crooked little man of great faculty, who has been busy in the dockyards
lately, weighs anchor from Toulon; "12 sail of the line, 5 frigates and
above 100 transport-ships;" with the grand Invasion-of-England Armament
on board: 16,000 picked troops, complete in all points, Marechal Duc de
Richelieu commanding. [Adelung, viii. 70.] Weighs anchor; and, singular
to see, steers, not for England, and the Hessian-Hanover Defenders (who
would have been in such excellent time); but direct for Minorca, as the
surer thing! Will seize Minorca; a so-called inexpugnable Possession
of the English,--Key of their Mediterranean Supremacies;--really
inexpugnable enough; but which lies in the usual dilapidated state,
though by chance with a courageous old Governor in it, who will not
surrender quite at once.
APRIL 18th, La Gallisonniere disembarks his Richelieu with a Sixteen
Thousand, unopposed at Port-Mahon, or Fort St. Philip, in Minorca; who
instantly commences Siege there. To the astonishment of England and
his Grace of Newcastle who, except old Governor Blakeney, much in
dilapidation ("wooden platforms rotten," "batteries out of repair," and
so on), have nothing ready for Richelieu in that quarter. The story of
Minorca; and the furious humors and tragic consummations that arose on
it, being still well known, we will give the dates only.
FORT ST. PHILIP, APRIL 18th-MAY 20th. For a month, Richelieu, skilful in
tickling the French troops, has been besieging, in a high and grandiose
way; La Gallisonniere vigilantly cruising; old Blakeney, in spite of
the rotten platforms, vigorously holding out; when--May 19th, La
Gallisonniere descries an English fleet in the distance; indisputably
an English fleet; and clears his decks for a serious Affair just coming.
THURSDAY, 20th MAY, Admiral Byng accordingly (for it is he, son of that
old seaworthy Byng, who once "blew out" a minatory Spanish Fleet and
"an absurd Flame of War" in the Straits of Messina, and was made Lord
Torrington in consequence,--happily now dead)--Admiral Byng does come
on; and gains himself a name badly memorable ever since. Attacks
La Gallisonniere, in a wide-lying, languid, hovering, uncertain
manner:--"Far too weak" he says; "much disprovided, destitute, by
blame of Ministry and of everybody" (though about the strength of La
Gallisonniere, after all);--is almost rather beaten by La Gallisonniere;
does not in the least, beat him to the right degree:--and sheers off:
in the night-time, straight for Gibraltar again. To La Gallisonniere's
surprise, it is said; no doubt to old Blakeney and his poor Garrison's,
left so, to their rotten platforms and their own shifts.
Blakeney and Garrison stood to their guns in a manful manner, for above
a month longer; day after day, week after week, looking over the horizon
for some Byng or some relief appearing, to no purpose! JUNE 14th, there
are three available breaches; the walls, however, are very sheer (a
Fortress hewn in the rock): Richelieu scanning them dubiously, and
battering his best, for about a fortnight more, is ineffectual on
Blakeney.
JUNE 27th, Richelieu, taking his measures well, tickling French honor
well, has determined on storm. Richelieu, giving order of the day,
"Whosoever of you is found drunk shall NOT be of the storm-party" (which
produced such a teetotalism as nothing else had done),--storms, that
night, with extreme audacity. The Place has to capitulate: glorious
victory; honorable defence: and Minorca gone.
And England is risen to a mere smoky whirlwind, of rage, sorrow and
darkness, against Byng and others. Smoky darkness, getting streaked
with dangerous fire. "Tried?" said his Grace of Newcastle to the City
Deputation: "Oh indeed he shall be tried immediately; he shall be hanged
directly!"--assure yourselves of that. [Walpole, ii. 231: Details of the
Siege, ib. 218-225; in _Gentleman's Magazine_, xxvi. 256, 312-313, 358;
in Adelung, vii.; &c. &c.] And Byng's effigy was burnt all over England.
And mobs attempt to burn his Seat and Park; and satires and caricatures
and firebrands are coming out: and the poor Constitutional Country
is bent on applying surgery, if it but know how. Surgery to such
indisputable abominations was certainly desirable. The new Relief
Squadron, which had been despatched by Majesty's Ministry, was too late
for Blakeney, but did bring home a superseded Byng.
SPITHEAD, TUESDAY, 27th JULY, The superseded Byng arrives; is punctually
arrested, on arriving: "Him we will hang directly:--is there anything
else we can try [except, perhaps, it were hanging of ourselves, and our
fine methods of procedure], by way of remedying you?"--War against
France, now a pretty plain thing, had been "declared," 17th May (French
counter-declaring, 9th June): and, under a Duke of Newcastle and a Hero
of Culloden, not even pulling one way, but two ways; and a
Talking-Apparatus full of discords at this time, and pulling who shall
say how many ways,--the prospects of carrying on said War are none of
the best. Lord Loudon, a General without skill, and commanding, as Pitt
declares, "a scroll of Paper hitherto" (a good few thousands marked on
it, and perhaps their Colonels even named), is about going for America;
by no means yet gone, a long way from gone: and, if the Laws of Nature
be suspended--Enough of all that!
KING FRIEDRICH'S ENIGMA GETS MORE AND MORE STRINGENT.
Friedrich's situation, in those fatefully questionable months and for
many past (especially from January 16th to July),--readers must imagine
it, for there is no description possible. In many intricacies Friedrich
has been; but never, I reckon, in any equal to this. Himself certain
what the Two Imperial Women have vowed against him; self and Winterfeld
certain of that sad truth; and all other mortals ready to deny it, and
fly delirious on hint of it, should he venture to act in consequence!
Friedrich's situation is not unimaginable, when (as can now be done by
candid inquirers who will take trouble enough) the one or two internal
facts of it are disengaged from the roaring ocean of clamorous delusions
which then enveloped them to everybody, and are held steadily in view,
said ocean being well run off to the home of it very deep underground.
Lies do fall silent; truth waits to be recognized, not always in
vain. No reader ever will conceive the strangling perplexity of that
situation, now so remote and extinct to us. All I can do is, to set down
what features of it have become indisputable; and leave them as detached
traceries, as fractions of an outline, to coalesce into something of
image where they can.
Winterfeld's opinion was, for some time past, distinct: "Attack them;
since it is certain they only wait to attack us!" But Friedrich would by
no means listen to that. "We must not be the aggressor, my friend; that
would spoil all. Perhaps the English will pacify the Russian CATIN for
me; tie her, with packthreads, bribes and intrigues, from stirring?
Wait, watch!" Fiery Winterfeld, who hates the French, who despises the
Austrians, and thinks the Prussian Army a considerable Fact in Politics,
has great schemes: far too great for a practical Friedrich. "Plunge into
the Austrians with a will: Prussian Soldiery,--can Austrians resist
it? Ruin them, since they are bent on ruining us. Stir up the Hungarian
Protestants; try all things. Home upon our implacable enemies, sword
drawn, scabbard flung away! And the French,--what are the French? Our
King should be Kaiser of Teutschland; and he can, and he may:--the
French would then be quieter!" These things Winterfeld carried in his
head; and comrades have heard them from him over wine. [Retzow, i.
43, &c.] To all which Friedrich, if any whisper of them ever got to
Friedrich, would answer one can guess how.
It is evident, Friedrich had not given up his hope (indeed, for above a
year more, he never did) that England might, by profuse bribery,--"such
the power of bribery in that mad court!"--assuage, overnet with
backstairs packthreads, or in some way compesce the Russian delirium for
him. And England, his sole Ally in the world, still tender of Austria,
and unable to believe what the full intentions of Austria are; England
demands much wariness in his procedures towards Austria; reiterating
always, "Wait, your Majesty! Oh, beware!"--
His own Army, we need not say, is in perfect preparation. The Army--let
us guess, 150,000 regular, or near 200,000 of all arms and kinds
[Archenholtz (i, 8) counts vaguely "160,000" at this date.]--
never was so perfect before or since. Old Captains in it, whom we used
to know, are grayer and wiser; young, whom we heard less of, are grown
veterans of trust. Schwerin, much a Cincinnatus since we last saw
him, has laid down his plough again, a fervid "little Marlborough" of
seventy-two;--and will never see that beautiful Schwerinsburg, and its
thriving woods and farm-fields, any more. Ugly Walrave is not now chief
Engineer; one Balbi, a much prettier man, is. Ugly Walrave (Winterfeld
suspecting and watching him) was found out; convicted of "falsified
accounts," of "sending plans to the Enemy," of who knows all what;--and
sits in Magdeburg (in a thrice-safe prison-cell of his own contriving),
prisoner for life. ["Arrested at Potsdam 12th February, 1748, and after
trial put into the STERN at Magdeburg; sat there till he died, 16th
January, 1773" (_Militalr-Lexikon, _iv. 150-151).] The Old Dessauer
is away, long since; and not the Old alone. Dietrich of Dessau is now
"Guardian to his Nephew," who is a Child left Heir there. Death has been
busy with the Dessauers:--but here is Prince Moritz, "the youngest, more
like his Father than any of them." Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, Moritz
of Dessau, Keith, Duke of Brunswick-Bevern: no one of these people has
been idle, in the ten years past. Least of all, has the Chief Captain of
them,--whose diligence and vigilance in that sphere, latterly, were not
likely to decline!
Friedrich's Army is in the perfection of order. Ready at the hour, for
many months back; but the least motion he makes with it is a subject of
jealousy. Last year, on those Russian advancings and alacrities, he had
marched some Regiments into Pommern, within reach of Preussen, should
the Russians actually try a stroke there: "See!" cried all the world:
"See!" cried the enlightened Russian Public. This year 1756, from
June onwards and earlier, there are still more fatal symptoms, on the
Austrian side: great and evident War-preparations; Magazines forming;
Camps in Bohemia, Moravia; Camp at Konigsgratz, Camp at Prag,--handy
for the Silesian Border. Friedrich knows they have deliberated on their
Pretext for a War, and have fixed on what will do,--some new small
Prussian-Mecklenburg brabble, which there has lately been; paltry enough
recruiting-quarrel, such as often are (and has been settled mutually
some time ago, this one, but is capable of being ripped up again);--and
that, on this cobweb of a pretext, they mean to draw sword when they
like. Russia too has its Pretext ready. And if Friedrich hint of
stirring, England whispers hoarse, England and other friends, "Wait,
your Majesty! Oh, beware!" To keep one's sword at its sharpest, and,
with an easy patient air, one's eyes vigilantly open: this is nearly all
that Friedrich can do, in neighborhood of such portentous imminencies.
He has many critics, near and far;--for instance:--
BERLIN, 31st JULY, 1756, Excellency Valori writes to Versailles: ... "to
give you account of a Conversation I have had, a day or two ago, with
the Prince of Prussia [August Wilhelm, Heir-Apparent], who honors me
with a particular confidence,"--and who appears to be, privately, like
some others, very strong in the Opposition view. "He talked to me of
the present condition of the King his Brother, of his Brother's
apprehensions, of his military arrangements, of the little trust placed
in him by neighbors, of their hostile humor towards him, and of many
other things which this good Prince [little understanding them, as would
appear, or the dangerous secret that lay under them] did not approve
of. The Prince then said,"--listen to what the Prince of Prussia said to
Valori, one of the last days of July, 1756,--
"'There is an Anecdote which continually recurs to me, in the passes we
are got to at present. Putting the case we might be attacked by Russia,
and perhaps by Austria, the late Rothenburg was sent [as readers know],
on the King's part, to Milord Tyrconnel, to know of him what, in such
case, were the helps he might reckon on from France. Milord enumerated
the various helps; and then added [being a blusterous Irishman, sent
hither for his ill tongue]: "Helps enough, you observe, Monsieur; but,
MORBLEU, if you deceive us, you will be squelched (VOUS SEREZ ECRASES)!"
The King my 'Brother was angry enough at hearing such a speech: but,
my dear Marquis,' and the Prince turned full upon me with a face of
inquiry, 'Can the thing actually come true? And do you think it can be
the interest of your Master [and his Scarlet Woman] to abandon us to the
fury of our enemies? Ah, that cursed Convention [Neutrality-Convention
with England]! I would give a finger from my hand that it had never been
concluded. I never approved of it; ask the Duc de Nivernois, he knows
what we said of it together. But how return on our steps? Who would now
trust us?'" This Prince appeared "to be much affected by the King his
Brother's situation [of which he understood as good as nothing], and
agreed that he," the King his Brother, "had well deserved it." [Valori,
ii, 129-131.]
This is not the first example, nor the last, of August Wilhelm's
owning a heedless, good-natured tongue; considerably prone to take
the Opposition side, on light grounds. For which if he found a kind of
solacement and fame in some circles, it was surely at a dear rate!
To his Brother, that bad habit would, most likely, be known; and his
Brother, I suppose, did not speak of it at all; such his Brother's
custom in cases of the kind.--Judicious Valori, by way of answer,
dilated on the peculiar esteem of his Majesty Louis XV. for the Prussian
Majesty,--"so as my Instructions direct me to do;" and we hear no more
of the Prince of Prussia's talk, at this time; but shall in future; and
may conjecture a great deal about the atmosphere Friedrich had now to
live in. A Friedrich undergoing, privately, a great deal of criticism:
"Mad tendency to war; lust of conquest; contempt for his neighbors, for
the opinion of the world;--no end of irrational tendencies:" [Ib. ii.
124-151 ("July 27th-August 21st").] from persons to whom the secret of
his Problem is deeply unknown.
One wise thing the English have done: sent an Excellency Mitchell, a man
of loyalty, of sense and honesty, to be their Resident at Berlin. This
is the noteworthy, not yet much noted, Sir Andrew Mitchell; by far the
best Excellency England ever had in that Court. An Aberdeen Scotchman,
creditable to his Country: hard-headed, sagacious; sceptical of shows;
but capable of recognizing substances withal, and of standing loyal
to them, stubbornly if needful; who grew to a great mutual regard with
Friedrich, and well deserved to do so; constantly about him, during the
next seven years; and whose Letters are among the perennially valuable
Documents on Friedrich's History. [Happily secured in the British
Museum; and now in the most perfect order for consulting (thanks to Sir
F. Madden "and three years' labor" well invested);--should certainly,
and will one day, be read to the bottom, and cleared of their
darknesses, extrinsic and intrinsic (which are considerable) by somebody
competent.]
Mitchell is in Berlin since June 10th. Mitchell, who is on the scene
itself, and looking into Friedrich with his own eyes, finds the
reiterating of that "Beware, your Majesty!" which had been his chief
task hitherto, a more and more questionable thing; and suggests to him
at last: "Plainly ask her Hungarian Majesty, What is your meaning by
those Bohemian Campings?" "Pshaw," answers Friedrich: "Nothing but
some ambiguous answer, perhaps with insult in it!"--nevertheless thinks
better; and determines to do so. [Mitchell Papers.]