Three days later Pulteney brought the matter before the House of

Commons and deprecated the export of 20,000 sacks of flour to France

which had been talked of. Pitt thereupon stated that skilled advice was

being taken as to the advisability of allowing such an export, in view

of the shortness at home, and the gloomy prospects for the harvest.

Wilberforce, Dempster, and Major Scott urged the more generous course

towards our suffering neighbours; but others pointed out that, as the

price of home wheat was rising (it rose seven shillings the bushel on

that very day), any such proposal would enhance that perilous tendency

at home without materially benefiting the French. Even at the present

figures export was forbidden under the existing Corn Law; but Pitt

mentioned that a curious attempt was on foot at Shoreham to depress the

price from forty-eight shillings to forty-four in order to procure the

export of 8,000 sacks of flour to Havre. As the transaction was clearly

fictitious, he had directed the Customs officers to stop the export. On

13th July Grenville, in the absence of Pitt, asked leave to introduce a

Bill for the better ascertaining and regulating the export of corn; and

the House at once agreed.[890]

Such, then, was the beginning of Pitt’s relations to French democracy.

They are certainly to be regretted. His reply to Necker’s request is

icily correct and patriotically insular; and his whole attitude was a

warning to the French not to expect from him any deviation from the

rules of Political Economy. Of course it is unfair to tax him with

blindness in not recognizing the momentous character of the crisis.

No one could foresee the banishment of Necker, the surrender of the

Bastille, on the very day after Grenville’s motion, still less the

stories of the _pacte de famine_, and their hideous finale, the march

of the _dames des halles_ to Versailles, ostensibly to get food.

Nevertheless, the highest statesmanship transcends mere reason. The

greatest of leaders knows instinctively when economic laws and the

needs of his own nation may be set aside for the welfare of humanity.

The gift of 20,000 sacks of flour outright would have been the best

bargain of Pitt’s career. It would have spoken straight to the heart

of France, and brought about a genuine _entente cordiale_. His conduct

was absolutely justified by law. The Commercial Treaty of 1786 with

France had not included the trade in corn or flour, which had long been

subject to strict regulations, and therefore remained so. Moreover, the

Dublin Government did not allow the export of wheat to Great Britain

until home wheat sold at more than thirty shillings the barrel; and

in that year of scarcity, 1789, when the harvest was extremely late,

and the yield uncertain even at the beginning of December, the fiat

went forth from Dublin Castle that no wheat must for the present cross

the Irish Sea to relieve the scarcity in England.[891] If that was the

case between the sister kingdoms, Pitt certainly acted correctly in

forbidding the export of flour to France.

Meanwhile, Anglo-French relations were decidedly cool. The Duke of

Dorset, our ambassador at Paris, reported that it was not desirable for

English visitors to appear in the streets amid the excitements that

followed on the fall of the Bastille; and an agent, named Hippisley,

employed by him, reported that “the prejudices against the English were

very general--the pretext taken being our refusal to aid the French

with grain, and our reception of M. Calonne, which, they contended,

was in deference to the Polignacs.”[892] The Duke of Dorset also

referred to the prevalence of wild rumours as to our efforts to destroy

the French ships and dockyard at Brest, and to foment disorders in

France.[893]

Certainly we were not fortunate in our ambassador. In the year 1786 the

Duke of Dorset had often shown petty touchiness in his relations with

William Eden, besides jealously curbing the superior abilities of his

own subordinate, Daniel Hailes. Now that they were gone, his despatches

were thin and lacking in balance. After the fall of the Bastille, he

wrote to the Duke of Leeds that “the greatest Revolution that we know

of has been effected with, comparatively speaking, ... the loss of very

few lives. From this moment we may consider France as a free country,

the King as a very limited monarch, and the nobility as reduced to a

level with the rest of the nation.” He described the tactful visit of

Louis XVI to Paris on 17th July as the most humiliating step he could

possibly take. “He was actually led in triumph like a tame bear by the

deputies and the city militia.” He added, with an unusual flash of

insight, that the people had not been led by any man or party, “but

merely by the general diffusion of reason and philosophy.”

Nevertheless, though the King’s youngest brother, the Comte d’Artois,

and his reactionary followers were scattered to the four winds, Dorset

had the imprudence to write to congratulate him on his escape. The

letter was intercepted, and the populace at once raised a hue and cry

against the British embassy, it being well known that the Duke was on

the most familiar terms with the highest aristocracy. Dorset thereupon

wrote to the Duke of Leeds urging the need of stating officially the

good will of England for France; and that Minister at once expressed

“the earnest desire of His Majesty and his Ministers to cultivate and

promote that friendship and harmony, which so happily subsists between

the two countries.” Dorset communicated this to the National Assembly

on 3rd August; but that was his last official act. He forthwith

returned to England, presumably because of the indiscretion related

above.

During the next months the duties of the embassy devolved upon Lord

Robert Stephen Fitzgerald (brother of the more famous Lord Edward), who

was charged to do all in his power to cultivate friendly relations with

the French Government, and, for the present at least, to discourage

the visits of English tourists.[894] The new envoy certainly showed

more tact than Dorset; but his despatches give the impression that he

longed for the political reaction which he more than once predicted

as imminent. We may notice here that the Pitt Cabinet showed no sign

of uneasiness as to the safety of its archives at the Paris embassy

until 5th March, when orders were issued to send back to London all the

ciphers and deciphers. The attitude of Pitt towards French affairs was

one of cautious observation.

In the meantime affairs at Paris went rapidly from bad to worse.

The scarcity of ready money, the dearness of bread, and the wild

stories of the so-called _pacte de famine_, for starving the populace

into obedience, whetted class-hatreds, and rendered possible the

extraordinary scenes of 5th and 6th October. As is well known, the

tactlessness of the Queen and courtiers on the one side, and on the

other the intrigues of the Duke of Orleans and his agents, led up

to the weird march of the market-women and rabble of Paris upon

Versailles, which brought the Royal Family captive into the capital.

The absence of the Duke of Orleans being highly desirable, he was sent

to London, ostensibly on a diplomatic mission, but really in order to

get rid of him until affairs should have settled down.[895] The pretext

was found in the troubles in the Austrian Netherlands. As we saw in

the previous chapters, nothing could be more unlike the growingly

democratic movement in France than the revolt of the Flemings and

Brabanters against the anti-national reforms of Joseph II of Austria.

Men so diverse as Burke and Dumouriez discerned that truth. The great

Irishman in a letter to Rivarol termed the Belgian rising a resistance

to innovation;[896] while to the French free-thinker it was _une

révolution théocratique_. Nevertheless, as many Frenchmen cherished the

hope of giving a prince to the Pays Bas, it was thought well to put

forth a feeler London-wards; and Philippe Egalité in fancy saw himself

enthroned at Brussels.

Such a solution would have been highly displeasing both at Westminster

and at Windsor; and there is no proof that the Duke even mentioned it

at Whitehall. In point of fact his mission was never taken seriously.

George III, with characteristic acuteness in all matters relating to

intrigue, had divined the secret motive of his journey and expressed it

in the following hitherto unpublished letter to the Duke of Leeds:

WINDSOR, _Oct. 19, 1789_. 9.55 a.m.[897]

The language held by the Marquis de Luzerne to the Duke of Leeds

on the proposed journey of the Duke of Orleans does not entirely

coincide with the intelligence from Lord Robert Fitzgerald of the

Duke’s message to the States General [_sic_] announcing his absence

as the consequence of a negotiation with which he is to be employed

at this Court. I confess I attribute it to his finding his views

not likely to succeed or some personal uneasiness for his own

safety....

The King argued correctly; and doubtless his suspicions ensured for

the Duke a chilly reception at the Foreign Office. On 22nd or 23rd

October Leeds saw him at his residence in London, but could get from

him no more than polite professions of regard for England. Leeds

thereupon urged Fitzgerald to find out whether the Duke’s “mission”

was a plausible pretext for securing his absence from Paris; to

which our envoy replied that everyone at Paris spoke of him with

indifference or contempt, and that Lafayette had discovered proofs of

his complicity in the outrages of 5th to 6th October, and therefore

had him sent away. On 6th November Fitzgerald added that Louis XVI had

given the Duke no instructions whatever. Leeds had already come to

much the same conclusion. On 30th October he saw Orleans, who merely

suggested a close understanding between England and France, especially

if the Emperor should march an army into his Belgic provinces. Leeds

coolly replied that the desire of Joseph II to crush the revolt was

most natural, and that France would do well to restore order at home

rather than look with apprehension on events beyond her borders. As he

accompanied these remarks with expressions of sincere commiseration for

Louis XVI, Orleans must have seen that the secret of his involuntary

mission was divined. This seems to be the only notice of it in the

British archives. His sinister reputation and his association with

loose company in London soon deprived him of all consequence.

Pitt’s attitude towards the Belgian Question has been already

described. He seems to have given more time and thought to it than

to the French Revolution--a fact which is not strange if we remember

that the future of the Belgic lands was of untold importance for Great

Britain. To secure their independence from France she had many times

poured out her blood and treasure; and Pitt was destined to spend his

last energies in the greatest of those efforts. Moreover, as we have

seen, the European polity was far more seriously menaced by the schemes

of Catharine, Joseph, and Hertzberg than by French reformers; and no

one expected that in a short time the shifting kaleidoscope of European

States would be altogether shivered by blows dealt from Paris. We, who

know the outcome of events, are apt to accuse Pitt of shortsightedness

for not concentrating his attention on France; but the criticism rests

on the cheapest of all kinds of wisdom--wisdom after the event. In

Pitt’s mind the advent of militant democracy aroused neither ecstasy

nor loathing. His royalism had nothing in common with the crusading

zeal of Gustavus III, and therefore did not impel him to rescue the

Bourbons from the troubles which resulted so largely from their

participation in the American War. Here, as everywhere, Pitt allowed

cold reason to rule; and reason suggested that the Bourbons might atone

for that stupendous blunder as best they could. Besides, the experience

of nations, as of families, forbade the interference of an outsider

in domestic quarrels. Apart from its bearing on Belgian affairs, the

French Revolution is scarcely named in Pitt’s correspondence of this

time.

Still more curious is it that the letters of George III to his

Minister contain not a single reference to the Revolution. This

silence respecting events of untold import for all crowned heads is

explicable if we remember that to most men they seemed but the natural

outcome of mismanagement and deficient harvests, which statesmanship

and mother Nature would ere long set right. The proneness of George

to look at everything from his own limited point of view was also at

this time emphasized by ill health and family troubles, which blotted

out weightier topics. Thus, on 1st May 1789, he declared his annoyance

at the sudden return of Prince William from the West Indies--a proof

that his paternal commands would never be obeyed. The Prince, he says,

must now have the same allowance as the Duke of York. “I have,” he

adds, “but too much reason to expect no great comfort but an additional

member to the opposite faction in my own family.” He concludes with

the desire that some arrangement may be made for the Queen and the

princesses in case of his death; for his whole nervous system has

sustained a great shock in the late illness. On 9th June the King again

expresses to Pitt his regret that Prince William declines to return to

sea. His letters during the rest of that exciting year are devoid of

interest if we except the effort to reconcile Pitt and Thurlow referred

to in Chapter XX.

The King’s domestic dronings are varied on 14th January 1790 by an

excited declaration that a frigate must be provided at once in order to

convey Prince Edward, afterwards Duke of Kent, to Gibraltar, as it was

of urgent importance that he should at once leave London.[898] On 3rd

March he records his heartfelt joy at the failure of Fox’s attempt to

procure the repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts; and on the 28th of

that month occurs the first reference to the French Revolution which

I have found in the King’s letters. He then expresses to Pitt regret

that the papers forwarded by the Comte d’Artois (younger brother of

Louis XVI) and his political agent, Calonne, contain so little real

information about the affairs of France. He continues thus: “Mr. Pitt’s

answer should be very civil, and may be very explicit as to no money or

other means having been used to keep up the confusion in France; and

M. de Calonne ought to convey those assurances wherever he thinks they

may be of use.”[899] Readers who have an eye for the ironies of history

may notice that the first of the myriad stories thrown off by the

perfervid Gallic imagination, as to the ubiquitous potency of British

money in creating famines, arming assassins, and trumping up Coalitions

against France, originated with the royalist exiles, who saw in the

French Revolution the first manifestation of the wonder-working power

of “Pitt’s gold.”

That statesman’s opinion concerning the Revolution was first made

known during the debates on the Army Estimates (5th and 9th February

1790). Having inserted in the King’s Speech a reference to the friendly

assurances which he received from all the Powers, and a guarded

statement that the internal troubles in certain states engaged the

King’s “most serious attention,” he was twitted by champions of economy

with a slight increase in the army. True, the total provided for was

only 17,448 officers and men; and part of the increase was due to the

drafting of 200 men to keep order in the infant colony of New South

Wales. But even these figures, which

barely could defy

The arithmetic of babes,

aroused the compunctions of Marsham, Fox, and Pulteney. They complained

that, though most of our Colonial Empire had been lost, yet our army

had been increased by thirteen regiments since the disastrous peace of

1783. Marsham deemed this increase “alarming,” and wholly needless in

view of the paralysis of France. Fox did not repeat the stale platitude

that a standing army was a danger to liberty; for, as he pointed out,

the French soldiers had shown themselves to be good citizens; but he

opposed the present vote on the ground of economy, and because it was

urgently necessary to strengthen the public credit, which could be done

only by reductions of expenditure. He repeated these arguments in the

second debate, that of 9th February.

On both occasions Pitt defended the proposed vote for the army, on

the ground that “a small saving now might prove the worst economy,

by involving us in disputes which might be attended with greater

additional burthens to the kingdom.” In the latter debate he skilfully

used the admission of Fox, that any one who three years before had

foretold the present convulsions in France would have been deemed

a lunatic, in order to enforce the need of preparedness, it being

no excuse for responsible Ministers to exclaim in the midst of

disasters--“Who would have thought of it?” Then, as was his wont, he

opened up wider vistas in this noble but, alas, less prophetic strain:

The present convulsions of France must, sooner or later, terminate

in general harmony and regular order; and though the fortunate

arrangements of such a situation may make her more formidable, it

may also render her less obnoxious as a neighbour.... Whenever the

situation of France shall become restored, it will prove freedom

rightly understood; freedom resulting from good order and good

government; and thus circumstanced France will stand forward as

one of the most brilliant Powers in Europe; she will enjoy just

that kind of liberty which I venerate, and the valuable existence

of which it is my duty, as an Englishman, peculiarly to cherish;

nor can I, under this predicament, regard with envious eyes, an

approximation in neighbouring States to those sentiments which are

the characteristic features of every British subject. Easier, I

will admit with the right hon. gentleman, is it to destroy than

rebuild; and therefore I trust that this universally acknowledged

position will convince gentlemen that they ought, on the present

question, not to relax their exertions for the strength of the

country, but endeavour to regain our former pinnacle of glory, and

to improve, for our security, happiness and aggrandisement, those

precious moments of peace and leisure which are before us.[900]

This statesmanlike utterance was not prompted by considerations of the

mutability of human affairs. The bent of Pitt’s mind was too practical

to be influenced by copy-book maxims. Already, on 21st January, the

first rumours had reached the Foreign Office, which portended serious

friction with Spain. To this question we must devote the following

chapter.

It will be well, however, to conclude this chapter by a few remarks on

the standpoints from which Pitt and Burke viewed the French Revolution.

They were in truth so different as scarcely to admit of comparison.

The judgements of Pitt were those of a statesman of an objective order

of mind, who weighed events carefully, judged men critically, and

was content to change his policy as occasion required. In his view

institutions were made for men, not men for institutions. But his zeal

for Reform was tempered by respect for the verdicts of the past and by

the knowledge that the progress of mankind must be slow if it is to be

sure. He had lost much of his earlier zeal for Parliamentary Reform,

but only because the people had seemed to care little for it, and

were sincerely attached to their time-worn institutions. His attitude

towards this great question during the stormy years of the Jacobin

ascendancy will concern us later; and we need only notice here that,

even at that time of political ferment, he never declared that under

no circumstances would he bring in a Reform Bill, but always left open

a door of hope in that direction when quieter days should return. For

the present he repressed all movements which he considered seditious,

dangerous, or likely to cause divisions; and for that alone he may be

condemned by friends of progress.

From the other side he is censured for his lack of sympathy with

the woes of a distressed King and Queen. Certainly we miss in his

utterances any gush of genuine feeling on a subject which touched the

inmost springs of emotion in our people. True, he had small ground for

liking Louis XVI and his consort. The King of France had dealt the

British Empire a deadly blow in America; and Marie Antoinette was an

inveterate intriguer against England. Even up to the flight to Varennes

at midsummer 1791, she impelled her brother, Leopold II of Austria,

in his anti-English courses, which, as we shall see, cost us so dear.

What was worse, she even accused England of having instigated all the

disorders of which she was the victim. Nevertheless, it would have been

generous to attribute this spitefulness to her narrow training and

bitter sorrows. Pitt would have been a more engaging figure if he had

occasionally shown a spark of that indignation which burnt so fiercely

in Burke. If he had any deep feelings on the subject, he chose to

conceal them, perhaps from a conviction that the expression of them

would do more harm than good.

Well would it have been for the cause of peace if the champion of

French royalism in these islands had obeyed the dictates of reason

which held Pitt tongue-tied. Unfortunately sentiment and emotion at

this time reigned supreme in the great mind of Burke. Every student of

history must admire the generous impulses which were incarnate in the

great Irishman. They lent colour to the products of his imagination,

and they lit up his actions with a glow which makes his blunders more

brilliant than the dull successes of mediocre men. Where sentiment

was a safe guide, there Burke led on with an energy that was not less

conspicuous than his insight. Where critical acumen, mental balance,

and self-restraint were needed, the excess of his qualities often led

him far astray. The true function of such a man is to interpret the

half-felt impulses of the many. If he seek to guide them to definite

solutions, his ardent temperament is apt to overshoot the mark.

Observers noted how Burke’s vehement conduct of the Warren Hastings

affair injured his cause; and many more were soon to discern the same

failing when, with Celtic ardour, he rushed into the complex mazes of

the French Revolution.

Opinions will always differ as to the merits of his remarkable book on

that subject. Its transcendent literary excellences at once ensured

it an influence enjoyed by no other political work of that age; but

we are here concerned with his “Reflections” not as literature, but

as criticism on the French movement. Even in this respect he rightly

gauged some of the weaknesses of Gallic democracy. He was the first of

Britons to discern the peril to the cause of freedom when the brutal

fury of the populace broke forth in the hour of its first triumph,

the surrender of the Bastille, and still more in the Jacqueries that

followed. He also gave eloquent and imperishable expression to the

feeling of respect for all that is venerable, in which the French

reformers were sadly deficient; and, while he bade them save all that

could be saved of their richly-storied past, he truly foretold their

future if they gave rein to their iconoclastic zeal. In my judgement

the passage in which Burke foretells the advent of Bonaparte is grander

even than that immortal rhapsody on the fate of Marie Antoinette and

the passing away of the age of chivalry. The one is the warning of a

prophet; the latter is the wail of a genius.

Equally profound are his warnings to the French enthusiasts of the

danger of applying theories to the infinite complexities of an old

society. To quote some sentences:

The science of constructing a commonwealth, or renovating it, or

reforming it, is, like every other experimental science, not to be

taught _a priori_. Nor is it a short experience that can instruct

us in that practical science, because the real effects of moral

causes are not always immediate.... The science of government

being therefore so practical in itself, and intended for such

practical purposes, a matter which requires experience, and even

more experience than any person can gain in his whole life, however

sagacious and observing he may be, it is with infinite caution

that any man ought to venture upon pulling down an edifice, which

has answered in any tolerable degree for ages the common purposes

of society, or on building it up again, without having models and

patterns of approved utility before his eyes.... The nature of man

is intricate; the objects of society are of the greatest possible

complexity; and therefore no simple disposition or direction of

power can be suitable either to man’s nature, or to the quality

of his affairs. When I hear the simplicity of contrivance aimed

at and boasted of in any new political constitutions, I am at no

loss to decide that the artificers are grossly ignorant of their

trade, or totally negligent of their duty.... The rights of men in

governments are their advantages, and these are often in balances

between differences of good, in compromises sometimes between good

and evil, and sometimes between evil and evil.... I cannot conceive

how any man can have brought himself to that pitch of presumption

to consider his country as nothing but _carte blanche_, upon which

he may scribble whatever he pleases.

We are here reminded of the saying of Dumont, the friend of Mirabeau,

that the fear of being thought officious and interfering is as

universal among the English as is the desire of the French of taking

a prominent part and interfering in everything.[901] This home thrust

by the able Swiss thinker goes far to explain the difference between

the Revolution of 1688 in England and that of a century later in

France. Vanity, love of the sensational, and, a mania for wholesale

reconstruction on geometrical designs largely account for the failures

of the French revolutionists; and Burke’s warnings on these heads were

treated with the petulant disdain characteristic of clever children.

Burke also did good service by pointing out the fundamental differences

between the general overturn in France and the “glorious Revolution”

of 1688 in England. Slipshod comparisons of the two events were then

much in vogue, witness the sermon of Dr. Price in the Old Jewry, on

which Burke conferred the fame of a never ending pillory. The Whigs,

who formed a rapidly thinning tail behind their impetuous leader, were

never tired of discovering historical parallels; and it is possible

that Pitt’s sympathy with Whiggism, stunted but not wholly blighted by

Parliamentary friction, led him to the hopeful prophecy already quoted.

Certainly very many Frenchmen saw themselves in fancy entering on

peaceful paths of progress under a more genial William III. At the time

when Burke was completing his “Reflections,” Wordsworth and his friend

during a Long Vacation tour in France were met with warmest cheer by

_fédérés_ who had shared in the ecstatic Festival of the Federation

(14th July 1790):

And with their swords flourished as if to fight

The saucy air.

At once the Englishmen were greeted as brothers.

We bore a name

Honoured in France, the name of Englishmen,

And hospitably did they give us hail

As their fore-runners in a glorious course.

All this was very pleasing; but it could only end in bitter

estrangement when France was found to be concerned, not with

“preventing a Revolution” (as Burke finely showed that England did in

1688[902]), but in carrying through with unimaginable zeal a political

overturn, along with social, religious, and agrarian changes of the

most drastic kind. This was evident enough even by the summer of

1790. Feudalism had been swept away root and branch; copy-holders

had become freeholders; the old taxes were no more--and none had

definitely taken their place; titles of nobility were abolished; and

the Assembly declared war on the discipline and on one of the dogmas of

the Roman Catholic Church. Well might Burke stand aghast and declare

that this cataclysm had little or nothing in common with the insular,

conservative, and constitutional efforts of Englishmen a century

before.

Strange to say, the defects of his book arose largely from his

underrating the differences between the two movements. In his eagerness

to preserve Englishmen from the risk of hazily sympathizing with

French democracy, he inveighed against the new doctrines with a zeal

that was not always born of knowledge. Forgetting his earlier adage

respecting America--“I will never draw up an indictment against a whole

people”--he sought to convict Frenchmen of fickleness and insanity. He

calls the Revolution “this strange chaos of levity and ferocity, and of

all sorts of crimes jumbled together with all sorts of follies”; and

he even ventured to prophesy that in France learning would be “trodden

down under the hoofs of a swinish multitude.” Coming nearer to facts,

he took the French to task for not repairing their old constitution.

He likened it to a venerable castle in which some of the walls and

all the foundations were still in existence, and added the surprising

statement--“you had the elements of a constitution very nearly as good

as could be wished.”

Here Burke went wholly astray. A constitution, which gave to the King

a power limited only by the occasional protests of the Paris and other

“Parlements”; under which the States-General (at best little more than

an advisory body) had not been summoned for 175 years; which assigned

to the “_Tiers Etat_” only one third of the legislative power and no

control over the executive, though the Commons of France paid nearly

all the taxation; and which promised to perpetuate the old division

into three classes,--such a constitution was merely an interesting

blend of the principles of Feudalism and Absolute Monarchy, but could

never satisfy a nation which had listened to Voltaire and given its

heart to Rousseau. Sir Philip Francis, with his usual incisiveness,

pointed out to Burke that the French could not act as we did in 1688,

for they had no constitution to recur to, much less one that was “very

nearly as good as could be wished.”

In truth, Burke did not know France. Hence his work is of permanent

value only where he praises English methods and launches into wise and

noble generalizations. For his own people it will ever be the political

Book of Proverbs. His indictments against the French people in the main

flew over their heads. On most insufficient knowledge he ventured on

sweeping assertions which displayed the subtlety and wide sweep of his

thought, but convinced only those who did not know the difficulties

besetting the men of 1789. Nevertheless, as readers are influenced far

more by emotion than by close and exact reason, the vast majority were

carried away by the rush of feeling of that mighty soul; and hence

in the view of a philosophic monarchist like Dumont, the publication

of the “Reflections” was destined to be “the salvation of Europe.”

Certainly it was the first noteworthy effort of a literary man to stem

the tide of democracy; and if the writer had advocated a practicable

scheme for saving the French monarchy--say, on the lines of that of

Mirabeau--he would have rendered an inestimable service. As it was,

even the voice of a genius failed to convince the French people that

they must build their new fabric on the lines laid down by Philip the

Fair and Louis the Fourteenth.

While the “Reflections” caused little but irritation in France,

they also worked some harm in England. Readers by the thousand were

captivated by the glamour of Burke’s style, and became forthwith the

sworn foes of the persecutors of Marie Antoinette. The fall of that

erstwhile “morning star, full of life and splendour and joy,” involved

in one common gloom the emotions and the reason of Britons. “It is the

noblest, deepest, most animated and exalted work that I think I have

ever read.” So wrote Fanny Burney. The superlatives are significant.

Thenceforth events in France were viewed through the distorting medium

of a royalist romance. The change was fatal in every way. England,

which heretofore had guardedly sympathized with the French reformers,

now swung round to antagonism; and the French princes who at Turin and

Coblentz were striving to frame a Coalition against their native land,

saw in fancy John Bull as the paymaster of the monarchist league, with

Burke as the chief trumpeter.

In truth the great writer ran some risk of sinking to this level. He

became the unofficial representative of the French princes in this

country, while his son, Richard Burke, proceeded to Coblentz to work on

behalf of that clamorous clique. Memoir after memoir appeared from the

pen of Burke himself. Now it was a protest, purporting to emanate from

George III, against despoiling the French monarchy of all its rights,

and asserting that, if this caution were unheeded, our ambassador

would leave Paris.[903] Now again it was a memorandum of advice to

the Queen of France, urging her to have nothing to do with traitors

(_i.e._, reformers), to maintain an attitude of silent disdain of their

offered help, and, above all, to induce her consort to refuse the new

democratic constitution.[904] Fortunately neither of these documents

went beyond the doors of Burke’s study; but they survive as curious

proofs of his now distracted mood.

It was the misfortune of Burke at this time that majesty of diction

deserted him at Westminster, where his speeches and demeanour bore the

imprint of petulance and sourness. This appeared most painfully in the

famous scene which marked his severance from Fox. It occurred during

the debates on the Canada Bill in the spring of 1791. The preoccupation

of men’s minds with the French constitution, then slowly taking shape,

had been apparent in the course of the session. Fox had often dragged

in the subject to express his warm sympathy with the democrats of

Paris, and now desired to assimilate the Canada Bill somewhat to the

French model. To this Burke offered vehement opposition, out-doing

Fox in iteration. On 6th May, when the subject at issue was Canada,

he defied the rules of the House by speaking solely on France. Six

times he was called to order. Still he went on, in more and more

heated tones, until he crowned his diatribe with the declaration that

the difference between him and his friend involved an end of their

connection; for with his latest words he would exclaim: “Fly from the

French Constitution.” Fox here whispered to him: “There is no loss of

friends.” “Yes,” retorted Burke, “there is a loss of friends; I know

the price of my conduct; I have done my duty at the price of my friend;

our friendship is at an end.” A little later, when Fox rose to reply,

words failed him and tears trickled down his cheeks.[905] No scene in

Parliament in that age produced so profound an emotion. It deepened the

affection felt for that generous statesman; while the once inspiring

figure of Burke now stood forth in the hard and repellent outlines of a

fanatic.

Far better would it have been had he confined himself to the higher

domains of literature, where he was at home. His “Appeal from the New

to the Old Whigs,” which appeared in July 1791, is a great and moving

production; and his less known “Thoughts on French Affairs” (December

1791) is remarkable for its keen insight into the causes that made for

disruption or revolt in the European lands, not even excluding Great

Britain.[906] In this one respect Burke excelled Pitt, just as nervous

apprehension will detect dangers ahead that are hidden from the serene

gaze of an optimist. Wilberforce judged Pitt to be somewhat deficient

in foresight;[907] and we may ascribe this defect to his intense

hopefulness and his lack of close acquaintance with men in this country

and, still more, on the Continent. Burke found that both the Prime

Minister and Grenville had not the slightest fear of the effect of

revolutionary ideas in this Kingdom “either at present or at any time

to come.”[908] Here Burke was the truer prophet. But how could Pitt

sift the wise from the unwise in the copious output of Burke’s mind?

They mingle so closely as to bewilder the closest observer even now,

when the mists of passion enveloping those controversies have partly

cleared away. Sentiment palpitated visibly in all Burke’s utterances;

and the teachings of the philosopher were lost amidst the diatribes of

the partisan.

In fact, it was difficult for a practical statesman to take the orator

seriously. In April 1791 he had furiously attacked Pitt’s Russian

policy; and, as we have seen, the differences between them were more

than political, they were temperamental. No characteristic of Pitt is

more remarkable than the balance of his faculties and the evenness

of his disposition. No defect in Burke’s nature is more patent than

his lack of self-control, to which, rather than to his poverty, I am

inclined to ascribe his exclusion from the Whig Cabinets. Irritability

in small things had long been his bane; and now to the solution of

the greatest problem in modern history he brought a fund of passion

and prejudice equal to that of any of the French _émigrés_ who were

pestering the Courts of Europe to crush the new ideas by force.

Yet, however much Pitt mistrusted Burke the politician, he admired

him as a writer; so at least we gather from a somewhat enigmatical

reference in Wilberforce’s diary. “22nd November (1790): Went to

Wimbledon--Dundas, Lord Chatham, Pitt, Grenville, Ryder. Much talk

about Burke’s book. Lord Chatham, Pitt and I seemed to agree: _contra_,

Grenville and Ryder.”[909] If this entry be correct, Wilberforce and

Grenville were destined soon to change their opinions. It may be that

Pitt and Wilberforce agreed with Burke owing to their dislike of the

iconoclastic methods of the French democrats, and that Grenville’s cold

nature was repelled by the sentimentalism of the book.

In their judgements on the French Revolution Pitt and Burke stood not

far apart. Pitt knew France no better than the great Irishman, and he

distrusted theorizers and rash innovators fully as much, especially

when their symmetrical notions were carried out by mobs. But the two

men differed sharply as to the remedy. Burke came to believe more and

more in armed intervention; Pitt saw in it ruin for French royalists

and turmoil throughout the Continent. Here again the difference was

in the main one of temperament. In Burke’s nature the eagerness and

impulsiveness of the Celt was degenerating into sheer fussiness, which

drew him toward the camp of the _émigrés_ who strutted and plotted at

Turin and Coblentz. Pitt’s coolness and reserve bade him distrust those

loud-tongued fanatics, whose political rhapsodies awoke a sympathetic

chord in no ruler save Gustavus of Sweden. True, Catharine of Russia

shrilly bade them Godspeed; but, as we shall see, her distant blessings

were the outcome of Muscovite diplomacy rather than of royalist zeal.

Pitt and Grenville, who saw other things in life besides the woes

of Marie Antoinette and Jacobin outrages, were resolved not to lead

the van of the monarchical crusade. They might approve Burke’s sage

production, the “Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs,” which won

the warm commendation of the King, as well as of Grenville, Camden,

and Dundas, but they were bent on maintaining strict neutrality on

the French Question. Pitt and his cousin met Burke more than once in

the summer and autumn of 1791; but they kept their thoughts veiled,

probably because Burke was working hard for the royalist league which

the French Princes hoped to form. The general impression produced on

Burke was that the Court of St. James would certainly not act against

the champions of monarchy, but would preserve a benevolent neutrality.

Other observers took a different view. The Russian ambassador,

Vorontzoff, declared that Pitt was a democrat at heart, and kept up

the naval armaments in order to intimidate the royalists, while he

sent Hugh Elliot to Paris to concert measures along with Barnave.[910]

These stories are of value merely because they illustrate Pitt’s

power of holding back his trump cards and thereby rehabilitating the

national prestige, which had recently suffered at the hands of the

Czarina. At such a crisis silence is often a potent weapon. The Arab

“Book of Wisdom” asserts that wisdom consists in nine parts of silence;

while the tenth part is brevity of utterance. If Burke had realized

this truth, his political career would not have ended in comparative

failure. By acting on it, Pitt disconcerted his interviewers and

exasperated his biographers; but he helped to keep peace on the

Continent for nearly a year longer; and he assured that boon to his

country for nearly two years. Had Burke been in power, the coalesced

monarchs would have attacked France in the late summer of 1791.

CHAPTER XXV

THE DISPUTE WITH SPAIN

It is bad economy to tempt an attack, from a state of weakness, and

thus by a miserable saving ultimately incur the hazard of a great

expense.--PITT, _Speech of 9th February 1790_.

On 21st January 1790 there arrived at Whitehall news of an outrage

committed by a Spanish officer on the crew of a British vessel trading

on the dimly known coast which was destined to be called Vancouver

Island. The affair became infinitely more serious on 11th February when

the Spanish ambassador in London, the Marquis del Campo, forwarded to

our Foreign Minister, the Duke of Leeds, an official demand that the

British Government should punish certain interlopers who had ventured

to trade and settle at Nootka Sound on that coastline, which Spain

then considered as part of her Californian domain and for ever closed

to outsiders. This demand produced a state of tension between the two

nations, and subsequent incidents threatened to involve us in war,

not only with Spain, but with her ally, France. As the outcome of

this Nootka Sound dispute was the acquisition by Great Britain of a

coastline of infinite value to Canada and the Empire at large, it will

be well briefly to describe its origin, its settlement, and its bearing

on the French Revolution.

Nootka Sound, a fine natural harbour on the western coast of what is

now called Vancouver Island, was explored and named by Captain Cook in

the course of his memorable voyage of the year 1778. He stayed there

one month, and bought from the Indians a number of furs which proved

to be of great value in the eyes of the Chinese. In the following

years British and Spanish ships touched at Nootka; but owing to the

American War, or to the torpor of mercantile enterprise in those days,

nothing definite came of the discovery until the year 1785. Certain

merchants of the British East India Company trading to China then

resolved to open up trade between that country and the west coast of

America. The commodities sought for the Chinese market were furs and

ginseng, a plant used as a drug by the celestials. In the following

year two small vessels, the “Sea Otter” and the “Nootka,” sailed to the

American coast, and though the former was wrecked, the latter carried

back to China a valuable cargo. The owners replaced her by the “Felice”

and “Iphigenia,” which in 1788 sailed to the same coast. The senior

captain, John Meares, a retired lieutenant of the royal navy, bought a

piece of land at Nootka from the Indian chief, Maquilla, formed a small

settlement, fortified it, and hoisted the British flag. His vessels

then traded along the coast as far as 60° and 45° 30´, that is, beyond

the Columbia River on the south, and as far as Mount St. Elias, in what

is now the United States territory of Alaska, but was then recognized

as belonging to Russia’s sphere of influence.[911]

At Nootka the adventurous pioneers built a sloop of 40 tons, the

“North-West America,” and bought from Indian chiefs the right of

“free and exclusive” trade with their subjects. As autumn drew on

Meares sailed away to China in the “Felice,” and there persuaded

other merchants to combine in order to form an Associated Company for

developing this lucrative commerce. Accordingly, three more ships,

the “Prince of Wales,” “Princess Royal,” and “Argonaut,” set sail for

Nootka in the spring of 1789 under the command of Captain Colnett,

who was to reside at that settlement. It is curious to note thus

early the emergence of the yellow question, for he carried with him

seventy Chinamen who were to settle there under the protection of the

Associated Company--a proof that the occupation of Nootka was to be

permanent.

Strange to say, the Spanish Government, acting through its Viceroy of

Mexico, was then bent on the acquisition of this very same district. By

virtue of the Bull of Pope Alexander VI, and the treaty of Tordesillas

(1494), which speedily followed, Spain claimed exclusive right over

the Pacific Ocean and all the western coast of America as far north as

latitude 60°, beyond which were the Russian settlements in Alaska. In

the year 1774, that is, four years before Cook’s enterprise, a Spanish

captain, Perez, had sailed to Nootka and as far north as latitude 55°.

But no account of his voyage, or of one made in the following year, had

been given to the world. Neither had the Spaniards made any attempt

to trade at Nootka, nor to form a settlement, until they heard of the

efforts of the Russians and English to open up trade with the natives.

Then, indeed, they took alarm; and the Viceroy of Mexico despatched

two vessels, under the command of Captain Martinez, with orders to

warn off intruders, and, in case of armed resistance, to use force in

vindicating the claims of Spain. The Viceroy and Martinez knew nothing

concerning the new developments at Nootka, and had in view the Russians

rather than the British.

Long before the arrival of Colnett, and while the “Iphigenia” alone

was at Nootka, there sailed in, on 5th May, a Spanish frigate, the

“Princesa.” Shortly after she was joined by a sloop. Meares had

previously provided Douglas, the captain of the “Iphigenia,” with

papers proving that she was a Portuguese ship, hailing from Macao,

the Portuguese settlement near Canton. In reality, however, she was a

British ship with a British cargo. Despite the arguments of Douglas,

Martinez soon divined the truth, and took possession of her as well

as the infant settlement of Nootka.[912] A little later he seized the

“North-West America”; and when the “Argonaut” arrived from China, she

too fell into his hands by a treacherous ruse, so Colnett averred.

The “Princess Royal” was the next victim. Fortune certainly favoured

Martinez in having to deal with the British ships as they dropped in

singly; and he played his game with skill and success.

The truth respecting the subsequent occurrences cannot be disentangled

from the false or exaggerated accounts of the disputants. Meares,

Colnett, and Douglas asserted on oath that they had been treacherously

seized and barbarously treated. Martinez declared that his behaviour

throughout was humane and considerate. His statements were backed by

those of certain American traders who were there present; but, as they

for a time made common cause with Martinez, their evidence is not

convincing. The assertions of Meares and Colnett on this point are

antecedently credible, it being the habit of Spain to treat interlopers

as little better than privateers. Martinez compelled his prisoners

(so they asserted) to assist in building a stockade, and subsequently

treated Colnett with so much indignity that he tried to commit suicide,

and Hanson, one of his petty officers, actually did so. The Spanish

commander then traded with the captured vessels, and finally collected

skins estimated by Meares to be worth about 7,500 Spanish dollars.

The British ships and crews were afterwards taken to the Spanish port

of San Blas, where the governor treated them with more consideration,

and, though regarding them virtually as privateers, released them and

submitted the fate of their ships to an official inquiry. The whole

truth of the Nootka incident will probably never be cleared up. What

concerns us here is the impression produced on Pitt by the statements

of Meares. They were set forth in a Memorial, dated London, 30th April

1790. Meares laid stress on the perfidy and cruelty of Martinez, and

estimated his own losses at 500,000 Spanish dollars, apart from the

ruin of the trade along the Nootka coast.[913]

Reports of these events filtered through to London very slowly. Merry,

British _chargé d’affaires_ at Madrid, sent the first vague rumours of

them in a despatch which, as we have seen, reached Whitehall on 21st

January; but the situation became fraught with danger on 11th February,

when the Spanish envoy in London handed in a despatch drawn up in terms

no less haughty than misleading. After presenting a distorted view of

the Nootka incident, del Campo asserted the right of Spain to absolute

sovereignty in those districts “which have been occupied and frequented

by the Spaniards for so many years.” He further requested the British

Government to punish such undertakings as those of Meares and Colnett,

but closed with the statement that the British prisoners had been

liberated through the consideration which the King of Spain had for His

Britannic Majesty.

Compliance with this demand was, of course, out of the question, for

it would have implied the closing of the north-west coast of America

to every flag but the red and yellow ensign of Spain; and the request

for the punishment of British seamen, whose ships had admittedly

been seized, added insult to injury. Pitt and his colleagues as yet

knew very little of the facts of the case. The dimness of the notions

then entertained about that region appears in a phrase used by Robert

Liston, our envoy at Stockholm, that the waters behind Nootka Sound

may be the opening to the long-sought North-West Passage.[914] In any

case the demands of Spain carried with them their own condemnation.

Accordingly, on 26th February, the Duke of Leeds replied to del Campo

that the act of violence committed by Martinez “makes it necessary

henceforth to suspend all discussion of the pretensions set forth in

that letter until a just and adequate satisfaction shall have been made

for a proceeding so injurious to Great Britain.”[915]

The writing here was that of Leeds, but the resolve was the resolve of

Pitt. The original draft of this despatch is in the handwriting of the

Prime Minister. As at so many crises, he took the conduct of affairs

directly into his own hands; and Leeds, though he doubtless agreed with

him, was only his mouthpiece. George III and Pitt were equally desirous

of peace; but on this occasion their determination was immutable.

Satisfaction must be given for the insult, or else war must ensue. In

his despatch of the same date to Merry at Madrid, the Duke stoutly

contested the right of Spain to the exclusive sovereignty, commerce,

and navigation of the coasts north of California, and asserted the

determination of the Court of St. James to protect its subjects trading

in that part of the Pacific Ocean.[916]

When the facts stated on oath by Meares were known by Ministers, they

realized the extreme gravity of the case. Their demand for satisfaction

having been ignored by the Court of Madrid,[917] they determined, at a

Cabinet Council held on the evening of 30th April, to demand “immediate

and adequate satisfaction for the outrages committed by Mr. de

Martinez,” and to back up that demand by the equipment of several ships

of the line. George III agreed with his Ministers, though with some

reluctance; and the press-gang set to work on 4th May to man the new

squadron. The affair came as a bolt from the blue. Most of the sailors

in the Thames were seized; and the prospect of war caused Consols to

drop three per cent. Ministers, however, were justified in taking this

step. After the Spanish note of 20th April they saw that Spain would

not renounce her exclusive right to the Pacific Coast of America save

under pressure of force.[918] The question of peace or war turned on

two things; the relative naval strength of the two Powers, and the

ability of the Court of Madrid to gain an ally, presumably France.

Deferring for the present the question of the Franco-Spanish Alliance,

we notice that on sea Great Britain had a decided superiority over

Spain. Though the Spanish marine was far from weak it could not cope

with the imposing force which the care and energy of Pitt had amassed

at our dockyards. As has been pointed out in Chapter IX, he frequently

inspected the details of construction, and held the Comptroller of the

Navy personally responsible to him for the due progress of new ships

and the efficiency of the fleet. Thanks to his close supervision, and

the large sums voted for the navy, there were at this time no fewer

than ninety-three sail of the line fit for active service.[919]

This gratifying result cannot be ascribed to the First Lord of the

Admiralty. In July 1788, on the resignation of Lord Howe, Pitt raised

his brother, Lord Chatham, to that responsible post, Lord Hood being

added to the Admiralty Board. Chatham was personally popular but proved

to be indolent as an administrator, his unpunctuality earning him the

nickname of “the late Lord Chatham.” That excellent administrator, Sir

Charles Middleton (the future Lord Barham), refused to serve under him

after the reforms recommended by a Commission of Inquiry were shelved,

and in March 1790 resigned office, pointing out, however, that the

Navy and dockyards were never better prepared for war.[920]

Despite the formidable strength of the British navy, Spain might have

entered on a contest with some chance of success. We are apt to forget

that her period of swift decline under Charles IV had only just begun.

His predecessor, Charles III, who died in 1788, had raised the credit

and power of that land almost to the lofty heights of ancient days. He

had helped to humble the might of England in the American war, and his

army and navy were kept in a state of efficiency which enabled Spain to

rank as one of the Great Powers. On his death there came an insidious

change. In place of vigour and even-handed justice there crept in

all the evils linked with sloth and favouritism. The statesman Count

Floridablanca, who had done much to promote the prosperity of Spain,

saw his influence sapped by the intrigues of the minions of the Queen,

who was to be the evil genius of the realm. But in the year 1790 the

dry-rot had not appreciably affected that imposing fabric. Outwardly

Spain appeared to be almost a match for the Island Power. Towards the

end of July 1790, she had at sea thirty-four sail of the line and

sixteen smaller craft.[921]

The pride of two of the most susceptible nations having been touched to

the quick, war seemed inevitable. On 10th May Pitt moved for a vote of

credit of a million sterling for the necessary armament; this was at

once agreed to.[922] Parliament also supported the Ministry by large

majorities whenever the Opposition attempted to censure their action

on points of detail. Several pamphlets appeared inveighing against the

monstrous claims of Spain to the control of the Pacific. There was

a weak point in her armour, and at this Pitt aimed a deadly shaft.

Already the Spaniards of South and Central America were restive under

the galling yoke of their colonial system, which was so contrived as

to enrich officials and privileged merchants in Spain at the expense

of the new lands. The result was that at Quito a pound of iron sold

for 4_s._ 6_d._, and a pound of steel for 6_s._ 9_d._[923] It is not

surprising that the stoutest spirits longed to break loose from a

Government by comparison with which that of England in the United

States had been mildness and wisdom personified.

The mouthpiece of the discontent of the land now called Venezuela was

a man of strongly marked personality, Miranda by name. An exile from

his native city of Caracas, he had spent several years wandering about

Europe, until the events at Paris drew him to that focus of enthusiasm

and effort. There he became acquainted with Brissot and others who

were interested in the emancipation of subject peoples. But now the

prospect of a war between England and Spain attracted him to London.

Pitt invited him to a first interview on the evening of 9th May. The

daring adventurer there unfolded his plan of revolutionizing Spanish

America; and, in case of war, his commanding personality and intrepid

spirit would have stirred up a serious ferment. Here was a formidable

weapon against Spain; and Pitt in the course of several interviews

with Miranda prepared to use it with effect. Hopes ran high in London

that Spain would be crippled by the action of her own sons in the

New World, a fitting return to her for assisting the revolt of the

English colonists a decade before. Auckland, our envoy at The Hague,

wrote on 29th June 1790: “It is believed there are serious troubles

in South America; but that circumstance seems to afford the strongest

reason for avoiding a quarrel with England. It is wonderful to a cool

bystander to see with what infatuated alacrity several sovereigns are

running towards the embarrassments which have brought Louis XVI and his

dominions to the distracted and desperate state in which we now see

them.”[924]

Meanwhile Pitt and Leeds had nailed their colours to the mast in the

despatch of 4th May, which dismissed the reply of the Spanish Court,

dated 20th April, as wholly inadmissible. By way of retort to its claim

of exclusive possession of the seas and coasts north of California

up to latitude 60°, the British Government asserted for its subjects

in those parts the “unquestioned right to a free and undisturbed

enjoyment of the benefits of commerce, navigation, and fishery, and

also to the possession of such establishments as they may form, with

the consent of the natives, in places unoccupied by other European

nations.”[925] In this declaration lies the charter of the future

colony of British Columbia. Alleyne Fitzherbert, who had already had a

creditable record in diplomacy, now proceeded on a special mission to

Madrid to make good these claims, if possible by peaceable means. Among

the twenty-two “Instructions” is one bidding him weaken the Family

Compact of 1761, which bound together the Kings of France and Spain in

close alliance, and point out to the Spanish Ministers the desirability

of substituting for it a friendly understanding with Great Britain both

in political and commercial affairs.

From the outset Pitt and his colleagues realized that the question

of peace or war depended largely on France. Had that Power been in a

condition to fight, the Bourbon States would certainly have contested

England’s claim, and in that case she might have been for ever excluded

from the Pacific Coast of America. Fitzherbert therefore stayed a few

days at Paris (an indisposition afforded a pretext for delay) in order

to fathom those turbid waters. The foreign policy of France was still

nominally in the hands of Montmorin; but that Minister, never strong,

had been almost cowed by events. Fitzherbert found him most gracious,

but he could not explain away the recent order for equipping fourteen

sail of the line at Brest. The most threatening symptom, however, was

the warlike attitude of the royalist side of the National Assembly,

which on 20th May he thus described to the Duke of Leeds:

... I can plainly perceive that many other members of the

aristocratical faction are anxious to avail themselves of the

opportunity to bring on a war, in the hope that the general

distress and confusion which must almost inevitably follow, might

ultimately tend to the re-establishment of the royal authority upon

its former footing. Many strong indications of this design have

appeared in the insidious language which they have held of late,

speaking of Great Britain both in the National Assembly and without

doors. However, their opponents begin to be aware of their drift,

and it seems to have been principally with a view of guarding

against such designs that the latter have chosen the present time

for carrying into execution their plan of transferring the power

of making War and Peace from the Crown to the National Assembly.

It also appears highly probable that, when this question shall

be disposed of, it will be followed up by some motion tending to

invalidate, if not entirely to annul, the Family Compact.

How curiously the wheels of human action act and interact! The outrage

on British sailors on the dimly known coast of Vancouver Island

furnished French democrats with a potent motive for driving another

nail into the coffin of the old monarchy. In any case the right of

Louis XVI to declare war and make peace would have been challenged--for

how can Democracy allow a Sovereign wholly to control its policy at the

most important of all crises--but now the need was overwhelming. If

the old prerogative held good, the rusty link that bound together the

fortunes of France and Spain would compel free Frenchmen to fight their

English neighbours whenever a Spanish captain thought fit to clap in

irons British voyagers to the Pacific.

The question aroused gusts of passion at Paris. Enormous crowds waited

outside the Tuileries while the deputies hard by were debating this

question (16th and 22nd May). To the surprise of the people the royal

prerogative was upheld by Mirabeau. The great orator descanted forcibly

on the need of energy and secrecy in the diplomacy of a great nation,

and reminded those who ascribed all wars to the intrigues of Courts

that popular assemblies had often declared war in a fit of passion.

He remarked that members had all applauded a speaker who advocated

war against England if she attacked Spain, and the expenditure of

their last man and their last crown in reducing London.[926] Few of

Mirabeau’s speeches were more convincing. Nevertheless, on coming forth

from the Chamber he was threatened with violence; and a pamphlet,

“Great Treason of Count Mirabeau” was hawked about the streets. His

reasoning, however, ensured the carrying of a compromise on 22nd May.

The right of declaring war and making peace was vested in the King:

and war was to be decided only by a decree of the Legislature, on “the

formal and necessary proposition of the King, and afterwards sanctioned

by him.”[927] The position was thus left far from clear; and Camille

Desmoulins, referring to the ups and downs of the debate, summarized

it thus: “The question was decided, firstly, in favour of the nation,

secondly, in favour of the King; thirdly, in favour of both.” The

royalists were highly displeased. Their best speaker, Cazalès, declared

that nothing was now left to the monarchy--an exclamation which

probably revealed his disgust at the passing away of the opportunity of

a war with England.

Meanwhile Pitt had worked hard to array his allies, Prussia and

Holland, against Spain. In this he succeeded. In particular, he

offered to the Dutch a considerable subsidy for arming a squadron as

if for war. To this topic he referred in a letter of 18th May 1790,

to Auckland. After informing him that the tellership of the Exchequer

would be reserved for him, or one of his sons, besides a pension of

£2,000 a year on retirement, he continued thus:

I cannot help adding how much satisfaction I have felt in your

account of everything at The Hague. You have done us a most

essential service in bringing the States into a disposition to act

at the present moment with a dispatch so unusual to them. This

messenger carries instructions to you to engage for the expenses

which you have stated to be likely to be incurred for fitting out

ten sail-of-the-line. You will, I am sure, take care that the

expense shall not be swelled beyond what is really necessary;

but, if even a greater sum should be really wanting, we shall not

scruple to give it; and, if you find that they can go on to prepare

a still greater number of ships, it will be so much the better.

I can hardly form at present a conjecture of the event of our

preparations, as I can hardly conceive either that the Spaniards

will ultimately persist, or that they can have gone so far without

a determination not to recede. I hope we shall be able to send an

answer about the commercial treaty very soon.[928]

Pitt’s economy is here seen to be far removed from the pennywise and

pound-foolish kind. If necessary, he was prepared to lavish subsidies

on the Dutch, and on Prussia as well, in order to overawe Spain. The

Duke of Leeds and he were of one mind as to the need of the most

energetic measures. On 2nd June the Duke wrote to him that the Spanish

proposals were quite inadmissible, and that Great Britain could

not possibly accept “any measure short of a direct and unqualified

satisfaction for the insult.” Spain of course would refuse, and

therefore war must follow: it could not be avoided without disgrace

to one side or the other.[929] This rigid attitude prepares us for the

part which the Duke played in the dispute with Russia nine months later.

In this case Pitt agreed with him, apparently because the point at

issue concerned our interests and our honour far more nearly. Indeed

the tone of the Spanish replies left small hope of peace. Count

Floridablanca protested against the British demand that full reparation

must be made to the victims of Captain Martinez, before the Spanish

claims could be considered. “The Spanish Minister,” wrote Merry from

Madrid on 24th May, “is persuaded that we have at all events taken

the resolution of breaking with this country.... Our tone of language

to this Court he represents as insufferable, and while on his part

he still wishes to preserve peace, he seems to think that Spain will

unavoidably be driven to the necessity of defending herself.” Spain, he

adds, was arming twenty-five warships, and had already two squadrons at

sea.[930]

Her pretensions appear in the despatch of the Spanish Governor of

Mexico, dated Mexico, 11th May 1790. After stating that he had released

the “Argonaut” and “Princess Royal” in order to maintain harmony with

England, he remarked that Martinez had “acted agreeably to the laws

and royal ordinances, which not only absolutely prohibit any kind of

navigation, establishment, or commerce of foreigners on our South Sea

Coasts of both Americas, but moreover strictly command they be looked

upon as declared enemies, without considering such treatment a breach

of national faith or contravention of the treaties of peace.” Whence it

followed that Martinez might with impunity have hanged Meares, Colnett,

and their crews on his yardarms. These claims were thus endorsed in the

Spanish circular note of 4th June, which based them on the Treaty of

Utrecht (1713):

It also appears that, in spite of the attempts of some adventurers

and pirates of various nations on the Spanish coasts of the said

South Sea and the adjacent islands, Spain has continued her

possession, recovering what has been endeavoured to be usurped from

her, and performing for this purpose the necessary reconnoitres

and voyages, by the means of which and of repeated acts she has

preserved her dominion, of which she has always established and

left signs, which reach to places the nearest to the Russian

establishments in that part of the world.

The efforts which the Court of Madrid then put forth at St. Petersburg

and Vienna showed its resolve to concert a league against England in

which Denmark was to be included. This scheme, as visionary as the

grandiose dreams of Alberoni, caused our Ministers some concern, until

they found that their Allies, Prussia and Holland, were resolved to

support them. On 20th May Hertzberg assured Ewart, that Prussia would

fulfil her engagements, if Spain pushed matters to extremes.[931]

Nevertheless, for a time everything portended war. Fitzherbert, after

reaching Aranjuez on 10th June, became convinced that Floridablanca,

for all his peaceful assurances, intended to force a rupture at the

first favourable opportunity. The Spanish Court absolutely refused

to grant satisfaction for the injury done to Meares and Colnett,

because that would imply the right of British subjects to be at

Nootka.[932] For the very same reason the Pitt Cabinet pressed its

preliminary demand. It also brushed aside the Spanish pretensions

of sole sovereignty on the Nootka coasts, because British and other

seamen had for some little time traded there--an assertion difficult to

maintain.[933]

The deadlock was therefore complete; and, if Spain could have looked

forward to help either from France, Russia, or Austria, war would

inevitably have ensued. It is of interest to observe that, as the

crisis became acute, Pitt adopted his usual habit of writing the drafts

of the most important despatches; and they were sent off without

alteration. He thus disposed of the suggestion of Floridablanca, that

the whole matter in dispute should be settled by arbitration. “Your

Excellency will not be surprised that they are such as cannot be

adopted. The idea of an arbitration upon a subject of this nature

must be entirely out of the question; and a reservation such as

that contained in the second proposal would render the satisfaction

nugatory, as it would refer to subsequent discussion the very ground on

which that satisfaction is demanded.”[934]

The outlook was not brightened by the suggestion of Floridablanca,

that Spain should keep the whole of the coast from California up to

and including Nootka; that from that inlet northwards to 61°, British

and Spaniards should have conjointly the right of trading and forming

establishments; and that British sailors should enjoy certain fishery

rights in the South Sea on uninhabited islands far removed from Spanish

settlements.[935] These proposals seemed, as they doubtless were, a

device to gain time until France, Austria, or Russia could step forth

and help Spain; and Pitt refused to admit these “chimerical claims

of exclusive sovereignty over the American Continent and the seas

adjacent,” which were to Spain herself “rather matter of useless pride

than of actual advantage.”[936] Towards the end of July more peaceful

counsels prevailed at Madrid, probably because the weak and luxurious

King, Charles IV, disliked war, and dreaded contact with Revolutionary

France. Further it must have transpired that Russia and Austria, owing

to their war with Turkey, were not likely to give more than good wishes

to Spain. Either for these reasons, or because he hoped that delay

would tell in favour of Spain, Floridablanca signed with Fitzherbert

on 24th July a Declaration that Spain would give satisfaction for the

seizure of British vessels and their cargoes at Nootka. On 5th August

Grenville informed the King of this auspicious turn of affairs.[937]

But now, while the Court of Madrid abated its pretensions, French

patriots began to rattle the sword in the scabbard. For reasons which

are hard to fathom, the Spanish request for armed assistance, which

reached Paris on 16th June, was not presented to the National Assembly

until 2nd August. On that day Montmorin informed the deputies of the

continuance of naval preparations in England, and declared that,

unless French aid were accorded to Spain, she would seek an ally

elsewhere. The statement was well calculated to awaken jealousy of

England; and members came to the conclusion that the islanders were

seeking, in the temporary weakness of France, to bully the Court of

Madrid out of its just rights. Consequently the whole matter was

referred to the newly appointed Diplomatic Committee which supervised

the work of the Foreign Office.[938] As this body now practically

controlled French diplomacy, everything became uncertain; and it is not

surprising that Pitt and Leeds declined to disarm now that the question

of peace or war depended on an emotional Assembly and its delegates.

At the head of this new controlling body was Mirabeau. As Reporter of

the Committee he held a commanding position, which was enhanced by his

splendid eloquence, forceful personality, and knowledge of the shady

by-paths of diplomacy. The Report which he presented to the Assembly

on 25th August was, in effect, his. While minimizing the importance of

the Nootka dispute, scoffing at the old diplomacy, and declaring that

Europe would not need any diplomacy when there were neither despots

nor slaves, he yet proposed that, pending the advent of that glorious

age, France must not abrogate her treaties but continue to respect

them until they had been subjected to revision. Further, in place of

the Family Compact of the Kings of France and Spain, he proposed to

substitute a National Compact, based on the needs of the two nations.

On the following day he continued his speech and moved that France

and Spain should form a national treaty in the interests of peace

and conformable to “the principles of justice which will ever form

the policy of the French.” What was far more significant, he himself

added a rider for the immediate armament of forty-five sail of the

line and a proportionate number of smaller vessels. This was carried

immediately.[939]

Seeing that the Assembly passed this vote at the very time when

the terrible mutiny at Nancy was at its height, the feelings of the

deputies must have been of the bellicose order which Mirabeau had

previously deprecated. Despite the pressing need for peace, France

seemed to be heading straight for war. On ordinary grounds her conduct

is inexplicable. Everywhere her troops were clamouring for arrears

of pay; her sailors could scarcely be kept together; and the virtual

bankruptcy of the State was a week later to be quaintly revealed by the

flight of Necker to Switzerland. The King and his Ministers disapproved

the arming of so large a fleet; for Montmorin confessed to Gower his

surprise and regret, adding the comforting assurance that it would

be done as slowly as possible. The mystery deepens when we know that

Floridablanca continued to speak in peaceful tones. On 19th August he

admitted to Fitzherbert that he desired help from Russia and Austria,

but felt complete indifference as to what France might do. Aid from

her, he said, would lead to the introduction of democratic principles,

which he was determined to keep out, if need arose, by a cordon along

the frontier, as one would exclude the plague.[940]

Here probably we have the key to the enigma. The recent action of

Mirabeau (for the arming of the French naval force was his proposal,

not Montmorin’s) rested on the assumption that Spain did not mean

to draw the sword. His agents at the various Courts kept him well

abreast of events, and doubtless he foresaw that Charles IV’s hatred of

democracy would bar the way to an alliance of the two peoples such as

was now projected. Why, then, should Mirabeau have threatened England

with war? His reasons seem to have been partly of a patriotic, partly

of a private, nature. He desired to restore the prestige of the French

monarchy by throwing its sword into the wavering balances of diplomacy.

As to the expense, it was justifiable, if it tended to revive the

national spirit and to quell the mutinous feelings of the sailors.

Work, especially if directed against “the natural enemy,” would be

the best restorative of order at the dockyards, and prevent the

deterioration of the navy. But apart from these motives Mirabeau may

have been swayed by others of a lower kind. His popularity had swiftly

waned during the previous debates. He might revive it by pandering

to the dislike of England now widely prevalent. Manufacturers who

suffered by English competition and Chauvinists who dreaded her

supremacy at sea were joining in a hue and cry against Pitt;[941] and

Mirabeau gained credit by posing as the national champion. Further,

by holding peace and war, as it were, in the folds of his toga, he

enhanced his value in the diplomatic market. His corruptibility was

notorious. Even the sums which he drew from the King were far from

meeting the yawning gulf of his debts.

In the present case there was much to tempt him to political

auctioneering. There were present in Paris two political agents to

whom Pitt had confided the task of humouring the French democrats

and dissolving the Family Compact. These were William Augustus Miles

and Hugh Elliot. The former was a clever but opinionated man, half

statesman, half busy-body, capable of doing good work when kept well in

hand, but apt to take the bit into his teeth and bolt. He had already

looked into the affairs of Brabant, Liége, and Frankfurt for Pitt; and

as early as 4th March the Prime Minister summoned him to Downing Street

for the purpose of sending him to Paris; but not till the middle of

July did he finally entrust to him the task of inducing French deputies

to annul the Family Compact. That this was to be done secretly appears

from the order that he was to have no dealings whatever with the

British Embassy.[942] Unfortunately the letters which passed between

Pitt and Miles at this time have all been destroyed.[943] But we know

from other sources that Miles was charged to prepare the way for an

Anglo-French _entente_. He certainly made overtures to Talleyrand,

Mirabeau, and Lafayette; he was also elected a member of the Jacobins

Club, and worked hard to remove the prejudices against England. These

he found exceedingly strong, all the troubles in the fleet being

ascribed to her. By 11th October he had fulfilled his mission, and

informed George Rose that Pitt might, if he chose, form a close working

alliance with the French nation. About the same time he conceived for

Mirabeau the greatest contempt, and asserted that it was “impossible to

know him and not to despise him.”[944]

Elliot was a man of far higher stamp than Miles. As we have seen, he

had had a distinguished diplomatic career, and might be termed the

saviour of Gustavus III in the acute crisis of 1788. He was brother of

Sir Gilbert Elliot (first Earl of Minto), and of Lady Auckland. In the

summer of 1790 he was home on furlough. On 7th August he wrote from

Beckenham, Auckland’s residence, congratulating Pitt on a favourable

turn in the Spanish dispute. When the outlook once more darkened he

requested leave to go to Paris in order to use his influence with his

friend, Mirabeau, in the interests of peace. Pitt must have referred

the proposal to the King, and received a very guarded reply, dated

Windsor, 26th October. George enjoined great caution, as we had

hitherto held entirely aloof from the French troubles, and must on no

account be mixed up in them. Yet, for the sake of peace, he did not

object to this attempt, so long as it was entirely unofficial; but

he was “not sanguine that Mr. H. Elliot and his French friend” would

succeed where so much caution and delicacy were necessary.[945]

As this affair is wrapped in mystery, and concerns not only the peace

of the world, but also that most interesting personality, Mirabeau, the

draft of an undated letter of Pitt to the King must be quoted in full:

Mr. P. takes the liberty of submitting to your Majesty’s Perusal

two private letters which he received to-day from Paris, one

from Lord Gower, and the other from Mr. H. Elliot. The latter

went thither a short time since, principally from curiosity, but

previous to his departure, mentioned to Mr. P. that he had formerly

happened to be in habits of much intimacy with M. de Mirabeau,

and might probably have an opportunity of learning something from

him respecting the views of the prevailing party in France on the

subject of the discussions with Spain. Mr. P. recommends to him to

be very cautious not to commit anybody by his conversation, but to

endeavour to find out whether there was any chance of making them

see in a just light the nature of our disputes with Spain, and of

thereby preventing or delaying their taking a part in the war, if

it should take place.

The suggestions in Mr. Elliot’s letter seem to furnish matter for

much consideration; possibly there may be found means of improving

this opening to some advantage with a view to preserving or

restoring peace, or to retarding the succours which France might

furnish to Spain.[946]

This letter is undated. George III’s missive of 26th October seems to

be a reply to it or to one very like it. But Pitt’s letter implies the

receipt of Gower’s and Elliot’s despatches of 26th October. I have

found no other despatch from Gower enclosing one from Elliot except of

that date. Four days previously Gower had written to Pitt:

Mr. Elliot’s communication with Mr. de Mirabeau has been more

successful than I imagined it was likely to be: it has procured

an easy means of maintaining a good understanding between His

Majesty’s Ministers and the prevailing party in the National

Assembly, if such a correspondence should be found necessary.[947]

In the letter of 26th October Gower informed Pitt:

Mr. Elliot has brought the prevailing party in this country to act

according to their true interest; and, if they meet with proper

encouragement from you, they seem ready to go any lengths towards

enforcing our claims with regard to Spain; and they are, I believe,

sincere in their desire to promote a real and effectual good

understanding between the two countries. I shall be extremely happy

to co-operate with Mr. Elliot in a negotiation which appears to me

so desirable.[948]

The words “proper encouragement” _donnent furieusement à penser_.

Elliot in a long letter of 26th October, recounted his interview with

a deputation from the Diplomatic Committee, and his success in winning

it over to the British side. In the former of two paragraphs, which

are omitted by Earl Stanhope,[949] Elliot describes the promise given

him by the Committee, that, even if Spain went to war, and formally

demanded the aid of France, such aid would not be forthcoming until

the British case had been fully investigated. The second of the two

passages deserves quotation in full. It occurs near the end of the

letter:

What has taken place in my more intimate conversations with

individuals cannot be committed to paper. But I have every reason

to believe that I am more master of the secret springs of action

here than anybody else could have been. Everything I have either

said or done has always been previously concerted and has ever

answered my most sanguine expectations.... I am inclined to believe

that, after the disturbances at Brest are known at Madrid, the

Spaniards will make peace rather than expose their fleets to any

junction with French ships.[950]

The hints here given imply that Mirabeau, and probably other patriots

as well, accepted British money, but both our envoys were discreet

enough to give few details in writing. It is quite probable that

Mirabeau first accepted Spanish gold for procuring the vote for the

arming of forty-five French sail of the line, and then accepted an

equivalent sum from Miles or Elliot for the decree which rendered that

step innocuous. His control over the Assembly was scarcely less than

Montmorin’s;[951] and that nervous Minister would certainly welcome

a course of action which enhanced the prestige of France, and yet

averted all risk of war. Nevertheless, Pitt did not set much store

by the help of Mirabeau. He decided to bring the whole dispute to an

immediate issue, without waiting for the issue of the golden proposals

of Elliot and Miles. Possibly he heard from other sources that France

would do no more than rattle the sword in the scabbard; or else he was

emboldened by the marked success and zeal attending the British naval

preparations, the mutinies in the French fleet, the readiness of our

Allies to play their part, and the unreadiness of Spain. A brief survey

of these considerations will reveal the grounds of his confidence.

The chance of hostilities with the two Bourbon Courts was threatening

enough to call forth all the energies of the race. Through the months

of August, September, and October naval preparations went on with

the utmost vigour. Officers and men vied with one another in zeal to

equip and man the ships with all possible speed and thoroughness. Sir

John Jervis afterwards assured the House of Commons that he had seen

captains paying out their own money by hundreds of pounds in order to

expedite the equipment; others sailed their ships down Channel with

mere skeleton crews in order to hasten the rally at Plymouth; and by

dint of drills from sunrise to sunset the crews were hardened to their

work.[952] In truth, the dominant fact of the situation was England’s

overwhelming supremacy at sea over Spain, and possibly over Spain and

France together.

The Triple Alliance also proved to be a reality. The prospect of a war

with Spain was, of course, distasteful both at Berlin and The Hague;

but our Allies admitted that Spain was the aggressor, and signified

their readiness to support us. This should be noted, for it imposed

on Pitt a debt of honour to support Prussia when her summons for

help against the Czarina arrived at Whitehall in the month of March

following.

Further, the ambitions of the Czarina already threatened the

equilibrium of Europe; and in this fact we find the last, and perhaps

the most cogent, of the reasons why Pitt and his colleague resolved to

have done with the Spanish dispute before the Eastern Question came to

a crisis. This appears very clearly in Leeds’ despatch of 2nd October

to our ambassador at Madrid, which was in effect an ultimatum to that

Court. He warned Fitzherbert that the Spanish proposals were quite

inadmissible, and that “neither the circumstances of the negotiation,

nor the relative situation of the two countries and of other Powers

in Europe can allow of any further delay”; he therefore pressed for

the immediate acceptance of the British demands. An explanatory note

accompanied the ultimatum, stating that Spain ought to desire the

preservation of the existing system in Europe, which was threatened

solely by the Empress Catharine, who spurned the counsels of moderation

offered by the Allies.[953]

It appears, then, that the threatening aspect of affairs in the East

in part accounts for Pitt’s sudden and imperious demand. He resolved

to finish with Spain so as to have his hands free for the Eastern

Question. As appeared in an earlier chapter, the Czarina, Catharine II,

had recently concluded peace with Sweden; and, despite the promised

negotiations of the Viennese Court for peace with the Turks, she seemed

determined to press them hard, and to wring from them a district then

deemed necessary to the defence of the Ottoman Power. Her dalliance

with Spain was far from serious; but she might, if allowed time,

concert a formidable league against England. The voice of prudence,

therefore, counselled the immediate coercion of Spain, while Russia was

entangled in a still doubtful strife. Machiavelli shrewdly remarked

that “the Romans never swallowed an injury to put off a war; for they

knew that war was not avoided but only deferred thereby, and commonly

with advantage to the enemy.”[954]

But Pitt needed not to go to Machiavelli. Facts spoke more convincingly

than words to a nature like his; and the news from Paris and Madrid

called aloud for a display of energy. The insubordination at the French

dockyards and the news from Paris had told on the nervous and pedantic

King of Spain. On 16th September Fitzherbert wrote to the Duke of Leeds

that that monarch had very decidedly expressed his resolve never to

have an alliance with France on the basis of a National Compact as

proposed by Mirabeau. It appears, then, that the great orator had a

decisive effect in working on the fears and scruples of His Catholic

Majesty, and thus assuring the isolation of Spain. If Mirabeau received

British money from Miles and Elliot a month or so later, he might

claim it as payment for valuable services already rendered. However

that may be, it is certain that Pitt, on receiving the glad news

from Fitzherbert on 27th September, decided to take vigorous action.

Fitzherbert advised tact and patience in dealing with that proud Court;

but Pitt and Leeds waived aside the advice and resolved to thrust their

adversary into a corner. In view of the more complaisant attitude of

the Spanish Government, their action was unchivalrous; but it was

justified by the tidings which had arrived of cruelties perpetrated by

a Spanish warship on the captain of a English merchantman in the Gulf

of Florida, who was set in the bilboes in the blazing sun.[955] Public

opinion would certainly have supported Pitt in case of a rupture with

an enemy whose claims and customs were still those of the fifteenth

century; and he was resolved to end the dominion of Spain in the North

Pacific with as little ceremony as Cromwell had shown in his expedition

against Jamaica in 1654.

Now there was little fear of war. The pride of Charles IV centred in

trophies of the chase; and his weak and slothful nature revolted at

the thought of an alliance with France on Mirabeau’s terms. Moreover,

Russia and Austria had paid little heed to the recent appeals of

Floridablanca, and there was war with the Moors outside Tangier. Was

not this enough? For a few days the Council of Ministers breathed

threats of war. Floridablanca struggled hard against the relentless

grip which had closed around him. But he was helpless, and he knew it.

Therefore on Sunday, 24th October, the Spanish Minister, after much

angry remonstrance, gave way, and agreed to the British terms.

Meanwhile, Pitt had allowed Fitzherbert to recede slightly on some of

the conditions, and urged that Spain should be invited to frame an

alliance with us, both political and commercial. As usual, in affairs

of great moment, he himself wrote the draft of this despatch, which

was sent off without alteration.[956] This skilful angling was of no

avail. Spanish pride was too deeply wounded to admit of any possibility

of alliance, whether political or commercial, for many years to come.

In other respects Pitt gained his point; and the following letter to

Bishop Pretyman (Tomline) shows his relief at the end to the long

strain:

Thursday, _Nov. 4, 1790_.[957]

DEAR BISHOP,

The decisive answer arrived this morning and is perfectly

satisfactory. The Spanish Minister at last agreed, on the 24th of

October, to a _projet_ of a Convention containing all we wish, and

it was settled that it should be actually signed in three days from

that time. The terms will be found to secure all that we could

demand in justice, or had any reason to desire.

Accordingly, on 28th October 1790 (after four days, not three), the

Court of Madrid signed the Convention which opened up a new future for

the North Pacific. By it Spain agreed to restore the buildings and

lands at Nootka to the British subjects whom Martinez had dispossessed.

Reparation was also to be made for any outrages committed by the

subjects of either Power against those of the other since April

1789.[958] Britons and Spaniards were to have full liberty to trade in

North-West America, that is, to the north of the Spanish settlements;

but of course all the coasts to the south of them were to remain closed

as heretofore. Spain, however, conceded entire freedom of navigation

and fishery in the Pacific Ocean and the South Seas, except that, in

order to preclude all intercourse with her colonies, British ships were

forbidden to approach within a limit of ten maritime leagues.

The British public greeted this happy issue of events with

characteristic reserve. As Spain stood for commercial monopoly and

political reaction, the rebuff dealt to her ought to have pleased the

Whigs. But party rancour increased in proportion to Pitt’s success.

Hope deferred made the hearts of his opponents sick; and to this cause

we may attribute curiously acrid verdicts like that of Auckland’s

correspondent, Storer, who exclaimed on 22nd October, with the

jauntiness of ignorance: “Here we are, going to war, and for what?

A place, the name of which I can scarcely pronounce, never heard of

till lately, and which did not exist till t’other day. Pitt is tired

of peace. He bullied France so effectually three years ago that he is

determined to try the same thing with Spain.” Storer also says that

our officers were in high spirits at the idea of a voyage to _Mexico_,

and were buying Ulloa’s “Voyage” so as to study the _South Sea_

coasts.[959] Whence it would appear that geography was not a strong

point with Storer, and that in his eyes wars were worth waging only on

behalf of well-known names. How curiously parochial is this habit of

mind. Yet Pitt was destined soon to find out its self-assertiveness

and tenacity in the case of another un-euphonious and dimly-known

place--Oczakoff.

The insular, matter-of-fact way in which the House of Commons viewed

Pitt’s diplomatic triumph received apt illustration in the debate of

14th December, when Duncombe and Alderman Watson moved and seconded a

resolution of thanks to His Majesty for the Convention with Spain. They

dwelt on the advantages of the peaceful settlement which it secured,

and augured well for the increase of British trade to the South Seas.

But Pulteney declared that we had won too much from Spain, and should

ever feel her ill will. Besides, a Pacific whale was worth only £90,

as against £170 for a Greenland whale. Alderman Curtis fell foul of

these statements in a maiden speech “which possessed all the blunt

characteristics of commercial oratory.” He said that he himself was

a fisherman, and gloried in the character. He rejoiced to state that

more ships than ever before were now fitting out for whaling in the

Pacific; and he himself had sold Pacific whale-oil for £50 a ton,

while the Greenland oil fetched only £18 or £19 a ton. Mr. (afterwards

Earl) Grey sought to raise the debate from these blubbery platitudes

to the levels of diplomacy; and, differing from his friend Pulteney,

censured the Convention because it gained us nothing; for it laid down

no definite limits in those new lands, and it granted us access to

them conjointly with the Spaniards. Consequently, where our traders

settled on one hill, the Spaniards might build a fort on another close

by. Windham then censured Ministers because they had secured neither

adequate reparation to our outraged honour nor definite rights to our

traders. Thereupon a General Smith opined that the Convention was of no

advantage to us, because the people of Nootka Sound were “a species of

cannibals.” In other respects it was “disgraceful to the real interests

of the country”--an assertion which Rolle and Ryder proceeded to

refute, on the ground that the result had been well worth the three and

a half millions spent on naval preparations. (In reality the sum was

£2,821,000.)

Fox also wandered deviously until he caught at a possible clue, that

offended honour was the only justifiable cause for war. In this case,

he declared, Ministers had not gained for us due reparation. It fell

infinitely short of what was obtained in the dispute about the Falkland

Islands in 1771.[960] Further, we now gained no material advantage from

Spain; for British ships had sailed into the South Seas despite the

Spanish laws; and the receipts from that trade had grown in five years

from £12,000 to £97,000. (He omitted to state that previously that

trade had been killed by the war with Spain.) He next asserted that

we secured little or nothing in the North Pacific, because the limits

of Spanish America were still left vague, and we gave up the right of

settlement on the coasts of South America. In fact, the treaty was

one of concessions, not of acquisitions. This, he added, was on a par

with our foreign policy as a whole; for our new ally, Sweden, had come

to terms with Russia behind our backs, thus lowering us in the eyes

of the world; and we had failed to coerce Russia. “In our words was

confidence: in our acts was fear.”

Pitt in his reply had little difficulty in proving that the present

case differed entirely from that of the Falkland Islands, and that the

treaty secured for us trading rights which Spain had hitherto always

contested. There was therefore every ground for hoping for a great

increase of trade to the Pacific. The House agreed with him by 247

votes to 123. But in Pitt’s speech, as in the whole debate, we find no

wide outlook on events. The arguments are of the Little Peddlington

type; and, after wandering through those teasing mazes, one feels a

thrill of surprise that the British people ever came out into a large

and wealthy place. The importance of Pitt’s triumph has received scant

notice at the hands of historians. Macaulay, in his brilliant sketch

of Pitt’s career, dismissed the affair in the clause--“England armed,

and Spain receded.” Lord Rosebery remarks that the settlement of the

affair was honourable for England, and not dishonourable to Spain. Even

Stanhope and Lecky on their far ampler canvases merely described the

terms of the settlement without revealing its momentous results.[961]

Far different were the judgements of enlightened Spaniards. They

saw in the treaty of 28th October the beginning of the end of their

world-empire. The official Junta at Madrid protested vehemently against

the surrender on the ground that it “conceded to England what has

always been resisted and refused to all Powers since the discovery

of the Indies.” Herein lies the significance of the Spanish defeat.

Their Empire rested on monopoly. It is little to the point to say that

English traders occasionally ventured into the Pacific. They did so

at their peril; and the recent revival of Spanish power threatened

to rivet once more the chains of privilege on that vast domain. Now

that they were shattered, the whole cramped system was doomed to fall.

Just as the irruption of Cromwell’s fleet into the Spanish West Indies

in 1654 sounded the knell of Spanish domination in those seas, so

too the signing of this Convention presaged the end of their Empire

in the Pacific. The advent of the Union Jack on equal terms with the

red and yellow flag of Spain has always implied the retreat of the

latter. In religion, commerce, and political life the two ensigns

represent ideals so utterly at variance that they cannot wave in

friendly neighbourhood. One or other must go: and the primacy of Pitt

and Godoy sufficiently explains the advance of the one and the retreat

of the other in the ensuing years. In one other respect the crisis was

important. The British archives show that the Courts of Madrid and St.

Petersburg were then making overtures which would probably have led to

the complete appropriation of that coast-line; and the interlocking of

those two rigid systems might have implied the exclusion for ever of

the British flag from the Pacific coast. No one, not even Pitt himself,

could foresee the rich harvest of results one day to be reaped from

his action in that summer and autumn. The winning of a few log huts

at Nootka Sound seemed a small thing then. But in this age of the

triumphs of steam and electricity we can discern its importance in

world politics. The infant settlement on Vancouver Island, and on the

mainland opposite, inspired the pioneers of Canada with hope as they

threaded their way through the passes of the Rockies and the Selkirks.

Possibly one of them

like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes

He stared at the Pacific,

caught a glimpse of a strange future, when Canada, the child of

Richelieu, would enter into the northern heritage of old Spain, and

become a Pacific Power.

All this lay enfolded in the winning of that inlet. Nay, more. We can

now see that British Columbia holds in the West a strategic position

not unlike that of Egypt in the Orient. Both are vital links in our

chain of communication. Pitt, could he have known it, helped to fashion

the keystone of the arch of Empire in the Occident. He played his part

manfully in preparing for a day when Canada would stretch hands across

the seas to India and Australia; when the vivifying forces of science

and commerce would endow with a common life the conquests of Wolfe and

Clive, and the lands discovered by Captain Cook.

CHAPTER XXVI

PITT AND CATHARINE II

Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,

Bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.

SHAKESPEARE, _Hamlet_.

Up to the spring of the year 1791 Pitt had achieved a series of

remarkable triumphs in his foreign policy. After lifting his country

from the depths of penury and isolation, he seized favourable

opportunities for checkmating French influence in Holland, and framing

the Triple Alliance with that Republic and the Kingdom of Prussia.

During the years 1788–90 this alliance gave the law to Europe. It

rescued Gustavus III from ruin; it prescribed terms to Austria at the

Conference of Reichenbach, and thereby saved the Turks from the gravest

danger; it served to restore the ancient liberties of the Brabanters

and Flemings; it enabled England to overawe Spain and win the coast

of the present colony of British Columbia; last, but not least, Pitt,

by singular skill, thwarted the dangerous schemes of the Prussian

statesman Hertzberg at the expense of Poland.

Successes like these are apt to beget feelings of jealousy or fear;

for gratitude rarely figures among the motives that determine the

course of national policy. Certainly this is the case in the story now

before us, which tells of a rebuff dealt to Pitt, the unweaving of

his plans for the equitable pacification of Europe, and the formation

of new groupings which leave Great Britain isolated and her statesmen

discredited. The importance of the crisis, and the light which it

throws on the peace-loving character of Pitt, warrant a closer

examination of details than has yet been given to the subject. We

must remember that at every emergency the British Foreign Office was

directed by Pitt, not by its chief, the Duke of Leeds. This appears in

a sentence of Ewart’s letter of 28th November 1790 to Lord Auckland--“I

trust Mr. Pitt will write to your lordship himself in a satisfactory

manner; and you know better than I do of what consequence the opinions

of others are.” The imperious Minister was now to encounter a will as

tough, and a pride as exacting, as his own. Catharine of Russia stood

in his path, and defied him to apply to her his scheme of pacification,

to which Leopold of Austria had yielded grudging assent.

There were several reasons why Pitt should expect from the Czarina a

similar acquiescence. Her finances were utterly exhausted by four years

of war. Her favourite, Prince Potemkin, had won victories; but he and

his dependents had battened on the Treasury, and her triumph heralded

the approach of bankruptcy. The plague was devastating her armies in

the south; and even Russia seemed unable to endure the waste of another

campaign. The Muscovites placed their hopes in a dash of their fleet

on Constantinople; but how could that be effected if England sent a

strong squadron into the Black Sea to help the Turks? And while she

screened the Moslem capital, the presence of her warships in the Baltic

must complete the ruin of the Baltic provinces. Two fifths of their

exports by sea went to Great Britain; and they drew thence goods worth

7,308,000 roubles as against 2,278,000 from all other lands.[962] The

internal state of Russia also gave cause for concern. The extravagance

and licentiousness of the Court, flaunted in face of struggling traders

and half-starved peasants, were a perpetual challenge to discontent;

and the best informed observers believed that, if Prussia and England

held firm, the Empress must humble her pride and accept their terms.

They were by no means extravagant. Russia was to give up the conquests

of the present war, particularly the lands east of the Pruth, which

were virtually in her hands; but she might retain the Crimea--the

object for which the Sultan had cast down the gauntlet.

At the very time when the British demands were nearing the banks of the

Neva, victory crowned the efforts of the Russians on the Lower Danube.

Ismail, the stronghold which commanded the only available entrance into

Turkey, now that the Austro-Turkish armistice kept Wallachia neutral,

fell before the prowess of the assailants (22nd December 1790). After

some successes against the Turkish flotilla and the batteries fringing

the river banks, Potemkin began the siege of the city itself; but

its deep fosse, fed from the Danube, and its double line of ramparts

defied all his efforts. Then he bent his pride and sent for Suvóroff.

The advent of “the little father” put new heart into the 31,000

besiegers.--“To-day for prayer: to-morrow for drill: the next day

victory or a glorious death.”--By these words, and by the contagion of

his enthusiasm, he worked his men up to a pitch of fury. Skill came

to reinforce their fanaticism. By night a strong flotilla dropped

down stream to assail the town on that side, while on the other six

columns advanced stealthily against the walls. A sharp frost favoured

the enterprise; and under cover of a misty dawn the assailants rushed

forward at all possible points. The defenders met fury with fury. A

long day of carnage ensued, the Moslems, men and women alike, fighting

desperately for creed, country, life, and honour. At last Suvóroff’s

reserves gained a foothold and overwhelmed the exhausted garrison. Then

ensued a night of slaughter, plunder, and outrage. Some 30,000 Turks

perished. The consequences of this victory were great. The hold of the

Sultan on the Danube was loosened, while the Russians prepared to deal

a blow at the heart of the Ottoman dominions. Thus, once again, the

personality of Suvóroff proved to be worth an army. Indeed, it changed

the course of history. For now, when the proud Empress held the keys

of the Danube, how could she consent to give back to the infidels

Suvóroff’s former conquest, Oczakoff? Diplomacy also furthered the aims

of Catharine, and told against those of Pitt. Much depended on the good

faith of Leopold II in keeping his promises to the Triple Alliance,

pledged at the Conference of Reichenbach in July 1790. He had agreed to

accept the _status quo ante bellum_ as a basis of settlement for his

disputes with the Belgians and for his war with Turkey. Now, nothing

ought to have been simpler than the restoration of his conquests to the

Porte, provided that the plenipotentiaries of the Powers, who met at

Sistova late in 1790 to reduce them to treaty form, were inspired by

good faith and pacific desires.

But distrust and intrigue soon enveloped in mystery phrases that were

clear as day. The Turks opposed to the superior force of Austria all

the chicanery of oriental delays. Their astrologers discovered that

very many days were unsuitable for the conduct of business; and their

envoys often fell ill. Hopes ran high at the Porte that England and

Prussia would draw the sword against the Czarina. The Emperor Leopold

and his equally wily Chancellor, Prince Kaunitz, also saw in delay an

opportunity of wriggling out from the engagements so reluctantly made

at Reichenbach.[963] Scarcely was the ink of that compact dry before

Kaunitz bemoaned to his envoy in London the lack of any conquests at

the end of “a ruinously expensive war.” This magnanimity he ascribed

to his desire to be again on good terms with England, despite her

unjust treatment of a once valued ally. After these crocodile tears

there came the significant suggestion--Would not England instruct her

envoy to deal leniently with Austria in the ensuing negotiations with

the Turks, and allow her to gain a few little advantages?[964] Leopold

also wrote to his offended ally, Catharine, assuring her that he would

never really make peace with the Turks until she had secured from them

conquests proportionate to the successes of her troops. Let Austria

and Russia keep in close touch and form an eternal compact.[965] Here,

then, we probe one of the causes of the defiant rejection by Catharine

of Pitt’s demand for the _status quo_. He believed, and very naturally,

that the Austro-Russian alliance was wholly severed; while, in point of

fact, Austria was secretly, but effectively, playing the game of her

late ally.[966]

But there was another cause of his failure. The Semiramis of the North

could at need abase her pride and clasp the hand of a hated foe. As

we have seen, she had grasped that of Gustavus III; but only for the

most potent of reasons. She saw in that vain and impulsive sovereign a

convenient tool, who might serve her well in case of a British naval

demonstration against Cronstadt. For some time the Swedish monarch held

back his hand. Auckland wrote early in November 1790 that Gustavus

either from vanity or from penury, might once more attack her; but the

price which he asked from the Allies was enormous:--“I am assured on

good authority that he talks of 10,000,000 rix dollars for the first

campaign, and 7,000,000 for every succeeding one.”[967] Rumour, then,

saw in Gustavus not merely a knight errant, but a shrewd bargainer;

and we now know that he had come to some secret understanding with

Catharine. By methods not very unusual in that age, the British Embassy

at Stockholm managed to procure and decipher a letter of the Swedish

monarch to his envoy at London, Baron Nolcken, dated 7th December 1790.

In it he expressed regret and annoyance that England still kept a large

fleet ready for service in the Baltic, and urged Nolcken to point

out that the British ships would find great difficulty in procuring

provisions in that sea, as Sweden must refuse them.[968] The experience

of our sailors, especially in the years 1810–11, has since corroborated

that statement.

This was not all. Gustavus was then revolving a grandiose project for

the invasion of Normandy by Swedish and Russian troops, in order to

crush the French Revolution. Catharine humoured the notion, more, it

would seem, with the aim of protecting herself from British warships

than of re-establishing Louis XVI;[969] for, as was often to appear,

her royalist heroics never led to definite action. To the Tancred of

the North, however, her friendship seemed all important; and it was

therefore possible that, in the interests of monarchy, he might add his

fleet to hers. Pitt had cause to fear such a hostile combination; for

on 11th February 1791 Ewart assured him that the Empress of Russia was

convinced, “since her peace with Sweden, that no British fleet could

operate in the Baltic with any success, and that the [British] Minister

would risk the loss of his popularity by such an expedition.”[970] Her

surmise was to be justified by events. Nevertheless, Pitt cherished the

hope of browbeating Russia; and, as the sequel will show, this would

have given to the hard-pressed Poles a precious time of reprieve. For

it was not so much Turkey as Poland whose fortunes were at stake. The

events of the years 1791, 1792, virtually decided the doom of that

interesting people, and opened to the Muscovites the way into the heart

of Europe.

As we saw in Chapter XXIII, the Prusso-Polish treaty of 29th March

1790 spread dismay at Petersburg. But the lavish use of Russian

gold among the ruck of the Polish nobles in the Diet at Warsaw soon

strengthened the anti-Prussian prejudices of that impulsive and

passionate body; and the insatiable land-hunger of Hertzberg ere long

begot a feeling that the ally was the worst enemy. The feeling was not

of recent growth. In the year 1775, that is, three years after the

first partition of Poland, Prussia sought to strangle the export trade

of that land by imposing heavy customs dues on all Polish products sent

down the Vistula, a policy which caused an indignant patriot to declare

their removal to be almost as vital as the recovery of Galicia to his

country’s welfare.[971] All the more did the Prussians persevere in

their policy, which clearly involved the ruin of the trade of the free

city of Danzig (a close ally of the Polish State) as a prelude to its

annexation.[972] Along with it they hoped to secure the cession of the

Polish fortress and district of Thorn.

The Diet at Warsaw hotly resented this conduct, declaring that the loss

of those much prized districts could be compensated by nothing less

than the whole of Galicia. Accordingly, when Prussia began to bargain

with Austria for the cession to Poland of only part of Galicia, the

rage of the Poles knew no bounds; and, as we saw, the Court of Berlin

finally fell back on Pitt’s policy of the _status quo_. Nevertheless,

even after the settlement at Reichenbach, Frederick William and

Hertzberg harked back to the former scheme, so that, at the end of

the year 1790, the Poles decided to ask the British Government for

advice and help. For this purpose they sent to London as special envoy

Count Oginski, their Minister at The Hague. He had two interviews

with Pitt, whom he describes as “very polite, speaking French with

an English accent, but fluently enough and with marked precision.”

At first Pitt let his visitor discourse at length, refrained from

committing himself, and then suggested a second meeting. By that time

he had before him several maps and a memorial from London merchants

against throwing open the navigation of the Vistula, as it would end

their special privileges. On this he remarked that merchants thought

about nothing but trade, and launched into an argument on behalf of the

advantages of the Prussian scheme, as providing Poland with what she

most needed, a good commercial treaty with Prussia. He also showed to

Oginski a letter of the King of Prussia in favour of that proposal.

Turning to wider topics, he urged the Count to press on his people

the need of better agriculture, an extended system of canals, and

other means of transport and export. England, he said, needed Polish

corn, timber, flax, and hemp, as a counterpoise to the Russian trade

in those articles; and, as the fortunes of Poland, both political and

commercial, touched us closely, the Prusso-Polish settlement must not

be such as to harm our interests. He then charged Oginski to declare

this to his Government, and expressed his intention of giving similar

instructions to Hailes at Warsaw.[973] That active and intelligent

envoy had long been working, in consort with Ewart at Berlin, for

the inclusion of Poland in the Anglo-Prussian compact, as a means of

deadening the poison of Russian influence in the Republic; and in a

pamphlet which he either wrote or inspired, he depicted in glowing

colours the results attainable by “a grand federative chain (England,

Holland, Prussia, Poland, and, perhaps, Sweden and Turkey) which would

assure a long time of peace to our hemisphere.”[974]

Similar thoughts, though of a more practical trend, were shaping

themselves in the mind of Pitt. The interview with Oginski and the

reports from Berlin and Warsaw convinced him of the need of a compact

with Poland and the Scandinavian States as a safeguard against Russia.

Consequently the Foreign Office on 8th January 1791 despatched to

Francis Jackson at Berlin (then acting as _locum tenens_ for Ewart)

instructions of far-reaching import. They set forth the reasons why

England and Prussia should prepare the way for joint alliances, not

only with Poland, but also with Denmark and Sweden, if that were

possible. The Court of Berlin, it was hoped, might rise to the height

of the situation and render possible so desirable a consummation.

At that time the fortunes of Poland appeared radiant with promise.

Late in the year 1790 the Court of Warsaw sought to free itself from

Prussian dictation and Muscovite intrigue by a compact with the Sultan

which would assure a free exit for Polish products down the River

Dniester (then in Turkish territory) to the Black Sea. Selim III

welcomed an offer which promised to strengthen both lands against their

common enemy, Russia; and it seemed likely that Poland would gain

the right of navigation in the Black Sea for fifty of her ships. Had

this come about, she would have lessened her dependence on Prussia in

the Vistula valley, besides securing valuable markets in the Levant.

But it was not to be. The Sultan, then in sore straits for the next

campaign against Catharine, insisted that the Poles should declare war

upon the Czarina whatever Frederick William might do, and thus ensured

the failure of a compact which promised to range the two threatened

States along with England and Prussia.[975] If the Poles had had

timely support from Berlin and London, there is little doubt that they

would have clogged the efforts of Catharine, besides escaping from

the tutelage of St. Petersburg. In that case the league outlined by

Hailes and, in part at least, approved by Pitt would have come within

the bounds of possibility. Other requisites were the abatement of

Prusso-Polish jealousies, and the adoption of a sound and steady policy

by Gustavus III. Such were the difficulties in the way of Pitt. It will

ever redound to his honour that at this time of intrigue and rapine he

sought to assure the union and the preservation of the lesser States.

Among the warping influences of the time not the least was the policy

of Hertzberg. After the success of the Triple Alliance in compelling

Austria to come to terms with Turkey, he pressed England to help

in compelling the Czarina to adopt the same course; and, as he had

recently supported Pitt in coercing Spain, the latter felt in honour

bound to respond. But Hertzberg had long been shifting his ground. He

valued the alliance with England and Holland chiefly because it secured

Prussia’s western frontier and coast-line, thereby enabling her to

play a bold game in the East, and to prepare to round off her then

almost scattered domains in the valley of the Vistula. There the Polish

districts around Danzig and Thorn ate into her lands and might even

become a source of danger if that singular Republic once more passed

under Muscovite control. We may freely admit that to a military State

like Prussia the situation was annoying, and that Pitt himself, had

he been in office in Berlin, would have sought to assure her eastern

frontier by some plan of exchange. In truth, his despatches and his

converse with Oginski show that he appreciated the difficulties of

the Court of Berlin and tried to induce the Poles to cede Danzig (not

Thorn) to Prussia in exchange for a good commercial treaty. It is

therefore false to assert, as German writers have done, that he showed

no regard for Prussian interests. Unfortunately his solution of the

difficulty proved to be impracticable. Polish national sentiment was

very susceptible on this point; and a special decree of the Warsaw Diet

finally forbade any cession of the national territory, though (strictly

speaking) Danzig was only allied to the Republic.

But long before the failure of Pitt’s well-meant attempt at compromise

Hertzberg had been seeking to compass his aims by secret help from

the Power which ostensibly he was about to coerce. Seeing that Pitt

had thwarted his earlier schemes by the pacification of Reichenbach,

he made covert advances to Russia, and that, too, at the time when

Frederick William had expressly charged him to drop the Danzig-Thorn

proposals. Opening his heart to the Russian envoy, Alopeus, he said

that, if the Empress limited her claims to such a trifle (_peu de

chose_) as Oczakoff and the land up to the Dniester, the two Powers

could easily come to a friendly understanding, provided that Russia

did not thwart the scheme just named. He then suggested that, as he

was forbidden by the King to make that proposal, it would be well that

it should come from St. Petersburg; in which case he would give it his

hearty support. Indeed, he would find no difficulty in proving that the

support of Russia and the gains aforesaid were far more desirable than

the friendship of England, from whom Prussia had received nothing in

return for all the services she had rendered.[976] This is in germ the

Second Partition of Poland. Betraying his own Sovereign and his allies,

England and Poland, Hertzberg invited the Power which he was ostensibly

threatening, to work her will on Turkey provided that she helped

Prussia to secure the two coveted Polish districts. Even in that age of

duplicity and violence conduct such as this bore the mark of infamy. It

led to the fall of the schemer, but not until his treachery had sapped

Pitt’s policy at the base.

As chance would have it, this insidious offer was made known at St.

Petersburg on the very day when the British and Prussian envoys

presented their demand for the restitution by Russia of all her

recent conquests. The result can readily be imagined. Catharine,

knowing the Prussian threats to be mere stage thunder, resolved to

defy both Powers.[977] To Whitworth the Russian Vice-Chancellor,

Ostermann, behaved as much in sorrow as in anger. He complained of the

unprecedentedly menacing tone adopted by the Allies. He declared that

the Empress would never accept their terms, and would limit herself

strictly to an acceptance of the good offices of England, “inasmuch as

they may tend to procure for her the indemnity she requires--Oczakoff

and its district.” Rather than forego this, she would commit her

fortunes into the hand of Providence, braving all perils rather than

tarnish the glory of a long and splendid reign by a craven surrender.

Whitworth saw in this declaration a threat of war, but he little knew

who was the special Providence of the situation. In fact he flattered

himself that, despite the news of the capture of Ismail by the

Russians, the Empress must give way under the pressure of the Triple

Alliance. His verdict was as follows:

Abandoned by her Allies [Austria and Denmark], destitute of

internal as well as external resources, without confidence in the

persons she is obliged to employ at the head of her fleet and army,

both of which are incapable of acting against a formidable enemy;

and, added to this, a strong spirit of discontent against the

Government and its measures prevalent throughout the country--how

can we suppose it possible that, under such circumstances, pride

and obstinacy can maintain their ground? These, however, are the

only motives which influence the Court of Petersburg.[978]

Whitworth’s forecast deserves to be borne in mind; for he, together

with Ewart or Jackson at Berlin, and Hailes at Warsaw, was best

qualified to judge of Russia’s power of resisting the British demands.

Ewart, our able ambassador at Berlin, spent the winter of 1790–1 in

England for the benefit of his health; and there are signs in his

correspondence with Pitt that he fully explained to him and to other

Ministers the importance of the issues at stake. He showed that, unless

Turkey retained the Oczakoff district, both she and Poland would be

liable to further encroachments from Russia. He declared that the

British demand of a restitution of that district by Russia, sent

off on 14th November, would be firmly supported at Berlin; and, he

continued, “though the Empress of Russia may, and probably will, make

some difficulties at first, there can be little doubt of her accepting

the terms offered before the spring, since she never can venture to

risk the consequences of a refusal.” Ewart, then, was more positive

than Whitworth that Catharine would not risk a war with the Allies; and

Pitt, with his sanguine spirit, doubtless had the same expectation.

Ewart also opened up wide vistas in the diplomatic sphere. He advised

Pitt to bring not only Turkey but also Poland into the Triple Alliance;

for this step would at once overthrow the influence of the Bourbon

Courts at Constantinople and that of Russia at Warsaw.[979]

Despite Grenville’s disapproval of the latter proposal, Pitt and Leeds

decided to act on it; and, as we have seen, sent an offer of alliance

to the Polish Court.[980] The matter was of urgent importance; for

rumours of Hertzberg’s underhand clutches at Danzig and Thorn had

reached Warsaw and gave new strength to Muscovite intrigues. The

prospect of an alliance with England was warmly welcomed by Polish

patriots; and there is little doubt that, had Hertzberg loyally

supported Pitt’s resolve to check the advance of Russia, a completely

different turn would have been given to national developments in the

East of Europe.

At the outset, the British Cabinet had reasons for trusting Hertzberg.

Through the year 1790 he insisted on the need of strenuous action

against Russia. It was his policy rather than that of Pitt, who at

first took it up somewhat doubtfully. There is not a sentence in the

British despatches which has a warlike ring. In the month of December

the fleet was placed on a peace footing once more--a grave tactical

error, for it lessened the effect of the British “Declaration” at

St. Petersburg; and in the missive of 8th January to Jackson, the

hope is distinctly expressed that war may be avoided. There were good

grounds for such an expectation. Spain appeared to favour the cause

of the Allies; and Leopold, at the end of a fruitless strife, might

be expected to oppose the aggrandisement of Russia. Pitt therefore

refused to prepare for war until the intentions of the doubtful

States--Austria, Spain, Denmark, and Sweden--were better known.[981]

The horizon cleared but slowly. The Danish Court declared its intention

of not breaking with the Empress, who had guaranteed to it the Duchy

of Holstein. Austria, while assuring the Allies that she would not

take up arms for Catharine, favoured her claims at the Conference of

Sistova. As for Gustavus III, he seemed to be holding out for the

highest bid for his alliance. In the middle of February he assured

Liston (it was between the acts of the Opera) that he was not pledged

to Russia, and might join the Allies on consideration of a subsidy of

£1,500,000 for each campaign. Spain also balanced at times, as if her

sole object were to restore her waning prestige; but on the whole she

opposed the threatened entrance of Russia into Mediterranean politics,

as France would probably have done had she been less torn by internal

strifes.[982]

On the whole, then, the general situation favoured the Allies, provided

that they were true to one another. But here lay the chief difficulty.

The divergence of interests between the Maritime States and Prussia

could be reconciled only by generous forbearance and whole-hearted

good faith. Britons and Dutchmen wanted peace, provided that their

navies and their commerce would not suffer from the stride of Russia

southwards. The Court of Berlin cared less for commerce (except as a

means of coercing Poland), but longed for a better frontier on the

East. Unfortunately good faith was not then characteristic of Prussian

policy. Jackson suspected Hertzberg of duplicity, but believed his

power to be on the wane. Moreover, other counsellors, especially the

latest favourite, Bischoffswerder, seemed true to the British alliance.

The King probably intended to keep troth; but he either could not or

did not prevent the secret intrigues of Hertzberg from undermining

the efforts of the Allies both at Warsaw and St. Petersburg. One of

the great mistakes of his reign was in not dismissing that statesman

outright; but instead of that he merely ordered him once more to desist

from his pet scheme, the acquisition of Danzig and Thorn.

The policy of the Court of Berlin now took one more turn underground.

The King, weary of the haughty airs and restless ways of Hertzberg, and

desirous of putting forth a feeler towards Vienna, sent Bischoffswerder

on a secret mission to the Court of Vienna (February 1791). Hertzberg

knew no more of its aims than did Frederick William of the intrigue of

his Foreign Minister with the Russian Chancery. Thus Prussian policy

was two-headed. The official head, while echoing the menacing tones

of Pitt to Russia, secretly encouraged that Power to retain all its

conquests, provided that Prussia acquired the two coveted towns on

the Vistula; and Bischoffswerder sought to allure the Emperor. The

King’s favourite (a poor Saxon nobleman who had won his way at Court by

chameleonic subservience to all the royal moods) was charged to confer

direct with Leopold, and to propose that the two States should mutually

guarantee their present possessions and aim at excluding Russian

influence from Poland. He was also to suggest the peaceable acquisition

by Prussia of Danzig and Thorn in exchange for commercial privileges

granted to the Poles.[983] Leopold II smiled so graciously on these

proposals as to elicit from the envoy the ecstatic description:

“_Quelle bonté; quelle clarté: et quelle sérénité!_” This benignity

enticed Bischoffswerder on to make the singular offer that, if the

Emperor granted Prussia her heart’s desire, she on her side would not

persist in applying the strict _status quo_ against Austria at Sistova.

Even this enticing proposal did not dissolve either the hatred

of Kaunitz for Prussia or the determination of Leopold to favour

Catharine. Both the Emperor and his Chancellor saw that Prussia was

seeking to set them against Russia; and policy prompted them to

work for a war between those two Powers.[984] No suspicion of these

hidden motives ruffled the equanimity of the amateur diplomatist,

who flattered himself that he had won over Leopold and assured the

isolation of Russia. Full blown with pride he returned to Berlin, and

advocated energetic measures against Russia, the result of which will

appear in due course.[985]

We must now return to London in order to sift somewhat closely the

evidence which came in from various quarters. In a question of so much

importance and complexity, which influenced the fate of the East as

well as the career of Pitt, we cannot proceed too cautiously; and the

inductive method here attempted seems to be the only means of avoiding

hasty decisions, and of re-constructing the history of the crisis.

The Dutch, as might be expected, were far less eager than Prussia for

the humbling of Catharine’s pride, especially as they had recently lent

her a considerable sum of money. Lord Auckland, our envoy at The Hague,

entered into their views and set them forth with his usual ability.

From the beginning of this question he opposed the energetic measures

recommended by Ewart; and certain expressions in his letters smack of

personal dislike to that ambassador.[986] His position at The Hague

kept him in touch with the British couriers passing through to the

northern and eastern capitals; and his very voluminous papers (a small

part only of which has seen the light) yield proofs of his activity in

urging Pitt and the Duke of Leeds to patch matters up with Russia. In

a letter of 2nd February 1791, to Huber, he deprecates any attempt to

coerce Russia, even though it may be crowned by success:

The state of our debt, of our revenue, of our trade, and the

unsettled disposition of mankind in general, forms altogether a

great object of importance in my ideas, far beyond that of taking

a feather out of the cap of an old vixen or of preserving a desert

tract of ground between two rivers to the Turks, whose political

existence and safety will probably not be diminished if they are

obliged to have their barrier upon the Dniester, or even on the

Danube. Besides I see many symptoms ... which irrefragably prove

to me that our friends at Berlin are in general at least as much

afraid of a Russian war as I am....[987]

In the following letter, dated The Hague, 7th March, he sought to win

over Lord Grenville to his views:

It appears from these despatches that we have nothing to expect

from the Danish Ministry, which is immoveably devoted to Russia;

and that Sweden, unless previously purchased by the Empress,

would possibly undertake one campaign against her upon payment

of £1,500,000. [He names other expenses amounting to another

£1,500,000.].... In plain truth, this phantom of Oczakow has

appeared to me for some time to beckon us towards an abyss of new

debts and endless difficulties at a moment of general fermentation

in the world when it may be essential perhaps to the very existence

of our Government and of many other civilized States that we should

maintain our own internal peace and the uninterrupted course of our

prosperity.[988]

Auckland’s chief opponent, Ewart, now had the ear of the Cabinet. On

8th March he frankly informed Auckland that his health had so far

recovered as to permit him to return to Berlin; but he believed his

duty to lie in London where he frequently saw the chief Ministers. He

added that the meeting of the Cabinet, which was to decide as to the

means of coercing Russia, would take place very shortly; further, that

Ministers “have admitted my statement of facts to be just; so that

the whole can be reduced to a simple calculation. I can venture to

assure your Lordship in the most positive manner that nothing is to

be apprehended from the present state of the Prussian Cabinet; and I

will answer for its being much better than ever it was, provided we go

on.”[989] Clearly, then, Ewart had some difficulty in convincing Pitt

and his colleagues that Russia would give way if the Allies showed a

determined front.

Pitt himself was now beset by doubts whether the Oczakoff district was

worth the risk of a war. As will shortly appear, Catharine had left the

extent of her territorial demands discreetly vague, so that the Whigs

were able to assert that Russia wanted merely the barren strip of land

around Oczakoff. The town itself was held to be a valuable possession

because it commanded the entrance to the large estuary called the

Liman, which is formed by the Rivers Dnieper and Bug. Auckland,

however, brought to judgement an able witness, a Dutch admiral,

Kingsbergen, who, after serving in the Russian navy several years in

those waters, declared that Oczakoff was of little importance either to

the Turks or the Russians. Pitt took up this question with alacrity,

and on 7th March wrote to Auckland for definite answers to these

inquiries. Whether the Turks, if they resumed possession of Oczakoff,

could hinder the junction of Russian squadrons sailing from Kherson

and Sevastopol, and thereby hamper the preparations for an attack on

Constantinople? Whether the retention of Oczakoff by Russia would not

enable her to command the southern exit of Polish commerce, namely,

down the River Dniester to the Black Sea? Also, whether Oczakoff could

not be so strengthened (rumour described it as in part demolished) as

once again to defy a Russian attack?[990]

To these searching questions Admiral Kingsbergen made the following

replies. Oczakoff did not command the entrance to the Liman, as that

was four cannon-shot wide, and the navigable channel was nearer to the

Kinburn, or Russian, side than to Oczakoff. Neither of these places was

a port; and the value of Kherson (the naval station on the Dnieper)

was much overrated. Russia would do well to spend all her energies on

Sevastopol or Balaclava, to which places she could easily bring all

the naval stores from the Don or Dnieper district. Those ports would

be the best starting points for an attack on Constantinople, which the

Turks, even if masters of Oczakoff, could in no wise prevent. When he

(Kingsbergen) in 1773 prepared a plan for attacking Constantinople he

took little thought of the Turkish garrison at Oczakoff. Indeed that

town must always be isolated and a source of expense, even of danger,

to the Porte. The admiral felt unable to say whether the cession of

Oczakoff and its district to Russia would adversely affect the trade of

Poland to the Black Sea, and he opined that it would not much extend

the power and population of Russia in the south.[991]

In this last conjecture the admiral was wholly wrong. We can now

see that the acquisition by Russia of the valuable territory in

question, on which now stands the port of Odessa, opened up to her

almost boundless possibilities of controlling the Balkan Peninsula

and of strangling Poland. On the naval matters referred to by Pitt,

Kingsbergen’s answer bore the stamp of experience and authority. It

proved that Oczakoff in itself was of little worth; but it did not

prove that the whole district up to the Dniester was equally valueless.

We have proof of Pitt’s anxiety to probe this question thoroughly.

In the Pitt MSS. is a long memorandum which aims at showing that the

growth of Russia’s power and trade in the Baltic was to our advantage,

as she supplied us with much needed naval stores, through a sea over

which we could exercise some measure of control. But her progress to

the Black Sea and the Mediterranean was greatly to be deprecated; for

she would then furnish those stores to our rivals, France and Spain,

through ports which were never blocked by ice. Further, if she gained

the Oczakoff district, she could shut out the trade of the Poles from

the Black Sea, while extending her own markets through the Levant and

the Mediterranean, to our detriment. The prospects of her gaining

Constantinople are also dwelt upon; and the conclusion of the anonymous

writer is that we ought at all costs to hinder her southward march,

even while we hailed her as a friend in the Baltic.[992] Doubts of

various kinds also beset the mind of the Duke of Leeds. On 11th March

he wrote thus to Auckland:

... The present situation of affairs is, I confess, by no means

pleasant, and perhaps, all things considered, the most perplexing

point is to extricate ourselves from the risk of a war, _salvo

honore_. We are in my opinion so far committed as to render this,

however desirable, extremely difficult, if not impracticable. [He

then states that the successes of the Russians make it difficult

now to insist on the absolute _status quo_, of which he had

never wholly approved.] Yet in my mind [he continues] it behoves

us (considering the part we have so decidedly, tho’ perhaps

not very wisely, taken,) more than ever to abide by our former

determination, or the Empress’s ambition will be gratified, not

only at the expense of the Turkish territory, but of the reputation

of this Government. So much for the engagements (thanks to Prussia)

we have entered into. I will now beg to call your Lordship’s

attention to the extent of the Russian conquests, which I think

deserving the most serious attention on our part. Oczakow and

its district, it seems is (or at least was) all the Empress in

her moderation will insist on keeping. This district by the bye

(according to Woronzow’s language, as well as my own suspicion)

includes the whole tract of country from the Bog [_sic_] to the

Dniester. However barren the soil may be, the command of the latter

river, its _embouchure_ being at the mercy of Russia, will operate

a considerable change in the influence of that Power in the Black

Sea, whether with a view to hostile operations or to commercial

engagements, and completely shut out Poland from her southern

_débouché_.[993]...

Nothing is more singular in this letter than the confession of the

Foreign Minister that he does not know exactly what extent of land the

Empress demands--a matter infinitely favourable to the Opposition in

Parliament. Certainly the Duke of Leeds and Whitworth had not manœuvred

skilfully in leaving this all-important question in doubt.

To resume, then, we find that neither Pitt nor his colleague knew the

extent of the Czarina’s demands, which, at the request of Prussia, they

were about to oppose; that Leeds secretly doubted the wisdom of this

policy; that Pitt found out by 19th March the comparative unimportance

of Oczakoff itself, however valuable the whole territory might be to

Polish merchants; that the Dutch were most reluctant to take any part

in the dispute; that Austria was playing a dilatory and threatening

game at Sistova; and last, but not least, that Prussian policy began to

show signs of weakness and wavering.[994]