possession of Savannah, and were threatening the Carolinas as
well as Virginia. The Count d'Estaing was fighting in the
Antilles, and had seized St. Vincent and Grenada. The Marquis de
Bouillé, Governor of the Windward Islands, had taken Dominique.
The English had deprived us of St. Pierre and Miquelon. The
French admiral, who had just been recalled, wished to venture a
final effort in favor of the Americans. He laid siege to
Savannah, and was repulsed after a desperate struggle. The only
advantage of the expedition was the deliverance of Rhode Island.
Sir Henry Clinton, fearing a surprise on New York, had called
back the garrison. Washington had just gained Stony Point, which
secured the navigation of the Hudson to the Americans. Spain had
at last consented to take part in the war by virtue of the Family
Compact, and in order to lend aid to France. Faithful to the
monarchical traditions of his house and of his nation, Charles
III. had refused to recognize the independence of the United
States, or to ally himself with them.
England's situation was becoming grave, and she was inwardly and
profoundly uneasy concerning it. The government was weak and
unequal to the burden of a struggle which became each day more
obstinate; formidable petitions, sustained by the most eloquent
voices--by Fox as well as by Burke--demanded an economic reform,
necessitated by the ever-increasing expenses of the war. Sudden
riots excited in the name of the Protestant religion, which was
said to be menaced all at once, stained England and Scotland with
blood.
{296}
In the preceding year a law intended to free the Catholics from
some legal disabilities was passed in the Houses almost without
opposition. That just measure had excited a certain feeling among
the masses. Lord George Gordon, a sincere fanatic whose religious
passions disturbed his judgment, had headed a network of
Protestants which signed petitions against the modifications
effected in the penal laws against Catholics. On the 2d of June,
1780, an immense crowd, assembled at St George's Fields for the
presentation of the petition, was moved to the most violent
outrages against the peers suspected of being favorable to the
Papists. Lord Mansfield entered the House of Lords with his coat
torn and his wig in disorder; the Bishop of Lincoln with
difficulty saved his life. Soon the tumult spread over the entire
town: particular houses were attacked and pillaged; the bank was
assailed; moral terror reigned throughout all England, menaced
from within and from without, trembling at the idea of a French
and Spanish invasion, and incessantly agitated by the howls of a
furious populace--"No Popery!" It was a sad and ominous
spectacle. "Sixty-six allied ships of line plowed the British
Channel; fifty thousand men, assembled in Normandy, were
preparing to pounce upon the midland counties. A simple American
corsair, Paul Jones, was ravaging the Scotch coasts with
impunity. The northern powers, united in Russia and Holland,
threatened, arms in hand, to sustain the rights of the neutrals
disregarded by the English admiralty courts. Ireland was only
waiting a signal to rise; religious strife tore England and
Scotland. The authority of Lord North's cabinet was shaken in
Parliament as well as in the country. Popular passions carried
the day in London, and this great city could be seen for nearly
eight days given over to the populace, whose excesses nothing but
its own weakness and shame was able to oppose." [Footnote 6]
[Footnote 6: Cornelis de Witt, History of Washington.]
{297}
The firmness of the king at length suppressed the riot:
twenty-three culprits expiated their crimes with their lives.
After long delays, the fruit of legal chicanery, Lord George
Gordon was finally acquitted as not having been previously
informed of the seditious projects. He pursued unshackled the
course of his follies, and towards the end of his life embraced
Judaism. The English Parliament had, however, the courage and
honor to proudly maintain the principles of religious toleration,
so brutally assailed by popular violence. Burke as well as Lord
North had defended the bill of 1778. "I am the partisan of
universal toleration," exclaimed Fox, "and the foe of that
narrow-sightedness which brings so many people to Parliament, not
that they may be freed from a burden which overwhelms them, but
to entreat the Houses to chain and throttle their
fellow-countrymen."
The imposing preparations of the allied powers against England
had not effected other results than the Protestant riots fomented
by Lord George Gordon. The two French and Spanish fleets had,
from the month of August, 1779, effected a junction off the
_Corogne;_ they slowly re-entered the channel on the 31st of
August. When near the Sorlingue Islands the English fleet, only
thirty-seven strong, was caught sight of. The Count de Guichen,
who commanded the advance guard, was already manœuvreing with the
intention of cutting off the enemy's retreat. Admiral Hardy was
too quick for him, and took refuge in the port of Plymouth. Some
partial engagements took place; that of the _Surveillante_
with the _Quebec_ was glorious for the Chevalier du Couëdic,
who commanded her, but without other result than this honor for
the Breton sailor of having alone signalized his name in the
great array of the maritime forces of France and Spain.
{298}
After a hundred and four days of useless traversing of the
British Channel, the immense fleet sadly returned to Brest and
speedily dispersed. Admiral d'Orvilliers, who had lost his son in
a skirmish, took to a religious life. The Count de Guichen upheld
the honor of the French flag in a frequently successful series of
battles against Admiral Rodney. The latter, crippled with debts,
was detained at Paris, without being able to go back to England.
"If I was free," said he one day before Marshal Biron, "I would
soon have destroyed all the French and Spanish fleets." The
marshal immediately paid his debts: "Go, sir," said he, with a
boastful generosity to which the eighteenth century was a little
subject; "the French wish to gain advantage over their enemies
only by their bravery!" The first exploit of Rodney was to beat
Admiral Zangara, near Cape St. Vincent, and to revictual
Gibraltar, which the allied forces blockaded by land and sea.
However, the campaign of 1779 had been insignificant in America.
The state of feeling there was humiliating and sad; Congress had
lost its authority while decreasing in public esteem; moral
strength appeared weakened; the great springs of national action
were slackened in the heart of a war always hanging and dubious;
a violent reaction led people's minds to indifference and their
hearts towards light pleasures. Washington himself felt his
influence growing less along with with the heroic resolution of
his fellow-citizens.
{299}
"God alone can know what will result to us from the extravagance
of parties and the general laxity of public virtue," wrote he.
"If I were to paint the time and men from what I see and what I
know, I would say that they are invaded by sloth, dissipation,
and debauchery; that speculation, peculation, and an insatiable
thirst for wealth rule all the thoughts of all classes; that
party disputes and private quarrels are the great matter of the
day, while the interests of an empire, a heavy and ever
increasing debt, the ruin of our finances, the depreciation of
our paper-money, the lack of credit, all vital questions in fine,
scarcely attract attention, and are set aside from day to day as
if our affairs were in the most prosperous condition."
In a military sense as well as in a political, the affairs of
America were drooping in sorrowful alternations. Sir Henry
Clinton had known how to profit by the internal dissensions of
the Union; he had rallied round him the royalists in Georgia and
the Carolinas; the civil war reigned there in all its horrors,
precursors and pledges of more cruel rancors yet which our days
were to witness. General Lincoln had just been forced to
capitulate at Charleston. Washington, all the time encamped
before New York, beheld his army decimated by hunger and cold,
without pay, without provisions, without shoes, obliged to live
by despoiling the surrounding population. Discouragement was
overtaking the firmest hearts, when, in the month of April, 1780,
the Marquis de la Fayette landed anew in America. He brought the
news that a French army corps was preparing to embark in order to
sustain the failing strength of the Americans. By a prudent
prevision of the disputes which might arise from questions of
rank or nationality, the Count dc Rochambeau, who commanded the
French, was to be placed under the orders of General Washington,
and the auxiliary corps entirely put at his disposal.
{300}
The enthusiasm of M. de la Fayette for the cause of American
liberty had gained over the French court and people. He had borne
upon the government of King Louis XVI., which was as yet
uncertain and naturally preoccupied with the difficulties and
growing expenses which the war was imposing on France. The
national ardor and the rash generosity common to our character
had prevailed. The campaign of 1780 was tardy and without great
results, but the year 1781 was going to be decisive in the annals
of the War of Independence. France was to take a glorious part in
it. Washington had just suffered a serious vexation and a sad
disappointment. In spite of the glaring vices of General Arnold,
and of the faults which were repugnant to the austerity of
character of the general-in-chief, his signal bravery and
military talents had maintained him in the foremost rank among
Washington's lieutenants. Accused of malversations, and lately
condemned by a council of war to suffer a severe reprimand,
Arnold was yet in command of the fort at West Point, the key to
the upper part of the State of New York. He had taken possession
of it in the month of August, 1780, under the pretext of the rest
which his wounds entailed; but he had already made overtures to
Sir Henry Clinton. "I am quite ready to yield myself," he had
said, "in the way which can be most useful to the arms of his
Majesty." The English general charged a young officer of staff to
carry the acceptance of his final instructions to the perfidious
general of the Union. Major André was arrested as a spy. Arnold
learned of it and had time to escape, leaving behind him his
young wife and his new-born infant. Washington was returning from
an interview with Count de Rochambeau and had given a
_rendezvous_ to Arnold.
{301}
The latter was not at the appointed place. He had been, it was
said, called back to West Point. The general repaired thither.
While he was crossing the river, contemplating the majesty of
nature which surrounded him, he turned towards his officers. "At
bottom," he said, "I am not vexed that Arnold should have
preceded us; he will salute me, and the boom of the cannon will
have a fine effect in the mountains." They landed, but the fort
remained silent. Arnold had not appeared there for several days.
Displeased but unsuspicious, Washington was beginning an
inspection of the place when Colonel Hamilton brought him some
important dispatches which had followed him. It was the news of
the arrest of Major André and of the perfidy of Arnold. Always
master of himself, the general did not betray his emotion by a
change of countenance; only, turning to the Marquis de la
Fayette, who was informed of the facts by Hamilton, "On whom can
we depend now?" said he sadly.
The culprit was beyond reach; his ignorant and innocent wife had
been seized by a despair which resembled madness. Major André was
tried as a spy and condemned to suffer the fate of one. He was
young, honest, and brave, brought up to another career, and
driven into the army by a love disappointment. His tastes were
elegant, his mind cultivated; he had not foreseen to what dangers
his mission and the disguise that he had assumed, against the
advice of Sir Henry Clinton, exposed him. "My mind is perfectly
tranquil," he however wrote to his general when he was arrested,
"and I am ready to suffer all that my faithful devotion to the
king's cause can draw down on my head."
{302}
One thing alone troubled Major André's peace of mind. He dreaded
the ignominy of the gibbet, and wished to die as a soldier.
"Sir," wrote he to Washington, "sustained against the fear of
death by the feeling that no unworthy action has sullied a life
consecrated to honor, I am confident that in this supreme hour
your Excellency will not refuse a prayer the granting of which
can sweeten my last moments. In sympathy for a soldier, your
Excellency will consent, I am sure, to adapt the form of my
punishment to the feelings of a man of honor. Permit me to hope,
that if my character has inspired you with some esteem, and if I
am in your eyes the victim of policy and not of vengeance, I
shall prove the empire of those feelings over your heart by
learning that I am not to die on a gibbet."
With a harshness unexampled in his life, and of which he seemed
always to preserve the silent and painful remembrance, Washington
remained deaf to the noble appeal of his prisoner. He did not
even do Major André the honor of answering him. "Am I then to die
thus?" said the unfortunate man when he perceived the gibbet.
Then immediately recovering himself, "I pray you to bear witness
that I die as a man of honor," said he to the American officer
charged with seeing to his punishment. Washington himself paid
homage to him. "André has suffered his penalty with that strength
of mind which might be expected from a man of that merit and from
so brave an officer," wrote he. "As for Arnold, he lacks pluck.
The world will be surprised if it do not yet see him hanged on a
gibbet."
{303}
A monument was erected in Westminster Abbey to the memory of
Major André, "the victim of his devotion to his king and
country." His remains repose there since the year 1821. The
vengeance and anger of the Americans vainly pursued General
Arnold, who was henceforth occupied in the war at the head of the
English troops, with all the passion of a restless hatred. Spite
and wounded vanity, linked with the shameful necessities of an
irregular life, had drawn him into treason. He lived twenty years
after, enriched and despised by the enemies of his country. "What
would you have done to me if you had succeeded in taking me?" he
asked one day of an American prisoner. "We would have separated
from your body that one of your limbs which had been wounded in
the service of the country," answered the militia-man calmly,
"and we would have hanged the rest on a gibbet."
Fresh perplexities were assailing General Washington, scarcely
recovered from the sad surprise which Arnold's treason had caused
him. He had pursued for almost a year the reorganization of his
army, when the successive mutinies among the Pennsylvania troops
threatened to reach those of New Jersey, and to extend by degrees
into all the corps secretly tampered with by Sir Henry Clinton.
Mr. Laurens, formerly president of Congress, and charged with
negotiating a treaty of alliance and of loan with Holland, had
been captured by an English ship. He was imprisoned in the Tower,
when his son, an aide-de-camp of Washington, set out for France.
"The country's own strength is exhausted," wrote the
general-in-chief. "Alone we cannot raise the public credit and
furnish the funds necessary to continue the war. The patience of
the army is at an end. Without money we can make but a feeble
effort, probably the last one."
{304}
As well as money, Colonel Laurens was charged to ask for a
reinforcement of troops. France furnished all that her allies
asked. M. Necker, clever and bold, was equal, by means of
successive loans, to all the charges of the war. In a few months
King Louis XVI. had lent or guaranteed more than sixteen million
pounds for the United States. A French fleet, under the orders of
the Count de Grasse, set out on the 21st of March, 1781. Arrived
at Martinique on the 28th of April, the Count de Grasse, despite
the efforts of Admiral Hood to block his passage, took the island
of Tobago from the English. On the 3rd of September he brought
Washington a reinforcement of three thousand five hundred men and
twelve hundred thousand pounds in specie. The soldiers as well as
the subsidies were intrusted to Washington personally. No
dissension had ever arisen between the general and his foreign
auxiliaries. By that natural authority which God had bestowed on
him, Washington was always and naturally the superior and chief
of all those who came near him.
After so many and so painful efforts the day of victory at last
arrived for General Washington and for his country. Alternations
of success and reverse had marked the commencement of the
campaign of 1781. Lord Cornwallis, who commanded the English
armies in the South, was occupying Virginia with considerable
forces, when Washington, who had been able to conceal his designs
from Sir Henry Clinton, while deceiving even his own lieutenants,
passed through Philadelphia on the 4th of September, and advanced
against the enemy by forced marches. The latter had been for a
long time harassed by the little army of M. de la Fayette. Lord
Cornwallis hastened to Yorktown. On the 30th of September the
place was invested.
{305}
It was insufficiently or badly fortified, and the English troops
were fatigued by a rough campaign. "This place is not in a
condition to defend itself," Lord Cornwallis had said to Sir
Henry Clinton, before the blockade was complete; "if you cannot
come to my aid soon, you must expect the worst news." The
besiegers, on the contrary, were animated by a zeal which even
increased to emulation. The French and the Americans rivaled each
other in ardor; the soldiers refused to take any rest; the trench
was open since the 6th of October. On the 10th the town was
cannonaded; on the 14th an American column, commanded by M. de la
Fayette and Colonel Hamilton, attacked one of the forts which
protected the approaches. It was some time since Hamilton had
ceased to form part of Washington's staff, in consequence of a
momentary ill-temper of the general's which was keenly resented
by his sensitive and fiery lieutenant. The reciprocal attachment
which even to their last day united these two illustrious men had
suffered nothing from their separation. The French attacked the
second fort under the command of Baron de Viomesnil, the Viscount
de Noailles, and the Marquis de St. Simon, who, being sick, was
carried at the head of his regiment. The resistance of the
English was heroic, but almost at the same instant the flag of
the Union floated over the two outposts. When the attacking
columns joined each other beyond the walls, the French had made
five hundred prisoners. All defence became impossible. Lord
Cornwallis vainly attempted to escape; he was reduced, on the
17th of October, to sign a capitulation more humiliating than
that of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Eight thousand men laid down their
arms, and the English vessels which were at Yorktown and
Gloucester were given up to the conquerors. Lord Cornwallis was
ill with regret and fatigue.
{306}
General O'Hara, who took his place, tendered his sword to the
Count de Rochambeau. The latter took a step back. "I am only an
auxiliary," he said, in a loud voice. The hatred which sundered
the ancient compatriots, now become enemies, was profound and
bitter. "I remarked," said M. de Rochambeau's chaplain, "that the
English officers in laying down their arms and in passing by our
lines courteously saluted the lowest French officer, while they
refused that mark of politeness to American officers of the
highest rank."
"In receiving the sword of the English general, Washington had
secured the pledge of his country's independence. England felt
it. 'Lord North received the news of the capitulation like a
bullet full in the chest,' related Lord George Germaine, colonial
secretary of state. He stretched out his arms without being able
to say anything but 'My God, all is lost!' and he repeated this
several times while striding up and down the room."
At a quite recent date, and on receipt of a private letter from
M. Necker, who proposed a truce which should leave the two
belligerents on American soil in possession of the territories
which they occupied, King George III. had exclaimed: "The
independence of the colonies is inadmissible, under its true name
or disguised under the appearance of a truce." The catastrophe
which consternated his ministers and his people did not, however,
shake the obstinate constancy and sincere resolve of the king.
"None of the members of the cabinet," he immediately wrote, "will
suppose, I take it for granted, that this event can modify in
anything the principles which have hitherto guided me, and which
shall continue to inspire my conduct in the struggle." Only one
slight indication betrayed the monarch's agitation. Contrary to
his habit, he had omitted to date his letter.
{307}
Repeated checks had overtaken the English arms at other points.
Embroiled with Holland, where the Republican party had got the
better of the stadtholder, who was devoted to them, the English
had carried war into the Dutch colonies. Admiral Rodney had taken
St. Eustache, the centre of an immense commerce; he had pillaged
the warehouses and loaded his vessels with an enormous mass of
merchandise. The convoy which was carrying a part of the spoils
to England was captured by Admiral de la Motte-Piquet; M. de
Bouillé surprised the English garrison left at St. Eustache and
restored the island into the hands of the Dutch. The latter had
just sustained, with brilliancy, near Dogger Bank, their ancient
maritime reputation. "Officers and men all have fought like
lions," said Admiral Zouthemann. The firing had not commenced
until the moment that the two fleets found themselves within
gunshot. "It is evident after this," said a contemporary, "that
the nations which fight with the most ardor are those who have an
interest in not fighting at all." The vessels on both sides had
suffered severe damages; they were scarcely in a seaworthy state.
The glory and the losses were equal, but the English Admiral,
Hyde Parker, was annoyed and discontented. King George III. came
to visit on board his ship. "I wish your Majesty had younger
sailors and younger ships," he said; "as for me, I am too old for
the service," and he persisted in giving in his resignation. This
was the only action of the Dutch during the war. [Having] Become
insolent in their prosperity and riches, they justified the
judgment passed on them some years later: "Holland could pay all
the armies of Europe; she could not face any of them."
{308}
They left to Admiral de Kersaint the care of recovering from the
English their colonies of Demerara, Essequibo, and Berbice, on
the coast of Guiana, as to the Bailiff de Suffren the duty of
protecting the Cape of Good Hope. A little Franco-Spanish army at
the same time besieged Minorca. The fleet was considerable. The
English had neglected their preparations, and Colonel Murray was
obliged to shut himself up in Fort St. Philip. In the mean time
operations had miscarried, and the Duke de Crillon, who was in
command of the besieging troops, wearied of the blockade and
proposed to the commandant to deliver the place to him. The
offers were magnificent; the Scotch officer answered indignantly,
"M. le Duc, when the king his master ordered your brave ancestor
to assassinate the Duke de Guise, he replied to Henry III.,
'Honor forbids me.' You should have made the same reply to the
King of Spain when he charged you to assassinate the honor of a
man as well-born as the Duke de Guise or as yourself. I do not
wish to have other relations with you than those of arms."
Crillon understood the reproach. "Your letter," wrote he to the
proud Scotchman, "has placed us both in the situation that suits
us; it has increased my esteem for you. I accept your last
proposition with pleasure." He himself directed the assaults,
mounting the breach first. When Murray capitulated, on the 4th of
February, 1782, the fortress contained only a handful of
soldiers, so wasted by fatigues and privations that "the
Spaniards and French shed tears on seeing them file between their
ranks."
{309}
This was the last blow to the ministry of Lord North, which had
long been tottering on its base. It had been sought to
consolidate it by adding to it, as chancellor, Lord Thurlow,
distinguished by his eloquence even at this era of great judges;
already, however, less esteemed than several of his illustrious
rivals. So many efforts and sacrifices eventuating in so many
disasters wearied and irritated the nation. "Great God!"
exclaimed Burke, "is it still a time to speak to us of the rights
that we sustain in this war? O excellent rights! Precious they
should be, for they have cost us dear! O precious rights! which
have cost Great Britain thirteen provinces, four islands, a
hundred thousand men, and more than ten millions sterling! O
admirable rights! which have cost Great Britain her empire on the
ocean, and that superiority so vaunted which made all nations bow
before her! O inestimable rights! which have taken away our rank
in the world, our importance abroad, and our happiness at home;
which have destroyed our commerce and our manufactures, which
have reduced us from the most flourishing empire in the world to
a state curtailed and without greatness! Precious rights! which
will doubtless cost us what remains to us!" The discussion became
more and more bitter. Sincerely concerned for the public weal.
Lord North vainly sought to influence the king to change his
ministry. George III., as sincere as his minister, and of a
narrow and obstinate mind, was meditating withdrawing to Hanover
if the concessions which Lord Rockingham exacted were repugnant
to his conscience. Already the negotiation had several times been
broken off. The chancellor poured forth a torrent of curses.
"Lord Rockingham," said he, "carries things to that point that it
would be necessary for the king's head or his own to remain there
in order to decide which of the two shall govern the country."
{310}
The majority in the House of Commons had escaped the government.
Nine voices only had rejected a vote of want of confidence. On
the 20th of March, 1782, a new proposal of Fox excited a violent
storm. Lord North entered the hall, and a great tumult arose;
Lord Surrey disputed speech with the minister. "I propose," cried
Fox, "that Surrey should speak first." "I demand to speak on this
motion," said Lord North, eagerly, and as he arose, "I would have
been able to spare the House much agitation and time, if it had
been willing to grant me a moment's hearing. The object of the
present discussion was the overturning of the actual ministry.
This ministry no longer exists; the king has accepted the
resignation of his cabinet." The surprise was extreme. A lengthy
sitting had been expected; the greater part of the members had
sent away their carriages. That of Lord North was waiting at the
door: the fallen minister mounted it, always imperturbable in his
witty good humor. "I assure you, gentlemen," said he, smiling,
"that it is the first time I have taken part in a secret." The
great Whig coalition came into power. Lord Shelburne had refused
to charge himself with it; he consented, however, to become
secretary of state. The Marquis of Rockingham, the Duke of
Richmond, and Mr. Fox occupied the most important posts. Like
William Pitt and Henry Fox previously, Burke had been named
paymaster-general of the forces by land and sea. In spite of
political principles utterly opposed to those of his colleagues,
Lord Thurlow remained chancellor.
The era of concessions was approaching. The first were granted to
Ireland, which had violently risen up against the restriction
placed upon its commerce, and against the act of George II.,
which attributed to the English Parliament, in conjunction with
the king, the right of legislating on the condition of Ireland
without the participation of the Irish Houses.
{311}
The eloquence of Henry Grattan potently served the national
cause; oppressive or arbitrary laws were abrogated. The king at
the same time announced his intention of entering on the path of
economic reforms. Already young and ardent spirits foresaw other
reforms, but Burke, who was a passionate friend of the
retrenchment of expenses and pensions, was beside himself with
anger when parliamentary privileges appeared in question. Fox had
with difficulty restrained him on the subject of a motion of
young Pitt, who had recently entered the House, noticed and
esteemed by all. He soon blazed forth with all the customary
transport of his character and talent. "Burke has at last
unburdened his heart with the most magnificent improvidence,"
wrote Sheridan to Fitzpatrick. "He attacked William Pitt with
cries of rage, and swore that Parliament was and had always been
what it ought to be, and that whoever thought to reform it wished
to overturn the constitution."
In the midst of parliamentary discords and shocks of power, other
preoccupations continued to weigh upon the nation, saddened and
humiliated by the state of affairs in America, and daily more
convinced that peace, however sorrowful, was indispensable. A
brilliant success of Admirals Rodney and Hood against the Count
de Grasse had for an instant reanimated the pride and the hopes
of the English. Although a good sailor, and for a long time
fortunate in war, the French admiral had at various times shown
himself short-sighted and credulous. He let himself be driven
away from St. Christopher, which he was besieging, and of which
the Marquis de Bouillé took possession some days later. He was
embarrassed by his ships, which had suffered heavy damages.
{312}
The two fleets met between St. Lucia and Jamaica; the combat
lasted ten hours without stoppage of cannonading; the French
squadron was cut up; one after another the captains were killed.
"We passed near the _Glorieux_," wrote an eye-witness; "it
was almost completely dismasted; but the white flag was nailed to
one of the shattered masts, and seemed in its ruin to defy us
still. Henceforth incapable of action, the enormous mass
presented a spectacle which struck the imagination of our
admiral. As he spends his life reading Homer, he exclaimed that
he was now working to raise the body of Patrocles." The vessel of
the French Admiral, the _Ville de Paris_, was attacked at
once by seven hostile ships; his own could not succeed in
approaching him. The Count de Grasse, full of sorrow and anger,
still fought when all hope was long since lost. "The admiral is
six feet every day," said the sailors, "but on days of battle he
is six feet one inch." When the admiral's ship at last hauled
down its flag, it had suffered such damage that it sank before
arriving in England. Since Marshal de Taillard, the Count de
Grasse was the first French commander-in-chief made prisoner
during the combat. "In two years," wrote Rodney to his wife, "I
have taken two Spanish admirals, one French, and one Dutch. It is
Providence who has done all; without it would I have been able to
escape the discharges of thirty-three ships of line, who were all
set upon near me? But the _Formidable_ has shown herself
worthy of her name."
The Bailiff de Suffren was at the same time sustaining in the
Indian seas that honor of the French navy so often heroically
defended against the most formidable obstacles. He succeeded in
landing at the Cape of Good Hope the French garrison promised to
the Dutch, when he received command of the fleet from the dying
hands of Admiral d'Orves.
{313}
A clever and bold adventurer who had become a great prince, the
Mussulman Hyder-Ali, was obstinately combating English power in
the Carnatic. He had rallied around him the remnant of the French
colonists, almost without asylum since the ruined Pondicherry had
been retaken by the English in 1778. A treaty of alliance united
the nabob to the French. On the 4th of July a serious battle was
fought before Negapatam between the French and English fleets.
The victory remained dubious, but Sir Edward Hughes withdrew
under Negapatam without renewing hostilities. The Bailiff had
taken possession of Trincomalee. As had already happened several
times, whether it were cowardice or treason, a part of the French
forces yielded in the middle of the action. A combination was
formed against the admiral; he fought alone against five or six
assailants; the mainmast of the _Heros_, which he commanded,
fell under the enemy's balls. Suffren, standing on the bridge,
shouted, being beside himself, "The flags, let the white flags be
put all round the _Heros_." The vessel, bristling with the
glorious signs of its resistance, responded so valiantly to the
attacks of the English that the squadron had time to form around
it again. The English went to anchor before Madras. M. de Suffren
freed Bussy-Castelnau, who had just arrived in India and who had
let himself be closed up by the English in Gondelore. Hyder-Ali
died on the 7th of December, 1782, leaving to his son, Tippoo
Saib, a confused state of affairs, which was soon to become
tragic. M. de Suffren alone defended the remnants of French power
in India.
{314}
England had just gained in Europe a success most important for
her policy as well as for her national pride. Twice revictualled,
by Rodney and by Admiral Darby, Gibraltar had resisted for two or
three years the united efforts of the French and Spaniards. Each
morning, on awaking, King Charles III. asked his servants, "Have
we Gibraltar?" And, at the negative answer, "We shall soon have
it," the monarch would assure them. It was finally resolved to
have satisfaction of the obstinate defenders of the place: the
Duke de Crillon brought on a body of French troops. He was
accompanied by the Count d'Artois, brother of the king, and by
the Duke de Bourbon. Their first care, on arriving, was to send
to General Eliot the letters addressed to him which had been
delayed for some time at Madrid. The Duke de Crillon had added to
the correspondence a present of game, fruit, and vegetables,
asking at the same time the hostile general's permission to renew
this gift. The distress in the besieged town was terrible, but
General Eliot responded to the duke with thanks and a refusal. "I
have made it a point of honor," said he, "in the matter of plenty
and of dearth to make common cause with the last of my brave
soldiers: this will be my excuse for begging your Excellency not
to overwhelm me with favors in the future."
Some floating batteries, cleverly constructed by a French
engineer, the Chevalier d'Arcon, threatened the ramparts of the
place. On the 13th of September, at nine o'clock in the morning,
the Spaniards opened fire; all the artillery of the fort replied:
the surrounding mountains echoed the cannonade. The entire army,
which covered the coast, anxiously awaited the result of the
enterprise. The fortifications were already beginning to give
way, and the batteries had been firing for five hours. All at
once, the Prince of Nassau, who commanded a detachment, thought
he perceived that the flames were reaching his heavy ship.
{315}
The fire spread rapidly, and one after another the floating
batteries were dismantled. "At seven o'clock we had lost all
hope," said an Italian officer who had taken part in the assault;
"we no longer fired, and our signals of distress remained without
effect. The red balls of the besieged rained on us. The crews
were threatened on all sides. Timidly and in weak detachments,
the boats of the two fleets glided into the shadow of the
batteries, in the hope of saving some of the unfortunates who
were perishing. The flames which blazed over the ships doomed to
perish served to direct the fire of the English as surely as if
it were full day. Captain Curtis, at the head of a little
flotilla of gunboats, barred the passage of the rescuers up to
the moment when, suddenly changing his character, he consecrated
all his strength and the courage of his brave sailors to contend
with the flames and waves for the life of the unfortunate
Spaniards who were on the point of perishing. Four hundred men
owed their existence to his generous efforts. One month after
that day so disastrous for the allies, Lord Howe, favored by
chance winds, revictualled, for the third time and almost without
a fight, the fortress and the town, under the very eyes of the
enemy. Gibraltar remained impregnable. The siege no longer
continued except in form."
Negotiations were being carried on in Paris, secretly and in
private between America and England by Messrs. Oswald and
Franklin, and officially between Mr. Grenville and M. de
Vergennes. Lord Rockingham had just died, at the age of
fifty-two, and the cabinet was re-formed under the leadership of
Lord Shelburne, deprived of the brilliancy which Charles Fox had
brought to it. The latter seized a pretext to withdraw.
{316}
He had demanded that the independence of the American colonies
should be recognized at once and without relation to a treaty of
peace. Lord Shelburne, while admitting the same basis, wished to
pursue a more complete negotiation. Fox gave in his resignation,
and William Pitt took his place in the cabinet. The first care of
Lord Shelburne was to recall Sir Henry Clinton, who was too much
compromised in the heat of the American war to be in a position
to shape the peace. Party and territorial feuds were grafted on
the fertile trunk of national enmities. Everywhere in Georgia and
Carolina the ambuscades and reprisals of loyalists and patriots
fostered a state of irritation and cruel disorder to which
Washington was resolved to put an end. The loyalists of
Middletown captured a captain in the service of Congress, and he
was hanged. The general-in-chief demanded that the English
officer who commanded the detachment should be given up to him.
On the refusal of Sir Henry Clinton, who had himself caused the
delinquent to be arrested, Washington decided to employ the
system of reprisals. Up till then he had studiously avoided it.
"I know better than to think of the system of reprisals," he
wrote to General Greene; "I am, however, perfectly convinced of
this: when one has not the criminal himself at hand, it is the
most difficult of all laws to execute. It is impossible that
humanity should not intervene in favor of the innocent condemned
for the fault of others." The council of war and Congress had,
however, adopted the principle and condemned to death Captain
Asgill, son of Sir Charles Asgill, an amiable young man of
nineteen. Washington seemed to have made up his mind and to have
hardened his heart against the appeals of pity. "My resolve,"
said he, "is based on so long reflection that it will remain
immovable.
{317}
Whatever my feelings of sympathy for the unhappy victim may be,
the satisfactory conduct of the enemy can alone cause a ray of
hope to arise for him." He delayed, nevertheless, to have the
sentence executed. Lady Asgill, in her maternal despair,
addressed herself to Marie Antoinette. The latter charged M. de
Vergennes to transmit to Congress and to Washington her pressing
entreaties in favor of the unfortunate young man. "If I were
called to give my opinion," said the general, "I would be of
opinion that he should be released." On the 7th of November a
vote of Congress pronounced the pardon of Captain Asgill. M. de
Vergennes had provided against fresh acts of vengeance. "In
seeking to deliver the unfortunate young man from the fate which
threatens him," he wrote, "I am far from pledging you to choose
another victim; for the pardon to be satisfactory, it is of
importance that it should be complete."
Washington did not manifest any confidence in the pacific
advances of Great Britain. In taking command of the English
troops, Sir Guy Carleton had been charged with the most
conciliatory proposals. He had tried to open negotiations with
Congress. The latter voted a new resolution, confirming its first
declarations of never treating without the concurrence of France.
Washington wrote, in the month of May, 1782, "The new
administration has caused overtures of peace to be made to the
various belligerent nations, probably with the design of
detaching some one from the coalition. The old infatuation, the
duplicity, and the perfidious policy of England render me, I
avow, quite suspicious, quite doubtful. Her disposition seems to
me to be perfectly summed up in the laconic saying of Dr.
Franklin--'They are said to be incapable of making war, and too
proud to make peace.'
{318}
Besides, whatever may be the intention of the enemy, our
watchfulness and our efforts, far from languishing, should be
more than ever on the alert. Defiance and prudence cannot harm
us. Too much confidence and yielding will lose everything." He
said at the same time, with a bitter feeling of his impotence in
view of the sufferings of his troops, "You can rely on it, the
patriotism and courage of the army are at their limit; never has
discontent been greater than at this moment; it is time to make
peace."
Peace was on the point of being concluded at Paris, and without
the French, between England and the United States. By a
diplomatic calculation, or by the insinuations of the English
agents, the American negotiators--Franklin, Jay, John Adams, and
Laurens--pretended to have conceived some suspicions as to the
disinterestedness of France. "Are you afraid of serving as tools
to the European powers?" asked Mr. Oswald of John Adams. "Yes,
truly." "And what powers?" "All." The suspicion, it is true, was
unjust, and Washington felt so without ever expressing it
frankly. The preliminary articles of the treaty, which formally
reserved the rights of France in a general peace, were secretly
signed on the 30th of November, 1782.
The independence of the United States was fully recognized, and
conditions as equitable as liberal were granted to the subjects
of the two nations. France remained exposed to the dangers of
isolation, whether in negotiation or battle. "I altogether share
your Excellency's feelings," wrote Washington to the French
minister at Philadelphia, the Chevalier de la Luzerne.
{319}
"The articles of treaty between Great Britain and America are so
inconclusive in regard to what touches a general peace that it
behooves us to preserve a hostile attitude, and to remain ready
in any event for peace or for war." M. de Vergennes wrote to the
same diplomatist: "You will assuredly be as satisfied as I am as
to the advantages which our allies the Americans will derive from
peace, but you will not be less astonished than I have been at
the conduct of the commissioners. They have carefully avoided me,
answering me evasively on every occasion when I have inquired as
to the progress of the negotiations, in such a way as to make me
believe that they were not advancing, and that they had no
confidence in the sincerity of the English minister. Judge of my
surprise when, on the 30th of November, Dr. Franklin apprised me
that everything was signed! ... Things are not yet as far
advanced with us as with the United States; however, if the king
had employed as little delicacy as the commissioners, we would
have been able to sign the peace with England a long time before
they did." It was only when the cessation of hostilities and the
preliminaries of a general peace were signed at Paris, on the
20th of January, 1783, that Washington allowed his joy at peace
to break forth freely. He had eagerly desired it. More than any
other, and to a degree rarely granted by God to the personal
action of one man, he had contributed to render it glorious and
happy for his country. "I am greatly rejoiced," wrote he to
Colonel Hamilton, "to see an end put to our state of war, and to
see a career open before us, which, if we follow it wisely, will
lead us to become a great people, equally happy and respectable;
but we must have, in order to advance in this path, other means
than a narrow political place; than jealousies or unreasoning
prejudices. Otherwise one need not be a prophet to foresee that
in the hands of our enemies, and of European powers jealous of
our greatness in union, we will only be the instruments of
dissolving the confederation."
{320}
Through many faults, through serious and dangerous errors, and in
spite of shocks, the last and most cruel of which has failed to
dissolve that union so dear to the patriotic thoughts of
Washington, the American people has remained a great people, and
its place among nations has in a century become more considerable
than its founders had foreseen. Washington had not yet ended his
work; he was to guide in the paths of government that generation
of his compatriots which he had so painfully accustomed to the
art of war. Scarcely was peace signed when Congress was disputing
with the army as to the recompense for its sufferings and
efforts. The newborn United States were threatened with a
military insurrection. The influence of the general-in-chief
preserved them from it, while sparing his country the shame of a
cowardly ingratitude. "If this country denies the prayer of the
troops," he exclaimed, at the end of one of his official letters
to the president of Congress, "then I shall have learned what
ingratitude is; I shall have assisted at a spectacle which for
the remainder of my days will fill my soul with bitterness."
The wishes of the American army were heard, and peace obtained in
America as well as in Europe, although precarious and doubtful in
many respects, and threatened by inward fermentation or by
outside dangers, which were but ill warded off by negotiations
and treaties.
{321}
To the exchange of conquests between France and England was added
the cession to France of the Island of Tobago, and of the Senegal
River with its dependencies. The territory of Pondicherry and of
Karikal received some increase. For the first time for more than
a hundred years the English renounced the humiliating
stipulations so often exacted on the subject of the port of
Dunkerque. Spain saw how to confirm her conquest of Florida and
the Island of Minorca. The Dutch recovered all their possessions
with the exception of Negapatam.
At the opening of Parliament, on the 5th of December, 1782, King
George III. announced in the speech from the throne that he had
at last recognized the independence of the American colonies. The
nation was not unaware of how he had long resisted this cruel
necessity. "In thus accepting their separation from the crown of
these kingdoms," said the monarch, "I have sacrificed all my
personal wishes to the desires and opinions of my people. I
humbly and earnestly ask the All-powerful God that Great Britain
may not experience the evils which may result from so great a
dismemberment of the empire, and that America may be preserved
from the calamities which have lately proved in the
mother-country that monarchy is necessary to the maintenance of
constitutional liberties. Religion, language, interests,
reciprocal affection, will serve, I hope, as a bond of union
between the two countries: I shall spare neither my cares nor my
attention in that direction." "I have been the last in England to
consent to the independence of America," said George III. to John
Adams, the first man charged with representing his country at the
court of London; "I shall, however, be the last to sanction its
violation." In the hot debates against the peace which speedily
arose in Parliament, the king earnestly sustained his ministers.
{322}
Lord North and Mr. Fox, of late so violently opposed, had united
to attack the treaties. "It is not in my nature," said Fox, "to
preserve my rancors long, nor to live on bad terms with any one;
my friendships are eternal, my enmities will never be so.
_Amicitiæ sempiternæ, inimicitiæ placabiles._" Lord
Shelburne was defeated, and retired. During five weeks the young
chancellor of the exchequer, William Pitt, who had borne the
burden of the discussion with Fox in debate, remained charged
with the administration. Then the king asked him to form a
cabinet. Pitt declined, with that mixture of boldness and
sensible moderation which constantly distinguished his political
life; the coalition ministry of North and Fox came to power on
the 2nd of April, 1783. The first act of the new cabinet was to
present an important bill in regard to the government of India.
The affairs of that distant empire, where Great Britain was
slowly coming to establish her power, engrossed all minds,
excited many ambitions, and served to nourish numerous intrigues.
Since the year 1765, after a violent struggle in the India
Company's council, Lord Clive had been charged with remodeling
the internal administration of Bengal. The prince whom he had
placed on the throne was dead. To Meer Jaffier had succeeded a
child, raised to the supreme dignity by the agents of the
company, who had put the throne to auction. Corruption and
violence obtained in all branches of the government. Clive's
feelings had not been delicate, nor his conscience
over-scrupulous. He was humiliated and shocked at the spectacle
which met his eyes. "Alas!" wrote he to one of his friends, "how
low the English name has fallen! I could not help paying the
tribute of a few tears to the glory of the English nation, which
is so irretrievably lost, I fear. However, I swear by the Great
Being who sounds hearts and to whom we are all responsible, if
there is anything after this life, I have come here, with a soul
above all corruptions, determined to exterminate these terrible
and ever-growing evils or to die hard."
{323}
It was with a resolute sincerity that Clive undertook and
accomplished the difficult task with which he had been charged.
In eighteen months he reformed all abuses and constructed a new
administration on intelligent and sensible bases. Private
commerce was denied to the agents of the company, whose salaries
were at the same time increased. It was absolutely forbidden to
receive any presents from natives. When the resistance of the
Calcutta employés threatened for a time to nullify his plans, the
inflexible governor announced that he would procure agents
elsewhere, and he brought from Madras those whom he wanted. The
most obstinate were left destitute; the others yielded. A
military plot was discovered and baffled; the ringleaders were
arrested, judged, and cashiered. Clive exhibited in regard to
them a mingled kindness and severity. He was threatened with an
attempt at assassination: he smiled disdainfully. "These
officers," he said, "are Englishmen, not murderers." The sepoys
remained faithful to him. The Hindoo princes who had recently
sought to revolt asked for peace. The English power and the
company's authority in Bengal were forever established when Lord
Clive, exhausted by fatigue and sickness, departed for England in
1767. He had refused all the presents which had been offered to
him, making a gift to the company, in favor of the invalid
officers and soldiers of the army, of a considerable legacy which
Meer Jaffier had left him.
{324}
Lord Clive had laid his hand on bleeding wounds; he had dried up
in them the source of much abuse; he had effectually hindered
ambitious and evil projects. His enemies were numerous and
determined, and they pursued him to England with their jealous
hatred. The most honorable part of his life was calumniated. Past
acts were recalled which did honor neither to his heart nor his
conscience. By a very natural mistake of public opinion, Clive
became to the mass of the nation the type of those functionaries
enriched in India who were then called _nabobs_, a great
number of whom had seen their malversations stopped by his firm
government. A horrible famine which desolated Bengal in 1770, the
origin of which was falsely attributed to his measures, cast
trouble into the soul as well as confusion into the affairs of
the company. Many of its agents were fiercely accused. Lord Clive
was involved in their unpopularity. His adversaries presented a
bill on the affairs of India to Parliament. Clive did not want to
be personally attacked. He defended himself in a long and
carefully prepared speech, which had a great and legitimate
success. His enemies then directed their accusations against the
first part of his life, which were more difficult to defend.
Irritated, but not uneasy, Clive boldly maintained the necessity
of the manœuvres he had employed, asserting that he would not
hesitate to have recourse to the same means again, and when the
gifts that he had received from Meer Jaffier were harped upon,
"By God, Mr. President," exclaimed Clive, "when I think of the
offers which have been made to me, of the caves full of ingots
and precious stones which have been opened to me, what astonishes
me at this moment is my moderation."
{325}
With wise justice the House of Commons had blamed, in regard to
certain points, Clive's conduct while establishing legitimate
principles of government; it had at the same time the justice to
recognize the great services which the general had rendered his
country. Clive was acquitted by the House and justified in the
eyes of public opinion. He was rich and powerful. The American
war, then commencing, was about to open a new field for his
military genius, and the ministry had already made proposals to
him. On the 22d of November, 1774, Clive died by his own hand in
the magnificent castle which he had built at Claremont. He was
about to enter on his forty-ninth year. On several occasions ere
this, in all the vigor of his youth, he had been attacked by that
gloomy melancholy which was at last to cost him his life. Being
sick and unemployed, he had recourse to the fatal solace of
opium. An energetic spirit of most powerful faculties had
foundered in shipwreck. England had lost the only general capable
of struggling against Washington.
When Clive died thus sadly and gloomily, wearied of fortune and
of glory, his successor in the Indian Empire, as potent in
administration and policy as the general had been in war,
Governor Warren Hastings was sustaining against his foes and his
rivals that desperate struggle which the maintenance of his
method was to render celebrated in England and in Europe. Born on
the 6th of September, 1732, of an ancient but impoverished
family, and sent to India, while very young in the civil service,
Warren Hastings had already distinguished himself by intelligent
services when he was appointed agent at the court of Meer
Jaffier, at the moment when Clive, during his stay in India, was
establishing the empire of England over Bengal.
{326}
He afterwards became a member of the council at Calcutta, at the
era when disorder and corruption reigned there unchecked, before
the powerful hand of Clive had introduced into administration the
first elements of order and probity. In 1764 he returned to
England. His fortune was modest; he made liberal use of it
towards his family, and heavy losses swallowed what remained.
Hastings returned to India in 1769 as member of the council of
Madras.
Being capable and sagacious, he was occupied in seeking
advantageous investments for the funds of the company, the
affairs of which prospered in his hands. The directors had at the
same time got sight of the rare political faculties of their
clever agent. They resolved to nominate him as governor of
Bengal. The double government which Clive had founded still
existed. It left the appearance of power to the nabob, but
confided the reality to the hands of the English. The native
ministry Clive had elevated still guided the affairs of the
Hindoo prince. He was a Mussulman, and was called Mohammed Reza
Khan. For ten years a clever and unscrupulous Hindoo rival, the
Brahmin Nuncomar, had pursued him with his jealous animosity.
Shortly after the arrival of Hastings, and contrary to his
advice, on orders come from London, the new governor was obliged
to depose Mohammed Reza Khan. He knew Nuncomar, however, and was
resolved not to satisfy his greedy ambition. When the Mussulman
minister, a prisoner, but kindly treated, had set out for Madras
under a strong guard, Hastings took from the infant _nabob_
the remnants of his authority. The post of native minister was
abolished. The administration of Bengal passed entirely into the
hands of the English. The little prince, still surrounded by a
court and provided with an ample revenue, was confided to the
care of a woman who had formed part of his father's harem. The
hatred of Nuncomar was transferred from Mohammed Reza Khan to the
governor of Bengal, Warren Hastings.
{327}
Having become all-powerful, and being constantly pressed by the
company to send it money, Hastings had used violent and irregular
means to procure the sums demanded of him. He had reduced the
pensions which the English had agreed to pay to the deposed
princes; he had sold towns or territories to native sovereigns;
he had, last of all, engaged the company's troops in a private
war of the nabob vizier of Oude against the Rohillas, and he had
for a sum of money enslaved on the prince's behalf a proud and
independent population, henceforth given over to the most cruel
oppression. The distant rumor of this iniquity reached as far as
England. In 1773, under Lord North's ministry, a new law had
seriously modified the government of India. Henceforth the
presidency of Bengal was to exercise control over the other
possessions of the company: a council composed of four members
was charged with assisting the governor-general; a supreme court
of justice, established at Calcutta, was to be independent of the
governor and of the council. Among the members of this new
administration was Sir Philip Francis, probably the author of the
celebrated letters of Junius, who was endowed with a persistent,
violent, and bitter spirit, and who was soon engaged against
Hastings in a struggle which was to last as long as their lives.
{328}
Francis swayed the majority in the council. He took away the
government from Hastings and put his hand on all branches of the
administration. Disorder became extreme. The hate of Nuncomar led
him to believe that he had found a chance of destroying his enemy
forever. He formulated the gravest charges against the
governor-general, and Francis undertook to transmit his
deposition to the council. Hastings treated Francis and Nuncomar
with haughtiness. Public opinion in India was favorable to him,
and he did not at that time consider himself seriously menaced.
In appealing to the higher authority at London, he addressed his
resignation to Colonel Maclean, his agent in England, instructing
him only to hand it in in case the council of the company should
show itself hostile to his interests.
His precaution being taken so far as England was concerned,
Warren Hastings, bold as he was clever and calm, resolved to
attempt a great stroke. He was master of the supreme court,
which was absolutely independent in its scarcely limited
jurisdiction. The president, Sir E. Impey, had been his
schoolfellow, and willingly became his docile tool. Nuncomar was
accused of forgery in a business letter--the most common and most
venial of crimes in the Hindoo practice and morality. He was
arrested and cast into prison. After a trial in which all the
resources and intrigues of the council failed before the firm
resolve of the judges, Nuncomar was declared guilty and condemned
to death.
The entire population of Calcutta was in consternation. The
members of the council, being furious, swore that they would save
their _protegé_, were it at the foot of the gallows. Sir E.
Impey refused the reprieve that Nuncomar's friends demanded in
order that they might have time to appeal to justice or the royal
clemency. The Brahmin suffered his fate with the cool courage
peculiar to that Oriental race, so often weak and cowardly in
battle, but impassive in the face of torture and death. The
affrighted crowd which was present at his punishment fled,
covering their faces; a multitude of Hindoos threw themselves
into the sacred waters of the Hooghly, as if to purify themselves
from the crime of which they had been the powerless spectators.
{329}
Hastings was triumphant at Calcutta. At London, in spite of the
enmity of Lord North, who was closely leagued with that majority
of the council in conflict with the governor-general, the
shareholders summoned to vote at a general meeting inclined to
the support of Warren Hastings. The finances had never been more
prosperous. If he had committed faults it was in the service of
the company and to its profit. The governor-general's partisans
upheld him with a hundred voices.
The discontent of the ministry was so great that Colonel Maclean
dreaded a premature convocation of Parliament and the accusation
of his employer. He remitted to the director of the company the
resignation which had been intrusted to him. Delighted to get out
of the embarrassment thus, the London council addressed to
General Clavering, the senior of the Calcutta council, orders to
exercise power until the arrival of Mr. Wheeler, who was charged
with replacing Warren Hastings.
When the company's decisions reached their distant empire, the
aspect of affairs was changed. The death of one of the members of
the council had overthrown the majority, and the
governor-general's voice prevailed. He had resumed all his legal
authority, annulled the measures of his adversaries, and deposed
their creatures. He boldly denied the instructions transmitted to
Colonel Maclean, and declared his resignation invalid. After a
conflict of some days between General Clavering and the
governor-general, both put it to the decision of the court.
{330}
It was favorable to Hastings. Public opinion sustained him in the
colony; he became again the undisputed master of power, and his
title was confirmed by the company. The English government,
struggling with the American rebellion, and threatened by a
European coalition, felt the need of maintaining in India a
clever, experienced, and resolute governor.
Without scruples of conscience to hamper him in a policy which
was as far-seeing as it was adroit, Hastings had disarmed the
supreme court. The latter had shamefully abused its power;
judicial extortions and violence had spread terror in Bengal. The
governor-general did not hesitate to audaciously purchase the
assistance of Sir E. Impey. Thanks to new charges added to his
enormous appointments, the chief judge allowed those dangerous
weapons which he had used towards a defenceless population to
fall into the shade. Francis, who detested Impey, rose up, not
without cause, against the means which Hastings had employed to
deliver the country from legal abuses. Recriminations and
quarrels began again between the two adversaries. "I cannot rely
on Mr. Francis's promises of good faith," wrote Hastings to
London. "I am convinced that he will not hold to them. I judge of
his public conduct by his private conduct, which I have always
found destitute of honor and veracity." A duel took place.
Hastings seriously wounded Francis. Scarcely recovered of his
wound, the latter set out for England without his rancor and
hatred of his fortunate rival having lost any of their
bitterness. He bided his day of vengeance.
{331}
Meanwhile, Warren Hastings had attempted a futile enterprise
against the Mahrattas. He was threatened in the Carnatic by the
growing power of Hyder-Ali, the founder of the Mohammedan kingdom
of Mysore, imprudently provoked by the English authorities of
Madras, who found themselves defenceless against the most
formidable enemy.
The regiments of Munro and Baillie had already been destroyed;
the approach of De Suffren was announced; some fortified places
alone were left to the English in the Carnatic. Madras, in
terror, contemplating the flames which were devouring the
villages of the plain, asked aid of the governor-general. Some
weeks later Hastings dispatched Sir Eyre Coote, formerly
conqueror of M. de Lally-Tollendal at Wandewash, against
Hyder-Ali. Using without reserve the full extent of his
authority, he raised troops, collected money, and energetically
sustained the movements of his little army. The progress of
Hyder-Ali was arrested. On the 1st of July, 1781, the victory of
Porto Novo gave splendor and prestige to the English power, soon
triumphant by reason of the death of its clever and intrepid
rival.
The internal embarrassments of a disputed government had
disappeared as far as Hastings was concerned. He had triumphed in
military attacks, but financial difficulties, aggravated by the
war which was just ended, remained heavy. It is a great proof of
moral worth to resist the pressing need of money when the means
of acquiring it for one's self, or for those whom one wishes to
serve, present themselves at our door on every hand. Formerly,
Warren Hastings had satisfied the needs of the company by
despoiling the Great Mogul and reducing the Rohillas to slavery.
Now he pillaged the rajah of Benares, Chey-ta-Sing, not without
difficulty and at the risk of his life, which he was accustomed
to expose with calm temerity.
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Ruined and conquered, the Hindoo prince fled from his country, of
which the governor-general forthwith took possession; his nephew,
become rajah, was nothing more than a dependent of the India
Company, which assured him an ample pension. More odious
proceedings extorted from the princesses of Oude the immense
fortune which their nabob husbands had left them. Banished to
their palace and deprived of the necessaries of life, the begums
knew that their most trusted servants were abandoned at Lucknow
to the vengeance and cool animosity of the English. In order to
deliver these servants from the hands of their persecutors, they
at last gave up their treasures. Sir E. Impey covered all these
indignities with the cloak of legal justice. An inquiry which had
just taken place in the House of Commons, under the direction of
Dundas and Burke, disclosed some of these culpable actions. Sir
E. Impey was immediately recalled. The shareholders of the India
Company absolutely refused to depose Warren Hastings. It was only
two years later that the governor-general himself resigned his
functions. His wife, whom he had married under circumstances more
romantic than honorable, and to whom he was passionately
attached, had been obliged to return to England on account of her
health. Warren Hastings joined her there in the month of June,
1785.
India was pacified. Tippoo-Saib had made a treaty with England,
and his troops had evacuated the Carnatic. Alone among English
possessions, the vast Oriental territories had not suffered any
diminution during the war engendered by the American rebellion.
The Hindoo princes had seen their power vanishing; they had
become magnificent subjects while still enjoying the sovereign
title.
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The supreme authority of the English was everywhere established;
a regular administration, however imperfect and rude as yet, had
on all hands succeeded anarchy. Incessantly fettered by
unintelligent or contradictory orders coming to him from Europe,
the governor-general had found in the resources of his fertile
genius the means of government and control which his rivals and
chiefs disputed with him. He had known how to attach the army to
him, and the natives themselves, accustomed to the capricious
exactions of their princes, blessed the prosperity and order
which marked his government. He had unrestrictedly used his power
with an ill-ordered zeal for the public weal. "The rules of
justice, the sentiments of humanity, the sworn faith of treaties,
were nothing in his eyes when they were opposed to the actual
interests of the state." He had enriched himself, and his wife
even more, but he had above all, enriched and served the company
and England without scruple and without remorse.
It was this delicate scruple and this honest remorse that the
most ardent of Warren Hastings' adversaries, virtuous,
passionate, and embittered by vexatious and severe
disappointments, felt. Among the accusers of Warren Hastings many
were animated by hatred or personal views. Edmund Burke solely
stood up for the cause of the justice and right offended by the
governor-general. His name has remained connected with the trial
of Hastings as that of an avenger of public virtue, disinterested
and sincere even in the violence of his patriotic transport.
The greeting that awaited Warren Hastings in London did not
prepare him for the fate which threatened him. Treated by the
king with a marked distinction, he was solemnly thanked by the
India Company. "I see myself treated on all sides," wrote he
three months after his arrival in England, "in a way that proves
to me that I possess the good opinion of my country."
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The attack was being prepared, however, and Burke had already
announced it. The coalition ministry had fallen, precisely on the
India bill. It had presented a violent address against Hastings;
a vote of the House of Commons had condemned it.
What would be the attitude of the new cabinet, at the head of
which William Pitt reigned as master, of which Dundas formed
part, he who had lately proclaimed the faults of the
governor-general, no one knew. The entire opposition was in arms
against Warren Hastings. Francis had entered the House of Commons
and pursued his enemy with his persistent hate. The accusation
brought by Burke on the subject of the war against the Rohillas
was rejected by a great majority. When Fox attacked the
governor-general's conduct in the affair of Benares, Mr. Pitt,
who had been deemed favorable to Warren Hastings, declared that
the governor had had a right to impose a fine on the fugitive
prince, but that the penalty had not been proportioned to the
offense. To the general stupefaction he then supported Mr. Fox's
proposition. "The affair is too bad; I cannot sustain him," he
said to his intimate friend Wilberforce. An eloquent speech of
Sheridan ended in deciding the House. The Commons voted twenty
heads of accusation, and the trial was carried before the House
of Lords.
It began on the 13th of February, 1788, with extreme brilliancy.
The reputation of the accused and that of the lawyers was effaced
by that of his accusers, the most eloquent of their eloquent
epoch. Pitt alone took no part in the discussion.
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Fox, Sheridan, Wyndham, and young Lord Grey had left to Burke the
honor of making the first speech. He spoke at length. Chancellor
Thurlow himself, although favorable to Warren Hastings, could not
withhold a murmur of satisfaction. The impassioned tones of the
great orator stirred all consciences, moved all hearts, when he
cried at last, in a voice of thunder, "This is why the House of
Commons of Great Britain has ordered me, in all assurance, to
impeach Warren Hastings of crimes and grave offenses. I impeach
him in the name of the House of Commons, whose confidence he has
deceived; I impeach him in the name of the English nation, whose
ancient honor he has soiled; I impeach him in the name of the
Hindoo people, whose rights he has trodden under foot and whose
country he has made a desert; finally, in the name of nature
herself, in the name of men and women, in the name of all times,
in the name of all ranks, I impeach the common enemy and
oppressor of all."
It was with the same violence, excessive and unjust in the
passion of its justice, that Burke pursued the public prosecution
against Warren Hastings. The trial lasted ten years. Proclaimed
from 1785 in the House of Commons, sometimes ardently, sometimes
languidly, sustained before the House of Lords since 1788, it was
only in 1795, and when national attention was directed elsewhere
upon the actual and neighboring dramas of the French revolution,
that Warren Hastings, old and almost ruined, was finally
acquitted by the House of Lords, the greater portion of whose
members had not assisted at the beginning of the trial. "The
impeachment has taken place before one generation," said Hastings
himself, "the sentence has been pronounced by its children." The
accusers, like the judges, were scattered, drawn into various
paths by political passion.
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Burke no longer fought with Fox, nor Wyndham with Lord Grey and
Sheridan. Public opinion, formerly severe on the accused, had
softened. The length of the trial had placed the crimes of
Hastings among the facts belonging to history; it had brought to
light the eminent services which he had rendered to the country.
When he entered the retreat from which he was only to emerge at
rare intervals, Hastings was accompanied there by public favor.
It remained faithful to him even to the end of his long life.
After having struggled, governed and suffered with the same
calmness and the same evenness of mind which he brought towards
the end of his career to the peaceful study of literature, Warren
Hastings died at Daylesford, the ancient manor of his fathers,
which he had formerly bought and embellished, on the 22nd of
August [1818], at the age of eighty-five years.
Warren Hastings was yet alive, and America had long become an
independent and free nation. India was conquered and henceforth
submissive to English law. Hereafter it was on the European scene
exclusively that great dramas and great actors were to appear.
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