French Invasion of Minorca--Character of the Duc de Richelieu,
and Blakeney--Incapacity of the Duke of Newcastle--French
Reports from Minorca--Public Indignation against Admiral
Byng--His Despatch--Remarks on the Character of Government--The
Empress-Queen joins with France--Law-suit respecting the
public right of way through Richmond New Park--The Prince of
Wales--The Princess Dowager and Lord Bute--Death of Chief Justice
Rider--Loss of Minorca--Byng arrested--Political Squibs--Popular
Movements on the loss of Minorca--Revolution in Sweden--Causes
of the War in Germany--German Ministers--The Courts of Dresden
and Vienna--Character of the Czarina--League of Russia, Austria,
and Saxony against the King of Prussia--He is apprized of
it--Endeavours to secure Peace--He invades Saxony, and captures
Dresden.
During these agitations of the Court, which were little known,
and less talked of, the attention of the public was directed
to Minorca. Sixteen thousand French had landed there without
opposition: no part of the island, indeed, was capable of defence,
but Fort St. Philip. The inhabitants received the invaders even
with alacrity, though their privileges had been preserved under
the English Government, and though they enjoyed all the folly of
their religion without the tyranny of it. The Jews and Greeks
established there behaved with more gratitude: of the natives,
sixteen only adhered to the English. The magistrates hurried to
take new oaths, and to welcome the singular personage sent to be
a conqueror. This was the Duc de Richelieu; a man, who had early
surprised the fashionable world by his adventures, had imposed on
it by his affectations, had dictated to it by his wit and insolent
agreeableness, had often tried to govern it by his intrigues,
and who would be the hero of the age, if histories were novels,
or women wrote history. His first campaign was hiding himself at
fourteen under the Duchess of Burgundy’s bed, from whence he was
led to the Bastille, and whither he had returned four several
times. A genius so enterprising could not fail to captivate the
ladies: the Duchess of Modena, the Regent’s daughter, would fain
have preferred him to the _triste_ glory of reigning over an acre
of territory with a dismal Italian husband. Richelieu was soon
after sent to, and as soon recalled from, Vienna, for carrying
a black lamb in his state-coach at midnight to sacrifice to the
moon, in order to obtain a recruit of vigour. The very exploit
gained him as many hearts as if the boon had been granted. Yet
with an advantageous person and adventurous disposition, he was
supposed to want the two heroic attributes that generally compose
a woman’s Alexander. So much was his courage questioned, that he
was driven to fight and kill the Prince of Lixin in the trenches at
Philipsburg.
Ruling the female world, and growing exhausted with the fatigues
of his government, he at last thought of reposing himself on the
lesser care of the French Monarchy: and making himself necessary to
the pleasures of the mistresses, the Duchesse de Chateauroux and
Madame Pompadour, he attained considerable weight in a Government
where trifling qualities are no disrecommendation. Embarking with
all the luxurious pomp of an Asiatic grandee, this genteel but
wrinkled Adonis sailed to besiege a rock, and to attack a rough
veteran, who was supposed to think that he had little business left
but to do his duty and die. His name was Blakeney: he had passed
through all the steps of his profession, and had only attained the
sweets of it by living to be past the enjoyment of them. He was
remarkably generous and disinterested, and of great bravery, which
had been but little remarked. Having the government of the Castle
of Stirling in the last Rebellion, he was summoned to give it up as
soon as the King’s troops were defeated at Falkirk: but he replied,
the loss of that battle made no alteration in his orders--yet he
had then provision but for three weeks. This gallantry, which had
been overlooked for his sake, was now recollected and extolled
for our own: the most sanguine hopes were conceived--Minorca was
regarded as the nation’s possession, Scotland as the King’s: if the
former was lost, it passed to an enemy--Stirling would only have
gone to another _friend_. As every day brought out the weakness of
the garrison of Mahon, all hope was contracted to the person of
Blakeney: yet in no neglect were the Ministry more culpable, for he
proved to be superannuated.
The French covered the siege with a fleet of twelve men-of-war.
Accounts were impatiently expected here of the arrival of Admiral
Byng in those seas with his squadron, and with succours which he
was ordered to take in at Gibraltar, and which it was hoped he
would be able to fling into St. Philip’s. If he could effect that
service, and disperse or demolish the French fleet, there was no
doubt but the troops on the island must remain prisoners of war, or
be the victims of their attempt; for as yet they had made little
progress. Having landed on the opposite side of the island, they
found the roads almost impracticably rocky; and if cut off from
supplies from the continent, they must have perished by hunger,
Minorca by no means supplying the natives with superabundance. The
heats, too, were now coming on, which would be insupportable to new
constitutions, to the natural impatience of the French, and still
more to an effeminate General. Hitherto their transports had passed
and repassed in full security. The Mediterranean, where we so long
had reigned, seemed abandoned by the English.
The truth was, the clamours of the merchants, sometimes reasonable,
always self-interested, terrified the Duke of Newcastle; and while,
to prevent their outcries in the City of London, he minced the
Navy of England into cruizers and convoys, every other service
was neglected. I say it with truth (I say it with concern,
considering who was his associate), this was the year of the worst
Administration that I have seen in England; for now Newcastle’s
incapacity was left to its full play. While conjoined with Sir
Robert Walpole, the attention of the latter to the security of the
House of Brunswick, and to the preservation of public tranquillity,
prevented the mischiefs that the Duke’s insufficience might have
occasioned. If Lord Granville, his next coadjutor, was rash and
dangerous, yet he ventured with spirit, and had great ideas and
purposes in view. He provided not the means of execution, but an
heroic plan was not wanting; and if he improperly provoked some
allies, he stuck at nothing to engross the whole co-operation
of others. Mr. Pelham was too timorous not to provide against
complaint: his life was employed in gathering up the slips of his
brother. But now Fox was called in to support a Government, from a
share in which it was determined he should be excluded, and every
part of which, where he had influence, it was a measure with
Newcastle to weaken, the consequences could not but be fatal--and
fatal they were! Indeed, Fox himself was not totally excusable.
He came in, despairing of the prosperity of his country; and
neither conversant in, nor attentive to the province allotted to
him; he thought too much of wresting the remains of power from his
competitors. He had neither the patriotism which forms a virtuous
character, nor the love of fame which composes a shining one, and
often supplies the place of the other. His natural bent was the
love of power, with a soul generous and profuse; but growing a fond
father, he became a provident father--and from a provident father
to a rapacious man, the transition was but too easy!
In the midst of the anxious suspense I have mentioned, on June
3rd, came news that Admiral Byng, after a very tedious passage,
arriving at Gibraltar on the 2nd of May, had, according to his
orders, demanded of General Fowke, the Governor, a battalion to be
transported to Minorca; but that the Governor, instead of obeying
these directions, had called a Council of War, where, in pursuance
of the opinion of engineers whom they consulted, it was determined
to be impracticable to fling succours into St. Philip’s, and that
it would be weakening the garrison of Gibraltar to part with so
much force, which accordingly was refused.
But the same post brought an account that occasioned still more
astonishment and dismay. Mazzoni, the Spanish Minister at Paris,
transmitted to D’Abreu, the Spanish Resident in England, the copy
of a letter which Monsieur Machault had received from Galissonière,
the French Admiral, and which had been assiduously communicated to
foreign Ministers, relating “That on May 18th, the French Admiral,
as he lay off Mahon, had perceived the English squadron, who had
approached nearer on the 19th, but seemed unwilling to engage.
That on the 20th, the English had the advantage of the wind, but
still seemed unwilling to fight: that the engagement, however, had
been _entamé_, but could not be universal, for the English kept
_trop serrés_: that two or three English ships had sheered off;
that night separated the fleets; that he (Galissonière) had lost
thirty-eight men, and had nine officers wounded; that he had taken
no English ship, but had prevented their flinging succours into
Mahon. That he had expected to be attacked again the next day, but,
to his great surprise, found the English had disappeared.”
It is necessary to be well acquainted with the disposition of a
free, proud, fickle, and violent people, before one can conceive
the indignation occasioned by this intelligence. Nothing can
paint it so strongly as what was its instant consequences. Sir
Edward Hawke and Admiral Saunders were immediately dispatched in
the Antelope to supersede Byng and West, to arrest and bring
them prisoners to England. This was the first movement; the
second should have been to reflect, that there was not the least
ground for this information but what was communicated through
the channel of Spanish agents (not very friendly to Britain,)
from the vapouring letter of the enemy’s own Admiral, interested
to heighten or palliate his own conduct:--this should have been
the second thought, but it was long ere it was suffered to place
itself. In the Antelope, a little cargo of courage, as it was
called, were sent at the same time Lord Tyrawley and Lord Panmure,
to supersede General Fowke, and take the government of Gibraltar.
Is it credible, that Lord Tyrawley, dispatched with such vaunted
expedition, was the actual Governor of Minorca, where he ought to
have been from the beginning of the war?
The impression against Mr. Byng was no sooner taken, than every
art and incident that could inflame it were industriously used and
adopted. Though he had demanded the Mediterranean service as his
right, and had pressed for it as the scene of his father’s[61]
glory, his courage was now called in question, and omens were
recollected to have foretold this miscarriage. A letter from him
before the engagement had mentioned nothing of Minorca; it only
said, that if he found the French too strong, he would retire
under the cannon of Gibraltar. The King was now reported to have
dashed this letter on the ground in a passion, saying, “This man
will not fight!”--his Majesty, it seems, had great skill in the
symptoms of cowardice! He was represented, too, as neither eating
nor sleeping, and as lamenting himself that this account would be
his death. As Minorca was but too likely to follow the fate of
Calais, his Ministers prepared to write Mahon on that heart, which
had never yet felt for any English possession. The Duke, whose
sensibility on this occasion can less be doubted, took care to be
quoted too: he said, “We are undone! Sea and land are cowards! I am
ashamed of my profession!”
But on the arrival of the Admiral’s own dispatch, _an abstract_
of which was immediately published, the rage of the people rose
to the height. The letter spoke the satisfaction of an officer,
who thought he had done his duty, and done it well--an air of
triumph, that seemed little to become a man who had left the French
masters of the sea, and the garrison of St. Philip’s without hope
of relief. Their despair on the disappearance of the British fleet
must have been extreme, and could not fail to excite the warmest
compassion here. The Admiral was burned in effigy in all the great
towns; his seat and park in Hertfordshire were assaulted by the
mob, and with difficulty saved. The streets and shops swarmed with
injurious ballads, libels, and prints, in some of which was mingled
a little justice on the Ministers. Charles Townshend undertook
a weekly paper, called the Test, of which only one number was
published: he had too much mercury and too little ill-nature to
continue a periodical war. We shall see in the following winter
that some of the persons attacked were rather more settled in their
passions, when they revived the title of this paper, and turned it
on its patrons.
As I shall soon be obliged to open a blacker scene than what has
hitherto employed my pen, I will take leave of the preceding
period with these few remarks. Considering how seldom the world
is blessed with a government really good, and that the best are
generally but negatively good, I am inclined to pronounce the
times of which I have been writing, happy. Every art and system
that brings advantage to the country was _permitted_: commerce
was in no shape checked: liberty, not being wanton, nay, being
complaisant, was not restrained. The Church was moderate, and, when
the Ministry required it, yielding. If the Chancellor was ravenous,
and arbitrary, and ambitious, he moved too deliberately and too
gravely, to bring on any eminent mischief. If the Duke of Newcastle
was fond of power, and capricious, and fickle, and false, they were
the whims of a child: he circumscribed the exertion of his pomp to
laying perhaps the first stone of a building at Cambridge, for a
benefaction to which he was forced to borrow a hundred pounds. His
jealousy was not of the privileges of Parliament, but lest some
second among his favourites should pay more court to his first
favourite than to him; and if he shifted his confidence, and raised
but to depress, and was communicative but to betray, he moved in a
narrow circle, and the only victims of his whims were men who had
shifted and betrayed as often, and who deserved no better fortune.
If the Duke was haughty and rigorous, he was satisfied with acting
within the sphere of the Army, and was content to govern it, not
to govern by it. If the King was too partial to Hanover, and was
unnecessarily profuse of subsidies to Germany, perhaps it was the
only onerous grievance; and the King, who did no more harm, and the
Ministers, who by vailing to this passion, purchased the power of
doing no more harm, certainly constituted no very bad Government.
The occasions of war called forth another complexion--but we must
proceed with a little regularity.
The reconciliation of the King and his nephew of Prussia had given
great umbrage to the Empress-Queen. England had heaped as great
obligations on the House of Austria as can be conferred by one
nation on another; great enough almost to touch the obdurate heart
of policy, and infuse real amity and gratitude. But the Princess
in question had imbibed passions still more human. Offended pride
and plundered dignity had left no soft sensation in her heart. She
was a woman, a queen, a bigot, an Austrian. A heretic her friend,
embracing a heretic her enemy, left no shades in the colour of
their heresy. France bid high for her friendship, and purchased it,
by bidding up to her revenge. They made a treaty of neutrality,
called only defensive during this war; as if Princes could not
leap from peace to war but through a necessary medium. This news
was received with indignation: England considered this desertion
as almost Rebellion in a people whom she had long kept in her pay
with regret. Memorable were the wise and moderate words of Lord
Granville to Coloredo, the Austrian Minister, who, in a visit,
endeavoured to palliate this league. The Earl said, “We understand
it as only a treaty of neutrality, and can but be glad of it; the
people in general look on it otherwise; and I fear a time will come
when it may be right for us, and may be our inclination, to assist
your mistress again; but the prepossession against her will be too
strong--nobody then will dare to be a Lord Granville.”
The lawsuit with Princess Emily for free passage into Richmond
Park, which I have formerly mentioned, continued. By advice of the
Attorney-General, she now allowed ladders over the wall, without
standing a trial.[62] I will here finish all I have to say on this
head. This concession did not satisfy; the people sued for gates
for foot passengers, and in the year 1758 obtained them; on which
the Princess in a passion entirely abandoned the park. Her mother,
Queen Caroline, had formerly wished to shut up St. James’s Park,
and asked Sir Robert Walpole what it would cost her to do it. He
replied, “Only a _crown_, madam.”
July 7th.--The attack on Leicester House was renewed. A Cabinet
Council was held to consider a message which Newcastle and the
Chancellor proposed should be sent in his Majesty’s name to the
Prince, to know if he adhered to living with his mother, and to
the demand of having Lord Bute for his Groom of the Stole. Mr. Fox
asked if the Prince had ever made such a demand? “Oh! yes,” said
Newcastle. “By whom?” asked Fox. Newcastle--“Oh! by Munchausen
and others.” The fact was, the Prince had most privately, by
Munchausen, requested it as a particular favour; and it was
extraordinary that Newcastle had not seized with alacrity an
opportunity of ingratiating himself with the successor, without
the knowledge of his master. The truth was, he was overruled by the
Chancellor, who having been slighted and frowned on by the Princess
in the winter, was determined to be revenged; and the gentle method
he took was to embroil the Royal Family, and blast the reputation
of the mother of the Heir-apparent. Accordingly, this second
message _was_ sent by Lord Waldegrave.
The Prince answered in writing, “That since the King did him the
honour to ask him the question, he did hope to have leave to
continue with his mother, as her happiness so much depended on
it--for the other point, he had _never directly_ asked it--yet,
since encouraged, he would explain himself; and from the long
knowledge and good opinion he had of Lord Bute, he did desire to
have him about his person.”
As if this letter confirmed, instead of contradicting their
assertions, the two Ministers produced it at the same Council. Lord
Granville opened the deliberation, and began to favour Lord Bute;
but finding how unwelcome such advice was, he turned short and
said, it was best to proceed no further; as there must be a quarrel
in the Royal family, it was best the King should do nothing. The
Duke of Devonshire said, with great decency, he hoped that was
not the case; he hoped they were met to prevent such a rupture.
“Oh! yes,” replied Lord Granville, “it must happen; the Prince
has declared he will use ill all that shall be placed about him;
and though young Lords will ambition the situation, they will not
endure to be treated like footmen: the King will treat Lord Bute
like a footman; and then he will make the Prince use the others
in the same manner. This family always has and will quarrel from
generation to generation.”
Mr. Fox then observed, that as it would fall to his province in
the House of Commons to defend the King’s refusal, if his Royal
Highness should petition there for a larger allowance, he must know
on what ground to defend it, for the Opposition would produce his
Majesty’s former message, as evidence that the King had thought
it right the Prince of Wales should have 40,000_l._ a year. “You
must _explain_,” said the Chancellor, “that in the first message
something was meant which was known to both parties”--and then went
into a formal pleading against the Prince, at the conclusion of
which Newcastle prevailed to have the determination put off for the
present; though, on being pressed by Fox, he agreed that it should
be considered again. After sacrificing the Princess in this cruel
manner, they persuaded the King that Fox was making his court to
her.
At this conjuncture, the great office of Chief Justice being vacant
by the death of Sir Dudley Rider, Murray demanded it without a
competitor, because above competition; and agreeably to his
constant asseverations, that he meant to rise by his profession,
not by the House of Commons; though the jealousy of his aspiring
in the latter had signally contributed to throw Pitt into his then
opposition. As Murray was equally the buckler of Newcastle against
his ally, Fox, and his antagonist, Pitt, one may conceive how a
nature so apt to despond from conscious insufficience was alarmed
at this event. No words can paint the distress it occasioned more
strongly than what Charles Townshend said to Murray himself on the
report of his intended promotion. “I wish you joy,” said he, “or
rather myself, for you will ruin the Duke of Newcastle by quitting
the House of Commons, and the Chancellor by going into the House
of Lords.” The apostrophe was frank, considering Newcastle was his
uncle;[63] but tenderness for his family seldom checked the burst
of Townshend’s vivacity. It was at the same period he said, when
the struggle about Lord Bute was depending, “Silly fellow for silly
fellow; I think it is as well to be governed by my uncle with a
blue riband, as by my cousin[64] with a green one.”
What contributed to make the want of Murray more embarrassing
was the confusion that followed the loss of Minorca, of which the
account came on July 14th. The French, who had kept us alarmed with
the fears of an invasion, while they made immense preparations at
Toulon, had sailed on the 7th of April, and landed with 16,000
men at Ciudadella on the 18th. Byng had sailed but on the same
day. The garrison of Mahon, which had retired into St. Philip’s,
consisted of 2800 men. Galissonière had blocked up the port from
whence Captain Edgecombe, with his little squadron of three men of
war and five frigates, had escaped, and were gone to meet Mr. Byng.
As the roads had been broken up, and the works of the assailants
were to be practised on firm rock, the trenches were not opened
till the 8th of May; and from that time to the 20th they had
made no impression. The engagement in sight of the fort, and the
disappearance and despair of all succour which followed, had as
little effect on the resolution of the garrison. They continued
to fire obstinately on the besiegers till June 6th; and Marshal
Richelieu gained so little immediate advantage from the retreat
of the English squadron, that he was obliged to demand additional
force from France. Having received it, on the 6th he opened a grand
scene of batteries, which by the 14th had effectuated several
breaches. Yet those brave men still held out, and in proportion as
no account came of their surrender, the fame of Blakeney rose.
At last, it was determined in the French Council of War to storm
the place on the 27th at night, which was performed accordingly,
and three forts were taken. At the Queen’s Fort (the last of the
three), the fate of Minorca, and the truth of its defence were
decided. Lieutenant-Colonel Jefferies, the soul of the garrison,
unwilling to trust so important a commission to another, too
rashly flew with one hundred men to defend the last redoubt--he
found it taken--attempted to retire, and was made prisoner. This
happened about midnight: by five next morning a suspension of arms
was agreed on to bury the dead, and at two in the afternoon the
garrison capitulated. They obtained honourable conditions. If it
is asked what part the hero Blakeney took in the event, it must be
answered, that, during the whole siege, he had been in bed with
the gout, and executed all his glory by deputy. But not only a
Commander was wanting: when the general assault was made, many of
the British soldiers had done unremitted duty for three days; and
they had so few officers, that scarce a mine was fired, and some
were attempted so late, that the French carried off the matches
before they could take effect.[65]
If the clamours of the people rose on the confirmation of this
misfortune, so did the terrors of the Administration. The very
first effects of their fear showed that, if they had neglected
Minorca, they were at least prepared to transfer the guilt to
others. They descended even to advertise in the Gazette, that
orders were sent to every port to arrest Admiral Byng, in case
he should not have been met by Sir Edward Hawke. All the little
attorneys on the Circuit contributed to blow up the flame against
the Admiral, at the same time directing its light from the original
criminals. New offers were made to Murray, if he would decline for
eight months the post of Chief Justice and the Peerage that was
to accompany it.[66] The very distress that made Newcastle catch
so eagerly at his assistance, was sufficient warning to make him
refuse. He knew it was safer to expound laws than to be exposed to
them: and he said peremptorily at last, that if he was not to be
Chief Justice, neither would he any longer be Attorney-General.
July 26th.--The prisoners arrived at Portsmouth; Mr. Byng was
immediately committed to close confinement. His younger brother who
went to meet him, was so struck with the abuse he found wherever
he passed, that he fell ill on the first sight of the Admiral, and
died next day in convulsions. Byng himself expressed no emotions
but of surprise at the rigour of his treatment, persisting in
declarations of having beaten the French. West, whose behaviour had
been most gallant, was soon distinguished from his chief, and was
carried to Court by Lord Anson. The King said to West, “I am glad
to hear you have done your duty so well; I wish every body else
had!” Anson himself did not escape so honourably: his incapacity
grew the general topic of ridicule; and he was joined in all the
satiric prints with his father-in-law, Newcastle, and Fox. A new
species of this manufacture now first appeared, invented by George
Townshend: they were caricatures on cards. The original one,
which had amazing vent, was of Newcastle and Fox, looking at each
other, and crying, with Peachum, in the Beggar’s Opera, “_Brother,
brother, we are both in the wrong_.” On the Royal Exchange a paper
was affixed, advertising, “_Three kingdoms to be let; inquire of
Andrew Stone, broker, in Lincoln’s-Inn-fields._”
From Portsmouth, Byng, strictly guarded, at once to secure him from
the mob and inflame their resentment, was transferred to Greenwich.
His behaviour continued so cheerfully firm and unconcerned, that
those who thought most moderately of his conduct, thought full as
moderately of his understanding. Yet, if _he_ could be allowed
a judge, Lord Anson had, in the year 1755, given the strongest
testimonial in Byng’s favour, recommending him particularly for an
essential service, as one whose head and heart would always answer.
As a forerunner to the doom of the Admiral, so much demanded from,
and so much intended by the Ministry, General Fowke was brought to
his trial for disobedience of orders in refusing the regiment for
Minorca. He pleaded the latitude and discretion allowed to him by
his orders, and the imminent danger of his important government.
Though the danger of that was increased by the probability that
France would either offer Minorca to purchase the alliance of
Spain, or assistance to recover Gibraltar, yet Fowke found neither
efficient to save him; no, nor the diversity of opinions in his
Judges; yet it was plain from their sentence, that they by no means
thought he came under the rigour of the law, condemning him only
to be suspended for a year, for having mistaken his orders. When a
man is tried for an absolute breach of orders, and appears only
to have mistaken them, in equity one should think that punishment
ought to fall on those who gave the orders. However, as the mob was
to be satiated with victims, that the real guilty might escape,
Fowke was broken by the King, and his regiment given to Jefferies.
The next symptom of discontent was an address to the King from
Dorsetshire, demanding an inquiry into the loss of Minorca, and
justice on the culpable. This flame spread: the counties of
Huntingdon, Buckingham, Bedford, Suffolk, Shropshire, Surrey,
Somerset, and Lancashire, with the great towns, as Bristol,
Chester, Leominster, and others, followed the example, and directed
their members to promote the inquiry. But the strongest and most
dictatorial was that presented from the city of London; to which
the trembling Ministers persuaded the King to pledge his royal word
that he would save no delinquent from justice. A promise that,
being dictated by men secure of the Parliament, plainly indicated
on what class of criminals punishment was not designed to be
inflicted. The Duke of Newcastle, indeed, could with more propriety
than the rest engage the King in a promise, seemingly indefinite,
he, who with a volubility of timorous folly, when a deputation
of the city had made representations to him against the Admiral,
blurted out, “Oh! indeed he shall be tried immediately--he shall
be hanged directly.”
While England was thus taken up with the contemplation of her
own losses and misconduct, a vaster war, more ample revolutions,
and a novel hero, were on the point of occupying the theatre of
Europe: before I lay open this scene, a word must be said on the
situation of Sweden. France had long dictated in that indigent
senate. That influence, however, was too precarious and liable to
too many changes, to satisfy the view of commanding a steady ally.
Though senators are far from being incorruptible, the liberty of
their country and its glory, will often operate, and make them
feel the weight of the richest chains. A Court, at once arbitrary
and necessitous, France thought could never be tempted to slip
out of their hands. Accordingly, they laid a plan for making the
King absolute; and the conjuncture seemed well chosen. He was
much devoted to his Queen, sister of Prussia, a woman artful and
ambitious--yet the King had too much gratitude and virtue to
yield to the temptation--he neither desired to be arbitrary nor
French.--It remained for the members of a free senate to act the
ignominious part, which had been more excusable, as more natural in
a King. France then threw all her weight into the faction opposite
to the Court. A conspiracy was pretended to be discovered, of a
design in the King to make himself arbitrary. Every affront that
he would have deserved, had the aspersion been true, was offered
to him and the Queen: their power was annihilated; their friends
proscribed. The King added to the merit of refusing despotism the
virtue of not endeavouring to recover his legal authority; nor let
the weakness of his means be urged: no King is so important as not
to be able to sacrifice some of his subjects to the most chimeric
pretensions.
The greater scene we must trace farther back. The King of Prussia
was the point of hatred in which the passions of several Courts
met. The Empress-queen could never digest the loss of Silesia; the
Czarina had long suspected him of tampering to set the young Czar,
John, on the throne, the nephew of the Queen of Prussia. The Court
of Saxony dreaded so powerful a neighbour; and, while it trembled
for its manufacture of porcelain, could scarce forgive the contempt
with which the King of Prussia had left it untouched, when he
formerly made himself master of Dresden. Yet perhaps the two latter
Princes, the one in the arms of her grenadiers, the other in his
china palace, or among his bears, had suffered their apprehensions
and indignation to cool, if their Ministers had had as little
activity. For the Empress-queen, her Ministers might serve her
passions, they could not outrun them. The war that approached must
be traced to its source, ere we can fix on the original aggressor.
The House of Austria had long meditated the recovery of that
predominant power, which so many circumstances and intrigues had
concurred to unite in the person of Charles the Fifth. Ferdinand
the Second had acted with most open violence; but almost all the
race had usurped whenever they saw a proper moment. Silesia had
been wrested from the House of Brandenburg. At the very period
that the Empire vanished from the House of Austria, the Crown of
Prussia fell on the head of a man, who thought much of aggrandizing
himself, more of distinguishing himself, not at all of the justice
or injustice of the means of attaining either. On the contrary, he
seemed to admire the subtlety of policy as much for its beauty as
for its use. He at once imposed on the Queen of Hungary and invaded
her. The provocation was vehement; the usurpations and arts of her
House were taken from her, and turned against her; and, after a
bloody war, she had no resource but in swearing to new treaties,
with intention of violating them on the first opportunity:--that
opportunity was so eagerly sought, that she could not wait till it
arrived; and many busy emissaries conspired to hasten the crisis.
Of these, the chief was Count Bruhl, the favourite of the King
of Poland. This man, whom no merit, or no merit that is known,
had recommended to Augustus the Third, governed absolutely, I
may say, reigned in Saxony, for the Prince, who hated pomp, and
divided his time between his priests and his forests, chose that
Bruhl should be his proxy to display that grandeur, which Germans
take for empire--and he could not have made a properer choice. As
Elector, Bruhl[67] was magnificent, expensive, tawdry, vain;--as
Minister, weak and false. He had two or three suits of clothes for
every day in the year:--strangers were even carried to see his
magazine of shoes! This man, who had mortgaged the revenues of
Saxony to support his profusion, and who had prepared nothing but
baubles against a Prince that lived in a camp, with the frugality
of a common soldier,--this daring trifler aspired to form a league
with two mighty Empires, to overturn the throne of Prussia, and
pretended to a share in the spoils.
At the same time the Councils of Vienna were directed by Count
Kaunitz, a man lately returned from an Embassy to Paris, where he
had pushed all the luxurious effeminacy of dress and affectation
to an excess common to imitators, and of all imitators most common
to Germans. I will mention but one instance: it was fashionable to
wear little powder: every morning when he dressed, he had the whole
air of a room put in agitation with powder, and when announced
to be properly impregnated, he just presented himself in it, and
received the atoms in equal dispersion over his hair. These were
the politicians that took upon them to annihilate the House of
Brandenburg at the very period that it was headed by Frederic the
Third. I mention them only to show what pismires roused that lion.
Yet Kaunitz had parts--Bruhl had no more than just served to govern
his master’s none. The tools associated to their plot were such as
recommended themselves by activity, cunning, or inveteracy: yet
one they had, sensible enough to negotiate a conspiracy, and cool
enough to conduct it: his name Count Fleming, a haughty and sullen
Saxon, who had been employed in England, and was now at Vienna.
In the year 1745, Bruhl had made a partition-treaty with the
Empress-queen, by which part of the King of Prussia’s dominions
were to be allotted to Saxony. That treaty had produced nothing
but the seizure of Dresden by Frederic. He palliated the violent
possession he had taken of Silesia, to which he thought he had a
right, by the moderation with which he restored Saxony, to which he
had no title but provocation. Yet Augustus had scarce sworn to the
articles of a peace by which he recovered his dominions, before he
was tempted to a violation of them by the Court of Vienna. As eager
as Bruhl was to close with perfidy, yet he could not forget the
invasion of Dresden: he suggested that a previous treaty between
the Courts of Vienna and Petersburg would expedite and secure
their common wishes. To facilitate this union, the Saxon Ministers
in every Northern Court received secret instructions to spread
suggestions and alarms of great machinations at Berlin against the
Czarina. As Bruhl was not penurious of lies, he took the pains
to dictate these slanders himself in the blackest terms. In his
intercepted despatches one sees how successfully he administered
his calumnies, till the Czarina believed herself aimed at even by
assassination--and this project of terrifying her into an attack
upon the King of Prussia, Bruhl had the modesty to call _a somewhat
artful, though good intention_.
The Czarina was an amiable woman, of no great capacity. She had
been deprived of a throne to which she had pretensions, and had
passed her youth in the terror which must accompany such a claim in
a despotic empire, where, if civilized manners were stealing in,
humanity to a competitor was one of the last arts of which they
were likely to find or adopt a pattern. Yet she had been treated
with great lenity, and, which perhaps was still more extraordinary,
as the addition of gratitude, another virtue, made the imitation
still more difficult, returned it. Her first transport on her rapid
elevation was devout mercy; she made a vow never to put any person
to death, and adhered to it; Siberia and the prisons, during her
reign, were crowded with criminals, tortured, but never executed.
She not only spared the little dethroned Czar, John, and had him
educated with great care, but was as indulgent as she could be
with safety to her rival the Princess Anne, his mother. With so
much tenderness of heart, it was not wonderful that her heart
was entirely tender--and how slight was that unbounded abuse of
power, which only tended to gratify an unbounded inclination! Let
us compare the daughters of two ferocious men, and see which was
sovereign of a civilized nation, which of a barbarous one. Both
were Elizabeths. The daughter of Peter was absolute, yet spared a
competitor and a rival; and thought the person of an Empress had
sufficient allurements for as many of her subjects as she chose to
honour with the communication. Elizabeth, of England, could neither
forgive the claim of Mary Stuart nor her charms, but ungenerously
imprisoned her when imploring protection, and without the sanction
of either despotism or law, sacrificed Mary to her great and little
jealousy. Yet this Elizabeth piqued herself on chastity; and while
she practised every ridiculous art of coquetry to be admired at
an unseemly age, kept off lovers whom she encouraged, and neither
gratified her own desires nor their ambition:--who can help
preferring the honest, open-hearted, barbarian Empress?
Besides an attempt on her person, the Czarina was made to
believe that Frederic had designs on Courland, on Polish Prussia,
and Dantzick; and that France, Prussia, and Sweden had fixed a
successor if a vacancy should happen in Poland. She signed the
league with the Empress-queen, and resolved to attack the King
of Prussia. Saxony was summoned to accede, on its own terms of
having two Duchies and three Circles dismembered, on the conquest
of Prussia. Bruhl engaged his master to sign, but obtained so
much favour as to have the secret articles concealed: and having
obtained that indulgence, spared no falsehoods to deny the
existence of any secret articles at all: then endeavoured to draw
the King of England to accede to the same secret articles; and
persisted all the time in the strongest professions of friendship
to the King of Prussia. But Bruhl, as the King of Prussia said, had
more art in forming plots than in concealing them; and having to
do with a vigilant Prince, whose own practice had taught him not
to trust to professions, every lie that was despatched from the
Secretary’s office at Dresden was accompanied with a duplicate to
Berlin. Bruhl, so indefatigable and so cautious, little thought
that Frederic knew all his secrets before they reached the places
of their destination.
Had the King of Prussia wanted intelligence, the preparations of
his great enemies, and the folly of his little ones, would have
alarmed him. The troops of the two Empresses were in motion, yet
neither so much as professed an intention of succouring the King of
England their ally. The Empress-queen excused herself in form, when
her assistance, so dearly purchased, was demanded. The Muscovite
Empress was raising forces against the new ally of Britain with
the very money she had received to hold her troops in readiness
for England: and the Court of Saxony, to facilitate their junction
with the Austrian forces cut a new road to Bohemia, which Bruhl had
the ostentatious imprudence to christen in an inscription, _the
military road_. The King of Prussia was the only object against
whom all these armaments could be levelled; and they were intended
to crush him as early as the year 1755: yet the contracting powers
had acted with so little providence, that not one of them had
magazines, arms, provisions, or money sufficient to set their
great machine in motion. The Czarina, though mistress of such a
continent, had neither sailors, nor soldiers, nor treasure; and
having begun to march her troops, was reduced to recall them, and
to accept a million of florins from Vienna. The Empress-queen had
affected great economy and regulation of her finances; but the sums
that were squeezed from the subject, as a foundation of frugality,
were wasted on buildings, and ceremonies, and pageants. The Emperor
indeed was rich, and banker to his wife: she indulged him in this
only pleasure: surrounded by the frightfullest Maids of Honour that
she could select, she permitted him to hoard what she never let him
have temptation or opportunity to squander.
However, towards the middle of the summer of 1756, the bomb was
ready to burst; and Frederic (as he wrote to his uncle of England,)
saw it was more prudent “_prævenire quam præveniri_.” Yet, by no
means ambitious of a defensive war, and fully apprised that the
first stroke he should strike would set his Crown, his reputation,
his life at stake, he attempted to avert the storm; at least,
resolved to convince Europe that he was not the aggressor. He
asked of the Empress-queen the meaning of those mighty armaments.
She gave him an evasive answer. He demanded a categoric one;
concluding his letter with these words,--“_Point de reponse en
style d’oracle._” Yet the Pythian, though she grew more haughty,
was not less enigmatic. He had told her that he would take an
ambiguous answer as a hostile declaration: accordingly, towards the
end of August, at a great supper, the King of Prussia whispered
Mitchell, the British resident, to come to him at three in the
morning, when he carried him to his camp, and told him, there were
a hundred thousand men setting out that instant, they knew not
whither; and bade him write to his master, that he was going to
defend his Majesty’s dominions and his own. He ordered two Armies
into Upper and Lower Silesia, assembled another body at Glatz,
and left another in Prussia to oppose the Russians. Yet, though
Frederic knew that his most numerous and most determined enemies
were in Bohemia, he would not venture to leave Saxony behind him.
He marched with another Army to Leipsic, and dispatched a sixth to
Dresden--yet again endeavoured peace. A third time he sent to the
Empress-Queen, that if she would give a positive assurance of not
attacking him that year or the next, he would directly withdraw
his troops: she refused that satisfaction--and Saxony fell an
instantaneous sacrifice. The King of Poland, however, was so far
prepared as to have encamped his little Army in the only strong
situation he had; to which, on the approach of the Prussian army,
he withdrew. Frederic, with insulting politeness, sent word to
Augustus, that he had ordered relays of post-horses to be prepared
for him, if he chose, as it was the season of holding the Diet, to
go to Poland. He promised his protection to the Royal Family and
Civil Officers, “_Jusqu’à votre ministre_,” said he, “_qui est trop
au dessous de moi pour le nommer_.” He lamented Augustus being in
the hands of a man, whom he offered to prove guilty of the grossest
conspiracies.
Dresden was not an easier conquest than a contented one. They
were rigid Protestants, offended by a bigoted Catholic Court, and
ruined by an oppressive Court. They were charmed to see a King at
Church, and with pleasure remembered Frederic at their devotions
when he conquered them before. Augustus, and Bruhl, and 12,000 men
were in the strong camp at Pirna; the Queen and Saxon Royal Family
remained at Dresden. Keith was ordered to search the archives there
for the original pieces, of which Frederic had the copies in his
hands. The Queen made all the resistance in her power, and told the
Marshal that, as his master had promised to use no violence, all
Europe would exclaim against this outrage--“And then,” said she,
with spirit, “_you_ will be the victim. Depend upon it, your King
is a man to sacrifice you to his own honour.” Keith was startled,
and sent for further orders; and on receiving reiteration of them,
possessed himself of the papers, though the Queen herself sat on
the most material trunk, and would not rise, till he convinced her
that he could not avoid proceeding to force.
Frederic, in the meantime, was employed in straitening the camp at
Pirna, and unavoidably wasted the season for pushing into Bohemia
before the Austrians were well prepared to receive him. General
Brown advanced to disengage the Saxons, and Keith, who was ready
to check his progress, wrote to the King that he was on the point
of giving battle. Frederic, leaving Augustus blocked up, posted
away to his little Army, and arrived just in time to command the
charge. The battle was fought at Lowoschutz on September 29th.
The Prussians were not above 25,000 men; Brown had double their
number; yet Frederic thought himself, or endeavoured to be thought,
victorious. The inveteracy between the contending nations was
remarkable, but the bravery of the Prussians most signalized, eight
squadrons sustaining the efforts of thirty-two of Austrians. Brown
retired a little; but with so much order, and he and Piccolomini
remained so firmly entrenched, that the King would not venture to
renew the attack. With the same vivacity of expedition with which
he had left it, he returned to his Army besieging that of Augustus.
October 11th, Brown, with 15,000 select men, made forced marches
to arrive on the back of the camp of Pirna. This was in private
concert with the Saxons, who, flinging a bridge over the Elbe at
Konigstein, passed the river on the 12th under favour of a foggy
night. Darkness and the mist dispersing ere they had made four
leagues, to their amazement they found the King of Prussia between
them and the Austrians, and master of all the defiles. He advised
them to return to their camp. They prepared to follow an advice
which it was to no purpose to reject, but, to the increase of their
astonishment, found that this universal man had battered down their
bridge. They laid down their arms. Augustus shut himself up in the
castle of Konigstein, where Frederic sent word to the Queen that
she would be indulged in visiting him; and that care was taken to
furnish her Lord with provisions and diversions.
I have abridged this narrative as much as possible. From this time,
the King of Prussia was too much connected with our affairs to be
passed over in silence; but his actions have been too singular and
too splendid to want illustration from a private annalist. Europe
was the tablet on which he has written his own memoirs with his
sword, as he will probably with his pen. Besides, I live too near
the times, and too far from the scene of action, to be able to
penetrate into the exact detail of his campaigns and measures, and
to winnow the truth from such a variety of interested, exaggerated,
contested relations, as are at once produced by eminent glory,
and strive to obscure it. I shall observe the same circumspection
whenever I have further occasion to mention this extraordinary man.
FOOTNOTES:
[61] Lord Torrington.
[62] In one of the hearings on this cause, Lord Mansfield, the
Chief Justice, produced in court a libel published against Princess
Emily, and insisted that the jury should take an oath that they had
no hand in it--and yet, when they had taken the oath, he put off
the cause!
[63] Elizabeth, half-sister of the Duke of Newcastle, was first
wife of Charles Lord Viscount Townshend, Knight of the Garter,
grandfather of Mr. Charles Townshend.
[64] Mr. Charles Townshend had married the Countess Dowager of
Dalkeith, first cousin of the Earl of Bute.
[65] A Captain Cunningham, who had been ill-used in our service,
and was retired to Leghorn, said, “They will want engineers,”--and
immediately sold all he had, bought provisions and ammunition,
and flung himself into St. Philip’s. This gallant man died in the
island of Guadaloupe, at the taking of which he served, in 1759.
[66] They offered him the Duchy of Lancaster for life, with a
pension of 2000_l._ a year; permission to remain Attorney-General
(which produced 7000_l._ a year), and the reversion of the first
Teller of the Exchequer for his nephew, Lord Stormont. At the
beginning of October they bid up to 6000_l._ a year in pension.
They pressed him to stay but a month, nay, only to defend them
on the first day. Was innocence ever so extravagant, or so
alarmed?--“Good God!” said Murray himself, “what merit have I, that
you should load this country, for which so little is done with
spirit, with the additional burthen of 6000_l._ a year?”
[67] Vide Appendix.