The manifest favor of France had forever enrolled Lord Chatham among the opponents of the recognition of American independence. He carried to the House a proposal to cease hostilities and enter upon a negotiation with the revolted colonies, under one sole condition, that of submission to the mother-country. In the violent discussion raised on this subject, Lord Suffolk desired to defend the cruel practices of the Indian savages who were tolerated in the service of Great Britain. Lord Chatham rose in his place, forgetting that he had lately accepted the same auxiliaries during the war against the French in Canada. "My lords," he exclaimed, "have we heard aright? Men, Christians, profane the royal majesty at the very side of the throne. God and nature have placed these arms in our hands, you are told. I do not know what ideas may be conceived of God and of nature, but I know that these abominable principles are equally contrary to religion and to humanity. What! shall the sanction of God and of nature be attributed to the cruelties of the Indian scalping-knife, to cannibal savages who torture, massacre, devour—yes, my lords, who devour the mutilated victims of their barbarous combats? And on whom have you let loose these infidel savages? On your brothers in faith, in order to devastate their country, in order to desolate their dwellings, in order to extirpate their race and their name!"
The proposals of Lord Chatham were rejected, but the situation had already changed. Shortly after the arrival of M. de la Fayette in America, the battle of Brandywine, in which he had taken part as major-general, had been disastrous to the Americans; the young volunteer had been wounded. At Germantown fate had been equally against the colonists, and they had been forced to evacuate Philadelphia, the aim of General Howe's operations. They had fallen back on Valley Forge. General Washington had cleverly established his camp there for the winter. Nevertheless, successes at other points counterbalanced and even outweighed the reverses. On the frontiers of Canada the English general Burgoyne, obstinate and presumptuous, had been defeated by General Gates. Being deceived in his hope of being succored by Howe or by Clinton, who was commanding at New York, he was left to be surrounded by the English troops. Deprived of provisions and supplies, without resources and without means of communication, Burgoyne, at the end of his strength, was, after an heroic resistance, forced to lay down arms and capitulate at Saratoga, on the 17th of October, 1777. He obtained honorable conditions, but the soldiers, while free to return to Europe, were bound not to serve any more against America. Gates was an Englishman; he did not wish to witness the humiliation of his countrymen, and he did not assist at the defile of General Burgoyne's troops. For the first time on American territory, European arms were given up. The echo was immense in Europe, and seconded Franklin's efforts at Paris. On the 6th of February, 1778, France officially recognized the independence of the United States; a treaty of alliance was concluded with the new power, which thus took rank among nations. Two months later, on the 13th of April, a French squadron, under the command of Count d'Estaing, set sail towards America, and soon hostilities were being carried on in the British Channel between the French and English ships, without declaration of war, owing to the natural pressure of circumstances and the state of feeling in the two countries.
At the very moment when France was according to the American revolt that support which she had secretly afforded it for more than two years, Lord North, forcing the hand of King George III., proposed two bills to Parliament, by which England renounced the right to levy taxes in the American colonies and recognized the legal existence of Congress. Three commissioners were to be sent to the United States to treat concerning the conditions of peace. "The humiliation and sorrow were great and were legible on all countenances," said an ocular witness; "no one gave any sign of approbation, and silence succeeded the minister's speech." The propositions were, however, voted without serious opposition. Necessity pressed upon all spirits with sad bitterness.
Public sentiment in England, as well as in Parliament, blamed the weakness of the government. Lord North felt it, and on the 14th of March, 1778, on the receipt of the French letter ironically assuring King George III. of the continuation of Louis XVI.'s peaceful intentions, the minister had advised the king to recall his ambassador from Paris and to form a new cabinet at home. It was with profound repugnance that the monarch consented to make advances to Lord Chatham; the demands of the great orator were so haughty that the negotiations remained suspended. The king made a last appeal to Lord North. "Will you abandon me in the moment of danger, like the Duke of Grafton?" he asked. The Duke of Richmond had just made a proposition for the recall of the troops fighting on land and sea in America (7th April, 1778).He relied on the support of Lord Chatham, but anti-French passion in this unbalanced and proud soul surmounted all abstract considerations of right and justice. He had formerly said, "You will never conquer America. Your efforts will continue vain and powerless. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, so long as foreign forces marched against my country, I would never lay down my arms—never! never!" The intervention of France in the struggle had modified the views of the great minister who had so long followed her with his hatred. He desired her, above all things, to be humiliated and conquered. The recognition of American independence became impossible, encouraged as it was by the House of Bourbon. The Earl had himself carried to Westminster, supported on one side by his son William, on the other by his son-in-law, Lord Mahon. He was nothing more than the shadow of himself—pale, emaciated, and with difficulty drawn from his bed of suffering. He rose slowly, supported by his crutch and leaning heavily on his son's shoulder. His voice was hollow and failing, his words broken. The transient gleams of his genius alone animated the supreme effort. "I thank God," said he, "that I have been enabled to come here to-day to accomplish a duty and to say what has heavily weighed upon my heart. I have already one foot in the grave: I am going there soon. I have left my bed to sustain in this House the cause of my country, perhaps for the last time. I congratulate myself, my lords, that the grave has not yet closed over me, and that I yet live to raise my voice against the dismemberment of this ancient and noble monarchy. My lords, his Majesty has succeeded to an empire as vast in its extent as it is illustrious in its reputation. Shall we tarnish its lustre by the shameful abandonment of its rights and of its finest possessions? Shall the great kingdom which has survived in its entirety the descents by the Danes, the incursions of the Scots, the conquest of the Normans, which has stood firm before the threatened invasion of the Spanish army, fall to-day before the House of Bourbon? Truly, my lords, we are greater than we were. If it be absolutely necessary to choose between peace and war, if peace cannot be preserved with honor, why not declare war without hesitation? My lords, everything is better than despair; let us at least make an effort. If we are to yield, let us yield like men."
[Image]The Last Speech Of The Earl Of Chatham.
He let himself fall back on his seat exhausted and fainting. Soon he tried to rise in order to answer the Duke of Richmond; his strength failed him; for the last time the wavering flame of this great torch had flung out its brilliancy. A weakness seized him. The House, silent and anxious, surrounded him. They carried out the great orator, the illustrious adversary of France who had lately conquered her, and who was about to succumb while yet following her "with his sad and inflexible looks." [Footnote 5]
[Footnote 5: Bossuet,Sur le Cardinal de Retz.]
Some days later he breathed his last in his country house at Hayes, encompassed by national regret and respect, and soon afterwards was buried at the expense of the state in Westminster Abbey. He was to await his son there only twenty-seven years—that son who was the enthusiastic witness of his glory, the emulator of his eloquence and political virtues; who was greater than he in the governance of his country, and who sleeps at his feet without other monument than a simple name, "William Pitt," without other epitaph than the funeral oration which his father, with outstretched arm, seems constantly to pronounce over his tomb.
The proposals of the Duke of Richmond had been rejected, but Lord North's bills had excited great uneasiness in Washington's mind. He knew better than any one else at what price the war had been hitherto sustained; he dreaded for his country those concessions which had no effect upon his own soul. He wrote immediately to his friends, "Accept nothing that is not independence. We can never forget the outrages which Great Britain has made us suffer; a peace on other conditions would be a source of perpetual broils. If Great Britain, impelled by her love of tyranny, sought anew to bend our foreheads beneath the yoke of iron—and she would do it, be certain, for her pride and ambition are indomitable—what nation would hereafter believe in our professions of faith and lend us her aid? It is now to be feared that the proposals of England may have great effect in this country. Men are naturally friendly to peace; and more than one symptom leads me to believe that the American people are generally tired of war. If it is so, nothing is more politic than to inspire confidence in the country by putting the army on an imposing footing, and giving a greater activity to our negotiations with the European powers. I believe that at the present hour France ought to have recognized our independence, and that she is going to declare war immediately on Great Britain."
From natural taste and from English instinct, Washington did not care for France and had no confidence in her. M. de la Fayette alone had been able to make conquest of his affection and esteem. He raised himself, however, above his peculiar inclinations, and felt the need of an efficient alliance with the great continental powers which were enemies or rivals of England.Congress had just declined all negotiation with Great Britain as long as an English soldier remained on American soil. On all seas the English and French fleets obstinately engaged each other. In the naval combat in sight of Ouessant, on the 27th of July, 1778, success remained doubtful. The English were accustomed to be the conquerors, and Admiral Keppel was put on trial. The merchant shipping of France, however, suffered great loss. On all sides English vessels covered the sea.
Franklin had recently said, with penetrating foresight, "It is not General Howe who has taken Philadelphia; it is Philadelphia which has taken General Howe." The necessity of guarding this important place had obstructed the operations of the English. Upon the news of the alliance of France with the United States and of the departure of Count d'Estaing's squadron, orders had been given to evacuate the place and to fall back on New York. Howe had been actively pursued by Washington, who had gained a serious advantage over him at Monmouth. The victory would have been decisive but for a jealous disobedience on the part of General Lee. Sir Henry Clinton had taken the chief command of the English army, being more active than his predecessor, while himself insufficient to struggle against Washington. "I do not know whether they cause fear to the enemy," said Lord North, ironically; "what I do know is that they make me tremble whenever I think of them." Washington established his camp thirty miles from New York. "After two years of marches and countermarches," he exclaimed; "after vicissitudes so strange that no war, perhaps, has ever presented their like since the commencement of the world, what a subject of satisfaction and astonishment it is for us to see the two armies returned to their starting-point and the assailants reduced, in order to their defence, to recur to shovel and pickaxe."
An expedition contrived by General Sullivan against Rhode Island, which was still occupied by an English corps, had just failed, by reason of a clever manœuvre of Admiral Howe. The weather was bad, and the French admiral put into Boston to repair his damages. The cry of treason was forthwith raised; a riot greeted the Count d'Estaing: all the violence of the democratic and revolutionary spirit seemed let loose against the allies, who had lately been hailed with such warmth. The efforts of Washington, seconded by the Marquis de la Fayette, were employed to re-establish harmony. Borne away by an ill-considered reaction, Congress conceived the idea of attempting, in conjunction with France, a great expedition on Canada. Washington, being tardily consulted, refused his assent; he preserved, in respect of French policy, a prudent mistrust. "Shall we allow," wrote he to the president of Congress, "shall we allow a considerable body of French troops to enter Canada and to take possession of the capital of a province which is attached to France by all the ties of blood, manners, and religion? I fear that this would be to expose that power to a temptation too strong for every government directed by ordinary political maxims. … I believe I can read on the faces of some persons something besides the disinterested zeal of simple allies: I am willfully deceiving myself; perhaps I am too much given over to the fear of some misfortune; but above everything, sir, and putting aside every other consideration, I am averse to increasing the number of our national obligations."
The project against Canada was tacitly abandoned. The Marquis de la Fayette set out for France, ever ardently attached to the American cause, which he was soon to serve efficaciously in Paris, with the government of Louis XVI.
The English had just made a descent on Georgia, had taken 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.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.]
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 theCorogne;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 theSurveillantewith theQuebecwas 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.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."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.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 arendezvousto Arnold.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."
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."
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."
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.
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.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.
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."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."
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."
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.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.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 theGlorieux," 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, theVille 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 theFormidablehas 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.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 theHeros, 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 theHeros." 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.