To Lose an Empire: British Strategy and Foreign Policy, 1758–90 9781350216051, 9781350216068, 9781350224254, 9781350216082

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To Lose an Empire

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To Lose an Empire British Strategy and Foreign Policy, 1758–90 JEREMY BLACK

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BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2021 Copyright © Jeremy Black, 2021 Jeremy Black has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. Cover design: Terry Woodley Cover image: View of Fort George, with the city of New York from the south-west © Bonhams, London, UK / Bridgeman Images All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their permissions for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologizes for any errors or omissions and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Black, Jeremy, 1955– author. Title: To lose an empire : British strategy and foreign policy in America,1758–90 / Jeremy Black. Other titles: British strategy and foreign policy in America, 1758–90 Identifiers: LCCN 2020050404 (print) | LCCN 2020050405 (ebook) | ISBN 9781350216068 (paperback) | ISBN 9781350216051 (hardback) | ISBN 9781350216075 (epub) | ISBN 9781350216082 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Great Britain–Foreign relations–1760–1789. | Great Britain–Politics and government--1760-1789. | Great Britain--Colonies–America--History–18th century. Classification: LCC DA510 .B553 2021 (print) | LCC DA510 (ebook) | DDC 327.410709/033—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020050404 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020050405 ISBN:

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Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters. iv

For Gigi Salomon

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CONTENTS

Preface viii Abbreviations xi

Introduction

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1 The Means of Policy

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2 The Context of Debate

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3 To Win America, 1758–60 4 Winning a Peace, 1761–3

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5 A Post-war Order? 1763–70

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6 Muddling Through? 1771–4

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7 Strategies under Pressure, 1775–8 8 Strategies Collapse, 1778–82 9 Picking up the Pieces, 1783–90 10 Conclusions

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127 149

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Selected Further Reading 175 Index 179

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PREFACE

I thought formerly I could easily form an idea of a battle from the accounts I heard from others, but I find everything short of the horrid sense, and it seems almost incredible that any can escape the incessant fire and terrible hissings of bullets of all sizes, the field of battle after is melancholy, four or five miles of plain covered with human bodies dead and dying, miserably butchered dead horses, broken wheels and carriages, and arms of all kind . . . in the morning on the ground in our tents was pools of blood and pieces of brain. RICHARD BROWNE AFTER BRITISH VICTORY OVER THE FRENCH AT MINDEN, 17591

Reshaping sounds almost pleasant, like remodelling a house, but the reshaping of the British empire from 1758 to 1790 was violent and contentious. It was also important, and this combination of descriptions captures the intention of this book which seeks to offer an insight on a key period of British history, a key period, moreover, that was to be crucial for the history of the world. War, geopolitics and foreign policy can too readily be disembodied if the focus is on systems and on accounts of development that rely on mechanistic or organic explanations and/or metaphors. Such a course is overly seductive to modern academics, and appears reasonable when contemporaries employed the language of system. I shall address both contemporary and subsequent approaches in this book, but first let us underline that at every stage we are dealing with individuals, their ideas and their experiences; and that these take precedence over alleged structural determinants. Humans could not overcome the environment, and notably so in the case of the weather that was so important for naval operations. Nevertheless, human agency was seen at every level, from differences in morale and effectiveness on the battlefield, to the choices of ministers and commanders, and the

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Browne to his father Jeremy, 14 Aug. 1759, BL. RP. 3284.

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arguments of politicians and writers. To that end, there will be quotations that reveal opinion and experience, and, as this is a period of war, and one in which conflict was fundamental to the transformation of circumstances, we will use many to throw light on military factors. To leave these aside, or to a secondary position, is to fail to capture the dynamics of the fundamental and important changes in the Atlantic world. A commonplace modern image of Georgian Britain is of ease and elegance, but war was to the fore, with, in particular, Britain at war with France in this period from 1754 to 1763 and 1778 to 1783, but also close to war on other occasions as in 1770, 1787 and 1790. There was also the War of American Independence from 1775 to 1783, as well as major conflicts in India. All books are written with a purpose, and it should be to the fore if authors expect the attention of readers. I place the purpose foremost here because I want to make clear how I see the elements that follow interlinking. In essence this is an argument about the indeterminacy of the past, and, therefore, of the present and the future. Discussion of the rise of the British empire is apt to be schematic, with emphasis on the particular strengths of the British system, notably its political economy, its mercantile ethos, and its naval administration. There is also a linked account of Britain’s international system and, more particularly, foreign policy, arguing that the degree of Continental (European) interventionism secured allies providing a vital diversion of French resources. Against this background, failure in the War of American Independence (1775–83) is explained by the particular strengths of the American Revolution combined with the absence of Continental interventionism and, therefore a British isolation that posed unique problems. All of these elements were indeed significant, but I wish to suggest that each was less clear-cut than is stated or implied in the standard accounts. As a result, I wish to argue for a degree of uncertainty and unpredictability that was vitally important when assessing circumstances and possible developments, a degree that should be central to modern discussion of the period. Moreover, I wish to discuss how the period developed a distinctly different view and approach to foreign policy from that of the years after the Glorious Revolution, albeit one that also brought to the fore ideas present in the policy debates of those years. I am most grateful to the many archivists who have helped my work, not least, in several cases, by allowing me to work repeatedly in the archives when they were otherwise shut to the public, and also to go to the stacks to read material. I am especially grateful to the Marquess of Bute, Earl Fitzwilliam and the Wentworth Woodhouse Trustees, and John WestonUnderwood, for permission to consult their collections of manuscripts. This book could be seen as a sequel to my British Politics and Foreign Policy, 1744–57. Mid-Century Crisis (Farnham, 2015). Any book that seeks to bridge the Seven Years’ War and the War of American Independence, as well as strategy and foreign policy, risks doing

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neither well. That I have been able even to attempt the task reflects the wealth of scholarship on these subjects. I indeed see my work as a result of being part of a wider academic community in which all benefit from, and interact with, the work of others. I would like to pay tribute to the valuable work of other scholars including, most recently, Stephen Conway and Brendan Simms, and, for an earlier vintage, Reed Browning, Paul Langford, Marie Peters, Geoffrey Rice, Michael Roberts, Karl Schweizer, and Hamish Scott, all of whom I am, or at least was, fortunate to know. This list is not exhaustive, as others have also proved an inspiration. Of course, there were, and are, disagreements in the assessment of the period, some of them fierce, but that is how the study of the past should proceed, testing assumptions through informed debate. If I do not agree with all of the scholars, I admire their scholarship. I also owe a particular debt to Nigel Aston, Rodney Atwood, Stan Carpenter, Grayson Ditchfield, Bill Gibson, Karl Schweizer and two anonymous reviewers, who have kindly commented on earlier drafts. They are not responsible for any of the errors that remain. Readers’ eyes can easily slip across such sentences, but I have always profited greatly from a critical reading of my work. I know the time and effort it takes, and see such readings, both by others and by myself, as a central aspect of friendship and scholarship. I am grateful to Judy Tither for all her help with the copy editing and to Merv Honeywood for being an exemplary production manager. It is a great pleasure to dedicate this book to Gigi Salomon, a fun friend with a good sense of history.

ABBREVIATIONS

Add.

Additional Manuscripts

AE.

Paris, Archives du Ministère des Affaires Étrangères

AM.

Archives de la Marine

AN.

Paris, Archives Nationales

Ang.

Angleterre

AST.

Turin, Archivio di Stato

Aut.

Autriche

Beinecke

New Haven, Connecticut, Beinecke Library

BL.

London, British Library, Department of Western Manuscripts

Bod.

Oxford, Bodleian Library

Bowood

Bowood collection, Shelburne papers, formerly in Bowood House

CO.

Colonial Office papers

Cobbett

W. Cobbett (ed.), Parliamentary History of England (36 vols, London, 1806–20)

CP.

Correspondance Politique

CRO.

County Record Office

Eg.

Egerton manuscripts

Esp.

Espagne

Farmington

Farmington, Connecticut, Lewis Walpole Library

FO.

Foreign Office papers

Fortescue

J.B. Fortescue (ed.), The Correspondence of King George the Third from 1760 to 1783 (6 vols, London, 1927–8)

HL.

San Marino, California, Huntington Library

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ABBREVIATIONS

Ing.

Inghilterra

IO.

India Office papers

LM.

Lettere Ministri

MD.

Mémoires et Documents

MO.

Montagu papers

MS

Mount Stuart, Bute, papers of the third Earl

Munich

Munich, Hauptstaatsarchiv, Bayerischer Gesandtschaft

NA.

London, National Archives

NAS.

Edinburgh, National Archives of Scotland

NLS

Edinburgh, National Library of Scotland, Department of Manuscripts

Polit. Corr.

R. Koser (ed.), Politische Correspondenz Friedrichs des Grossen (Berlin, 46 vols, 1879–1939).

RA.

Windsor Castle, Royal Archives

Rigs.

Copenhagen, Danske Rigsarchiv, England B, Dispatches

SP.

State Papers

Stowe

Stowe manuscripts

STG.

Stowe Grenville papers

WO.

War Office papers

WU.

Weston Underwood papers

WW.

Sheffield, Archives, Wentworth Woodhouse papers

Notes on currency, spelling and titles There were twenty shillings and 240 pence in the pound sterling. Thus, a shilling would equal five new pence. Spelling and punctuation have been modernised. Where possible, well-established anglicised forms have been used for both place and personal names. The length of noble titles and of titles of office has dictated their shortening. ‘The Continent’ and ‘Continental’ refer to the European mainland, and ‘the West’ and ‘Western’ to the territories of Christian Europe including overseas colonies. Place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated. Folio numbers are only given for foliated volumes.

Introduction In the mid-eighteenth century, Britain was in a battle for survival and very much saw itself in that light. Major French invasion attempts were mounted or planned in 1744, 1745–6, and 1759, while an army of Jacobite rebels reached Derby in its projected advance on London in late 1745. The Seven Years’ War (1756–63), known in America as the French and American War and dated correctly, as far as hostilities were concerned, to 1754–63, began with a series of disasters, most spectacularly the loss of Minorca to the French in 1756 after Admiral Byng had failed to relieve it, and also a series of failures at the hands of French forces in North America in 1754–7, notably General Edward Braddock’s disastrous expedition to Fort Duquesne (Pittsburgh) in 1755. Moreover, in terms of alliances, Britain’s alliance system with Austria and Russia, the basis of its foreign policy, collapsed in 1755–6. Britain was left allied with Frederick II, ‘the Great,’ of Prussia (r. 1740–86), whose vulnerability was very apparent and who was not able to threaten France with invasion, as Britain’s allies had done in earlier conflicts, most recently the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–8). That was the background to a major reversal in fortune from 1758, one that was to move, via 1759, ‘the Year of Victories’, to a new territorial order with Britain dominant in North America. In turn, and totally unexpectedly, that order was to be undermined, not by conflict with other European powers, but due to the first of the wars of independence that in combination reset the New World in 1775–1825. However, the War of American Independence or American Revolution, and the contrasting terms are instructive, also, from 1778, became part of a French war of revanche; and from 1779 of a Spanish one. With Britain threatened with invasion by both those powers in 1779, it entered a new age of crisis that appeared an apt counterpart to Edward Gibbon’s writing about the fall of Imperial Rome. Furthermore, domestic political strains repeatedly tested the governmental system very hard in 1780–4. And then, the ‘whirligig of fortune’ brought in a different period. Alongside fears in 1783–7 that France would press on to make fresh gains at Britain’s expense, including intervening in Ireland, there was from 1784 a period of 1

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domestic stabilization. The ministry of William Pitt the Younger (the second son of William Pitt the Elder, who had played a key role in the earlier narrative of the rise to glory) was able to recover Britain’s international position, a process cemented in 1790 with the overawing of France and Spain in the Nootka Sound Crisis. Part of the recovery was an improvement in relations with the newly-independent America, although serious strains between the two powers were to re-emerge in the 1800s and to lead to war in 1812–15. The struggle not only put Britain under strain, affecting politics, economy, society and culture,1 but also reshaped its empire and with that, in particular, the Atlantic world. Having been anxious about the security of its North American colonies, Britain became the great power in North America, only to face not only a revolution there but also one it could not suppress. The wider consequences of that are a key part of the story. So, also, with the transformation of Britain to exert its strength more widely, including briefly in the Philippines in 1762, to establish long-lasting bases, as at Penang in modern Malaysia in 1786, and Botany Bay in Australia in 1788, and to develop ambitions for links with China. The geopolitics of empire was greatly changed in this crucial period, with India in particular far more of significance for Britain than hitherto.2 Meanwhile, Britain’s ability to avoid war on the Continent between 1763 and 1793 ensured that military expenditure could be focused on the navy, where Britain enjoyed a comparative advantage, rather than on the army where she did not. A brief narrative underlines the multiple unpredictabilities of the period, and, linked to this, the extent to which the complexities of the interaction of different spheres were accentuated by a lack of surety about developments and, related to that, an absence of any sense of security. Moreover, war took the rollercoaster of foreign policy through the prism of public attention. The prospect of alliance or enmity was pushed to the fore, and in a context in which reports and rumours swirled, amidst hope and fear, and alongside the pressure of contradiction. Indeed, the willingness of politicians and others to contradict the moves made by the ministry could win a ready audience in wartime, and that obliged ministers to defend their policies in a different political world to that found elsewhere in Europe. This situation has to be borne in mind when considering ‘strategic formulation’ or ‘planning’, because it was the pressure of the moment that was always to the fore, and the ministry had to respond, not only in Britain but also in the colonies, to very differing and competing senses of interest.3

F. De Bruyn and S. Regan (eds), The Culture of the Seven Years’ War. Empire, Identity, and the Arts in the Eighteenth-Century Atlantic World (Toronto, 2014). 2 G.J. Bryant, ‘The Military Imperative in Early British Expansion in India, 1750–1785’, IndoBritish Review, 21, 2 (1996): 18–35. 3 J.J. McCusker and R.R. Menard, The Economy of British America 1607–1789 (Williamsburg, VA, 1985); S.J. Hornsby, British Atlantic, Atlantic Frontier. Spaces of Power in Early Modern British America (Lebanon, NH, 2005). 1

CHAPTER ONE

The Means of Policy Process and means suggest clarity and order, but that was scarcely the case for foreign policy and strategy in this period. There was no real word for the latter yet,1 and no clear institutional location for the practice of the activity. Indeed, partly due to this, strategy was not really separated from foreign policy, and it would be mistaken today to analyse them as if they were, or are, readily separable. In turn, the processes by which foreign policy was formulated and executed reflected not only the variety of means represented by the term foreign policy, but also the wide range of institutions and practices that focused on the relationships between foreign policy, military planning, government and politics. There were formal and informal processes, of policy, strategy, government and politics; and interaction and overlap in a governmental system that was far from bureaucratic, and in a political practice that encompassed the internal workings of government as well as the more conventional pressures on government. Allowing for this, there was, nevertheless, a progression from the Crown, to Secretaries of State, military leaders, other ministers, diplomats, prominent politicians not in office, political groupings, Parliament, mercantile lobbies, the culture of print, and public opinion; although the categories could, and did, overlap, and, as part of a constitution that was far from fixed, there was no ready hierarchy nor clear causation between these elements.

The Crown The Crown was a matter of George II until 1760, as well as of the reversionary interest represented by his grandson, Prince George, later George III (r. 1760–1820). Other members of the royal family played only a minor role, notably because of the disgrace of William, Duke of Cumberland, the younger son of George II. Commander of a Hanoverian and allied force he 1

J. Black, Plotting Power: Strategy in the Eighteenth Century (Bloomington, IN, 2017). 3

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was defeated in 1757 by the advancing French at Hastenbeck and then agreed neutrality for Hanover, an independent German territory whose ruler (the Elector) was also King of Britain from 1714 to 1837. A furious George disgraced his son, although Cumberland later played a part in the politics of the new reign prior to his early death in 1765. The Convention itself highlighted the issue of Hanover for, like the neutrality convention of 1741, also extorted by advancing French forces, Klosterseven revealed the limited value to Hanover of her ruler’s greatpower diplomacy. The emptiness of such a policy without significant military force had been displayed. Although George II had benefited from, and fostered, the willingness of John, Lord Carteret (later Earl Granville) and Thomas, Duke of Newcastle to support an active Continental diplomacy that entailed the creation of an international system that would guarantee Hanover from attack, in practice the weakness of the arrangements had been clearly demonstrated in 1755–7. At that time, Hanover’s place in great power diplomacy indeed apparently lay in her vulnerability, and her consequent use by other states, notably Austria, France and Prussia, to affect British policy. Unacceptable to George II and to his British ministers, this situation helped provide a dynamic for British policy for the remainder of the reign: under George, Continental interventionism ultimately had a dynastic logic and location, which increased its vulnerability in British political terms. Indeed, in 1759, George was so driven by anger at what he saw as the neglect of Hanover, more specifically the prospect of it gaining no territory as a result of the Seven Years’ War (1756–63), that he let rip to Newcastle, then First Lord of the Treasury: expressing great dissatisfaction with us, our ingratitude in doing nothing for him, who had suffered so much for this ungrateful country. To which I took the liberty to reply that this war had been most expensive to this nation; that it would increase our national debt 30 millions; that it would be impossible for us to retain all our conquests at a peace; and that whatever advantages the Electorate should gain would be thought, by everybody, to be so far a diminution of what might have been retained for this country; and that that was the point; and the apprehension of all his servants. His Majesty then said, since you will do nothing for me, I hope you will agree to separate my Electorate from the country. . . . George [Prince of Wales] will be King; and his brother [Edward] Elector.2 George II did not pursue the issue, but remained keen to gain Hildesheim and Osnabrück for Hanover.

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BL. Add. 32899 fols 6–7.

THE MEANS OF POLICY

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Hanover, however, was a significant element in George III’s departure from the policies, assumptions and prejudices of his grandfather, underlining the significance of the Crown and the importance of Hanover as a potential issue. George III made no attempt to secure for Hanover the territories George II had sought. At the same time, Hanover was no longer a site for the conduct of British foreign policy. George II last went there, or abroad, in 1755; and, despite talking about going,3 George III never went there, or indeed abroad or to Ireland, Scotland or Wales. As a consequence, the need to establish institutional processes to conduct foreign policy while the King was abroad was no longer a factor, as it had been during the frequent and lengthy absences of William III, George I and George II. Nor was the political obligation to defend this policy from the claim that visits to Hanover were determining conduct. Subsequently, he showed greater interest in Hanover and also in his familial links with German princely families. British ministers were happy with this interest when it contributed to the success of their views.4 Hanoverian considerations indeed had a role, but not to the same extent as under the first two Georges, which lessened the political and institutional burden on ministers, notably Secretaries of State. In 1773, observing an example of ignorance by William, 4th Earl of Rochford, a Secretary of State who had served as envoy in Turin, Madrid and Paris, the Danish envoy, reported that since the death of Granville in 1763, no-one in Britain had had any idea of the internal affairs of the Holy Roman Empire.5 Born and educated in this country I glory in the name of Britain; and the peculiar happiness of my life will ever consist in promoting the welfare of a people whose loyalty and warm affection to me I consider as the great and most permanent security of my throne.6 George III’s addition to the draft for his first speech from the throne, delivered on 18 November 1760, was part of the continuance, after his accession on 25 October, of Patriot gestures and notably of differentiating himself from Hanover; but, aside from his striking of such notes, George’s personality and youth contributed to his positive reputation, Henry Fox noting of his first week as king that he received ‘in the most gracious and pleasing manner crowds of people without number (and by the way the King acts his part in public well)’.7 Patterns that emerge in hindsight can be misleading, not least because they privilege the perspective of posterity over the bitty and complex Owen’s Weekly Chronicle, 17, 31 Mar. 1764. Pitt to William Grenville, 7 Aug. 1787, BL. Add. 59070 fol. 41. 5 Hanneken to Osten, 10 Sept. 1773, Rigs. 1772. 6 George III, draft, BL. Add. 32684 fol. 121. 7 BL. Add. 51439 fol. 4. 3 4

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experience of contemporaries. Yet, there was a pattern for George leading to hard-won experience. A young man with expectations of change becomes a young king in a hurry to transform the situation. Something of a perfectionist, George, however, found reality, in the shape of the critical and/or unwilling responses of others, as well as his own limitations, repeatedly galling in the 1760s. Yet he learned to cope and played a major role in creating a new ministerial pattern that, in the person of Frederick, Lord North, First Lord of the Treasury, 1770–82, brought stability in the early 1770s. Reality, in the same shape, then brought an unexpected total breakdown in America in 1775 and, eventually, a near-political collapse in Britain in 1782–4. There was again a new start through a new ministerial system that had both the strength to bring stability in the peace years that ended in 1793, and the resilience thereafter that proved crucial in the face of repeated failures and problems in dealing with revolutionary pressures, internal and external.8 ‘Dropping the Pilot’, the famous 1890 Tenniel caricature in Punch of the young Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany dispensing with the longstanding Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck, might also seem appropriate to George’s parting with the two principal figures of the politics of the mid to late 1750s and of the wartime ministry from 1757: William Pitt the Elder, later 1st Earl of Chatham, in 1761, and of the also difficult, but less talented, Newcastle in 1762. More so, as the war was still to be finished and the peace made. The resignation of Pitt in particular helped greatly diminish George’s public reputation as a ‘Patriot King’, but this verdict was unfair as the megalomaniacal Pitt, who himself had largely abandoned the Patriot agenda in office from 1757, was never willing to share collective responsibility. An impossible figure as far as his colleagues were (correctly) concerned, Pitt’s attitude proved a focus of dissension over the move to war with Spain in late 1761: his proposal for a pre-emptive strike was rejected by the Cabinet. Yet, politics, as George was to appreciate, is not about fairness, and he, not Pitt, was blamed, then and repeatedly later, for the minister’s and ministry’s failings. Rather than acting in an unconstitutional fashion, George was a naïve idealist who, valuing integrity and fidelity, did not appreciate the nuances of politics and government. Equally, those nuances were defined and defended by self-serving politicians who were not easy to deal with, a description that (very differently) suited not only Pitt and Newcastle, but also George Grenville, First Lord of the Treasury from 1763 to 1765, and Charles, 2nd Marquess of Rockingham, his more patrician successor from 1765 to 1766. Patriotism as pursued by George, specifically the theme of a Patriot King able to unite all in the pursuit of national interests, proved, in fact, an aspiring ambience, rather than an effective practice of politics; and one, moreover, that was ill-suited to the British system, which, in this period, was, at once adversarial, institutional, populist and legalist, one that could

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J. Black, George III. Majesty and Madness (2020).

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flourish in the absence of a written constitution other than the ambiguous Bill of Rights. More than ministerial change was at issue, as George’s policy strongly reflected his support for the ideas and ideals of non-party government, and not the Toryism alleged by his critics, notably among the ‘Old Corps Whigs’. Non-party government was quite a novelty in practice, one that, despite calls for such a course, had not really been pursued since the time of William III (r. 1689–1702) when it had not brought ministerial stability. The end to party remained an aspiration, as in the political crisis of early 1784, but not really a viable one. George also thought that much about the political system was corrupt and, in part, ascribed this to the size of the national debt; and as a consequence, his moral reformism, which drew on his strong personal piety, was specifically aimed against what he saw as faction and luxury. An opposition to what was held to be corrupt in international relations was to be pushed most strongly by the French revolutionaries in the 1790s, but was also seen earlier with George’s reaction against the subsidy treaties to allies that had characterized the reigns from the Glorious Revolution. George’s popularity rapidly diminished from late 1761 because of the break with Pitt, the king’s reliance on John, 3rd Earl of Bute (whom he made First Lord of the Treasury from 1762 to 1763), dissatisfaction with the terms of the Peace of Paris of 1763, and hardship and anger resulting from post-war fiscal policies, notably the Cider Excise and the Stamp Act. The response to criticism also created issues, especially linked to the intemperate attacks in the press by John Wilkes on George, Bute and the peace. Criticism brought not only the policies and attitudes of George into dispute, but also the power of the Crown; and in the American colonies as well as Britain, leading Elizabeth Montagu to pity George ‘who sees there is a determination in the great factions to make him their slave’.9 At the same time, alongside the pronounced partisan froth and readilyapparent ministerial instability of the decade, instability on which hostile foreign envoys were apt to focus, George was greatly gaining in experience, a process encouraged in foreign policy by his reading dispatches and seeing diplomats for sometimes lengthy discussions, including, without the presence of the Secretary of State, the new French envoy in 1763.10 As leading figures from the previous reign died – Granville in 1763, Philip, Earl of Hardwicke and William, Earl of Bath in 1764, Cumberland in 1765, and Newcastle in 1768 – he felt less hedged-in. Although George found it difficult, the collapse of Bute’s influence from 1763, both politically and personally, was also important to his recovery in popularity, while George became more adroit Elizabeth to Edward Montagu, 23 Nov. 1762, HL. MO. Louis, Duke of Nivernais, to Duke of Praslin, Foreign Minister, 11 May 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 450 fol. 337; Count Viry, Sardinian envoy, to Charles Emmanuel III, 31 May 1763, AST. LM. Ing. 68. 9

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than he had been in the early 1760s. It is inaccurate, as well as too easy, to draw a direct line from the disorder in British politics in the 1760s to the chaos of the years of the War of American Independence (1775–83), or from the foreign policy of that decade to Britain’s loss of that war. George certainly lessened tension by being far less focused than his two predecessors on the Electorate of Hanover. As Prince, George, following his father, Frederick, Prince of Wales, had strongly criticized this partiality, and the related Continental interventionism in British foreign policy, both the commitment to Hanover and alliance with Prussia which came, from 1756, to be seen as a way to protect Hanover. Instead, colonial, commercial and maritime issues came to the fore in foreign policy during his reign. The break with his grandfather’s ministers was intertwined with the break with the policies of the 1750s, for it was not only that the alliance with Prussia was abandoned in 1762, as a prelude to the end of the war, but also that, despite negotiations, the gap was not filled by an alliance with another major Continental power. The motives for such an alliance – royal anxiety about Hanover, ministerial concern about this anxiety, and the sense that defensive arrangements for Hanover could, and should, serve as the basis for a British alliance system – had been largely lost. So also, in the turn towards a more prudent, and certainly circumspect, understanding of British interest and commitments, had the interventionist habit of mind and the concomitant diplomatic assumptions. In 1761, Baron Haslang, the experienced Wittelsbach envoy, anticipated correctly that there would be no returns of British conquests from France in order to make gains for Hanover,11 a course that might have been expected from George II. In 1785, responding to Russian pressure about the Hanoverian engagement with Prussia in the Fürstenbund (League of Princes), Edward, Lord Thurlow, the Lord Chancellor, who was close to George III, told the Russian ambassador: ‘we always understood in England that the politics of Hanover and England went in different channels’.12 Nevertheless, George abandoned the idea, considered by his predecessors, of separating Hanover from Britain, and his Testament of 1765 established the succession of George, his first-born, the future George IV, as heir to both. It is not credible to suggest that the British royal family would have arrived at the eventual solution for America of its Portuguese counterpart: that of one branch ruling Brazil and the other Portugal. In contrast, the end of the Anglo-Hanoverian link in 1837 was specifically due to traditional dynastic stipulations about female heirs: Queen Victoria could not inherit Hanover. By the late 1760s, George no longer had many illusions about promoting a new political culture in Britain, focusing, instead, more narrowly on the still ambitious task of charting a path between ministerial factions to create a ministry with which he could be comfortable. In the absence of parties 11 Baron Haslang, Wittelsbach envoy, to Baron Wachtendonk, Palatine Foreign Minister, 31 Mar. 1761, Munich, London, 238. 12 Thurlow to Marquess of Carmarthen, Foreign Secretary, 5 Aug. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 244.

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with clear leadership on the modern pattern, let alone with a nationwide organization, it should conceivably have been possible for George to create a ministry around the politician most acceptable to him who might be able to manage Parliament and, conversely, to keep at a distance those whom he disliked. Even if George had to accept ministers who were not his first choice (as in 1763, 1765, 1782, 1783, 1804 and 1806), it was possible for him to try to use a ministry that could manage Parliament in order to win support for royal interests and, even more, views, as with Frederick, Lord North in 1770–82, and William Pitt the Younger in 1783–1801. George, however, found this difficult earlier, both because there was no longer the binding of Whig ministers to the monarch that stemmed from a shared fear of Jacobitism, as from the accession of George I in 1714 to the late 1740s, but also as his accession was followed by a far more troubling agenda in domestic and imperial politics, an agenda which, as in 1768 at the time of the French acquisition of Corsica, was to distract him and his ambitions from attention to international affairs. George was associated with domestic issues that were contentious in their own right, and in which the role of the monarch was particularly sensitive, or appeared so; in the 1760s, this was true of the choice of ministers and, from 1765, of policy in the North American colonies. The king therefore took a close interest in politics, only to find it frequently intractable.

Ministers Secretaries of State faced a difficult task because foreign policy had to consider domestic as well as diplomatic aspects. Moreover, aside from foreign policy, the Secretaries of State were also responsible for the conduct of government activity in a wide range of domestic and colonial spheres. Prior to 1782, when the Foreign and Home Offices were established in a reform that has continued to the present, there were two Secretaries of State whose responsibilities included foreign policy as well as domestic law and order, the Northern and the Southern Secretary: the former responsible for relations with the United Provinces, Austria, Prussia and other German states, Scandinavia, Poland and Russia, while the Southern covered France, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Turkey and the Italian states. By European standards, the arrangement was exceptional and confusing, and it was certainly not always satisfactory as the Secretaries could follow different policies and clash. British policy could involve both Secretaries in the same set of negotiations, and with sometimes unfortunate consequences. In 1762, Charles, 2nd Earl of Egremont, Secretary of State for the Southern Department from 1761 to 1763, complained to the Sardinian envoy about impossible relations with Bute.13

13

Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 26 Feb. 1762, AST. LM. Ing. 67.

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And yet there were advantages. If one Secretary was in the Lords and the other in the Commons, as with Robert, 4th Earl of Holdernesse and William Pitt the Elder in 1756–61, then policy could be authoritatively defended in both Houses. Another important advantage arose from the political and personal commitments of Secretaries, so that, if one had to leave London, it was possible to have the other responsible for the conduct of all business, which was very helpful when electioneering was an issue and also when Secretaries were ill. However, the situation could go wrong, as in April 1766 when, with General Henry Conway (Southern, 1765–6; Northern, 1766–8) ill and away, the French envoy found it impossible to obtain answers on the issues covered by his Department.14 The dominance of one of the Secretaries could bring coherence to the system, as was achieved by John, 4th Earl of Sandwich (Northern) in 1763– 5. Some Secretaries, such as Pitt, Grenville (Northern, 1762), Egremont, George, 2nd Earl of Halifax (Northern, 1762–3, Southern 1763–5), Conway, Henry, 12th Earl of Suffolk (Northern, 1771–9), Charles James Fox (Foreign Secretary, 1782, 1783), and Francis, Marquess of Carmarthen (Foreign Secretary, 1783–91), had no diplomatic experience, but others were experienced diplomats, for example Holdernesse, Sandwich and, far more, Rochford in 1768–75, David, Viscount Stormont (Northern, 1779–82), and Thomas, 2nd Lord Grantham (Foreign Secretary, 1782–3); although such experience did not necessarily lead to success as Secretary. Experience was increased if an individual had successively served at both Departments, as with the insightful Rochford.15 As Secretaries had both to assess reports and to negotiate with foreign envoys, such experience was clearly valuable, and, if the nature of the ministry and of the international situation did not require a proficient parliamentarian, then a premium could better be placed on such experience. However, success as a diplomat did not necessarily lead to success in handling the Secretarial role of overseeing diplomacy, and notably of helping to decide policy, while there was no necessary relationship between these skills and the defence of policy in Parliament or, indeed, its exposition and defence in Council. Foreign diplomats frequently complained about the Secretaries of State.16 The burden upon the Secretaries of State could be lessened by the role in policy decisions of the monarch and other ministers, and more generally, foreign policy was not compartmentalized. Nor were there any consistent rules about the consultation of other ministers. Most significantly, the role of the Council and of the ‘Inner Cabinet’, a smaller, ad hoc, group of usually AE. CP. Ang. 472 fols 114, 133. G.W. Rice, The Life of the Fourth Earl of Rochford: Eighteenth-century Anglo-Dutch Courtier, Diplomat and Statesman (Lewiston, NY, 2010). 16 D’Eon to Praslin, 20 July 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 450 fol. 494; Marmora, Sardinian envoy, to Charles Emmanuel III, 1 Nov. 1763, AST. LM. Ing. 69. 14 15

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key ministers, which could play a leading role in determining policy,17 frequently dining together,18 depended on circumstances and individuals. Newcastle, a Secretary of State from 1724 to 1754, first Southern and then Northern, continued to take a close interest in foreign policy as First Lord of the Treasury from 1754 to 1757 and 1757 to 1762; and he frequently discussed matters with foreign envoys in London. More generally, the major role of ministers not formally responsible for the conduct of foreign policy created confusion, and, with the exception of discussion in the full Council, the situation was even more confusing insofar as strategy can be understood. Offering Carmarthen, who complained about a lack of Cabinet attention to foreign policy in 1784,19 his views on Anglo-Spanish relations, notably the importance and possibility of retaining Gibraltar, Charles, 3rd Duke of Richmond, the Master-General of the Ordnance, complained: I cannot help regretting that we cannot allow more time for settling at our meetings, and when we are all present, the precise words on which so much depends in such important dispatches; or at least that we could see them before they are sent away.20 Yet, other minutes make it clear that there was debate. Those of a meeting of the Privy Council at Egremont’s on 18 March 1762, saw the six present debate the draft of his letter to Count Viry about the negotiation of AngloFrench differences via the Sardinian envoys. Thus, George Grenville, the Leader of the Commons: desired to give his opinion upon the measure of making any such proposition to France which he objected to as tending to confirm the ministers of France in the sentiments which M. de Choiseul had so strongly and so grossly expressed in his billet to M. de Solar [Sardinian envoy in Paris]. That he wished for a reasonable and speedy peace as much as anyone but did not think that this paper of concessions in which scarce any point was insisted upon in behalf of England was the likely means of procuring such a peace as any of their lordships would sign. That in some instances the concessions in this paper went farther than France in the former negotiation had even demanded.21

17 Over policy toward the Dutch, Charles, 3rd Duke of Richmond to Carmarthen, 16 Nov. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 227. 18 Carmarthen (later Duke of Leeds), Political Memoranda, 20 Jan. 1784, BL. Add. 27918 fol. 106. 19 Carmarthen Political Memoranda, BL. 27918 fol. 121. 20 Richmond to Carmarthen, 26 Mar. 1786, BL. Eg. 3498 fols 233–6 [quote 233], and Carmarthen, Political Memoranda, reporting Richmond, 24 May 1784, BL. Add. 27918 fol. 122. For examples of Cabinet minutes, 29 Mar. 1762, BL. Add 57834, and references to meetings, Edward Sedgwick to Weston, 1 Feb. 1764, BL. Add. 57927 fol. 137. 21 Minutes, HL. STG. Box 14(43). It is as if Grenville can be heard speaking.

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In practice, arrangements were inherently informal and certainly much dependent on the personal standing and determination of individual ministers. Two Lord Chancellors, Hardwicke and Thurlow,22 were significant not because of their political position but as a result of their connections: Hardwicke’s with Newcastle and Thurlow’s with George III. Thurlow’s ascendancy in the Lords was the result of forceful personality, intimidating manner, and sheer ability to speak. This reliance on individual character and connections was both flexible, which was valuable, and yet likely to produce tension if particular ministers clashed with a Secretary of State and wished to have their views heeded. Ministerial meetings could defuse tension, but could also exacerbate its political effects. In 1782, the position of the Secretaries of State was totally changed when the Foreign and Home Offices were established, which made the administrative conduct and, to a degree, the political management of foreign policy less complex. Inchoate arrangements characterized government as a whole, both in its senior levels and more generally, reflecting the interrelationships of government and politics, and also the disparate nature of a political world that had to consider two distinct, though closely intertwined, political spheres and sources of power: Parliament and the Court. Moreover, there was not a bureaucratic ethos similar to that which was to prevail by the end of the nineteenth century, although that did not mean that concepts of good practice were absent. Royal actions could lead to a measure of contrary ministerial stability, as ministers co-operated to try to resist or offset views associated with the king. In general, relations between Crown and ministers were less tense or combative than divisions among ministers, and, also, less complex. The monarch could be kept in the dark, but ministers understood their role as the king’s ministers and sought royal support, and ministries that were believed to lack it appeared precarious. In addition, relationships between Secretaries of State and their colleagues depended in part on the degree of royal favour for individual ministers. Whether overt or shadowy, the monarch played a major role in most ministerial rivalries. Secretaries of State generally sought the efficient conduct of business, but any stress on method by them and/or at their behest, co-existed, and at times clashed, with the more diffuse arrangements that characterized much government in this period. Possibly diplomacy and the military were especially prone to resist method. Diplomats and commanders, aristocratic in mien if not in person, were keen to mould policy and had to respond to the pressure of the moment, and to a degree that communications made very different to the current situation, and that was especially the case in distant India. Allowance must be made for the difficulties of predicting international

22 Reading diplomatic correspondence, Thurlow to Carmarthen, 8 Dec. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 247.

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developments, the need to leave room for manoeuvre to the man on the spot, and the understaffed nature of the relevant agencies in Britain. The British system did not strike many of its diplomats as excellent, and the French counterpart was certainly more fully staffed. Even after the expansion of the revenue departments, British central bureaucracy was minute by Continental standards. However, the private diplomacy of Louis XV (r. 1715–74) summarized as the secret du roi indicated that the nature of a bureaucratic system provided scant guidance to the operation of policy. Moreover, foreign policy found French ministers divided.23 So also with its Russian and Spanish counterparts; while Frederick the Great (Frederick II of Prussia, r. 1740–86) ‘gives sometimes private instructions to his ministers residing at foreign courts without communicating them to his Secretary of State’.24 How far the relatively undifferentiated nature of the administration of British foreign and military policies affected their quality is unclear, and not readily subject to measurement. The British situation certainly depended heavily on the calibre and experience of the Secretaries, which made the position of ‘political’ Secretaries without diplomatic experience more difficult. Help, however, could be provided by experienced staff. UnderSecretaries were especially significant. Edward Weston, who served as such in 1761–4, had considerable experience having been an Under Secretary from 1729 to 1746. William Fraser, a Clerk and then Assistant Under Secretary from 1751 to 1761, was an Under Secretary from 1765 to 1789, while Stanier Porten served as an Under Secretary from 1768 to 1782. The talented James Burges, Under-Secretary from 1789 to 1795, also an MP, was to be important. The influence of such men on policy is difficult to assess, and they were generally careful not to appear in this light, but they definitely served as a vital fund of continuity in method, Fraser crucially so in bridging the divide to the Foreign Office. The British system rested on such individuals and on personal acquaintance or links. There was no coherent foreign service nor military united by nonpartisan professionalism. Instead, there was a world of politics, patronage and personal relationships in which individual connections, circumstances and good fortune, played the major part, complementing the absence of system and method in the affairs of the greater world. The bitter disputes between commanders, both in the army and in the navy, during the American War of Independence, disputes some of which were played out at length in Parliament, were symptomatic of wider tensions in the British system.

L.P. Segur, Comte de, Mémoires, ou Souvenirs et Anecdotes (5th edn, Paris, 1843), 2 vols, II, 280–1. 24 Andrew Mitchell, envoy in Berlin, to Robert Keith, 2 Ap. 1762, BL. Add. 35484 fol. 182. 23

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Parliament The role and impact of Parliament can also be seen as amorphous, and with no clear constitutional and political position. As the definer of often shifting partisan views, presented as if supposedly fixed national interests, Parliament was inherently affected by political division, a rift between sides underlined in its physical structure.25 This division compromised any attempt to sustain an agreed role and impact for Parliament, a situation that was further complicated as the identity, nature and aspirations of political groupings were far from constant. Indeed, the very existence, nature and naming of political groups were certainly not uniform, and, instead, were contentious, notably the meanings of the term Tory and Whig, the former widely used as a form of abuse. However, the very existence of a government tended to produce one rough distinction: that between those who supported the ministry of the day and those who opposed it; however divided these two groups could be and even though the situation was made more complex by the presence of independent MPs and peers. Parliament served as both an institution in which political groups could define their identity and express their views, and one in which ministerial schemes could be expounded and presented as national interests to both domestic and international audiences. In 1763, Sandwich cited the unanimity of both parliamentary addresses (those in the House of Lords and the House of Commons) as evidence ‘to demonstrate the stability of His Majesty’s government, and to refute any ill grounded surmises that may have been conceived from that spirit of licentiousness, which has but too much manifested itself in this country’.26 This was certainly the view repeatedly conveyed to British and foreign diplomats, one that was based on the ministerial juxtaposition, not of government and opposition, but of Parliament and ‘licentiousness’. These were the ministerial aspirations that underlay the attempt to secure obvious parliamentary support for foreign policy, and it was scarcely surprising that Secretaries of State kept a close eye on parliamentary debates, notably the House of Commons where, aside from the fiscal importance of the far larger House, opposition tended to be strongest and most vociferous. Ministers appreciated that such debates could greatly affect foreign views of Britain, and diplomats were instructed accordingly, as when large sums were readily voted.27 At the same time, the impact of debates on foreign governments and diplomats varied, in part because there was no fixed

25 C. Wilkinson, ‘Politics and Topography in the Old House of Commons, 1783–1834’, in G. Jones and S. Kelsey (eds), Housing Parliament. Dublin, Edinburgh and Westminster (Edinburgh, 2002), pp. 154–60. 26 NA. SP. 92/73 fol. 194. 27 Newcastle to Joseph Yorke, 11 Dec. 1761, BL. Add. 32932 fol. 123.

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understanding of British politics. For example, parliamentary majorities could be seen as the product of genuinely-held opinion or of corruption; and each view was held in Britain and abroad. What was important was that British ministers and diplomats generally believed that the results of such debates were significant abroad, which was a key aspect of the degree to which Britain had a parliamentary foreign policy, in the sense of a policy that was often expounded and debated in Parliament. Moreover, it was so for political reasons that were not related solely to Parliament’s significant fiscal powers. Debates were significant because they served to register opinion and to suggest possible changes of policy.28 For reasons of secrecy and, separately, time, Parliament, however, could only be told part of what was happening in foreign policy, and notably so in negotiations. Instead, there continued to be the working out of a process of consultation and review, whereby monarch and ministers retained the initiative over foreign policy. Parliament could debate and fund proposals and investigate outcomes, but it did not make policy. Non-government MPs, moreover, continued to lack access to information. In practical terms, the reasons for monarch and ministers to remain hesitant about discussing policy remained, as there was no automatic parliamentary support for governmental policy, and, aside from political opportunism, the particular views of specific groups could cause difficulties. The possible impact of domestic politics on Britain’s capacity to acquire and retain foreign allies was an established issue, as were the parliamentary difficulties that might spring from foreign negotiations; and the rapid breakdown of the cohesion of the ‘Old Corps Whigs’, who had been such an important force under the first two Georges, was a key element in helping bring difficulties in management to the fore. The role of Parliament as a focus for Britain’s international position was captured with the idea that Britain was especially vulnerable as a consequence, a view taken by the Emperor Joseph II and the French envoy to Austria in 1784. In 1761, the impressive Charles III of Spain, a monarch who, throughout his reign, was no friend to Britain, proposed to his ally France that he delay declaring war on Britain until the beginning of the parliamentary session in order to harm the system of public finance. This argument was a testimony not only to the role of Parliament in this system but also to the importance attached to Britain’s financial strength.29 This strength was not only a strategic resource but also a target, part of the habitual interaction of goals and means, an interaction that could also lead to confusion. The following year, Prussia’s envoy was developing links with opponents of Bute. Nevertheless, caution is necessary before pressing the wider case for a parliamentary foreign policy and strategy. It was certainly true that a measure of confidence was produced by the degree to which the composition

28 29

Weston to Mitchell, 23 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 6823 fol. 147. Noailles to Vergennes, 4 Aug. 1784, AE. CP. Aut. 348 fols 3–4; AE. CP. Esp. 533 fol. 432.

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and policy of government reflected, at least to a degree, those of the parliamentary majority. However, the role of Parliament did not prevent rulers and ministers from pursuing policies that kept other ministers in the dark. Linked to this, what successive ministries told Parliament about foreign policy and strategy was limited. At the same time, and affecting the situation, both monarch and ministries can be seen as somewhat vulnerable. Neither enjoyed complete freedom of public manoeuvre in the face of the ever-shifting and complex mix of patronage and acceptable policies that the management of Parliament and the political nation entailed or appeared to entail. Furthermore, the very course of foreign policy and strategy could make political management more of a problem, and thus could increase the chances of parliamentary difficulties and the risks of parliamentary division. Contentious policies could lead the monarch to keep some ministers in the dark or could encourage the monarch to ignore their opinion, and could lead ministries to refuse parliamentary requests for papers. Such activity, however, did not prevent the reiterations of the constitutional conventions of co-operation, and these conventions, indeed, could be maintained because government majorities could defeat opposition requests for papers, for example that in the Commons on 17 November 1768 on diplomatic correspondence over the French acquisition of Corsica. On 22 November 1770, during the Anglo-Bourbon crisis over the Falkland Islands, the government won a Lords division on papers 65–21. For disclosure, George, 1st Lord Lyttelton, earlier in his career an opposition Whig, declared: I think Parliament can never have too ample a field for information, we are the hereditary counsellors of the crown, and how are we to counsel without a particular acquaintance with facts? when are we to counsel but in times of public danger? and what are we this moment met for but to consider the business of the kingdom.30 Furthermore, royal discretion and secrecy helped, in general, to reduce the political significance of differences between monarch and ministers. The royal prerogative was considerable, and was defended in Parliament, notably by Bute on 5 February 1762 when he opposed parliamentary interference in the management of the war on the grounds that only the monarch, constitutionally, could be ‘the centre of that intelligence by which the manner of carrying on a war can be directed’.31 This situation was a functional product of the failure of the 1690s’ idea of standing parliamentary

Cobbett, XVI, 1115–16. NA. PRO. 30/8/70/5. See also Joseph Yorke to Edward Weston, 19 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 58213 fol. 76. 30 31

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committees, but also an argument of considerable political significance. The ministry won this debate in a division of 105 to 16 to the pleasure of Newcastle,32 showing that the loss of Pitt was bearable. At the same time, the ministerial speakers relied on the constitutional argument, and not a defence of policy, while ‘these sixteen were weighty’.33 An undated memorandum on peace treaties in the papers of Sir Gilbert Elliot, a supporter of Bute, the key Secretary of State because he was close to George, claimed: The King’s prerogative undoubtedly impowers him to conclude peace without laying the terms before Parliament. He may, however, ask their advice. Parliament unasked may interpose their advice. The question therefore merely upon usage. Anciently articles few and simple, not unusual to ask advice. In modern terms more complicated and branched into more particulars, scarce possible, certainly not expedient, to ask advice. Accordingly for 150 years, hardly an instance, Treaty of Utrecht [1713] excepted.34 However, the substantial Commons’ majority on the peace terms, proved a ‘full . . . testimony of national concurrence’.35 A parliamentary foreign policy and strategy did not pertain, in the sense of a policy over which Parliament, even if it had no executive functions, was nevertheless fully consulted. Nevertheless, the term is applicable with regard to a policy that had to take note of Parliament’s constitutional and political role and of parliamentary views. There were also the issues posed by the knowledge of parliamentarians, which made their suppositions, experience and prejudices of note. Monarchs and ministers certainly had to respond to the political and constitutional circumstances of the country, but the extent to which the policy of foreign powers was affected as a consequence is less clear. On 10 December 1770, during the Falkland Islands crisis, George, 4th Duke of Manchester, in a parliamentary debate criticized the state of the British naval forces at Gibraltar. In response, Granville, 2nd Earl Gower, the Lord President of the Council, called for the clearing of the Lords on the grounds that the spectators might include foreign agents.36 This was a measure that served to criticize the opposition speaker, but it is less clear that public discussion had this substantive impact, although foreign envoys sometimes attended Parliament.37

Newcastle to Bute, 6 Feb. 1762, MS. 5/39/1. George Dempster to Sir William Johnstone, 6 Feb. 1762, HL. Pulteney papers 137. 34 NLS. MS. 11036 fol. 26. 35 Walter Titley, envoy in Copenhagen, to Grenville, 28 Dec. 1762, NA. SP. 75/114 fol. 382. 36 Cobbett, XVI, 1318. 37 Guerchy to Praslin, 15 Nov. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 452 fols 155–60. 32 33

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In general, Parliament featured as a factor, active or passive, more in policy over commercial issues and Anglo-Bourbon relations, than in those with the powers of central, eastern and northern Europe, although this was not always so, and particularly so as the German commitment faced increased criticism in 1762.38 In 1763, the Grenville ministry was concerned about the domestic, as well as diplomatic, consequences of Russian terms for an alliance, which was specially so in terms of possible expenditure at a time when national indebtedness was a subject of political concern. Impressed by the fuss that parliamentarians could and did create, foreign diplomats tended to exaggerate Parliament’s influence, in part because they were mostly products of a political culture that, while often accepting the existence of representative institutions, believed that they should not debate foreign policy, and that it was an essential prerogative of royal authority. Moreover, the problems that governments did face from Parliament encouraged observers to anticipate more. There was also the attempted management of parliamentary politics by diplomats.39 In evaluating the quality of the debates, and moving beyond the obvious partisanship and determination, as North pointed out, of opponents to oppose,40 it is appropriate to note, alongside the problems of accuracy in the reports,41 the extent to which the conventions of behaviour and speech, and standards of argument and proof, were different from those of today; while the nature of the surviving evidence is scanty. Nevertheless, one of the more impressive features of the debates was the knowledge of international relations and strategy displayed by some parliamentarians. Expert opinion could be presented to Parliament, as each chamber contained serving officers, as well as several diplomats or former diplomats, and some of them contributed their knowledge to the debates. Moreover, many parliamentarians were fairly well-informed and a fair number had travelled on the Continent, making reference accordingly in Parliament,42 or had served there or elsewhere in war. A stress on the role of particular circumstances leads away from the conclusion that there was any simple relationship between parliamentary consideration of policy and, on the other, a strategy and diplomacy that was largely outside parliamentary control and knowledge. Such a stress similarly precludes any simple answer to the question of why ministries, enjoying substantial parliamentary majorities, nevertheless were, and with reason, concerned about the parliamentary implications of strategy and foreign policy, as well as the debates themselves. Strategy and foreign policy certainly

Newcastle to Hardwicke, 13 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 32934 fols 320–1. Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 26 Feb. 1762, AST. LM. Ing. 67. 40 13 Nov. 1770, Cobbett, XVI, 1049. 41 Cobbett, XVII, i. 42 Colonel Barré, Commons’ debate, 13 Nov. 1770, Cobbett, XVI, 1041. 38 39

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had a higher profile in the reporting of parliamentary debates than is the case today. However, variations arose from the particular issue in dispute, the natural desire of politicians to avoid trouble, the need to exercise persuasive powers, and the fiscal implications of policy real and perceived.43 These variations both contributed to, and reflected, the extent to which the political and constitutional conventions and arrangements summarized, in terms such as the Revolution Settlement and foreign policy, were far from fixed. Combined with an appreciation of the absence of consensus, this situation helps explain the extent and significance of parliamentary debate. Moreover, it underlines that political skills and management could be of great importance. The breakdown in the party identity seen during the reigns of George I and George II44 created a new political energy, but also new tensions, which were at play as the debate over strategy and foreign policy both continued with established themes but also re-examined the latter.

Diplomats In the formulation and implementation of strategy and foreign policy abroad, as opposed to in Britain, the relationship between ministers, on the one hand, and commanders and diplomats, on the other, reflected contrasting aspects of interaction, nuance and compromise; but they were all significant in explaining both how policy was formed and how implemented, the two frequently being aspects of the same process. Commanders answered to the Crown, while diplomats were the personal representative of the sovereign and paid from his Civil List, the money allocated by Parliament. In this representation, honour was a crucial element: the rank of official appointments was an expression of respect and trust for foreign rulers, not least because such representation was usually reciprocated at the same rank. Thus, the appointment of Ambassadors was particularly significant. So also was the social rank of the diplomat. Aristocrats could be impressive diplomats, as was William, 4th Earl of Rochford (Madrid 1763–6, Paris 1766–8), and David, Viscount Stormont (Dresden 1756–63, Vienna 1763–72, Paris 1772–8). Joseph Yorke (The Hague 1751–80) was a son of Philip, 1st Earl of Hardwicke and was, himself, promoted to the peerage, but, aside from becoming Secretary of State, as Rochford and Stormont did, there were few promotion prospects that could not be better obtained by remaining in Britain. Below aristocratic rank, talented diplomats included Robert Keith (Vienna, 1748–57), St Petersburg 1758–62), his son, Robert Murray Keith (Dresden 1769–71, Copenhagen, 1771–2, Vienna, 1772–92), Andrew Mitchell (Berlin

43 44

J. Black, Parliament and Foreign Policy in the Eighteenth Century (Cambridge, 2004). D’Eon to Praslin, 6 Sept. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 451 fol. 189.

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1756–71), George Macartney (St Petersburg, 1764–8), and James Harris (Madrid 1768–71, Berlin 1772–6, St Petersburg, 1777–83, The Hague, 1784–8). Connections could be crucial in obtaining training45 and in appointments. Lord Beauchamp complained in 1763: I have just heard that Mr Bunbury is appointed Secretary to the Embassy at Paris – what a potent counsellor! What a wise and experienced negotiator! In one word, he is Mr Fox’s brother-in-law, and that is at present sufficient to gild a character with all the lustre it can wish.46 If military and diplomatic skill can be difficult to assess, so also is the extent to which commanders and diplomats influenced the policies they were supposed to pursue. Charles, Earl of Northampton wrote from Venice in 1762: ‘it is astonishing that our ministry do not take more notice of their ministers abroad. They seem to think no more of us as soon as we have left the kingdom’.47 Complaints were often reciprocated in the correspondence of the Secretaries of State. In 1764, Sandwich commented on a memorandum by Francis, Earl of Hertford, envoy in Paris, adding: ‘if any more are to be presented to that Court on matters of importance, it seems absolutely necessary to send them from England’.48 David Hume was Hertford’s Secretary. The following year, Macartney seriously exceeded his instructions in commercial negotiations with Russia, but that was understandable given the difficulty of negotiating at such a distance, and any distance accentuated the unpredictabilities of communications. The manner in which debate over the merits of strategy and foreign policy could fasten on the motives and qualities of individual commanders and diplomats is a striking testimony to their significance, while commanders and diplomats were clearly most important when they enjoyed close links with the king, or Secretaries of State or other leading ministers, or when the Secretaries were weak. After 1763, the role of commanders was greatly lessened by peace, while diplomats had to cope with a less interventionist content and style in British foreign policy, a situation that reduced the interest of ministers, in Britain and elsewhere, in British policy. However, a diplomatic corps that could boast Harris, Keith, Rochford, Stormont, and Yorke, was not without men of great activity and talent. This was important because the ‘English plan’ of conducting diplomacy was for negotiations to be handled by British envoys, rather than by foreign diplomats in London; a preference that helped to lessen the dangers of these diplomats intriguing 45 Katherine, Countess of Morton to Shelburne, 3 July, 3 Sept. 1782, BL. Bowood 58. In the event, George, the 16th Earl did not pursue a diplomatic career. 46 BL. Add. 34412 fol. 56. The ambassador did not want him and Bunbury did not go. 47 BL. Stowe 257 fol. 66. 48 BL. Stowe 259 fol. 5. For a critical French view of the inexperienced Hertford, D’Eon to Praslin, 24 Ap. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 450 fol. 309.

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with British opposition politicians, and allowed the Secretaries of State to retain more control over negotiations. Foreign diplomats in London were often accused of meddling in British politics, which was an understandable choice as these politics were so important to the conduct of British foreign policy,49 and diplomats found it necessary to have links with government and opposition,50 while the effective British system of deciphering diplomatic correspondence made it possible to scrutinize moves and opinions.51 In 1763, Sandwich blamed delays in the conclusion of an Anglo-Russian alliance on ‘the misrepresentations of Count Woronzow [the Russian envoy Alexander Vorontsov], who is extremely illintentioned to the present administration, and seems entirely under the influence of Mr Michel’, the Prussian envoy.52 The latter was seen as a major threat to relations, who, indeed, enabled Frederick to seek to overthrow the ministry and challenge the Crown. Sandwich wrote of him in 1764, it is impossible to suppose that a friendly intercourse can be carried on through the channel of a minister with whom His Majesty’s servants can never communicate with freedom and confidence . . . he joins in the cry of faction here in the most open and unguarded manner, and adopts their principles and practice.53 In part, this was a reflection on the nature of Prussian policy as far as British politics was concerned. The willingness of foreign powers to look to the opposition remained a factor. In 1784, when the new ministry faced a number of diplomats who clearly preferred Fox and the opposition, the government had the Danish envoy recalled as factious,54 while Carmarthen imputed the ‘coldness’ of Russia to ‘the miserable mutilated scraps of opposition newspapers sent from hence by M. Simolin’.55 More broadly, there was an awareness that for all powers ‘the interior’ of the country, in the sense of its stability and prosperity, was crucial to its ability to sustain an international stance, more particularly, war.56

D’Eon to Praslin, 22 Aug. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 451 fol. 111. Guerchy to Praslin, 21 Feb. 1764, AE. CP. Ang. 455 fol. 382. 51 Newcastle to Hardwicke, 22 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 35421 fols 194–5. 52 Sandwich to Stormont, 27 Dec., Sandwich to Buckinghamshire, 20 Dec. 1763, NA. SP. 80/199, 91/72 fols 238–9; Bothmer, Danish envoy, to Frederick V of Denmark, 31 Jan. 1764, NA. SP. 107/96. 53 NA. SP. 90/83 fols 1–2, 16, 18; Weston to Mitchel, 31 May, Halifax to Weston, 13 June 1763, BL. Add. 6823 fols 191–3, 57927 fol. 65; D’Eon to Praslin, 13 June 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 450 fol. 397. For intercepts, see, for example, Michell to Frederick II, 17, 21, 28 Feb. 1764, NA. SP. 107/97. 54 Carmarthen to Keith, 18 June 1784, NA. FO. 7/8. 55 Elliot to Carmarthen, 24 Aug., Carmarthen to Elliot, 27 Aug. 1784, NA. FO. 22/6 fols 206–8. 56 Hawkesbury to Cornwallis, 23 July 1787, NA. PRO. 30/11/138 fols 164–5. 49 50

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Conclusions The listing of factors, as well as the exposition of the reality of a monarchy and ministry dependant on parliamentary support, do not help provide a sense of the need, if policy was to work for a directing figure able to get government to cohere around a strategy. The monarch might seem the obvious figure, and George III saw himself in this light in the early 1760s; but the heavy realities of political contention, parliamentary management, and, differently, administrative grind, forced reliance on ‘men of business’, not simply the talented figures such as Andrew Stone, Edward Weston, John Robinson and Charles Jenkinson who held office accordingly in a subordinate capacity, but also the ministers above. There needed to be a firm and energetic controlling hand in London, but the First Lord of the Treasury was often unable to focus on foreign affairs and strategy.57 This was particularly true of Augustus, 3rd Duke of Grafton (1766–70), Frederick, Lord North (1770–82) and William Pitt the Younger (1784–1801, 1804–6). Each had too many interests to give a consistent attention either to the formulation or implementation of foreign policy. Pitt the Younger liked dabbling in it and would intervene at important junctures as in the Dutch Crisis of 1787, but lacked the sustained commitment. Secretaries of State or Foreign Secretaries, such as Carmarthen/Leeds in 1783–91, whom Pitt considered replacing, notably by Grafton in 1784,58 could lack the requisite energy, but more commonly they did not have the relevant political weight, and certainly not to bring in the military side. Moreover, no one else in the Cabinet was in a position to do so. In addition, attention and talent could be waylaid by political problems, notably the Regency Crisis of 1788–9 which brought effective policy making to a full stop for over three months and caused the defection to the opposition and removal from influence of Sir James Harris, Lord Malmesbury, an experienced diplomat who was the one man with the ability and energy to sustain a pro-active policy. Thereafter, a policy vacuum existed in 1789–91 in which a pro-active policy was continued not from Whitehall, but by individual envoys, notably Hugh Elliot at Copenhagen and Joseph Ewart at The Hague, freelancing and hoping to persuade Pitt and Carmarthen to back them. This was not a planned and coordinated policy, but an ad hoc, private enterprise system by agents abroad that, in practice, was a diplomatic service starting to get out of hand. In such a context, it is better to speak of foreign policies rather than foreign policy; and that was more generally the case due to the role of the Crown, the lack of Cabinet cohesion, and the number of ministers involved.

57 For Bute being so busy on internal matters that he did not have time for international issues, Nivernais to Praslin, 11, 16 Dec. 1762, AE. CP. Ang. 448 fols 268, 321. 58 Carmarthen Political Memoranda, 15 Oct. 1784, BL. Add. 27918 fol. 125.

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An emphasis on a number of policies had a series of facets. Contemporaries also discerned socio-economic foundations and/or consequences for particular policies. Taking up a longstanding Tory theme, one most clearly seen in Jonathan Swift’s powerful The Conduct of the Allies (1711), a critique of the War of the Spanish Succession (1702–13), the Monitor on 20 February 1762 attacked a war fought for the ‘money-jobbers’, one that recklessly ran up debts that would press on the landed interest, while the St James’s Chronicle of 10 April 1764 adopted this approach and also criticized subsidy treaties and the wartime Prussian alliance. This argument was also made privately, as with one of Newcastle’s correspondents in 1759 who reported, ‘a sort of murmur at the expenses of Continental connexions . . . the landed interest is now allowed to crouch under the load of the war, while the merchants who contribute so small a share of it grow more and more prodigal’.59 Wills Hill, Earl of Hillsborough, the President of the Board of Trade and Secretary of State for the Colonies, told the Lords in 1770 that national wealth and imperial prosperity were based on peace, that war hit taxes, and that blue water arguments, then being voiced during the Falkland Islands crisis, were misleading and as if British: ‘naval power is able to give the whole universe laws. . . . A language of this nature may be very fine in romance, but men of business experimentally know, and laugh at the absurdity’.60 Moreover, there were other established differences and standard themes. The long-established discussion about the degree to which the public debate could be protected from ‘the devotees of faction’ and their ability to exploit ‘men of weak understandings’,61 as opposed to the argument that ‘all good Patriots’ should ‘speak their minds’,62 was reiterated during the controversy over the Peace of Paris of 1763. The political debate was both an expression of the strong sense that foreign policy and strategy were aspects of a far from fixed political system and political culture; and also contributed greatly to this sense.

John Gordon to Newcastle, 28 Nov. 1759, BL. Add. 32899 fol. 168. 22 Nov. 1770, Cobbett, XVI, 1089. 61 Briton, 9 Oct. 1762. 62 London Evening Post, 11 Sept. 1762. 59 60

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CHAPTER TWO

The Context of Debate Britain’s strategic position was central to the debate over what her foreign policy should be, and this strategic position set the context both for defeating France in North America during the Seven Years’ War (1756–63) and then for defeat there in the War of American Independence (1775–83). Throughout the period, Britain was at war, or the revival of war very much appeared a prospect. Indeed, this was more the case than for much of the 1730s or for most of the period 1749–52. In contrast, in 1758–83, much foreign policy responded to this situation, whether in immediate terms, or by means of improving Britain’s position in any future struggle, or in order to lessen tensions. Any stress on military victory and the growth of empire has to take note of these points and of more general strategic disadvantages, notably the small size of the army and Britain’s vulnerability to invasion. Whereas France’s army had an effective size of 347,000 in 1760–1 and 160,000 in peacetime in 1770, and the equivalents for Austria were 201,300 and 151,600, the fighting strength of the British army in July 1762 was 97,000, the Cabinet that December decided on a post-war strength of 50,600, and numbers dropped to about 36,000 at the start of 1775. Britain was not particularly populous, with England and Wales having 6.5 million people in 1760, about a quarter that of France. Indeed, the navy really was the ‘wooden walls’ of a country that was poorly fortified, the latter a major issue in Parliament in 1786. In contrast, a large permanent army was regarded as an actual and potential threat to British liberties. As a result, military effectiveness was limited at the beginning of wars. Post-war demobilization and peacetime retrenchment were always issues. Thus, the major damage done to the army by disease during the siege of Havana in 1762 was not really remedied. Subsequently, after the War of American Independence, disbandment in 1783 was poorly handled, in part due to rapid changes in government and, by the end of the year, the army was under strength and poorly-deployed, while its morale had suffered badly from the recent defeat. The low level of peacetime capability was further manifested in an absence of large-scale manoeuvres and of adequate 25

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training, which was to cause problems when war resumed in 1793. On such occasions, large numbers of untrained troops were recruited. The size and nature of the peacetime army, as well as resistance to the idea of a large standing army, encouraged the reliance on hiring troops from foreign powers, a contentious policy, but a key component of Britain’s strategic culture. If, in these and other respects, the conduct of allies was commonly a theme of ministerial complaint, this conduct could also arouse public agitation as the conviction that allies were rogues was well-established. Such attitudes limited the options for ministers in negotiations with foreign powers, and thus made the creation of alliances more difficult. Yet, there was no simple division of opinion, with unwilling ministers constrained by public attitudes. Instead, ministers were divided in their opinions about reliance on allies, for military and other purposes. Concern over the size of the army, and over national vulnerability to invasion, helped to lead to agitation over the degree of reliance that could be placed on a militia; and this agitation was very much part of the politics of strategy and foreign policy. The ‘Patriot’ rhetoric of national self-reliance, centred on an active and virtuous citizenry, however, proved unwelcome to many when it became a matter of their own action and obligations. The militia system established in England and Wales in 1757 was adopted only with some difficulty and opposition, although it survived the Seven Years’ War and, under an Act of 1762, men were obliged to drill for four weeks in peacetime each year. The militia, therefore, helped to bring home to many the consequences of foreign policy and strategy, but, other than in 1757–9, when it seemed that militia service would not last for long and when there was considerable concern about the possibility of invasion, militiamen were generally not men of wealth, nor all motivated by patriotic zeal; instead, militiamen were mostly poor men who presumably joined for the pay. At the same time, confidence in the militia helped to persuade some ‘to laugh’ at the threat of French invasion.1 In 1760, the Irish militia was deployed when a French force briefly captured Carrickfergus.2 Although Britain was far more martial than at present, it was not so in an eighteenth-century context. Compared with the cantonal systems of military conscription of countries such as Prussia, or the extensive overlapping of the nobility and the large officer corps in many states, including France and Russia, Britain was not a militaristic society. In the European context, this was true in institutions and attitudes, and at both Court and in the localities. The disgrace of Cumberland in late 1757 contributed to this process, as did George III’s lack of martial experience and interest, while none of George’s brothers served in a role akin to their uncle Cumberland. As with most

James Hutton to Mr Phelps, 3 Dec. 1762, Beinecke, Osborn Files, Hutton. N. Garnham, The Militia in Eighteenth-Century Ireland: In Defence of the Protestant Interest (Woodbridge, 2012). 1 2

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factors that were absent, the effect on foreign policy and strategy was indirect but, nevertheless, significant in terms of the culture of decisionmaking and, in particular, the dynamics of Court politics. Nevertheless, whatever the vocal opposition to a standing army, it did not significantly affect government policy, while the vigour of the naval tradition provided a powerful element of popular bellicosity. Whereas the army was numerically weak, dependent on foreign manpower, and had only episodic success in Europe (although sufficient in 1759–62), the navy was strong, reliant on national resources, and generally successful. The navy also enjoyed an established role in British strategic thought, public debate and state finances, and this role helped guide the formulation and implementation of strategy in particular contexts. Although Britain consistently, indeed throughout the entire century, had the largest fleet in the world, that did not mean that there was no anxiety about naval strength, anxiety that arose from real problems, both domestically and from abroad. The first reflected the issues involved in maintaining the navy, notably the major difference between constructing ships and manning and maintaining them. The maintenance was both expensive and required an extensive and effective administrative system that indicated the capability of the state for successful and continuous government-directed action. The condition of the navy was a contentious issue, and notably in the face of the Bourbon build-up in the late 1760s. So also with manning: as naval forces were not kept permanently prepared for action, with the exception of a small force, so crises led to naval mobilizations in which ships were prepared and crewed speedily, as in 1770 over the Falkland Islands. The manning was completed by impressment – forcible conscription – which led not only to individual hardship and the disruption of trade, but also to problems of desertion and generally inadequate naval manpower. It was not possible to deal with the problem by hiring foreign sailors; nor was this the solution sought. Indeed, a significant difference between navy and army strength was that the former was essentially selfreliant, with the important exception of Baltic naval stores – supplies of timber, hemp and iron from Russia and Sweden – for ship construction and maintenance. In contrast, wartime army strength required the use of foreign troops. As a result, the government had far greater control over naval operations compared to land ones in Europe. The strategic challenge was clear. A larger number of warships than any other power was not helpful if rival states co-operated as Spain and France did for much of the period between 1700 and 1808. Moreover, although Vergennes, the French Foreign Minister, pointed out the difficulty of sustaining war on land and at sea,3 France threatened Britain simply by keeping her fleet in being, for, with this, an invasion by the more numerous French army

3

Vergennes to Louis XVI, 8 Oct. 1784, AE. MD. France 1897 fol. 134.

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remained a serious prospect. This was more especially the case because Brest, the major French Atlantic base, dominated the English Channel in the event of westerly winds, while, separately, significant French forces were kept near the frontier with the Austrian Netherlands (modern Belgium), and these could be readily moved to the Channel ports. For these reasons, France could enjoy the initiative, although sufficient transports were far harder to assemble, and winds were at the beck and call of no state. Concern about France using the Austrian Netherlands for an invasion, and perhaps gaining territory there, came to play a role in the Seven Years’ War, with particular anxiety about Nieuwpoort which could serve as an invasion port . As a crucial British strategic means, spying on the preparedness of the French fleet (and its Spanish counterpart), extending for example to French activity in the Baltic mast market, was one of the principal activities of British espionage;4 alongside the interception and deciphering of diplomatic correspondence,5 and, until the failure of the French invasion plan in 1759, spying on the Jacobites. In relative terms, the first was a key task in the peace years from 1763 and from 1783, whereas the Jacobite issue became far less prominent after 1759.6 The French also spied on British naval preparations.7 With the French fleet in being, the British were obliged, in wartime, to keep much of their fleet in home waters and ports; a situation that was exacerbated when France and Spain were allied, but that was still serious if France alone was the foe. The British had their strategic options limited until such time as they could destroy an appreciable portion of the opposing force, as with their major victories over French fleets at the battles of Lagos (off Portugal) and Quiberon Bay (off Brittany) in 1759, and Quiberon Bay was not fought until 20 November. The major problems facing Britain at sea in 1778, when at war with France but not yet Spain, underline the value of caution in crises such as that over the Falkland Islands in 1770 and, in particular, qualify claims that Britain should have acted in a more decisive and bellicose manner in successive crises with the Bourbons after peace in 1763. The military location of such caution has, however, to sit alongside an awareness of other reasons for avoiding confrontation and war, notably cost and past conflicts where naval success did not bring the desired outcome to a hoped-for timetable. The French strategic challenge was not restricted to invasion. The economic consequences from privateering were serious, with ship losses, the need for convoys, commercial disruption, and higher insurance premiums. Despite the size of the British navy, there were often too few ships and crew

4 George, 2nd Earl of Bristol, envoy in Spain, to Pitt, 2 June 1760; État de la Marine de France, au 1er Novembre 1763’, NA. SP. 90/161, 109/87. 5 Carl Fredrick Scheffer, Swedish envoy in France to Anders Johan von Höpken, President of the Swedish Chancery, 2 Ap. 1759, BL. Add. 35418 fol. 100 re French to invade England. 6 D. Zimmermann, The Jacobite Movement in Scotland and in Exile, 1746–1759 (Basingstoke, 2003). 7 Anon. reports, 3, 5 Aug. 1784, AN. AM. B7 451.

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to spare for the many tasks in home and foreign waters for which the fleet was required. The nature of communications ensured that, once detached, ships were difficult to recall speedily, which was a far greater problem as more ships were sent to trans-oceanic stations. In European waters, the crucial wartime tasks were the maintenance of the control of home waters, observation of the principal Bourbon ports, convoy duty, and Mediterranean and Baltic missions. As far as the first two were concerned, the difficulty, in maintaining all-weather stations, of wooden ships, which were very much affected by the constraints of the tide and wind, precluded close blockades, which was a key problem as far as Brest was concerned. More important, in so far as foreign policy was at issue, were the limitations of naval strength, however preponderant, in affecting the political and strategic plans of other states. In the case of major colonial powers, including Britain, naval strength could inhibit their links with their colonies, which had serious commercial and financial consequences. In addition, such strength was an essential precondition of amphibious operations, which were the appropriate means to seize many colonial possessions, especially those that were islands or ports, such as Louisbourg (1758), Havana (1762) and Manila (1762), as well as to launch attacks on American cities such as Savannah (1778) and Charleston (1780). However, amphibious operations had their military limitations, while their political effectiveness abroad was less sweeping than the ever-vocal British proponents of ‘blue water’ policies might suggest. Leaving aside the serious logistical problems the British faced, and the major difficulty in obtaining effective army-naval co-operation, as dramatically shown with the costly failure of the attack on Cartagena (in modern Colombia) in 1741, the Spanish empire was far more resilient than was appreciated in Britain, where notions of Spanish decadence were well-established rather than well-founded. Local military units, reasonably strong fortifications, and the incidence of Caribbean epidemic diseases, produced in combination an effective defensive system for the Spanish empire; although this system did not prevent the fall of Havana to British attack in 1762. More generally, gains made through local military superiority could be threatened if the arrival of hostile forces reversed the situation. Therefore, naval strength was a vital prerequisite of successful colonial operations but could not ensure them. British naval and amphibious success certainly forced both France and Spain to make territorial concessions in 1763 as a price of peace, albeit not to the satisfaction of those whom William, Earl of Bath termed ‘the war kettle’, a reference to their being noisily boiling.8 Thereafter, this success and strength led to French fears of a British monopoly of colonial resources in, and trade with, North America and the Caribbean. However, the effect of this naval strength on non-colonial powers was far more limited; and several of their rulers and ministers made contemptuous references to the idea that they could,

8

Bath to Elizabeth Montagu [1763], Elizabeth to Bath, 19 Oct. 1763, HL. MO. 4438, 4590.

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or would, be affected by such strength. Indeed, the European international agenda was dominated by problems, such as the Austro-Prussian struggle, the Balkan question, and the fate of Poland, in all of which, despite talk of sending British warships, notably to the Baltic, naval power was of little consequence. This situation played a major role in ensuring that alliance with Britain was not sought actively. Although the second half of the century was a period of important demographic growth and economic expansion for Britain; it became less significant in European international relations, for, while Britain, like France, pursued an overseas imperial agenda,9 other states did the same in terms of Continental Europe. Moreover, prefiguring the limitations of the British strategy in 1939–40 of winning the war by blockading a Germany that in practice had gained strategic depth and resources by alliance with the Soviet Union, extensive gains of contiguous territory by Austria, Russia and Prussia prior to 1756 had provided them with resources to pursue their military and diplomatic agendas. The attitudes of other European powers are a crucial backdrop for considering the contemporary British debate on what should be the strategic emphasis of wartime efforts. In a continuation of the theme of the prevalence of confrontation, this debate affected both wartime diplomacy and also peacetime plans, not least because the need for allies was often directly related to preparations for, and fears about, conflict. Two basic attitudes illuminated the strategic debate, although in ministerial circles they were not generally presented as stark opposites. Indeed, for understandable diplomatic and political reasons, efforts were made to present them as complementary. Each attitude covered a wide variety of specific views on policy, and caution is required in assuming that there were necessarily coherent and consistent policies whose development can be easily traced. ‘Blue water’ describes views that stressed naval power and colonial and commercial considerations: as is commonplace, opportunity and analysis, problem and solution, were each closely linked in this strategic debate. France and Spain were the opponents intended, so that policy, strategy and operational means were as one, which was not the case, with opposition to other European powers.10 Instead, the logic of ‘blue water’ was very clear, as proclaimed in the Monitor on 13 September 1760. ‘France cannot maintain a land war when she has lost her trade, and the means to supply her armies, by the riches of her commerce, which are the sinews of war. Hence it is, that France has always attempted to draw the attention of our ministry, from their naval power.’11 That logic, however plausible for British commentators, was scarcely one that was going to determine policy for Continental powers, and notably so 9 D.A. Baugh, ‘Withdrawing from Europe: Anglo-French Maritime Geopolitics, 1750–1800’, International History Review, 20 (1998), pp. 1–32. 10 D.A. Baugh, ‘Great Britain’s Blue-Water Policy, 1689–1815’, International History Review, 10 (1988), pp. 33–58. 11 See also, Royal Magazine I (1760), p. 189.

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those to the east of France considering alliance with Britain or even her enmity. At the same time, a relative lack of response to British ‘blue water’ activity from the perspective of potential allies helped underline the domestic political appeal of the strategy. It was not only that the naval and amphibious operations, each crucial to the demonstrated potency of the other, were more successful in the Seven Years’ War than in the Anglo-Spanish War of Jenkins Ear (1739–48) and the Anglo-French stage of the War of the Austrian Succession (1743–8). In addition, these naval and amphibious operations could be seen clearly as designed to further what were obviously British objectives, which indeed cut the lasting political cost and even helped lessen the tremendous shock of failure at Minorca in 1756. The contrast between the popularity of Atlantic naval and amphibious operations during the Seven Years’ War and operations in Mediterranean waters during the War of the Austrian Succession was apparent, and it was not only the greater relative success of the former that played a role. Naval and colonial operations gained further political credence and traction because Britain did not need in them to consult the views of allies. This situation conveyed a political value to government that can be underplayed by later commentators prone to underplay or criticize political factors, and, as a result, to see the country as an international player where the later should took precedence over the contemporary could. In practice, domestic political considerations were centrally entwined with issues of strategic choice, and the absence for much of the Seven Years’ War of damaging accusations of surrender to the views of allies or the Hanoverian interests of the monarch (and certainly on the scale of those in the previous war) was highly significant in enhancing political and popular support for naval activity as well as for the war itself. With such support, there was a major trend in political expectations, strategic engagement, ship construction, and the infrastructure of power projection. All combined to encourage the navy to undertake more on transoceanic stations. Whereas the Russian navy sailed via the Mediterranean to operate in the Aegean, winning a major battle at Çesmé by the island of Chios off Turkey in 1770, although failing to make decisive changes round the Aegean, the British navy that year had its sights definitely set on Atlantic waters. The nature of Britain’s alliances contributed directly to this politiconaval situation. The Dutch had increasingly been a weak wartime ally for Britain in naval matters, but, from the end of 1748, Britain did not fight alongside the Dutch in this period. Instead, Britain’s ally Prussia lacked naval force. As a result, and helped by Britain’s refusal to send a fleet to the Baltic, naval action could be envisaged simply in an Anglo-Bourbon context. This provides another way of looking at Britain’s inability to affect developments in Eastern Europe. It can be regarded as an undesirable consequence, both of the lack of allies from 1762 and of the limitations of naval power. However, the Royal Navy could be seen more clearly as a force designed and commonly used to support what were generally regarded as national goals: the security of Britain and her colonies, and maritime

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hegemony. Moreover, this perception and usage can be seen as arising from a sound grasp of what the navy could achieve. The political context explained the synergy of ministries determined to spend large sums in order to gain and maintain naval superiority, and of Parliament being willing to supply the money. Expenditure on new vessels, maintenance, dockyards and equipment, provided a continuous pattern of support that maintained effectiveness and facilitated crucial improvements in administrative, operational and tactical practice,12 as well as providing strategic heft. The return was an expectation that the navy would make ‘blue water’ work, although with the public not always sufficiently aware of the capability of warships in this period. By 1762, the navy had about 300 ships and 84,000 men, a size that reflected not only political support but also the continued elasticity of the public finances, as well as a major shipbuilding programme. An improvement in warship design helped increase the operating strength of the navy. Its French counterpart had strengths,13 but suffered from a focus on the army and from severe financial problems.14 In contrast to ‘blue water’, ‘Continental’ depicts those who emphasized the need for Britain to focus on events on the Continent as well as on other concerns. There was a significant military dimension to this approach, which, however, interacted with the diplomatic one without determining it. A ‘Continental’ strategy committed Britain, if at war with France, to confront her with troops on the Continent, essentially in the Low Countries (Belgium and the Netherlands) and in western Germany, to use a modern term for the complex constitutional arrangements and numerous states of the Holy Roman Empire. This policy obliged Britain to retain foreign troops, either by hiring them or through alliances, though such alliances generally entailed subsidies. These agreements committed Britain to the problems of alliance diplomacy, at the same time that the defeats or difficulties allied forces faced made success unlikely. The latter increased the likelihood that the alliance would collapse as a result of unilateral negotiations, and that the British political nation would have to accept a war record and peace settlement that fell short of expectations. ‘Continental’ strategies did not necessarily set the pattern of action against France, which had its own colonial interest as, even more, did Spain. Moreover, the traditional ‘Continental’ stance, based on fear of France,

12 C. Wilkinson, The British Navy and the State in the Eighteenth Century (Woodbridge, 2004); D. Syrett, Shipping and Military Power in the Seven Years War: The Sails of Victory (Exeter, 2008); R. Morriss, The Foundations of British Maritime Ascendancy: Resources, Logistics and the State, 1755–1815 (Cambridge, 2011); C. Buchet, The British Navy, Economy and Society in the Seven Years War (Woodbridge, 2013). 13 J. Pritchard, Louis XV’s Navy, 1748–1762. A Study in Organisation and Administration (Quebec, 1987). 14 J.F. Bosher, ‘Financing the French navy in the Seven Years’ War: Beaujon, Goosens et Compagnie in 1759’, Business History, 28 (1986), pp. 115–33.

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became less relevant between 1763 and 1787 as France, allied with Austria and also neutral in the War of Bavarian Succession (1778–9), did not really threaten Britain’s interests or allies on the Continent anew until the Dutch Crisis of 1787. At the same time, there were attempts to engage Britain in very different ‘Continental’ strategies, notably that of an active alignment with France, which was very much a stance adopted by some French ministers, and particularly in response to the rise of Russian power. Thus, in 1772, the British envoy in Paris reported of Armand, Duke d’Aiguillon, the Foreign Minister: He has gone sometime so far as to express his concern that Great Britain, France and Spain cannot be more closely allied than they have been, which he has said would be the means of keeping the troublesome northern powers in some order.15 Moreover, it was argued at the time, and has been claimed since, that a ‘Continental’ commitment was an essential part of any ‘blue water’ strategy, in that French strength was thereby diverted from the maritime struggle. This thesis is very much argued for the Seven Years’ War, but underrates the precarious nature of the ‘Continental’ strategy during that conflict. Indeed, there was a lack of commitment to such a strategy in 1757, as no British troops helped Cumberland in his unsuccessful defence of Hanover against the French. Financial assistance to Frederick and the dispatch of British troops to Germany in 1758 were measures reluctantly taken in order to encourage Frederick (and Hanover) not to negotiate a separate peace. The argument that they would help to bring victory in North America was made for domestic political consumption, largely in order to clear Pitt of the charge of hypocrisy in supporting then such a dispatch that he had earlier condemned. Indeed, in 1785, referring to the Seven Years’ War, Frederick was to point out to Charles, 2nd Earl Cornwallis that Britain and Prussia were not a match for the Bourbons, Austria and Russia, and that ‘although from some fortunate circumstances such a contest had been maintained [i.e. in the Seven Years’ War], it was not a game to play often’.16 As a reminder of the heavily politicized nature of strategic culture, and therefore of strategy, the evaluation of the Seven Years’ War was to play a major role in the subsequent debate over policy. There was a marked tendency then to underplay the failures of 1756–7, the vulnerability throughout the war of Hanover, Prussia and, in 1762, Portugal, and the threat, until late 1759, of a French invasion of Britain. ‘Blue water’ could not

15 Harcourt to Rochford, 16 July 1772, NA. SP. 78/285 fol. 294. See also, St Paul to Rochford, 4 Nov. 1772, Northumberland CRO. ZBU B 4/6. 16 C. Ross (ed.), Correspondence of Charles, First Marquis Cornwallis (3 vols, London, 1859), I, 201.

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secure either the specific objectives that the Continental strategy was designed to protect, essentially the Low Countries and Hanover, or the more general goals generally summarized by the vague, but still often repeated, notion of the balance of power. Nevertheless, in domestic political terms, ‘blue water’ was a more acceptable strategy than ‘Continental’ interventionism. Moreover, ‘blue water’ lessened the need for co-operation with allies. A shift towards ‘blue water’ policies, as opposed to just attitudes, and, primarily, oppositional stances, occurred in mid-century. Although British troops were sent to Germany from 1758, the trans-oceanic successes of the period helped set the political tone for discussion of potential British military action until 1793, when Britain entered the French Revolutionary War; which the government had not been willing to do the previous year. The content and tone of discussion focused on naval superiority and imperial role, with empire regarded as a key aspect of national identity, and not as lessening it. Thus, on 13 March 1760, the Monitor remarked ‘Our religion, laws and liberty and whatever else the British Empire is worth, now lie at stake.’ Commercial and colonial developments were indeed of major consequence for Britain’s ability to develop and sustain great-power status, and thus strategy, and they played an important role in the public debate over policy. A sense of threat was present across the period, with the focus being on Franco-Spanish co-operation, which was far closer in 1759–90 than it had been in 1715–58, in part due to the greater willingness of Charles III (r. 1759–88) to ally with France. Indeed, from that perspective, there had been a marked and persistent deterioration in Britain’s strategic position; but one that, despite attempts, neither France nor Spain were able to bring to fruition, in part because, as with Austria and Russia against Prussia, an effective combination generally proved elusive. In 1760, Pombal, the leading Portuguese minister, warned the British envoy of a longstanding FrancoSpanish plan to co-operate against Portugal, with France to gain Brazil, Portugal’s leading colony and Britain’s major source of gold. As an instructive instance of an anti-‘Enlightenment’ drive in international tension, suspicion was expressed in this discussion by Pombal about Charles de La Condamine’s mathematical and astronomical mission to South America in 1735–44, which was presented, with scant justification, as a cover for espionage.17 There was a European dimension to British commercial policy, including interest in Eastern Europe, notably the Russia trade, and, by the late 1780s that of Poland.18 Yet the efforts made by Pitt the Younger’s ministry to negotiate trade treaties including with France19 did not have an earlier

Kinnoull to Pitt, 16 Ap. 1760, NA. SP. 89/52 fols 65–6. D. Gerhard, England und derAufsteig Russlands (Munich, 1933), pp. 292–308. 19 J. Ehrman, The British Government and Commercial Negotiations with Europe, 1783–1793 (Cambridge, 1962). 17 18

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anticipation after the Seven Years’ War. Indeed, the French government in 1762 argued that even if George III sought a treaty of commerce, which Bedford favoured, Parliament would never agree.20 Trade as an interest and a slogan tended to relate to Britain’s role as the leading trans-oceanic commercial state and colonial power, for the British empire was more dynamic and expanding than that of Spain, which was its rival in extent, and more powerful than those of France, Portugal and the United Provinces. The seizure of the extra-European territories of other European powers was bound up with foreign policy, understood as the formal diplomacy of the state. This was less the case with the acquisition of lands not ruled by Europeans and particularly when initiatives were taken by non-governmental bodies, the most important being the East India Company. However, it would be mistaken to separate such activity completely from that of British foreign policy and strategy, as the extent and reputation of British strength were important to their operation, while the willingness to allow such bodies a major role was itself an aspect of state policy. Expansion at the expense of non-Europeans is frequently not treated as an aspect of foreign policy, and even strategy, which can lead to an underplaying of its significance. At any rate, the process by which expansion took place is controversial: alongside an emphasis on imperialism as a syncretic system, dependent on the co-operation of local élites, most obviously in India, there has been a stress on its coercive character. The former approach emphasizes consensus and continuity; and the latter force and discontinuity. The nature of control could involve issues of authority and power focusing on dominance over trade and land. Thus, in Bengal, the entry of the East India Company into regional trade was forceful, and the extension and contours of colonial power involved a prolonged contest over the habits, terms and meanings of goods, markets and people. This linked authority, power, social dynamics and material culture. Once Company power was forcibly established, a process that was largely achieved in 1765, there was an alteration in the political economy of trade as control over customs was monopolized. The authority of local landed chiefs was banished from rivers, ferries and toll-ways, and intermediate writs over markets were ended. As a consequence, the colonial marketplace was opened up to the freer flow of imperial commodities and investment.21 A more obvious role for force was that of the slave trade and slavery, which were crucial to the viability of the British colonial presence in the West Indies and the Southern colonies in North America. Indeed, a largely

20 Anon. memoire of 25 Dec. 1762 on 1713 Treaty of Commerce, joined to letter from Contrôlleur Général des Finances, AE. MD 49 fol. 179; Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 13 Jan. 1763, AST. LM. Ing. 68. 21 S. Sen, Empire of Free Trade. The East India Company and the Making of the Colonial Marketplace (Philadelphia, Penn., 1998).

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silent aspect of British strategy in this period was the degree to which it helped sustain the leading role in the slave trade. This explained the determination to control slaving bases in West Africa as well as to maintain Caribbean garrisons able to suppress slave conspiracies and rebellions that occurred with some frequency, as on Jamaica in 1760, 1765 and 1776, Montserrat in 1768, and Tobago in 1770, 1771 and 1775. Exports brought profit and liquidity but were produced by arduous slave labour. In 1770, 513,581 cwt (hundredweight) of sugar and 911, 480 gallons of rum were exported from Jamaica to Britain. The navy was the guarantor of this trade and the resulting revenues. There is an understandable sense that colonial and commercial considerations ought to be important in the formulation and execution of foreign policy in the age of the Industrial Revolution, and that the role of commerce, and interest in its expansion and in colonial growth were structural features of British policy that played a major part in decisions. However, it is by no means so easy to assess the importance of these considerations for foreign policy as classically conceived. It is certainly possible to point to the prevalence of economic lobbying, which was an important aspect of an integral theme in British political culture and government, namely the acceptance that interested parties would lobby, as with the growing opposition to the slave trade,22 and that such lobbying could be a source of government policy. This was an instance of the degree to which many activities that would subsequently be seen as characteristic of government could be discharged by other bodies as part of what would now be termed private-public partnership. Ministers were certainly pressed frequently. The Bank of England and other financial bodies or consortia urged their views on government without having to resort to public debate, for example Henry Legge commenting on ‘certain remonstrances made by the Bank from the apprehensions they are under of a run upon them before it be long’.23 Instances of advice and pressure can readily be found. The instructions to the new envoy in Portugal in 1760 owed something to pressure on the government from a committee of British merchants at Oporto concerned about the contravention of their privileges, and, in 1762, Richard Glover MP used a parliamentary discussion of support for Portugal against the Bourbons in order to attack the Portuguese treatment of British trade and merchants and the failure of the Bute ministry to protect them. There was press criticism that the dispatch of military assistance had not been linked to better treatment.24

J.R. Oldfield, ‘The Committee and Mobilization of Public Opinion against the Slave Trade’, Historical Journal, 35 (1992), pp. 331–43. 23 Legge to Bute, no date, MS., papers from Cardiff Public Library, 3/169. 24 Instructions to Kinnoull, 18 Jan. 1760, NA. SP. 89/52 fols 5–7; H. Walpole, Memoirs of King George III, ed. D. Jarrett (4 vols, New Haven, Conn., 2000), I, 104; London Evening Post, 9, 30 Dec. 1762. 22

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In March 1763, Sir Ellis Cunliffe, MP for Liverpool, a major centre for trans-oceanic trade, notably that of the slave economy, gave a firm warning to Bute about the control of the slave-trading colony of Senegal, which had been gained from France and discussed in Parliament when the Peace Preliminaries had been considered. In a reminder of the need for historians to consider the role of face-to-face meetings, Cunliffe informed Bute that he would wait on him in order to ascertain his views ‘and to give any farther information I can’.25 Also in 1763, the British envoy in St Petersburg cited the ‘Turkey Trade’ as the reason why Britain was unlikely to back Russia against Turkey.26 A year later, George Grenville, the First Lord of the Treasury, was warned that a change in linen tariffs would hit trade, ‘and whenever that declines, the wealth, power and influence of Great Britain must proportionably be weakened’.27 Senior members of chartered companies, notably the East India Company, considered it perfectly reasonable to press ministers for meetings in order to communicate their views, and could expect to receive at least attention. Thus, in 1763, a year in which the French ambassador emphasized the Company’s influence and that of merchants as a whole, Egremont, the Secretary of State for the Southern Department, informed the Admiralty that he had been pressed by that Company for the wartime naval establishment in the Indian Ocean to be maintained, and even reinforced, if naval intelligence bore out reports that France was sending more warships thither.28 There was continual concern on this head, with the prospect of French intervention seen as a challenge to Britain’s position in India; whereas, in fact, it was to be more so in North America. Such assumptions and actions were not necessarily unwelcome, as ministers sought both information and advice from mercantile and colonial representatives. In Britain, this process was more marked than in France because the integration of government and politics with economic and financial interests was much further advanced, which was reflected in, but also owed much to, the dependence of government on the financial support of the City, as the state financial system ran on credit. Moreover, the ability to raise loans increased in importance as the national debt rose substantially after each war. The size of the debt, and the relatively low rates of interest at which the government was able to borrow, were a testimony to widespread confidence in the British system, and, more particularly the legacy of financial prudence and probity of the highly talented Henry Pelham, First Lord of the

25 MS, papers from Cardiff, 9/93; Parliamentary debate, 10 Dec. 1762, Warwick, CRO. Newdigate papers. 26 Buckinghamshire to Halifax, 26 July, 1 Nov. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fols 51, 210–11. 27 Dennys De Berdt to Thomas Fonnereau, MP for Sudbury and merchant, 21 Mar. 1764, in Fonnereau to Grenville of same date, HL. STG. 21, 69-70. 28 Nivernois to Praslin, 1 Jan. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 449 fol. 11; Egremont to Admiralty, 3 Jan. 1763, NA. SP. 44/231 fol. 118.

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Treasury from 1743 to 1754. He helped to create the conditions in which the Seven Years’ War could be conducted at relatively low borrowing costs. This confidence in the system had to be sustained by policy and success, as ministers understood. In 1759, Robert, 4th Earl of Holdernesse, one of the Secretaries of State and a former diplomat, informed Andrew Mitchell in Berlin: the Loan proposed for the service of the year 1760 is completed at a very moderate price. So strong a proof of the credit of this country, and of the confidence placed in the government, must have the strongest effect on the minds of friends and enemies.29 By contrast, the French were in a far more difficult position, and had no hesitation about telling the Austrian envoy so in order to reduce their ally’s demand for funds.30 Yet, in Britain, the pressure on the national finances of the continuation of the war led to opposition, either to widening the war to fight Spain, or to continuing operations in Germany.31 By early 1762, Newcastle’s longstanding concern about the ‘danger of collapse of public credit’,32 one informed by his being First Lord of the Treasury, had reached a height, and Frederick the Great urged the prussophile Peter III of Russia to bend Britain to his will by threatening her trade.33 The politics proved complex, but, with the finances clearly under strain, the war was swiftly over. Strengthening and expanding the British commercial and colonial presence and making it more systematic became part of the equation of trying to keep off such pressures, with major bursts of effort in each postwar period. The pressure in the 1760s for a new relationship with the North American colonies was a crucial aspect of this. So, after the War of American Independence, was a more active policy in the Indian Ocean. In 1787, Henry Dundas, the key member of the Board of Control for India, presented a mission to China to obtain a ‘commercial establishment’ as good for British and Indian manufactured goals; while also noting the belief that France sought to do the same,34 a reference in part to France’s attempt to establish a presence in Vietnam. Indeed, there was a strong neo-mercantilist sense of

Holdernesse to Mitchell, 14 Dec. 1759, NA. SP. 90/74. AE. CP. Autriche 275 fols 19–23. For a memorandum of 10 November 1760 by Chancellor Vorontsov on the essential need for peace due to finances, J.F. Brennan, Enlightened Despotism in Russia, The Reign of Elizabeth, 1741–1762 (New York, 1987), p. 252. For French need in 1761 for Spanish loans, AE. CP. Esp. 533 fols 322–4, 343, 355, 382, 446. 31 Minute of St James’s Meeting, 2 Oct., Newcastle to Devonshire, 9 Dec. 1761, BL. Add. 32929 fol. 18, 32932 fol. 80. 32 Newcastle to Hardwicke, 25 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 35421 fols 200–1. 33 Frederick to Baron Goltz, Prussian envoy in St Petersburg, 25, 28 Mar. 1762, Polit. Corr. XXI, 316–17, 325. 34 Dundas to Cornwallis, 21 July 1787, NA. PRO. 30/11/112 fol. 37. 29 30

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competition on the advancing edge of the European world. Dundas was keen on an expansionist policy, in a fashion that British ministers had not hitherto embraced in Asia. In 1787, he wrote of retaining Penang in modern Malaysia: ‘I have rather a predilection to it, unless something better calculated to obtain the commerce and navigation of the Eastern Seas could be secured to us, for surely the obtaining of these objects are very important.’35 By the 1780s, British commentators were well-aware of the wider geopolitical character of India, notably of the routes to it and the significance accordingly of Egypt. Indeed 1784 saw publications therefore with Henry Baldwin’s The Communication with India by the Isthmus of Suez and Colonel James Capper’s Observations on the Passage to India through Egypt. These were part of a global maritime strategy in which trade, naval power and key bases were all linked, a situation fully understood by the French, who had long seen hitting her commerce as a key way to undermine Britain.36 In its broadest sense, foreign policy benefited greatly from the character of British society and its impact on politics and on policy formation. In particular, the moneyed interest was neither socially nor politically distinct from the landed élite. The peerage, which expanded considerably in size under George III, was relatively open, at least compared to many Continental élites, and, if in much of Britain, few new men acquired substantial landed estates, intermarriage, the careers of younger sons, the financial and economic affairs of the élite, and the weakness of traditions of urban political independence, all combined to produce a harmony of interests to a degree not matched in France. Mercantile groups and financial interests were well represented in the House of Commons, which had a large urban component and the government was seen by foreign envoys as affected by the corresponding links of those in power.37 The influence of trade in foreign policy and strategy was not simply a consequence of political strength and pressure, as there was no need for pressure in the sense of overcoming a ministry disinclined to support trade. Aware of the fiscal and economic benefits of overseas trade and encouraged by the prevalence in Europe of economic regulation, successive ministries sought to foster it. Ideas of free trade had little currency until the 1780s, and economic regulation promoted government protectionism, which was further encouraged by the notion that the volume of trade was essentially constant, so that an increase in that of one power would necessarily lead to a reduction elsewhere. The weakness of currency mechanisms was also significant as it led to a stress on bullion and therefore on a favourable balance of trade that would maintain bullion inflows. Instead of demands to help trade itself, much of the pressure on government arose from the contradictory interests and demands of a diverse mercantile

Dundas to Cornwallis, 29 July 1787, NA. PRO. 30/11/112 fol. 201. D’Eon to Praslin, 23 Aug. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 451 fols 128–31. 37 Nivernois to Praslin, 5 Jan. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 449 fol. 39. 35 36

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economy that lacked coherence or any way of resolving differences short of turning to government. Rising tensions with the North American colonies in the 1760s can be located in part in this context. Economic interests in general supported regulation, especially protectionism. Smugglers, the most obvious practitioners of free-market initiatives, were a surreptitious group, not a vocal one, their profits dependent on there being a protectionist system while their activities were widely decried on the grounds that they purveyed foreign non-essentials, such as brandy, and exported bullion. In marked contrast to the views of smugglers, the support of merchants against foreign protectionism was a major issue for government. The situation deteriorated after the Seven Years’ War as foreign governments sought to strengthen native industries and to address debt levels, and, in 1763, Joseph Yorke was assured by merchants that tariffs in the Austrian Netherlands amounted to ‘very near a prohibition of some of our best manufacturers’,38while protectionist measures in Portugal, a key market, led to criticism of the British government for failing to maintain commercial privileges. After the War of American Independence, there was a major attempt to ease the situation by seeking trade treaties. Mercantile opinion was sought, while the lack of mercantile opposition was taken as a positive factor.39 Ministers frequently referred to commercial pressures. Thus, in June 1768, William, 2nd Earl of Shelburne, the Secretary of State for the Southern Department, told the Sardinian envoy that the government might be forced to war by mercantile anxiety over the consequences of the French acquisition of Corsica for trade to Italy and the Levant. In the event, conflict was avoided. However, given such discussion within Britain, it was not surprising that British policy was often seen abroad as being swayed by commercial considerations, rather than simply mercantile influences. In 1761, Charles III of Spain argued that mercantile opposition to the cost of broadening war with France to encompass Spain would prevent the ministry from going to war. He was to be proved wrong,40 but this was a key instance of the perception of British policy formulation affecting the viability of British strategy at least as measured by the responses of others. Peace in 1763 was certainly defended on the grounds that it helped trade to revive.41 The general direction of British foreign policy certainly affected trade. Britain was a ‘satisfied’ European power, one not seeking territorial acquisitions in Europe, although there was a strong determination to preserve the naval bases of Gibraltar and Minorca which were seen as important to Britain’s Mediterranean commerce as well as politically BL. Add. 58213 fol. 204. For later pressure, memorandum by Mr Hollier, 9 June 1784, BL. Eg. 3504 fol. 12. 39 Carmarthen to Keith, 11 May 1784, NA. FO. 7/8. 40 A. Christelow, ‘Economic background of the Anglo-Spanish War of 1762’, Journal of Modern History (1946), p. 26. 41 St James’s Chronicle, 22 Nov. 1763. 38

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totemic. In turn, naval strength was crucial to their maintenance. Gibraltar’s survival during the siege of 1779–83 owed much to the arrival of convoys.42 Britain’s Continental interventions were essentially designed to resist or redress what were believed to be threatening developments. In contrast, there was considerable support for British commercial growth outside Europe and for colonial acquisitions. However, there was no blueprint of world conquest either on the part of government or of the public. Moreover, as well as their advantages, the apparent dangers posed by colonies were stressed, especially the cost of defending them and the possibility that migration to them might weaken Britain. The dominant set of assumptions, attitudes and policies was beneficial to trade, and thus helped set the strategic context. Britain had the smallest army of the major powers and sought to avoid war. Ministries were conscious of the economic and political value of keeping taxes low, although the burdens of war, in the shape of the national debt and military expenditure, which were the largest and second-largest items of peacetime expenditure, ensured that per capita taxes were higher than in more populous France. Had British policy been more aggressive, the situation would probably have been more detrimental. War finance strained the monetary system, depressed general standards of consumption, and distorted trade and manufacturing. The aggressive maritime strategy called for by self-styled ‘Patriot’ opinion thus cut across important mercantile, manufacturing and financial interests, although, looked at differently, it refocused the argument that the domestic sphere was the determinant of foreign strength.43 As an instance of cross-currents, a French diplomat reported in 1787 that, although Britain made war with more expense than France, nevertheless in peacetime she was able to practise a wise economy.44 In one respect, this economy was a matter of avoiding war, for merchants did not benefit from hostile privateering,45 from the resultant convoying and insurance rates, and from the closure of markets. Ministers drew attention to the support of London merchants for the Peace of Paris,46 while Elizabeth Montagu observed ‘we coalowners have great reason to deprecate a war’.47 Alongside widespread agreement on goals, often at the platitudinous level, there was, more generally, much division over implementation. This was more so than was pretended by ‘Patriots’, who were generally highly

R. and L. Adkins, Gibraltar. The Greatest Siege in British History (London, 2019). Mémoire sur la France et l’Angleterre, – Sept. 1760, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, NAF. 10716 fol. 6. 44 François Barthélemy, Secretary of Legation, to Armand, Count of Montmorin, French Foreign Minister, 14 Aug. 1787, AE. CP. Ang. 561 fol. 55. 45 Kinnoull, envoy in Lisbon, to Pitt, 14 Ap. 1760, NA. SP. 89/52 fol. 54. 46 Grenville to Bedford, 19 May 1763, HL. ST. 7 vol.1 47 Montagu to Bath, 23 Oct. (quote), and to her sister, Sarah Scott, 22 Oct. 1763, HL. MO. 4592, 5804. 42 43

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pejorative of critical views, as on 9 June 1759, when Owen’s Weekly Chronicle exclaimed: The great expense, the heavy expense, the exhausting expense, of the present war are terms frequent in the mouths of some people, who pretend that they speak plain English, though to others, who are as quick of hearing, they seem rather to speak French. Irrespective of what was seen as public opinion, ministerial opinion did not always favour merchants and their complaints. For example, Joseph Yorke complained in 1764 of ‘the East India Companies, who seem to me to be both in the wrong and to require some superior power to interfere and keep them in order; they certainly live in Asia in a perpetual state of warfare, and are always complaining in Europe as if they were both innocent’.48 The following year, George III expressed his support for Captain Palliser, the naval officer in command in Newfoundland, ‘both against the complaints that his judicious conduct will draw on him from the French and our own merchants, as impartiality will ever make a man odious in the eyes of traders’.49 It would be rash to reify mercantile opinion and identify it with publicists for colonial expansion. Indeed, the colonial disputes that exacerbated relations with France and Spain tended to arise from the actions of local colonial and military officials, whom it was frequently difficult to control from Europe, as with the dispute with France over Turks Island in the West Indies in 1764. So also even more with the situation in distant India. Both in terms of ministerial policy and with reference to the initiatives of those on the periphery, foreign policy favoured trade without being the slave of traders. In Britain, colonial gains brought pride and profit, but their acquisition was not the central theme of policy. Instead, the preservation of colonial possessions, really or apparently endangered, was a much more important objective, although this objective could lead to what appeared a bolder ‘forward’ policy. Important colonial gains were acquired as a result of the Seven Years’ War, but the initial purpose of the conflict was not major colonial conquests from France, while, on the part of the ministry, there was no wish for war with Spain and efforts were made to avoid it by diplomatic action. Moreover, the apparent priorities of the public could be significant, as with Hardwicke warning in 1762 that it would be damaging to have it believed that the defence of Portugal had been jeopardized for the sake of Prussia. Foreign diplomats also sought to discern and utilize public priorities, as in 1768 when Shelburne had to reply to the claim by the French envoy that Londoners were not disturbed by the French acquisition of Corsica. His

BL. Add. 58213 fol. 343, see also Yorke to Weston, 17, 24 May 1763, fols 244–5, 248. BL. Eg. 982 fol. 6. For other female interest, Elizabeth to Edward Montagu, ? July, 11 Sept. 1760, HL. MO. 2381, 2394.

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response in fact did not capture the emphasis on domestic issues and divisions that characterized British politics for most of the decade:50 ‘the genius of our people, who for the most part appear so occupied with domestic transactions, that the interest really taken in foreign affairs naturally escapes the observation of a foreigner, who cannot have sufficient experience of this country to foresee the effect which events will have’.51 The extent of this interest, and its impact, were vexed questions for contemporaries, and, alongside a buoyant literary market for information on British imperial endeavour,52 there was criticism of the accuracy of information. On 13 September 1764, the St James’s Chronicle prefaced its own account with the remark: ‘many inaccurate descriptions having been given of Turks Island’, and the following 28 March, printed a letter bewailing the state of geography and history. In practice, however, a wealth of information was offered, for example the description of Cape Breton in Owen’s Weekly Chronicle on 5 August 1758 and the account and map of the Falkland Islands in the Gentleman’s Magazine of October 1770. Periodicals benefited from the increasing appearance of more detailed works. The previous month, the Gentleman’s Magazine described William Guthrie’s A Geographical, Historical, and Commercial Grammar; and Present State of the Several Kingdoms of the World: ‘The author’s principal view has been to bring a general and comprehensive knowledge of geography, history and commerce within the reach of those who have neither much leisure nor much money . . . as the Turks are now become objects of public attention in consequence of the war carried on against them by Russia . . . we have abridged this author’s account of its origin.’ The press emphasized public interest in the news, although much of the evidence cited was for London and by London newspapers. Writing in the Busy Body, a London triweekly on 20 October 1759, Oliver Goldsmith described a walk through London on the night of the illuminations for the capture of Québec, using it to mock public euphoria and to press for a reasonable peace. His satire captured the role of sociability in the discussion of politics. In Ashley’s, a punch house, ‘the old waiter, who usually serves his customers with politics and punch’, told his audience that Britain could easily take Paris – ‘only sail up forty men of war to their very gates’ – and the company there was as sanguine. At the Smyrna coffeehouse: the company were prescribing terms of peace . . . keeping all North America . . . circumscribing the number of the French fleet . . . getting 50 J. Brewer, Party Ideology and Popular Politics at the Accession of George III (Cambridge, 1976). 51 NA. SP. 78/275 fol. 34; Hardwicke to Newcastle, 1 Ap. 1762, BL. Add. 33030 fols 260–2. 52 P. Lawson, ‘ “Arts and Empire, equally extend”: Tradition, Prejudice and Assumption in the eighteenth century press coverage of empire’, in K. Schweizer and J. Black (eds), Politics and the Press in Hanoverian Britain (Lewiston, NY, 1989), p. 127.

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back Minorca . . . everything settled in such a manner as that we could annoy our enemies at pleasure, without their having any power to hurt us. Although Newcastle, who was not a habitué of them, thought public antigovernment discussion in the coffeehouses had become constrained, James Boswell had a conversation in Child’s Coffeehouse in which a Londoner criticized the forthcoming peace as ‘a damned bad one’.53 The St James’s Chronicle of 27 September 1764, discussing whether Britain should have continued the Seven Years’ War in order to retain Guadeloupe and Martinique, commented: ‘even our tinkers and cobblers are politicians and the first to roar; as they would be the first to roar against the additional halfpenny on their pot of porter [beer] when that war had made the levying it necessary’. The issue of 9 January 1766 carried a coffee-house dialogue in London in which Dunkirk, Turks Island, Newfoundland, Honduras, Canada Bills, and the Manila Ransom were all discussed. Newspapers and pamphlets were not only considered and debated in coffee-houses, but also referred to by politicians and diplomats,54 and they helped to link the worlds of the politically active and the politically interested. As a result, publications were actively sponsored by politicians. Nevertheless, although its case was pressed by opposition newspapers,55 the direct impact of public opinion on policy was limited, not least because public opinion was divided and attempts to present the views of this inherently diverse opinion as a unity could be contested. Indeed, in 1763, despite strong criticism in the press, the ministry was able to win overwhelming parliamentary support for the peace terms. Yet, this example and criterion does not establish that public opinion had no role, and it was notable that the government took pains to sponsor favourable publications. Moreover, as an instance of the role of public opinion, there was a strong sense after the Seven Years’ War on the part of ministers that Britain must be both wary of excessive Continental commitments and vigilant towards Bourbon maritime and colonial plans, and this sense matched the lineaments of public debate. Indeed, that debate both framed and in part constituted the experience that politicians used to guide or explain their actions. Public opinion was no monolith, and opinions divided those of the same status as well as others more clearly representing what might be seen as self-interest. In 1766, Lady Mary Coke noted being visited by Lady Blandford who criticized Chatham (Pitt the Elder):

53 Newcastle to Hardwicke, 1 Jan. 1763, BL. Add. 32946 fol. 11; F.A. Pottle (ed.), Boswell’s London Journal, 1762–1763 (New Haven, Conn., 1950), p. 74. For opposition speeches in coffeehouses, Briton, 1 Jan. 1763. 54 For an inclosed item (now missing) providing information on Pitt’s views, Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 4 Nov. 1760, AST. LM. Ing. 65. For a French translation of the St James’ Chronicle of 9 Dec. 1762 and of pamphlets, AE. CP. Ang. 445 fols. 122–78. 55 Monitor, 23 Ap. 1763.

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She said all she knew of him was that it had been his measures that had involved the nation in debt; I told her I was persuaded she would see that that his measures would extricate the nation from that debt; she could not tell how that could be, since he had always declared himself above thinking of accounts or studying economy; I rejoiced he was above such trifles, hoped his schemes were great and extensive, not bonded to the dirty economy of a shilling.56 Moreover, there was no closed bureaucratic world surrounding the formulation and execution of foreign policy. Although the staff of the offices of the Secretaries of State were long-serving, the key figures politically were the Secretaries, and none in this period was a former Under-Secretary. Instead, they were essentially politicians as well as royal servants, the latter a role seen in terms of their often earlier being diplomats. Thus, there was little sense of bureaucratic continuity in advocating particular lines in the face of possible political opposition. If politicians’ opinions were shaped by, and responded to, a wider, more amorphous, world of opinion, that world was neither uniform nor did it provide detailed guidance over policy. There were public opinions, rather than public opinion. Press criticism can be misleading, but it certainly offered a degree of consistency in its xenophobia and in calls for vigilance against the Bourbons. This criticism was directed not only against foreign governments, societies, cultures and ideologies, but also against their supposed British supporters, or, at least, against those unwilling to act against the Bourbons. The political and religious reverberations ebbed with the defeat in 1759 of the French plan to invade in support of the Jacobite claim to the throne. Nevertheless, drawing on the idea and reality that conflict between Britain and France was ‘a national war’,57 there was a widespread sense of cultural challenge, one reiterated across the press and on the stage. This challenge was seen as coming in particular from France, and from British supporters and consumers of French cultural fashions, ranging from cooking to hairstyles, and theatre to prostitutes. These preferences, which could be disparaged as the fashions of the Court, were criticized bitterly in the press,58 but they did not disappear, and, although there was scant public defence of them, any more than of Catholic or Jacobite views, to discount them is to imply a homogeneity that did not exist. More pertinently, there was no simple contrast between xenophobic views, for which ‘patriotism’ could be regarded as the political creed, and those that they criticized. Instead, alongside the widespread sense of cultural

The Letters and Journals of Lady Mary Coke, Vol 1 (1889). Citing the Spanish envoy, Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 19 Aug. 1760, AST. LM. Ing. 65. 58 London Evening Post, 8 Ap. 1762. Issue of 10 April 1764 criticized import of French silks hitting British production. 56 57

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challenge already noted, there was clearly a range of opinions. Separate to that, there was an unequal access to the world of print, with the landed interest in particular poorly represented. A continual theme in the press was that of paranoia, and a continued tone that of stridency about the ‘natural’ rival.59 For example, between September 1764 and the following June, the St James’s Chronicle, Ipswich Chronicle and Lloyd’s Evening Post between them complained about French smuggling to South Wales, French naval forces off Newfoundland, French tariffs on British iron and steel goods, the import of French lace, silks and baskets, and French fishing off the British coast. On a longstanding pattern, a theme of social criticism was a frequent aspect of the discussion, as in the St James’s Chronicle of 18 May 1765: It is said that several French hairdressers and friseurs, French milliners and mantua-makers have raised good fortunes since the late peace, by artfully introducing and selling the silk manufactures of their own country to the gentry etc they did business for, which has been the principal cause of the present miserable situation of the poor Spitalfields weavers; and notwithstanding a seizure now and then has been made of French goods, the said illicit trade is daily carried on by means of the easy access they have to the gentlemen and ladies who employ them. There was no real suggestion that such cultural preferences determined government policy, but press attacks helped to sustain a critique that foreign policy was not conducted in light of national interests. This claim was easy to advance because the understanding of what these interests meant in terms of policy was far from clear. The influence of this critique on government policy is open to question. Thus, criticism of an alleged ministerial failure to defend national interests was an aspect of a mentality of independence that affected aristocrats and populace alone. However, this mentality did not connect to any deep extent with electoral politics, and, indeed, the decline of party divisions and identities in the 1750s and, even more, 1760s transformed part of these politics into an essentially local preoccupation with oligarchy and independence. Nevertheless, there were national political issues, while in many parliamentary seats national politics were also local. Newspapers certainly thought that any failure to stand up to the Bourbons was politically charged. Yet, during the Falkland Islands crisis, the Westminster Journal, in its issue of 1 December 1770, printed a piece attacking popular prejudice and, in contrast to the general claim that the Bourbons could not be trusted, argued that their friendship should be cultivated, adding:

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We know very well that Jack Helter-Skelter says, ‘damn the Spaniards, we shall soon give them a belly-full, and bring home their treasure by shipload after ship-load.’ Better to cultivate their friendship, and supply them with the manufactures of Great Britain. ‘Jack Helter-Skelter’ offered an instance of a Protestant-centred patriotism consisting of an intense anti-French and anti-Popish xenophobia; opposition to France and Spain; and pride in native Protestantism, prosperity and personal liberty, a patriotism that greatly influenced the discussion of policy, but less clearly its details. The religious theme was pushed very hard during the Seven Years’ War, including in the press. The Monitor and the London Evening Post saw divine support at work, which entailed living up to the responsibility.60 Holdernesse, one of the Secretaries of State was sure that ‘Providence’ was at work.61 The London Evening Post unsuccessfully pressed on 11 December 1762 that French Protestants be guaranteed at least an end to persecution in the peace treaty. Moreover, such Protestant attitudes highlighted the question of the stability of Ireland, and its role in British policy, issues that periodically became of interest in wartime but with a division of opinion over whether there was a danger of rebellion62 or not.63 The debate over foreign policy more generally drew on frequentlyexpressed ideas about national characters, constitutions and exceptionalisms, and, in turn, greatly contributed to them. Thus, at a time of apparent war without end, the London Chronicle of 5 January 1762 claimed: Britain and France are now evidently contending who shall first bankrupt the other: But let us see the different effects of bankruptcy in each kingdom. Bankruptcy in France would scarcely make any alteration in its internal government; it would ruin the merchants and beggar the tradesmen and peasants; the whole would be impoverished, but the King and the Noblesse would rather increase than diminish their relative power over the People. British commentators saw their own country as different; and foreign policy and war served them as ways to demonstrate their views. At the same time, foreign rulers and ministers were also aware of the need to consider the views of their publics and were frequently willing to argue the same. Responding in 1760 to pressure from Andrew Mitchell, the British envoy,

Monitor, 3, 24 Nov. 1759; London Evening Post, 9 Dec. 1762. Holdernesse to Mitchell, 9 Dec. 1759, NA. SP. 90/74. 62 Camden to Shelburne, 2 Sept. 1780, BL. Bowood, 38. 63 Conway to Shelburne, 30 June 1782, BL. Bowood, 40. 60 61

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who made reference to ‘the minds of the People of England, who were accustomed to reason, and to judge upon appearances’, Frederick the Great snapped: ‘with some vivacity that though he was accountable to no Parliament, yet he owed protection to his subjects, whom he was obliged to defend with his whole force’ and that he did not wish to face popular reproach.64

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CHAPTER THREE

To Win America, 1758–60 The strategic/foreign policy interaction appeared to contemporaries to have a clear linkage, and has since continued to be seen in this light.1 The relationship between the commitment of British troops to the Continent from 1758, as part of the alliance with Prussia, and the gains made in the New World from the same year, notably with the fall of the French Cape Breton base of Louisbourg, was readily understood as important. As, however, so often is the case, the importance encouraged political contention. Partly as a result, there is a degree to which reality and rhetoric were confused or, more accurately, to which the rhetoric was part of the reality, as well as the reverse. This was true on a number of levels. First, the government itself was presenting its strategy in the best light possible. This in particular entailed underplaying the significant Hanoverian dimension of Britain’s Continental commitment. Such an underplaying was a response to the ambiguities and sensitivities of the politics surrounding Britain’s constitutional practice, both with regard to Hanover and, as a related but also separate issue, in so far as the Crown was concerned. George II’s concern with Hanover had been a key driver of the British strategy and policy, and the Seven Years’ War or ‘War of 1755’ as Philip, 1st Earl of Hardwicke termed it during its course,2 did not bring any changes in this respect for George,3 while the French invasion of Hanover in 1757 drove the issue to the fore. At the same time, there was the need during the war, both at the time and subsequently, to respond to the particular crises of 1756–7, crises that brought recent anxieties to a height. The failure then of Britain’s alliance system in the shape of the most important alliances, with Austria and Russia, each of whom not only moved from Britain, but also allied with France, was followed

Amongst the wealth of excellent scholarship, a very good introduction is provided by D.A. Baugh, The Global Seven Years War, 1754–1763: Britain and France in a Great Power Contest (2011). 2 Ibid., p. 272. 3 J.M. Black, British Politics and Foreign Policy, 1744–57. Mid-Century Crisis (Farnham, 2015). 1

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by that of the defence of Hanover in 1757. Moreover, the grave difficulties elsewhere – in Minorca and North America more specifically – accentuated political criticism in Britain about the commitment to the Continent. The politics of this developing crisis contributed greatly to the ministerial turmoil of 1756–7, more specifically the fall of the Newcastle ministry in 1756, and the pronounced and, for a while, apparently intractable tension between George II and his ministers and would-be ministers, notably the demanding Pitt,4 who, as Granville, 2nd Earl Gower was to note in 1770, was ‘remarkable for blowing hot and cold, as his purposes were answered’.5 As a consequence, a key driver of strategy and foreign policy in the subsequent years of the war – and, more particularly, until the constraints were relaxed by, first, great wartime success (1759) and, then, the accession of a new king (1760) – was provided by the determination to avoid a recurrence of this political situation of 1756–7. This drive prefigured the consequences of the instability of 1782–4 for politics and policies in subsequent years. To put a political emphasis central for the Seven Years’ War, when a country is fighting for its survival may appear surprising in a discussion of strategy, but the opposite is in reality the case, for ‘strategy’ if it is seen as a practice of power required a ministry, indeed a stable one; and that stability was dependent on politics which had their own requirements. The last point, a functional one, can be taken further into the political sphere by noting that the degree of need and its content were themselves contested in formulation, tested in implementation, and shaped and constructed by, and through, political pressures and processes. In the case of the Newcastle-Pitt ministry created with considerable difficulty in 1757, one that lasted for the remainder of the reign of George II, this outcome in practice required a linkage of two very different elements. On the one hand, there were George’s concerns and, linked to them, the experience of the ministers accustomed to managing the king, notably Newcastle. These concerns could overlap with the longstanding views of ‘Old Corps Whigs’, especially Newcastle, who had advocated an alliance system as part of the Whig inheritance; but the concerns could also clash radically with them. On the other hand, there was the emphasis on maritime goals and means. This emphasis was strongest in traditional opposition circles, both Tory and Opposition Whig, each of which had a narrative of criticism of the ‘Old Corps Whig’ ministry for looking to the monarch, to Hanoverian interests, and to expensive Continental commitments, as opposed to what were seen as clear-cut and natural national interests. Pitt proved best able to articulate these views in the mid-1750s or, rather, to offer an account of strategy in which they appeared central. Ironically, he was helped by the totally

4 J.C.D. Clark, The Dynamics of Change. The Crisis of the 1750s and English Party Systems (Cambridge, 1982). 5 Cobbett, XVI, 1113.

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unexpected collapse of the ‘Old Alliance’ with Austria (and its ally Russia) and the Dutch, because the disruption of traditional links, and the serious crisis in expectation and practice it caused, led to the unaccustomed remedy of an alliance with Prussia combined with an oceanic policy. Both during the course of the Seven Years’ War and later, as its course was bitterly contested as part of the politics of the 1760s, the claim was to be made that Britain conquered ‘America’, in other words Canada, in Germany. This, indeed, was presented as a deliberate plan, not least by Pitt who achieved retrospective apotheosis as a great strategist as a result. In practice, the decision to send troops to Germany was seen as an unfortunate necessity, arising from the need to keep Hanover and Prussia in the war. This issue is crucial to the politics of foreign policy throughout the period, because the politicians involved in the peace years from 1763 contested policy in large part with reference to their understanding of the war years. The counterfactuals involved in this understanding are therefore central to the politics of foreign policy and to the scholarly assessment of the plausibility of the views offered. This was especially the case with the reputation of Pitt. Both the politician himself and those seeking to develop and take advantage of his legacy advanced their account of the politics of foreign policy by focusing on a vision of heroic wartime leadership. The key need was to explain the transformation of policy in 1758. Soon after he resigned in October 1761, Pitt justified his wartime leadership and focused on this very point. He declared that when he had joined the government: it was my opinion that being once engaged in the German war, there was nothing to be done but to make the best of it after the principal objects of this country should be provided for . . . the point was to consider whether it was not possible to make the German war useful to the interests of this country as a subordinate measure, while our marine and colonies should be the principal object. These were my ideas and I have had the happiness hitherto of seeing them succeed upon my plan, in both views – of Germany and of our maritime interests.6 As with much retrospective discussion of foreign policy as well as military strategy, this argument deployed hindsight in overlooking the risks of British policy. These risks were political as well as military; while, separate to these, there was the questionable proposition that, had her army not been committed in Germany, France would have been able to devote substantially more resources to the struggle in North America and, indeed, outside Europe. British troops were committed initially to defend the North Sea port of Emden, a limited goal pressed by Frederick II as well as by Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, Cumberland’s replacement in Germany. Pitt appreciated the

6

BL. Add. 38334 fol. 34.

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military necessity of the move but took care to ensure that he would appear to have accepted the commitment reluctantly; rather than to have instigated the move. In political terms, Pitt covered himself by supporting with fresh determination the ‘popular’ issues before the Commons, namely the Habeas Corpus Bill and the bill introduced by George Townshend to amend the Militia Act. This conduct in the spring of 1758 angered George II and depressed Newcastle. Nevertheless, it prevented any strong parliamentary opposition to the decision to commit troops to Germany. Pitt presented the dispatch of troops to Emden as a necessary step that did not divert manpower from North America, and this proved generally acceptable. In practical terms, Pitt had brought unanimity, and this was amply demonstrated by the ease with which Parliament granted the ministry’s substantial financial requirements. On 19 April, without a division, the Commons voted a subsidy to Prussia and money to support 50,000 troops in Ferdinand of Brunswick’s army which was to protect Hanover, thus pleasing George, and cover Prussia from French attack. The annual subsidy of £600,000, the largest hitherto given by Britain, was a formidable sum. As with many contentious decisions in eighteenth-century government, notably with regard to foreign policy, this one was taken soon after the beginning of the parliamentary recess. Pitt’s move was eased by the military and political backdrop, notably in the amphibious attacks on the French coast, which fulfilled traditional Tory notions of a maritime war and also limited the possible military commitment to the defence of Hanover. Although such expeditions were seen by some critics as a futile distraction of British resources, they did not mean that Pitt was unprepared to accept a greater commitment to Germany and he took care to persuade Bute to abandon his hostility to the idea of sending troops to Germany. However, relations with the court of Prince George at Leicester House were damaged by the political response to military setbacks. A failed attempt on St Malo in September 1758 was brought home on those responsible, who were protégés of this court, and their treatment, helped seriously to damage relations between Pitt and Leicester House. So also did a growing sense that Pitt was failing to consider the views of the young court sufficiently. In part, this was compounded by the varied political benefits of British successes, notably the surrender of Louisbourg, further afield, which led to kudos for Pitt and not for Leicester House. Military success was to rob parliamentary opponents of justification through failure. Indeed, a more optimistic note characterized British ministerial thinking about the war by late 1758. Far from the conflict being seen as primarily defensive, plans were now readily advanced to seize French possessions, not only in North America, but also in the West Indies, where Pitt proposed an attack on Martinique and West Africa. There the capture of the slave-trading base on the island of Gorée off Dakar was regarded as a necessary complement to the recent gain of Saint-Louis, Senegal, an instance of one gain leading to pressure for another. Gorée was indeed

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captured soon after. Pitt stressed the determination of the government to go onto the offensive with all vigour possible. At the same time, there were obvious military and political dangers. Frederick II was still outnumbered, while, although Ferdinand’s army in Westphalia had been far more successful than that of Cumberland, there was the risk that this achievement would be reversed and Hanover was thereby vulnerable. Diplomatically, Britain had had scant success, failing to win the alliance of the United Provinces or to sow dissension among the anti-Prussian coalition. As a crucial issue that did not take much of a role in public attention but, nevertheless, that led to diplomatic speculation, government finances and credit were both weak. Moreover, this issue had different political resonances with key figures taking a contrasting approach to how far they were prepared to let it influence them. Newcastle complained that Pitt’s ideas about finances were absurd and ignorant.7 George II was convinced, as he told Pitt, that Cape Breton and the, as yet, unconquered, Canada must be retained, and that Minorca should be regained by exchanging it with a yet to be captured Martinique. Newcastle thought both men unrealistic, argued that it would be difficult to find the funds to continue the war in 1759, and impossible to do so for 1760 and pressed the need for peace.8 Pitt, however, benefited from being associated widely with victory. His role in pressing for, and organizing, a substantial military effort in North America to conquer Canada was well known, and he was given much of the credit for success. Aside from the financial dimension, Pitt’s policy was challenged by the continual danger that Frederick might be forced to end the war on his opponents’ terms, forcing the British to negotiate peace. It is not surprising therefore that Pitt, who anyway was not prone to adopt an unemotional tone, reacted with such emotional intensity to Prussian victories, writing in September 1758 of: the King of Kings, whose last glories transcend all the past. The modesty of His Prussian Majesty’s relation, his silence of himself, and entire attribution of the victory to General Seidlitz, are of a mind as truly heroic as His Majesty’s taking a [regimental] colour in his own hand, when exhortations failed, and forcing a disordered infantry to follow him or see him perish. More glory can not be won, but more decisive, final consequences we still hope to hear, and languish for further letters from the Prussian army.9

Newcastle to Hardwicke, 17 Sept. 1758, BL. Add. 35418 fol. 23. Newcastle to Hardwicke, 17 Sept., 19 Oct. 1758, BL Add. 35418 fols 21, 45. 9 BL. Add. 69289. A reference to the battle of Zorndorf in which Seydlitz led a crucial cavalry charge. In practice, Prussia could ill-afford such a costly victory over Russia. 7 8

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The following month, Pitt claimed, ‘this heroic monarch’s happy genius never fails him when he wants it most’.10 However, discussions over likely peace terms reflected the possibility that the war might end soon. Furthermore, Newcastle repeatedly drew attention to the cost of continued conflict and the danger of a drying up of the credit essential to Britain’s war effort. As a key consideration, one significant for present-day analysis of the period but even more germane for contemporaries, the window of opportunity for major gains could not be expected to last. Against this background, the failure to capture Louisbourg in 1757 and conquer Canada in 1758 appeared more serious. However, the political resonance was very different. Contemporaries contrasted British success with the less brilliant trans-oceanic operations of the War of the Austrian Succession, when the colonial campaign was clearly a sideshow compared to the war in the Low Countries, particularly so given the failure then to follow up the capture of Louisbourg in 1745. The contrast was to be even more obvious by the close of 1759. It was the establishment of an essentially political solution to strategy and politics, and then its management, that became key to Pitt’s role and to the presentation of his legacy. That does not mean that there is not a functional dimension to assess, and such an assessment will follow. It is simply that in order to understand the governmental purchase of a particular strategy, it is crucial to appreciate the politics of the latter. Moreover, this politics was not only of the moment but also a matter of learning and contesting the lessons supposedly offered by the past. In part, this contestation was a matter of the ownership arising from the past positions of individuals, most prominently, but not only, George II, Newcastle and Pitt, and, even more, how they tried to shape them, especially to themselves, in order to provide an apparent coherence and continuity, and, thereby, personal vindication. Linked to this, came an attempt to do the same at the level of political groupings; although the personal was apt to come to the fore in this, and notably again as abstractions, such as the Crown or the ‘Old Corps’ Whigs, became a matter of George and Newcastle. Pitt was more interesting as he sought to bridge groupings or, less positively, use them to his own ends, or, more realistically, do both and better. In particular, Pitt tried to provide a national character and rationale to strategy, and in both goals and means,11 with him seeking, with some adeptness, to link them. At any rate, readings of the past played a major role in the politics of strategy and foreign policy, and notably so with a ‘deep history’ of supposed

BL. Add. 69289. R. Pares, ‘American versus Continental Warfare, 1739–63’, English Historical Review, 51 (1936), pp. 429–65; M. Peters, Pitt and Popularity: The Patriot Minister and London Opinion during the Seven Years War (Oxford, 1980); R. Middleton, The Bells of Victory: The PittNewcastle Ministry and the Conduct of the Seven Years’ War, 1757–1762 (Cambridge, 1985).

10 11

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medieval and Elizabethan forebears as well, but more specifically, in terms of a fighting through of the domestic and international legacy from the 1680s on. That approach was not sectionalized in terms of a periodization in which the seventeenth century or the Stuart dynasty were somehow different. Instead, it was not only Uncle Toby, a character in Laurence Sterne’s novel Tristram Shandy (1759–67), who looked back to the warfare of the 1690s. The degree to which family titles, acres and narratives arose from roles in the period 1680–1720 helped encourage this process in a society that was highly reverential of the past and referential to it. This dimension, indeed, provided one level of the functionality already mentioned, and that was as part of the political values at issue. There was also the question of the functionality that usually attracts modern attention, and not least as strategical parallels or lessons are sketched across centuries. However, this is very much a process of an approach that risks draining strategy and foreign policy of political values and specificity; and the intention here is to assess that approach, but then to put the politics back in. Conquering America in Germany is the adage most commonly employed, with the pro-Pitt Monitor declaring on 26 April 1760: ‘. . . the fate of Britain depends greatly on the balance of power on the Continent: which must be entirely destroyed, should the Prussian Hero be sacrificed to the policy of France’. The adage serves as description, exoneration and analysis, with the three run together in a generally misleading fashion. What is valuable about the adage is that it also provides agency to the opponent, in this case France. British strategy is presented as working because France was more concerned about the situation in Germany and, more particularly, the implications of its alliance with Austria negotiated in 1756, an alliance which was central to the so-called ‘Diplomatic Revolution’, as the two powers had long been rivals. In addition, Britain’s ‘blue water’ successes were presented as crucial to weakening France, as in the Monitor. Thus, on 2 February 1760, it claimed that the wealth derived from capturing France’s sugar islands would enable Britain to regain the money spent on Continental subsidies, and, with regard to Frederick the Great: ‘the best and only way to save him from the resentment of France is not to give up the places from whence she draws her strength and riches’. In contrast, the argument often runs that a failure to negotiate an alliance on the Continent and, more particularly, to engage France in Germany in 1778, led to disaster for Britain in America; which prefigured the situation in 1802–3 when peace in Europe allowed Napoleon to launch his ‘Western Strategy’ in the Caribbean, only for that to fail in large part because of the resumption of war with Britain and a developing crisis in Continental Europe; although the strength of the resistance on Saint-Domingue was also a factor. The 1778 comparison is flawed, however, because it exaggerates what Britain could have done then, but, more particularly, underrates a transformation in French policymaking. In particular, there was a reason for France to engage in Germany in 1778–9, the War of the Bavarian Succession,

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and Britain did not need to participate in order to cause this war between Austria and Prussia, a war that, as in 1756, found France allied to Austria. The key difference was that France decided, despite its alliance with Austria, not to intervene in 1778, but rather to focus on America. In 1754–5, France might have appeared destined for the same, with hostilities in Britain in America, but, in 1756, the Prussian attack on Saxony and Austria transformed French policy. British diplomatic correspondence and, even more, public debate can suggest a misleading degree to which British moves affected the overall situation and the specific moves of other powers, and this approach can be read through into the scholarship; but, in practice, Louis XV, Louis XVI and their ministries did not foreground the concerns of the Ministry of the Marine. That did not mean that Hanover was not seen as a way to put pressure on Britain and thus, possibly, to counteract British overseas gains; but that approach, during the Seven Years’ War and more generally, was an aspect of the essentially European focus of French policy, rather than a variant on its poorly-funded maritime policy.12 The British military in 1758, and more generally, were spread very thin as a result of a strategy that was as much bifurcated as coherent, and there was political criticism accordingly. In the debate on the Address in November 1758, William Beckford, a London MP who acted as the voice of mercantile opinion, warned against subordinating North American to German operations, while, in early 1759, Pitt was criticized for ‘Hanoverizing’.13 That March, the hostile Charles Townshend reported criticism in the Commons, notably of Pitt’s ‘Continental measures’.14 Ministers also noted the problems. John, 4th Duke of Bedford, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, arguing in 1759 against moving troops from Ireland, where he feared invasion, to Bengal.15 It was also very expensive to fight in both America and Germany, and Newcastle was worried about ‘these immense expenses’.16 Military dispositions from Germany to the West Indies posed major problems, including of the very frictions bound up in movement and placement. Once units had been dispatched to a particular location then they were ‘fixed’, first in transit and then in location, and to a degree that is underrated if the focus instead is on the relative ease of fungibility suggested by references to Germany and America, as if there was a strategic fluidity and geopolitical outcome for the asking. Instead, there really was an ‘either . . . or’; and for naval units as well as troops. Even so, when forces were sent to a particular area, this generally meant not coordinated strength, although

J.R. Dull, The French Navy and the Seven Years’ War (Lincoln, NB, 2005). Report by James West, BL. Add. 32885 fol. 524; Walpole, Memoirs of George II, III, 55. 14 Charles to George Townshend, 13 Mar. 1759, Bod. MS. Eng. hist. d.211 fols 5–6. 15 Bedford to Pitt, 29 Aug. 1759, Bedford Estate Office, papers of 4th Duke. 16 Newcastle to Rockingham, 2 Aug. 1759, WW R1–139. 12 13

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that could be obtained, but, rather, mismatches of need and force. In the Seven Years’ War, this situation was largely to work out for Britain, as was spectacularly not to be the case in 1781; but this working-out was far less easy than was to be presented in hindsight. Furthermore, clashes over troop moves between George II and his ministers, notably over whether to send troops to India or Germany,17 as well as between the ministers, were based not simply on considerations of interest, notably in the shape of George’s anxiety about Hanover. There was also definite fear about France, and that was justified, because it was not until the two great naval victories of 1759 – Lagos on 18–19 August and, far more, Quiberon Bay on 20 November – that the threat of invasion was really ended. Prior to that, the dispatch of troops and warships to distant locations was a high-risk strategy, and was seen in that light. Military success helped lead to political cohesion. Had British moves in Canada in 1758, 1759 and 1760, the years when respectively Louisbourg, Québec and Montreal fell, been unsuccessful, then it is difficult to see how there would not have been more criticism of the commitment to Germany. In addition, there might have been more pressure for peace, which would have raised tension over the terms that should be proposed and accepted. The war was expensive and the maintenance of domestic political harmony faced difficulties, so that, as the conflict continued, it became more important to obtain success, and increasingly so as Frederick was placed under greater strain. However, George II’s favour for Pitt increased in 1759–60 because both were willing to press for the continuation of the war to drive the French from North America, whereas Newcastle, who had to secure the finances for victory, thought both men unrealistic.18 Despite amphibious attacks on the French coast being very much associated with ‘blue water’ exponents, George also joined with Pitt in keenly backing an expedition to capture Belle Isle, an island off the Breton coast, although it was not mounted until 1761. Although supporting evidence is lacking, Robert Henley, later Earl of Northington, Keeper of the Great Seal from 1757 to 1761, later told Augustus, 3rd Duke of Grafton, ‘as a fact which he well know, that had the king lived, he would have placed the full power, as his minister, into the hands of Mr Pitt’.19 George was certainly busily following diplomacy.20 The year 1759 goes down as the ‘Year of Victories’ but, at the time, it was a year of crisis, and repeatedly so. It was the decisive year in the conflict with France, which was the sole power able both to challenge Britain at sea

BL. Add. 32897 fol. 87. Newcastle to Hardwicke,19 Oct.1758, BL. Add. 35418 fol. 45. 19 W.R. Anson (ed.), Autobiography and Political Correspondence of Augustus Henry, 3rd Duke of Grafton (1878), pp. 12–13. 20 BL. Add. 32880 fol. 309, 32890 fols 350, 106–8. 17 18

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without assistance and to threaten invasion. Indeed, a major invasion was planned for 1759. If successful, it would have overthrown the domestic context for both foreign policy and politics. The French planned landings in the Clyde and at Portsmouth, although the latter was altered to Essex because of the British blockade of the intended invasion port of Le Havre.21 The French planned to land 48,000 troops and to drive the British to peace. Whereas the French plan in 1744 had been wrecked by the weather, that in 1759 was wrecked by the British navy. The French navy was divided into two fleets, based in Brest and Toulon. This division limited the chance of achieving the concentration of force necessary to cover any invasion attempt, and British blockading squadrons sought to maintain this division. The Toulon fleet managed to get out of first its harbour and then the Mediterranean in August, but it was defeated by the pursuing fleet under Admiral Edward Boscawen near Lagos on the Portuguese coast on 18 August. The Royal Navy infringed Portuguese neutrality to do so, an act that subsequently took up much diplomatic time and paper, but, in this and other matters, diplomatic niceties proved subservient to power politics. More seriously, bad weather forced Hawke to lift the blockade of Brest in November. However, the French fleet was unable to sail, as planned, for Scotland via the west coast of Ireland. Instead, it took refuge in Quiberon Bay on the coast of Brittany, expecting that Hawke would not risk entering its shoal-strewn waters in such poor weather, but, on 20 November, he boldly attacked and the French fleet was scattered, with several ships captured or sunk. This triumph was crucial. Victories on land, such as at Minden in Germany on 1 August or the capture of Québec,22 were important to the economy of making gains and preventing losses which played such a major role in determining the content of eventual peace settlements. However, without naval superiority, such victories could only be precarious. Naval success owed less to any bold new strategic conception than to the ability of the administration to keep a large number of ships at sea and to the quality of the admirals, captains, and sailors. In the meantime, when faced with invasion, the risky nature of the situation was advanced when explaining to Prussia why it was not possible to meet demands for the dispatch of a squadron to the Baltic, the naval equivalent to the dispatch of troops to Germany. The latter focused political attention at the time, and has been the cause of subsequent discussion by commentators, whereas the lack of a British fleet in the Baltic was, and is, a matter of specialist knowledge. In practice, as the French did not intend to send a fleet to the Baltic, as they had done twice in the 1730s, while French troops were a more marginal threat to the Prussian heartland after

C. Nordmann, ‘Choiseul and the Last Jacobite Attempt of 1759’, in E. Cruickshanks (ed.), Ideology and Conspiracy. Aspects of Jacobitism, 1689–1759 (Edinburgh, 1982), pp. 201–17. 22 M. Ward, The Battle for Quebec 1759 (Stroud, 2016). 21

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the crushing French defeat at Rossbach in 1757, the fleet would have been useful to Prussia, instead, as an affirmation of British support, and as a way to counter Russian and Swedish moves and, in particular, supplies by sea, but Britain was at war with neither. This issue led to repeated disagreements between Frederick and Andrew Mitchell, the British envoy, as in March 1760 when Frederick, drawing attention to the differing levels and timetables of policy, claimed that Britain sought: ‘to keep certain measures with Russia, notwithstanding the present conjuncture of affairs’ and cited ‘the late refusal . . . of sending an English fleet into the Baltic’. Mitchell replied: that I thought the refusal might be accounted for without having recourse to the principle of management . . . the various, necessary, and indispensable services, to which His Majesty’s fleets were destined in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America.23 In April, Frederick returned to the charge over the Baltic, but also presented a clearly political reading of strategy when he told Mitchell that the French government was divided over war or peace, and that he hoped from Britain for the: steady and vigorous execution of these projects, and particularly the alarming their coasts at the same time with apprehension of descent could not fail to raise great murmurings among the people (who were already tired of the war) and might strengthen the hands of those ministers who were disposed to peace.24 The navy linked the military and economic edges of power, as well as the different spheres of British power. With reference to blockade, Joseph Yorke reported in October 1759 from The Hague, that French credit was falling, adding ‘it is certainly a great expense to be blocking up all their ports as we do, but the effect is very great, and distresses them to the highest degree’.25 With warships, the focus for Britain was very much on bettering France. The question, indeed, was whether an excessive risk was taken in 1758–9 by sending so many to distant stations that there were insufficient to match adequately the Toulon and Brest squadrons in European waters. In practice, each squadron was able to escape, only to be pursued and destroyed; but there was nothing inevitable about the outcomes. Blockade was difficult, whether close or distant, and the result of any naval battle unpredictable, as the British had discovered with their previous major one: Byng’s unsuccessful

Mitchell to Holdernesse, 29 Mar. 1760, NA. SP. 90/75. Mitchell to Holdernesse, 20 Ap. 1760, NA. SP. 90/75. 25 Yorke to Newcastle, 16 Oct. 1759, BL. Add. 32897 fol. 120. 23 24

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attempt to relieve Minorca in 1756. Indeed, it is too easy to read from the naval victories at Lagos and Quiberon Bay in order to assume foreordained outcomes. That was not a mistake made by ministers in 1758-9, no more than it had been in 1744–7, and that was as well given the failure to defeat the French fleet in 1744 and 1778–81 despite being able to engage it in battle. Indeed, in 1778, General Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander in North America, very much captured a significance of British naval dominance, in writing that ‘provisions . . . we should never have less than six months in advance’, before continuing that, due to French intervention, the situation had changed as the French navy could capture a British supply fleet, which, in the event, it never did. The subsequent reading back of strategic assessment in order to castigate or vindicate policy choices requires correction in terms of the particular discussions of the time; and notably so of the ‘slowing down’ arising from specific conundrums in terms of prioritization in a context of limited information and uncertain performance. This situation was accentuated by the geographical scale of commitments and the consequent timescale of deployment. It was only after the naval victories of late 1759 that this strategy became less dangerous for Britain, an outcome underlined by the very cause of these victories: a French invasion plan. That risk throws light on the relative wisdom of sending significant forces abroad. Units sent to North America could not be readily moved back to Europe; which proved to be a major issue when Wellington faced Napoleon in 1815 with many of the Iron Duke’s Peninsular veterans then in the New World. Why then did it all work in 1758–60, with the Marquis de Vaudreuil, the Governor of New France, capitulating at Montréal on 8 September 1760 and victories abroad helping to smooth parliamentary proceedings?26 Was more than happenstance involved? The latter had certainly been displayed in 1758, with the costly defeat of the British attack on Carillon/Ticonderoga; as well as the limited impact of British raids on the Channel coast. Even more, in 1759, when James Wolfe did not rapidly win success against Québec (which only fell on 13 September) and there was concern in London about his ‘very doubtful’ mission.27 Moreover, that year, the British only took Guadeloupe after failing totally at Martinique. In 1760, there were fears that France would regain Québec,28 but Choiseul was closer to the mark when he warned that under Pitt, who cared nothing if Hanover was devastated, Britain could seize all France’s colonies and then turn on Spain.

Holdernesse to Robert Keith, 2 Nov. 1759, BL. Add. 35483 fol. 40; Hans Stanley to Newcastle, 24 Nov. 1759, BL. Add. 32899 fol. 83; Richard Potenger to Mitchell, 22 Dec. 1759, BL. Add. 6823 fol. 73. 27 Robert Ellison to Henry Ellison, 25 Sept. 1759, Gateshead, Public Library, Ellison papers, A12 no. 9; Edmund Burke to Elizabeth Montagu, 6 Oct. 1759, HL. MO. 656. 28 Viry to Charles Emmanuel, 17, 24 June 1760, AST. LM. Ing. 65. 26

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Martinique, Mauritius and Réunion were seen as particularly vulnerable, the loss of the last two cutting off French links with India.29 British troops had been dispatched to North America in 1755, at a time when there was no comparable commitment elsewhere. In 1758–60, in contrast, when there were major other commitments, the deployment of far greater strength transformed the situation, while the campaigns were an impressive triumph of resources and planning, one that indicated the rapidly-developed skill of the British army in North America.30 The relatively small forces deployed in North America, and notably in the interior, put a great premium on leadership, including an ability to understand and exploit terrain, as well as morale, unit cohesion and firepower. The British were generally adept at all of these, but so too were their opponents and sometimes more so. Moreover, the French were helped by the difficulties of the British task, including the complications of amphibious attacks, the problems of operating in the interior, the need to allocate limited resources, logistical issues, and the resourcefulness of Montcalm, the leading French commander. Nevertheless, from 1758, the British proved able to translate their superiority in resources into a bold ability to seize the tempo of operations and to use this gaining of the initiative in order to produce a series of gains that influenced domestic and international opinion and disorientated the French.31 In 1758–60, British operations in the Western hemisphere were also very much reliant on the supporting role of Britain’s colonies, which was not surprising as the colonists were British subjects and the war was in part a struggle for their protection. Yet, that aspect, which was important to the geopolitics of the struggle, can be underplayed not least in providing a significant narrative and analytical dimension to the period covered by this book as a whole. In one respect, there was a prefigurement with the colonists to that with India from the 1762 expedition to capture Manila up to the mid-twentieth century, for Indian manpower was crucial to Britain’s war effort in the Second World War, notably in the Middle East, East Africa and South Asia, but was then lost with independence in 1947, leaving Britain militarily far weaker when, for example, it considered intervention in Iran in 1951. Although colonial governors and regular officers could complain bitterly about a failure to provide men,32 the New World colonists had played the key role from the outset in ensuring protection both against hostile native people and against rival Europeans, and were also the crucial

29 Choiseul to Ossun, 19 Feb. 1760, AE. CP. Esp. 527 fols 233–5; A. Bourguet, Le Duc de Choiseul et l’Alliance Espagnole (Paris, 1906), pp. 91–2. 30 S. Brumwell, Redcoats: The British Soldier and War in the Americas, 1755–1763 (Cambridge, 2002). 31 H. Boscawen, The Capture of Louisbourg, 1758 (Norman, OK., 2011). 32 Horatio Sharpe, Governor of Maryland to Earl of Albemarle, 23 July 1755, T. Keppel, The Life of Augustus Viscount Keppel (2 vols, London, 1842) I, 212.

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force in controlling the slave population. Thus, far from being an ‘add-on’ to regular forces, it was the latter who in effect served in that capacity, a situation that was similar to the dispatch of royal forces, army and naval, to India. The need for regular forces was greater in the New World when the emphasis was on territorial expansion at the expense of other European powers. However, conflict with Native Americans remained important, and regular troops served accordingly in North America the early 1760s after the French surrendered in 1760; both in the Cherokee War (1758–61)33 and in Pontiac’s War (1763–6). In conflict with other European powers, the Royal Navy provided crucial ‘lift’ or power-projection, which was a matter not only of transporting troops, but also supplies, as well as the provision of cannon (ships’ guns) and gunners. Cannon were of particular significance because of the role of European-style fortified positions as colonial bases, and notably so at the crucial interchange of trans-oceanic routes with local land and water ones. Québec was a key instance, as were the major anchorages that provided naval bases if not port cities, such as Havana and Louisbourg. Applied industrial capability in the shape of effective artillery was important to British successes. Francis Browne noting of the attack on Havana in 1762: Our new batteries against the town being perfected (which consisted of forty-four pieces of cannon) we all at once, by a signal, opened them and did prodigious execution. Our artillery was so well served and the fire so excessively heavy and incessant . . . that the Spaniards could not possibly stand to their guns.34 The British landed successfully on Martinique in 1762, ‘silencing the batteries by the ships’ gunfire’.35 The anchoring of the European presence with fortified positions was seen with the significance of St Augustine and, to a lesser extent, Pensacola in the Spanish presence in Florida, and of Mobile and New Orleans for the French in their colony of Louisiana. The harbour facilities at Halifax were able to support the over-wintering of a substantial British squadron in 1758–9. There might appear to be a simple counterpointing, that of colonial populations essentially concerned about native opposition (as well as slave control), while royal governments focused on the bases of rival European powers; and with both deploying their forces accordingly. Indeed, such an emphasis might be suggested by the distribution of forces in 1758–9 as the colonists were most important in the further westward prong of the British

33 J. Oliphant, Peace and War on the Anglo-Cherokee Frontier, 1756–63 (Baton Rouge, LA, 2002). 34 Francis to Jeremy Browne, 26 Oct. 1762, BL. RP. 3284. 35 Champbell Dalrymple to Lord Barrington, Secretary at War, 20 Jan. 1762, NA. WO. 1/19 fol. 81.

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advance, notably the drive on Fort Duquesne (later Pittsburgh),36 while regular forces dominated the maritime one on Louisbourg (1758) and Québec (1759). Yet, while accurate for that instance, this example needs to be read in a broader context. First, colonists saw an integrated challenge, with opposition from Native Americans encouraged by hostile European powers, as also was the opportunity for slave escapees, especially to Spanish Florida. Thus, to deal with either, it was necessary to end this hostile presence, which, indeed, was a key reason for the American attacks on Canada during the War of 1812. Secondly, the colonists were interested in the very opportunities offered by seizing rival maritime bases and colonies. Thus, for South Carolina and Georgia, there was a longstanding drive to capture St Augustine, as well as considerable interest in expansion into the Caribbean. So also with New England interest in gaining Louisbourg and Québec. As a result, some earlier expeditions, for example those of 1691 against Québec and, far more successfully, 1745 against Louisbourg, essentially relied on local manpower to provide the troops. The population of British America was far larger than its French counterpart, and even when British regulars played a significant role, there was an important local component, and not only with manpower, but also with supplies and bases. This mixed military system was both more generally true of Britain and also crucial to its military activity in the New World; the latter a subject in which the Caribbean should not be separated from North America, for that was a later separation that did not match contemporary imperial policymaking, foreign policy, or strategy. A mixed military system was central to British strategy and geopolitics. In part, functionally, it drew on the relatively small size of the British homeland population, not least in comparison to France and with reference to the tasks that had to be confronted. Each of those factors had become more significant from 1689 as, prior to that, Britain’s overseas opponents were, from the 1650s, separately, Spain and the Dutch, and those conflicts, especially the latter, could largely be waged with naval forces. France, however, was in a better position to invade England, to intervene in Ireland, and to threaten what became the nexus of Britain’s alliance system: the Low Countries. Partly as a consequence, a greater requirement for military manpower pressed on Britain, a society with only modest population growth prior to the mid-eighteenth century, and one for which the navy clearly came first in terms of its strategic requirements and public debate. This process was scarcely eased by the ‘nationalization’ of ‘blue water’ ambitions so that expeditions of regular forces sent from Britain were employed to try to gain trans-oceanic bases, and notably so in the Caribbean, in the 1590s, 1650s and 1740s.

M. Ward, Breaking the Backcountry: The Seven Years’ War in Virginia and Pennsylvania, 1754–1765 (Pittsburgh, Penn., 2003). 36

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Requirements for manpower were both varied in themselves and imposed on societies with contrasting amounts of manpower, which helps explain why they were met very differently across Europe, not least with conscription becoming increasingly significant from the late seventeenth century and, even more, in the eighteenth. It is here that the functional account to imperial expansion and force structure, with its general presentation in terms of a quasi-Darwinian pursuit of best practice, and the danger thereby of sinking easily into reductionism, ceases to be so helpful because it loses sight of the degree to which ideological factors in foreign policy are not simply explained by functionalism (or vice versa), but, instead, have an autonomous dynamic. In this case, there was no inherent functional reason why Britain should not develop powerful standing armies, as both the 1650s and the 1680s showed, but the legacy of both episodes was to make such an outcome totally unacceptable.37 This situation was taken further because the Whig legacy of hostility to everything representable by the would-be autocratic James II (r. 1685–8) was compounded by Tory hostility, both to soldier kings in the shape of William III, George I and George II, and to the high taxation and commitment to Continental power-politics (correctly) seen as central to their policies. This was an instance of how recent history influenced policy. This combined hostility, which was amply shared by British colonists greatly affecting their attitudes in the 1770s, did not mean an opposition to military service, for there was considerable support for the equivalent of what became a militia system, and in the colonies as well as Britain. Instead, this hostility meant opposition to a large army under the central government, one that was to be inherited in an independent America, helping make it different to revolutionary France. There was an equivalent in Britain in the case of the Royal Navy, but, aside from its benign public image, the navy in peacetime was largely laid up, and the sailors, whether volunteers or pressed, mostly returned to the merchant marine. Manpower, however, was a serious difficulty in wartime, dependent, in the absence of a naval reserve or a regular system of conscription, on impressment – forcible conscription by the press gang – which led not only to individual hardship and the disruption of trade, but also to problems of desertion and generally inadequate numbers. Given the large crews required to work the sails and man the guns on warships, the desertion in 1755–7 of 12,700 men out of the 70,000 recruited was serious. In February 1759, when it was learnt that the French were planning to invade, only twenty-one of the forty-one ships of the line in British waters were properly manned. The emphasis on naval manpower ensured that in

37 L.G. Schwoerer, ‘No Standing Armies’: Antiarmy Ideology in Seventeenth-century England (Baltimore, MD., 1974).

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1755, before war was formally declared, the Royal Navy began seizing French vessels in order to deprive their fleet of sailors.38 The emphasis on militia forces was scarcely unique to Britain; but their proportion was higher than in the case of France due to the large size of its regular army and the far smaller size of the British one. Moreover, this was an aspect of the mixed military system, one more generally characteristic of the British state: that of a combination of effective centrally-run institutions, such as the navy, the ordnance, and the excise,39 with the decentralized practice of authority and power, responsibility and resource, across large parts not only of society but also of the state. The raising of manpower for the military shared in both aspects, not least because there was no one source or ‘package’ for the manpower; and this domestic situation had become even more complex as a consequence of the major significance of Highland Scots and Irish in the military by the 1750s. Their service lessened suspicions about Jacobitism and, to a lesser extent, Catholics. Of the Scots Jacobites, the Briton of 19 June 1762 claimed: ‘the survivors have since literally washed away their offences with their blood; witness their bones now bleaching in almost every quarter of the globe – at Cape Breton . . . .’ The Monitor asked on 27 October 1759: ‘Can Britain ever forget how much she is indebted to a [Brigadier-General James] Murray, whose example and intrepidity taught and led on his Highland laddies to mow down the enemy with their broad swords, like grass under the scythe?’ In his Discourse on the Establishment of a National and Constitutional Force in England (1757), Charles Jenkinson, who was to serve as Secretary at War in 1778–82, pressed for a militia on the grounds that a strong army threatened national liberties. Indeed, the very fact that such an army was seen as central to French governance, made it unacceptable: we are in this dilemma, either to keep our army so low as to be inadequate to the purposes for which it was intended; or to raise it so high as to make it one time or other dangerous to our constitution; for certain it is that any number of troops which will be sufficient to repel the strength of France, will have the power, if they should have the inclination, to enslave us.40 The mixed military was also seen in the different spheres of overseas army activity; and the varied responses captured the flexibility of the British state. That flexibility can be related to a ‘modern’, quasi-Newtonian, rational,

38 R. Middleton, ‘Naval administration in the age of Pitt and Anson’, in J. Black and P. Woodfine (eds), The British Navy and the Use of Naval Power in the Eighteenth Century (Leicester, 1988), p. 119; S. Gradish, The Manning of the British Navy during the Seven Years’ War (1980); Holdernesse to Robert Orme, 14 Oct. 1755, BL. Eg. 3488 fol. 99. 39 J. Brewer, The Sinews of Power: War, money and the English state, 1688–1783 (1989). 40 C. Jenkinson, Discourse (1757), p. 66.

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problem-serving, approach that can be linked to Whiggism. However, as also with discussion of a related rational approach, that of the balance of power as a means to understand international relations, there is the need, in addition, to capture the degree to which ad hoc responses arose in short order in response to particular problems, such that expediency from within the context of current arrangements was the key element. The raising of military resources was very much part of this due to the abrupt shifting of gears between peacetime and wartime, a shifting that was especially the case with Britain due to the small size of peace establishments. In the case of India, the East India Company, like its French rival, faced with a very adverse demographic situation, took advantage of a welldeveloped local military labour market in order to raise substantial forces for its own army. In addition, like the French, it allied with local potentates to the same end. There was, however, often a marked contrast in the reliability of the two components, while, as with their French counterparts, the units under the control of the English East India Company were armed and trained in order to maximize fire discipline.41 In 1790, Cornwallis wrote of the sepoy units: It is highly expedient and indeed absolutely necessary for the public good that the officers who are destined to serve in those corps should come out at an early period of life, and devote themselves entirely to the Indian service; a perfect knowledge of the language, and a minute attention to the customs and religious prejudices of the sepoys being qualifications for that line which cannot be dispensed with . . . how dangerous a disaffection in our native troops would be to our existence in this country.42 In India, the British and French focused on particular military tools and skills, notably flintlock muskets, bayonets, prepared cartridges, cast-iron cannon, and the appropriate tactics. Western-equipped and trained infantry with their lighter muskets could move forward on the battlefield, whereas the muskets of the army of Nadir Shah of Persia which had successfully invaded India in 1739 were too heavy and therefore useful essentially for firing from a static position. Similarly, British cannon tended to be more effective than the ‘large, unwieldy pieces’ of their opponents.43 Improving fortifications was also a Western forte and one to which the British devoted considerable investment in providing what was both a forcemultiplier and a secure base. John Corneille noted in 1754 that when Fort St David in the Carnatic was acquired by the Company, it was ‘an irregular C. Wickremesekera, ‘Best Black Troops in the World’: British Perceptions and the Making of the Sepoy, 1746–1805 (New Delhi, 2002). 42 Cornwallis to Henry Dundas, President of the Board of Control, 4 Ap. 1790, NA. PRO. 30/11/151 fol. 40. 43 M. Edwardes (ed.), Major John Corneille, Journal of my service in India (1966), p. 124. 41

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square fortified according to the Moorish manner, with round towers at the angles’, whereas the Company had ‘modernised the fortifications with a good bastion at each angle, a hornwork before the gateway, two half-moons in the ditch . . . and a well-mined glacis’. They were fortifying Madras with ‘several excellent good bastions, and a broad, deep, wet ditch’, and at Trichinopoly had replaced a reliance on high battlements and round towers by adding bastions.44 Reliance on sepoys was encouraged by the impact of disease, which hit British operations near Pondicherry in the summer of 1760: ‘the then approaching season made it absolutely necessary, as the Europeans in general suffer greatly by the excessive heat of the weather . . . but notwithstanding all possible precautions the army has sustained great loss by sickness.’45 Yet, there was also the dispatch of regular troops from the British army. Troops and cannon sent in 1755 helped lead to victory in Bengal. In the face of the arrival of French reinforcements in 1757 and 1758, and of a French revival in southern India, fresh reinforcements were sent in 1759 and 1760, and Eyre Coote’s account of his victory at Wandewash emphasized the value of the British artillery.46 At the same time, it is important not to see India, or North America, or Europe, or the West Indies as undifferentiated units. Geopolitics in part was an interaction between specific environmental contexts and the effectiveness of particular systems, whether, for example, of weapons or of logistics. In India, British-trained infantry proved more effective in operations on the Carnatic coast, near their base at Madras, and in the marshy Lower Ganges valley, near their base at Calcutta, than they were to be in conflict against the Marathas and Mysore in regions that favoured light cavalry. The latter was serious as it was necessary to operate beyond the security of coastal bases in order to raise and secure revenues and supplies, and so as to be able to attract, support and retain Indian allies such as Travancore. Moreover, India was differently exposed to British penetration and to French intervention, which was easier in the South. This was a matter of a powerful ally in the shape of Mysore, but also of the location of French bases. At the same time, this possibility challenged the British across India. In 1770, Lewis Grant wrote from Patna, the capital of Bihar: ‘It seems to gain credit daily with the people of this country that the French will make an attempt to get some footing in Asia . . . threaten us with a powerful fleet from Mauritius loaded with European troops.’47 There was also great variety elsewhere. The scale of Saint-Domingue (now Haiti) made it a very different target to Martinique and Guadeloupe. Ibid., pp. 39, 50, 63. President and Council at Madras to Court of Directors of East India Company, 31 July 1760, BL. IO. H/Misc./96, p. 56. 46 Coote’s report, 13 Feb. 1760, BL. IO. H/Misc./95, pp. 552–5. 47 NAS. GD. 248/50/1/10. 44 45

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In Europe, the logistical challenge of supporting an expeditionary force in Portugal was far greater than in Germany; as the British were to discover in 1762. Much of the British public discussion of geopolitics failed to allow for these complexities. In Continental Europe, the British did not add recruits to their own units, but, instead, subsidized allied forces who deployed their troops accordingly. The nature of the relationship, and, sometimes, the military value, could vary greatly, but some of these forces, notably those from Hesse-Cassel, were of very high quality.48 They also provided a major link between the British effort in successive conflicts. The deployment of such units also charted the contrasting requirements of British geopolitics. In the War of the Austrian Succession and the Seven Years’ War, the Hessians had been part of British armies on the European Continent, but in the War of American Independence they were a prominent part of the army in North America. The Jacobite crisis of 1745–6 had led to the deployment of the Hessians in Britain, but, in 1778–83, the equivalent ‘Home Front’ was in part in America, with that in Britain left as the responsibility of national forces, principally militia. A more protracted invasion crisis had the French fleet not been decisively defeated in 1759 might have led in the same direction during the Seven Years’ War. Indeed, that year ministers were well aware of the need to arm against invasion plans that the French were unable to keep secret.49 As so often, a single explanation for a mixed military system, for example to leave manpower free for the navy, or to draw on less expensive foreign labour, is flawed. Instead, this practice was designed not only to raise manpower but also both to anchor alliances, in Europe as in India, and to ensure that British strategic goals and operational ends were important to allies. In turn, these ends, including raising troops, helped direct the nature of wartime foreign policy, and, more particularly, diplomacy, because much of the British representation was directed to pursuing their understanding of alliances; and in a context in which the other party, most obviously Frederick the Great, had different pressures, goals and ends. If these factors in raising troops helped determine much of the details of diplomacy with wartime allies, it was of far wider relevance for it also affected the pursuit of peacetime alliances, as well as their failure. Indeed, much of foreign policy in Europe can be approached in this context, with allies, neutrals and opponents categorized accordingly. Further to that, the issue of raising troops through subsidies very much affected the public debates over foreign policy and strategy, because each acquired greater force from the resonant political charge that Britain’s allies

R. Atwood, The Hessians. Mercenaries from Hessen-Kassel in the American Revolution (Cambridge, 1980). 49 Newcastle to Rockingham, 2 Aug. 1759, WW R1–139. 48

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were tricking her and that the ministry was negligently failing to stop this costly disaster. The force of the accusation was lessened by the government critique that domestic political opponents were weakening Britain, but opposition critics tended to have the more compelling lines, and notably so when freed, by Jacobite failure in 1746, of the weight of the charge that, whether deliberately or not, they were helping the Jacobites. Moreover, this criticism was part of the continuing legacy of the Opposition Whigs, although the criticism could be defused when these Whigs came into office, as when Pitt provided an explanation of sending troops to the Continent in 1758. The issue, however, then remained to the fore for the future George III, Bute and those who looked to them, which helped explain the political traction of attacks on the French coast, which were presented by Pitt’s supporters as a bridge between ‘blue water’ and ‘Continental’ strategies. The theme of betrayal by allies could be deflected from the Prussian alliance by focusing, instead, on the previous iniquities of Austria as an ally and differentiating the two on the basis of the Protestantism of Prussia.50 The Monitor of 15 September 1759 used the readily accessible form of ‘A Dialogue between an honest Tradesman, and a Political Dragon’ to advance these themes. Aside from religion as a theme, the notion of France as seeking ‘universal empire’,51 long a resonant idea, was advanced, and the idea of the world threatened ‘with slavery’52 was part of this mix. These arguments, however, did not make peace an easier pursuit or compromise a readier argument. Indeed, the Secretary to the Master General of the Ordnance commented in September 1759, ‘The present system is to persevere till you have reduced your natural enemy to your terms, let the expense be what it will.’53 A comparison with the New World is instructive as both in the Caribbean and in North America, the third of the continental landmasses where British power was engaged, there was a reliance on the local military labour market; but, in the shape of the colonists, this was a much more conditional market than in India or Continental Europe, difficult as they were. There was no inherent need for this because the British in the New World had access to alternative military labour sources. In the British Isles, the equivalents were Irish and Scots, and this potential helped explain anxiety about the intentions of the Stuart rulers in the 1640s and 1680s. However, the imposed British settlement of 1689–92, subsequently reinforced by the total defeat of the Jacobite risings of 1715 and 1745, had ended the possibility of such an outcome of a British-serviced autocracy dependent on Scottish and Irish soldiery; although that was an argument employed against Bute in the early

Monitor, 18 Aug. 1759. Monitor, 22 Sept. 1759. 52 John Murray, envoy to Venice, to Mitchell, 1 Aug. 1759, BL. Add. 6830 fol. 24. 53 Cox to Weston, 13 Sept. 1759, Farmington, Weston papers vol. 4. 50 51

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1760s, one, in turn, adopted by American colonists. The alternative in the New World was much more radical, namely a reliance on Native Americans and slaves. Raising the question of a potential earlier value that was neglected, the latter was to become important in the Caribbean from the 1790s; while, in North America, the British allied with (some) Native Americans throughout, and proved willing to turn to slaves during both the War of American Independence and the War of 1812. Moreover, the use of free blacks and/or slaves was seen with France, Spain and Portugal in the New World. The British reluctance to do so can be regarded as an aspect of conservatism, as well as of the complacency borne of victory in the Seven Years’ War, for Charles III of Spain, a classic ‘Enlightened Despot’, proved more flexible in this period. Again, however, it was politics as much as functionality that was to the fore. In this case, there was the hostility, in Britain and the colonies, to any accretion of royal power, and the particular concerns directed toward Native Americans and blacks; which provided, but far more strongly, a New World version to anti-Catholic and anti-Irish sentiments. In addition, the politics included the extent to which such measures would have to pass through Parliament in Britain. Aside from ideological factors and practicality, the costs of any measure would be an issue, and particularly so due to the need for post-war cost-cutting and thus demobilization, which encouraged a conservatism in the British approach to a military ‘modernization’ comparable to other elements of the conservatism of response in the period. The pressure on liquidity arising from wartime expenditure and borrowing, was a key element, and, linked to that, the problems arising from the broadening out of the recent war to include Spain which encouraged France in 1761 not to end the war. Pressures on liquidity were enhanced by the rising size of the national debt: from, in current prices in £ million, 79.26 in 1752 to 89.86 in 1762 and 118.29 million in 1782.54 Alongside the pressures of immediate expenditure in particular areas, this situation helped ensure that there was a wide-ranging fiscal marketplace underpinning British strength. Again, there were Indian, New World, and European dimensions as well as those of the British Isles, and each posed political issues. So also did the dimension of rivalry, with the determination to keep France weaker helping push particular fiscal, like military, strategies to the fore. Thus, the struggle for influence in the United Provinces was related to influence over its navy and colonies, but also to the direction of its investment, with periods of alignment with France linked to Dutch investment there.55

54 P.K. O’Brien and P.A. Hunt, ‘The rise of a fiscal state in England, 1485–1815’, Historical Research, 66 (1993), p. 175. 55 J.C. Riley, International Government Finance and the Amsterdam Capital Market 17401815 (Cambridge, 1980), pp. 95, 179–85.

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The theme of the military labour market and its fiscal counterpart will be pursued later in this book. The key element at this point is that the wartime exigencies of the 1750s developed the very flexibility that was central to the nature of British imperial power; but that this flexibility was conditioned by the political constraints summarized as strategic culture but also relating to the particular politics of specific conjunctures. The political-cultural dimension was an element of the geopolitics of Britain, a geopolitics that should not be understood in unvarying or monolithic terms. Indeed, it was the very tension within this flexibility of imperial power, and, more particularly, the difficulties of holding together constituencies of interest and opinion, that were to help undermine the achievements of these years. As Choiseul noted to the British diplomat Hans Stanley in August 1761, ‘it is not with enemies that one always has the most difficulties.56 He was thinking of allies, and indeed Britain was concerned about reports of Frederick negotiating with Paris,57 but the same point could be made about domestic elements. Thus, correctly noting the deficiencies of balance of power politics, especially their unreliability and cost, the Monitor on 5 April 1760 urged the implausible goal of so weakening France as that she should be unable to challenge Britain at sea, or her neighbours on land, a theme that was repeated on 21 and 28 June and 5 July. Anger with the position of former allies, notably Austria and the Dutch,58 greatly strengthened this disinclination to think of a collective system, a goal that increased the demands for success on the part of Britain. These demands were in turn increased when victories were won. Thus, the course of the struggle very much created its own dynamics. Had the war ended in 1758, or even the end of April 1760, then it would not have been anywhere near as successful for the British. The interconnectedness of the conflict was also differently significant at particular stages of the war. There was a systemic factor, in the shape of the combination of local and distant resources, the latter enhanced by the establishment of storage points in the shape of garrisons from which troops could be obtained. Both the ability to move forces long distances and the availability of local support improved the confidence of British military planning. No other state in the world could match this capability: none had such a military system, and therefore none could share these goals. Yet, the interconnectedness of British power had to be secure and brought to fruition, notably by ensuring naval predominance and success in European water, especially in the shape of blockade. That of Brest made it hard for France to send substantial reinforcements to their colonies or to maintain important trade links within them. As a result, the French imperial system was seriously weakened before the British captured the colonies.

Stanley to Pitt, 22 Aug. 1761, NA. SP. 78/252. Bristol to Pitt, 16 June 1760, NA. SP. 94/161. 58 Royal Magazine (July 1760), pp. 39–40; Monitor 2, 9, 16 Aug. 1760. 56 57

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Trans-Atlantic communications enabled Britain to deploy more troops against Canada than the French had present, 24,000 regulars and 22,500 provincial troops in 1758 compared to 24,500 French. The size of the respective forces was not the sole determinant of success. The Canadian militia was very good and had more experience in wilderness warfare than their New England opponents, the large British armies faced logistical problems, and in the operations near Québec in 1759–60, and on Martinique in 1760, it was not numbers alone that were at issue. Nevertheless, the exceptionally large resources devoted to the struggle in Canada by the British in 1758–60 stacked the odds. Each gain, moreover, proved the basis for another. In 1762, the security of the British position in the Carnatic meant that a force could be sent from Madras (Chennai) in order to capture Manila, while French Caribbean colonies fell to British troops sent from North America and not distant Britain. Moreover, whereas the French force that temporarily captured St John’s, Newfoundland that year had to come from France, the British force that drove it out came from North America. The cumulative nature of British imperial strength was readily apparent.

CHAPTER FOUR

Winning a Peace, 1761–3 The Cherokee War brought up the militarized nature of empire at its edge, but while important to the colonies concerned, it understandably barely registered in London, for there the strategy and politics of the war with France were to the fore. Victory over France, followed by the prospect of gains at the expense of Spain in 1762, led in Britain to hopes of a recasting of the international system, as well as to a premonition that that might be taking place. These are easy to put to one side in order to focus on the only limited war with Spain that was to occur and the compromise peace that was to follow. However, these suggestions of a different order are of interest because they underline the contemporary sense of uncertainty that was important to post-war British (and foreign) plans for regeneration, plans that were to lead Britain to crisis with its American colonies. Moreover, any notion that the idea of radical change had to await ideological and political revolution is contradicted by the reflections of the period. British newspapers were happy to suggest the prospect of trade with South America without Spanish intermediaries,1 while the prospect of the New World serving to transform the balance of power in the Old was held out at the very time that the rise of Russia suggested an alternative destiny for Europe. In April 1762, Buchet du Pavillon, a French economist, produced a memorandum for the French government arguing that the balance of power was increasingly determined by the Americas which, with more emigration, would become independent.2 There was also concern in Britain about the depopulating consequences of more conquests,3 fears that reflected anxieties about the size of the population that were in part fed by uncertainty as to this size.

Monitor, 3 Ap. 1762. Memoire by Buchet du Pavillon, 28 Ap. 1762, AE. MD. Ang. 56 fol. 14. 3 J. Molesworth to Bute, 8 Oct. 1761, George, Lord Melcombe, memoire, 10 July 1762, MS. 4/121, 2/93. 1 2

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It was not really surprising that the second attempt in our period to bridge the Old Corps-Opposition divide in politics and policy, that of George III, fell foul of the first, that of William Pitt the Elder which, indeed, was still then in place and, alongside growing ministerial criticism, enjoying considerable public traction. The tension between these two attempts at bridging, indeed, set the political context for debates and differences over foreign policy and strategy in the years 1760–3, for the manoeuvring stemming from the accession of George in late 1760 served to accentuate disagreement rather than allow politics to proceed alongside, or by means of, nuances. Although George’s freedom of manoeuvre was restricted by war, as his grandfather’s had been in 1744 and 1746, he was able to dispense with the ‘Old Whigs’ and turn to his favourite where George II had failed. The ‘Old Whigs’ were suffering seriously from poor leadership: Henry Pelham had died in 1754, Hardwicke and Newcastle were old and tired, and the new generation of ‘Old Whig’ leaders was weak and unimpressive. The prime political issue was how to end the war, because all major international conflicts in Europe ended with a compromise. It was necessary to assess how best to arrive at one, in terms of setting acceptable terms within the ministry, negotiating them with the opposing powers, and then selling them to the domestic audience as well as to international allies. Each of these was formidably difficult as goal and task, and the experience of the ‘Year of Victories’ in 1759 made it worse, for it accustomed everyone in Britain to success and made compromise appear a betrayal and also made it easy to suggest that that was the consequence of the new monarch and his ministers. As so often, the legacy of recent history was also important. In particular, the previous peace treaty with France and Spain, that of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, had been denounced as a sell-out, notably because of the return of captured Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island, but also due to the manner of making the peace. The determination to avoid a recurrence was a political incubus, one that was made worse because of the unexpected course of 1760–1. While the fall of Québec in 1759 was followed, after a French revival, by the capture of Montreal in 1760, there was not, that year, a sequence of success to match that of 1759; and this was the case both in Europe and the Caribbean. In India, the British wrecked French power, defeated them at Wandewash on 22 January 1760 and captured Pondicherry, the major base, on 16 January 1761; but these successes had less of a resonance in Britain even though they were very important to the attitude of local rulers and their subjects. Furthermore, far from France accepting terms as Britain wanted, these talks failed and, instead, Spain joined the French camp, which was the sole means left for France to prevail. Anglo-Spanish relations were embittered by a number of disputes, including that over the Mosquito Coast whence logwood was exported, which was an aspect of the long-standing Spanish concern over breaches of their commercial and territorial position in the Caribbean. However, again as a reminder of the significance of European

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affairs, Spain’s alliance with France was the key element in leading to war, and the crucial Spanish move was against Portugal, a crucial commercial partner for Britain. This made the situation far more difficult for Britain. In large part, this was due to pragmatic considerations. Spain threatened Portugal with invasion, gave depth to the remaining French bases in the Caribbean, and added to the naval challenge facing Britain. There were, however, also more subtle political problems involved in war with Spain, and these were significant because ‘real problems’ could not be considered separately from these assessments. First, war with Spain touched on the political memory of Elizabethan victory, and notably so as refracted through the pressure in the late 1730s for war with Spain and the later critique of failure in 1740–2 to repeat the Elizabethan success. As with the criticism of the 1748 peace, the back history of figures active in the early 1760s was involved. Pitt had been a prominent supporter in the late 1730s of war with Spain. British commentators welcomed the new war, the London Evening Post of 2 January 1762 declaring ‘it will in a little time bring us in large quantities of dollars’, and there was unwonted optimism about the prospects, the Monitor announcing on 1 May 1762: ‘A war with Spain is purely maritime. She must submit to the power which commands the ocean. Her strength depends upon her American treasure; and her American colonies are at the mercy of the sovereigns of the seas.’ Secondly, apart from the assumption of success, the need to continue the war posed a burden with financial considerations playing a larger role than hitherto in the correspondence of all ministers. Thirdly, the need to continue the war greatly complicated the negotiation of a peace, not least adding a new set of expectations and posing the problem of prioritization in terms of the contrasting requirements focusable on peace with France or Spain, and the related trade-offs. If these issues were not bad enough, the resignation of Pitt from the ministry over the question of war with Spain accentuated the political difficulties of the situation, both ministerial and public, and forced the viewing of problems and choices from an even more difficult political perspective. That was the background to the curious disjuncture of 1762–3. Referring to John, 4th Duke of Bedford’s motion against the Continental commitment, Andrew Mitchell wrote in February 1762: ‘I cannot help wondering that His Grace should have persisted to make that motion, I may say in despite of Providence, which has so miraculously . . . changed the face of affairs upon the Continent.’4 On the one hand, success certainly was readily apparent. The French plan for a joint Franco-Spanish invasion of Ireland5 did not get off the ground, and press warnings of a possible invasion of England6 lacked credibility.

Mitchell to Weston, 27 Feb. 1762, Farmington, Weston papers, vol. 5. Choiseul to Ossun, 5 Ap. 1762, AE. CP. Esp. 536 fol. 25. 6 London Chronicle, 18 Mar., 13, 20 Ap. 1762. 4 5

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The British defeat of Spain in 1762 was more impressive than similar victories over Spain in any year other than that of the Armada in 1588. Moreover, the contrast with the total British failure at Cartagena in 1741 was striking. At the same time, Britain also made significant gains from France in the West Indies, the capture of Martinique, Grenada, St Lucia and St Vincent, which led a sceptical Horace Walpole to remark: ‘I think we were full as happy when we were a peaceable quiet set of tradesfolks, as now we are heirs apparent to the Romans.’7 Francesco, Count Viry, the Sardinian envoy, however, reported that the court and the public did not show the same joy that they had done earlier when obtaining even small advantages over France.8 The French were left in the Caribbean with only Saint-Domingue and Louisiana, far larger targets which were not attacked. The British, instead, then moved on against Havana. The contrast with 1741 marked the growing sophistication of the British in the joint operations that had been continuous practice since 1757. A force of 12,000 troops, much of which had left Spithead on 6 March, landed at Cojimar, to the east of Havana, on 7 June, covered by twenty-two ships of the line, a formidable fleet. Operations were concentrated against Morro Castle which commanded the channel from the sea to the harbour of Havana, was protected by a very deep landward ditch, and is still an impressive site. On 1 July, the British batteries opened fire, supported by three warships, but damage from Spanish fire forced the latter to abandon the bombardment. The summer passed in siegeworks, which were hindered by the bare rock in front of the fortress, and in artillery duels. A third of the British force was lost to malaria and yellow fever (which also hit the defenders), but the Spanish batteries were silenced by heavier British fire. On 30 July, the British exploded two mines on either side of the ditch, creating an earth ramp across it and a breach in the wall, both still clearly visible. Having stormed the breach, the British captured the fort, from where cannon could dominate the city, which surrendered on 13 August. The Spanish fleet in the harbour, which included twelve ships of the line, also surrendered: by attacking Havana, the British had wrecked Spanish naval power in the Caribbean and captured Cuba, for the seizure of major bases was sufficient to cause the collapse of imperial control. The news was received in Britain with joy, the Salisbury Journal on 4 October 1762 reporting that the news arrived during a choral concert in the annual music festival: to shouts of applause, the choir at once burst into the song ‘Britons, strike home’. There was optimism about pressing on to make more gains, but the government wanted peace, and was also aware of practicalities, Philip, 1st Earl of Hardwicke, a confidant of Newcastle, pointing out that, although Britain could stop the Spanish treasure fleet, it could not conquer Mexico.

7 8

Horace Walpole to Horace Mann, 22 Mar. 1762, Walpole-Mann correspondence, VI, 16. Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 12 Mar. 1762, AST. LM. Ing. 67.

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On the other hand, alongside a rejection of the French and Austrian negotiating positions as unacceptable,9 there was a degree of war-weariness by 1760 and, even more, 1762, one that Pitt with his reiterated criticisms did not really appreciate. On 12 May, he accompanied his affirmation of the value of interventionism in the Commons, and of fighting on against the Bourbons, with a restatement of the view of Parliament as a grand council: When I give my advice to the House I consider myself as giving my advice to the Crown. . . . The Continental Plan is the only plan otherwise all Europe will be interdicted by these haughty oppressions of the House of Bourbon from receiving you whom they affect to treat as an overgrown pirate from their ports. I am convinced this country can raise 12, 13, 14 or even 16 million the next year: I know it without seeking information from bundles of papers and accounts. . . . The only question is whether grievous and permanent as that tax must be, it is not to be preferred to the perpetual dishonour of the nation, the aggrandisement of the enemy, the desertion of your allies, all which tend to an inglorious and precarious peace. . . . Think of your greatness in every part of the world.10 However, the economic and fiscal burdens of the war were increasingly serious. Already, in August 1759, Newcastle, in the face of ‘these immense expenses’, was writing in his own hand to sound influential parliamentarians such as Sir Rowland Winn, on their views about the desirability of peace.11 Newcastle saw George II as wanting to fight on for the sake of gains for Hanover while the ministers wanted peace.12 A separate approach in 1762, that of Hardwicke – that ‘having pursued perhaps too violent a system, we should come to have no system at all’13 – lacked traction, not least in ministerial circles as Newcastle was concerned about the financial implications of the Prussian subsidy on a precarious public credit.14 He sought to tread a middle way, retaining links with Bute while opposing both Pitt on one side and other ministers keen to abandon Germany, notably George Grenville, on the other.15 However, the dynamics of politics and the need to prepare peace made this impossible. In addition, press and political attacks on the government

9 Minutes of meeting of Privy Council, 18 Mar. 1762, HL. STG Box 14(43); Newcastle to Yorke, 19 Mar. 1762, BL. Add. 32935 fol. 478. 10 James West MP, report on parliamentary proceedings, 12 May 1762, BL. Add. 32938 fols 186–8. See also, H. Walpole, Memoirs of the Reign of King George III ed. D. Jarrett (4 vols., New Haven, Conn., 2000), I, 105–7. 11 Newcastle to Rockingham, 2 Aug. 1759, WW R1–139. 12 Newcastle to Hardwicke, 1 Sept. 1759, BL. Add. 35418 fol. 246. 13 Hardwicke to Newcastle, 25 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 32935 fols 76–7. 14 Newcastle to Hardwicke, 25 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 35421 fols 200–1. 15 Newcastle to Hardwicke, 8 Mar. 1762, BL. Add. 32935 fols 250–1.

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for abandoning the ‘Protestant Hero’, Frederick the Great, including Pitt’s encomium to Frederick in his speech to the Commons on the Peace Preliminaries, did not meld easily with the longstanding critique of Continental interventionism, a critique that was reiterated in the press.16 The opportunistic and sometimes duplicitous Frederick himself had given good cause for British policy and by 1762 there was a concern that he would exploit the accession of Peter III in Russia to continue the war to his benefit, as well as the fear that he ‘loves war too much’.17 The lack of trust in Frederick was a key element in the British ministers deciding to stop the subsidy.18 The abandonment helped produce a public debate with powerful cross-currents, one that matched the disagreements within the government.19 The disjuncture of 1762–3 can be seen in the response to peace. Wartime successes were taken forward to the Peace of Paris of 1763 as that led to the best terms gained by Britain at the end of a war. Gains were far more extensive than in 1713 or 1748 and were understood as such. The British, in exchange for returning conquered Cuba to Spain, received unconquered Florida, which was extended, at the expense of Louisiana, as far as the Mississippi, creating, for the British, the separate colonies of East Florida and West Florida; the latter being the modern ‘Panhandle’ of Florida extended from the Apalachicola River over to the Mississippi. As a result, Fort Condé in Mobile was renamed Fort Charlotte in honour of George III’s new wife. The right to cut wood in Belize was also gained from Spain. The British, in turn, returned their conquests of Guadeloupe, Martinique and St Lucia to France, the return of St Lucia being criticized by Hardwicke in the Lords; but kept Dominica, Grenada, St Vincent and Tobago (none leading sugar-producing colonies), Fort Royal on Grenada being renamed Fort George. In exchange for responding to French pressure for peace, including accepting the return of Minorca to Britain (captured from the latter in 1756), Spain, under an agreement of 1762, received from France the rest of Louisiana which was seen by the French government as a costly encumbrance. There was a sense of ambitious new opportunities, as in the Briton, a prominent London newspaper, on 27 November 1762: the possession of Senegal opens us an avenue to the inland parts of Africa, to regions hitherto unexplored by European merchants, abounding with gold, ivory and . . . in all probability with many other rich sources of commerce which industry and adventure will discover.

London Evening Post, 2 Dec., Briton, 4 Dec. 1762. Mitchell to Keith, 2 Ap. 1762, BL. Add. 35484 fol. 183. 18 Newcastle [who wanted to continue the subsidy] to Yorke, 9 Ap. 1762, BL. Add. 32936 fol. 449. 19 K.W. Schweizer, ‘The Bedford Motion and House of Lords Debate 5 February 1762’, Parliamentary History, 5 (1986), pp. 107–23. 16 17

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The paper also offered a sense of strategic gains, as in the issue of 11 December: the possession of St Augustine [capital of East Florida] stops an ugly gap in our southern colonies, prevents the desertion of our negro slaves, and by the help of row galleys . . . enables us in a great measure to command the channel of the gulph through which every Spanish ship must pass from the Havana in her return to Europe. Yet, there was also a strong sense of doubt about achievement, one focused in press criticism and political hostility, as well as being more widely present. Aside from anger about the terms there was the prospect of unemployment in war-related industries. The Oxford Journal of 26 March 1763 noted of the proclamation of peace in London: ‘But it was observed that there was scarce any bell-ringing; nor did the populace express their approbation; for they with-held their usual huzzaings.’ This doubt about the Peace was to play a major role in political controversy in 1762–3, although the rival themes of an onerous war and a sell-out peace had already been deployed earlier, as, indeed, it was a key element of the discussion of every peace. The Whigs had weaponized the issue of the 1713 Peace of Utrecht against the Tories, but had succeeded in deflecting that of 1748, in part due to the wise decision to hold the general election a year earlier. The parallel for 1762–3 in terms of success was 1713 rather than 1748, although the different nature of the party system helped ensure a very different resonance to the two victorious peaces. So also with the location in terms of dynastic politics. The Hanoverian rulers were not associated with the Utrecht settlement; and its condemnation provided a way to criticize the old order, that of the Tory ministry of Anne’s last years. In contrast, there was no such distancing in the case of George III. Indeed, criticism of the Peace of Paris went into being a charge directed against the king, one that could be further maintained because of the (inaccurate) claim that Bute continued secretly to direct policy after he had left office in 1763. Furthermore, it was easier to grasp the criticism of these terms than the former charges directed against the Hanoverian ambitions of George I and George II; while this criticism was repeatedly to be kept to the fore by postwar transoceanic disputes with France and Spain. Alongside criticism, the Peace passed through Parliament with a large majority, and there was no equivalent to the major difficulties over Utrecht, difficulties that blocked the Anglo-French commercial treaty that was part of the settlement and that was in part intended to help ground it. Both in Britain and in the New World colonies, there was a positive response to the close of the conflict and for some a sense of celebration. Focus on the criticism in 1762–3 can lead to an underplaying of the ease with which the treaty went through Parliament and, due to a shift toward domestic issues, did not subsequently play a key role in the criticism of the king or his

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ministers. Indeed, just as the Whigs, once in office, had maintained the Anglo-French alliance, which lasted until 1731, so the ministries that successively followed Bute in 1763 sustained that peace settlement and did not use the opportunity of a series of disputes with France and Spain in order to overturn the peace. More specifically, the absence, unlike in 1713 and 1786, of a contentious commercial agreement with France helped to reduce political tension over the issue. In addition, the geopolitics of the Peace of Paris requires consideration. Foreign policy and strategy both played a major role in the terms, which represented a transfer from the geopolitics of war to those of peace. The former had enabled Britain to pursue what became a full-spectrum commitment, and eventually to achieve success accordingly. In the peace, however, there was the question of Canada or of Caribbean gains, a debate that was to be followed by the French.20 This, in part, was a falsely posed question, as the peace was a three-way process with France and Spain each also having agency, an element missing in most of the British discussion. At the same time, the cross-currents in Britain were clearly seen, with the West Indies’ interest opposed to the acquisition of Guadeloupe and Martinique from France as that would greatly increase competition within the British protectionist system. The return of these islands was controversial in Britain, the St James’s Chronicle of 27 September 1764, discussing whether Britain should have continued the Seven Years’ War in order to retain them, commented: ‘even our tinkers and cobblers are politicians and the first to roar’.21 The Monitor of 6 September 1760 had wanted the gain of Louisiana in exchange for the return of Guadeloupe. In part, by their not being islands run by Britain, the return lessened competition in sugar production within the British empire, and there was also much support in Britain for the retention, in contrast, of the conquest of Canada. Similarly, Jamaica had been worried about competition from a conquered Cuba. As wars usually ended with a compromise peace, Canada and Guadeloupe/ Martinique were treated as alternatives. There was no comparable American reluctance to gain Canada, which offered no economic competition. Instead, concern about earlier French links with Native Americans encouraged the wish to gain Canada. Moreover, the similar potential challenge posed by the French in Louisiana was lessened by it being transferred to Spain, a transfer that matched its very limited economic or strategic benefit to France. In France, the loss of Louisiana was criticized in mercantile circles in the Atlantic ports, but had only limited impact elsewhere, due to the lack of élite commitment to the colony, and regaining Guadeloupe and Martinique was regarded as more important.

Anon. commenting on London Chronicle of 9 Dec. 1763, AN B7 421. For the French government’s acquisition of British pamphlets see eg. AE. CP. Ang. 461 fols 333–99. 21 Contrast, 20 July 1763. 20

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At the same time, the geopolitics of British imperial power were such that the transformed situation in North America did not really emerge from the political or military traction enjoyed by the colonists there. While considerable, this political traction was less than that wielded in London by either the East India Company or the West Indies interests. This contrast, later to be mostly clearly seen in the economic and fiscal background to the Boston Tea Party, was to be a major source of instability in British imperial geopolitics. Yet that phrase carries with it the implication that there was a perfect state or, at least, one that can be referred to as stable. In practice, this was, and is, a highly questionable proposition. In the particular case of the Thirteen Colonies, not of course yet a unit, there was a diversity in circumstances, and variety in interests, that makes the idea of a unified interest or negotiating partner implausible, and there was certainly nothing to match the dependence on sugar and slaves of the West Indies, nor the institutional cohesion provided by the East India Company. Instead, cohesion in North America was to be provided by British governmental policies that in large part were an attempt to stabilize the new peace, notably provisions for imperial finance, and relations with Native Americans and French Canadians in the newly-acquired lands. There would have been similar issues over Catholicism had Guadeloupe and Martinique been gained instead, just as there had been with Minorca after it was conquered from Spain in 1708 and ceded under the Peace of Utrecht of 1713. However, in the West Indies, and largely, although not solely, due to the need for state support in the face of the prospect of slave risings, there was a greater tolerance by the settlers of the governing arrangements put in place when colonies changed hands between Britain and France. The difference in the case of the Thirteen Colonies was in part a matter of the drive for land by those committed to a landward expansion, and in part the need to think through governmental arrangements in a new situation. Again, that was not necessarily a cause of disorder. Indeed, by 1770, the gravest responses in North America to the new post-war order were Pontiac’s War (1763–6) in the case of Native Americans, a conflict in which initially they did well against British forces, and Louisiana’s attempt in 1768 to return from Spanish to French rule; both of which were unsuccessful. In contrast, the tensions in the Thirteen Colonies over new British governmental regulations, notably the Stamp Act of 1765, while serious, were less complete than those episodes as a rejection of the new order. Nevertheless, related to, but not identical with, the issue of imperial control was the question of what comprised imperial value, and in the context of the views of ‘a nation of arm-chair Patriots’.22 The value of control over territory itself, as opposed to territory plus trade, was not a

22 E. Gould, The Persistence of Empire. British Political Culture in the Age of the American Revolution (Chapel Hill, NC, 2000).

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novel issue, but it came more to the fore, as did the very value of imperial rule. These questions, moreover, were linked by some to discussion of the nature of international relations and the best way to secure peace, which was a topic throughout the period under discussion and in Britain as well as in France.23 Thus, Elizabeth Montagu wrote to her husband in 1760: We often accuse the French of aiming at universal monarchy by endeavouring to extend their dominions, other powers may fear we should effect the same thing by extending our commerce, and in the present state of the world general commerce must give greatest power and strength. It seems to me a far more sure and lasting means of empire and superior rule, than extent of territory. Great tracts of country at distance from the seat of government, grow of little worth by the oppression of viceroys and deputies. Then, in language that would have been applauded in the 1780s by Shelburne, Pitt the Younger, Adam Smith and the French Foreign Minister, Vergennes, she argued: ‘mutual advantages are better securities than citadels and garrisons, and the unarmed merchantmen may enter safely into harbours where the unwelcome ship of war would meet with many dangers’. Later on, she referred to Harrison’s chronometer, which was being used in successful tests to ascertain how best to measure longitude and thus improve navigation: I imagine the French themselves would have been sorry if they had destroyed this fine instrument, for the realms of science, and the acquisition of invention are open to all, and they will share with us the improvements of navigation and the ascertainment of geography.24 Ultimately, this approach rested on bilateral trust, but, as such, shared the flaw of its apparent alternatives, that of a collective security system designed to trammel an apparent aggressor. In practice, the two were also linked, as the latter could be seen as the best context for a relationship between former opponents. Each, however, was also a strategy that was somewhat vulnerable in its operational means, and, to critics, in its very strategic rationale; but so also was the alternative view of bilateral relations, both war and peace, as ceaseless struggle. Both in the early 1760s, as the Seven Years’ War drew to a close, and in the early 1780s, as the War of American Independence followed, there was a utopian quality to what can be seen as an attempt by certain commentators,

23 E. Dziembowski, Un nouveau patriotism française, 1750–1770, La France face à la puissance anglaise à l’époque de la guerre de Sept Ans (Oxford, 1998). 24 Elizabeth to Edward Montagu, ? July 1760, HL. MO. 2381.

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even in the early 1780s ministers, to apply what would later be regarded as Enlightenment principles. However, in practice, the ideas deployed drew on a variety of factors, ranging from war-weariness to the degree to which, in 1739–83, peace simply appeared to be an interlude before another war. It was just as well that Elizabeth Montagu could not read French ministerial correspondence with its talk of the need to rearm and to prepare to destroy Britain within thirty years as the Spaniards had with the Moors,25 another instance of the widespread use of history. The wish to create a system was common to the desire for peace, as well, in the shape of alliances, that for preparation for renewed war. This wish can be presented as ‘modern’, as it was by the historian William Robertson in his History of the Reign of Emperor Charles V, with a View of the Progress of Society in Europe . . . (1769) when discussing how the Italian Wars of 1494– 1559 had begun a new multipolar international system, a theme also to be taken up in the House of Commons by Edmund Burke with regard to standing armies.26 At the same time, other themes were at play, as with the anonymous essay in the July 1760 issue of the Royal Magazine that urged Christian unity and driving the Turks from Europe. Indeed, the modern tendency to secularize international relations risks misunderstanding an aspect of the climate of opinion of an age that was that of the ‘Great Awakening’, with Britain putting John Wesley to the fore. It is all too easy to cite the Monitor without noting that it often referred to the threat that Austria and France posed of ‘extirpating’ Protestantism, as well as to the supportive (for Britain) working of Providence and ‘the will of the supreme disposer of all things’.27 On 3 April 1762, the paper thought the conquest of Martinique ‘a peculiar mark of Providence’ that indicated the ‘course of Providence’ in the Caribbean. This was a language that the pious George III could readily appreciate, and one that diplomats such as Joseph Yorke were ready to voice in their private correspondence. And not only them. Elizabeth Montagu feared the Jesuits would move ‘Earth and Hell’ to further Spanish ends in Portugal.28 Yet, at the same time, policy was a composite reflecting a range of pressures; which can make it highly problematic to cite simply some sources and to pursue simply one account. Alongside the discussion above, comes Charles, 2nd Marquess of Rockingham, Lord Lieutenant both of the West Riding of Yorkshire and of the city of York, and a major figure in ‘Old Corps’ Whig politics, explaining in 1760 a Yorkshire view that the war was

Choiseul to Ossun, 5 Ap. 1762, AE. CP. Esp. 536 fol. 32. W. Robertson, History of the Reign of the Emperor Charles V, with a View of the Progress of Society in Europe (4 vols, London, 1769); Cobbett XVII, 500–1. 27 Eg. Monitor, 2, 16 Aug. 1760. 28 Yorke to Weston, 30 Mar. 1762, BL. Add. 58213 fol. 88; Elizabeth to Edward Montagu, 11 Sept. 1760, HL. MO. 2394. 25 26

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carried on ‘for the benefit of our cloth trade’,29 or Pitt’s determination to restrict Bourbon access to the Newfoundland cod fisheries, which were seen in Britain and France as a key way to train sailors.30 The range of factors at play in the early 1760s in the domestic discussion of peace sat alongside the diplomatic attempts to obtain a settlement that would leave Britain both best placed for the post-war world and with the support of allies. This situation became more complex when it moved with Spain from also trying to keep her out of the war to deciding how best to address wartime issues as well as the post-war situation. That dimension tends to be underplayed because much of the debate over British policy in the 1760s and 1770s concerns the lack of a post-war alliance with Prussia, Austria and Russia. Given Spain’s naval and colonial position, and its ability to help France accordingly, this is a mistaken emphasis; and, again, comparison raises instructive issues. The Second (Bourbon) Family Compact of 1743 had not prevented better Anglo-Spanish relations after the end of war in 1748, but there was to be no comparison in 1763. Nor, despite an awareness of Austro-Spanish tensions in Italy, was there any real prospect of using Austria to put pressure on Spain, a possibility that was raised in the early 1760s. Thus, in negotiating the peace in 1762–3, Britain faced the difference and problem that the opposing alliance remained more cohesive than in 1747–8 and 1782–3. Yet, that was primarily an issue for post-war strategy, for, in 1762, even while the war broadened to include Spain, it was war-weariness that was to the fore. Newspapers calling for eternal vigilance toward the Bourbons, especially France, did not match a king and ministry who correctly sensed a widespread wish to end war and to shy away from fresh Continental intervention.

29 30

Rockingham to Newcastle, 16 Oct. 1760, BL. Add. 32913 fols 85–6. Viry to Charles Emmanuel II, 19 Aug. 1760, AST. LM. Ing. 65.

CHAPTER FIVE

A Post-war Order? 1763–70 George III found it difficult to establish and sustain a stable ministry. When in office, as First Lord of the Treasury in 1762–3, his favourite, Bute proved a broken reed, better with abstract ideas than with the realities of political management; and the unpopularity of the minister cast a dark shadow over the public reputation of the monarch. In turn, George Grenville, unlike Bute an experienced parliamentarian, who was a conscientious First Lord of the Treasury in 1763–5, had poor relations with the king whom he was prone to hector.1 Neither man managed the clash in their natures well. However disagreeable personally, the ministry was pursuing policies dear to George, especially peace and fiscal stability, and Grenville was a competent minister and administrator. The Peace of Paris had brought neither domestic nor international harmony. While differences at home were most apparent in 1762–3, the international sphere saw continuing tension. Pressing John, 2nd Earl of Buckinghamshire to accept Russian terms for an alliance, the Russian ViceChancellor told him in September 1763 that ‘England from the present situation of affairs was much more likely to be engaged in a war than this country’,2 a response designed to drive up the cost of Russian support, but misleading due to the Polish crisis of that year. As with earlier peace treaties, although George III sought to ease relations,3 tension between Britain and the Bourbons rapidly began over the implementation of the Peace, tension that both increased criticism of the latter and led to an apparent need for Continental allies. Already, in August 1763, Peter Morin, an Assistant Under-Secretary, had observed, ‘I can see we do not agree about Dunkirk, and I fancy there has been some squabble at

For another critical view, D’Eon to Praslin, 24 Ap. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 450 fol. 311. Buckinghamshire to Halifax, 13 Sept. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fol. 132. For British concern about Russian ‘coldness’, Halifax to Buckinghamshire, 20 May 1763, NA. SP. 91/71 fol. 225. 3 D’Eon to Praslin, 20 July, Guerchy to Praslin, 12 Nov. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 450 fol. 496, 452 fol. 128. 1 2

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Newfoundland.’4 The experienced Sardinian envoy told his new French counterpart that parliamentary opposition to the government would increase if France took provocative steps,5 a situation made more apparent because George’s speech at the start of the session had commented on Bourbon assurances of a wish to continue peace.6 The habit of outlining connections between domestic and international relations was indeed widespread. Thus, drawing attention on 10 November 1763 to the number of Britons in receipt of money from Irish revenues, the Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser argued that unless this was stopped, ‘B--n may be more effectually conquered in Ireland, than America was in Germany.’ Post-war tension with the Bourbons was different from that after 1783, as the terms then were seen to rest on failure, but there was a comparable call in each case for allies. Moreover, in both Britain and France in each case, it was assumed that these peaces would not last. Indeed, Choiseul had begun considering a future war with Britain even before the close of the Seven Years’ War and, in April 1763, the French began to gather information that might help in an invasion, which, ironically, was a theme in the Royal Magazine the following month. The London Chronicle warned on 1 January 1763 that, due to the nature of its government, France was better able than Britain to prepare for another war. For Choiseul, naval reconstruction and diplomacy were both aspects of his preparations for a war of revenge,7 preparations that included plans for an invasion.8 There was no comparison to the attempts made to improve relations after the Treaty of Ryswick of 1697, the Peace of Utrecht of 1713, and, to a lesser extent, that of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748. British newspapers were soon reporting on French naval preparations,9 and it was the focus of British espionage,10 while, in turn, the French spied on British naval moves, including by means of an agent in the Admiralty.11 The press also commented

Morin to Edward Weston, 16 Aug. 1763, WU; Elizabeth Montagu to Bath, 19 Oct. 1763, HL. MO. 4590. 5 Guerchy to Praslin, 23 Oct. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 451 fols 459–60. 6 Cobbett, XV, 1334. 7 M.C. Morison, ‘The Duc de Choiseul and the Invasion of England, 1764–1770’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 3rd ser., 4 (1910), pp. 83–115; R.E. Abarca, ‘Classical Diplomacy and Bourbon “revanche” Strategy, 1763–1770’, Review of Politics, 32 (1970), pp. 313–37; H.M. Scott, ‘The Importance of Bourbon Naval Reconstruction to the Strategy of Choiseul after the Seven Years’ War’, International History Review, 1 (1979), pp. 17–35; M.M. Escott, Britain’s Relations with France and Spain, 1763–1771 (PhD., thesis, University of Wales, 1988). 8 For plans from another part of the French foreign policy world, S. Das, De Broglie’s Armada: A Plan for the Invasion of England, 1765–1777 (Lanham, MD., 2009); J. Dull, The French Navy and American Independence (Princeton, NJ, 1974). 9 St James’s Chronicle, 28 July, The Contrast, 31 Aug. 1763. 10 Wolters to Sandwich, 29 Nov. 1763, NA. SP. 84/503; Halifax to Weston, 2 Jan. 1764, BL. Add. 57927 fol. 133. 11 Guerchy to Praslin, 21 Feb. 1764, AE. CP. Ang. 455 fol. 385. 4

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extensively on other issues such as the French failure to wreck the harbour at Dunkirk in compliance with the treaty, a longstanding issue in dispute,12 and more implausibly, the press was willing to blame Britain’s problems with Native Americans on French agitation.13 There were certainly disputes between the recent combatants. These tended to arise from the actions of local colonial and military officials whom it was frequently difficult to control from Europe, as with the dispute with France over Turks Island in 1764. The post-war 1760s also saw the development by the European powers of their colonies, as part of a deliberate imperial position so as best to cope with what was likely to be another war, with military and economic preparedness seen as linked. Thus, the British sought to chart the waters of the American coastline of the Caribbean in order to assess navigable routes; George Gauld doing so for the Admiralty from 1764 to 1781. There were also improvements to fortifications, with Fort Shirley begun by the British in 1765 to defend northern Dominica. The period also saw growing criticism of imperial rule by European settlers. In Britain’s Caribbean colonies, there was considerable opposition to the Stamp Act of 1765, notably on St Kitts and Nevis; although the trajectory of opposition did not match that in the Thirteen Colonies in North America that rebelled from 1775. It is always difficult to explain something that did not happen. Material factors in the shape of self-interest tend to come to the fore, and this would lead to an emphasis on the need by the settlers for imperial support in the face of the more numerous slaves, but ideological, cultural, social and religious elements, some of which were shaped by the slave economies, were also important, not least in the shape of the absence of a culture and society similar to that of New England.14 Instead, Caribbean white culture was more similar to that of the southern colonies in North America and, alongside opposition, loyalism was strong there. The attempt to raise revenue and improve governance seen in the British world with the Stamp Act was matched by Spanish policy under Charles III (r. 1759–88), who greatly favoured penínsulares as officials rather than criollos (creoles; in this case, American-born descendants of Spanish settlers). The fall of Havana in 1762 had come as a major shock and there was an attempt to increase defensive precautions, as on Puerto Rico, and strengthen the government accordingly, as with the dispatch of more troops for garrison duty, for example to Venezuela, and the raising of militia. In order to help the economy, restrictions on slave imports were lifted, and in Cuba the number of slaves approximately doubled between 1774 and 1792, with sugar and coffee production also growing rapidly as well as the development

St James’s Chronicle, 10 Jan. 1764. St James’s Chronicle, 2 Feb. 1762. 14 A.J. O’Shaughnessy, An Empire Divided: The American Revolution and the British Caribbean (Philadelphia, Penn., 2000). 12 13

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of snuff mills to process tobacco. To prevent a recurrence of the failure at British hands in 1762, large new fortresses to protect Havana were built: San Carlos de la Cabaña in 1763–74 and Castillo del Príncipe in 1767–79. At the same time as international tension, the European remedy that was wished for by British ministries in the 1760s ended up very differently to that sought after peace in 1748, the peace that was the point of reference for contemporaries.15 In 1765, looking back, Sir James Porter, envoy in Brussels and a veteran of Anglo-Austrian commercial negotiations (1739–45) and of the Constantinople (Istanbul) embassy (1747–62), wrote to another veteran of the days of George II, Andrew Mitchell, envoy in Berlin from 1756 to 1764 and 1766–71: ‘Lord Granville [Carteret] died [in 1763] with this political credo: “We must have some one great friend on the Continent,”’16 a credo that reflected his concern for the balance of power there and for Hanover, more than Atlantic interests. Porter, who wanted an Austrian alliance17 and had been the cause of Prussian complaints,18 endorsed this view, which was in accordance with intervention in the 1740s and early 1750s; but the direction, tone and urgency of public policy, all three interacting, were now very different. Considerable effort was devoted to diplomatic negotiations during the 1760s, more especially with Russia. Taking a bigger role in British foreign policy than it had done in the 1740s, it tended now to be seen as a substitute for the Dutch in the ‘Old System’, that of a Continental alliance system directed against France as developed by William III (r. 1689–1702) in terms of Austria, Britain and the Dutch. An alliance with Russia was presented as a force-enabler permitting both powers to ‘speak with dignity and weight to the several courts, with whom we may be concerned’, and as a foundation for a wider system.19 Separately, political logic, not least in the shape of defending the legacy of past positions, was particularly important in the interest, on the part of the Rockingham (1765–6) and Pitt (1766–8) ministries respectively, in alignment with Austria and Prussia. Indeed, the critique of the wartime alliance with Prussia associated with Pitt, while, in part, a criticism of interventionism, was also a reaction to what was seen as an abandonment then of the ‘Old System’, although that approach underrated the independence of Austrian and Russian policymaking. John, 4th Duke of Bedford, a Secretary of State in 1748–51, spoke for that view in the House of Lords on 5 February 1762 when he referred to Frederick II as paid for waging his own war against

Monitor, 9 July 1763. BL. Add. 6501 fol. 134. 17 BL. Add. 57928 fol. 22. 18 Holdernesse to Mitchell, 25 Ap. 1760, NA. SP. 90/75. 19 Halifax to Buckinghamshire, 24 June (quote), 1, 5 July 1763, NA. SP. 91/71 fol. 254, 91/72 fols 2–5; F. Spencer (ed.), The Fourth Earl of Sandwich: Diplomatic Correspondence 1763– 1765 (Manchester, 1961), but also H. Butterfield, ‘British Foreign Policy, 1762–65’, Cambridge Historical Journal, 6 (1963), pp. 131–40. 15 16

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Britain’s natural allies, which, to Bedford and many others, meant Austria and Russia. This was an approach that necessarily complicated that of interventionism or not, because it asked questions for the Seven Years’ War, and other episodes, of interventionism to what end; with implementation being more important than the fact of interventionism. As with ‘blue water’, but, even more, goals varied, as did implementation, in the case of interventionism; and the relationship between the two elements, goals and implementation, was part of the contention. So also with the key role of politics in affecting both, as well as the perception held by foreign powers. Thus, in 1763, the chance of pro-Prussian politicians regaining power in Britain was held as a reason why Austria could not rely on any co-operation with France and Britain over the Polish crisis.20 In the same debate on 5 December 1762, the young William, 2nd Earl of Shelburne (1737–1805) voiced another plank of the opposition to the Prussian alliance, namely that it was really a means to help Hanover,21 a charge that had had considerable substance. Indeed, the opposition motion that day for bringing troops home from Germany drew on a number of welljustified arguments, including cost. Shelburne is to return in our study as Secretary of State for the Southern Department (1766–8), Home Secretary (1782), and Prime Minister (1782–3), thus indicating the extent to which any chronological sectionalization of the subject, and its politics, has, as just now with Bedford, to deal with continuity in the shape of individuals and issues. The search for alliance has been ably covered in the literature, notably in a major and valuable work by Hamish Scott,22 and, building on an argument by Michael Roberts,23 there is a well-established analysis, one that essentially presents a Britain unwilling to make the concessions necessary to obtain alliances that would have enabled a repetition of the conquering America in Germany formula developed in the Seven Years’ War when Britain next fought France. This is then read forward to help explain failure when that conflict resumed in 1778 during the War of American Independence, and, in turn, that analysis is read back to criticize policy in the intervening period. This approach remains the most influential one, not least because Brendan Simms’ reiteration of it was published in paperback by Penguin.24 The criticism of British policy taken by those who adopt this approach can be matched by that of another aspect of British politics, the frequent changes of ministries and the impression it created of an inability therefore to rely on British assurances.25

Châtelet, French envoy in Vienna, to Praslin, 17 Aug. 1763, AE. CP. Aut. 295 fols 201–2. NA. PRO. 30/8/70/5. 22 H.M. Scott, British Foreign Policy in the Age of the American Revolution (Oxford, 1990). 23 M. Roberts, Splendid Isolation 1763–1780 (Reading, 1970) 24 B. Simms, Three Victories and a Defeat: The Rise and Fall of the First British Empire (London, 2007). 25 AF. CP. Ang. 472 fols 140–1. 20 21

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It is, however, an approach that in itself bears re-examination from the perspectives of British domestic politics and geopolitics, while also providing the basis for reconsidering the dynamics of British power. Given the serious, and ultimately fatal, strain to the British governmental and imperial system that was to be caused by the attempts to tackle fiscal problems after the Seven Years’ War, and the extent to which, as the Russians were (correctly) told, the Treasury was exhausted by the war,26 it is ironic that there should be scholarly criticism of the government for not spending money on a subsidy to Russia. Alongside the promise of backing for Russian plans in Poland and Sweden, and support if Russia was attacked by the Turks, the ‘Turkish clause’, such a subsidy was the prime Russian requirement for any alignment. Unacceptable to British ministers,27 the ‘Turkish clause’ was made more pressing by the possibility that Turkey would act to thwart Russian intervention in Poland.28 As far as Austria was concerned, there were not these political costs for Britain, as Austria after the Seven Years’ War, while still wanting the return of Silesia from Prussia, lacked Russia’s desire for expansionism. In May 1763, Stormont, newly-appointed as envoy to Vienna, was instructed to ‘give proper assurances of our sincere desire to return to the ancient system of union, intimacy and communication of counsels, for our mutual benefit, and for the public good’,29 but there was justified concern that, despite ‘general professions’, Austria instead looked to France.30 The Austrians saw no reason to depart from their alliance with France, which was treated by the British as a wartime expedient, in a serious misreading of Austrian intentions, but one that underlined the difficulty of distinguishing between what might be shortand long-term. Notions of the apparently proper ordering of foreign policy and of the allegedly true character of the international system did not help in this respect, and, more particularly, imposed a prior prioritization in goals and means, because, in practice, rival systems were on offer. The British were not alone in the view that there was an opportunity to remake the pre-1756 ‘Old System’, but, in part, this approach was a matter of privileging the international system, and a reading of it, over the perspective of individual powers; and as a consequence, of assuming that a perception of how the system ‘ought’ to operate was correct and also represents a way to gauge the concepts and conduct of past states and ministers.31

Buckinghamshire to Sandwich, 23 Nov. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fol. 231. See also, Yorke to Weston, 13 Dec. 1763, BL. Add. 58213 fol. 323. 27 Halifax to Buckinghamshire, 16 Aug., 23 Sept. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fols 44, 107–8. 28 Châtelet to Prâslin, 16 July 1763, AE. CP. Aut. 295 fol. 67. 29 Instructions for Stormont, 25 May 1763, NA. SP. 80/199. 30 Halifax to Buckinghamshire, 1 July 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fol. 2; Yorke to Weston, 5 July 1763, BL. Add. 58213 fol. 264. 31 Paul Schroeder’s The Transformation of European Politics, 1763–1848 (Oxford, 1994) is a highly-influential instance of this approach which also suffers from a failure to understand British policy. 26

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However, far from a ‘Concert of Europe’ being a reality that could, and should, have been employed to guide policy and strategy in this period, there was no regularity and predictability in state conduct able to match rhetorical calls for such co-operation. The British were not alone in arguing that, if they could unite with Austria that would distract French attentions, counteracting the strength of the Franco-Spanish alliance,32 but that approach failed to grasp the nature of Austrian policy. In particular, Chancellor Kaunitz did not wish to be involved in Anglo-Bourbon conflicts. The experience of 1754–6 had shown how British policy could be led by such a conflict. Moreover, contemporary and later criticism of British assumptions and policy can be matched by the ministers and diplomats of other powers also complaining about being fobbed off by Austria with generalities and about difficulties in maintaining links.33 As a separate point, Yorke indeed discerned in 1763 a more general lack of co-operation in international relations, as well, more implausibly, as an Austria in ‘a forced system’ with France.34 In this and other respects, the comparative dimension needs to be pushed to the fore in discussing capabilities and problems, for, as Alexander Forrester correctly noted after a visit to France in 1763, the factionalism of British politics was matched by that in France.35 It is also important for Britain, as for other powers, to bring into the analysis discussion of the situation prior to 1763 and that subsequent to 1783, each of which can be employed to question the standard analysis for British policy in 1763–83 that Continental alliances necessarily provided the strengthening required and advocated. Instead, it is appropriate to ask whether, rather, they did not provide commitments amounting to domestic and international risk, and even an incubus. This happened through alliance with Prussia during the Seven Years’ War, and then again in 1790–1, and with Austria in the latter stages of the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–8), and then during the subsequent fruitless pursuit of the Imperial Election Scheme.36 These issues may seem far distant from the fate of America as part of the British world, but are, in fact, highly pertinent because they relate to contemporary, and later, discussion of how best to protect America, and thus to an assessment of strategy as necessarily extending far beyond the Atlantic world, so that, to rephrase a different suggestion, the flutter of a report that Turkey or Persia (Iran) might fight Russia could have major

Ossun, French envoy in Spain, to Choiseul, French Foreign Minister, 8 Feb. 1762, AE. CP. Esp. 535 fols 169–70. 33 Châtelet to Prâslin, 10, 31 Aug. 1763, AE. CP. Aut. 295 fols 169, 264. 34 Yorke to Weston, 6 Sept., 15 Nov. 1763, BL. Add. 58213 fols 288, 314. 35 Forrester to Mitchell, 12 Sept. 1763, BL. Add. 30999 fol. 17. 36 J. Black, ‘The British Attempt to Preserve the Peace in Europe, 1748–1755’, in H. Duchhardt (ed.), Zwischenstaatliche Friedenswahrung in Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit (Cologne, 1991), pp. 227–43. 32

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consequences on the banks of the Hudson.37 The notion of such a causation appears particularly plausible in a schematic account of international relations, whether in peace or in war, that may owe a lot to Newtonian physics and the concept of a system operating in a mechanistic fashion. To take the metaphor further, this, however, is an account of perfect workings that leaves insufficient space for friction. The account therefore is of the character of an imaginary machine, or to be seen like an eighteenth-century orrery which does not have the encumbrance of humans in order to show a system created in some Deistic fantasy of intelligent design. Because the international system clearly did not operate in such systemic terms, a host of factors were adduced at the time for this failure, and have been subsequently. Although folly was frequently discerned, the most potent criticism was that of evil intention, in the shape of the deliberate failure of selfinterested individuals, usually ministers, but sometimes economic or other groups, to follow both the national interest and that of the international system. That argument was used extensively at the time, and was a prime basis of criticism in British political polemics in the shape of all would have been well, but for policies that were maladroit, if not worse. It was also very common, both in Britain and elsewhere, to describe differences over policy in other governments in terms of national preferences, as with ‘French’ versus ‘Russian’ parties in Sweden, or ‘Austrian’ versus ‘Spanish’ factions at the Neapolitan court, or ‘the Court of Vienna is governed by French councils’.38 That method did not tend to be commonly employed to describe British politics; although foreign diplomats could do so, and notably so when assessing the tensions over relations with Prussia in the early 1760s or considering links between the Russian ambassador Count Semyon Vorontsov and the opposition in the late 1780s and early 1790s. In practical terms, the factionalism was often in part that of individuals who sought support by portraying the situation in terms of supposed natural alignments; a process that was encouraged by spending by foreign diplomats on building up backing. Thus, Sir James Harris, in St Petersburg in 1777–83, in a reverse of what he was intending, was used by Prince Potemkin in order to undermine Count Panin, the Russian Foreign Minister. As a result, however, Harris turned Panin’s neutrality into hostility towards Britain and lost touch with the realities of Russian policy.39 The British were prone to misunderstand the

37 J. Barrow-Green, Poincaré and the Three Body Problem (London, 1996); J.D. Barrow, Impossibility. The Limits of Science and the Science of Limits (London, 1998); P. Gadison, Einstein’s Clocks, Poincaré’s Maps: Empires of Time (New York, 2003). For a criticism of the applicability of chaos theory to history, R.J. Evans, Altered Pasts: Counterfactuals in History (Waltham, Mass., 2014), p. 66. For the applicability, J. Black, Other Pasts, Different Presents, Alternative Futures (Bloomington, IN, 2015), particularly pp. 64–5. 38 Earl of Buckinghamshire, envoy in St Petersburg, to Halifax, 25 Ap. 1763, NA. SP. 91/71 fol. 229. 39 I. de Madariaga, Britain, Russia and the Armed Neutrality of 1780 (London, 1962), pp. 450–1.

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nature of Russian policy, and, in particular, the extent to which Russia was not reliant on alliance with Western European powers, as well as to overestimate the significance of Anglo-Russian commercial links. Holdernesse wrote to Robert Keith, envoy in St Petersburg, in 1759: you know I always thought the alliance between France and Russia was unnatural and consequently not durable, whereas the interests of commerce will always make it right for England and Russia to be in friendship and alliance.40 There was also a tendency, based on the experience of past politics and relations to believe that Russia was particularly unstable. Thus, in January 1764, Andrew Mitchell reported from Berlin: ‘Reports prevailed here for some days past, of certain conspiracies in Russia, which may possibly occasion great alterations in that government.’41 In turn, foreign envoys could be apt to present British politics as unpredictable and ministers as overly concerned about domestic disputes;42 although, in practice, George III and British ministers emphasized the need and ability to get government business through Parliament.43 Moreover, a lack of ministerial discussion of international issues with foreign diplomats, or of parliamentary debate about them, however irritating or at least a matter of concern or report, to these diplomats,44 was not itself a proof of weakness or failure. Priorities were very much domestic and imperial, rather than those of foreign policy. When discussing a situation in which corruption is not seen as at stake in policy choices, the modern counterpart to the eighteenth-century argument of the betrayal of national interest is more commonly that of ‘false consciousness’. That criticism essentially has been the charge thrown at British policymaking for most of our period, and notably of the failure of perception supposedly proven by the absence of a significant ally from the collapse of the AngloPrussian alliance in 1762 to the negotiation of the Triple Alliance with Prussia and the Dutch in 1788, a year after an eventual Anglo-Prussian co-operation in the Dutch Crisis. This approach is superficially persuasive, both because it

Holdernesse to Keith, 9 Oct. 1759, BL. Add. 35483 fol. 9. Mitchell to Sandwich, 3 Jan. 1764, NA. SP. 90/83 fol. 8; Woodford, envoy to Hamburg, to Sandwich, 10 Jan. 1764, NA. SP. 82/81 fol. 5. 42 Marmora to Charles Emmanuel III, 11, 15 Nov. 1763, 21 Jan., 21 Feb. 1764, LM. Ing. 69. For more positive views, Guerchy to Praslin, 7 Feb. 1764, AE. CP. Ang. 455 fol. 273, Feronce to Duke Karl of Brunswick, 7 Feb. 1764, NA. SP. 107/97; Zweibrücken, envoy in Paris, to Count Christian IV of Zweibrücken-Birkenfield, 15 Feb. 1764, Munich, Gesandtschaft Paris vol. 221. 43 Sandwich to Buckinghamshire, 18 Nov. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fol. 194; Guerchy to Praslin, 19 Nov. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 452 fol. 194. 44 Marmora to Charles Emmanuel III, 6, 13 Dec. 1763, AST. LM. Ing. 69. 40 41

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is readily possible to find examples of egregious misperception by British ministers, diplomats, parliamentarians and commentators in this, as in any period, and because of the mismatch between the stated desire in the 1760s for alliances, and the failure to negotiate them. The purpose here, instead, is to offer a different account, one that links domestic politics to geopolitics; but, very briefly, the notion of ‘false consciousness’, although commonplace, is seriously flawed because it readily presupposes a proper policy, one with obvious goals and a necessary means for implementation; when, in practice, all of those assumptions can be questioned on conceptual, methodological and/or empirical grounds. These grounds range widely, but a key one is that of the depoliticization of the policy process by assuming the existence of a correct policy that could only be criticized due to folly or self-interest. So also with the related notion of an appropriate strategic culture. Secondly, there is also an ex-post facto historiography at play that seeks to judge back from consequences, but, aside from the inherent flaws of that approach, there are also major limitations in terms of the reading from events to create a pattern of causation that can then be analysed in this fashion. Such an analysis underplays greatly the multiplicity of factors at play in causation, and the many unpredictabilities involved, and therefore also valid in counterfactual speculation.45 All these elements provide a more pertinent understanding of debate in policy formulation and friction in policy implementation than the argument that they derived essentially from misperceptions by contemporary British policymakers. In addition, the questioning of this last approach can be hardened by noting that the scholars involved, principally Roberts, Scott and Simms, while prominent in diplomatic history, did not have similar expertise in the field of British domestic history, and, to a degree, failed to grasp the relevant dynamics of the latter and the necessary compromises. In particular, none of them could be accused of taking a Treasury view and/or one based on the issues of parliamentary management. Instead, their perspective was that of a different strand, the Secretaries of State who acted as diplomatic projectors creating a system which they sought to implement by means of commitments, notably, but not only, subsidy treaties.46 Thus, we have James, Viscount Stanhope in the late 1710s, Charles, 2nd Viscount Townshend in the late 1720s, John, Lord Carteret in 1742–4, and Thomas, Duke of Newcastle in the early 1750s. The titles are worthy of note, as are the offices. These were aristocrats in the House of Lords who served as Secretaries of State: in 1716–17 and 1718–21; 1721–30; 1721–4, 1742–4; 1724–54 respectively. They did not have to get government business through the House of Commons, which was a far more difficult parliamentary chamber to manage and the one responsible for voting

45 46

J. Black, Other Pasts, Different Presents, Alternative Futures (Bloomington, IN, 2015). J. Black, Debating Foreign Policy in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Farnham, 2011).

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taxation. In each case, the individuals above became associated with systems that were to the despair of those, notably Sir Robert Walpole and Henry Pelham, First Lord of the Treasury respectively in 1721–42 and 1743–54, concerned with the national finances, and that in a period of the gold standard. Moreover, with Townshend in 1730 and Carteret in 1744, as with Francis, 5th Duke of Leeds, Foreign Secretary in 1791 during the unsuccessful handling of the Ochakov Crisis with Russia, it proved necessary to force out the Secretary of State because their policies were not only dangerous in international terms, but also not viable in domestic ones, both with reference to the ministry and with regard to Parliament. Viability should be understood in terms of contemporary political assumptions and fiscal willingness, which were linked; and the assumption that ‘false consciousness’ was involved in the response is mistaken, not only in terms of the specific issues of the moment, but also, more generally, because the views of Secretaries of State and of diplomats, both British and foreign, frequently proved a misleading guide to the exigencies of parliamentary management. From this perspective, George III, with his background in ‘Country’ ideas and political opposition or, at least, estrangement, had a sounder understanding of the situation than George II who never really understood the nature and rationale of adversarial politics. Moreover, some Secretaries of State of the period, for example Halifax (1762–5) and Sandwich (1763–5, 1770–1), understood the scale of post-war financial exhaustion and the resulting lack of practicality of any subsidies.47 Also, noting that Britain was not being kept informed by Russia, and did not support partition for Poland, Sandwich approved Buckinghamshire holding out no hope of British subsidies: which neither the present situation of affairs in Europe, nor the state of a country, just at the end of a bloody, and most expensive war, nor the necessities of alliances, give any room to expect or desire . . . nor does the situation of His Kingdoms require that the King should purchase, or solicit, an alliance, in which the interests of Russia are at least as much connected as those of Great Britain.48 However, to the Russian envoy, as the British knew through postal interceptions, this reluctance came from the instability of British politics and the weakness of the government.49 Moreover, he, like other diplomats, believed that the British government could readily increase its borrowing,50 an argument that ignored justified British anxieties about a liquidity crisis.51

Guerchy to Praslin, 28 Oct. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 451 fol. 475. Sandwich to Buckinghamshire, 20 Dec. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fols 237–8. 49 Vorontsov to Catherine II, 3 Jan. 1764, NA. SP. 107/96. 50 Marmora to Charles Emmanuel III, 24 Jan. 1764, AST. LM. Ing. 69. 51 St James’s Chronicle, 10 Ap. 1764. 47 48

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Yet, moving away from that diplomatic chatter or noise, it was possible to see more reflective comments such as that of the French envoy in Vienna who noted both that Britain like France had been exhausted by the war and therefore did not wish to start another, and that Britain had no influence in Poland.52 Indeed, far from that being a matter of the weakness of the ministries or this period, it had already been the case with the War of the Polish Succession (1733–5). There was serious political division in Britain in 1763–9, and related problems of parliamentary management, but these neither owed much to foreign policy, nor did foreign policy contribute greatly to the tensions in the domestic political world. This absence of serious and protracted disputes over foreign policy in the domestic world was further ensured by the generally cautious attitude of the ministries of the 1760s to Continental commitments, and by the unwillingness of Continental governments to respond to British approaches and terms for alliance. In particular, due to the ministerial reluctance to commit to peacetime subsidies; these did not have to be managed through Parliament; nor did they divide the ministry. Instead, the situation was similar to that under Walpole in the late 1730s, but with Britain now stronger. It has also been curious to see scholarly praise, in the shape of approval for post-1763 attempts at commitment, offered to two politicians who, whatever their political strength, were really busted flushes, namely Newcastle and Pitt. Each, as already mentioned, offered yesterday’s solutions to yesterday’s problems, an approach more generally true of the interventionists. Moreover, there was already scholarship indicating that, irrespective of a flawed assessment of the British domestic situation, the modern support for interventionism in the eighteenth century, risks underplaying the inherent conceptual flaws of the latter. Thus, Isabel de Madariaga concluded in 1962 of Sir James Harris’ mission to St Petersburg in 1777–83: He and his superiors in London were heirs to a tradition which regarded Russia as the ‘natural ally’ of Great Britain. Yet in the first phase of the war relations with Britain were by no means the most important aspect of Russian foreign policy.. . . At no point does one find a realistic appraisal . . . of Russian national interest. Suffolk, Stormont, Grantham, and Harris clothe their thought in out-of-date assumptions, and well-worn clichés flow mellifluously from their pens. . .. A further misconception . . . namely that British aims could be achieved by corruption.53

Châtelet to Guerchy, 7 Feb. 1764, NA. SP. 107/97. For poverty limiting French action against Britain in India, Yorke to Weston, 28 Feb. 1764, BL. Add. 58213 fol. 343. 53 Madariaga, Armed Neutrality, pp. 439, 448. For such language, see also Halifax to Buckinghamshire, 24 June 1763, NA. SP. 90/71 fols 252–4. 52

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Indeed, it is pertinent to turn to the developing geopolitics of the 1760s and to assess British foreign policy accordingly. Inevitably, every period is one of continuity as well as change, and so also with the geopolitics, as many of the developments that are identified with this period, notably the rise of what became ‘the Eastern Question’, had already been found earlier. Thus, if Catherine the Great of Russia (r. 1762–96) successfully pursued acquisitions in the Balkans at the expense of the Turks and sought to dominate Poland, both had been goals of Peter the Great (r. 1682–1725), under whom Russian troops had been deployed in Germany, as they were again to be in 1735 and 1748. If Europe was less dominated by the Atlantic powers than in the age of Louis XIV of France (r. 1643–1715), that dominance had itself been exaggerated, and, anyway, a major transition had occurred from the mid1680s as Austria began the conquest of Hungary. In these, and other, respects there was a marked degree of continuity between the 1760s and earlier circumstances. The change supposedly seen with the decline of French influence in Eastern Europe in the 1760s for example was already apparent in the 1710s, and then again in the 1730s. Thus, it is not necessary to focus on new elements when discussing whether Britain and France failed to appreciate the dynamics of the situation.54 The details and dating of change and continuity can be debated at length, but the underlying point is that there was an inherent character which can be variously described as dynamism or instability, but that certainly did not suggest predictability. Partly as a consequence, the policy prescriptions of the past, however much defended in terms of supposed natural or national interests, did not offer much guidance to the needs of the moment nor, indeed, to the best way to arrive at a suitable future. Indeed, reading them as a system in the past, can lead to a failure to devote due attention to their precarious character then, and, therefore, to the degree to which the change in both circumstances and policy was less than might be assumed. Instead, it was frequently a change in rhetoric that was at issue. Recent years, those from 1755, had delivered ample evidence of major alternations in policy, particularly by Austria, Prussia, Russia and Spain, and it was scarcely surprising that Britain did likewise in 1762, as it had already done in 1755 when deciding to attack the French in North America. Nor, looking to the future, was there any reason to anticipate a likely continuity in response to any initiatives or promises that Britain would make. The British had already found the Dutch, the major partner from 1689 to 1748, a disappointing ally during the Seven Years’ War when the Dutch remained neutral,55 and there was no reason to anticipate difference from anyone else. Leaving aside the question of the implausibility of Britain finding common ground with allies, existing, such as Portugal, or potential,

54 55

J. Black, European International Relations 1648–1815 (Basingstoke, 2002). A.C. Carter, The Dutch Republic in Europe in the Seven Years’ War (1971).

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in crises that might arise, and the difficulty of her securing appropriate and effective help, there was the very question of why the opportunities of the moment – for Britain and others – should be seen as likely to last. Indeed, the issue was a matter of specific conjunctures rather than of a lasting alignment of action: the moment was the key element, not some machine of lasting working parts. In short, a system did not contribute to particular outcomes, which, of course, was not the ideology of modern discussants of international relations, nor of those eighteenth-century commentators they tend to cite. For Britain as well as other powers, key instances of tension and unpredictability occurred in 1768 and 1770, as the first witnessed war beginning between Russia and Turkey, while the second, with the Falkland Islands Crisis, saw the prospect of conflict between Britain on the one hand and France and Spain on the other, and Rochford, as Secretary of State for the Northern Department, demanding disavowal and restitution with the threat of naval force. Each crisis represented unpredictability for potential alliance partners, but also captured the question of the lack of clarity over what could be done were there to be an alliance. The chance of Russia seriously helping Britain against France and Spain was remote, even allowing for the fact that it was already at war with the Turks and intervening in Poland. Britain in theory could have done more in 1768, but the dispatch of a British fleet to Turkish waters while not impossible, as the Russians successfully showed in 1770, was a significant task that would have lessened any possibility of a British response to hostile Bourbon actions. The risk of the latter was underlined in 1768 when France purchased Corsica from Genoa, a step that was taken as compromising British interest in the Mediterranean, and, in particular, lessening the possibility of Sardinia (Savoy-Piedmont) allying with Britain, as it had done in conflicts from the 1690s to the 1740s. In practice, criticism of the British government for not being firmer against the French step, a situation that certainly owed something to its distraction over riots in London, underplayed the major significance for Sardinian freedom of manoeuvre and actions (or, indeed, those of Britain) of the treaties already between Austria (an important Italian power) and both Spain and France. However, it was far easier to blame the British government for this development; and to do anything else was pointless in so far as political and public criticism in Britain were concerned. More generally, cost-benefit is complex, because, despite the apparent precision suggested, cost and benefit were both inherently political and contentious and also usually occurred on different timescales. The value of an alliance was reflected in general deterrence as well as specific crises, but its costs were also seen in terms of expenditure, engagement in particular crises, and a general commitment. From this perspective, the lack, despite British probings, of an alliance between Britain and the major Continental powers should be treated not in terms of failure but with regard to a wellgrounded unwillingness, by Britain and others, to accept the cost-benefit equations at stake. This unwillingness can be traced to an understanding of

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respective needs, issues, capabilities and problems; rather than to a political perception, indeed psychology, unsuited to the task. For Britain, the geopolitics in question were those of the last stage of the Seven Years’ War, rather than its earlier stages. In this last stage, in 1762, there was already a bifurcation in the war. On the one hand, Britain was at war with Spain as well as France, while, in parallel, the politics of Continental Europe were made unpredictable by rapid changes in Russian policy as Elizabeth was succeeded by the prussophile Peter III, before he was murdered later that year to make way for his wife, Catherine II, Catherine the Great. To a degree, this bifurcation may be seen as latent in the earlier stages of the war, but, in practice, the situation had changed with the accession of George III in 1760, who, as the French rapidly appreciated, was unwilling to be threatened into major policy choices by the French threat to Hanover, a situation that was to recur in the 1790s and 1800s. In 1762, there was nothing that Prussia could do to help Britain against Spain and, more specifically, assist in the protection of Portugal, just as, in 1735–7, Britain had had to rely on its navy to deter the possibility of Spanish attack in Portugal. Indeed, the situation in 1762 looked ahead to post-war confrontation with the Bourbons and, eventually, to war with France from 1778. As a result, the London Evening Post on 23 February 1762 unrealistically demanded that no peace be negotiated unless the Franco-Spanish Family Compact (the Third one, that signed in 1761) had been annulled. The equations of naval strength and preparedness crucial to any clash between Britain and the Bourbons were not significantly influenced by Austria, Prussia and Russia, which was a major reason why they had limited value as potential allies: despite having ports (Austria at Trieste), Austria and Prussia were not naval powers, while Catherine the Great’s major build-up of the Russian navy, heavily dependent on British expertise, had not produced a fleet that was yet seen as a key ocean-ready fleet. Nor were the geopolitical linkages of the state systems of Eastern and Western Europe previously offered in many respects by Italy, Germany, the Low Countries, and the Holstein isthmus, still in play. Alliances between Spain and Austria, France and Austria, and in the Baltic, served to lessen the possibility that any British ally in Eastern Europe could, or would, exert pressure on France, Spain, or their allies, by action in these areas. Russia, moreover, while powerful, was to spend the period 1763–95 focused on Poland and the Turks, with periodic crises over Sweden as well. It was not readily in a position to repeat its earlier pressure further west. Indeed, that provided the French Revolutionaries a crucial opportunity during the War of the First Coalition (1792–7), one that the Directory in the War of the Second Coalition (1798–1802) and, later, Napoleon prior to peace in 1807 were to find more difficult to obtain. A geopolitical distancing by Britain was accompanied by one of Britain; the two interacting although not necessarily coterminous. Other states became less interested in its policies. Instead, British geopolitical interests in the years after the Peace of Paris of 1763 registered concerns and issues in

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places that many in their youth would have struggled to find on a map. This process was accompanied by a widening of the geographical imagination, not least in the British voyages of exploration in the Pacific that were particularly associated with James Cook, whose voyages were in 1768–71, 1772–5 and 1776–9. Alongside knowledge, power was at stake, especially with regard to France’s rival explorations, and all aspects of naval activity were understood in that light. Thus, the active British charting of North American waters in the 1760s and 1770s was designed to secure not only trade but also the capacity for force-projection. The knowledge pursued as power by the British state was very much located in the trans-oceanic sphere. As before, this was a geopolitics of partnership, which was the nature of British imperialism, but while partnerships in India were developed by, and around, the central relationship of the government and the East India Company, in North America the equivalent partnership was frayed in this period by growing competition over the interior. The guarantee of Native American rights was also seen elsewhere, notably in the treaties of the late 1730s with Maroon communities of natives and escaped slaves in Jamaica; but settler land-hunger there was not as dynamic a factor as it was in North America where, indeed, it had played a major role in taking Britain and France to conflict from 1754. After 1763, there was not the comparable tension with Spain, now the imperial power in much of the former French colony of Louisiana. The Spanish positions were far more tangential to British settler interests than those of the French in the Ohio River country had been in the early 1750s. Moreover, the British had sufficient room to expand in Florida, both West (the ‘Panhandle’ over to the Mississippi) and East, and this room provided an effective buffer. So also did the marginality of Louisiana to the Spaniards, as earlier to the French.56 Islands in the Caribbean (Cuba and SaintDomingue respectively) were more lucrative, while the centre of Spanish activity was Mexico. In contrast, the Anglo-Cherokee War encouraged Britain to seek to avoid another such struggle by limiting American expansion, but that process and procedure helped provoke South Carolinian hostility to imperial rule.57 More generally, land hunger helped lead to anger among the North American colonists with the Proclamation Line that the British government imposed as a sign and measure of its protection for Native Americans who had shown the problem they could cause with Pontiac’s War of 1763–6 in the Ohio Valley,58 the disadvantageous report of which in St Petersburg the British D. Narrett, Adventurism and Empire: The Struggle for Mastery in the Louisiana-Florida Borderlands, 1762–1803 (Chapel Hill, NC, 2015). 57 D.J. Tortora, Carolina in Crisis: Cherokees, Colonists, and Slaves in the American Southeast, 1756–1763 (Chapel Hill, NC, 2015). 58 M. Ward, Breaking the Backcountry: The Seven Years’ War in Virginia and Pennsylvania, 1754–1765 (Pittsburgh, Penn., 2003), p. 253. 56

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government was eager to contradict.59 Anger was further provoked by the Québec Act of 1774 and its governmental and territorial implications, notably granting most of the Ohio Country to Québec. In essence, and in part in response to the Native Americans who thus helped in the attempted shaping of the interior, the British government was delimiting the original colonies, which had earlier been feared was the intention of France. This process of delimitation was to occur after independence, but then it was consultative and the basis for the creation of new territories. Moreover, the new territories were not to be allocated to the benefit of Native Americans, nor to an authority based in Canada. Thus, the settlers sought the logic of an open frontier; while the British government defined a frontier because the territory beyond was not open and it had contradictory responsibilities there. The government was not going to rule by abdicating all power and authority to the local settlers, nor give them a representation in Parliament. This situation established the basis for a rift between Britain and the settlers, although, in the event, far from revolution being launched in 1775 as a new stage in the struggle to control the North American interior, the cause of conflict in 1754, it was, instead, to be the port cities, notably Boston, that were the foci of division, which reflected the more significant role of trade than land in the geopolitics of the British empire. Moreover, this was another example of geopolitical friction, for the dispute over expansion was important, but not crucial: it did not translate, transfer or transmit (and, as ever, the choice of metaphor is instructive), as well as that over trade. This difference, moreover, looks toward a subsequent one in American policy towards Britain, namely the early nineteenth-century salience of anger over maritime issues as opposed to concern over Canada as a base for Native American hostility. The comparison is, to a degree, undermined by the extent to which inland issues were more significant to American society and polities by 1812 than in 1775. Nevertheless, this point remains a reminder that units, in this case ‘America’, were contested spheres in terms of identity, interest, politics and policy. So also with the issue of British imperial control over trade and its revenues. The Admiralty used the navy to enforce imperial mercantilism in the peace years,60 which was repeatedly a cause of discontent. This situation, however, does not make a state, an empire, an alliance, or a system, unworkable. So also with British government, not least in policy toward its American colonies. The government, in turn, faced a crisis, in Britain as well as the colonies, stemming from the attempt at colonial taxation, an attempt closely associated with the successive Bute (1762–3) and Grenville (1763–5) ministries. The Stamp Act of 1765, which was

Sandwich to Buckinghamshire, 21 Oct. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72 fol. 150. S. Kinkel, Disciplining the Empire: Politics, Governance, and the Rise of the British Navy (Cambridge, Mass., 2018).

59 60

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pressed by George, who played a significant role in backing the policy of taxing the colonies to support the troops there,61 was opposed by the colonists and by Pitt. In the political crisis, George was not prepared to force his will, in the shape of his opposition to concession over the Stamp Act, on his new ministry, that of Charles, 2nd Marquess of Rockingham, First Lord of the Treasury in 1765–6, a protégé of Newcastle, and, in many senses, a reactive response to the Grenville ministry. However, George was unhappy about being head of a government which would not follow views he thought acceptable and necessary. Indeed, George was apt to be aggrieved if his opinions and goodwill were not reciprocated; and, reciprocation, in his eyes, tended to entail agreement, which was a matter of his personality and his interpretation of the relationship between Patriot kingship and politicians. Meanwhile, the American issue had not been settled, and the landing of troops in Boston in 1768 helped to increase tension as policing involved the use of military force. The ‘Boston Massacre’ of 5 March 1770, in which five Bostonians were killed, was seen by many Americans as demonstrating the militarization of British authority. It certainly showed strains in the bargains of authority and power that were part of any state system including that within Britain itself. The character of bargaining and the nature of bargains were very different for the British in India. Large-scale conflict in 1764 saw hard-won victories at Buxar and Patna, the results of which were far from inevitable, but which vindicated French fears about British expansionism in Bengal.62 At Buxar, Sir Hector Munro and 7,000 men of the East India Company’s army, including 1,500 Europeans, defeated the 50,000 strong combined forces of the Mughal Emperor, the Nawab of Bengal and the Wazir of Awadh. The Indian army had more cannon, and used them to considerable effect, but British infantry firepower was superior, and grapeshot and bayonets blocked the Indian cavalry. The Indians were driven from the field, but the battle lasted three hours. Victory was followed in 1765 by the seizure of a number of towns and then by the Treaty of Allahabad which recognized the British position in Bengal and Bihar, and thus stabilized the situation from the Indian as much as the British perspective. The Mughal Emperor conferred on the Company the right to collect revenue and conduct civil justice, which was to provide a solid source of revenue and manpower, and, more generally, a key place in the Indian military labour market.63

J. Bullion, Prelude to Disaster: George III and the Origins of the American Revolution, 1751–1763 (Berne, 2017). 62 Praslin to Guerchy, 11 Ap. 1764, AE. CP. Ang. 460 fol. 231. 63 R.G.S. Cooper, The Anglo-Maratha Campaigns and the Contest for India: The Struggle for the South Asian Military Economy (Cambridge, 2004); J.M. Vaughn, The Politics of Empire at the Accession of George III: The East India Company and the Crisis and Transformation of Britain’s Imperial State (New Haven, Conn., 2019). 61

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Paralleling the differences in so far as the British Empire of the North Atlantic was concerned of North America, the Caribbean, and, indeed, the British Isles, there was also a major (although very different) contrast in India: the Madras and, to a greater extent, Bombay presidencies of the Company lacked the resources of the Bengal presidency, and neither made great headway against local rivals. Nevertheless, wealthy Bengal enabled the Company to act as an effective territorial power, not only in the Ganges Valley but also elsewhere in India. This was far from easy, however, with both allies and opponents creating problems. In the former case, the clashing interest of differing members of the British system were an issue. For example, having become ambitious, Yusuf Khan, an outstanding sepoy officer in the Madras army in the 1750s and 1760s, seized Madurai from the Nawab of the Carnatic. As the ally of the latter, the Company acted against Yusuf, but found the terrain difficult, and ultimately relied on Yusuf being betrayed by one of his French officers. More easily, the Company was ceded the Northern Circars in 1766 by the Nizam of Hyderabad as the price of alliance. In 1767–9, however, further south, Haidar Ali of Mysore, a mercenary turned ruler, proved a difficult opponent, not least because of his strength in light cavalry. As in North America, but very differently, tax-revenue proved a key point; in 1769, Mysore cavalry ravaged the Carnatic, hitting the Company’s ability to raise taxes there, and forcing it to terms. The variety of opponents and environments of contention in the late 1760s, in India, as in North America, let alone on the global scale, indicates the complexity of any single portrayal of the geopolitics and strategy of empire. As with the initial stages of Pontiac’s War, the struggle against Haidar Ali warns against assuming that non-European opponents were necessarily less difficult as foes than their supposedly more ‘advanced’ European rivals. In practice, contrasting socio-political and military systems imposed major problems in these conflicts, as also with the British campaign on St Vincent in 1772 against the local Maroons. The Rockingham ministry (1765–6) had seen a revived attempt to win Continental allies, and by a ministry less inclined to put finance at the centre of its views than the Grenville ministry. Indeed, in matters of public finance, the Whig grandees of Rockingham’s generation were largely amateurs, in comparison with the professionalism of Henry Pelham, Grenville, Shelburne and Pitt the Younger. Frederick the Great’s response was not satisfactory, while Britain was unwilling to meet the terms expected by Russia, Denmark and Sweden. The attitude of the government met with criticism from Newcastle, who thought there was insufficient ‘regard had to foreign affairs and the forming a system of defensive alliances’,64 and from some envoys,

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notably George Macartney in St Petersburg,65 but George III was determined that Britain ‘be courted not court foreign powers’.66 While this was an overly simplistic account, one that captured George’s preference for polar opposites and for a stubbornness of clarity over a nuanced complexity; nevertheless, there was a root element of accuracy in this dichotomy: advantage was at stake in negotiations and ‘courting’ threatened to lose it. So, indeed, did the very process of negotiation. In 1766, George failed to sustain Rockingham when the ministry faced division over the position of Catholics in the new conquest of Québec. Instead, George turned to Pitt, but doing so did not bring him the popular support he had forfeited when Pitt had resigned in 1761. Moreover, amidst the complexities of peacetime politics, the sense of national unity that Pitt had been able to benefit from and to foster during the Seven Years’ War, and that George had sought to redefine and redirect, was now absent. Created Earl of Chatham in July 1766, the sickly Pitt abandoned the task of leading the Commons and did not accept one of the foremost offices of business. His inclination, however, was followed in foreign policy with the attempt to create a system with Prussia and Russia, in order to counteract that of Austria, France and Spain. In the Commons debate on the Address of Thanks while Pitt was still in opposition that January, he had warned that Britain needed to respond against Bourbon hostility,67 a hostility more dangerous because France and Spain were united. The response to the attempt, however, was unsatisfactory. Frederick, who sought to avoid war and to protect Prussian interests by diplomacy,68 wished neither to dilute his influence in St Petersburg, by linking Britain to the existing Prusso-Russian system, nor to risk committing himself to help Britain in any conflict with the Bourbons. In turn, Catherine was unhappy about the British refusal to support her interests. Nevertheless, George’s speeches in Parliament continued to offer a sense of calm. On 2 July 1767, at the close of the session, he announced: As no material alteration has happened in the state of foreign affairs since your first meeting, I have nothing to communicate to you on that subject. The fixed objects of all my measures are to preserve the peace, and at the same time, to assert and maintain the honour of my Crown and the just rights of my people.69

Bod. MS. Eng. Hist. c. 62 fols 24–5. WW R1–2137; Viry to Charles Emmanuel III, 26 July 1763, AST. LM. Ing. 68. 67 Cobbett, XVI, 107. 68 H.M. Scott, ‘Aping the Great Powers: Frederick the Great and the Defence of Prussia’s International Position, 1763–86’, German History, 12 (1994), pp. 286–307. 69 Cobbett, XVI, 377. 65 66

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George followed on 24 November at the opening of the next session: Nothing in the present situation of affairs abroad gives me reason to apprehend that you will be prevented, by any interruption of the public tranquillity, from fixing your whole attention upon such points as concern the internal welfare and prosperity of my people.70 On 10 March 1768, at the close of that session, George announced: I have nothing new to communicate to you in relation to foreign affairs. The apparent interest of the several powers in Europe, as well as the express assurances I have received from them, leave me no room to doubt of their disposition to preserve the general tranquillity.71 Newcastle repeatedly blamed the failure to establish an alliance system on a lack of British determination, but, as with other criticism, both then and subsequently, this exaggerated British agency and misunderstood the extent to which the British could have transformed the situation by offering different terms. In practice, there were international divisions that could not be readily finessed, however much Britain had taken a more accommodating position, divisions that portended the serious strains in the alliances of the period, for example the Austro-French alliance, notably in 1784–5. In 1768, Catherine was not interested in a defensive foreign policy, nor was there any reason to believe that she or Frederick was any more ready to be engaged in transoceanic colonial disputes than Austria had been in 1755 when Britain had found itself in a developing conflict with France. Indeed, in 1769, Frederick II and Maria Theresa’s son, Joseph II, promised to refrain from joining in any Anglo-French war. Repeating George’s mistaken expectation that good men would come together on a non-party basis to further national interests, and facing stress and depression, Chatham became an invalid, and George turned, instead, in 1768 to Chatham’s ally, Augustus, 3rd Duke of Grafton, who, having, in 1765–6, been the Northern Secretary of State (whom the French envoy trusted as pacific),72 had become First Lord of the Treasury in 1766, part of the pattern between 1754 and 1770 in which, in contrast to most of the century, the holder of that post usually sat in the House of Lords. It is easy to note political issues challenging the ministry, but the domestic situation was less disturbed than that in Spain in 1766 or Russia in 1773, and foreign envoys reported parliamentary sessions as essentially stable. Despite their different religious sympathies (Grafton was more liberal), George liked him,

Cobbett, XVI, 380. Cobbett, XVI, 422. 72 AE. CP. Ang. 472 fol. 146. 70 71

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but the Duke, who faced both political criticism and the problems of his divorce in 1769, was not really up to the job, either as a minister or as a politician. That, however, was not the key factor with Britain’s lack of success in 1768 when complaining about the French purchase of Corsica, although Britain’s potential role was less than its commentators imagined. Sardinian envoys had been pressing the government on the issue for years, notably in 1763,73 but with scant success. With both Austria and Spain allied with France, there were no significant allies that could play a role in a regional crisis, for Sardinia could only do so much. Had Britain been allied with Prussia and/or Russia, it would have probably made scant difference in 1768 as Russia had other issues to consider and both were not really interested in Corsica. A lack of significant allies was possibly an issue, but, in practice, the purchase was not a key matter for any power, including France, no more than, as Rochford suggested, the French being influenced by a view that Britain was weakened by ‘party divisions’.74 This was an unusual episode because it pushed the Mediterranean to the fore where it had not been for British policy since failure at Minorca in 1756; coverage by omission is always an instructive aspect of diplomatic history and strategy. As a result of the Corsica episode, the British government became more active, assisting in 1769 in the passage of a Russian fleet from the Baltic to the Mediterranean in order to fight the Turks and, in 1770, warning that Britain could not be an indifferent spectator to French intervention in that conflict. Yet, in 1768, there was a key contrast with 1770 (Falklands) and 1790 (Nootka Sound), in the sense that British territory was not involved in the case of Corsica, while Genoa had the right to sell it. To assume that Britain would have acted had it had an ally is mistaken. Indeed, while George III’s speech at the start of the session on 8 November 1768 was more warning in tone toward foreign powers than his recent ones,75 there was no room for action. Moreover, the ministry easily saw off criticism, defeating, nine days later, on a division of 230–84, an opposition motion for diplomatic correspondence with France over the issue. Similarly, in the debates on the Address on 9 January 1770, opposition claims that the ministry was failing to defend national interests and was leaving Britain vulnerable failed to shake its majority in either House. In the Commons, Frederick, Lord North was able to refer to earlier parliamentary support over the Corsica issue. In the Lords’ debate of 22 January 1770 on the state of the nation, the opposition use of the issue was again unsuccessful. That month, however, Grafton resigned when Chatham went into opposition and

Marmora to Charles Emmanuel III, 4, 11, 15 Nov., 13 Dec. 1763, AST. LM. Ing. 69. NA. SP. 78/285 fol. 122; G.W. Rice, ‘Deceit and Distraction: Britain, France and the Corsican Crisis of 1768’, International History Review, 28 (2006), pp. 287–315. 75 Cobbett, XVI, 466–7. 73 74

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the opposition groups joined forces, prefiguring the Fox-North combination of 1783. At the start of the new decade, ministerial stability appeared as elusive as ever. The period covered by this book was speckled with near-wars with other European powers.76 Confidence-building measures were necessary. Thus, in 1769, Thomas, 3rd Viscount Weymouth, the heavy-drinking Secretary of State for the Northern Department in 1768 and for the Southern in 1768– 70, replied to Choiseul’s disavowal of the naval armament at Toulon, France’s naval base on the Mediterranean: ‘That minister’s openness is giving an account of the object of any military preparations cannot fail to have salutary effects with regard to that good understanding which it His Majesty’s wish to keep up.’ In turn, the British ministry felt able to give ‘strong assurances’.77 Earlier in the year, Lord North, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, provided an assessment of French finances when he told the Commons that France was not in a state to go to war with Britain. The following January, Sir Edward Hawke, the First Lord of the Admiralty, responded to opposition claims that the government was concealing the risk of war with the Bourbons, by telling the Commons ‘I was in France last summer, and that I know certainly by the observations I made, that they are not in a condition to go to war.’78 Confidence was an insistent theme. In the context of the Baltic crisis of 1773, notably the Russian threat to Sweden, d’Aiguillon asked the British envoy, David, Viscount Stormont: Could you be satisfied with the most solemn engagements that our fleet shall do nothing but repel the attack upon our ally, and after having done that shall immediately return home without any attack upon Russia, or any other attempt whatever, we would give you every security on that head that you could desire.79 At the same time, alongside confidence-building statements, there was an emphasis on necessary watchfulness, Stormont reporting: You cannot watch their motions more than they will ours. If they see us upon our guard to keep pace with them, or if possible get before them, that may operate more strongly than any declarations how explicit soever. Of this at least I am persuaded that if they see the smallest backwardness

76 N. Tracy, Navies, Deterrence and American Independence: Britain and Sea Power in the 1760s and 1770s (Vancouver, 1988). 77 Weymouth to Harcourt, 28 Nov. 1769, NA. SP. 78/279 fol. 178. 78 Cobbett, XVI, 609, 682. For North in 1774 on the need for care in assessing French finances because ‘in France all is private’, XVII, 1331. 79 Stormont to Rochford, 31 Mar. 1773, NA. SP. 78/287 fols 150–1.

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in our preparations, from that backwardness joined to the knowledge they have of the great ability and activity that directs our Board of Admiralty at present, they will conclude that we are not in earnest, act accordingly and go too far to make it possible for them to retreat with honour.80 British security clearly rested on a naval position that was threatened by the Bourbons, and not by the Russian fleet. The Falkland Islands Crisis of 1770 was one of the most significant nearwars of the period, as it carried with it the risk of conflict with both France and Spain, instead of with only one, which had been the situation to the fore in 1764–9. The name is resonant because of the way in which an Argentinean takeover of the British colony in 1982 indeed led to war. In 1770, however, the ‘friction’ of the international system helped, as it was also to do in the comparable Anglo-Spanish Nootka Sound Crisis over Vancouver Island in 1790, in the sense of the time it took both to receive reports of distant episodes and due to the delays created by the time taken in negotiations. Moreover, although Rochford took a vigorous stance, neither George nor the new first minister, North, First Lord of the Treasury from 1770 to 1782 and again in 1783, took firmness to the point of bellicosity.81 As in 1790, however, there was also sufficient firmness to ensure that a weak opposition, which, in each case, had just lost a general election, was not able to exploit the issue. In 1770, the crisis caused by the expulsion of the British settlement involved only the British government, as both Indian and North American agencies of a wider British world did not take a role. In his speech of 22 November, Chatham cited both the Convention of the Pardo in 1738 and his advice for war with Spain in 1761, but there was to be no repetition of the international impasse that had given domestic ministerial and parliamentary critics of Walpole their opportunity to help push Britain into war with Spain in 1739, the War of Jenkins’ Ear. Crucially, as in 1739–41, and as again in 1790, France, in 1770, proved unwilling to take support for Spain to the point of conflict. Indeed, as so often, British geopolitics involved the action (or inaction) of many international players. Concerned about Russian strength in Eastern Europe, Choiseul initially tried to negotiate a settlement to the dispute, and pressed Spain to moderate her position, but, he also felt that a firm stance was likely to secure Bourbon goals and, to that end, he sought to match British naval preparations, while, by the start of December, he saw war both as inevitable and as likely to consolidate his domestic position. Louis XV’s unwillingness to fight defused the crisis with Choiseul and his cousin, the Minister of the

Stormont to Rochford, 31 Mar. 1773, NA. SP. 78/287 fol. 159. G.W. Rice, ‘British Foreign Policy and the Falkland Islands Crisis of 1770–71’, International History Review, 32 (2010), pp. 273–305.

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Marine, dismissed on 24 December, Louis thus resolving both the international crisis and the divisions within his ministry, for, in France, as elsewhere, the two were often joined. Charles III was notified that France needed peace, which both led Spain to settle with Britain and strained Franco-Spanish relations.82 What neither the crisis of 1770 nor that of 1790 suggested, however, was an international system that worked badly, at least for Britain, nor one in which Britain was unable to pursue its understanding of national interests. Nor, in 1770, did the lack of a Continental ally weaken the British response or determine the ministry to avoid war. Indeed, comparison with 1790 is instructive as Britain then had an ally in the shape of Prussia. That comparison provides a sanguine account of Britain’s position in 1770 when without such an ally; and further indicates how the pressure of space can lead to such a portrayal, or, indeed, to the opposite, even though such a process risks downplaying the complexity of the past. Thus, if ‘lessons’ from 1770 and/or 1790, can be drawn, to adopt an overly didactic term, they are, due both to possible comparisons and to this downplaying, frequently misleading; but, at the same time, drawing such lessons is a process that captures the contentious use of examples by contemporaries, indeed their creation as issues and terms for contention. In the event, Parliament repeatedly backed the ministry in 1770–1 over the Falkland Islands crisis, with divisions in the Commons on 22 November 1770, and 13 February and 5 March 1771, of 225–101, 271–157 and 130–43, and in the Lords on 14 February of 107–38. In this respect, stability was clearly to the fore.

82 A.S. Aiton, ‘Spain and the Family Compact, 1770–73’, in A.C. Wilgus (ed.), Hispanic American Essays (1942), pp. 135–49.

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Muddling Through? 1771–4 Stability was apparently to the fore for the empire in the early 1770s. This may seem a bizarre conclusion given the developing crisis in North America, one symbolized by the drama and symbolic violence of the Boston Tea Party of 16 December 1773 and its increasingly contentious aftermath in relations with Massachusetts in particular but the Thirteen Colonies in general. Moreover, what became the First Partition of Poland, that by Austria, Prussia and Russia in 1772, apparently represented a move toward a major breach in European international practice. Confronted by this, and by the overthrow of the Swedish ‘Age of Liberty’ the same year, the British government had to face changes within Europe from a perspective of isolation. Both in America and in Europe, the crisis later in the decade – of American revolution and British isolation, the latter exacerbated from 1778 as foreign powers supported American rebels – appeared to be already in embryo. That approach, however, both runs together in anticipation, as it is alltoo easy to do when looking for patterns, situations that at the time were more complex, and, separately, underplays the significance of political stability in Britain. In North America, also, the British government did not grasp the situation because of a misleading tendency to believe that only Massachusetts was seditious, a belief that led to the concentration of troops there. There was, in particular, an underestimation of the colonies’ willingness and ability to coordinate opposition, and especially that of the Southern colonies with New England. Elsewhere, nevertheless, there were no grave crises, and a measure of success. On the Caribbean island of St Vincent in 1772–3, British regulars had been able to settle disputes with local Maroons, leading, after an advance, to a new compromise. Furthermore, in 1774, local militia enabled John, 4th Earl of Dunmore, Governor of Virginia, to force the Shawnee to a peace in a conflict arising from Shawnee attacks on settlers west of the Appalachians, one exacerbated by rivalry between Pennsylvania and Virginia. In India, the British made gains, storming the city of Vellore in 1773 and moving into the territory of Oudh in 1773 in order to retain influence there and pre-empt that of the Marathas, the British going on in 111

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1774 to help the ruler of Oudh conquer Rohilkhand, defeating the Rohillas at Lahykira and ending Maratha influence. In Britain, the political situation had stabilized when George replaced Grafton, a man unenthusiastic for power, by a ministry under Frederick, Lord North on 28 January 1770. At last, he had found a first minister able to lead the Commons, manage business, and maintain a more united government. There was a personal link as North’s father, one of Frederick, Prince of Wales’ Lords of the Bedchamber, had been Prince George’s first Governor. An MP from 1754, North was six years older than George, an experienced and astute politician and capable Chancellor of the Exchequer, and, to the king, a sound man whom he could trust; although George, who could mistake his own stubbornness or rectitude with an intelligent response, was later to complain that he found North indecisive. North proved an active minister, at least until 1778–9, but George continued to keep a close eye on politics, with Parliament a particular focus of attention. North wrote regular parliamentary reports for George and was pressed by the king, who took a close interest in division figures, to win over or inspire particular parliamentarians. North was helped by a natural rallying of support to the Crown, the focus of most politicians’ loyalty, a rallying that took place in response both to the radicalism of some of the opposition and to a more general concern about the preservation of order. Furthermore, the reintegration of the Tories into the political mainstream in the late 1750s and the 1760s helped heal a longstanding divide in Britain, dating from the mid-seventeenth century, that had posed a challenge to political stability. Signs of a more widespread popularity for the government were certainly seen in the satisfactory results in the general elections of 1774 and 1780. Domestic stability was also well to the fore in the very enthusiastic scenes that greeted George when, associating himself with naval power (as Louis XVI was to do at Cherbourg in 1786), he visited Portsmouth in 1773, including other places on his journey. So also in October 1778, when George noted his ‘thorough satisfaction at the manner in which I have been received by all ranks of people on my late tour’.1 As a result of the domestic situation, the prospect of opposition politicians using the Falklands dispute of 1770, or the Polish and Swedish crises in 1772–3, to put pressure on the ministry was extremely limited. Already, in 1769, Simon, Earl Harcourt, the envoy in Paris and a diplomat personally very close to George, had told the French government ‘that we did not desire to see any change or alteration in the political system of Europe; that England had no views of aggrandizement, and it was to be wished that other powers would show the same moderation’.2 This very much set the tone both in 1770 and in 1772. In the former case, the opportunity for gain at the

1 2

George to North, 5 Oct. 1778, RA. GEO. 3089. Harcourt to Weymouth, 8 Feb. 1769, NA. SP. 78/277 fol. 117.

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expense of Spain was not pursued irrespective of the French role. Thus, there was to be no pursuit of unfinished business from when the two powers had last fought in 1762. In some respects, the situation was less comfortable in 1770 as both France and Spain had built their fleets up anew, and Britain’s relative naval position had deteriorated; but France faced internal difficulties and was concerned about developments in Eastern Europe. There were French Caribbean colonies for Britain to attack anew in the event of war, but, despite press comments, scant significant political drive to do so. The matter was settled on 22 January 1771 by a compromise, communicated to Parliament on 25 January. Spain promised to restore the Falklands’ base of Port Egmont to the British, while declaring that this concession did not affect its claim to sovereignty, and the British gave a secret, verbal assurance that they would evacuate Port Egmont. In the event, they did not do so until 1775, and then on the grounds of economy. Given the secret agreement, it was as well for the ministry that opposition demands on 25 January 1771 for the communication of more papers to Parliament were thwarted. North played a major role in the crisis, helping to ensure the maintenance of peace, not least by side-lining Rochford’s willingness to threaten the use of naval force. Thomas, 3rd Viscount Weymouth, Secretary of State for the Southern Department, who thought North insufficiently firm, resigned. Opposition criticisms gained no political traction and were countered by vigorous pro-government writings, including by Samuel (Dr) Johnson. The crisis again demonstrated the political bifurcation of Europe. Austria was not interested in coming to the aid of France and Spain, not least as it was more concerned about developments in Eastern Europe. Indeed, the crisis had a very different impact in Western and Eastern Europe. In the former, the fall of Choiseul and the Spanish restoration of Port Egmont both appeared signs of Bourbon weakness, but this success could not be translated into diplomatic influence for Britain, and notably so in Eastern Europe. Thus, in 1771, Russia rejected a British approach for an alliance. In 1772–3, the situation was somewhat different, as the question was whether, and if so how, Britain could, let alone should, benefit from the crises over Poland and Sweden. For each, there was the prospect of co-operating with the partitioning powers, more particularly Russia, or, alternatively, acting against them, the course offered by France, whose Foreign Minister from 1771 to 1774, Armand, Duke d’Aiguillon, believed that the two powers must co-operate to limit Russia’s rising power, and could do so. Such ideas had circulated for a time, Chancellor Kaunitz of Austria discussing with the French envoy in 1763 the need for firm language toward Russia and Prussia over Poland on the part of Austria, Britain and France.3 A number of geopolitical variables came into play; with Europe and the transoceanic world both in consideration. The press reported that the

3

Châtelet to Praslin, 16 July 1763, AE. CP. Aut. 295 fols 67–8.

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prospect of British action against the Partition of Poland had been countered by the threat to Hanover: It is generally imagined by those who seem best acquainted with the secret springs of government, that the dread of a Prussian army in the Electorate of Hanover has altered the intentions of our court relative to the propriety of sending a squadron up the Baltic.4 In practice, there is scant evidence that George, and therefore British policy, was directed by concern about Hanover in the early 1770s. There has been a trend since the 1970s to emphasize his concern, it was definitely greater than was suggested by his opening remarks in 1760 in his address to his first Privy Council, and an earlier tradition of writing about British foreign policy under George went too far in neglecting or underplaying the issue. In turn, however, the subsequent tendency has gone too far the other way. The discussion of George’s hostile response to Joseph II in 1785, more particularly the formation of the Fürstenbund (League of Princes) in which George as Elector played a key role,5 has been overly influential in shaping an account of his attitude as a whole. Ironically, this approach is both ahistorical, in that it reduces differences in approach between particular periods, not least in response to specific conjunctures, and also downplays a marked feature of George, namely his constitutionalism. Grounded firmly in an education in the principles and history of the country as understood in a Whig light, George was very different in this, and many other respects, to his two predecessors. He was capable of being a concerned Kurfürst (Elector of Hanover), a point that is now established, but also of being a king who understood the conditionality of his role, a point he underlined when discussing the claim of the Hanoverians as opposed to the Stuarts. Moreover, specialists in international relations understand the need to ‘mine’ beneath the ‘noise’ of report and rumour, as well as the plethora of goals and policies that may be in play, in order to grasp the key elements in prioritization. Hanover was definitely not the central issue in the early 1770s, whatever threat it might be imagined as likely to suffer as a consequence of British action. The situation was to be different by 1778, when war actually began in Germany, the Austro-Prussian War of Bavarian Succession (1778–9), but that was not the case in 1772. The second geopolitical dimension in the early 1770s was that of the relationship between the situation in Europe and Britain’s transoceanic situation. This was in large part a matter of French prioritization. D’Aiguillon set out deliberately to make concessions in colonial disputes with Britain in

Bristol Gazette and Public Advertiser, 30 April 1772. T.C.W. Blanning, ‘ “That Horrid Electorate” or “Ma Patrie Germanique”? George III, Hanover and the Fürstenbund of 1785,’ Historical Journal, 20 (1977), pp. 311–44 4 5

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order to improve relations and, in March 1772, taking forward a French suggestion of 1763 about Anglo-French co-operation against a partition of Poland,6 he proposed concerted pressure on Austria and Russia in order to thwart such a scheme. British interventionism thus was to be encouraged by making British ‘blue water’ anxieties unnecessary, a process in line with what had been the eventual French stance in the Falklands Crisis. Initially, the British government was cool. On 10 April 1772, Rochford informed Harcourt, the envoy in Paris, that George was disinclined ‘to embarrass himself’ with the affairs of Poland, and ‘still less to act a part in them in conjunction with France’. Moreover, the reality on the ground was crucial, and, on 16 July, Rochford told the Bavarian envoy that French complaints over the partition were the same as eating mustard after dinner.7 There were also imperial disputes. Thus, Harcourt was instructed to demand an explanation from the French ministry of its plans for forming settlements to the north of the River Gambia, which would interfere with the British gum trade, and of its dispatch of warships to the area. Moreover, there was pressure on France not to increase its forces in India.8 The government became more interested in the French proposal for cooperation, but was not united to that end, and, anyway, the interest was not to the extent necessary to give it traction. In addition, when the French-inclined Gustavus III staged a coup to strengthen monarchical authority in Sweden on 19 August 1772, bringing the Swedish ‘Age of Liberty’ to a close by seizing power from a ministry inclined to Russia and Britain, suspicion of France increased in Britain. Britain was now in the position of being opposed to two revisionist acts, those in Poland and Sweden, that looked in opposite directions in terms of international alignment; although it is unclear that the stance would necessarily have been any different had they looked in the same direction. The Swedish crisis lessened, but did not prevent, interest in a rapprochement with France which continued to be considered by George and Rochford. On 4 November, Horace St Paul, the perceptive Secretary of Embassy in Paris, reported on d’Aiguillon: I hope he is sincere in his professions to do everything in his power to preserve a good understanding between the two courts; he spoke to me again a few days ago, in very strong terms to that purpose, expressing in the warmest manner how much he wished it to subsist, and that all they wanted was d’être un peu consulté.9

6 Guerchy to Praslin, 28 Oct. 1763, AE. CP. Ang. 451 fols 473–43; Sandwich to Buckinghamshire, 28 Oct. 1763, NA. SP. 91/72. 7 Rochford to Harcourt, 10 Ap. 1772, NA. SP. 78/284 fols 303–4; Munich, London, 250, 17 July 1772. 8 NA. SP. 78/284 fols 27, 160–1, 282–3, 305. 9 Papers of St Paul, Northumberland CRO. ZBU B/46.

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However, George appears to have abandoned the idea in late October 1772, while Rochford was well aware that it was impracticable for domestic reasons to conduct public negotiations. A secret French mission to London in the spring of 1773 revealed the emptiness of French hopes, as the French needed more than half-hearted secret assurances from Britain. In the event, the British government had prioritized the challenge from France, which reflected the greater prospect of an improvement of relations with the partitioning powers, one, moreover, that would have been politically acceptable in Britain. In 1773, the pressure of events indeed led to threats to dissuade France from deploying its navy against Russia in the Baltic and Mediterranean. A British naval mobilization in April helped persuade the French to abandon plans for Mediterranean naval activity, a course assisted by tensions in Franco-Spanish relations. The British government was definitely not keen to fight France over the matter, but Britain linked its neutrality in the Russo-Turkish war to France remaining neutral.10 There was, indeed, an actuality and immediacy about French naval armaments that took precedence over talk of disturbing changes in the European system, and the latter did not suffice to drive Britain and France together, not least because mutual allies and common goals were absent. The clearly-expressed British desire for peace in Europe,11 one stated by George in his speeches to Parliament on 1 July 1773, and 13 January and 22 June 1774,12 did not appear to require an agreement with France. An historical ‘lapse-factor’ was of interest, in that the generation of decision-makers and leading politicians had come to political maturity during the years of conflict from 1739 to 1763. George had been dismayed that his grandfather, George II, would not let him serve against the French during the Seven Years’ War, but others had done so, for example Henry Conway, a Secretary of State in 1765–8, or Robert Murray Keith, a diplomat from 1769 to 1792, or, like Pitt and Grenville, had played a role in the war ministries. In contrast, those active during the Anglo-French alliance of 1716–31 were dead, notably George II (1760) and Newcastle (1768), and if Philip, 4th Earl of Chesterfield lived until 1773, he had no influence. Public politics in Britain did not focus on foreign affairs or strategy at this point. The debate in the Commons on 29 January 1772 on the number of seamen in the navy saw suspicion of the Bourbons and criticism of government policy, both traditional themes, but the motion was carried without a division. George had opened the session on 21 January with a declaration of confident caution:

Diede to Christian VII, 23 Ap. 1773, Rigs. 1772; M. Roberts, Essays in Swedish History (London, 1967), pp. 286–347. 11 Reporting Rochford, Diede to Osten, 12 Feb. 1773, Rigs. 1772. 12 Cobbett, XVII, 932, 936–7, 1408. 10

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The performance of the engagement of the King of Spain, in the restitution of Port Egmont and Falkland’s Island, and the repeated assurances I have received of the pacific disposition of that court, as well as of other powers, promise to my subjects the continuance of peace; and we may with the greater confidence hope that we shall not be disturbed in the enjoyment of this blessing, as there is no reason to apprehend that we shall become involved in the troubles which still unhappily prevail in one part of Europe.13 In contrast, Thomas Pownall, who also emphasized the challenge from France, told the Commons, that: so far from our being out of danger of being involved in the troubles of the remote part of Europe, there was every reason to think we must necessarily be involved. He then referred to the state of affairs at Constantinople, to present motions and designs of the King of Prussia, and to the danger which Danzig is in.14 In practice, parliamentary interest in developments elsewhere in Europe, including the First Partition of Poland, was limited,15 while, in the Commons’ debate in the Address on 26 November 1772, the mover of the motion, John Fitzpatrick, Earl of Upper Ossory, an Irish peer, applauded, with reference to the Russo-Turkish war of 1768–74, the absence of interventionism in British foreign policy.16 There was little energy behind foreign policy. In the summer of 1773, although there was great praise from the Danish envoy for Suffolk, Rochford was not regarded so favourably, and there was complaint about a lack of attentiveness by both Secretaries of State, who were allowed by George to stay on their county estates and attend to their estate business.17 With little public pressure, the government was able to take a position in Parliament that pleased the Bourbon powers, Stormont reporting in 1774 that d’Aiguillon had spoken: of what Lord North had said in Parliament, with regard to Falkland’s Island, with expressions of great pleasure and satisfaction, and added that he had that morning read the account to Monsieur d’Aranda [Spanish envoy], who was much pleased and took particular note of it.18

Cobbett, XVII, 232. Cobbett, XVII, 245. 15 D.B. Horn, British Public Opinion and the First Partition of Poland (Edinburgh, 1945). 16 Cobbett, XVIII, p. 521. 17 Diede to Christian VII, 14 May, Hanneken to Osten, 23, 30 July 1773, Rigs. 1772. 18 Stormont to Rochford, 2 Feb. 1774, NA. SP. 78/291 fol. 77. 13 14

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Possibly the ministry might have been more cautious in the handling of the American situation had relations with the Bourbons been more difficult, but, despite the failure to negotiate a new relationship in 1772–3, relations between Britain and France remained reasonably good;19 although there was also a continued emphasis on the value of vigilance, as in Stormont’s reports from Paris in March and May 1774.20 At the same time, the distrust frequently expressed about Choiseul in the late 1760s, notably by Rochford, Harcourt, and, in London, Weymouth,21 was very different to the tone of Stormont’s reports about d’Aiguillon who ‘talked a little upon the advantage that must accrue both nations, from persisting in the same pacific sentiments, the same wise plan of policy, which they had pursued of late, and which nothing but narrow national prejudice, could ever wish to change’.22 The European crises of 1772–3 helped explain why monarch and ministers were able to devote so much attention to the situation in the North American colonies. While serious, the situation was not necessarily fatal at this stage and, indeed, there were more immediate challenges to the British in the overseas world. Thus, in 1772–3, troops were deployed from North America as part of the expedition sent to settle the Carib question on the Caribbean island of St Vincent. In a parallel with that in North America, there was a three-way tension there between native Caribs, British settlers, who wished to see the Caribs lose their land, and the government which sought to contain as well as control the situation, all within a broader context of the regional presence of other European powers. A limited deployment in 1772–3 enabled the government to do so. The situation in North America was to develop very differently. One of George’s strengths was that he instinctually knew what his duty was, but a major weakness was that this conviction was not always illuminated by careful reflection. A lack of understanding of American colonial society and aspirations on the part of the imperial government, not least George and North, played a major role in the developing crisis. George might have ‘so perfect a knowledge of the state of his dominions’,23 but, like North, he did not grasp the degree to which the individual colonies were joining together in response to successive crises, making joint action on the part of the colonies increasingly an option. This failure of appreciation was exacerbated in 1774 by the view that concessions would be seen as weakness and lead only to fresh demands. Shocked by the Boston Tea Party on 16 December 1773, George supported a firm line, as he saw the status quo as no longer an

Stormont to St Paul, 5 Mar., 26 July, 10 Sept., 21 Oct. 1773, ZBU B 4/10. NA. SP. 78/291 fols 196–7, 292 fol. 56. 21 NA. SP. 78/275 fol. 116, 277 fol. 158, 276 fols 206–7. 22 NA. SP. 78/292 fol. 104. 23 P.O. Hutchinson (ed.), The Diary and Letters of His Excellency Thomas Hutchinson (2 vols, New York, I, 159). 19 20

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option, matters as beyond compromise, and leniency as destructive of order and good government. There was also the belief that a firm line would affect opinion in Britain, not least by overawing discontent, which reflected the sense that the Atlantic was scarcely dividing what was a common political community. In September 1772, General Thomas Gage, the Commander-in-Chief in North America, complained to William, 2nd Viscount Barrington, the Secretary at War, ‘Your papers are stuffed with infamous paragraphs which the American printers, especially those of Boston, seldom fail to copy with American additions,’ adding in July 1774, ‘The seditious here [Boston] have raised a flame in every colony which your speeches, writings, and protests in England have greatly encouraged.’24 Yet, there were also contrasts. The legislation of early 1774, the Coercive (or Intolerable) Acts, designed to punish Massachusetts, struck colonists, there and elsewhere, as an infringement of their charter rights; but the general election in Britain, held from 5 October to 10 November, sustained the position of the North ministry. After that success, no general election was necessary under the Septennial Act until 1781 or the death of the monarchy. George opposed any suspension of the Coercive Acts, a very widelyshared conviction strengthened by his probably mistaken belief that the repeal in 1766 of the Stamp Act of 1765 had caused many of the problems in North America. Moreover, committed to the constitution, and to a view of the necessary political, economic and ideological interdependence of the empire, George was not going to veto parliamentary legislation that affected American rights and interests, the course urged by Thomas Jefferson. The king, who wanted war avoided, nevertheless wrote to North ‘the die is now cast, the colonies must either submit or triumph’, later adding ‘The New England governments are in a state of rebellion . . . blows must decide whether they are to be subject to this country or independent.’25 The collapse of authority appeared to undermine Britain’s position as a great power. However, unlike the American crisis of 1754, the new crisis was insulated from diplomatic negotiations because it involved subjects and not another power. Yet insulation from diplomatic negotiations was not the same as from international relations, a point that was grasped. Critics of the firm line of the North ministry argued correctly that any conflict would be exploited by the Bourbons, and, on 20 January 1775, Chatham pressed for the withdrawal of the troops sent to intimidate Boston and presciently warned the Lords that France might exploit the situation.26

Gage to Barrington, 2 Sept. 1772, 18 July 1774, BL. Add. 73550. George to North, 11 Sept., 18 Nov. 1774, Fortescue, III, 131, 153. 26 R.R. Rea, ‘Anglo-American Parliamentary Reporting: A Case Study in Historical Bibliography’, Bibliographical Society of America, Papers, 49 (1955), pp. 224–8. 24 25

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There was also a broader linkage with international position, with both the supporters and the critics of government policy regarding American independence of action as a threat to the integrity of the British empire. The political, strategic and economic interdependencies of its constituent parts were taken as givens. It was widely accepted that the monopoly of American trade supported British power, most crucially in any conflict with the Bourbons, and that, without political links, it would be impossible to maintain economic relationships. Muddling through describes the situation in retrospect, because, at the time, the ministry felt that it was making proportionate responses, notably with naval preparations but not war, as in 1773 when persuading France that Britain was serious about its response to the Swedish crisis. Moreover, the very absence of war meant that Britain was able to respond to difficulties, as when threatening conflict with Spain in 1770, or sending forces to America once rebellion had begun in 1775. The degree of planning was a different matter, although it is necessary to appreciate the degree to which optimal solutions were politically constructed. This point is amply demonstrated in the case of threatening war with France in the late 1760s and early 1770s. North was notoriously cautious, but not necessarily wrongly so, as the domestic fiscal and political support was not obviously there for war. Rochford, who knew that France was in a difficult fiscal condition and that that might well ensure that a threat of war from Britain was likely to have more effect, was more inclined to threaten war, but as a way to preserve the peace. Yet, the wisdom of this stance, and the managerial problems it posed, are matters for debate, nor proven truths. In addition, there is scant sign of what in modern terms would be regarded as contingency planning, but to complain about such an absence would be anachronistic as it was not an aspect of the British system then. Furthermore, as the forthcoming war was to show, unpredictability was to the fore, and to be seen in military, political and international developments.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Strategies Under Pressure, 1775–8 The American Revolution was a defeat and a disaster for Britain. The interlinked processes of military and diplomatic strategy did not work successfully in the face of a novel challenge. The war also transformed the empire, including the geographical balance of commitments, the understanding of the North American role in the empire, and the wider practice of trade-offs in prioritization between the varied spheres of imperial activity. George III understood the distinction between battle and war, and appreciated that victory in the former would not ensure success in the latter, but he underestimated the difficulty of getting the Patriots (the term used for Americans in rebellion) to accept that they might have lost sufficiently to ensure negotiations, and also failed to appreciate the depths of the strategic dilemma posed by Bourbon entry into the war in 1778. In response, his politics ensured that the war could not be reconceptualized as a struggle with the Bourbons, the course urged by the opposition, and one that would have freed the British from the strategic incubus of conflict in America, for George was still determined to defeat the Patriots. Earlier in the conflict, flexibility for Britain was enhanced by the highly unusual situation of not being already at war. Indeed, in this respect, geopolitics and strategy were as one. The question was not simply one of alternative commitment on the Continent, as in Germany and, after French intervention, Portugal during the Seven Years’ War, but more significantly no need in 1775–7, unlike in 1756–9, to consider the threat of invasion, which was an unintended consequence of diplomatic isolation. That was a crucial issue because the manpower required for such a defensive task was immense, as it entailed defending all possible invasion sites in England and Ireland. So also with the need for naval support. The war in America pushed wartime issues rapidly to the fore as priorities in foreign policy: a search for powers which would hire troops to Britain and an attempt to prevent maritime powers from trading with the rebels, 121

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and otherwise supporting them. In 1775, Russia refused an approach for 20,000 troops, but treaties to that end were signed with a number of German states, principally Hesse-Cassel, which had a tradition of co-operation with the British military. Meanwhile, alongside suspicions and tensions, Anglo-French relations remained relatively good until 1776. Although the British ministry was sorry that the death of Louis XV in 1774 led to the fall of d’Aiguillon, the new administration was clearly pacific and largely concerned with domestic problems. In turn, the British were careful to offend neither France nor Spain, and also promoted a peaceful settlement of Portuguese-Spanish frontier differences in South America, avoiding Portugal’s effort to pull Britain in on its behalf. In essence, in 1775–8, the defence of empire was moved from the British Isles to North America, both the Thirteen Colonies that rebelled and Canada which the Americans invaded in 1775–6 and, after being driven out in 1776, subsequently threatened. Yet, in practice, the context during the American War of Independence was very different to the challenge of French invasion plans in 1759, for in America there was rather a repetition of the combination faced in the British Isles in 1689–1746, that of foreign invasion (in the new case only from 1778) combined with Jacobite insurrection. That combination transformed the military challenge and its political counterpart. In particular, there was the need not only to defeat opponents but to prevent the leaching of backing from supporters to neutrals, and also from neutrals to opponents. Like the Jacobite risings, the American War of Independence was a civil war, albeit a civil war in a different context and with another ideology to the fore, one that was at once conservative in its opposition to the supposed authoritarian changes of George and his government, and yet revolutionary in its solution in the shape of independence. As such, the American War of Independence was like the Dutch Revolt in the late sixteenth century. The defenders of coercion called it an ‘unnatural rebellion’. North’s plan in 1776–7 was to persuade or force each individual colony to make a separate agreement to accept his peace proposal of 1775 allowing each colony to tax itself to Parliament’s satisfaction. For the British government, the management of the revolution was further complicated by the degree to which there was support for the cause in the British Isles, and especially so before there was alliance from 1778 between the Patriots and France, an alliance that compromised the Patriot cause in the eyes of British supporters. On top of that, there was the need to act to prevent any such alliance. Thus, there were strategic quandaries. In 1776, they encouraged the dispatch of a major force which was designed to give force to the commanders, with instructions to negotiate as well as fight. On 11 September occurred the sole meeting between officially appointed representatives of the two sides before the final peace negotiations. The Declaration of Independence, only recently issued, proved, however, to be the stumbling block. Admiral Richard

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Howe declared that it prevented him from negotiating and that he could not acknowledge Congress as it was not recognized by the King. The unyielding Patriot delegates stressed the bedrock importance of independence. This failure obliged the British to try to transform the terms of discussion by means of military success, and encouraged the dramatic step of advancing on Philadelphia, the capital of the revolution, which became the key goal in 1777. Although strategy was thus clear, the operational dimension, to use another later term, was not, while the problem of the management of operations was serious. Thus, in May, Lord George Germain, the Secretary of State and an experienced, though discredited, soldier, wrote to General William Howe: As you must from your situation and military skill be a competent judge of the propriety of every plan, His Majesty does not hesitate to approve the alterations which you propose; trusting, however, that whatever you may meditate, it will be executed in time for you to cooperate with the army ordered to proceed from Canada, and put itself under your command.1 In practice, it was very difficult to direct operations from a distance for, as Major General William Phillips noted in July 1777: ‘plans of war made in a Cabinet at several thousand miles distant from the scene of action are not always good’.2 This situation made it easier, instead, to envisage any war with the Bourbons in which the key clashes occurred in European rather than distant waters, but, even then, the same factors pertained. While Phillips was correct, the situation might have been eased by more coherence in London to overcome competing departmental agendas, notably between army and navy. That was a longstanding problem that was exacerbated by operating at a distance. An absence of unity in command in London was matched by the same, both in the New World and, more specifically, in North America. However, perception is significant, as coherence can be interpreted, both at the time and subsequently, as inflexibility, not least given the scale of operations. Prior to French entry into the American war in 1778, the geopolitics of British power were able to sustain the transoceanic struggle and to contain, but not overcome, the revolution. Victory in particular campaigns could not be secured, as the unsuccessful advance southward by General Burgoyne in the Hudson Valley in 1777 amply demonstrated. Nevertheless, British forces had driven the Patriots from Canada and taken New York in 1776, going on to capture Philadelphia in 1777. The Royal Navy was strong enough to decide where to land troops in North America, which, in 1776, included Canada, New York, and (unsuccessfully) Charleston, and few British supply ships were lost to American attack. The political strategy to end the

1 2

Germain to Howe, 18 May 1777, NA. PRO. 30/8/5. Nottingham, University Library, Clumber Papers, 2, 810.

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revolution had not yet worked, but the military pressure was being maintained. The long-term consequences of this were uncertain. Given that the determination to maintain independence had been sustained despite serious defeats in 1776–7, British policy can be seen as a failure to understand the situation there and to devise a relevant strategy. At the same time, war weariness and resource issues were both major problems for the Patriots; and as the American Civil War was to show, a determination to fight did not necessarily equate with success. Defeat at Saratoga in 1777 and the eventual failure at Yorktown in 1781 have distorted the analysis of British campaigning. Flexibility and mobility were to the fore for the British as with the capture of New York in 1776, the flanking manoeuvre at Brandywine in 1777, the rapid capture of Savannah in 1778, the encirclement of Charleston in 1780, and the march across North Carolina in early 1781. However, Britain had no levers to influence, let alone determine, French policy, and, in 1778, France began a conflict in a far more purposed and considered fashion than the engagement commencement of 1754 that had similarly started conflict with Britain in North America. French policy had altered in 1776 when a ministerial debate between advocates of peace, led by the Contrôlleur Général des Finances, Anne Robert Jacques Turgot, who presciently pressed the importance of financial reform, and those, led by the foreign minister, Charles, Count of Vergennes, who saw an opportunity to defeat Britain, was won by the latter. On 2 May, Louis XVI agreed to provide one million livres in secret aid to the rebels; Turgot was dismissed ten days later, as a result largely of Court and ministerial opposition on issues of power and patronage. At any rate, France began planning for war and strengthening her navy. The British were swiftly aware of the latter as a result of their excellent intelligence network, and their anxiety about France increased, fostered by the rise in French aid to the rebels, critically arms and gunpowder, the use of French ports by American privateers, and the arrival of a number of American agents in Paris. Anglo-French relations continued to deteriorate, especially over the issue of French help to privateers, and, in June 1777, the British navy was instructed to search any French ships encountered near America. France stepped up her naval preparations and her efforts to win Spanish support. With war apparently near, the British responded by seeking to delay French intervention until they had won in America. They switched in July from their earlier moderation to threats designed to intimidate. These succeeded in distancing France from the privateers in August–September, but French caution was intended to preserve peace until the situation was deemed ripe for war and did not preclude increased preparations. The news of the British surrender at Saratoga on 17 October 1777, which marked the total defeat of the plan for crushing the rebellion by advancing from Canada along the Hudson Valley and isolating New England, reached Europe in early December. Alongside the American ability, shown in the

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battle of Germantown on 4 October, to recover from defeat at Brandywine and the loss of Philadelphia, and to still mount attacks, this provided an opportune moment for France, whose navy had been considerably strengthened, to increase her support for the Americans. Vergennes overcame Louis XVI’s hesitation, and formal Franco-American negotiations were begun. They were to lead to treaties of commerce and alliance signed on 6 February 1778. The French treaties amounted to a declaration of war as the Patriots were regarded as rebels in London. On 17 March, Vergennes wrote to France’s envoy in London, ordering him to leave London, although France did not formally declare war until July. French naval expenditure rose from 20 million livres in 1774 to 202 million in 1778. Outside Europe, the war between Britain and France was to be essentially between two maritime powers, unlike that between Britain and Spain from 1779 as the latter had the depth of a Continental power in the New World. The context, however, was now different as the American Patriots provided such depth for the French. The outbreak of hostilities led to a revival in British attempts to win allies on the Continent, where the situation appeared more volatile as a result of the growing crisis over the Bavarian succession. In February 1778, Britain offered Russia an alliance that included a subsidy, although no provision for military assistance in the event of a Russo-Turkish war. The Russians rejected the approach, while British hopes that the French alliance with Austria would lead to her becoming entangled in a Continental war were disabused by the French refusal to support her ally against Prussia. George’s opposition to any Austrian acquisition of Bavaria, combined with concern over the security of always-vulnerable Hanover, led him to respond favourably in April 1778 to Prussian approaches. Britain offered Prussia an alliance and, in return for Prussian protection of Hanover, a subsidy, but, reassured about Russian and French attitudes, Frederick II did not respond. Meanwhile, the attempt to improve relations with Berlin had led to a certain amount of uncertainty among British diplomats. Britain, however, was not of central concern for Austria, Prussia and Russia, any more than she had been in 1756 when the Seven Years’ War began in Europe. Britain’s views on the Bavarian Succession were regarded as of little consequence and were certainly of far less importance than those of France. Moreover, the increased gap between the armed forces of the major and those of the minor powers helped to ensure that the views of German states, such as Hanover, were of less significance than they had been earlier in the century. Charles Jenkinson, who became Secretary at War in 1778, warned the Commons that: the great military powers in the interior parts of Europe, who have amassed together their great treasures, and have modelled their subjects into great armies, will in the next and succeeding periods of time, become the predominant powers. France and Great Britain, which have been the

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first and second-rate powers of the European world, will perhaps for the future be but of the third and fourth rate.3 In contrast to previous conflicts, however, there was not the need during the War of American Independence for Britain to maintain the support of European allies. Troops anyway were available to Britain for hire in Germany, notably, but not only, Hessians, and that despite the lack of a significant Continental ally. Care, however, had to be taken to avoid creating an excuse of opportunity, for an invasion of Hanover by France was still possible, and the Electorate was just as vulnerable as in 1741 and 1757. The thesis that alliance would have won Britain a distraction of French commitment both underrates French independence in decision making and minimizes the potential cost of intervention to Britain. Moreover, the risk of an attack on Hanover might have come to the fore as a result of such an alliance. Any alliance would have had consequences that might have led to difficulties had this war in Europe worked out differently, but, in the event, the War of the Bavarian Succession (1778–9) remained both a separate conflict to the War of American Independence, and a conflict that could be kept separate. The underlying attitude of the government was to be shown in its dying days, in February 1782, when Stormont, the Foreign Secretary, asking about the possibility of war between Russia and Turkey over Crimea, added: ‘As this is a business in which we have no direct concern, we should let it take its own course, and not show the least solicitude about it.’4 This was very much part of the foreign policy of the North ministry, and it helped identify it with the Tory theme in foreign policy.5 Yet, while plausible, that analysis needs to be supplemented by the observation that other ministers whom would not be regarded as Tories could share some of these views. Thus, Sir Robert Murray Keith, envoy in Vienna received a similar instruction three months later from Charles James Fox with respect to a war in the Balkans: . . . the whole system of Europe is at present so uncertain, and this country at this moment so totally unconnected with that system, that it is impossible to judge whether such an event is to be wished or feared, or, if it should take place, what conduct it would be expedient for us to hold.6

Cobbett, XIX, 948. Stormont to Keith, 12 Feb. 1782, NA. FO. 7/4. 5 J. Black (ed.), The Tory World: Deep History and the Tory Theme in British Foreign Policy, 1679–2014 (Farnham, 2015). 6 Fox to Keith, 10 May 1782, NA. FO. 7/4. 3 4

CHAPTER EIGHT

Strategies Collapse, 1778–82 In 1778, the war not so much broadened out, an American perspective, but was transformed into a global struggle, when France came in on the side of the Americans. Under pressure from French entry, the British felt obliged to abandon Philadelphia, and to move to a more cautious stance in North America, although the necessary strategic reassessment after French entry into the war became inevitable following the Franco-American treaty was not carried out because of an unwillingness to alter the objectives of the war.1 Moreover, Spain’s entry into the war on the side of France and the Patriots in 1779 further increased the strain for Britain. The relations that were to be important for Britain in 1779–80 were indeed those with Spain and the United Provinces (Netherlands), rather than with the powers of Eastern Europe. The ministry sought through negotiations to keep Spain neutral, but the Spaniards were less concerned with British views than with what France was willing to offer in return for Spain’s entry into the war. When France promised to fight on until Spain obtained Gibraltar, which Britain had held since 1704, the Spaniards signed the Convention of Aranjuez with her in April 1779, recalled their envoy from London the following month, and began preparations for a Franco-Spanish invasion of Britain. By 16 August, the joint fleet was menacing Britain. In the event, disease on board led to the abandonment of the attempt. The war in America stabilized to a degree in 1779, the last year of major campaigning near New York. A modus vivendi was developing, with the Patriots in New England and Philadelphia, the British in Canada and New York, and the South a new area of opportunity and manoeuvre. However, alongside the obvious focus on that war, a serious crisis had blown up in India. Distance and the arm’s-length place of the British government in India arising from the central role of the East India Company helped keep this from the centre of public attention. Nevertheless, alongside the French

1 K.J. Weddle, ‘ “A Change of Both Men and Measures”: British Reassessment of Military Strategy after Saratoga, 1777–1778’, Journal of Military History, 77 (2013), pp. 837–65.

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attacks on Caribbean sugar islands, the situation in India was a fundamental threat to the political economy, and therefore geopolitics, of British imperial strength. The British had faced challenges in different parts of India during the Seven Years’ War, and, arguably, although such comparisons were and are always difficult, the French siege of Madras in 1758–9 was more serious, not least because the context was that of a Britain with as yet only a precarious position in Bengal. Nevertheless, the situation became newly grave from 1778. In western India, a conflict with the Marathas in 1775–6 had left a peace that was unsatisfactory to both sides. Seeking then to emulate the gains made in Bengal, Bombay, the poorest and therefore weakest of the Presidencies, was drawn into struggles between the Maratha leaders. An advance on Pune (Poona) led to the British force being surrounded and, on 16 January 1779, signing a convention at Wadgaon that provided for the withdrawal of the army to Bombay. It is understandable that Saratoga instead takes precedence; the Marathas, unlike the Americans, were to be totally defeated by Britain in later wars. However, the two campaigns indicated similarities in the ‘frictions’ affecting well-trained forces from the world’s most wide-ranging military power. Such a force could only achieve so much, especially if on difficult terrain, in the face of considerably more numerous opponents and with limited ‘situational awareness’ or reconnaissance. In India, the situation was more difficult because the British could not match their opponent’s light cavalry,2 which was not an issue in North America. Subsequently, a British force that, in an impressive feat of arms, had marched 785 miles from Bengal to Surat in 1778–9, much of it in the face of opposition, was able to exert considerable pressure on the Marathas, notably in 1780, but the war was both costly and in 1781 a renewed British offensive was thwarted with heavy losses. The need to fight Mysore at the same time was a major consideration, as was the effectiveness of the Maratha forces. The Treaty of Salbai of May 1782 ended the war, with most British gains restored to the Marathas. Meanwhile, the suppression of the rebellion of Raja Chayt Singh in Benares in 1781 helped by reducing the pressure on the British forces in Bengal. Anglo-Maratha hostilities had encouraged Haidar Ali of Mysore to attack and, in July 1780, he invaded the Carnatic. On 10 September 1780, a British force was crushed at Perumbakam, its men deployed in a defensive square, defeated by repeated attacks while also under cannon fire. The Mysore forces then pressed into the Carnatic, devastating the land. In addition, France landed 3,000 troops to help Haidar Ali. The numbers sent were lessened, however, by Vergennes’ success in thwarting the bold plans of the Ministers of War and the Marine, as well as by scurvy and British

2 G.J. Bryant, ‘The cavalry problem in the early British Indian army, 1750–1785’, War in History, 2 (1995), pp. 1–21.

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blockaders.3 Had Charles, Marquis de Bussy reached India, as Rochambeau did in America in 1780, without delay, with healthy troops, with the 10,000 men he had requested, and with all his artillery, he would have been more likely to achieve his objectives, not least because, although the British Admiralty did not know this, Admiral Pierre André Suffren was a better naval commander than de Grasse, his counterpart in the Western Hemisphere. However, the most knowledgeable reports sent by French agents in India in the 1770s claimed that religious, political and caste rivalries among the native powers would prevent a coalition of the three major ones (Mysore, Hyderabad and the Maratha Confederacy) against the British, and that, if France made any treaty with one, it would throw the other two into British arms. Despite these warnings, the French, notably the Minister of the Marine, sought to strike in India as they had in North America. To rescue the situation, Bengal sent troops and funds in 1781, serving as a resource for the war in the Carnatic rather as Britain did for that in the New World. A series of successes by Eyre Coote saved Madras, but there were then differences of opinion over whether to focus on Mysore or the French, and, on 18 February 1782, another British force was surrounded and defeated by Mysore, this time near the Coleroon river. Moreover, the regional situation was made more difficult in 1782 when Suffren arrived in Indian waters, providing a far more formidable challenge to the British than the Dutch had been. In a series of naval battles from 17 February 1782 to 20 June 1783, British naval forces under Edward Hughes were put under great pressure, although with no decisive defeat. In contrast, whatever Mysore’s naval plans might have led to in the future were cut short by successful British action in 1783. Meanwhile, the war had spread in Europe, the Caribbean and Asia, for disputes with the Dutch over their trade with Britain’s enemies and over the reception of American privateers embittered relations. The once close alliance, a central feature since William III’s takeover of Britain in 1688–9, had been a casualty of the Austro-French alignment in the Diplomatic Revolution of 1756, which made the defence of the Low Countries against France no longer credible diplomatically or militarily. Alongside that geopolitical failure, Dutch financial exhaustion, war-weariness and domestic divisions, had been crucial, as well as a lack of Dutch support for Britain’s colonial and maritime position. Although, in parallel with those with Austria and Russia, relations were no longer close, British ministers continued to assume that they could, and should, be. The British believed that, under the defensive treaty of 1678, they were entitled to Dutch help against the Bourbons in the American war, while the Dutch were angered by British treatment of their merchantmen. Crucially, the pro-British Orange party was not influential.

3

S.P. Sen, The French in India, 1763–1816 (Calcutta, 1958).

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The cause of neutral trade, a key element in any blockade, was taken up by Catherine II who saw it as a possible source of influence for Russia. Having rejected in the winter of 1779–80, the British idea of a Russian mediation, Catherine issued a Declaration of Neutral Rights in March 1780 that was designed to protect neutral shipping from British maritime pretensions which were widely disliked in Europe. Denmark and Sweden joined the Armed Neutrality that July, and the British, aware of negotiations for Dutch accession, declared war on the Dutch on 20 December 1780, hoping to end their supply of crucial Baltic naval stores to France before they could accede and thus acquire a Russian guarantee. The British ministry anticipated that this Fourth Anglo-Dutch war, at once naval and colonial, would somehow lead to the revival of the pro-British Orangist party, as defeat in 1672 and 1747 had led to a revival of Orangist power, but these hopes were to be disappointed. Instead, the Orangist party did not regain control until 1787, and then only after a British-backed Prussian invasion. George associated himself with the war effort in 1778 by visiting the naval dockyards at Chatham and a crowded Portsmouth, where the fleet was fitting out, as well as military encampments. As a result, he was seen by a large number of his subjects, writing to North about his ‘thorough satisfaction at the manner in which I have been received by all ranks of people on my late tour’.4 In 1780, the exhibition of the Royal Academy displayed Benjamin West’s resolute Portrait of His Majesty (1779), showing George in military uniform and holding a document. Less positively, Britain was not gaining allies, although, replying in June 1779 to criticisms of the government for the absence of foreign allies, Alexander Wedderburn, the Attorney General, realistically refuted the idea: as if it were in their power to oblige foreign courts to enter into alliances with Great Britain . . . no state would enter into an alliance with another unless it stood in need of some assistance, which the other had it in its powers to afford . . . the necessity was solely on our side, and therefore it was not at all to be wondered at, that other courts were not much inclined to enter into alliance with us.5 Other European powers had recently faced popular opposition, particularly Spain in 1766, France in Corsica in 1768–9, and, most seriously, Russia with the Pugachev Rising in 1773–4, but none of these were successful, no more than other colonial rebellions in this period except the American one. The American Patriots included many not in the élite,6 but that popular

George to North, 5 Oct. 1778, RA. GEO/3089. Cobbett, XX, 945. 6 T. Breen, American Insurgents, American Patriots: The Revolution of the People (New York, 2010). 4 5

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dimension was scarcely unusual. Instead, it was the élite leadership that helped win international acceptance, and that was highly significant in explaining why the American revolutionaries were uniquely successful as far as the 1760s and 1770s were concerned. The distinctive feature was that of French intervention, which was highly contingent. This intervention helped counteract the strain affecting the Patriots whose war effort under British attack was close to collapse by 1781. Contrast between the two Anglo-French wars we discuss is almost guaranteed by thinking in terms of the gain and loss of America; although, in practice, of course, for the language used is totally misleading, in each case of only part of North America then settled by Europeans. The War of American Independence was to be presented as an unmitigated disaster to Britain, and certainly it led to a change that was far longer lasting than the Civil Wars and Interregnum of the 1640s and 1650s. At the same time, comparison suggests, at least to a degree, a somewhat more complex account. In 1754, Britain had begun conflict with France, and the initial stages had been very unsuccessful,7 only for the situation eventually to be completely transformed. A parallel in the case of the War of American Independence would begin in 1778 and point out that the early stages of the conflict with France were similarly unsuccessful, most notably in the inability of the Royal Navy to defeat the French fleet and, conversely, of French successes in the Caribbean. The British had an opportunity to destroy the French Brest fleet off Ushant on 27 July 1778, but this was to be no repetition of the triumph at Quiberon Bay. As off Minorca in 1756, the British off Ushant suffered from a poorly-prepared fleet, with crew, captains and admirals all working up to achieve fighting effectiveness. Moreover, thanks in large part to the combination of the wind and the poor manoeuvrability of warships, naval battles frequently did not develop as suggested by fighting instructions, and admirals had only limited control once battles had begun. John Blankett, a 4th Lieutenant on Admiral Augustus Keppel’s flagship HMS Victory, captured a dependence on wind direction that helped make the battle indecisive: Your Lordship will recollect that the forcing a fleet to action, equal in force, and with the advantage of the wind must always be done with great risk, and our fleet was not equal to that manoeuvre, but chance, which determines many events, put it out of the Admiral’s power to choose his disposition. . . . The French behaved more like seamen, and more officerlike than was imagined they would do . . . the truth is, unless two fleets of equal force are equally determined for battle, whoever attacks must do it with infinite risk, but a fleet to leeward attacking one to windward is a dangerous manoeuvre indeed.8 G. Yagi, The Struggle for North America, 1754–1758: Britannia’s Tarnished Laurels (London, 2016). 8 Blankett to Shelburne, 29 July 1778, BL. Bowood, 511 fols 9–11. 7

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At the same time, there were also divisions among senior naval officers, reflected in recriminations and courts-martial. Ushant was very much an opportunity lost, as 1778 was the sole year of the naval war in which Britain only had to fight France. Thanks to much shipbuilding in the late 1760s and 1770s, by 1780 France and Spain combined had a quantitative superiority in naval tonnage over Britain of about 25 per cent. Partly as a result, 1778 was a key year, and, more generally, Britain was unable to repeat the success of the Seven Years’ War when Spain had not entered the war until 1762. For Britain, the problem of aggregate numbers of warships interacted with uncertainty over French preparedness. There was no clear strategic doctrine, and disputes as to the desirability of blockading French ports, never an easy task and one for which there were arguably insufficient ships, clashed with the prudent policy of John, 4th Earl of Sandwich, the First Lord of the Admiralty, that naval strength should be concentrated in home waters, which was presented as necessary in order to deter invasion and, linked to that, as posing a serious challenge to the main French fleet, which was based nearby at Brest. This goal would be compromised by dispersing much of the fleet among distant stations, where it could back amphibious operations and protect trade but could not materially affect the struggle for naval dominance. Concentration versus dispersal was a particular problem for transoceanic military systems, but most of all for Britain which depended on the navy ultimately for its security against invasion. The commanders of distant stations were difficult to control effectively, and they jealously guarded their autonomy and resources, producing an inflexibility that was ill-suited to the need to react to French initiatives.9 The concentration of naval strength in home waters, however, ensured that France’s Mediterranean naval base, Toulon, was not blockaded, and in 1778 the Toulon fleet was able to sail into American waters and unexpectedly threaten the British position in New York, although it did not press home the attack. Yet, by way of posing a caveat, two alternative chronologies can then be added, each serving to underline the general point that in many wars associated with failure, for example for Britain the Crimean War (1854–6) and the Boer War (1899–1902), as well as the two world wars of the twentieth century, the British military went on to overcome earlier flaws. This may seem revisionism pushed too far, for the 1778–83 war was undoubtedly a failure for Britain, but is instructive conceptually; while the situation in both 1780 and 1782 (but not 1781) definitely saw a measure of recovery for Britain, recovery that was to continue after the war. In the former, the British retained the confidence as well as the capability to mount a major and successful expedition against Charleston, one, moreover, that

N.A.M. Rodger, The Insatiable Earl: A life of John Montagu, 4th Earl of Sandwich (London, 1993), pp. 365–77.

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unravelled the Patriot position in South Carolina and, more generally, challenged it across the South. When combined with the failure of the Franco-Patriot attempt in 1779 to regain Savannah from the British, this lessened the prospect for successful Franco-Patriot coordination. Thus, Britain was managing more than a ‘backs to the wall’ position. Indeed, the approach in South Carolina was part of what would later be termed ‘hearts and minds’. An aspect of what can be seen as the modernity of British warmaking, this approach reflected the extent to which the British government wanted the Patriots to return to their loyalty, rather than to be defeated but continue ready to rebel. So also with British recovery in 1782 when, at last, there was a crucial naval success, one that transformed the situation in the Caribbean. This was important because British positions that could be relieved by sea, such as Québec in 1776 and Gibraltar in 1779–83, were held, while those that were not relieved, such as Pensacola and Yorktown in 1781, and Minorca in 1782, were lost. Conversely, the British attempt to capture Cape Town from the Dutch in 1781 was thwarted by the arrival of French warships en route for the Indian Ocean. There was a British naval attempt to relieve besieged Yorktown, but Rear-Admiral Thomas Graves failed to defeat the French off the Virginia Capes. This was an indecisive battle in terms of the damage inflicted on either side, but, as it prevented the relief of Cornwallis’s besieged army at Yorktown, an important success for the French. Even so, despite the disastrous surrender of the army at Yorktown on 19 October 1781, the Patriots were in no position in 1782 to drive the British from Charleston, still less New York, let alone Canada. It was apparent that the headline of British failure would be followed by a compromise peace for North America; which, indeed, despite British failure outside Baltimore (1814) and New Orleans (1815), prefigured, the situation in 1814–15 at the end of the War of 1812. The strategic equation definitely did not suggest that Britain had to have Continental allies in order to survive, and Austria was certainly not going to abandon France; while neither Frederick the Great nor Catherine the Great saw their interest in co-operating with Britain. Its very difficulties made it less attractive as an ally, while France’s neutrality in the War of the Bavarian Succession of 1778–9 meant that no other power required an ally to counteract France. Rather than Britain determining options for France, there was a degree of the opposite, although that is to underrate the independent agency of the other European powers. Assessing British strategy as a power fighting alone requires attention to the specific geopolitical novelty of the period: the Franco-Patriot alliance. Albeit with a very different ideological context and content, this was a new version of previous French interventions in the British world. In contrast, there was no foreign intervention on behalf of the major rebellion against Spanish rule in the New World, the Great Rebellion in Peru in 1780–1. Headed by José Gabriel Túpac Amaru, a descendant of the last Inca rulers,

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and fired by millenarian beliefs as well as opposition to the rigorous collection of taxes, the uprising was suppressed, but only after more than 100,000 people had died. The Jacobites, whom France had supported from 1689 to 1759 when at war with Britain, had completely lacked strategic depth because, after the Treaty of Limerick of 30 October 1691, they did not control any of the British Isles. In contrast, like Scotland when it had been independent and a French ally from the thirteenth to sixteenth centuries, the Patriots had this element of strategic depth. This provided them with durability and entailed, from the French perspective, a sustained diversion of British resources, both army and naval. The prudential reasons arising from the difficulties of subjugating the Patriots10 supported the more general one of the need for political-cultural reconciliation in order to maintain the Anglosphere; but gave more force to the opposition’s arguments for doing so by abandoning offensive operations in North America in order to focus on the Bourbons. This was Chatham’s argument in the Lords in November and December 1777, and in his last parliamentary appearance on 7 April 1778. The news of a treaty between France and America lent impetus to calls for flexibility in goals as well as means. Charles, 1st Earl Camden, another opposition peer, had pointed out in February 1778 that ‘ministers who had all along contended for unconditional submission’ were forced to consider ‘plans of conciliation’.11 The geopolitical threat, at once a challenge for the British and an opportunity for the French, was one the British could not overcome as the Patriots rejected peace proposals, notably those made by the Howe brothers in 1776 and the Carlisle Commission of 1779; retained their cohesion, despite serious divisions among their military leaders; and were able to fight on. This was the case even when they were at an impasse in the Middle Colonies from 1779 and heavily defeated, in the South, particularly with the surrender of Charleston on 12 May 1780 and with defeat at Camden on 16 August. This sequential combination of circumstances ensured that British strategies, both military and political, failed. The failure was to be taken far further as a result of defeat at Yorktown, but, already, there was the failure of a lack of closure prior to that British defeat. The analogy, although all comparisons face difficulties, was with the failure in 1814, during the War of 1812, both of the British advance on the Lake Champlain axis and of the threat to Baltimore, each of which occurred prior to the negotiation of the Peace of Ghent, unlike defeat at the battle of New Orleans. Yet, at the same time, the Bourbons had found the War of American Independence more expensive and less successful than anticipated.

10 11

K. Weddle, The Compleat Victory: Saratoga and the American Revolution (New York, 2021). Cobbett, XIX, 740.

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Compromise was necessary, but that was not what was wanted by George who was never a born compromiser. His personal anguish was apparent before Yorktown, which, to a degree, provoked in Britain the necessary outcome of a redrawing of the situation. Already, there had been negotiations, and these could have turned out differently. Gibraltar proved the stumbling block in Anglo-Spanish negotiations that lasted from November 1779 until March 1781. Secret negotiations with France in the summer and late 1780 were hampered by the British refusal to discuss the position of the Americans with a third party and by the French determination to obtain American independence. British hostility to the intervention of a third power, helped ensure that Austrian and Russian attempts to mediate were unsuccessful,12 as was that of Russia during the War of 1812. So were British offers in early 1781 of support for the opening of the Scheldt and of Minorca, to Austria and Russia respectively, in order to win their alliance; offers that were both unrealistic in themselves and based on a total misreading of the attitudes and policies of the two powers. At the same time, there was reason in the British argument that Austria, Spain, the Dutch and Russia were neglectful of their interests, Austria because it would not benefit from a mighty France, Spain because of the example of American rebellion for its own colonies, the Dutch because of the French threat to their colonies,13 notably Cape Town, and Russia because of French support for the Turks. Frederick II’s animus to Britain was clear.14 Defeat totally altered the situation, with the political dimension to the fore. The North ministry could have survived the loss of West Florida and the failure to relieve Minorca, which was invaded in August 1781 (the garrison surrendered on 6 February 1782), but Yorktown led to the desertion of North by independent MPs. There was no equivalent to the domestic issues of 1780 – the Yorkshire Association, the Gordon Riots, and a general election – to distract attention from the war. Yorktown, which, in an echo of the fate of Minorca in 1756, showed, moreover, that the navy could not necessarily relieve isolated forces, had a very different domestic impact to Saratoga, and also encouraged France to continue its efforts. On 27 February 1782, the government lost a Commons’ motion relating to the further prosecution of the war in America, there was the pressure of news of fresh losses, notably Minorca, St Kitts and St Lucia, and on 20 March, North announced his resignation.

12 Thurlow memorandum, 31 July 1780, on Keith-Kaunitz discussions, Bonham Books, catalogue for 15 Ap. 1991 sale, lot no. 123; Frederick II to Baron Bernhard von der Goltz, envoy in Paris, 25 Feb. 1782, Polit. Corr. 46, p. 509. See also M.L. Brown, American Independence Through Prussian Eyes: A Neutral View of the Peace Negotiations of 1782–1783 (Durham, NC., 1959). 13 Stormont to Keith, 12, 23 Feb. 1782, NA. FO. 7/4. 14 Frederick II to Görtz, envoy in St Petersburg, 9 Mar., and to Duke of Brunswick, 10 Mar. 1782, Polit. Corr. 46, pp. 530, 533.

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From the perspective, however, suggested earlier, of victory turning up at last, the British acceptance of failure in America was too early, not least as war-weariness was growing in the French ministry. Alongside the heavy cost of the war, came the awareness that France had already obtained the gains it was likely to win, notably American independence and a few colonial advantages, while fighting on for the sake of its ally, Spain, was implausible given the failure of the latter to win Gibraltar or Jamaica. Yet, even had the dramatic British naval victory at the battle of the Saintes, near Guadeloupe, on 12 April 1782 come earlier, or the French, now increasingly concerned about Russian dominance in Eastern Europe, signalled a stronger determination to leave the war, it is difficult to see how Britain, in the face of Patriot determination, could have achieved its goals in North America. This was another instance of the bifurcation discussed earlier, in this case between the British war in North America and the broader conflict with France. At the same time, irrespective of this point, Britain, under a multipronged attack, had to spread its forces out on defensive duties, which lessened the possibility of assembling an expeditionary force. The need to confront a number of challenges around the world placed considerable burdens on the ability to control and allocate resources and to make accurate threat assessments. The need also raised issues of strategic understanding that were exacerbated by poor communications. Disagreements were read in terms of earlier instances. There was a parallel with the political debate in early 1762, notably the opposition motion in the House of Lords on 5 February that British troops be recalled from Germany in order to pursue with vigour the war against France and Spain, and thus procure an honourable peace. The opposition critique in 1778–82 was similar. In February 1762, it was unclear that Britain would be able to defeat both Spain and France, as in fact it did that year, and there was a similar logic in limiting interventionism, although in 1778–82 that was in the form of offensive operations in North America. But it was probably necessary to fight on if only to reveal that compromise was essential, an outcome that was appropriate for all sides. The British dimension is readily apparent, with George forced to accept American independence. Given the significance of that outcome, and the fact that Britain had been defeated, it is easy to understand why this is the sole element of compromise that might tend to attract attention, but far more was involved for all of the combatants, and notably so for Spain. Indeed, the need of the other combatants for compromise is an element of significance when assessing the value to Britain of fighting on, an issue which should not be discussed solely in terms of George’s stubbornness, important as that was. Such a question of comparative strength in the last stages of the war had also been important in 1762. More generally, the need for comparative judgement, in both peace and wartime, was ably understood by contemporaries, and not least so in finances, an element that gave Britain a major advantage, as again in 1762. Naval success underlined this by destroying the articulation of rival imperial systems.

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For Britain, the change in foreign policy and strategy in 1782 was inextricably interlinked with a wider transition, as George’s unavailing attempt to cling to a ministry of his choice was followed by Rockingham returning to a position he had last held in 1766. His long years in opposition had made opposition central to his career, in a way that would not have been anticipated from a protégé of Newcastle and a former First Lord of the Treasury. More radical than Charles, 2nd Earl Grey when he returned to power in 1830 from a long period in the wilderness of opposition, Rockingham obliged George to agree to unwelcome terms, including acceptance of all the new ministry’s legislation and nominations for office, and the reform of the Civil List by parliamentary legislation. American independence was part of the package. This change was part of a more general pattern in which in Britain (as elsewhere) domestic political alignment played a key role in what might otherwise be understood as a monolithic strategic culture; to employ, as with geopolitics and strategy, a later term. The concept of strategic culture is indeed a very helpful one, but with two caveats that arise from misleading usage. First, strategic culture should be understood as permissive, and not deterministic; and, linked to that, as a set of ideas and practices, rather than a controlling mentality. More generally, this is also true of geopolitics. Indeed, the nature of geopolitics deserves attention for a period when British politicians and commentators were forced to rethink the identity of the empire. Geopolitics now is essentially an encapsulation of the eighteenthcentury language of natural interests and balance of power, but all of these were sources and spheres of rhetoric, as much as scholarly analyses of often complex situations. The extent in particular to which specific territories, nodes or axes are of significance can be seen as resting on their inherent importance, as in the argument ‘the Newfoundland Fisheries are the Nursery of Seamen’ or that Gibraltar was a crucial possession. At the same time, in practice, importance was ‘constructed’ in terms of the playing out of the assumptions of what is now known as strategic culture through the politics of concern, commitment, and group-interest. Ironically, while remarks about geography as a determinant of policy and strategy were and are easily made, these remarks were in reality the key form of a geopolitics based on the concept of natural interests.15 The second caveat to the idea of strategic culture as a monolith is that, far from being a product and example of the zeitgeist or spirit of the age (at least a branch thereof), the very significance of this set of ideas helped ensure that it was a highly contested sphere. Indeed, in part because this was not a period in which government focused on social welfare, but, instead, saw security and prosperity largely in military and geopolitical terms, this sphere was one that acted as the focus of political contention. References back in

J. Black, Geopolitics and the Quest for Dominance (Bloomington, IN, 2016) and Geographies of an Imperial Power. The British World, 1688–1815 (Bloomington, IN, 2018). 15

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British history and to Classical exemplars, underlined this approach, one taken further by the popularity of Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776–89). Far from being a distant academic, Gibbon, a supporter of North, was an MP and a minor officeholder in the North government. Because of the ministerial stability in 1770–82; which was a period of one ministry and also of governmental victory in two successive general elections in 1774 and 1780, the significance of political contention over strategy was, and is, underplayed, or treated largely in terms of differences between ministers. Opposition criticism, nevertheless, could still excite diplomatic interest. Thus: From the foundation of the Neutral League in March 1780, the Whig attacks on the government constantly played into Russian hands. . . . Russia had therefore no desire to fortify North’s government with a diplomatic success and could well afford to wait until its inevitable fall.16 However, in practice, the government’s victory in the general election held in 1780 from 6 September to 18 October, although it saw a fall in the number of ministerial supporters, left the government in power with no further election due until 1787. In addition, the popular discontent in the British Isles in 1779–80, a discontent with a variety of strands including antiCatholicism and demands for reform,17 was stilled. Just as the model of Patriot revolution had not fired in Canada, so it was not going to work in Britain or Ireland, although in Ireland pressure forced major concessions from government. As a result of ministerial continuity, the idea of a governmental mindset for the conduct of the war gathered pace, replicating that of the NewcastlePitt ministry in 1757–61, and prefiguring that of the Pitt the Younger ministry from 1793. However, that approach also underplayed the degree of potential volatility that politics offered then and in other periods. This was not really a case of electoral politics, for they did not play a major role in the period in so far as forcing a change in policy was concerned, although the government victory in 1784, an election that did not need to be held, was very important to the stabilization of the ministry of Pitt the Younger. Instead, it was the dynamics of parliamentary management and, more particularly, its counterpoint, parliamentary independence, that were crucial to the policy change of 1782, while that consequent upon a new king with new ideas was crucial in 1761–2; as it had been with George I in 1714, but conspicuously not with the dyspeptic and somewhat reluctant continuity of George II in 1727.

16 17

Madariaga, Armed Neutrality, pp. 447–8. H. Butterfield, George III, Lord North and the People, 1779–80 (1949).

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The policy crux in 1782 represented a continuity with Rockingham’s earlier stance in 1765–6 in a way that captured a geopolitical issue of the entire period, namely how to manage the British world in a forward-looking direction. There were several strands to this, one being the successive attempts to respond to the contentious issues involved in the management of British interests in India, issues that came to a head with the collapse of the Fox-North ministry in December 1783. The nature of interests in North America, let alone their management, were very different due to the settler interest and the related constitutional nexus of rights and responsibilities. That nexus was to be transformed by American independence, but politicians, both British and American, had been considering aspects of change from the 1760s. Independence transformed the terms of the debate, but, to be counterintuitive, not to the same degree as might have been anticipated, notably by the French,18 given the continued reasons for trans-Atlantic Anglophone economic and political co-operation. Moreover, although not always to a degree that satisfied American critics, and often despite the views of representatives on the spot, the British government took great care not to alienate the Americans. At a different scale, there was a geopolitical agenda on offer that could have been employed to limit America. Essentially, this was a matter of reviving the French strategy of the early 1750s: an alliance with Native Americans, with regular troops lending support from Canadian bases. There was no exact equivalence, not least because Britain did not have Louisiana or a surrogate, but both a strategy, and Britain as a whole, were potentially more threatening to America because of British naval strength. The crucial point understood by those around Rockingham in 1778–82 was that the central geopolitical purpose for Britain was that of maintaining Anglo-America co-operation so as best to pursue common anti-Bourbon goals. That was the key element in the early 1760s, with financial measures intended to support a military establishment, and it remained that in the early 1780s. Federalist opposition to Revolutionary France in the 1790s ensured that this interest in co-operation was also sustained on the American side, although that was to be swept aside in the years of DemocraticRepublican ascendancy from 1801. Essentially, 1763–1800 saw a process of readjusting the North Atlantic Anglophone world, one that had different outcomes in the Thirteen Colonies, Canada and Ireland, and with 1773–82 the key years for North America, most particularly 1776 when what became the United States claimed independence but American forces were totally driven from Canada. The terms of the peace were in part a matter of a longer-term issue and one, certainly for the Rockinghamites, that were intended to ensure a lasting anti-Bourbon prioritization.

P.P. Hill, French Perceptions of the Early American Republic 1783–1793 (Philadelphia, PA, 1988). 18

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Charles James Fox occupied the new post of Foreign Secretary from 27 March 1782, replacing the former division of responsibility between two Secretaries of State. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, an ally of Fox and able parliamentary speaker as well as a playwright, was made Under-Secretary of State, a post he accepted in order ‘to force myself into business, punctuality, and information’.19 Whereas Stormont was deeply sceptical about Russian policy,20 Fox hoped for an alliance with Russia, and to a lesser extent, Prussia,21 while worried that Austria was less dissatisfied with France than reported.22 Fox, however, was more concerned to obtain peace and ready to yield independence to America, as Thomas Grenville, sent to Paris as minister in May 1782, was instructed.23 Bilateral negotiations were the route taken and not either reliance on mediating powers, as in the case of the War of the Bavarian Succession, and/or a general peace congress, as in 1713, 1748 and 1814–15.24 Such negotiations were eased in 1782–3 by the growing tensions between the powers opposed to Britain, and the degree to which it was possible to assume that these powers would not go on fighting for the sake of their allies’ territorial demands.25 Grenville told Vergennes that, except for American independence, the terms should repeat the terms of the Peace of Paris, and that France would benefit greatly from this independence. Vergennes, in contrast, claimed that Britain ‘had checked and constrained the French in all the quarters of the world’ and that he wanted a ‘more just and durable’ treaty than that of 1763.26 Indeed, the changed relationship between the two states was to be symbolically demonstrated by the abrogation of the article in the Peace of Paris giving Britain the right to maintain a commissioner at Dunkirk to prevent the rebuilding of its fortifications. A key context was provided by French interest in what was presented as a just international order based on a fair compromise, a thesis much to the fore with regard to Britain and Russia. In March 1777, Vergennes had already written of the need for Anglo-French co-operation against measures to weaken Turkey,27 and war had not led him to abandon this idea. With the fate of Crimea in the face of Russian occupation to the fore in 1782–3, Britain was pressed by France for support during the course of the peace 19 Sheridan to his brother, Charles, 2 Ap. 1782, W.S. Sichel, Sheridan (2 vols, London, 1909), vol. 2, p. 18. 20 Stormont to Keith, 12 Feb. 1782, NA. FO. 7/4. 21 Fox to Count Lusi, Prussian minister in London, 16 June 1782, Bod. Bland Burges papers, vol. 61, pp. 38–9. 22 Fox to Keith, 9 Ap., 10 May 1782, NA. FO. 7/14. 23 Instructions to Grenville, 30 Ap. 1782, PRO. FO. 27/2 fols. 42–6. 24 Yorke to Keith, 19 May 1782, BL. Add. 35525 fol. 208; Fox to Keith, 2 June, Grantham to Keith, 26 July 1782, NA. FO. 7/4, 5. 25 Draft to Grenville, 25 May 1782, NA. FO. 27/2 fols 111–12. 26 Grenville to Fox, 10 May 1782, PRO. FO. 27/2 fols 60–1. 27 AE. CP. Ang. 522 fols 50, 117–22, 134, 162–3, 401.

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negotiations and subsequently.28 The British government was also approached by Russia for assistance in the event of the dispatch of a fleet to attack Turkey,29 but felt perplexed by the variations in Russian conduct and was aware of the bold Russian plans in the Balkans. Combined with Britain’s difficult position, this encouraged caution in Britain in offering support.30 There was a political cost for any British government that accepted the French idea of co-operation. Fox and Grenville argued that France would be more accommodating once separated from America, but negotiations were complicated by the attitude of William, 2nd Earl of Shelburne, the Home and Colonial Secretary, who supported American independence only as part of a general peace. Shelburne advocated co-operation in European diplomacy, which was not Fox’s view, and sent his own envoy, Richard Oswald, to Paris to negotiate. Fox found himself in a minority in the Cabinet, but the focus on regaining Anglo-American co-operation remained the case, albeit in a wider context. At the same time, the attempt to negotiate peace was not developing well as it ‘begun upon false notions, continued upon vague ideas, and therefore dissipated without either ministry being much the wiser’.31 The second change of ministry in 1782 was a compulsory one as Rockingham’s death from influenza on 1 July, at the age of only fifty-two, soon after led George to turn to Shelburne, a former protégé of Chatham. Shelburne’s hostility to party was a theme that linked him to George and, in opposition to the view of prominent Rockinghamites, notably Fox, Shelburne defended the king’s right to choose his minsters. By mid-1782, this had become more important to George than fighting the lost cause of keeping America in the empire. Fox resigned on 4 July (as did Sheridan who had not proved a success), to be replaced by Thomas, 2nd Lord Grantham, an experienced diplomat who, however, lacked political weight of his own and therefore could be expected to follow the lead from George and Shelburne. Grantham had served in Madrid and that was valuable given the need to bring Spain into any settlement.32 There was a reorganization of British diplomacy that helped revivify the search for peace, although some ideas, such as sending Grafton to Paris to negotiate peace, were not followed up.33 Shelburne, who played a crucial role in the negotiations, notably in friendly talks34 with Vergennes’ representative, Joseph-Mathias-Gérard AE. CP. Ang. 540 fol. 318, 547 fols 38–41. Harris to Grantham, 11 Sept. 1782, NA. FO. 65/8. 30 Grantham to Keith, 27 Sept., Grantham to Harris, 15 Oct. 1782, NA. FO. 7/5, 65/8. 31 Thomas Walpole to Grafton, 16 July 1782, Bury St Edmunds, West Suffolk CRO. Grafton papers 423/828. 32 N. Aston, ‘Lord Grantham and the Foreign Secretaryship, 1782-83: Personalities and peace making during the “Crisis of the Constitution” ’, in R. Berman and W. Gibson (eds), The Lantern of History (Goring Heath, 2020), pp. 67–85. 33 Thomas Walpole to Grafton, 16 July 1782, Bury St Edmunds, West Suffolk CRO. Grafton papers, 423/828. 34 Rayneval to Vergennes, 15 Sept. 1782, AE. CP. Ang. 538 fol. 193. 28 29

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Rayneval, who came to Britain to negotiate, both eased, and made more politically difficult, the process of making peace by his interest not only in accommodation with the Americans, but also because he was in favour of reconciliation with France. There was a degree of ‘Enlightenment’ values at issue, as also with his support of a move from mercantilism toward freer trade,35 as well as a complex, and sometimes contradictory, mixture of goals and means. Yet, the long-term purpose on the part of British politicians was that of strengthening Britain globally without introducing autocracy at home, and, to that extent, there was, with the widely-distrusted Shelburne, as with others, a consistency across the political spectrum and throughout careers. This certainly, however, involved a need to vary goals and means to win political support in the ministry, Parliament and the public, which was a fundamental element of a necessary degree of vagueness over priorities. Shelburne was hopeful of better relations with Prussia and Russia,36 but these were not central to his concerns. As independence for the colonists was accepted, albeit grudgingly, the latter notably by the king, the key political task was that set by the negotiations with France and Spain. These were made more complex by the continuation of the war, and, as in 1762 with the capture of Cuba, that was complicated politically by success in the later stages, notably at the Battle of the Saintes. However, this and others, notably the Spanish failure to capture Gibraltar, were useful in response to Vergennes’ exaggeration to the British envoy Alleyne Fitzherbert, of ‘what he called the present triumphant condition of France’ and the ‘depressed and humiliated state of Great Britain’.37 The ability to retain political control of Ireland, a control that had been threatened, was also useful. Despite his desire for co-operation with the French, Shelburne defended British interests against the French desire to reverse as much of the 1763 settlement as possible. Grenville had warned Fox in May 1782 that Spain wanted Florida and Gibraltar, and France alterations in the state of the Newfoundland fisheries, Caribbean gains, and ‘very extensive surrenders of commerce and territory in the East Indies’. Vergennes told him, the following month, that, far from the Peace of Paris serving as the basis of a new treaty, it ‘should be annulled except in certain specified articles’.38 Shelburne, in contrast, rejected the idea of France having more in India than the trading stations she had been left in 1763, with the argument that ‘it was not to be expected that the king would cede two Continents’.39

F. Gilbert, ‘The “New Diplomacy” of the Eighteenth Century’, in his History: Choice and Commitment (Cambridge, MA, 1977), pp. 323–49. 36 Shelburne to Grafton, 2 Aug. 1782, Grafton papers, 423/673. For reports of an imminent treaty, Morning Herald, 15 Aug. 1782. 37 Fitzherbert to Grantham, 7 Aug. 1782, NA. FO. 27/3 fol. 54. 38 Grenville to Fox, 14 May, 21 June 1782, NA. FO. 27/2 fols 72, 132. 39 Shelburne to Grantham, 15 Sept. 1782, Bedford, CRO. L30/14/306/36. 35

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The British position was helped by Bourbon defeats and difficulties,40 by the agreement of Anglo-American peace preliminaries in November 1782, a key means to alter the basis of any continual struggle, and by the French fear that Shelburne would fall if he could not present Parliament with acceptable terms, for the French were aware of the vulnerability of British ministers that dealt with them. In December, with the British uncertain whether France would fight on,41 Vergennes persuaded the Spanish envoy in Paris, the Count of Aranda, to drop the demand for Gibraltar, which, in the shape of a Spanish ultimatum, had become the principal obstacle to peace. The British offer of the two Floridas and Minorca was accepted as an acceptable substitute. As a result, an armistice and peace preliminaries were signed in Paris on 20 January 1783.42 Shelburne, however, had angered ministerial colleagues by not consulting them, and he was also the focus of concern, even outrage, about the terms, for example from Grafton, now the Lord Privy Seal, and Charles, 3rd Duke of Richmond,43 the Master-General of the Ordnance, and, in 1765–6, a Secretary of State. Despite Grantham emphasizing the need for discussion of foreign policy,44 Shelburne did not understand the political value, and indeed governmental significance, of winning consent,45 which served him poorly in a mounting crisis caused by public criticism combined with a failure to win over Fox and, instead, the latter co-operating with North against Shelburne. The sensitivity of peace terms and his weakness in Parliament led Shelburne in 1782 to try to settle the terms before the session resumed at the close of the year.46 He emphasized the difference between seeking parliamentary approval for an agreement and leaving issues unresolved and public at the start of a session; although he noted that this issue was also true of the Council.47 The peace preliminaries were criticized, especially the lack of any guarantees for the Loyalists and for British debts. On 17 February 1783, Fox and North supported an amendment to the Address on the preliminaries, moved by Lord John Cavendish, MP for York, that the Commons would ‘proceed to consider’ the terms, instead of approving them as the ministry wanted. The opposition won the division by 224 to 208 votes. In the Lords, the opposition amendment was a clearer attempt to

Rayneval to Vergennes, 18 Sept. 1782, AE. CP. Ang. 538 fols 203–4. Fitzherbert to Grantham, 9 Dec. 1782, Bedford CRO. L30/14/137/5. 42 A. Stockley, Britain and France at the Birth of America. The European Powers and the Peace Negotiations of 1782–1783 (Exeter, 2001). 43 Richmond to John Ross, Bishop of Exeter, 27 Jan. 1783, BL. Add. 34523 fols 373–4. 44 Grantham to Shelburne, 29 Aug. 1782, Bedford, CRO. L30/14/306/31. 45 J. Cannon, ‘Lord Shelburne’s Ministry, 1782–3’, in N. Aston and C. Campbell Orr (eds), An Enlightenment Statesman in Whig Britain. Lord Shelburne in Context, 1737–1805 (Woodbridge, 2011), pp. 161–76. 46 Stockley, Britain and France, pp. 80–3. 47 Shelburne to Grantham, 25 Dec. 1782, Bedford, CRO. L30/14/306/1. 40 41

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present the government as failing to defend the national interest. The peace terms were castigated as ‘inadequate to our just expectations, and derogatory to the honour and dignity of Great Britain’, but the ministry maintained its control of the Lords. Four days later, the opposition was again victorious in the Commons. Cavendish proposed a motion describing the cessions made to Britain’s enemies as ‘greater than they were entitled to, either from the actual situation of their respective possessions, or from their comparative strength’. He referred to the treaty as ‘degrading and disgusting’, claimed that France and Spain were exhausted, and emphasized the strength of the Royal Navy. The opposition motion was carried by 207 to 190.48 The major speakers worked hard, North going on for one and three-quarter hours and Stormont for two on 17 February, and Fox for two and a half on the 21st.49 Partisanship played a key role in the debates, and the detail tended to be of less interest to contemporaries. George, Viscount Althorp, MP50 noted: Mr Powys has made a speech against the resolution which tends to censure the peace, in which he again exercised his wit on the state of parties and brought up Lord John [Cavendish] who entered into a full vindication of his creed and conduct very warmly . . . and now Mr Richard Sutton has put an end to the warmth by entering into the detail of the peace without being much listened to by the House.51 Sutton, a former under-Secretary, first in the Southern and then in the Northern Department, and a Lord of the Treasury under North, was an instance of the talent available in the Commons. Humphrey Minchin, a Foxite MP, reported of the debate on 21 February that Fox started with: the question of the peace which deviated as many others had done into the causes, reasons and consequences of the late ministerial changes and those which were likely now to follow. A babbler or two then followed before Pitt rose who began as Fox had done by sticking close to the arguments for the Peace from the comparative view of the state of the country and that of her enemies, in navy, army, and finance. He then came into the ministerial debate following and combating Mr Fox’s arguments stating his own conduct and that of his friends, painting the ill consequences he foresaw from the change, attacking vehemently Lord North, but concluding with a very fine and pathetic description of his

Parliamentary Register, IX, 297-302; Stockley, Britain and France, pp. 164–5. George, Viscount Althorp to his mother, Countess Spencer, 17 Feb., George, 4th Earl of Jersey to same, 17 Feb., Charles, 1st Earl of Lucan to same, 21 Feb. 1783, BL. Add. 75689. 50 The viscountcy was an honorary title as the heir to a peerage, as was that of Lord North. 51 Althorp to Countess Spencer, 19 Feb. 1783, BL. Add. 75689. 48 49

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own sentiments and feelings as to being in or out of office. Upon the whole both as to matter of business and flow of eloquence at the last I think one of his most capital performances. Lord North is now speaking in reply, confuting his arguments and showing that a union between the two parties now supposed to be on the point of uniting is the most likely to effect that harmony and strength which can alone give hopes or probability of a firm and stable administration . . . Mr Secretary Townshend is now speaking with his usual perspicuity and elegance.52 Thomas Townshend, the Home Secretary, the Shelburne ministry’s leading spokesman in the Commons and in defending the Preliminaries, argued that the terms were the best way to maintain good relations with America and that the lands ceded to France and Spain were not crucial. There can be problems in establishing what was said in Parliament but both the debates, and the conversations and meetings that surrounded them, were important to the perception of policy options, and to the real character of the dynamics of debate which, otherwise, can be mistakenly presented in terms either of apparently monolithic party groupings or as national actors. The February 1783 debates, instead, demonstrate the need to assess discussion of policy not only in terms of domestic partisanship but also with reference to the specific conjunctures of individual speeches and debates. These were parliamentary defeats for Shelburne rather than for peace, although foreign powers had to be reassured on that head.53 Shelburne resigned on the 24th, feeling that the treaty was as good as could be, but also that George had let him down politically: the king, in turn, was unimpressed by the quality of his management. He was replaced by a Fox-North ministry, for George failed to keep Fox out. As with the Whigs in 1714 maintaining the Utrecht settlement of 1713 they had criticized, the new ministry, accepted the preliminaries and on 3 September 1783 the peace with the Bourbons and America was signed at Versailles. France and Spain won essentially minor territorial gains: Senegal and Tobago; and Florida and Minorca respectively. The treaty with the Dutch followed in May 1784. Whether reconciliation with France was an extraneous factor in the negotiation of the peace or more central to it is worthy of consideration. Such reconciliation can be related to ‘Enlightenment’ values, notably with Shelburne and his attempt to counter unrealistic British views about the state of the two powers,54 and to concern about the destabilizing interests of the partitioning powers, particularly from Vergennes and George III, but

Minchin to Countess Spencer, 21 Feb. 1783, BL. Add. 75689. Fitzherbert to Keith, 26 Feb. 1783, BL. Add. 35528 fol. 49; Fitzherbert to Grantham, 8 Mar. 1783, NA. FO. 27/6 fols 57–8. 54 Rayneval to Vergennes, 18 Sept. 1782, AE. CP. Ang. 538 fol. 203. 52 53

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this thesis has to be employed with care as there had been other periods of co-operation, notably in 1670-4, 1681-8, 1697–1700, 1713–14 and 1716–31, all without such a ready placement, and each, indeed, capturing very different situations in British politics and political culture. The wisdom of better relations with a near neighbour was not the sole issue, as, going far further, co-operation was to the fore in all of these cases. At the same time, the raw basis in each case was that of a strengthening of Britain as understood in specific political contexts, domestic and international. In this respect, Shelburne’s views did not have significant traction, which can be explained in terms of xenophobia, as with ‘Once again foreign policy was circumscribed by the extent of British hatred of France.’55 However, while that was definitely an element, it does not suffice as an explanation. Instead, it was the lack of domestic political grounding for co-operation with France that is more noticeable and requires careful consideration without damning this situation in terms of xenophobia. Earlier links with France had been as part of projects for Cromwellian rule (late 1650s), Stuart aggrandizement (1670s and 1680s), Jacobite revanche (early 1690s), and the stabilization of the new Hanoverian/Whig order (1716–31) and had excited controversy as a consequence. The nearest equivalent to Shelburne’s schema, that of William III’s negotiation with Louis XVI in the late 1690s of the Partition Treaties for the Spanish Habsburg inheritance, had proved weak, in large part due to the fragile international and domestic bases for this alignment. Geopolitical speculation, moreover, had to rest on a degree of plausibility, and that of Western Europe determining developments in Eastern Europe, as sought by Vergennes, was more a question of wish-fulfilment than of practical reality, as Pitt the Younger was to discover with the Ochakov Crisis in 1791, and Napoleon with repeated political and military failures in 1812–14. That was all-to-the-future in 1782, but there was a sense of implausibility that, however, did not come to fruition only because Shelburne’s fall from office prevented a full realization of the political weakness of his position and policies. The recent greater understanding of the inherent strength of an English Enlightenment,56 furthermore, can make Shelburne’s approach appear not so much ‘Enlightenment’, and therefore inherently progressive, but rather a branch of a wider French-based network that lacked the political groundedness of British ideas. In the event,any argument that cooperation with France was in Britain`s strategic interests did not preclude the idea of being watchful as well as cooperative,as Pitt recognised.The qualified Francophilia Shelburne offered was problematic. Both the last stages of war and the prospect of peace threw to the fore issues of geopolitical significance and strategic means. Aside from debate 55 H.M. Scott, British Foreign Policy in the Age of the American Revolution (Oxford, 1990), p. 329. 56 R. Porter, The Creation of the Modern World: The Untold Story of the British Enlightenment (London, 2000).

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over whether and how best to continue the conflict, there was consideration of which territories should not be yielded. The two elements could be separate but were often linked. Thus, Sir Charles Middleton, the Comptroller of the Navy and a former naval officer in the Caribbean, pressed the value of the harbour at Trincomalee in Ceylon and of the Newfoundland fisheries, and suggested restricting offensive operations to the Caribbean and the Indian Ocean, but also drawing on the manpower of the Loyalists who could be used to conquer Hispaniola, and, on the mainland ‘to supply the Indians liberally’.57 To a degree, there was a revival of issues to the fore when peace had been considered in the previous war. Thus, in the absence of the conquest of Canada, American needs matched those of Britain before the fall of Niagara, the Royal Magazine pressing in September 1759 for the retention of Niagara in order to cut off Canada from the Ohio: we shall be able to recover the fur and pelting trade, and prevent our perfidious enemy from filling the minds of the Indians with notions extremely prejudicial to our interest. We shall secure the navigation of the great lakes, unite the frontiers of our northern and southern colonies for their mutual defence and security. . .58 Meanwhile, alongside wartime pressure on Britain in India, there was also consideration in the early 1780s (as there was not in North America) of an expansionist policy in Asia, one that looked to post-war interest more usually associated with the Pitt ministry. Shelburne received such advice, and this represented one of many themes in continuity between him and the Pitt ministry. Some of the material it provides is worth quoting at length because it provides a genuine flavour of the imperialism of the period. Information, in the shape of revenue flows and maps, played an important role, as when Sir John Macpherson, a member of the Supreme Council of Bengal, and later the Acting Governor General, wrote to Shelburne from Calcutta: If your Lordship casts your eye upon the local situation of these provinces you will easily trace the boundaries which nature has traced for an Empire of which the annual revenue is about six millions sterling independent of the value of its manufactures. This Empire is as easily governed and secured, nay more so than the single province of Bengal in nearly the same degree that Britain as an United Kingdom is more easy of protection than England in a separate state from the Rohilla Mountains, along the Tibet Hills to the sea at Chittagong. . . Scindia, the Maratta General with his army is not far from the station of our other brigade at

57 58

Middleton to Shelburne, 27 Aug. 1782, BL. Bowood 57. Royal Magazine, 1 (1760), p. 112.

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Cawnpore. That vicinity shows the necessity of our extension of territory for if you draw back your frontier to Patna, the Marattas would follow or some power equally dangerous as a neighbour. Thus measures have been gradually adopted by what is called the visionary ambition of Mr Hastings which would maintain our empire in India even if the Carnatic was lost . . . India has sent in specie and in goods and in drafts upon foreign nations to England since the year 1757 upwards of 50 millions sterling upon balance of account with Britain. Macpherson, nevertheless, was aware of problems facing Britain and presented competition with the local rulers as the basis for the international relations of India: ‘the Country powers . . . their progress in military arrangements’.59 The secret committee at Fort St George had noted of the 1781 campaign against Mysore: large body of French troops was daily expected to come to the assistance of Haidar, without which he had been able to maintain his ground in the Carnatic notwithstanding every exertion made against him. . . . That those [forts] we held did not impede his progress or prevent his possession of the greatest part of his country. Haidar was also able to avoid defeat: though he had engaged three times in the late campaign he discontinued the combat on each occasion before any durable impression could be made on his army, that Sir Eyre Coote always possessing the field of battle had a fair title to the laurels due to victory but that Haidar suffered few of the disadvantages of a defeat, that his numerous bodies so far from dispersing as had in general been the case with Indian armies in contest with our troops were for the most part as well together as before, and did not seem to feel the humiliation or adopt the fears of the vanquished, that they were driven to no permanent distress nor did they abandon the territory they had invaded, that the decided superiority of the British arms in Indostan had been maintained but the solid purpose of the war to expel the enemy remained to be effected.60 The situation in India appeared more serious as a consequence not only of French moves there, but also of growing French influence on the routes to India, both via the Turkish empire and via Cape Town.61 This very much looked ahead to tensions in the post-war period.

Macpherson to Shelburne, 6 Dec. 1782, BL. Bowood, 56. Proceedings of the Secret Committee, BL. Add. 22422 fol. 11. 61 Ainslie, envoy in Constantinople, to La Touche, 7 Ap. 1782, BL. IO. 6/29/17. 59 60

CHAPTER NINE

Picking up the Pieces, 1783–90 Periodization, as ever, is key, and notably so because it is set in hindsight. The most important element in understanding the issues facing Britain in the aftermath of the American Revolution was that the eventual challenge of the French Revolution and then, even more, the French Revolutionary Wars was totally unexpected. That was fair enough in terms of the situation in 1783, when, instead, on the example of America and, more luridly, of the Gordon Riots in London in 1780, revolution might more readily have been anticipated in the case of Britain. In addition, what now may appear more plausible, namely the collapse of French prestige and influence from the Dutch Crisis of late 1787, as well as better British relations with America, were both, in each case, unpredictable, and largely unexpected.1 The context within Britain was one of a different set of uncertainties, which again underlined the problems posed by Britain as a potential international partner for other states; problems that were magnified in their impact by a cultural disdain for British political culture, parliamentary practice, and mercantile values on the part of aristocratic Continental courts and diplomats. There was certainly a ministerial instability that, as was feared, influenced foreign views. Shelburne, with whom George could deal until February 1783 and who, crucially, was his choice, was outmanoeuvred that February and replaced in April by a ministry headed by Fox and North, which was a combination very unwelcome to George. Fox, who like Shelburne and North had no diplomatic experience, and, unlike them, had scant experience of government, saw peace as an opportunity for an active resumption of alliance-seeking, and he did not share Shelburne’s interest in good relations with France. Even so, there was no abrupt break between the ministries, for in February, Grantham noted:

1 J. Black, Other Pasts, Different Presents, Alternative Futures (Bloomington, IN, 2015), pp. 102–50.

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The Court of France is anxious that we should concur in some plan of neutrality. I have in general admitted the eligibility of such a system but at the same time have carefully avoided committing His Majesty in any measures which should preclude him from taking such part as may suit his interests and those of his kingdoms.2 Harris disavowed French attempts to persuade Russia that Britain would oppose her anti-Turkish moves.3 In April, Fox wrote: An intimate connection, or if possible a strict alliance, with the northern Maritime Powers of Europe is the obvious and rational system for this country, and more especially as long as the Bourbon Family Compact continues to be in force.4 There were hopes that the Crimean crisis would help Britain win allies or at least the friendship of Russia and maybe Austria,5 and Vergennes was led to criticism by Britain’s unwillingness to co-operate.6 Harris was blunt in his rejection of any idea of co-operation with France, a view Fox had come to share, but, instead of giving a Treasury view against co-operation, his was that of an interventionist who was convinced that alignment with France would undermine interventionism. While keen on getting the government to woo Austria,7 Harris was clear in his advice to Fox: An English Ministry never need desire a greater eulogium of their conduct than the being cried down and disapproved by that of France. If, in the present juncture, we had acted a trimming part, or, what would have been still worse, had our measures appeared to correspond with those of the Court of Versailles, we should have broken the last thread by which we hold to the Continent, and our consideration in Europe would have been irretrievably lost.8 The immediate context was one of the might-have-been conflicts, more specifically whether Turkey would respond to the Russian annexation of Crimea, and/or Russia going further, leading to a full-scale conflict. It was

Grantham to Keith, 22 Feb. 1783, NA. FO. 7/6. Harris to Fitzherbert, 21 Mar. 1783, Matlock, Derbyshire CRO. 239 M/O 522. 4 Fox to Duke of Manchester, 30 Ap. 1783, NA. FO. 27/6 fol. 169. 5 Fox to Keith, 29 July, Fox to Manchester, 4 Aug. 1783, NA. FO. 7/7; 27/6; Harris to Fox, 8 Aug. 1783, NA. FO. 65/10. 6 Vergennes to Contrôlleur Général Bertin, 11 July 1783, BN. naf 6498 fol. 298; Fox to Manchester, 4 Aug. 1783, NA. FO. 27/6. 7 Harris to Keith, 15 Aug. 1783, BL. Add. 35529 fol. 205. 8 Harris to Fox, 25 Aug. 1783, 3rd Earl (ed.), Diaries and Correspondence of James Harris, First Earl of Malmesbury (4 vols, 1844), II, 54. 2 3

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assumed that Joseph II of Austria would back Russia, thus putting pressure on the Austro-French alliance, but the course and outcome were regarded as uncertain: Whether the Emperor will or will not be finally driven to make his option between France and Russia and what that option will be are the two great points upon which everything must turn . . . The conversation at Paris is certainly very hostile to the Emperor as well as to Russia, but I know too much of that city to place much reliance upon such a circumstance. The determination of the French ministry (if they have one which I much doubt) is still a secret; the very cavalier manner in which their insinuations have been treated at Petersburg must undoubtedly mortify them, but whether they will be satisfied with the foolish figure they have already made in this business or whether they will get themselves still deeper in the scrape is more than I can tell.9 So also with a lack of certainty as to whether Frederick II would look to France or could be brought into an Anglo-Russian alignment,10 an oft held wish but one that clashed with the idea of an agreement focused on Britain, Austria and Russia. Indeed, Britain also approached Austria, as well as Russia, Sweden and Denmark for a joint representation to Prussia not to annex Danzig and thus threaten Baltic trade relations.11 The key element was the approach to Russia, with instructions to Alleyne Fitzherbert, the new envoy, to renew the 1742 treaty, improve relations and convince Russia that Britain was not backing France, still less Turkey.12 Fox saw a defensive alliance offering, by the accession of other powers, ‘a Balance to the great weight of the House of Bourbon in the scale of Europe’.13 Two months later, Fox was to be out of office, not, despite the possibility had the Regency Crisis of 1788–9 worked out differently, to return as Foreign Secretary until February 1806. The evaluation of his position in 1783 has been scanty, in part because the major study of the Fox-North ministry focused on domestic politics,14 while there has been more interest in the foreign policy of the Shelburne and Pitt ministries, each of which was ready to seek a reconciliation with France. Fox’s views can be seen as anachronistic and looking back beyond those of Chatham to the ‘Old System’,15 but they reflected the experience of France undermining the British empire in the New World and

Fox to Keith, 21 Sept. 1783, NA. FO. 7/7. Fox to Harris, 27 July 1783, NA. FO. 65/10. 11 Fox to Keith, 21 Sept. 1783, NA. FO. 7/7. 12 Fox to Fitzherbert, 20 Aug., 8 Sept., 28 Nov. 1783, NA. FO. 65/11; Fox to Ainslie, 21 Nov., Ainslie to Fox, 10 Dec. 1783, NA. FO. 78/4 fols 201–2. 13 Fox to Fitzherbert, 11 Oct. 1783, NA. FO. 65/11. 14 J. Cannon, The Fox-North Coalition: Crisis of the Constitution (1969). 15 Fraser to Keith, 7 Nov. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 158. 9

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seeking to do the same in India, while also looking toward the rivalry between the two powers, notably in 1787 and 1790 and the war from 1793. They were anachronistic therefore, not in the sense that the Bourbon powers were rivals, but, rather, in the conviction that a balancing league could be established. William Fraser, Under Secretary in the Foreign Office, was on the nail in October 1783 when he assumed that Turkey would submit and France do nothing,16 but that left Britain with no opportunity to establish an alliance over that crisis. Britain’s finances were under less pressure than those of France,17 but that was not the basis for a new league. The political crisis in Britain over the governance of India supervened and meant that instructions were not sent to diplomats.18 George’s antipathy towards Fox did not focus on foreign policy. Instead, he personally disliked Fox, the libertine friend of his eldest son, blaming him for leading the prince astray; and seeing him as a threat to the role of the Crown. Fox was the antithesis of what George valued. The king, instead, had tried to persuade William Pitt the Younger, the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the second son of Chatham, to save him from the choice and to create a new ministry in which he replaced Shelburne; but Pitt, sensibly, felt he lacked sufficient support in the Commons. There was considerable force in North’s argument for the need for George to respond to circumstances, but the formation of the Fox-North ministry demoralized George, who felt compelled to accept by the need to avoid government bankruptcy.19 His habitual selfrighteousness brought him no solace, and having revised, but not pursued, his abdication declaration, and, as he sought to resist the formation of the new ministry, probed possibilities for alternative combinations, George now conspicuously failed to show it support. This was a key element of the power-alignment of any state, for, irrespective of its international position, it had to offer a consistency between monarch and ministers in order to provide a sense of stability. In turn, that apparent consistency was repeatedly challenged by suggestions of tension and rifts, as well as by the inherent issues posed by the reversionary interest, that presented by the groups looking to the heir to the throne. The latter was scarcely banished from British politics by the extent to which the country was a parliamentary monarchy with the requirement to manage Parliament in order to finance government on an annual basis providing a degree of continuity, as with Sir Robert Walpole’s ability to retain office after the accession of George II in 1727. However, George III encapsulated the degree of discontinuity offered by a royal accession, both in 1761–2, when the new

Fraser to Keith, 31 Oct. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 135. Harris to Keith, 5 Nov., Fraser to Keith, 7 Nov. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fols 151, 159. 18 Fox to Keith, 21 Nov. 1783, NA. FO. 7/7; Fraser to Keith, 21 Nov. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 192. 19 George to --, 2 Ap. 1783, Bod. MS. Eng. Lett. C.144 fol. 77. 16 17

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king broke with his grandfather’s men and measures, and in 1788–9, when his apparent madness led, in the Regency Crisis, to the prospect of such a change with the anticipated regency of his pro-Whiggish heir, Prince George. From this perspective, the intervening years were a period of stability, as indeed were even those from the end of the 1789 crisis until 1811, because the reversionary interest was then of limited consequence or appeared to be while the king’s health held. Had it been more significant, then counterfactuals would have come into play, and for both domestic politics and the possibility of a different outcome for America. With George willing in 1782 to consider abdication, albeit only briefly, it is implausible to suggest any fixedness to British politics, and this position underlines the extent of contingency, of political crisis, and of the degree to which foreign powers were sensible to be wary of arrangements with Britain irrespective of the language coming out of London. No such discontinuity was expected of the anticipated deaths of Frederick the Great and Charles III of Spain, which indeed occurred in 1786 and 1788, in each case leading to the accession of monarchs of less competence and commitment. Alongside abdication among the routes not followed in Britain was inheritance through different branches of George’s family. Earlier, both George I and George II had considered such a division among male heirs, which was in accordance with the practice of German princely houses but had not done so. As a consequence, the possibility of grounding some of George’s many sons in imperial possessions lacked a recent dynastic background. Moreover, it would have been at odds with British constitutional practice. So also in 1783. There was no possibility then of suggesting a solution to the imperial future, let alone American independence, in terms of an imperial role for the sons, but it is another reminder of a road not taken. As George IV and William IV had no sons, it was also to be an option that closed down, and later in the nineteenth century, when there were more British princes, they were not found imperial possessions, nor foreign ambitions comparable to that of Maximilian in Mexico. George shared Shelburne’s hopes of benefits from trade with an independent America,20 a state that owed much to its colonial origins as part of the empire, but that had violently rejected it.21 In the event, the peace settlement, the Treaties of Versailles of 3 September 1783, appeared to most to be a fundamental weakening of the empire, a response linked to a widespread sense of Britain as a decayed power, one that encouraged interest in Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776–88).

20 J.L. Bullion, ‘George III on Empire, 1783,’ William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 51 (1994), pp. 305–9. 21 R.A. Burchell, The End of Anglo-America: Historical Essays in the Study of Cultural Divergence (Manchester, 1991); M. Brückner, The Geographic Revolution in Early America: Maps, Literacy, and National Identity (Chapel Hill, NC., 2006).

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Moreover, the final resolution of the domestic political crisis created by George’s unwillingness to accept the coalition, the formation of an eventually stable and successful ministry under Pitt, was far from inevitable. Peace provided an opportunity for political action. George moved in December 1783 against the Fox-North ministry when it backed an East India Bill that he correctly saw as a grab for ministerial power and patronage over India. The government of India was to be under not, as hitherto, the East India Company, which it was intended should focus instead on trade, but under a board of seven commissioners. The proposed members were all linked to the ministry. This represented a degree and character of control different to those under the Regulating Act of 1773. The legislation underlined the multi-faceted nature of power in the period: Britain, like any other state, was in part a domestic coalition of interests, and, in this episode as with many others, the ministry was trying to alter the terms of the coalition as well as dealing with practical issues of governance. That formulation might suggest that the two were separate, which was not of course the case. The governance of British India, however organized, was a matter of power there, but also in London, and was understood in that light. There had been predictions of an easy session22 and the Bill passed the Commons with considerable ease in November 1783. On 12 December, Anthony Storer, from Paris, felt able to write ‘everything wears at present in England the complexion of strength and permanency in the present government’.23 Nevertheless, the king was testing the government. That day, Grantham rejected appeals that he accept the Foreign Office in a new ministry that Pitt was trying to form,24 but royal pressure had an impact, Fox observing on the 13th: ‘I have heard of so many defections tonight that the thing appears to me more difficult than I ever thought it before.’25 The role of the Crown as either a bulwark against over-mighty ministers or a threat to political freedom seemed a reality when, in a key show of authority and power, George authorized the comment that any peer voting for the Bill would be considered a personal enemy, and refused the ministerial request for permission to disavow the message. This was very much the constitution as a protean element. Defeated in the Lords on the 17th, the coalition ministry did not resign, so George, pushing the issue further, dismissed it on the 18th, asking Pitt to form a new one. Faced, however, by the continuing unity of the coalition and the collective resignation of many officeholders unwilling to serve under Pitt, George saw himself as ‘on the edge of a precipice’ and hinted at abdication.26 Commons’ Fraser to Keith, 31 Oct. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 135. Storer to Keith, 12 Dec. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 249. 24 Grantham memorandum on conversation with Pitt, 12 Dec. 1783, Bedford CRO. L30/14/308 A/1. 25 Fox to Portland, 13 Dec. 1783, Bod. MS. Eng. Lett. C.144 fol. 66. 26 George to Pitt, 23 Dec. 1783, NA. PRO. 30/8/103 fol. 15. 22 23

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defeats in January 1784 led Pitt, who, even with George’s help, could not command a parliamentary majority, to think of resigning, and George to reiterate his willingness to abdicate, although declaring his determination to fight on against what he regarded as disorder. The perseverance, stubbornness and inflexibility seen in his handling of America was again evident. By 13 February, the king felt able to comment on: The present strange phenomenon, a majority not exceeding 30 in the House of Commons thinking that justifies the stopping the necessary supplies when the House of Lords by a majority of near two to one and at least that of the People at large approve of my conduct and see as I do that not less is meant than to render the Crown and the Lords perfect ciphers; but it will be seen that I will never submit. The crisis, or, as Harris termed it, ‘contest’,27 crystallized the ambiguities of the political system, as the deceptive neatness of the formula of parliamentary monarchy, the nature of parliamentary monarchy both as it was then understood and as it sometimes now employed, does not always adequately note the room for disagreement over what it meant in practice in terms of the government of empire, including India and American colonies, or, in this case, the choice of ministers, a disagreement that allowed for flexibility but also caused serious problems. To George, executive power was clearly vested in the Crown, and Commons’ majorities against him in early 1784 only stiffened his determination to persist. There was, however, no equivalent in 1784 to the tensions in American politics arising from the federal character of its system. Pertinacity was in George’s eyes a legitimist creed designed to protect rights (and not only his own), and not an aggressive one born of an interest in extending power, a view that linked his opinions in the 1750s to those thereafter. Meanwhile, hanging on helped George and the new ministry benefit from a swelling tide in popular opinion, shown in a large number of Addresses from counties and boroughs, with over 50,000 signatures in total, in favour of the free exercise of the royal prerogative in choosing ministers. These Addresses were also a testimony to the potential popularity of the monarchy. Separately, there was considerable continuity in foreign policy, and notably so in trying to achieve good relations with Russia and to avoid the French lead in the Crimean crisis.28 Equally, the major international prospects in Europe had not changed. One was of the partitioning powers pressing on, possibly with Austria and Russia making gains from Turkey, and Prussia

27 George to Richard Grenville, 13 Feb. 1784, BL. Add. 70957, Harris to Keith, 24 Dec. 1783, BL. Add. 70957, 35530 fol. 276. 28 Carmarthen to Fitzherbert, 23 Dec. 1783, NA. FO. 65/11; Harris to Keith, 24 Dec., George III to Carmarthen, 28 Dec., BL. Add. 35530 fol. 276, 27914 fol. 1.

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from Poland,29 and a threat of aggression also by these powers to other states, such as Sardinia (Savoy-Piedmont), which led the last to press for Anglo-Bourbon cooperation.30 Another was of waiting for the crisis to throw up the possibility for alliances,31 which, essentially was the choice of both the Fox-North and Pitt governments. A third was of remaining ‘spectators only of the mischief’.32 In March 1784, Parliament was dissolved and the ministry then did very well in the elections held from 30 March to 10 May. At a meeting of the Yorkshire freeholders, Henry, 2nd Earl Fauconberg, Lord Lieutenant of the North Riding of Yorkshire, a Lord of the Bedchamber, and George’s host at Cheltenham in 1788, taking the pro-governmental stance, asked ‘Is George III or Charles James Fox to reign?’ There was a widespread perception of George as a morally-respectable Englishman opposed to a bunch of mostly immoral, power-grabbing aristocrats. In turn, George helped finance the ministry’s election fund and obtained daily reports on the course of the election, with his interest extending to individual constituencies and candidates. In contrast, he had failed to show comparable interest in the case of politics in the American colonies. The overall results, with the ministry enjoying a solid Commons’ majority, greatly cheered the king and encouraged him to feel that his resolve had not only been vindicated but had helped save the country. The results reflected widespread support for George as the guarantor of stability and continuity, a position very different from two decades, or even one year earlier. Opposition supporters were highly critical, referring in a highly subjective fashion to a ‘frenzy of the people’.33 The Bath Chronicle of 6 May, commenting critically on Pitt’s peerage creations, wrote: thus, whilst the infatuated people of this devoted country are jealous of their own representatives, and rejoice at the dissolution of the late Parliament for daring to assert the rights of the Commons; the House of Peers is daily increasing, and an aristocracy, that most dangerous of all governments, seems to approach with rapid strides! This was ironic in view of the aristocratic character of the opposition leadership. The royal prerogative had indeed become popular, and a caricature, The Royal Hercules Destroying the Dragon Python, published

John, Viscount Dalrymple, envoy in Berlin, to Keith, 11 Nov. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fols 172–3. 30 John Trevor, envoy to Turin, to Keith, 10 Dec. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 244; Trevor to Carmarthen, 7 Jan. 1784, NA. FO. 62/3, p. 327. 31 John, Lord Mount Stuart, envoy to Turin, to Robert Lisbon, envoy to Madrid, 21 Nov. 1783, BL. Add. 36804 fols 689. 32 Trevor to Keith, 10 Dec. 1783, BL. Add. 35530 fol. 244. 33 William Eden to Lord Sheffield, 10 Ap. 1784, BL. Add. 45728 fol. 15. 29

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on 24 April, showed George wrestling against a dragon with the heads of the major opposition leaders. The notion of a Patriot king above faction seemed fulfilled, and, thereafter, the Pitt ministry, which was not a ‘party ministry’, enjoyed a solid position until, totally unexpectedly, the Regency Crisis blew up in late 1788. Once Crown-élite consensus had been restored – at least in so far as was measured by the crucial criterion, the king’s ability to co-operate with a ministry enjoying the support of Parliament – Britain was essentially politically stable, and could be compared favourably with France by foreign diplomats.34 A booming economy and buoyant public finances both helped.35 Thanks to the signs of widespread support for the royal position in 1784, George’s understanding of his crucial constitutional role was married to an awareness of the popular resonance of the Crown. The successful overcoming of the ‘Regency Crisis’ of 1788–9 caused by the opposition’s attempt to exploit George’s ill-health was important to the international awareness of British capability. George, who took a considerable interest in foreign policy, notably reading dispatches,36 built on earlier attempts to ease relations with America,37 striking an appropriate note of wise and honest courtesy when he received John Adams on 1 June 1785 as the first American Minister to the Court of St James. Adams recorded George as saying: I have done nothing in the late contest but what I thought myself indispensably bound to do, by the duty which I owed to my people . . . I was the last to consent to the separation; but the separation having been made, and having become inevitable, I have always said, as I say now, that I would be the first to meet the friendship of the United States as an independent power. . . let the circumstances of language, religion, and blood have their natural and full effect. The flexibility on the part of the British government toward America was matched by the attempt to make commercial rapprochement work with France. In contrast, the opposition of both George and the French government to Joseph II’s attempt to increase Austrian power in Germany, did not lead to concerted action. Neither the French government38 nor the British ministry wished to jeopardize relations with Austria nor to commit to Prussia.

Hugh Elliot, envoy in Copenhagen, to Carmarthen, 15 May 1787, NA. FO. 22/9 fol. 46. Dundas to Cornwallis, 21 Sept. 1786, NA. PRO. 30/11/111 fol. 159. 36 Thurlow to Stafford, no. d [Oct. 1787], NA. PRO. 30/29/1/15, no. 62. For George’s interest at this stage, Pitt to Grenville, 7 Aug. 1787, BL. Add. 59364 fol. 44. 37 John, 3rd Duke of Dorset, envoy in Paris, to Gower, 29 July 1784, NA. PRO. 30/29/1/15 no. 47. 38 Vergennes to Noailles, 27 May 1784, AE. CP. Aut. Sup. 23 fols 84–6. 34 35

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A trade treaty with France, named the Eden Treaty after William Eden, its British negotiator, was finally agreed in 1786, only, despite the deleterious effects on French industry of cheaper British imports, particularly of textiles, to experience considerable difficulty in Parliament. If looking for patterns, Eden was seeking to take forward Shelburne’s views,39 but, at the same time, he met bitter opposition within the ministry, notably from Francis, Marquess of Carmarthen, the inexperienced Foreign Secretary,40 and from Sir James Harris, envoy at The Hague, and both an experienced diplomat and an MP, and from the Duke of Dorset, the Ambassador in Paris. Responding to the idea of a ministerial colleague that Britain accede to a Franco-Dutch alliance, Carmarthen was correct to point out that this would mean that Britain would have to help France if it went to war with Austria,41 as had nearly happened the previous year. Doubts about French motivation, which were expressed from the outset by Carmarthen,42 in part captured the divisions within French policymaking. Too much of the idea of co-operation was based on a perception of French policy that derived from Vergennes43 and was largely to be carried forward by his successor as Foreign Minister, Montmorin. Vergennes pressed the need to consider not the specific advantage of either country but their joint profit from economic expansion which he saw as creating shared interest that would act as a corrective to what he termed the warlike effervescence of the British.44 The press reported the prospect of what would have been a bringing to fruition of hopes from 1772–3: It is said the French Minister, in addition to the Commercial Treaty, has proposed an offensive and defensive one with this country; this will make Britain and France the arbiters of Europe, and ensure to it a lasting peace.45 The specifics, however, caused concern, with inaccurate reports of an AngloFrench co-operation to stop Russia sending a fleet to the Mediterranean, reports that the British government denied.46 Moreover, as the British and others knew, protestations of good behaviour did not necessarily entail consistency on the part of French government. French diplomats worked to Samuel Garbett to Marquess of Lansdowne, 14 Oct. 1786, BL. Bowood, 17. For contempt, Count d’Adhémar, French Ambassador, to Vergennes, 3 Jan. 1784, AE. CP. Ang. 547 fols 22–4. 41 Carmarthen to Richmond, 27 Dec. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 229. 42 Carmarthen to Storer, 6 Jan. 1784, NA. FO. 27/11 fols 16–17. 43 Vergennes to Adhémar, 4 Ap. 1784, AE. CP. Ang. 548 fol. 185. 44 Vergennes to Barthélemy, 26 Nov. 1786, AE. CP. Ang. 558 fol. 191. 45 Daily Universal Register, 21 Oct. 1786. 46 Simolin, Russian envoy to Paris, to Count Semyon Vorontsov, his London counterpart, 12 Dec., Pitt to Carmarthen, 27 Dec. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fols 159-61; Carmarthen to Keith, 17 Jan. 1786, NA. FO. 7/12. 39 40

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thwart British approaches to other powers.47 In addition, French diplomatic goals were at variance with those of Britain in a number of states, including Turkey and Portugal. Furthermore, in the mid-1780s, on a longstanding pattern, the Ministry of the Marine, which also had responsibility for the colonies, pursued a distinctive foreign policy, one aimed against Britain. Charles, Marquis of Castries, the Minister of the Marine from 1780 to 1787, saw Britain as France’s principal enemy, had wanted war to continue in 1783, and sought for France to develop her influence along the route to India. There was growing French influence in Egypt and diplomatic chatter about Turkey ceding Crete and Chios to the French.48 In addition, France sent an embassy to Isfahan in Persia in 1784. Much to the concern of the British government,49 France tried to maintain the navy on a wartime footing in preparation for a resumption of hostilities. Harbour works were pressed ahead at Cherbourg. In a shipbuilding race that was another version of that which had followed peace in 1763, Britain and France launched a formidable amount of tonnage, while Spain remained the third leading naval power, with Russia as fourth, and the Dutch as fifth. The total displacement tonnage of Western navies rose from 1.21 million tons in 1780 to 1.6 million in 1790.50 This was a key geopolitical dynamic, as no non-Western state came close, despite the increase in the Turkish navy in the 1780s. On 4 April 1784, Louis XVI told Admiral Suffren that the war in America had so hit French finances that it had not been possible to fight on in Asia.51 Furthermore, such a continuation did not accord with Vergennes’ concerns about Russian aggrandizement, and, once American independence had been secured, France had obtained her major war goal. To fight on to weaken Britain in India would have been to commit French policy to uncertain objectives and unpredictable allies, and by 1783 Tipu Sultan was isolated in India. Yet, French moves produced a weak basis for any idea of grounding British foreign policy and strategy on co-operation with France. Indeed, it was argued that helping to settle peace between Russia and Turkey in 1784 would simply make it easier for France to challenge Britain in India.52 Furthermore, George’s caution more generally remained a significant factor, and not least because he did not hesitate to express his views, emphasizing

Noailles, envoy in Vienna, to Vergennes, 4 Aug. 1784, AE. CP. Aut. 348 fol. 3. Carmarthen to Dorset, 26 Mar., Carmarthen to Keith, 9 Mar. 1784, NA. FO. 27/11 fols 262–3, 7/8. 49 Carmarthen to Storer, 1 Jan., Storer to Carmarthen, 11 Jan., Carmarthen to Dorset, 13 Feb. 1784, NA. FO. 27/11 fols 2, 38, 111–12. 50 J. Glete, Navies and Nations: Warships, Navies, and State-Building, I: Europe and America, 1500–1860 (2 vols, Stockholm, 1993), esp. I, 311. 51 M. Bertrand, Suffren. De Saint-Troez aux Indes (Paris, 1991), pp. 311–12. 52 Carmarthen to Dorset, 13 Feb. 1784, NA. FO. 27/11 fol. 111. 47 48

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in 1785 the need to avoid ‘any connections that might bring on a war’ which he thought should be ‘the invariable rule of our conduct’.53 Britain’s overseas position had appeared in serious difficulties at the beginning of the 1780s, with France both constructing an effective oceanic alliance system and putting pressure on the British empire not only in the New World, but also in the Indian Ocean where Mysore appeared a cause of weakness for Britain with the potential of the American Patriots. This threat remained apparent even after the British naval victory in 1782 and the end of the war. British diplomatic correspondence and political speculation in 1783–7 was replete with suggestions of renewed French action against Britain and its empire. This anxiety was not restricted to the relevant ministries, notably the Foreign Office and the Admiralty, but was also shared by Pitt, who discussed naval matters as well as foreign policy and the interaction of the latter with commercial lobbying.54 Pitt’s interest was significant because Cabinet consultation played a role in policy, which encouraged the distribution of diplomatic papers to ministers.55 Anxiety about France was strengthened by the strong fears that it would succeed in holding its wartime anti-British alliance in place, and thus leave Britain vulnerable. This fear helped account for British hopes of a breakdown in Austro-French relations,56 diplomatic initiatives towards the Continental powers, notably Austria and Prussia, but also Denmark and Sweden,57 and the strong determination to support the anti-French side in Dutch politics. Concern over French moves and intentions helped lead to the ministerial divisions and political controversy over the Eden Treaty with France in 1786. The geopolitics of concern suggested that there would be another war in the sequence of Anglo-Bourbon conflicts, indeed possibly one that was as traumatic for Britain as the recent loss of the American colonies. Thus, 1783–7 was not regarded by contemporaries as some post-war period of peaceful regrouping, but an anxious one that appeared self-evidently interwar and with reform, renewal and retrenchment all clearly aimed at such preparedness. The Dutch Crisis of 1787 really brought that to a close, and by the time Britain next faced the prospect of war with France, in 1790 in the Nootka Sound Crisis, the situation appeared far more benign for Britain; only to reverse greatly from late 1792. The growing salience of Dutch politics in the mid-1780s, with France and Britain supporting rival outcomes, had been crucial, as it brought together colonial anxieties for both powers with differences in power politics. More

George to Carmarthen, 4 Oct. 1785, BL. Add. 27914 fol. 9. Pitt to Carmarthen, 10 Ap., 30 Oct., 2 Nov. 1784, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 30, 64–7. 55 Pitt to Carmarthen, 24 June, 11 Dec. 1784, BL. Eg. 3498 fols 41, 90. 56 Fox to Keith, 29 July 1783, Carmarthen to Keith, 23 Jan., 21 Sept. 1784, NA. FO. 7/7–9. 57 Carmarthen to Elliot, 7 Sept., 22 Oct. 1784, NA. FO. 22/6 fols 269–70, 296–7. 53 54

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particularly, the issue was thrown to the fore by growing violence in the United Provinces and the instability that provoked consideration of foreign intervention. The need to act, or not to act, the latter also a matter of decision, was such that broader issues were refocused and, in September/ October 1787, Prussia, encouraged by Britain, acted far more decisively and successfully than France. The Dutch Crisis was an almost seamless success, at least in a retrospect that ignored significant Anglo-Prussian tensions as well as concerns about whether the French would act militarily. There were also other fortuitous aspects of the crisis that helped ease it for Britain. The developing Balkan crisis, with Russia at war with Turkey and Austria soon to join in, meant that countervailing pressure could not be exerted from either or both against Prussia and on behalf of France. In some respects, there was a reversal of the geopolitics of the War of the Bavarian Succession (1778–9) in that France was not left free to engage Britain by Prussia being otherwise engaged; while, in turn, Britain in 1787 was not weakened by a trans-oceanic conflict. At the same time, the difficulties of reading from one crisis to another, for example France’s lack of value as an ally in 1787 throwing light on its prospects as such in 1772–3, were exemplified by the nature of international relations. In particular, any argument that Britain earlier should have allied with a Continental power in order better to be able to put pressure on France has to take note of the imponderable nature of these powers’ other commitments. Doing so at the time was underplayed by the frequent practice of attributing the actions of others to British or French intervention. Thus, in 1787, the Turkish declaration of war on Russia was blamed on Sir Robert Ainslie, the well-connected British envoy. There was also a practice of explaining Swedish decisions in terms of British, French or Russian influence, a practice that continued even after the ‘Age of Liberty’ ended in 1772.58 The same was the case for Denmark and Naples. Doing so helped make Europe appear as a system, with mutual interactions linking its parts in an intended fashion. That, indeed, is one interpretation of international relations, and it was certainly the case that effort was expended accordingly, as when Carmarthen pressed for the formation of a ‘system’ that ‘would operate so forcibly on the general system of Europe’.59 In protecting India, Carmarthen, in an echo of the views of Pitt the Elder with regard to America, also saw it as necessary to find ‘employment for that restless spirit [France] on the Continent of Europe’.60 More dramatically, William Fraser frameworked his wish for a league with ‘the Great Northern Powers’ with the call to stem: ‘the torrent of Bourbon arrogance, treachery

M. Roberts, British diplomacy and Swedish politics, 1758-1773 (Minneapolis, Minn., 1980). Carmarthen to Pitt, 28 Sept. 1784, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 56. 60 Carmarthen to Keith, 23 Ap. 1784, NA. FO. 7/8. 58 59

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and the thirst of universal slavery, which the four quarters of the globe are at this moment, without seeming to know it, in danger of submitting to’.61 Moreover, this systemic view was taken further by arguing that necessary alignments existed but could be thwarted by state policies directed by cabals who might well be separate from the formal mechanisms of government or, indeed, as was frequently argued, hostile to it. The policies of the French secret du roi, an anti-Russian tendency from the late 1750s, fitted into this pattern. So also did the argument that British policy in the 1780s was being directed by George III and select ministers to the benefit of Hanover and in clear opposition to Russia. This latter view drew in part on the account of Ainslie’s actions at Constantinople62 and was influenced by the perception of the roles of other British envoys, notably the hyper-active Joseph Ewart at Berlin and the combative Hugh Elliot at Copenhagen. Separate, however, from the supposed existence of such cabals, and/or alternative policies vying for approval, comes the question of their influence. It was easy to explain unwanted steps elsewhere by arguing that hostile envoys had played a key role, generally one furthered by bribery, and doing so served to distract attention from earlier protestations of inevitable success. That was a longstanding characteristic of diplomacy, and one possibly accentuated in Europe from the late seventeenth century as the ebbing (not ending) of the acute animosities of the Wars of Religion (c. 1521–1648) was replaced by the need to explain developments in the different diplomatic age following the mid-century crisis and the peace-treaties. The approach emphasizing deceit and secret influence both cut across geopolitical ideas of lasting interest, but also, paradoxically, affirmed it by implying that there were clear-cut goals to pursue were it not for such influences. That tendency was affirmed further by a range of intellectual developments that had normative force as well as descriptive power. Key elements can be grouped in terms of the pursuit of mechanistic models linked to the Scientific Revolution and the cult of reason related to Enlightenment precepts with the latter particularly influential in the thought of the early American republic about a new international order. To move from these precepts to the reality of the late 1780s was made more difficult because the latter period appeared to prefigure a collapse of the European international order every bit as serious as anything seen in 1775–83. The years of the American War of Independence, despite the forebodings of the Spanish government, had seen much more stability in outcome than might have been anticipated, as there was no follow-through into revolution in the other New World empires of European powers: a Fraser to Keith, 23 Ap. 1784, BL. Add. 35531 fol. 240. T.C.W. Blanning, ‘ “That Horrid Electorate” or “Ma Patrie Germanique”? George III, Hanover and the Fürstenbund of 1785,’ Historical Journal, 20 (1977), pp. 311–44; J. Black, ‘Sir Robert Ainslie: His Majesty’s Agent-provocateur? British Foreign Policy and the International Crisis of 1787,’ European History Quarterly, 14 (1984), pp. 253-83.

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major rebellion in Peru was both unrelated and suppressed. Indeed, Spanish success in doing so provided no hints of the fatal difficulties that were subsequently to be faced by Spain. There was also no expansion of the American Revolution to the other British colonies, either in Canada or in the Caribbean. Once independent, moreover, the Americans did not match the Europeans in developing a large fleet. Indeed, the initial absence of a federal revenue base helped ensure that there was no navy, for, once independence was won, the Continental Navy, itself weak, was disbanded, its last ship being sold in 1785. The lack of the necessary infrastructure of bureaucracy and naval dockyards was a key problem and contrasted with the situation in Europe.63 The situation was not to change until a combination of Federalist government and the Quasi War with France led to the build-up of a navy from 1794 and, even more, 1797.64 Keen to suggest that Britain heed a French willingness for the two powers uniting in ‘some solid plan of permanent peace’, Eden noted a sense of a menacing geopolitical transformation: many of the most considerable and efficient people talk with little reserve of the dangers to be apprehended from the revolted colonies, if they should be encouraged to gain commercial strength and consistency of government.65 Napoleon in 1816 was to follow suit, telling, in the aftermath of the AngloAmerican War of 1812, Lieutenant-Colonel Mark Wilks, Governor of St Helena, where he was being held prisoner: your [British] coal gives you an advantage we cannot possess in France. But the high price of all articles of prime necessity is a great disadvantage in the export of your manufactures . . . your manufacturers are emigrating fast to America. . . . In a century or perhaps half a century more, it will give a new character to the affairs of the world. It has thriven upon our follies.66 But earlier, in the late 1780s, any general geopolitical reading from the American Revolution to a wider crisis for European powers in the Americas, still less in the world as a whole, as a result of developments there, appeared questionable. This might seem merely to be a matter of timing, and it was certainly the case that the situation looked very different by 1824, which, far 63 J.B. Hattendorf, ‘The Formation and the Roles of the Continental Navy, 1775-1785,’ in J.B. Hattendorf, Talking about Naval History (Newport, RI, 2011), p. 200. 64 F.C. Leiner, Millions for Defense: The Subscription Warships of 1798 (Annapolis, MA., 2000). 65 Eden to Carmarthen, 6 June 1786, NA. FO. 27/19 fol. 116. 66 BL. Add. 57315 fol. 39.

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from being a different world was nearly as close to the end of the period covered in this book as the start of that period. Yet again, however, there is a need for caution, for the successful revolutions from 1791 in SaintDomingue, Brazil, and the mainland Spanish colonies, were not matched in the other French Caribbean islands, Canada, Cuba, or the British, Danish and Dutch West Indies. Alongside this emphasis on specificity, comes the aftermath of the American Revolution. Far from propounding a universal creed for change that it then sought to implement, the new American state did not prefigure, nor face the challenges of its French Revolutionary counterpart in the 1790s. There was no earlier equivalent to the Monroe Doctrine of 1823, warning European states against further intervention in the New World, and nor was America in a position to give force to one. A renewed attack on Canada was not launched until 1812, and such an attack was certainly not the policy of the Federalists who dominated the new state until the 1800 presidential election brought Thomas Jefferson to power. Thus, the pieces apparently shattered by the American Revolution had in many respects been less damaged than might have been anticipated. This was true both of European control in the New World, and of Britain’s overseas power. In 1783–7, British geopolitical anxieties were greatly eased by the success of the 1783 peace settlement in splitting the opposing alliance. This meant that American expansionism, had it resumed against Canada or began in the Caribbean, would not be a great threat, and also permitted the emphasis on confrontation with France that was further assisted by peace with Mysore in 1784. Tipu Sultan succeeded his father in December 1782 and pressed the British hard but suffered from the cessation of French support after France made peace with Britain. The French had been handicapped by the limited military forces they could deploy in India67 and the rivalry of their potential allies: Mysore and the Marathas, but, although unable to bring to bear the force they could deploy in North America and the Caribbean, the French had assisted Mysore to the point of causing Britain considerable difficulties; the British government was also concerned about the report that Austria was sending cannon.68 In 1783, Tipu was affected by British forces operating from separate directions, but the cost of the war to the Company led to pressure for its end while, in January 1784, the British garrison at Mangalore surrendered after a ten-month siege. The subsequent Treaty of Mangalore of 11 March was based on the status quo ante bellum, a return to the situation prior to the war, which was a standard condition of a compromise peace.

67 68

Warren Hastings to Mr Scott, 1 Feb. 1783, Bod. Ms. Eng. Lett. C.144 fol. 94. Grantham to Keith, 6 Sept. 1782, NA. FO. 7/5.

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As with Britain in the Americas, so, although the peace was seen as likely to strengthen the British position in Europe,69 Britain was left vulnerable in India.70 Indeed, Warren Hastings severely criticized the Treaty of Mangalore for failing to protect the position of Britain’s ally, the Nawab of the Carnatic. Reputation was regarded as key to position in India,71 but Britain’s had been compromised by France, although the British had been helped by the absence of any serious military challenge to Bengal, which helped ensure that their position in India was inherently more promising than that in North America. No American general had had the skill of those of Mysore, but, ultimately, the Carnatic was marginal to Bengal, and Mysore was unable to prevent the British ability to move troops from there to the Carnatic, which was a function of British naval superiority.72 The greater British commitment to India was indicated by the decision to retain regular Crown troops there once peace was restored, a presence intended as a defence against any further co-operation of France with local rulers. Despite the use of French experts to help in particular with artillery, and fears of French intervention during the Dutch Crisis of 1787, there was no such co-operation in the 1780s. However, hostilities with Tipu revived after he attacked the Rajah of Travancore, a British ally, late in 1789. In order to isolate Tipu and gain cavalry, the British allied with the Nizam of Hyderabad and the Marathas, but the latter proved unreliable because they did not wish to see Mysore crushed. In 1790, General Sir William Medows invaded Mysore in June and captured a number of positions, but, once Tipu began to counterattack, he was able to concentrate strength against isolated British posts, while avoiding battle with Medows’ main force. Launching destructive raids that threatened British logistics and communications, Tipu then advanced into the Carnatic, forcing Medows to retreat to its defence. The following year, Cornwallis had more success with a well-planned and logistically well-supported advance, but, although he advanced as far as the Mysore capital of Seringapatam, he was in no shape to take it and had to retreat.73 Only in 1792 did he have greater success, and only in 1799, in a separate conflict, was Seringapatam stormed. India was put in a wider geopolitical setting, including by ministers who were not part of the formal policymaking structure. Thus, Edward, Lord Thurlow, Lord Chancellor in 1778–83 and 1783–92, and a minister

Keith to Andrew Drummond, 14 Aug. 1784, G. Smyth (ed.), Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir Robert Murray Keith (2 vols, 1849), II, 168. 70 William Grenville to George, 1st Marquess of Buckingham, 30 Sept. 1784, HL. STG. Box 39(1). 71 Colonel William Fullarton MP to Carmarthen, 29 July 1784, BL. Eg. 3504 fol. 15. 72 G.J. Bryant, ‘Asymmetric Warfare: The British Experience in Eighteenth-Century India’, Journal of Military History, 68 (2004), p. 469. 73 Cornwallis to Medows, 15 Dec. 1790, 4 Jan. 1791, NA. PRO. 30/11/173, fols 11–12, 43–5; Anon narrative, BL. Add. 36747C fols 28–41. 69

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close to George, was capable of considering the situation for himself. Concerned about French plans in India, plans facilitated by French influence with the Dutch, Thurlow suggested that Mauritius and Réunion were of limited value to France without the latter.74 His comments reflected the increased geographical range of power that was now in consideration by non-specialists. Information was more generally a goal for ministers, as when Pitt in 1785 sought expert guidance on ‘the relative strength and situation of the different German Princes’.75 The following year, the General Chamber of Manufacturers was a key source of information during the negotiation and assessment of the commercial treaty with France. This was an international situation that required information and, apparently, fresh thought. Britain was not at the forefront of confrontation let alone conflict after 1783 in Europe, India or the Americas. Instead, it was to be the Balkans where the key disruption began, and in 1787 with the disruptor being the Turks, rather than, as might have seemed more plausible, Russia, or the Emperor Joseph II. Ainslie was not the decisive player. Russia and Turkey had already been drawn in to support competing protégés among local rulers in the Caucasus, negotiations between the two powers had failed, and the gain of Crimea by Russia in 1782–3 had been a major blow to Turkish military manpower, as well as marking the loss of a large proportion of Muslims to non-Muslim rule. Having taken the initiative in 1786–7 to reimpose control in Egypt, the Turks decided to fight until the Russians had been driven from Crimea and the Caucasus. This bold plan, combined with the earlier Russian Greek Project, indicated the extent to which military activity was not based on a modest, incremental path toward territorial expansion, as well as the lack of any interest in subordinating plans to Western powers. The war that began in 1787 launched a Europe-wide recasting of international relations, one that challenged the existing assumptions of the respective powers while adding the dynamics of the unpredictabilities both of the conflict itself and of the others to which it led, notably between Sweden and Russia. As the Atlantic state with the most extensive alliance system, it was France that saw its foreign policy accordingly crumble at the same time as it was affected by growing domestic political and fiscal problems.76 In return, Britain became more interventionist, so that by 1790 it was planning to play a major role in the recasting of Eastern Europe, policies that had been pursued without success in the late 1710s and the Thurlow [to Pitt?], no date but late 1787, NA. PRO. 30/8/183 fol. 187. Pitt to Carmarthen, 27 Ap. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fol 108. 76 R. Stone, The Genesis of the French Revolution: A Global-Historical Interpretation (Cambridge, 1994); O.T. Murphy, The Diplomatic Retreat of France and Public Opinion on the Eve of the French Revolution, 1783–1789 (Washington, D.C., 1998); J.J. Whiteman, Reform, Revolution and French Global Policy, 1787–1791 (Aldershot, 2003). 74 75

PICKING UP THE PIECES, 1783–90

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early 1750s. That was to be a lesson learned anew with the failure of such ambitions and confrontation in the Ochakov Crisis in 1791, but, meanwhile, a bifurcation in European international relations provided Britain with the opportunity in 1788–9 to focus on the domestic issues of the Regency Crisis without serious fear of a role in foreign conflict. Moreover, just as the need to rethink the nature of the British empire had been pushed forward in the aftermath of the conquest of Canada in 1758–60, with major changes in policy as a result toward the Thirteen Colonies, now the same was even more true in the aftermath of failure. Aside from an emphasis on the need for military preparations in the face of those of France,77 an emphasis that was stronger than that after 1783, there were changes in policy in existing parts of the empire, while the latter was expanded in the late 1780s, notably with the establishment of bases in Malaya (1786) and Australia (1788). At the same time, there was growing interest in the possibility of selling British manufactured goods to Asian markets.78 Moreover, prefiguring the policies followed when the two powers were at war after France’s conquest of the Netherlands in 1795, Dundas, as an ally, sought from the Dutch in 1787 the use of Cape Town, Trincomalee and Batavia (Djakarta) in time of war.79 Vigour was a theme in India, as in 1788 when Cornwallis, now Commander-in-Chief and Governor General, decided to end procrastination and pursue the claim to the circar (territory) of Guntur (Guntour) against Nizam Ali Khan of Hyderabad by force, using diplomacy simply to secure the settlement: It will be most expedient that our troops should march into the Circar on Kennaway’s arrival at Masulipatam [the chief town]; and that our present Resident, Meer Hussein, should about ten days before inform the Nizam of our intention, giving the most positive assurances that our design was entirely limited to the taking possession of the Circar as our undoubted right by treaty.80 The result justified Cornwallis’s optimism. The period ended with Britain, after defeat in the American War of Independence, in a stronger position, in both absolute and relative terms, than would have seemed conceivable. That all this was to be swept aside from 1791, with failure in the Ochakov Crisis, the attempt to pressure Russia into returning territory seized from the Turks, followed by renewed isolation,

Dundas to Sydney, – Nov. 1784, NA. PRO. 30/11/112 fol. 60. Garbett to Lansdowne, 15, 20, 25 Sept. 1787, 22 Ap. 1789, 31 Aug., 24 Sept. 31 Oct., 1 Nov. 1791, Mr Scott to Directors of East India Company, no date, Thomas Perceval to Garbett, 5 Dec. 1792, BL. Bowood 17–18. 79 Dundas to Grenville, 2 Sept., Grenville to Harris, 26 Sept. 1787, BL. Add. 59364 fols 98, 174. 80 Cornwallis to Sir Archibald Campbell, 12 Ap. 1788, NA. PRO. 30/11/159 fols 123–4. John Kennaway was the new Resident. 77 78

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and then, more seriously, the rise and aggressiveness of Revolutionary France, was but the latest instance of an inherent unpredictability that could not be effectively disguised by talk of systems and obvious national and international interests. So also with domestic affairs. Pitt brought political stability and administrative improvement. Parliamentary enquiries revealed serious deficiencies in fiscal administration, and parliamentary accountability thus helped lead to improvement, a process that North could not really achieve but that Pitt the Younger did.81 However, all of this was dependent on political circumstance, and was challenged by the Regency Crisis in 1788–9. The sheer contingency of developments and the abrupt limitations of looking too hard for patterns in the past, emerge repeatedly in this book. Historians owe it to the past to understand its attitudes and uncertainties, rather than to smother them in a misleading pattern.

E.A. Reitan, Politics, Finance and the People: Economical Reform in England in the Age of the American Revolution, 1770–92 (Basingstoke, 2007). 81

CHAPTER TEN

Conclusions George II, Newcastle and Pitt the Elder were all memories in 1790, and a different age seemed at play with the Bastille already stormed in France and an independent America under George Washington, President from 1789 to 1797. It is easy to understand in such a context that unpredictable developments and discontinuities in circumstances and tone should be to the fore. That has been a theme of this work, but that theme could be rephrased somewhat differently, because I am arguing that these characteristics did not interrupt, or indeed reverse, well-established trends but, instead, were inherent aspects of an intrinsically unstable situation that contemporaries sought to make more graspable by repeated references to systems, a process later repeated by many scholars. In part as a consequence, because systems were present in time as well as space, the past had a resonance, and even more so because it was weaponized in terms of the divisions of British politics. Those of the 1740s were in many respects in the shadow of the Peace of Utrecht of 1713, while those of the period after 1763 were in the shadow of the Peace of Paris of that year and of the ‘recovered memory’ of the Seven Years’ War, or rather a recovered memory that was enfolded around Pitt the Elder. And so subsequently, as the Victorian period looked back to the Seven Years’ War as the precursor in Britain’s rise to mastery, notably in the shape of the triumphs of the Napoleonic War. This presentation remained potent into the twentieth century; and proved appropriate and useful in the Second World War, with Churchill writing the preface for a 1940 edition of Pitt the Younger’s war speeches.1 The rise to imperial power, however, thereafter completely ceased to be a workable national narrative, while academic scholarship itself moved increasingly into social history, and popular history into a more democratic account of ordinary people. Foreign policy, and the related topics of war, geopolitics and high politics, retained an academic following, but, with the

1

R. Coupland (ed.), The War Speeches of William Pitt, the Younger (London, 1940). 169

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rising interest in social and cultural issues, it was slight. Nevertheless, that very situation meant that specific views could gain greater traction. There was room largely for a discussion of foreign policy in which diplomacy was to the fore, rather than domestic circumstances, and that became increasingly the practice, not least because research on diplomatic sources was easier than the often bitty, and more opaque, material when considering domestic pressures in policy formation. Thus, the views of diplomats of the period found a new voice, and notably so in criticizing the most cautious stance of what we might call the Treasury view, one certainly held by Sir Robert Walpole and Henry Pelham when First Lords of the Treasury. The latter view, however, was not limited to most of those responsible for the finances. Instead, an emphasis on a cautious, non-interventionist ‘posture’, one that also looked back to Tory views in the early eighteenth century was also seen with other influential ministers, such as Lord Chancellor Thurlow.2 This thesis vied with the assessment that, however desirable, such a non-interventionist posture was impossible due to the moves of other powers,3 but, in turn, the latter assessment was to a degree compromised by concerns about the resulting complications.4 Separately, the tendency to favour interventionism when assessing the past was, to a degree, given a political grounding by the rising debate over Britain’s modern links with or within Europe, and the view accordingly, seen most clearly in the account by Brendan Simms,5 that Britain should have committed more to European power politics in the eighteenth century. The alternative to the focus on European power politics was not the exposition of the Treasury viewpoint, with its caution about interventionism, but rather a strand of scholarship, particularly strong in America, that centred on Britain’s oceanic interests and treated them as necessarily central to British policy. In the case of the latter, there was, however, a different question of emphasis; that between the New World and Asia, and the Boston Tea Party demonstrated that to hold them in equilibrium could fail. There was certainly in our period a chronological shift of attention toward Asia, and one in which public finances played a key role. Thus, in 1785, taking forward the link briefly established by conquest in 1762, the Chairman and Deputy Chairman of the East India Company told Carmarthen, the Foreign Secretary, that they wanted a direct communication between Manila and India, so as to bring South American silver, via the Spanish colony of the Philippines, to the East India Company, thereby linking the two imperial trading systems.6

Thurlow to Stafford, no date, NA. PRO. 30/29/1/15 no. 69. Carmarthen to Pitt, 9 June 1784, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 36. 4 Pitt to Carmarthen, 24 June 1784, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 40. 5 Simms, Three Victories. 6 Carmarthen to Pitt, 17 Jan. 1785, BL. Eg. 3498 fol. 96. 2 3

CONCLUSIONS

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At one level, tensions in academic discussion, whether ironically, or more plausibly as one should expect, echo differences at the time (both past and present), and with the same confusion not only of goals and means, but also of different-order priorities. Moreover, there is the problem posed by the running together of remarks made as part of the rhetoric of politics and the debate of persuasion, with those that more succinctly and precisely describe policy goals. What is sometimes missing in all scholarly analyses is the shock of simultaneity, as ministers confronted issues, information and opinions across a range of spheres. Furthermore, they did so without the centralized administrative policy structures of some modern states; although the ad hoc nature of policymaking in other modern states suggests a parallel with the personal links, inchoate conciliarism, factional politics, and limited bureaucratic practice, of late eighteenth century Britain. There was certainly a greater degree of uncertainty in domestic politics, foreign policy, imperial affairs, and warfare than pattern-makers have been apt to assume. At the same time, the situation in Britain was more regularized than in the case of its opponents, in large part due to the roles of Parliament, the Bank of England, and the National Debt. For France to compete, fiscal reform was presented as necessary.7 Furthermore, public accountability was to the fore in Britain, as unsuccessful commanders discovered, and also Warren Hastings, the Governor, then Governor-General of the Presidency of Fort William (Bengal) from 1772 to 1785, who was impeached for corruption in 1787, being acquitted in 1795. In addition, despite its frequent internal disputes, the East India Company was a corporation of seamless continuity and was competing in India with personalized autocracies which were dependent on strong leadership and which could be vulnerable to succession crises. The latter seriously affected the Marathas, although not Mysore in 1782. More generally, the British benefited in India from the post-feudal, non-personalized nature of their military command systems and command philosophy, especially the emphasis on discipline and the application of reason and science to command problems. Captain Robert Stuart, commander of a sepoy battalion in India in 1773, was convinced harshly (and racially) that only his firepower–linked definition of discipline would allow his unit to prevail: As the superiority of English sepoys over their enemies, as likewise their own safety, consist entirely in steadiness, and attentiveness to the commands of their officers, it is ordered that no black officer or sepoy pretend to act or quit his post without positive orders to that purpose from an European officer . . . should any man fire without orders, he is to

7

St James’s Chronicle, 1 Sept. 1763.

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be put to death upon the spot . . . regularity and obedience to orders are our grand and only superiority.8 The simultaneity of events and issues confronting ministers meant that British policy was at once European and oceanic, but without that dictating any particular set of operational outcomes, whether in political or in military terms. Indeed, the operational dimension was in large part set in response to the possible, alleged, and/or real, moves of the other powers at play: for, with individual powers able to decide whether or not to intervene in commitments and/or conflicts, there was no fixed international system and, instead, talk of ‘unnatural’ connections.9 This dependence on others was very necessarily the case, whether considering the location of warships or the establishment of often costly diplomatic counter-measures. Dynastic chance threw uncertainty into greater prominence, as in early 1762 when the British government mistakenly hoped that the death of Tsarina Elizabeth would lead to peace between Austria and Prussia.10 Public debate in Britain in this case aligned with ministerial hopes, which is an indication of the need to be cautious subsequently in criticizing the former. On 6 February, the Monitor declared that: the changes that happen in the political world, are the effects of perishable, inconstant, and corrupt man, brought about by death, by timorous, unsettled or revengeful councils, or by bribery and corruption. Austrian and Dutch ingratitude were cited, and the hope expressed that, thanks to chance factors, the ‘grand alliance’ might be renewed in order to defend ‘public liberty’ from the Bourbons. This possibility led to a view of international relations as essentially anarchic: . . . as these extraordinary changes in the political state of the world convince us, that there is nothing binding and permanent among princes: that passion and private interest are the chief movers in all their actions: that no treaties are sufficient to ascertain how far any potentate is obliged to proceed with his ally; and that all engagements and leagues are forced to yield to necessity: let us wait with a little patience . . . which, it was argued, might lead to Austria and Sardinia turning to Britain.11 From a different political perspective, Joseph Yorke, an experienced diplomat, repeatedly pointed out the extent of unpredictability, noting of

Stuart, orders, BL. Add. 29198 fols 120, 123. Titley to Bute, 6 Feb. 1762, NA. SP. 75/114; London Evening Post, 23 Feb. 1762. 10 Bute to Mitchell, 6 Feb., Bute to Keith, 23 Feb. 1762, BL. Add. 6820 fols 18–20, 25. 11 Monitor, 6 Feb. 1762. 8 9

CONCLUSIONS

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Russia in 1763: ‘the faction of a night may overturn what to the world appears at present well established’. Twenty years later, William Fraser varied the image by referring to Europe as having ‘lost the principles of sound policy’ instead, ‘like individuals’ being ‘guided by the prevailing passion of the day’.12 That view of the long-service foreign policy bureaucrat was also the impression of Carmarthen the following year: The very contradictory reports daily propagated in respect to the views and intentions of the principal powers of Europe are almost beyond the limits of newspaper speculation, and I do not believe a period ever existed in which so much was surmised and so little really known.13 At the same time, opponents were regarded as consistent in their malice, for Carmarthen observed nine days later: the state of the finances and general appearance of distress in many of the great mercantile towns in France ought to render that Court sincere in her pacific professions. But no consideration upon earth will in my opinion ever induce that restless power to render her ambition or resentment at all subservient to the clearest and most evident interests of her subjects.14 The unfixed nature of the operational dimension in the diplomatic sphere was matched in its military counterpart. Indeed, modern schematic confidence in the systemic effectiveness of the British system, notably its finances and its imperial reach, should be counterpointed with the more guarded awareness of contemporaries. Issues with implementation were manifold and found across this reach. For example, amphibious operations were very much vulnerable to the weather. Preparing to attack the French coast, Charles, 3rd Duke of Marlborough wrote from the English Channel off Cherbourg in June 1758: We had been excessive unlucky in our winds as I was prevented three days ago from landing on the coast of Normandy by a gale of wind . . . last night I had everything ready to attack the forts of this place, just before we stepped into the boats the wind blew so excessive hard that we were forced to desist, and have had great difficulty in preventing some of the transports from being blown on shore.15

12 Yorke to Weston, 20 May 1763, Fraser to Keith, 7 Nov. 1783, BL. Add. 58213 fol. 247, 35530 fol. 158; See also Fraser to Keith, 17 Sept. 1784, BL. Add. 35532 fol. 252 and Buckinghamshire to Halifax, 26 May, 17 June, 1 July 1763, NA. SP. 91/71 fol. 263, 91/72 fols 12, 28. 13 Carmarthen to Keith, 18 June 1784, NA. FO. 7/8. For Chancellor Kaunitz of Austria taking the same view of the Turks, Noailles to Vergennes, 25 Aug. 1784, AE. CP. Aut. 348 fol. 30. 14 Carmarthen to Keith, 27 July 1784, NA. FO. 7/9. 15 Marlborough to his wife, Elizabeth, 30 June 1758, BL. Add. 61667 fol. 22.

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In turn, General Studholme Hodgson, commander of the eventually successful British expedition to Belle-Île on the Breton coast in 1761, reported at one stage, ‘we could get nothing landed yesterday, it blew so excessively hard’.16 Very differently, the correspondence during 1781–3 between George, Lord Macartney, Governor of Madras, and Sir Eyre Coote, the British commander in India, was full of references to financial and other problems, as was their correspondence with others. In July 1781, Macartney put pressure on the British authorities in more affluent Bengal: the extreme scarcity of grain, the impractability of getting means of drawing or carrying artillery, provision, and baggage, so as to enable the army to quit the borders of the sea, by which it is now supplied, the want of cavalry essential to oppose Hyder [Haidar Ali] with real effect, and our total inability to pay the army, which is about three months in arrears, afford but a gloomy prospect to an attentive observer.17 That November, Macartney added, ‘If you don’t send us a large sum of money very soon, we must disband our army. The arrears are great.’18 There was both confidence that money could be sent and a sense of fragility on the frontier of power, a combination also seen with commanders in North America. In Britain itself, the unfixed nature of the operational dimension had to be supported by parliamentary funds and, for this and other reasons, was exposed to the constraints and context of political argument, with the justification that required. Consistency was part of the debate, with opposition commentators finding inconsistencies with past policy and/or with their view of the national interest. That element again placed a requirement on the policy debate and exposition. Indeed, the operational dimension did not end the underlying strategic question of how best to foster a motivation, logic and means to pursue interests in a number of spheres, and how to win and maintain support for these policies. That was the central policy question, in war and peace, and across the range of ministries. It remains the question today.

Hodgson to Barrington, Secretary at War, 29 Ap. 1761, NA. WO. 1/165, p. 340. Macartney to Warren Hastings, 11 July 1781, BL. Add. 22454 fol. 6. 18 Macartney to John Macpherson, 27 Nov. 1781, BL. Add. 22456 fol. 8. 16 17

SELECTED FURTHER READING Aston, Nigel and Clarissa Campbell Orr (eds), An Enlightenment Statesman in Whig Britain. Lord Shelburne in Context, 1737–1805 (Woodbridge, 2011). Black, Jeremy. British Foreign Policy in an Age of Revolutions 1783–1793 (Cambridge, 1994). Black, Jeremy Parliament and Foreign Policy in the Eighteenth Century (Cambridge, 2004). Black, Jeremy, Debating Foreign Policy in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Farnham, 2011). Black, Jeremy (ed.), The Tory World: Deep History and the Tory Theme in British Foreign Policy, 1679–2014 (Farnham, 2015). Bowen, Huw, Revenue and Reform: The Indian Problem in British Politics, 1757–1773 (Cambridge, 1991). Brewer, John, Party Ideology and Popular Politics at the Accession of George III (Cambridge, 1976). Brewer, John, The Sinews of Power: War, Money and the English State, 1688–1783 (London, 1989). Brooke, John, The Chatham Administration 1766–1768 (London, 1956). Brown, Peter, The Chathamites (London, 1967). Browning, Reed, The Duke of Newcastle (New Haven, CT, 1975). Bullion, John, A Great and Necessary Measure: George Grenville and the Genesis of the Stamp Act, 1763–1765 (Columbia, MO, 1982). Bullion, John, Prelude to Disaster: George III and the Origins of the American Revolution, 1751–1763 (Berne, 2017). Cannon, John, The Fox-North Coalition: Crisis of the Constitution 1782–84 (Cambridge, 1969). Christie, Ian, The End of North’s Ministry 1780–1782 (London, 1958). Cobban, Alfred, Ambassadors and Secret Agents: The Diplomacy of the First Earl of Malmesbury at The Hague (London, 1954). Conway, Stephen, The British Isles and the War of American Independence (Oxford, 2000). Conway, Stephen, Britain, Ireland and Continental Europe in the Eighteenth Century (Oxford, 2011). Danley, Mark and Patrick Speelman (eds), The Seven Years’ War: Global Views (Leiden, 2012). Doran, Patrick, Andrew Mitchell and Anglo-Prussian Diplomatic Relations during the Seven Years War (New York, 1986). Dull, Jonathan, The French Navy and American Independence: A Study of Arms and Diplomacy (Princeton, NJ, 1975). 175

176

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Dull, Jonathan, A Diplomatic History of the American Revolution (New Haven, CT, 1985). Ehrman, John, The Younger Pitt. The Years of Acclaim (London, 1969). Hall, Thadd, France and the Eighteenth-Century Corsican Question (New York, 1971). Harlow, Vincent, The Founding of the Second British Empire 1763–1793 (2 vols, London, 1952–63). Hoffmann, Ronald. and Albert, Peter (eds), Diplomacy and Revolution: the Franco-American Alliance of 1778 (Charlottesville, VA, 1981). Horn, D.B., British Public Opinion and the First Partition of Poland (Edinburgh, 1945). Hornsby, S.J., British Atlantic, Atlantic Frontier. Spaces of Power in Early Modern British America (Lebanon, NH, 2005). Hutson, James, John Adams and the Diplomacy of the American Revolution (Lexington, KY, 1980). Langford, Paul, The First Rockingham Administration 1765–1766 (Oxford, 1973). Lawson, Philip, George Grenville: A Political Life (Oxford, 1984). Lockwood, M., To Begin the World Over Again. How the American Revolution Devastated the Globe (New Haven, CT, 2019). Mackesy, Piers, The War for America 1775–1783 (London, 1964). Madariaga, Isabel de, Britain, Russia and the Armed Neutrality of 1780 (London, 1962). McCusker, J.J. and R.R. Menard, The Economy of British America 1607–1789 (Williamsburg, VA, 1985) Middleton, Richard, The Bells of Victory: The Pitt-Newcastle Ministry and the Conduct of the Seven Years’ War 1757–1762 (Cambridge, 1985). Morris, Richard, The Peacemakers. The Great Powers and American Independence (New York, 1970). Murphy, Orville, Charles Gravier, Comte de Vergennes: French Diplomacy in the Age of Revolution 1719–1787 (Albany, NY, 1982). Olwell, Robert A. and James M. Vaughan (eds), Envisioning Empire. The New British World from 1763 to 1773 (London, 2019). Page, Anthony, Britain and the Seventy Years War, 1744–1815: Enlightenment, Revolution and Empire (Basingstoke, 2014). Rice, Geoffrey, The Life of the Fourth Earl of Rochford, 1717–1781 (Lewiston, NY, 2010). Riley, J.C., International Government Finance and the Amsterdam Capital Market 1740–1815 (Cambridge, 1980) Roberts, Michael, Splendid Isolation 1763–1780 (Reading, 1970). Roberts, Michael, British Diplomacy and Swedish Politics 1758–1773 (London, 1980). Scott, Hamish. British Foreign Policy in the Age of the American Revolution (Oxford, 1990). Schweizer, Karl (ed.), Lord Bute: Essays in Re-interpretation (Leicester, 1988). Schweizer, Karl, England, Prussia and the Seven Years’ War: Studies in Alliance Policies and Diplomacy (Lewiston, NY, 1989). Schweizer, Karl (ed.), Statesmen, Diplomats and the Press – Essays on 18th Century Britain (Lewiston, NY, 2002). Schweizer, Karl (ed.), Parliament and the Press, 1689–1939 (Edinburgh, 2006).

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Simms, Brendan. Three Victories and a Defeat: The Rise and Fall of the First British Empire (London, 2007). Spencer, Frank (ed.), The Fourth Earl of Sandwich: Diplomatic Correspondence 1763–1765 (Manchester, 1961) Stockley, Andrew, The European Powers and the Peace Negotiations of 1782–1783 (Exeter, 2001). Thomas, Peter, Lord North (London, 1976). Tracy, Nicholas, Navies, Deterrence and American Independence: Britain and Seapower in the 1760s and 1770s (Vancouver, 1988). Vaughan, James, The Politics of Empire at the Accession of George III: The East India Company and the Crisis and Transformation of Britain’s Imperial State (New Haven, CT, 2019).

178

INDEX

Adams, John 157 ‘Age of Liberty’ (Sweden) 111, 115, 161 A Geographical, Historical, and Commercial Grammar (Guthrie) 43 Ainslie, Sir Robert 161–2 Althorp, George, Viscount 144 Amaru, José Gabriel Túpac 133–4 American Patriots 121–5, 127, 130–4, 136, 138, 160 Anglo-Cherokee War 100 Aranda, Count of 117, 143 Argentina 108 Armada (1588) 76 Armand, Marc 158 Australia 167 Austria attempts at mediation 135 and Bavaria 125 and the Bourbons 99 and Britain 34, 49–51, 84, 90–1, 98, 125, 172 continental alliance system idea 88 and the Crimean crisis 150 and Danzig 151 and France 15, 33, 71, 89–91, 105–6, 113, 125, 133–5, 140, 158, 160 and gains of contiguous territory 30 and Germany 157 and Hungary 97 introduction 1 and Poland 111, 113 previous iniquities of 69 and Prussia 56, 172 and Russia 161 and Seven Years’ War 33, 38 and Turkey 155–6 Austrian Netherlands 28, 40

Baldwin, Henry 39 Balkans 97, 161, 166 Baltic mast market 28 Bank of England 36, 171 Barrington, William, Viscount 119 Batavia (Djakarta) 167 Bath Chronicle 156 Bath, William, Earl of 7, 29 battle at Çesmé 31 battle of Lagos 28 battle of Minden 58 battle of Quiberon Bay 28, 57–8, 60 battle of the Saintes 136, 142 Bavaria 115, 125 Beauchamp, Lord 20 Beckford, William 56 Bedford John, Duke of 56, 75, 88–9 Belgium see Austrian Netherlands Belize 78 Belle Isle 57 Bengal 35, 56, 67, 102–3, 128–9, 165 Bihar 102 Bill of Rights 7 Bismarck, Otto von 6 Blandford, Lady 44–5 Blankett, John 131 ‘blue water’ strategy 30–4, 55, 57, 63, 69, 89 Board of Control for India 38 Boer War (1899–1902) 132 Bombay 103, 128 Boscawen, Admiral Edward 58 Boston Massacre (1770) 102 Boston Tea Party (1773) 81, 111, 118–19, 170 Boswell, James 44 Botany Bay 2 Bourbons and Anglo-Bourbon conflicts 160 179

180

INDEX

arrogance of 161–2 and Britain 104 British support for Portugal against 36 and Charles James Fox 151 and debate in Parliament 116–18 defeats and difficulties 143 defending ‘public liberty’ from 172 entry into war (1778) 121, 123 and George III 85–6 maritime and colonial plans 44–7 Newfoundland cod fisheries 84 and North America 119–20, 139 peace with (1783) 145 post-war tensions with 86, 99 risk of war with 107–8 signs of weakness 113 and War of American Independence 134 Braddock, General Edward 1 Brazil 8, 34, 164 Brest squadron 59 the Briton 65, 78–9 Browne, Francis 62 Buckinghamshire, John, Earl of 85, 95 Bunbury, Mr 20 Burges, James 13 Burgoyne, General 123 Burke, Edmund 83 Bussy, Charles, Marquis de 129 Busy Body 43 Bute, John, Earl of a broken reed 85 charge of directing policy out of office 79 and colonial taxation 101 and George III 7, 9, 16–17 idea of sending troops to Germany 52 and the Jacobites 69–70 and Portugal 36 and Senegal 37 Byng, Admiral 1, 59–60 Camden, Charles, Earl 134 Canada and America 63, 147, 164 and Britain 72, 80, 127

conquest of (1758–60) 167 defeat of plan for crushing rebellion 124 and France 139 and George II 53–4, 57 and new territories 101 and the Patriots 123, 138 and the Seven Years’ War 51 Cape Breton 65, 74 Cape Town 133, 135, 148, 167 Capper, James 39 Caribbean and America 63 and Britain 69–70, 80, 83, 133 and France 74–5, 142, 164 and Napoleon 55 restricting offensive operations to 147 and Spain 76 and the Stamp Act 87 Caribs 118 Carillon/Ticonderoga attack 60 Carlisle Commission (1779) 134 Carmarthen, Francis, Marquess 11, 21–2, 158, 161, 170, 173 Carnatic 72, 103, 128–9, 165 Cartagena attack 29 Carteret, John, Lord dangerous policies of 94–5 death of 88 and finance 103 and George II 4 and George III 7, 11 and linen tariffs 37 and William Pitt 50 Castillo del Príncipe (fortress) 88 Castries, Charles, Marquis of 159 Catherine the Great of Russia 97, 99, 104, 130, 133 Catholicism 81, 104, 138 Cavendish, Lord John 143–4 Ceylon 147 Charles III, King of Spain 15, 34, 40, 70, 87, 153 Chatham, Earl of advice for war with Spain 108 and the American War 134 as a busted flush 96, 105 and Continental commitments 44–5

INDEX

and Earl of Shelburne 141 and George II 6–7 and George III 104 into opposition 106–7 introduction 2 and legacy of past positions 88 and Newfoundland cod access 84 operating from the Lords 10 policy of 74 prominent supporter of war with Spain 75 value of interventionism 77–8 and withdrawal of Boston troops 119 Cherokee War 73 Chesterfield, Philip, Earl of 116 Child’s Coffeehouse 44 China 2, 38 Chios 31 Choiseul, Duc de 71, 86, 107–9, 113, 118 Cider Excise and Stamp Act 7 Clinton, General Sir Henry 60 Coercive Acts 119 Coke, Lady Mary 44–5 The Communication with India by the Isthmus of Suez (Baldwin) 39 ‘Concert of Europe’ 91 Condamine, Charles de La 34 The Conduct of the Allies (Swift) 23 conscription 64 Convention of Aranjuez (1779) 127 Convention of the Pardo (1738) 108 Conway, Henry 10, 116 Cook, James 100 Coote, Sir Eyre 67, 129, 148, 174 Corneille, John 66–7 Cornwallis, Charles, Earl of 33, 66, 133, 167 Corsica 9, 16, 98, 106, 130 Council, the 10–11 Crimea 126, 150, 166 Crimean War (1854–6) 132 criollos (creoles) 87 Cuba 76, 78, 80, 87–8, 142, 164 Cumberland, William, Duke of 3–4, 26, 33, 51, 53 Cunliffe, Sir Ellis 37

181

d’Aiguillon, Armand, Duke of 33, 107, 113–15, 118, 122 Danzig 151 Declaration of Independence 122–3 Declaration of Neutral Rights (1780) 130 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (Gibbon) 153 de Grasse, Admiral François 129 demobilization 70 Denmark 21, 103, 130, 151, 160–1 Diplomatic Revolution (1756) 55, 129 diplomats 19–21 Discourse on the Establishment of a National and Constitutional Force in England (Jenkinson) 65 Dominica 87 ‘Dropping the Pilot’ (Punch) 6 Dundas, Henry 38–9, 167 Dunkirk 85–6 Dunmore, John, Earl of 111 Dutch Crisis (1787) 22, 160–1, 165 ‘Eastern Question’ 97 East India Company central role of 127 a corporation of seamless continuity 171 and Joseph Yorke 42 and local military labour market 66–7 as a non-government body 35 political traction of 81 press of ministers for meetings 37 to focus on trade 154 victory at Buxar 102 East Indies 142 Eden Treaty 158, 160, 163 Eden, William 158 Egremont, Charles, Earl of 9, 37 Egypt 39, 159, 166 Elizabeth, Tsarina 172 Elliot, Hugh 22, 162 Elliot, Sir Gilbert 17 Emden 51–2 ‘Enlightened Despot’ 70 Ewart, Joseph 22, 162

182

INDEX

Falkland Islands Crisis French stance in 115 and the Gentleman’s Magazine 43 one of the most significant nearwars 108–9 opposition politicians potential use of 112 and parliamentary debate 16–17, 23 prospect of conflict 98 and the Royal Navy 27–8 and Spanish promises 113, 117 and the Westminster Journal 46 ‘false consciousness’ 95 Fauconberg, Henry, Earl 156 Ferdinand, Duke of Brunswick 51–3 Fitzherbert, Alleyne 142, 151 Florida 78, 100, 142–3, 145 Forrester, Alexander 91 Fort Duquesne (Pittsburgh) 1, 63 Fort St David, the Carnatic 66–7 Fort Shirley 87 Fox, Charles James 126, 139–43, 145, 149–52, 154–6 Fox, Henry 5, 20, 21 France and Austria 56, 90–1, 105, 113, 125, 133, 135, 140 and the Bavarian Succession 125 and Britain 8, 27–8, 33, 46–52, 57–9, 64, 89, 99–100, 105, 115–18, 122, 125, 131, 140–6, 166 and British empire 151–2, 160 and Cape Breton 49 and the Caribbean 76, 113, 127–8 and Charles III of Spain 15, 34 and the Cherokee War 62 collapse of prestige and influence 149 colonial interests of 29–32, 42, 69, 71–2, 81 and commerce 35 continental alliance system against 88 and Corsica 9, 16, 40, 106, 130 and Dunkirk failure 87 and Eastern Europe 97

and the Eden Treaty 158 exhausted by war 96 and the Falkland Islands crisis 108 finances of 41, 152, 171 and Franco-Patriots 133 and George III 112–13 and Germany 55–6 government of 13 and Hanover 126 and India 66–7, 128–9, 148 introduction 4 invasion plans 1–2, 122 and Jacobitism 134 and Louisiana 62, 78, 80–1 military forces of 26, 32, 58, 68, 107 and Minorca 1 and Native Americans 139 and the Netherlands 130, 161, 167 and Newfoundland 84, 142 and North America 25, 51, 73, 120, 123–7, 135–6, 164 and the Patriots 131 and peace plans 150, 163 and Poland 113 and Pontiac’s War 62 population of 63 and Portugal 121 and Prussia 52 and Québec 74 and the Revolution 167–8 and the Royal Navy 60, 65, 132 and Russia 151, 158–9 and Senegal 37 and Seven Years’ War 38 and siege of Madras 128 and slavery 70 and Spain 27, 33, 98, 104, 106, 108–9 and Sweden 120 Franco-American treaty 127 Franco-Patriot alliance 133 Fraser, William 13, 152, 161–2, 173 Frederick the Great and Andrew Mitchell 47–8, 59 ‘best and only way to save him’ 55 and Britain 125, 133, 135 death of 153 defence of Emden 51–3

INDEX

and ending the war 53 financial assistance to 33 ‘paid for waging his own war’ 88–9 and Peter III of Russia 38 private instructions to his ministers 13 the ‘Protestant Hero’ 78 put under great strain 57 reports of negotiations with Paris 71 sought to avoid war 104 Frederick, Prince of Wales 8, 112 French Revolutionary War 34 Fürstenbund (League of Princes) 114 Gage, General Thomas 119 Gambia 115 Ganges Valley 103 Gauld, George 87 Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser 86 General Chamber of Manufacturers 166 Genoa 98, 106 Gentleman’s Magazine 43 geopolitics 137 George I, King 5, 9, 19, 64, 79, 138, 153 George II, King clashes over troop moves 57 the Crown 3–5 and Hanover 8, 49, 79 and his heir 116 and inheritance 153 and the Militia Act 52 and the Newcastle-Pitt ministry 50 no understanding of adversarial politics 95 and the ‘Old Whigs’ 74 and Parliament 138 party identity during 19 and Pitt 57 position of 54 and retention of Cape Breton 53 and Sir Robert Walpole 152 tensions with ministers 50 Tory hostility towards 64 and views of Sir Rowland Winn 77

183

George III, King and adversarial politics 95 and American Independence 121–3, 130, 135–6 and Bavaria 125 and Bourbon assurances 86 and British policy in the 1780s 162 and Captain Palliser 42 caution of 159–60 and Charles James Fox 152–6 departure from policies of his predecessor 3–7 difficulties sustaining a ministry 85 and Duke of Grafton 105–6, 112 and Earl of Bute 17 and Earl of Chatham 104 and Earl of Shelburne 141, 145–6, 149, 153 and Edward Thurlow 12 and Falkland Islands Crisis 108 and foreign powers 104 and Fort Charlotte 78 and France 35, 115–16 and Hanover 114 and his ministers 137 illusions about a new political culture 8–9 and the Jacobites 69 lack of martial experience and interest 26 and Marquess of Rockingham 137 and North America 118–19 and Parliament 93, 104–5, 116–17 and the Peace of Paris 79 and the peerage 39 pious nature of 83 and Poland 115 policy of 74 and the Stamp Act 101–2 and strategy 22 George IV, King 8, 52, 153 George, Prince see George IV, King Georgia 63 Germain, Lord George 123 Germany alternative commitment on the Continent 121 and Austria 157

184

INDEX

British troops in 33–4, 51–2, 56–7, 68, 89, 136 France concerned about situation in 55 and Seven Years’ War 38 in World War II 30 Gibbon, Edward 1, 138, 153 Gibraltar 11, 17, 40–1, 127, 133, 135–7, 142–3 Glorious Revolution 7 Glover, Richard 36 Goldsmith, Oliver 43 gold standard 95 Gordon Riots (1780) 149 Gorée island 52–3 Grafton, Augustus, Duke of 22, 57, 105–7, 112, 143 Grantham, Thomas, Lord 141, 143, 149–50 Grant, Lewis 67 Granville, Earl see Carteret, Lord John Graves, Rear-Admiral Thomas 133 ‘Great Awakening’ 83 Great Rebellion in Peru (1780–1) 133 Grenada 76 Grenville, George 77, 85, 102–3, 116, 140–2 Grenville, Thomas 140 Grey, Charles, Earl 137 Guadeloupe 44, 60, 67, 78, 80–1, 136 Guntur (Guntour) 167 Gustavus III of Sweden 115 Guthrie, William 43 Habeas Corpus Bill 52 Haidar Ali of Mysore 103, 128, 148 Halifax, George Montagu, Earl 95 Hanover and Britain 56, 125 Commons vote of a subsidy to protect 52 constitutional practice towards 49 Continental strategy designed to protect 34 defence of in 1757 50 and France 99, 126 and George II 57 and George III 125, 162 issue of 4–5, 8

and Seven Years’ War 33 threat to 114 Harcourt, Simon, Earl of 112, 115, 118 Hardwicke, Philip, Earl 7, 12, 19, 42, 49, 74, 76–8 Harrison’s chronometer 82 Harris, Sir James 20, 22, 92, 96, 150, 155, 158 Haslang, Baron 8 Hastings, Warren 165, 171 Havana 29, 62, 76, 87–8 Hawke, Admiral Sir Edward 58, 107 Henley, Robert 57 Hertford, Francis, Earl of 20 Hesse-Cassel forces 68, 122, 126 Hillsborough, Earl of 23 Hill, Wills see Hillsborough, Earl of Hispaniola 147 The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (Gibbon) 138 History of the Reign of Emperor Charles V (Robertson) 83 Hodgson, General Studholme 174 Holdernesse, Robert, Earl of 10, 38, 47, 93 Holland see Netherlands Holy Roman Empire 5, 32 House of Commons 14, 39 Howe, Admiral Richard 122–3 Hughes, Edward 129 Hume, David 20 Imperial Election Scheme 91 India and Britain 66–7, 102–3, 111–12, 128, 139, 147–8, 159, 165 clashes over troop movements 57 conflict with the Marathas 128 and the East India Company 35, 37, 66, 100, 127, 154, 171 and France 61, 74, 152, 164 introduction 2 local military labour market 69 and Lord Carmarthen 161 and Lord Cornwallis 167 wider geopolitical character of 39 Industrial Revolution 36 ‘Inner Cabinet’ 10–11

INDEX

interventionism 89, 96, 115, 170 Ipswich Chronicle 46 Iran 61 Ireland 1–2, 56, 63 Irish militia 26 Italian Wars (1494–1559) 83 Italy 40, 84 ‘Jack Helter-Skelter’ 47 Jacobitism 1, 9, 28, 45, 65, 68–9, 122, 134 Jamaica 36, 80, 100, 136 James II, King 64 Jefferson, Thomas 119, 164 Jenkinson, Charles 22, 65, 125–6 Johnson, Samuel 113 Joseph II, Emperor 15, 105, 114, 151, 157, 166 Kaunitz, Chancellor of Austria 91, 113 Keith, Sir Robert Murray 19–20, 93, 116, 126–7 Keppel, Admiral Augustus 131 Klosterseven 4 Kurfürst (Elector of Hanover) 114 Lagos naval victory (1759) 57–8, 60 Leeds, Francis, Duke of 95 Legge, Henry 36 Leicester House 52 Levant, the 40 Lloyd’s Evening Post 46 London Chronicle 47, 86 London Evening Post 47, 75, 99 Louisbourg 54, 57, 62–3, 74 Louisiana 76, 78, 80–1, 100, 139 Louis XIV, King 97 Louis XV, King 13, 56, 108–9, 122 Louis XVI, King 56, 124–5, 146, 159 Low Countries 32, 34, 54, 63 Lower Ganges valley 67 Lyttelton, Lord 16 Macartney, Lord George 20, 104, 174 Macpherson, Sir John 147–8 Madariaga, Isabel de 96 Madras 61, 67, 103, 128–9 Madurai 103 Malaya 167

185

Malmesbury, Lord, see Harris, Sir James Manchester, George, Duke of 17 manpower 63–5 Marathas 111–12, 164, 171 Marlborough, Charles, Duke of 173 Martinique 44, 52–3, 60–2, 67, 76, 78, 80–1, 83 Massachusetts 111 Mauritius 67, 166 Maximilian 153 Medows, General Sir William 165 Mexico 100 Middleton, Sir Charles 147 Militia Act 52 militia forces 26, 65 Minchin, Humphrey 144 Minden, battle of 58 Minorca and Admiral Byng 60 British loss of 1, 31, 106, 133, 135, 145 British offer of 143 British regaining of 53, 78, 81 grave difficulties in 50 importance to Britain of 40–1, 43–4 Mitchell, Andrew 20, 38, 47–8, 59, 75, 88, 93 Monitor 23, 30, 34, 47, 55, 65, 69, 71, 75, 83, 172 Monroe Doctrine (1823) 164 Montagu, Elizabeth 7, 41, 82–3 Montcalm, General 61 Montreal 57, 74 Montserrat 36 Morin, Peter 85–6 Morro Castle, Havana 76 Mosquito Coast 74 Mughal Emperor 102 Munro, Sir Hector 102 Murray, Brigadier-General James 65 Mysore 103, 128–9, 160, 164–5, 171 Nadir Shah 66 Naples 161 Napoleon 55, 60, 146, 163 National Debt 171 Native Americans 70, 81, 87, 100–1 Nawab of Bengal 102 Nawab of the Carnatic 103, 165

186

INDEX

Netherlands and Britain 31, 127, 129, 130, 133 continental alliance system idea 88 crisis of 1787 33 empire of 35 fifth leading naval power 159 and France 70–1, 135, 149, 160 neutral during Seven Years’ War 97 and treaty of 1784 145 and Triple Alliance 93 Newcastle, Thomas, Duke of as a busted flush 74, 96 a close interest in foreign policy 11 concern about public credit 38 dangerous policies of 94 death of 116 and discussion in coffeehouses 44 and expense of fighting in Germany 56, 77 and failure to establish alliance system 105 fall of ministry 50 and George III 6–7 and Hanover 4 and Lord Rockingham 102, 103, 137 and the Militia Act 52 position of 54 and Prussia 23 and William Pitt 17, 50, 53, 138 New England 87, 111 Newfoundland 86, 142, 147 New World 69, 70 New York 127 Niagara 147 Nizam Ali Khan of Hyderabad 103, 165, 167 Nootka Sound Crisis 2, 108, 160 North America attacks on French in 97 and Britain 61, 111, 123–4, 127, 134, 136 driving the French from 57 and George III 118 and the Hessians 68 military effort to conquer Canada 53 reliance on local military labour market 69

rising tensions with 40, 50–2 role in the empire 121 and the Stamp Act 119 transformed situation in 81 Northampton, Charles, Earl of 20 Northern Circars 103 North, Frederick, Lord compared to Pitt 168 and Falkland Islands Crisis 108, 117 focussed on foreign affairs and strategy 22 Fox and Shelburne 143 and French finances 107 and George III 9, 130 and new ministerial system 6 and North America 118 and Parliament 18, 106, 144–5 in power with Fox 149, 151–2, 154–6 replacement for Grafton 112–13 resignation of 135 and war between Russia and Turkey 126 Northington, Earl of see Henley, Robert Observations on the Passage to India through Egypt (Capper) 39 Ochakov Crisis (1791) 146, 167 ‘Old Corps Whigs’ 50, 54, 74 ‘Old System’ 88 Orangist party 130 Oswald, Richard 141 Oudh territory 111–12 Owen’s Weekly Chronicle 42–3 Oxford Journal 79 Palliser, Captain 42 Panin, Count 92 Parliament role and impact of 14–19 supplying money for naval superiority 32 treaty of commerce with France 35 Patriots see American Patriots Pavillon, Buchet du 73 Peace of Ghent 135

INDEX

Peace of Paris (1763) as the basis of a new treaty 142 British geopolitical interests after 80, 99–100 did not bring harmony 85 and the disjuncture of 1762–3 78 and George III 7 and Patriots 23, 41 in the shadow of 169 terms of 140 Pelham, Henry 37–8, 74, 95, 103, 170 Penang, Malaysia 2, 39 penínsulares 87 Pennsylvania 111 Persia (Iran) 91–2 Peru 162–3 Perumbakam 128 Peter the Great 97 Peter III of Russia 38, 78, 99 Philadelphia 123, 125, 127 Philippines 2 Phillips, Major General William 123 Pitt, William the Elder see Chatham, Earl of Pitt, William the Younger charge of hypocrisy against 33 clashes with Duke of Newcastle 53 continental measures of 56 and defence of Emden 51–2 determination to go on offensive 53 explanation for sending troops to Continent 69 foreign policy of 22, 151 and Frederick the Great 53–4 and George II 50, 57 and George III 9, 104, 152, 154–7 and German Princes 166 and Hanover 60 introduction 2 justification of wartime leadership 51 ministry with Newcastle 50, 138 and naval matters 160 and Ochakov Crisis 146 opposed to Stamp Act 102 and post-war interest 147 prefiguring of his ministry 138 professionalism of 103, 168 role in the war ministries 116

187

trade treaties with France 34–5 war speeches of 169 Poland 85, 89–90, 95–7, 99, 111–12, 114–15, 117 Pombal, Marques of 34 Pondicherry 74 Pontiac’s War (1763–6) 81, 100–1, 103 Port Egmont 113, 117 Porten, Stanier 13 Porter, Sir James 88 Portrait of His Majesty (West) 130 Portugal and Britain 34, 36, 97–8 defence of 42, 68 empire of 35 and France 121, 159 and the Jesuits 83 protectionist measures in 40 and Prussia 99 and Seven Years’ War 33 and Spain 75, 122 and use of slaves 70 Potemkin, Prince 92 Pownall, Thomas 117 press gangs 64 Privy Council 11 Proclamation Line 100 Protestantism 47, 83 Prussia alliance with Britain 8, 49–51, 84, 89, 92–3, 109, 125, 140, 142 and Austria 56, 172 and British subsidy to 23, 52, 77 conscription in 26 and Danzig 151 demands for squadron for Baltic 58–9 and Frederick the Great 104 and gains of contiguous territory 30 lack of a naval force 31 links with opponents of Bute 15 and the Netherlands 130 and Poland 111, 113, 155–6 policies of 21 and Portugal 42 and Protestantism 69 and Russia 34, 104 and Seven Years’ War 33, 51 and Silesia 90

188

INDEX

and Spain 99 threat to Hanover 114 and United Provinces 161 wartime alliance with 8, 91 Puerto Rico 87 Pugachev Rising (1773–4) 130 Québec 57–8, 63, 74, 101, 104, 133 Québec Act (1774) 101 Quiberon Bay naval victory (1759) 28, 57–8, 60 Raja Chayt Singh rebellion (1781) 128 Rajah of Travancore 165 Rayneval, Joseph-Mathias-Gérard 141–2 Regency Crisis (1788–9) 22, 151, 153, 157, 167–8 Regulating Act (1773) 154 Réunion 61, 166 Richmond, Charles, Duke of 11, 143 Roberts, Michael 89, 94 Robertson, William 83 Robinson, John 22 Rochambeau, Comte de 129 Rochford, William, Earl of 5, 19, 106, 108, 113–18, 120 Rockingham, Charles, Marquess death of 141 defending the legacy of the past 88 and George III 6, 102, 104, 137, 139 long years in opposition 137 revived attempt to win Continental allies 103 views on the American War 83–4 Rohilkhand 112 The Royal Hercules Destroying the Dragon Python 156–7 Royal Magazine 83, 86, 147 Royal Navy attempt to relieve Yorktown 133 emphasis on strength of 144 a force for national goals 31–2 and the French fleet 65, 131–2 laid up in peacetime 64–5 landing troops in North America 123 provision of crucial ‘lift’ 62 strength of 27, 29

Russia alliance with Britain idea 18, 21, 85, 88, 113, 125, 140, 142 Anglo-French co-operation against 158 army of 26 attempts at mediation 130, 135 battle at Çesmé 31 and the Bourbons 99 and Britain 34, 49–50, 84, 90, 98, 103, 122, 155 and Crimea 126, 140–1, 150–1, 166 diplomatic negotiations with 88 dominance in Eastern Europe 108, 136 foreign policy of 92–3, 96, 99 and France 116 and gains of contiguous territory 30 and George Macartney 20 and Greek Project 166 introduction 1 and Joseph Yorke 173 navy of 108, 159 and the Ochakov Crisis 95 and Poland 111, 113 and Prussia 34, 104 rise of 73 and Seven Years’ War 33 supplies from 27 and Sweden 115 and Turkey 37, 43, 91–2, 98, 126, 135, 141, 150, 161, 167 Russo-Turkish war (1768–74) 116–17, 125 St Augustine 63 Saint-Domingue (Haiti) 55, 67, 76, 164 St James’s Chronicle 23, 43–4, 46 St Kitts and Nevis 87, 135 Saint-Louis 52 St Lucia 76, 78, 135 St Malo 52 St Paul, Horace 115 St Vincent 76, 103, 111, 118 Salisbury Journal 76 San Carlos de la Cabaña (fortress) 88 Sandwich, John, Earl of 10, 14, 20–1, 95, 132

INDEX

Saratoga 128 Sardinia (Savoy-Piedmont) 86, 98, 106, 156, 172 Scientific Revolution 162 Scotland 134 Scott, Hamish 89, 94 Second World War 61 secret du roi 162 Senegal 37, 52, 78, 145 sepoy units 66–7 Seringapatam, Mysore 165 Seven Years’ War (1756–63) and Austrian Netherlands 28 and Britain 25–6, 44, 57, 104, 128, 132 complacency borne of victory 70 ending of 82–3, 99 evaluation of 33 foreign protectionism after 40 formula developed in 89–90 and France 34–5, 56 and Frederick the Great’s views 33 and George II 4 and George III 116 and Hanover 49, 51 and Henry Pelham 37–8 and the Hessians 68 and interventionism 89 introduction 1 and naval and amphibious operations 31 and Portugal 121 prospect of a future war 86 ‘recovered memory’ of 169 and religion 47 Seydlitz, General 53 Shawnee tribe 111 Shelburne, William, Earl of 40, 42–3, 89, 103, 141–53, 158 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley 140 siege of Havana (1762) 25 Silesia 90 Simms, Brendan 89, 94, 170 Simolin, Ivan Matveevich 21 slavery 35–7, 52, 62–3, 69–70, 162 smuggling 40 Smyrna coffeehouse 43–4 South America 73, 122 South Carolina 63

189

Soviet Union 30 Spain and American war 127, 136 and Austria 113 and ‘blue water’ 30 and Britain 6, 34, 73, 76, 80, 99, 120–2, 142, 144 and Charles III 87 and Cuba 78 empire of 29, 35, 42, 135 and the Falkland Islands crisis 108, 113 and Florida 62–3 and France 27–8, 33, 74–5, 84, 98, 104, 106–9, 116 and Gibraltar 11, 143 Habsburg inheritance 146 lands ceded to 145 and Louisiana 78, 80–1, 100 and Minorca 81 navy of 159 and Peru 162–3 popular opposition in 130 and Portugal 83 and the Royal Navy 132 and Seven Years’ War 38 and slavery 70 xenophobic opposition to 47 Stamp Act (1765) 81, 87, 101–2, 119 Stanhope, James, Viscount 94 Stanley, Hans 71 Sterne, Laurence 55 Stone, Andrew 22 Storer, Anthony 154 Stormont, David Murray, Viscount 19, 90, 107, 118, 126, 140 Stuart, Captain Robert 171–2 Stuarts 114 Suffren, Admiral Pierre André 129, 159 Sutton, Sir Richard 144 Sweden 27, 90, 103, 107, 111–12, 115, 130, 151, 160–1, 166 Swift, Jonathan 23 Three Victories and a Defeat (Simms) 89, 94, 170 Thurlow, Edward, Lord 8, 12, 165–6, 170 Tipu Sultan 159, 164–5

190

INDEX

Tobago 36, 145 Tories 14, 126 Toulon squadron 59 Townshend, Charles, Viscount 94–5 Townshend, George 52 Townshend, Thomas 145 Travancore 67 Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle (1748) 74, 86 Treaty of Allahabad (1765) 102 Treaty of Limerick (1691) 134 Treaty of Mangalore (1784) 164–5 Treaty of Ryswick (1697) 86 Treaty of Salbai (1782) 128 Treaty of Utrecht (1713) 17, 79, 81, 86, 145, 169 Treaty of Versailles (1783) 145, 153 Trincomalee 167 Triple Alliance (1788) 93 Tristram Shandy (Sterne) 55 Turgot, Anne Robert Jacques 124 Turkey and the Balkans 97, 166 and Britain 37 and France 159 and India 148 measures to weaken 140–1 and Russia 43, 91–2, 98, 126, 150–1, 156, 159, 161, 167 submission prospect 152 ‘Turkish clause’ 90 Turks Island, West Indies 42–3, 87 United Provinces 53, 70, 161 Upper Ossory, John Fitzpatrick, Earl of 117 Vancouver Island 108 Vaudreuil, Marquis de 60 Venezuela 87 Vergennes, Charles, Count of 27, 124–5, 128–9, 140–6, 150, 158–9 Victoria, Queen 8 Victory, HMS 131 Vietnam 38 Virginia 111 Viry, Francesco, Count 11, 76 Vorontsov, Count Alexander, 21, 95 Vorontsov, Count Semyon 92, 158

Wadgaon convention 128 Walpole, Horace 76 Walpole, Sir Robert 95–6, 152, 170 War of 1812 63, 70, 134, 163 War of American Independence (1775–83) aftermath of 164 bitter disputes between commanders in 13 and Britain 25, 121–2, 124, 126, 131, 167 chaos of 8 and France 89 and the Hessians 68 introduction 1 more active policy in Indian Ocean after 38 and slavery 70 stability in outcome 127, 162 trade treaties after 40 War of the Austrian Succession (1743–8) 31, 54, 68, 91 War of the Bavarian Succession (1778–9) 55–6, 114, 125–6, 133, 140, 161 War of the First Coalition (1792–7) 99 War of Jenkins Ear (1739–48) 31, 108 War of the Polish Succession (1733–5) 96 War of the Second Coalition (1798–1802) 99 War of the Spanish Succession (1702–13) 23 Wars of Religion (1521–1648) 162 Washington, George 169 Wazir of Awadh 102 Wedderburn, Alexander 130 Wellington, Duke of 60 Wesley, John 83 West Africa 36, 52 West, Benjamin 130 West Indies 35, 52, 56, 76, 80 Westminster Journal 46–7 Weston, Edward 13, 22 Weymouth, Thomas, Viscount 107, 118 Whigs continuing legacy in Opposition 69 and grandees of Rockingham’s generation 103

INDEX

legacy of hostility to James II 64 maintained Anglo-French alliance 80 maintaining Utrecht settlement 145 meaning of the term 14 and Newcastle 50 ‘Old Corps’ 15 and problem-serving approach 66 Wilhelm II, Emperor 6 Wilkes, John 7 Wilks, Lieutenant-Colonel Mark 163

William III, King 7, 64, 88, 129, 146 William IV, King 153 Winn, Sir Rowland 77 Wolfe, James 60 ‘Year of Victories’ (1759) 1, 74 Yorke, Joseph 19, 40, 42, 59, 91, 172–3 Yusuf Khan 103

191

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194

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196