The "Seven Years' War" into which England was plunged in 1756, while still under the imbecile guidance of the elder Pelham, was the most important struggle in which she had engaged since the days of the Spanish Armada. It definitely settled all the points which had been left undetermined by the peace of Aachen, and gave her the empire of the seas and the lion's share of the commerce of the world. Her hold on these gains was to be shaken in later wars, but never lost.

The Seven Years' War, like the War of the Austrian Succession, had two sides—the Colonial and the European. In 1756, as in 1742, England, while contending for her own objects beyond seas, was also subsidizing a powerful continental ally, who had his own interests to serve, in order to distract the attention of France from the more distant struggle. The new war resembled the old in another respect. In each case it was the colonial quarrel which first came to the front; the European strife was a later development. The causes which provoked the Seven Years' War were to be found both in America and in India. In both of these quarters the representatives of England and of France came to blows before the mother countries had resolved on war. The quarrel was the result of natural causes which made it inevitable, and not the deliberate work of the timid Newcastle or the selfish Lewis XV.

It was in India that the first hostilities broke out, not very long after the peace of Aachen had been signed. We have already mentioned how the French governor Dupleix had raised an army of Sepoys, and resolved to employ it for the furtherance of French interests in Southern India. He was enabled to do this by the fact that a war of succession had broken out in each of the two great native states which were neighbours to the European settlements on the Coromandel coast. In the Deccan two princes of the Nizam family, an uncle and a nephew, were disputing for the throne of Hyderabad. In the Carnatic a rebellious minister was trying to usurp his master's throne. Dupleix resolved to sell the aid of his army to one pretender for use against the other. The appearance of his disciplined battalions in the field settled the fortune of war at once. He gained for his ally Mozuffer Jung the whole of the Hyderabad dominions. Then he turned against the Carnatic, slew the old nawab in battle, and drove his son, Mohammed Ali, into Trichinopoly, his last stronghold. The rebel minister, Chunda Sahib, was then saluted as ruler of the land. The two new nawabs soon became the mere creatures of Dupleix, whose military strength completely overawed their motley armies. They lavished millions of rupees upon him, and Mozuffer Jung gave him the title of Supreme Vizier of all India south of the river Kistnah, and appointed him permanent chief of his army.

Dupleix was in truth master of Southern India, a fact viewed with dismay by the English settlers along the Coromandel coast. They had, in rivalry with him, espoused the cause of the two nawabs whom he had crushed. One of these princes was now dead, the other besieged in his last stronghold. The rulers of Madras despaired, but a single bold spirit persuaded them to venture a blow against the power of the Frenchman. Robert Clive, the scapegrace son of a Shropshire squire, had been sent out to Madras as a clerk in the East India Company's service to keep him out of mischief. But he changed his pen for the sword, and became a captain in the Company's army. Now he persuaded Governor Saunders to entrust him with a few hundred men, to make a diversion in favour of the besieged nawab, Mohammed Ali. To draw away the army which was beleaguering Trichinopoly, Clive resolved to strike at the capital of the Carnatic, the town of Arcot. Marching by night and with great speed, he seized the place and fortified himself in its citadel. He was at once attacked by the forces of the Chunda Sahib, aided by a division of the army of Dupleix. But he contrived to inspire his 500 men with such obstinate courage, that they repulsed all the assaults of 10,000 enemies, and finally compelled the nawab's army to withdraw foiled (1751).

After thus winning Arcot, Clive was entrusted by the Madras Council with all their disposable troops—200 Europeans and 700 English Sepoys. With these reinforcements he took the field against Dupleix and Chunda Sahib, routed a number of French detachments, and finally recovered the whole of the Carnatic for Mohammed Ali, the protégé of the English. Chunda Sahib surrendered to his enemy, who had him murdered. Dupleix played a losing game against his greater rival for two more years, and was finally recalled in disgrace by the French Government (1754). Thus the English carried out the lesson which the great Frenchman had taught them, that India might be conquered with Indian arms, and that its princes might be made the vassals of the mere traders who had paid them humble tribute a few years before. With the establishment of the English suzerainty over the nawab Mohammed Ali and his realm of the Carnatic begins the English empire in Hindostan.

Clive and Dupleix had posed as the mere auxiliaries of the nawabs, and their struggle was not supposed to commit the mother country to war. But a less disguised form of hostilities between England and France commenced somewhat later in America. Its cause was the want of any definite boundary between the settlements of the two nations. It was the ambition of the English colonists to push westward from Pennsylvania and Virginia, and gradually to colonize all the waste lands, sparsely inhabited by savage Indian tribes, which lay between them and the Mississippi. But the French had another and a no less ambitious scheme. Besides their dominions in Canada, they possessed another colony at the mouth of the Mississippi, round the town of New Orleans. They claimed that this territory of Louisiana stretched up to the head-waters of the great river, and it was their object to connect it with Canada by a string of forts placed along the Mississippi and its tributary the Ohio. If they could have carried out this gigantic and wide-stretching plan, they would have shut in the English colonies between the Alleghany mountains and the sea, and prevented them from extending into the interior of the continent. The weak point of the plan was that the French were far too few in numbers to execute any such project. Though they counted among them many hardy backwoodsmen and fur-traders, who had explored all the waterways of the West, they could not back these pioneers up with solid masses of population. There were not more than 180,000 French emigrants in America, while the English colonies boasted at this time nearly 2,000,000 sturdy settlers.

In spite of this disparity of numbers, the French governors were set on executing their venturous scheme. It was their active advance into the wilderness that lay between Canada and the English colonies, that brought about the first collisions with the English outposts. The three northern links of the chain that was to join Canada with Louisiana were Fort Ticonderoga, at the south end of Lake Champlain, Fort Niagara, near the Great Falls between Lake Erie and Lake Ontario, and Fort Duquesne, at the head-waters of the Ohio. The first and last of these were a very few miles from the English back-settlements, and their establishment in 1754-55 was looked upon as a direct challenge by the inhabitants of Pennsylvania and Virginia. In 1754 a party of Virginian militia, headed by Major George Washington, of whom we shall hear much later on, made a dash on Fort Duquesne. But they were beaten and forced to surrender after a fight at Great Meadows. This provoked the colonies, and at their request General Braddock repeated the attack in the next year with a force of 2200 men, part of whom were British regulars. But he was drawn into an ambuscade by a very inferior force of French and Indians, his force was disgracefully routed, and he himself was slain. The fighting at once began to spread, and both England and France sent out reinforcements to America. Yet the two nations were still nominally at peace, and the French, who were just about to engage in a great war in Germany, were not anxious to commence hostilities with England at this particular moment. Newcastle, however, precipitated the outbreak of the struggle by a characteristic half-measure. He sent out Admiral Boscawen with orders not to attack all French ships, but to intercept a particular squadron carrying troops to Canada. Boscawen met it, and took two vessels after a fight; this made war inevitable. It broke out in the spring of 1756, and opened with a series of disasters for England, a fact which causes no surprise when we remember that her forces were under the direction of the imbecile Newcastle.

Just at the same moment another struggle was commencing on the Continent. The Empress Maria Theresa had never forgiven the King of Prussia for robbing her of Silesia in the hour of her distress, fourteen years before. She had devoted much time and trouble to forming a great coalition for the purpose of punishing the plunderer, and had secretly enlisted in her alliance France, Russia, Sweden, Saxony, and most of the smaller German states. For the unscrupulous and rapacious Frederic was not viewed with love by his neighbours, and it was easy to combine them against him. His venomous pen had made enemies of two vindictive women, Elizabeth Empress of Russia, and Madame de Pompadour, the all-powerful mistress of Lewis XV., and though political expediency did not prescribe war with Prussia to either Russia or France, yet personal resentment brought it about.

The open war between England and France had broken out in the spring of 1756. In the autumn of the same year the continental struggle began. Getting secret intelligence of the plot that was maturing against him, Frederic resolved to strike before his numerous adversaries were ready, and invaded Saxony. He overran the whole electorate and annihilated the Saxon army in a fortnight. But Austria, Russia, Sweden, and France immediately fell upon him, and he had much ado to avoid being crushed by brute force of numbers; for Prussia was but a small state of 5,000,000 souls, while the confederacy ranged against her counted half Europe in its ranks.

Alone among a host of foes, Frederic was desperately in need of an ally. And only one ally was possible—England. For both England and Prussia were now at war with France, and it was obvious that they ought to aid each other against their common foe.

Moreover, the English Government was itself sadly in need of assistance, for the war had opened with a series of disasters in more than one quarter of the world. The most serious loss had been suffered in the Mediterranean: a French fleet and army under the Duc de Richelieu had slipped out of Toulon and fallen on Minorca, the Spanish island which had formed part of England's plunder at the peace of Utrecht. The English garrison was weak, for it had always been supposed that we were strong enough at sea to prevent the enemy from approaching this important possession, which was to us then what Malta is now. But when the Mediterranean fleet under Admiral Byng came up to relieve the troops beleaguered in the citadel of Port Mahon, a disgraceful sight was seen. The English admiral, finding that the French squadron was slightly superior to his own, refused to fight, and fled away to Gibraltar, though his second in command urged him hotly to risk everything in order to save the island. The deserted garrison held out a month longer, and then was forced to surrender (June, 1756).

Nor was this the only disaster with which the Seven Years' War opened. Montcalm, the French commander in Canada, made a dash against the frontier garrisons of the British colonists in America, and took Forts Oswego and William Henry, our outposts on the North-West.

Still more shocking news was on its way home from India. The Nawab of Bengal, a cruel and debauched tyrant named Suraj-ud-Dowlah, had picked a quarrel with the governor of Calcutta, the English factory near the mouth of the Ganges. Suddenly declaring war in June, 1756, the same month that Minorca was lost, he captured Calcutta with ease. In his hour of triumph, he bade his guards thrust all his captives into the "Black Hole," a small dungeon not much more than twenty feet square, which had been wont to serve as the prison of the factory. No less than 146 persons—merchants, officials, soldiers, and women—were driven into this confined space, and locked in for the night. They were tightly wedged together, had no air save from two narrow barred windows, and could not move. In the stifling heat of a Bengal June, nearly the whole of them perished of suffocation. Only twenty-three—one of whom was a woman—were found alive next morning. The horrors of the Black Hole were soon to be revenged, but long ere the news of the punishment which Clive wreaked on the nawab came home, the Newcastle ministry had been driven from office.

The popular outcry at the mismanagement of the war, and above all at the loss of Minorca, had been too great for the feeble Newcastle to withstand. It was in vain that he arrested Byng and promised to try him for cowardice. For Byng could not be made the scapegoat for disasters in America or India, and the universal indignation against Newcastle's administration of the war forced him to resign in November, 1756. Shortly after the admiral was tried by court-martial, condemned, and shot, for disobedience to orders and for criminal feebleness, though he was acquitted of any treasonable intent or personal cowardice. His death served, as Voltaire remarked at the time, "pour encourager les autres," and English admirals since then have never shirked an engagement with an enemy of only slightly superior force.

The king summoned the opposition Whigs to form a cabinet, and William Pitt and the Duke of Devonshire took office. Pitt, as we have already had occasion to remark, was the fighting man of the Whig party, and the advocate of a vigorous colonial and commercial policy. He was the one statesman of the day who commanded the confidence of the nation, because he was the only one whose reputation was entirely free from the stain of political corruption. He was an able, eloquent man, whose scathing denunciations of the errors and feebleness of the late ministry were convincing to all who heard them. It remained to be seen if his own administration would prove more successful. At first, however, it seemed likely that Pitt would have small opportunity of trying his hand at the helm. Though he was trusted by the nation, he was not trusted by the House of Commons. Newcastle set himself to overthrow his successor, by bidding his hirelings in the Lower House to vote consistently against the new ministers. Moreover, King George disliked Pitt for his vehemence and his pompous language.

Hence came a vexatious crisis in April, 1757, when Pitt found himself in a minority in the House of Commons, and was dismissed from office by the king. But the public outcry against the proposed resumption of office by Newcastle was so loud, that a curious and not very satisfactory compromise was arranged. The duke offered to take Pitt as his colleague, and to give him a free hand in the management of the war and all foreign policy, if he himself were permitted to retain the direction of domestic affairs. Pitt believed himself to be necessary to his country; he thought that he could bring the war to a successful conclusion, and that no one else could do so. Hence, though he was thoroughly acquainted with the mean and intriguing spirit of the duke, he took his offer. Newcastle wanted no more than the power of managing Parliament and dispensing patronage—his ideas of government went no further. In return he placed his subservient parliamentary majority at Pitt's disposal. The result was, as a shrewd contemporary observer remarked, that "Mr. Pitt does everything, and the Duke of Newcastle gives everything."

The Pitt-Newcastle ministry lasted nearly six years, and its excellent results almost justified the ignominious compact on which it was founded. Soon after Pitt got the control of affairs, the fortune of war began to mend. His first attempts at launching expeditions against France were, it is true, unsuccessful. The Duke of Cumberland was sent to Hanover to defend the electorate against the French. But he suffered the same misfortune as at Fontenoy and Lawfeldt, once more showing himself a brave soldier, but a bad strategist. At Hastenbeck he was defeated, and, retiring northward, was pressed back against the North Sea near Stade, and forced to sign the Convention of Closter-Seven, by which the Hanoverian army laid down its arms (June, 1757).

This disaster exposed the western frontier of Prussia to the French, and might have proved the ruin of King Frederic. But that marvellous general saved himself by the rapid blows which he dealt to West and East. Flying into central Germany, he routed the French at Rossbach (November 5); and then, returning to Silesia before the Austrians had missed him, he defeated the troops of the Empress at Leuthen (December 5). Thus he won himself six months' respite, and during that time Pitt raised another army for service in Germany, which was placed under Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, a distant cousin of the royal family, but a general of very different order from the unlucky George of Cumberland. This force effectually protected the western borders of Prussia and the electorate of Hanover from the French during the remainder of the war.

With the opening of the year 1758 began a succession of victories all over the world, which effectually justified the claims of Pitt to be the restorer of the greatness of Britain. He had everywhere put new vigour into the struggle, by placing young generals, chosen by himself, at the head of his expeditions, and by raising loans for war expenses with a profusion which appalled more timid financiers. Part of this wealth was lavished on the King of Prussia, whose aid was invaluable in distracting the forces of France. "I am conquering Canada on the plains of Germany," observed Pitt to those who reproached him for the vast subsidies which he sent to Frederic. And the epigram was true, for the reinforcements which were absolutely necessary if France was to retain her American possessions, were being sent across the Rhine to join in the great European struggle. Pitt, in fact, was working out to a glorious end the policy which Carteret had sketched nearly twenty years before.

While Ferdinand of Brunswick with his Anglo-Hanoverian army beat the French at Crefeldt, and kept them back on the Rhine (June, 1758), still more important things were being effected in America. A general advance was made along the whole front of the French possessions in America. In the north Admiral Boscawen and the young General Wolfe captured Louisbourg, the strongly fortified capital of the island of Cape Breton. In the south Fort Duquesne was occupied by a force consisting mainly of colonial militia, and thus the line of French communications between Canada and Louisiana was effectually cut. The jubilant colonists changed the name of the place to Pittsburg in honour of the great minister. Only in the centre of the advance was a reverse sustained; there the French commander, the gallant Montcalm, had collected the bulk of his forces behind the ramparts of Ticonderoga, to bar the line of advance up the Hudson. General Abercrombie was repulsed with fearful loss when he attempted to take the place by assault, though his men did all that could be done, and Pitt's new Highland regiments absolutely filled the ditch with their bodies ere they could be forced to retire. But the fall of Canada was only delayed a few months by this check to the British arms.

The next year, 1759, was even more fertile in successes. The naval strength of France received its final blow in two decisive battles. The French Mediterranean fleet ran out of Toulon and tried to escape into the Atlantic, but Admiral Boscawen met them off Lagos in Portugal, and took or destroyed most of the vessels. Some months later Admiral Hawke attacked the French Atlantic fleet, which had come out of Brest and was lying in Quiberon Bay. Though a fierce storm was raging, he ran into the bay and forced the enemy to engage. In the heat of the fight many of their ships were driven ashore and lost, while Hawke carried off two prizes, and only a few out of the hostile fleet escaped into the mouth of the river Vilaine. After the battles of Lagos and Quiberon Bay, the enemy never attempted to appear at sea in any force during the remaining four years of the war. Indeed, the French marine was almost entirely destroyed, for sixty-four line-of-battle ships had been sunk or taken in 1758-1759.

In the same year a great victory had been gained in Germany. When the French reinforced their army of the Rhine and again pushed forward toward Hanover, Prince Ferdinand gave them battle at Minden, and inflicted on them a defeat which sent them back in haste towards their own borders. The chief honour of the fight fell to seven regiments of English infantry, which received and repelled the fierce charges of the whole of the cavalry of the French army; but a slur was cast on the victory by the misconduct of Lord George Sackville, the general of the English horse, who refused—out of temper or cowardice—to charge the broken enemy and complete their rout. Nevertheless the fight did its work, and proved the salvation of our ally, Frederic II., who was just at this moment in the depths of despair. He had suffered a fearful defeat at the hands of the Russians at Künersdorf, on the Oder, and was only saved from complete destruction by being able to draw aid from the victorious army of Prince Ferdinand.

But events of far greater import had happened in America during this summer. Pitt had sketched out a concentric attack on Canada from three sides. General Amherst had taken Ticonderoga, the fort that had baffled Abercrombie in the previous year, while another expedition captured Fort Niagara and the other western strongholds of the French. But the main blow was struck in the North. An English fleet appeared in the St. Lawrence and put ashore General Wolfe, Pitt's favourite officer, with an army of 8000 men. Montcalm hurried to the spot with all the French regulars in the province, and a horde of Canadian militia, and hastened to the defence of Quebec, the capital of the land. The place was very strongly placed, being protected on two sides by the rivers St. Lawrence and St. Charles, and watched by Montcalm's entrenched camp at Beauport. After failing to break the French lines, Wolfe ventured on a hazardous flank attack. The cliffs overhanging the St. Lawrence were believed to be inaccessible, as there was only a single precipitous goat-track which mounted them, and this was protected by a guard. But Wolfe resolved to risk the danger of assaulting them. His men dropped down the river in boats under cover of the night, reached the foot of the crags, and crept up one after another on hands and knees, pulling themselves up by the aid of trees and shrubs. The French picket at the top was surprised and fled. Thus Wolfe had 4000 men in line on the ground above the cliffs, "the Heights of Abraham," before the day dawned. When they became visible to Montcalm, he was forced to come out of his impregnable lines and fight in the open, under pain of losing Quebec. There followed a short sharp conflict, in which the English had from the first the advantage. The Canadian militia fled in panic, the French regulars were cut to pieces, and Montcalm himself was mortally wounded. But Wolfe had also been struck down in the moment of victory; he lived just long enough to hear that the battle was won, and died on the field (September 13, 1759). He was only thirty-three, and, had he survived, would have had a long career of glory before him. But to have conquered America for England was in itself a sufficient title to immortality. For the battle of Quebec was the decisive day in the history of the continent.

The wrecks of the French army evacuated the capital, and fell back on Montreal. Thither they were followed in the next spring both by the forces under Amherst, which had ascended the Hudson, and by Wolfe's army from Quebec. Surrounded by vastly superior numbers, de Vaudreuil, the viceroy of Canada, was forced to lay down his arms, and surrender the remnant of the French possessions in the north. Thus ended in ignominious failure the great scheme which Montcalm had formed for securing inland America for his king, and penning the English colonists between the ocean and the Alleghanies. The British flag now waved without a rival from the North Pole to the boundary of Spanish America.

Meanwhile events of importance had been happening in the far East. While England was laying her hand on the Western Continent, she was also winning her first territorial dominions in India. We have already told the tale of the Black Hole and the fall of Calcutta. Its sequel has yet to be related. Just when the news of Suraj-ud-Dowlah's wicked doings reached Madras, Clive chanced to return from England, where he had been for two years on leave. The task of chastising the nawab was at once made over to him. He was entrusted with one regiment of British troops, the 39th, which bears on its colours the honourable legend Primus in Indis, and with 2000 Madras sepoys. With this small force he did not hesitate to invade the vast but unwarlike province of Bengal. He forced his way up the Hoogly and recovered Calcutta with ease. But he hesitated some time before advancing into the interior, to strike at the nawab's capital of Moorshedabad.

Soon, however, he learnt that Suraj-ud-Dowlah was hated by his subjects, and that his own ministers were ready to betray him. Armed with this knowledge, Clive advanced from Calcutta as far as the village of Plassey, where he found himself in face of the nawab's hordes, 50,000 irregular horse and foot of the worst quality. The English were attacked but feebly and half-heartedly, for the enemy had no confidence in their prince. Moreover, Mir Jaffar, who commanded one wing of his army, had sold himself to Clive for the promise of his master's throne, and held aloof all day, like Northumberland at Bosworth Field. At the hour of noon Clive bade his men charge, and the contemptible soldiery of Suraj-ud-Dowlah fled before the assault, though they outnumbered the English by eighteen to one. Only the nawab's French artillerymen stood firm, and were bayoneted at their guns. This battle, which gave England the rich realm of Bengal, was won with a loss of only 72 men to the victors. Clive soon seized Moorshedabad and installed Mir Jaffar as nawab in his master's room. The deposed tyrant was caught by his successor and promptly strangled. Mir Jaffar ruled for the future as the dependent of England, paid the East India Company a tribute, and acted as their vassal. Thus Bengal, though not annexed, was for all practical purposes made a part of the British empire.

Clive sullied his laurels by two acts which show the unscrupulous character that was allied with his great talents. Before Plassey, a Bengali named Omichund discovered the intrigue with Mir Jaffar, and threatened to reveal it to the nawab. Clive bought him off by a forged promise of money signed with the name of Admiral Watson. When the danger was over, he avowed his forgery to the traitor, who thereupon went mad with rage and disappointed greed. After Plassey Clive committed his second fault, by accepting for his private use huge sums of gold which Mir Jaffar offered him. When taunted with this, he only replied that "he was astonished at his own moderation, considering the enormously larger amount that he might have asked and received" (1757). After settling Bengal and defeating an attempt to reconquer it made by Shah Alum, the heir of the Great Moguls, Clive returned to England in 1759, to be saluted as the conqueror of the East.

While Clive was overrunning Bengal, the English armies in the Carnatic were making an end of the small remnants of the French power in India. The operations were protracted, till in January, 1760, Sir Eyre Coote routed the last French army at Wandewash, and, ere another year was out, Pondicherry and all the other strongholds of the enemy were in his hands.

While England was thus triumphant alike in Europe, India, and America, and Pitt was at the height of his glory, the old king, George II., died suddenly in his seventy-eighth year (October 25, 1760). His death made an instant change in the national politics both at home and abroad, for his successor was not one of those sovereigns who were contented to obey their ministers and meekly bear the yoke of the great Whig oligarchy.