on one day in August, an unfortunate lunatic, who had been enlisted by a sergeant and locked up in a brothel—the synonym for a recruiting-house—in London, hurled himself out of a window in the third story, into the street. Instantly a mob assembled, which delivered a succession of riotous attacks upon all houses of this description, and was only suppressed, after several days of disorder, by the calling out of the Guards and six regiments of cavalry.[1] Pitt defended the system on the ground that the Navy as well as the Army would be manned, by the turning over of soldiers to reinforce the marines; but this is only another instance of Pitt's callous ignorance and self-deception. The truth is that while doing nothing, and probably worse than nothing, for the Navy, it destroyed the efficiency of the Army for a time, and but for the timely interposition of a capable soldier would have destroyed it permanently. Who was responsible for the introduction of the system it is not easy to say, for there were so many disgraceful circumstances attending it that the whole subject was hushed up, and is now extremely obscure; but assuredly it was not Lord Amherst, nor is it credible that it can have been any soldier. It is safe to assert that it was the work of civilians; and if we seek among the civilians at the War Office for the two men of tried conceit, unwisdom, and incapacity, we can find them at once in Sir George Yonge and Henry Dundas.[2]*
- ↑ Ibid. 19th August 1794.
- ↑ Narrative of an Officer of the Guards, ii. 76-79; Bunbury, Great War with France, Introd. p. xx.; St. James's Chronicle, 27th January 1795 (debate on Army Estimates of 21st January); Journal of Sir Henry Calvert, pp. 360, 384-85. The letters of Lady Sarah Lennox (the mother of the Napiers) throw a curious light on the scramble for promotion through the enlistment of recruits at this period. "Think of my bad luck about recruits. If I had seen an officer
