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SELECTED SPEECHES ON BRITISH FOREIGN POLICY 1738-1914

EDITED BY EDGAR R. JONES, M.P.

This volume of 'Selected Speeches on British Foreign Policy' was first published in 'The World's Classics' in 1914

PREFACE

A selection of speeches made for the purpose of illustrating the best rhetorical form of British Oratory has already been published in 'The World's Classics'. The governing principle of this volume is not rhetorical quality, but historical interest. Speeches have been selected from the earliest days of reporting downwards, dealing with such phases of foreign policy as are of exceptional interest at present. They have been chosen so as to cover a variety of international crises affecting various states.

In such a selection some very interesting speeches have had to be set aside, because they represented temporary or individual and sectional views rather than permanent national and official views, and in order to avoid disproportionate reference to the same situation or country.

It is to be hoped that the selection, such as it is, may, through the words of the statesmen of the past, help to prepare our minds for the sound and worthy consideration of the problems of European re-settlement which will arise at the termination of the War.

EDGAR R. JONES.

CONTENTS

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM (1708-78)
The Convention with Spain (House of Lords,
March 8, 1738)
The Defence of Weaker States (House of Lords,
January 22, 1770)

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN (1751-1816)
The Partition of Poland (House of Commons,
April 25, 1793)
The Prussian Subsidy (House of Commons,
February 5, 1795)
Grant to the Emperor of Germany (House of Commons,
February 17, 1800)

WILLIAM PITT (1769-1806)
Overtures of Peace with France (House of Commons,
February 3, 1800)

GEORGE CANNING (1770-1827)
Negotiations Relative to Spain (House of Commons,
April 30, 1823)

SIR ROBERT PEEL (1788-1850)
Portugal—Don Miguel (House of Commons,
June 1, 1828)
Belgium (House of Commons, July 16, 1832)
Russian Dutch Loan (House of Commons,
July 20, 1832)

LORD JOHN RUSSELL, afterwards EARL RUSSELL (1792-1878)
The Annexation of Cracow (House of Commons,
March 4, 1847)

VISCOUNT PALMERSTON (1784-1865)
The Polish Question (House of Commons,
March 1, 1848)

HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM (1778-1868)
Italian Affairs (House of Lords, July 20, 1849)

EARL RUSSELL, previously LORD JOHN RUSSELL (1792-1878)
Denmark and Germany (House of Lords,
June 27, 1864)

LORD STANLEY, afterwards EARL OF DERBY (1826-93)
Austria and Prussia (House of Commons,
July 20, 1866)

JOHN BRIGHT (1811-89)
Principles of Foreign Policy (Birmingham,
October 29, 1858)

WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE (1809-98)
The Neutrality of Belgium (House of Commons,
August 8 and 10, 1870)
[By kind permission of Mr. H.N. Gladstone and
Messrs. Wyman & Sons, Ltd.]
Right Principles of Foreign Policy (West Calder,
Midlothian, November 27, 1879)
The Aggrandizement of Russia (West Calder,
Midlothian, April 2, 1880)
[By kind permission of Mr. H.N. Gladstone.]

BENJAMIN DISRAELI (1804-81)
Denmark and Germany (House of Commons,
July 4, 1864)

BENJAMIN DISRAELI, EARL OF BEACONSFIELD (1804-81)
Treaty of Berlin (House of Lords, July 18, 1878)
[By kind permission of Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co.]

SIR EDWARD GREY (1862- )
Negotiations (House of Commons, August 3, 1914)
[By kind permission of Sir Edward Grey and Messrs.
Wyman & Sons, Ltd.]

HERBERT HENRY ASQUITH (1852- )
Infamous Proposals (House of Commons,
August 6, 1914)
[By kind permission of Mr. Asquith and Messrs.
Wyman & Sons, Ltd.]

DAVID LLOYD GEORGE (1863- )
International Honour (Queen's Hall, London,
September 19, 1914)
[By kind permission of Mr. Lloyd George and Messrs.
Methuen & Co., Ltd.]

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM

MARCH 8, 1738

THE CONVENTION WITH SPAIN

You have been moved to vote an humble address of thanks to His Majesty, for a measure which (I will appeal to gentlemen's conversation in the world) is odious throughout the kingdom. Such thanks are only due to the fatal influence that framed it, as are due for that low, unallied condition abroad, which is now made a plea for this convention. To what are gentlemen reduced in support of it? First, try a little to defend it upon its own merits; if that is not tenable, throw out general terrors—the House of Bourbon is united—who knows the consequence of a war? Sir, Spain knows the consequence of a war in America; whoever gains, it must prove fatal to her; she knows it, and must therefore avoid it; but she knows England does not dare to make it; and what is a delay, which is all this magnified convention is sometimes called, to produce? Can it produce such conjunctures as those you lost, while you were giving kingdoms to Spain, and all to bring her back again to that great branch of the House of Bourbon which is now thrown out to you with so much terror? If this union be formidable, are we to delay only till it becomes more formidable, by being carried farther into execution, and more strongly cemented? But be it what it will, is this any longer a nation, or what is an English Parliament, if, with more ships in your harbours than in all the navies of Europe, with above two millions of people in your American colonies, you will bear to hear of the expediency of receiving from Spain an insecure, unsatisfactory, dishonourable convention? Sir, I call it no more than it has been proved in this debate; it carries fallacy, or downright subjection, in almost every line. It has been laid open and exposed in so many strong and glaring lights, that I can pretend to add nothing to the conviction and indignation it has raised.

Sir, as to the great national objection—the searching your ships—that favourite word, as it was called, is not omitted, indeed, in the preamble to the convention, but it stands there as the reproach, of the whole—as the strongest evidence of the fatal submission that follows. On the part of Spain, an usurpation, an inhuman tyranny, claimed and exercised over the American seas; on the part of England, an undoubted right, by treaties, and from God and nature, declared and asserted in the resolutions of Parliament, are referred to the discussion of plenipotentiaries, upon one and the same equal foot. Sir, I say this undoubted right is to be discussed and to be regulated. And if to regulate be to prescribe rules (as in all construction it is), this right is, by the express words of this convention, to be given up and sacrificed; for it must cease to be anything from the moment it is submitted to limits.

The Court of Spain has plainly told you (as appears by papers upon the table) you shall steer a due course; you shall navigate by a line to and from your plantations in America; if you draw near to her coasts (though from the circumstances of that navigation you are under an unavoidable necessity of doing it) you shall be seized and confiscated. If, then, upon these terms only she has consented to refer, what becomes at once of all the security we are flattered with in consequence of this reference? Plenipotentiaries are to regulate finally the respective pretensions of the two crowns with regard to trade and navigation in America; but does a man in Spain reason that these pretensions must be regulated to the satisfaction and honour of England? No, Sir, they conclude, and with reason, from the high spirit of their administration, from the superiority with which they have so long treated you, that this reference must end, as it has begun, to their honour and advantage.

But gentlemen say, the treaties subsisting are to be the measure of this regulation. Sir, as to treaties, I will take part of the words of Sir William Temple, quoted by the honourable gentleman near me; 'It is vain to negotiate and make treaties, if there is not dignity and vigour to enforce the observance of them'; for under the misconstruction and misrepresentation of these very treaties subsisting, this intolerable grievance has arisen; it has been growing upon you, treaty after treaty, through twenty years of negotiation, and even under the discussion of commissaries, to whom it was referred. You have heard from Captain Vaughan, at your bar,[1] at what time these injuries and indignities were continued. As a kind of explanatory comment upon the convention Spain has thought fit to grant you, as another insolent protest, under the validity and force of which she has suffered this convention to be proceeded upon, 'We'll treat with you, but we'll search and take your ships; we'll sign a convention, but we'll keep your subjects prisoners, prisoners in Old Spain; the West Indies are remote; Europe shall be witness how we use you.'

Sir, as to the inference of an admission of our right not to be searched, drawn from a reparation made for ships unduly seized and confiscated, I think that argument is very inconclusive. The right claimed by Spain to search our ships is one thing, and the excesses admitted to have been committed in consequence of this pretended right, is another; but surely, Sir, reasoning from inferences and implication only, is below the dignity of your proceedings, upon a right of this vast importance. What this reparation is, what sort of composition for your losses, forced upon you by Spain, in an instance that has come to light, where your own commissaries could not in conscience decide against your claim, has fully appeared upon examination; and, as for the payment of the sum stipulated (all but seven and twenty thousand pounds, and that, too, subject to a drawback), it is evidently a fallacious nominal payment only. I will not attempt to enter into the detail of a dark, confused, and scarcely intelligible account; I will only beg leave to conclude with one word upon it, in the light of a submission, as well as of an adequate reparation. Spain stipulates to pay to the Crown of England ninety-five thousand pounds; by a preliminary protest of the King of Spain, the South Sea Company is at once to pay sixty-eight thousand of it: if they refuse, Spain, I admit, is still to pay the ninety-five thousand pounds—but how does it stand then? The Assiento contract is to be suspended; you are to purchase this sum at the price of an exclusive trade, pursuant to a national treaty, and of an immense debt of God knows how many hundred thousand pounds due from Spain to the South Sea Company. Here, Sir, is the submission of Spain, by the payment of a stipulated sum; a tax laid upon subjects of England, under the severest penalties, with the reciprocal accord of an English minister, as a preliminary that the convention may be signed; a condition imposed by Spain in the most absolute, imperious manner, and received by the Ministers of England in the most tame and abject. Can any verbal distinctions, any evasions whatever, possibly explain away this public infamy? To whom would we disguise it? To ourselves and to the nation. I wish we could hide it from the eyes of every court in Europe. They see Spain has talked to you like your master; they see this arbitrary fundamental condition, and it must stand with distinction, with a pre-eminence of shame, as a part even of this convention.

This convention, Sir, I think from my soul, is nothing but a stipulation for national ignominy; an illusory expedient, to baffle the resentment of the nation; a truce without the suspension of hostilities on the part of Spain; on the part of England a suspension, as to Georgia, of the first law of nature, self-preservation and self-defence—surrender of the rights and trade of England to the mercy of plenipotentiaries, and in this infinitely highest and sacred point, future security, not only inadequate, but directly repugnant to the resolutions of Parliament, and the gracious promise from the Throne. The complaints of your despairing merchants, the voice of England, has condemned it. Be the guilt of it upon the head of the adviser. God forbid that this committee should share the guilt by approving it!

[Footnote 1: The House of Commons, in a grand committee, in 1737, had heard counsel for the merchants, and received evidence at the bar, on the subject of the Spanish depredations.]

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM JANUARY 22, 1770 THE DEFENCE OF WEAKER STATES

My Lords, I cannot agree with the noble duke, that nothing less than an immediate attack upon the honour or interest of this nation can authorize us to interpose in defence of weaker states, and in stopping the enterprises of an ambitious neighbour. Whenever that narrow, selfish policy has prevailed in our councils, we have constantly experienced the fatal effects of it. By suffering our natural enemies to oppress the Powers less able than we are to make a resistance, we have permitted them to increase their strength; we have lost the most favourable opportunities of opposing them with success; and found ourselves at last obliged to run every hazard, in making that cause our own, in which we were not wise enough to take part while the expense and danger might have been supported by others. With respect to Corsica I shall only say, that France has obtained a more useful and important acquisition in one pacific campaign, than in any of her belligerent campaigns;[1] at least while I had the honour of administering the war against her. The word may, perhaps, be thought singular: I mean only while I was the minister chiefly entrusted with the conduct of the war. I remember, my Lords, the time when Lorraine was united to the Crown of France;[2] that too was, in some measure, a pacific conquest; and there were, people who talked of it as the noble duke[3] now speaks of Corsica, France was permitted to take and keep possession of a noble province; and, according to his Grace's ideas, we did right in not opposing it. The effect of these acquisitions is, I confess, not immediate; but they unite with the main body by degrees, and, in time, make a part of the national strength. I fear, my Lords, it is too much the temper of this country to be insensible of the approach of danger, until it comes with accumulated terror upon us.

My Lords, the condition of His Majesty's affairs in Ireland, and the state of that kingdom within itself, will undoubtedly make a very material part of your Lordships' inquiry. I am not sufficiently informed to enter into the subject so fully as I could wish; but by what appears to the public, and from my own observation, I confess I cannot give the Ministry much credit for the spirit or prudence of their conduct. I see that, even where their measures are well chosen, they are incapable of carrying them through without some unhappy mixture of weakness or imprudence. They are incapable of doing entirely right. My Lords, I do, from my conscience, and from the best weighed principles of my understanding, applaud the augmentation of the army. As a military plan, I believe it has been judiciously arranged. In a political view, I am convinced it was for the welfare, for the safety, of the whole empire. But, my Lords, with all these advantages, with all these recommendations, if I had the honour of advising His Majesty, I would never have consented to his accepting the augmentation with that absurd, dishonourable condition which the Ministry have submitted to annex to it.[4] My Lords, I revere the just prerogative of the Crown, and would contend for it as warmly as for the rights of the people. They are linked together, and naturally support each other. I would not touch a feather of the prerogative. The expression, perhaps, is too light; but, since I have made use of it, let me add, that the entire command and power of directing the local disposition of the army is the royal prerogative, as the master-feather in the eagle's wing; and if I were permitted to carry the allusion a little farther, I would say, they have disarmed the imperial bird, the 'Ministrum fulminis alitem'. The army is the thunder of the Crown. The Ministry have tied up the hand which should direct the bolt.

My Lords, I remember that Minorca was lost for want of four battalions. They could not be spared from hence; and there was a delicacy about taking them from Ireland. I was one of those who promoted an inquiry into that matter in the other House; and I was convinced that we had not regular troops sufficient for the necessary service of the nation. Since the moment the plan of augmentation was first talked of, I have constantly and warmly supported it among my friends: I have recommended it to several members of the Irish House of Commons, and exhorted them to support it with their utmost interest in Parliament. I did not foresee, nor could I conceive it possible, the Ministry would accept of it, with a condition that makes the plan itself ineffectual, and, as far as it operates, defeats every useful purpose of maintaining a standing military force. His Majesty is now so confined, by his promise, that he must leave twelve thousand men locked up in Ireland, let the situation of his affairs abroad, or the approach of danger to this country, be ever so alarming, unless there be an actual rebellion, or invasion, in Great Britain. Even in the two cases excepted by the King's promise, the mischief must have already begun to operate, must have already taken effect, before His Majesty can be authorized to send for the assistance of his Irish army. He has not left himself the power of taking any preventive measures, let his intelligence be ever so certain, let his apprehensions of invasion or rebellion be ever so well founded; unless the traitor be actually in arms—unless the enemy be in the heart of your country, he cannot move a single man from Ireland.

[Footnote 1: Louis XV, in consequence, as was pretended, of the Jesuits being allowed to take refuge in Corsica in 1767, purchased the island from the Genoese, and after two years' contest, succeeded in subduing it. The French minister, Choiseul, induced the British Government to render no opposition.]

[Footnote 2: In the year 1735, by an arrangement between the Emperor of Austria and the French.]

[Footnote 3: The Duke of Grafton.]

[Footnote 4: King George III had, by a message through the Lord-Lieutenant, recommended the Irish House of Commons to augment the Irish army, and assured them expressly that on the augmentation being made, not less than 12,000 men should at all times, 'except in cases of invasion or rebellion in Great Britain,' be stationed in Ireland.]

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

APRIL 25, 1793 THE PARTITION OF POLAND

The people of England ought to know what were the views of the Minister upon this war, and to what extent it was to be carried, that they might not be proceeding under a delusion. Supposing we had gained our original purpose, he wanted to know how peace was to be obtained, without negotiation with those who have the exercise of government. If we countenanced the memorial of Lord Auckland, we should say, that the whole National Convention—all the members of the districts—in short, about eight or nine millions of people, must be put to death, before we can negotiate for peace. Supposing that we were to join the conspiracy to dictate a form of government to France, he then should wish to know what sort of government it was that we were to insist on. Were we to take the form of it from that exercised by the Emperor, or that of the King of Prussia? or was it to be formed by the lady who so mildly conducted the affairs of Russia? or were they all to lay their heads together, and by the assistance of the Pope, dictate a form of government to France? Were the French to have a constitution, such as the right honourable gentleman (Mr. Burke) was likely to applaud? Indeed, he feared that this was not yet settled; and there were various specimens of what had been already thought of by different Powers. There were two manifestoes of the Prince of Coburg; the one promised the form of government chosen by themselves, in which they agreed to have a monarchy, and afterwards, in the course of four days, this promise was retracted in consequence of the accession of Dumourier to the confederacy. What would the right honourable gentleman (Mr. Burke) say if they should not give the French the form of the constitution of Poland, or would he content himself with saying, they ought not to have such a constitution? He believed that neither the Chancellor of the Exchequer, nor any of his supporters, would say anything at present upon that subject. It appeared, however, somewhat mysterious, perhaps, that after the Congress at Antwerp, in which Great Britain was not unrepresented, that the intention of the combined Powers had altered, and that a much more sanguinary mode was to be pursued against France than had been before intended; and perhaps the time might come when the parties might follow the example set by the manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick, and affirm that these were threats which were not intended to be carried into execution. But this was not the way to amuse us. The people of England would not long be content to remain in the dark as to the object of the war. Again he must ask, what was the object of the war? Again he must ask, what was the object of our pursuit in conjunction with the other Powers against France? Was it to restore the ancient tyranny and despotism of that nation? This would please some people, he knew, particularly emigrants; but nothing would be so hateful to the people of this country, or any other where there existed the least love of freedom, nor could anything be more destructive to the tranquillity and happiness of Europe. Were we to join Dumourier in a declaration not to rest until we had put to death those detestable regicides, calling themselves philosophers, and all the miscreants who had destroyed all lawful authority in France? If we were, he would venture to say, this would be a war for a purpose entirely new in the history of mankind; and as it was called a war of vengeance, he must say, that we arrogated to ourselves a right which belonged to the Divinity, to whom alone vengeance ought to be left. If the Minister said that on our part there was no intention to interfere in the internal government of France, he must then ask what were the views of the other Powers, with whom we now acted in concert against France. Was it to make a partition of France, as they did of Poland? Or should he be told, that as far as regarded the affairs of France under the present Power, he was talking of none who ought to be mentioned as a people; that the sans culottes were too contemptible a race to be mentioned; he would say, he meant to ask what was to become of the whole nation of France? If he was told that it was impossible for the crowned heads, acting in concert upon this great occasion, to have any but just and honourable views, he would answer that the subject was of too much magnitude to be allowed to pass in such a manner; and in his suspicions he was justified by the example, and fortified by the observation of an honourable gentleman (Mr. Jenkinson) with respect to the father of the present Emperor, that no man ought to take his word for one hour. No material alteration, he believed, had taken place in the views of that Court since the death of that prince, nor of others in the present confederacy. Were we to forget that the King of Prussia encouraged the Brabanters to revolt, and then left them to their fate? Were we to forget the recent conduct with respect to Poland? Were we to forget the taking of Dantzic and Thorn? Indeed he thought that those who every day told us, in pompous language, of the necessity there was for kings, and of the service they did to the cause of humanity, they should at least have spared the public the pain of thinking of these subjects, by not entering into the views of that unnatural confederacy. Indeed it was impossible for him to dismiss the consideration of Poland, without adverting to an eloquent passage in the work of a right honourable gentleman, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the late revolution there. Here Mr. Sheridan quoted the following passage of Mr. Burke's Appeal from the Old to the New Whigs:

The state of Poland was such, that there could scarcely exist two opinions, but that a reformation of its constitution, even at some expense of blood, might be seen without much disapprobation. No confusion could be feared in such an enterprise; because the establishment to be reformed was itself a state of confusion. A King without authority, nobles without union or subordination, a people without arts, industry, commerce, or liberty; no order within, no defence without; no effective public force, but a foreign force, which entered a naked country at will, and disposed of everything at pleasure. Here was a state of things which seemed to invite, and might, perhaps, justify bold enterprise and desperate experiment. But in what manner was this chaos brought into order? The means were as striking to the imagination, as satisfactory to the reason, and soothing to the moral sentiments. In contemplating that change, humanity has everything to rejoice and to glory in, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to suffer. So far as it has gone, it probably is the most pure and defecated public good which ever has been conferred on mankind. We have seen anarchy and servitude at once removed, a throne strengthened for the protection of the people, without trenching on their liberties, all foreign cabal banished, by changing the crown from elective to hereditary; and what was a matter of pleasing wonder, we have seen a reigning King, from an heroic love to his country, exerting himself with all the toil, the dexterity, the management, the intrigue, in favour of a family of strangers, with which ambitious men labour for the aggrandizement of their own. Ten millions of men in a way of being freed gradually, and therefore safely to themselves and the State, not from civil or political chains, which, bad as they are, only fetter the mind, but from substantial personal bondage. Inhabitants of cities, before without privileges, placed in the consideration which belongs to that improved and connecting situation of social life. One of the most proud, numerous, and fierce bodies of nobility and gentry ever known in the world, arranged only in the foremost rank of free and generous citizens. Not one man incurred loss, or suffered degradation. All, from the King to the day-labourer, were improved in their condition. Everything was kept in its place and order, but in that place and order everything was bettered. To add to this happy wonder (this unheard-of conjunction of wisdom and fortune) not one drop of blood was spilled; no treachery; no outrage; no system of slander more cruel than the sword; no studied insults on religion, morals, or manners; no spoil; no confiscation; no citizen beggared; none imprisoned; none exiled: the whole was effected with a policy, a discretion, an unanimity and secrecy, such as have never been before known on any occasion; but such wonderful conduct was reserved for this glorious conspiracy in favour of the true and genuine rights and interests of men. Happy people, if they know how to proceed as they have begun! Happy prince, worthy to begin with splendour, or to close with glory, a race of patriots and of kings: and to leave

A name, which ev'ry wind to heav'n would bear, Which men to speak, and angels joy to hear. To finish all. This great good, as in the instant it is, contains in it the seeds of all further improvement, and may be considered as in a regular progress, because founded on similar principles, towards the stable excellence of a British constitution.

Here was a matter for congratulation and for festive remembrance through ages. Here moralists and divines might indeed relax in their temperance, to exhilarate their humanity.

Such, Mr. Sheridan said, was the description which the right honourable gentleman gave to that revolution. Was it to be supposed that he would afterwards say, that this ought to have been trampled upon and destroyed, or should suffer such an event to happen, and never utter a word upon the subject? He did not think that monarchs of the present day had fulfilled the promises that some persons had made, and which had been expected from them, so that their names might be handed down to posterity as a glorious example of integrity and justice. With respect to the future views of the different Powers, they might best be conjectured by what had already happened. The Empress of Russia, upon the sincerity of whose motives, and integrity of whose actions, there could be no doubt, previous to the attack on Poland, among other things in her manifesto, said by her Minister:

From these considerations, Her Imperial Majesty, my most gracious mistress, as well to indemnify herself for her many losses, as for the future safety of her Empire and the Polish dominions, and for the cutting off at once, for ever, all future disturbances and frequent changes of government, has been pleased now to take under her sway, and to unite for ever to her Empire, the following tracts of land, with all their inhabitants.

This was the language for which the confederates were to justify perhaps the future taking under their sway, and uniting for ever to their Empire, part of the dominions of France. We had heard much of the abominable system of affiliation adopted by the French; but this was a Russian impartial affiliation, and no doubt the confederate Powers approved of it. In like manner will they affiliate all France, if they can. So will they England, when they have it in their power; and he was sorry to say, that if we joined in that infamous confederacy, and the people agreed to it, England would deserve to be so treated. The Empress then proceeded to state what she expected for the favour she had conferred:

Her Imperial Majesty expects from the gratitude of her new subjects, that they, being placed by her bounty on an equality with Russians, shall, in return, transfer their love of their former country to the new one, and live in future attached to so great and generous an Empress.

On an equality with Russians! This was a glorious equality,—liable to be sent to Siberia with other Russian slaves. For this mighty favour they were to transfer, as naturally might be expected, the whole love they had for their native country, to Russia, their new and happy land; for the same Minister of this equitable and generous Empress proceeded to say:

I, therefore, inform every person, from the highest to the lowest, that within one month, they must take the oath of allegiance before the witnesses whom I shall appoint; and if any gentlemen, or other ranks possessing real or immovable property, regardless of their own interest, should refuse to take the oath prescribed, three months are allowed for the sale of their immovables, and their free departure over the borders, after the expiration of which term, all their remaining property shall be confiscated to the Crown.

Really after such specimens, one would have supposed, but for the well-known character of the council of these confederate Powers, they were actuated under the influence of madness, or they would not thus think of insulting the feelings of human nature. But this was not enough: an oath, it seemed, must be taken, for:

The clergy, both high and low, as pastors of their flocks, are expected to set the example in taking the oath; and in the daily service in their churches, they must pray for Her Imperial Majesty, for her successor, Great Duke Paul Petrovitz, and for all the Imperial Family, according to the formula which shall be given them.

Here again there was evidence of a great and good mind, for this pious Empress was determined that perjury should be very general in her dominions, and that the example should be set by the clergy! Mr. Sheridan then proceeded to take notice of the great and good King of Prussia with respect to Dantzic, as specified in what he called his reason for taking possession of part of Poland with his military forces.

It would certainly militate against the first rules of a sound policy, as well as the duties incumbent on us for the preservation of tranquillity in our State, if in such a state of things in a neighbouring great kingdom, we remained inactive spectators, and should wait for the period when the faction feel themselves strong enough to appear in public; by which our own neighbouring provinces would be exposed to several dangers, by the consequences of the anarchy on our frontiers.

We have, therefore, in conjunction with Her Majesty the Empress of Russia, and with the assent of His Majesty the Roman Emperor, acknowledged that the safety of our States did require, to set to the Republic of Poland such boundaries which are more compatible with her interior strength and situation; and to facilitate her the means of procuring without prejudice of her liberty, a well-ordained and active form of government, of maintaining herself in the undisturbed enjoyment of the same, and preventing, by these means, the disturbances which have so often shaken her own tranquillity, and endangered the safety of her neighbours.

In order to attain this end, and to preserve the Republic of Poland from the dreadful consequences which must be the result of her internal division, and to rescue her from her utter ruin, but chiefly to withdraw her inhabitants from the horrors of the destructive doctrine which they are but too prone to follow, there is, according to our thorough persuasion, to which also Her Majesty the Empress of all the Russias accedes in the most perfect congruity with our intentions and principles, no other means, except to incorporate her frontier provinces into our States, and for this purpose immediately to take possession of the same, and to prevent, in time, all misfortunes which might arise from the continuance of the reciprocal disturbances.

Wherefore, we have resolved, with the assent of Her Russian Majesty, to take possession of the above-mentioned districts of Poland, and also of the cities of Dantzic and Thorn, to the end of incorporating them to our State.

We herewith publicly announce our firm and unshaken resolution, and expect that the Polish nation will very soon assemble in the Diet, and adopt the necessary measures, to the end of settling things in an amicable manner, and of obtaining the salutary result of securing to the republic of Poland an undisturbed peace, and preserving her inhabitants from the terrible consequences of anarchy. At the time we exhort the states and inhabitants of the districts and towns which we have taken possession of, as already mentioned, both in a gracious and serious manner, not to oppose our commanders and troops, ordered for that purpose, but rather tractably to submit to our government, and acknowledge us from this day forward, as their lawful King and Sovereign, to behave like loyal and obedient subjects, and to renounce all connexion with the Crown of Poland.

Now, after this, Mr. Sheridan said, he wished to know whether any robbery that had been committed by the most desperate of the French, or whether any of their acts, were more infamous than this? Of what consequence was it to any man, whether he was plundered by a man with a white feather in his hat, or by one with a nightcap on his head? If there could be any difference, the solemnity with which the thing was done was an aggravation of the insult. The poorer sort of the French could plead distress, and could also say that they had endured the hardships, the toils, and the perils of a winter campaign. But here was nothing but a naked robbery, without any part taken in the calamity which gave birth to it. He had alluded to these things merely for the purpose of giving the Minister an opportunity of disapproving of them: he hoped he should not hear the principle avowed. Crowned heads, he thought, were at present led by some fatal infatuation to degrade themselves and injure mankind. But some, it seems, regard any atrocity in monarchs as if it had lost its nature by not being committed by low and vulgar agents. A head with a crown, and a head with a nightcap, totally altered the moral quality of actions—robbery was no longer robbery—and death, inflicted by a hand wielding a pike, or swaying a sceptre, was branded as murder, or regarded as innocent. This was a fatal principle to mankind, and monstrous in the extreme. He had lamented early the change of political sentiments in this country which indisposed Englishmen to the cause of liberty. The worst part of the revolution in France is, that they have disgraced the cause they pretended to support. However, none, he was persuaded, would deny that it was highly expedient to know the extent of our alliance with Powers who had acted so recently in the manner he had represented, and to have the object of our pursuit in this war distinctly known. The Minister may perhaps in future come down to the House, and say he is sorry, but it has become highly necessary to interfere with the power of Britain farther, as the crowned ladies and gentlemen of Europe cannot agree about the partition of France, or that such a disposition is about to take place, that we shall be worse off than if we had let France remain as it was. Those who feared the attachment of men to French principles, argued wrong. From the effect of the experiment they would never be popular: nothing but crimes and misery swelled all the accounts from that country. If the peasant had been represented happy and contented, dancing in his vineyard, surrounded with a prosperous and innocent family, if such accounts had come, the tidings would have been gladly received. At present we hear of nothing but want and carnage—very unattracting indeed. More danger, he thought, arose from a blind attachment to power, which gains security from the many evils abounding in France. On the same principle that Prussia divided Poland, he contended, they might act here. They declared a prevalence of French principles existed in Poland: His Majesty's proclamation asserts the same here, and is therefore, in this sense, an invitation to come and take care of us. Could such despots love the free constitution of this country? On the contrary, he was persuaded that, upon the very same principle that Poland was divided, and Dantzic and Thorn subjugated, England itself might be made an object for the same fate as soon as it became convenient to the confederates to make the experiment. He would defy any man to show the principle upon which a difference could exist with regard to us and the other sacrificed countries, in the wishes and the desires of the combined Powers. But supposing this to be out of all question, and that this country had nothing to dread in that respect, and that all Europe had nothing to look to but the extermination of French principles, how would the present prospect of our success then appear? Could we entertain so vain a hope (indeed he was astonished to hear it even hinted) that the French, who had all the winter been lying in the snow at some periods, and wading up to their necks in water at others, in an enemy's country, fighting for their rights, will, in their own, submit to give them up in a mild season? The thought was too absurd, and the expectation too extravagant, to be harboured by a man possessed of a spark of rationality.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

FEBRUARY 5, 1795

THE PRUSSIAN SUBSIDY

Mr. Sheridan said, that upon a former occasion he and another honourable gentleman had endeavoured to get some information of the services performed by the King of Prussia during the last campaign, in consequence of his engagements with this country. Some returns had lately been laid on the table on that subject, but these contained no information. It appeared that the King of Prussia had received from this country the enormous sum of twelve hundred thousand pounds, without having rendered it even the smallest service. He thought it therefore necessary, previous to the discussion of the imperial loan, to come to some resolution with respect to this conduct on the part of His Prussian Majesty. It was certainly no argument against granting a loan to the Emperor, that the King of Prussia had violated his faith. But this circumstance ought certainly to enforce on the House the necessity of caution, and induce them to take some step in the present instance that might operate as a warning, with respect to future transactions of the same sort. His Majesty had stated in his message that he had received from the Emperor the strongest assurances of a disposition to make the greatest exertions, provided he should be assisted by a loan of four millions from this country. He understood, if he could rely upon the credit of public statements, that in another country the Parliament had been told of the absolute determination of His Majesty to guarantee this loan. This was a language which he considered as very unbecoming, when addressed to the representatives of the nation, and as highly improper in Ministers, who were of course responsible for whatever proceeded from the Throne. Before such a determination had been expressed, he should have wished to have had something also like a positive determination from His Imperial Majesty to make the exertions which were to be the conditions of the loan. He should more particularly have wished for such a declaration from the Imperial Court, which had, at all times, been proverbially distinguished by ill-faith. He recollected on this subject a strong expression of a right honourable gentleman (we suppose Mr. Windham), who said, that since the capture of Richard I, the conduct of the Court of Vienna had been marked by an uniform series of treachery towards this country. To guard against this treachery, he thought that nothing would be better than for the House of Commons to show themselves alive to their duty on the present occasion. There were some men who, though insensible to the calls of honour, were yet not callous to the sense of shame. Some men of that description might be found among the ministers of Austria. It might, therefore, be of importance, by way of warning to them, to come to some resolution, expressive of indignation and contempt, with respect to the violation of faith on the part of His Prussian Majesty. Mr. Sheridan here referred to that article of the treaty in which it was stipulated that sixty thousand Prussians should co-operate with the British troops, and that a commissioner should be appointed for the purpose of watching over the observance of this article. From the scraps of letters laid upon the table, it appeared that no commissioner had been appointed for this purpose. This, he contended, would not have been the case, except Ministers had been aware that the King of Prussia, from the very first, was indisposed to perform his duty. He referred also to the memorial of the Emperor, which stated that the effective co-operation of the Prussians might have been the means of saving Brabant, and, in consequence, of preserving Holland. Such were the effects stated by His Imperial Majesty to have resulted from the breach of faith in His Prussian Majesty. In his answer to this memorial, addressed to the circles of the Empire, that monarch shows a degree of apprehension, that he should have even been supposed to have had the smallest disposition to keep faith towards this country after he had once received its money. He should therefore conclude with moving this resolution—'That it appears to this House, that the King of Prussia received from the treasury of Great Britain the sum of £1,200,000 in consequence of the stipulations of the treaty concluded at the Hague, on the 10th of April, 1794; and that it does not appear to this House, that the King of Prussia performed the stipulation of that treaty.'

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

FEBRUARY 17, 1800

GRANT TO THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY[1]

The honourable gentleman [Mr. Wilberforce] who has just sat down, and said he rose only to save himself from misinterpretation, has declared that he has no objection to peace. Now I should expect a warmer declaration from that honourable gentleman, when I recollect his conduct on a former occasion. I recollect a time when he came to rebuke the violence of the Minister. [Mr. Sheridan read a motion, made by Mr. Wilberforce, for an address to His Majesty, praying that the Government of France might not be made an obstacle to peace, when an opportunity should arrive.] Now, as the honourable gentleman is anxious to escape from the charge of inconsistency, I should expect he would state the reason for this difference in his conduct now. Then the Government was a provisional government; a government from its nature not intended to stand; a government of furious Jacobins; and yet the honourable gentleman implored to supplicate His Majesty that it might not be suffered to stand in the way of peace; but now, when it is of a less objectionable description, he justifies his friend from an arrogant, violent, inconsiderate, and I hope he will not find an unfortunate note, refusing to accept peace from such a government. An honourable gentleman who has spoken in the debate put a very just question, whether the country will endure to be governed by words, and not by facts? I admit it right that it should not be so governed, but I unfortunately have the authority of the present Government that it is. The honourable gentleman spoke with great eloquence, I may say irritation; but never did I see eloquence so misapplied. He has shown his dexterity in driving the subject from its proper basis; he guides, urges, and inflames the passions of his hearers on Jacobinical principles, but he does not show how they bear on the present question. He has not dared to say, that so far as respects the restoration of the House of Bourbon, we have suffered by the defection of Russia. What that Power may still do with regard to La Vendée, or reconciling the people of Ireland to the Union, I do not inquire; but with regard to the great object, the restoration of monarchy in France, we are minus the Emperor of Russia: that Power may be considered as extinct. Is it, then, to be endured, that the Minister shall come down and ask for a subsidy under such circumstances? Is it to be endured, that we shall be told we are at war for the restoration of monarchy in France, that Russia is pledged to the accomplishment of that purpose, that Russia is the rock on which we stand, that the magnanimous Emperor of Russia, the gallantry of whose troops, and the skill of whose great generals, place them above all the troops and generals in Europe, is all we have to rest on? Is it to be endured, I say, that this rock should prove as brittle as sand, and that those who held this language should come down in a week after, and say, give us two millions and a half to subsidize Germany, and then we shall have a better army than we had with Russia? After such unqualified praise upon Russia, and after her defection, is not such language, I ask, inconsistent, absurd, and preposterous? If Germany possessed these wonderful forces before, why were they not called into action; and if not, why are we to subsidize the posse comitatus, the rabble of Germany? But who is the person that applies for this subsidy? As to the Elector of Bavaria, I leave him out of the question. It is the Emperor of Germany. Is there anything in his conduct and character to incline us to listen to him? I think not, and for these two reasons. First, he applied once on a false pretence, and secondly, he failed in performing his stipulated engagement. What was his false pretence? He said he could not open the campaign without the pecuniary assistance of this country; and yet he did do so, and displayed more vigour, energy, and resources than ever. Now, if to this we add experience, and the evidence of facts, when he dared, though bound to this country, to break faith with her, and make a separate peace, does it not furnish a reasonable cause for declining to grant a subsidy to such a Power? The honourable gentleman is offended at our connecting the situation of the country, and the present scarcity, with the question of war. I do not know to what extent this principle is to be carried. I see no more objection to state the pressure in this particular from the continuance of the war, than there would be to advance the increase of the public debt, the situation of the finances, or any other of those reasons so often repeated without its having been ever objected that they were of an improper kind. Sir, I say, there is no more impropriety in urging this argument, than in urging Ministers not to press the people too far, but to apportion the burden to their strength to bear it. What has my honourable friend said? We see an opulent commercial prosperity; but look over the country, and we behold barracks and broth-houses, the cause and the effect, the poverty and distress of the country; for surely it will not be contended, but that among the calamities of war are to be reckoned families left without support, and thrown upon charity for subsistence. That the war is unnecessary, as being useless, is self-evident, and nobody can deny it. But, say they, Buonaparte has taken us at an unguarded moment: we do not object to peace, but we have a fear and jealousy of concluding one, except with the House of Bourbon: in a peace concluded with it we should have confidence, but we can have none in the present Government of France. I say, were that event arrived, and the House of Bourbon seated on the throne, the Minister should be impeached who would disband a single soldier; and that it would be equally criminal to make peace under a new King as under a republican government, unless her heart and mind were friendly to it. France, as a republic, maybe a bad neighbour; but than monarchical France a more foul and treacherous neighbour never was. Is it, then, sufficient to say, let monarchy be restored, and let peace be given to all Europe? I come now, Sir, to the object of the war as expressed in the note. It is there stated, that the restoration of monarchy is the sine qua non of present negotiation; and then it proceeds to say, that it is possible we may hereafter treat with some other form of government, after it shall be tried by experience and the evidence of facts. What length of time this trial may require is impossible to ascertain; yet we have, I acknowledge, some thing of experience here by which we may form a kind of conjecture.

At the time of the negotiation at Lisle, the then republican Government had stood two years and a half. Previous to that time, it had been declared improper to enter into negotiation with it; but, from experience and the evidence of facts, Ministers discovered that it was then become good and proper to treat with; and yet so it happened that, immediately after this judgement in its favour, it crumbled to pieces. Here, then, we have a tolerable rule to judge by, and may presume, on the authority of this case, that something more than two years and a half must expire before any new government will be pronounced stable. The note, Sir, then proceeds to pay an handsome compliment to the line of princes who maintained peace at home, and to round the period handsomely, it should have added, tranquillity abroad; but instead of this are substituted respect and consideration, by which we are to understand exactly what is meant by the consideration with which the note is subscribed, being equivalent to 'I am, Sir, with the highest respect and sincerest enmity, yours', for, Sir, this consideration which the line of princes maintained, consisted in involving all the Powers within their reach and influence in war and contentions. The note then proceeds to state, that this restoration of monarchy would secure to France the uninterrupted possession of her ancient territory, by which we are to understand, I suppose, we would renounce our Quiberon expeditions. In this note, Sir, the gentlemen seem to have clubbed their talents, one found grammar, another logic, and a third some other ingredient; but is it not strange that they should all forget that the House of Bourbon, instead of maintaining peace and tranquillity in Europe, was always the disturber of both? In the very last transaction of monarchical France, I mean her conduct in the American war. His Majesty's speech begins thus: 'France, the disturber of the tranquillity of Europe.' But were a person to judge hereafter, from the history of the present time, of the war we carried on, and the millions we expended for the monarchy of France, he would be led to conclude that it was our nearest and dearest friend. Is there anything, then, in the knowledge of human nature, from which we can infer, that with the restoration of monarchy in France, a total change in the principles of the people would take place? or that Ministers of the new King would renounce them? What security have we, that a change of principles will take place in the restored monarch, and that he will not act upon the principles cherished by his ancestors? But if this security is effected by maiming France, does the right honourable gentleman think that the people of France would submit to it? Does he not know that even the emigrants have that partiality for the grandeur of their country, that even they cannot restrain their joy at republican victories? But with regard to the practicability of the course to be pursued, the right honourable gentleman says, he is looking forward to a time when there shall be no dread of Jacobin principles. I ask whether he does not think, from the fraud, oppression, tyranny, and cruelty with which the conduct of France has marked them, that they are not now nearly dead, extinct, and detested? But who are the Jacobins? Is there a man in this country who has at any time opposed Ministers, who has resisted the waste of public money and the prostitution of honours, that has not been branded with the name? The Whig Club are Jacobins. Of this there can be no doubt, for a right honourable gentleman [Mr. Windham] on that account struck his name off the list. The Friends of the People are Jacobins. I am one of the Friends of the People, and consequently am a Jacobin. The honourable gentleman pledged himself never to treat with Jacobin France until we had

Toto certatum est corpore regni.

Now he did treat with France at Lisle and Paris, but perhaps there were not Jacobins in France at either of these times. You, then, the Friends of the People, are the Jacobins. I do think, Sir, Jacobin principles never existed much in this country; and even admitting they had, I say they have been found so hostile to true liberty, that in proportion as we love it, and whatever may be said, I must still consider liberty an inestimable blessing, we must hate and detest these principles. But more, I do not think they even exist in France; they have there died the best of deaths, a death I am more pleased to see than if it had been effected by a foreign force; they have stung themselves to death, and died by their own poison. But the honourable gentleman, arguing from experience of human nature, tells us that Jacobin principles are such, that the mind that is once infected with them, no quarantine, no cure can cleanse. Now if this be the case, and that there are, according to Mr. Burke's statement, eighty thousand incorrigible Jacobins in England, we are in a melancholy situation. The right honourable gentleman must continue the war while one of the present generation remains, and consequently we cannot for that period expect those rights to be restored to us, to the suspension and restrictions of which the honourable gentleman attributes the suppression of these principles. A pretty consolation this, truly! Now I contend that they do not exist in France to the same extent as before, or nearly. If this, then, be the case, what danger can be apprehended? But if this, then, be true, and that Buonaparte, the child and champion of Jacobin principles, as he is called, be resolved to uphold them, upon what ground does the honourable gentleman presume to hope for the restoration of the House of Bourbon? So far I have argued on the probability of the object, but the honourable gentleman goes on, and says, there is no wish to restore the monarchy without the consent of the people. Now if this be the case, is it not better to leave the people to themselves, for if armies are to interfere, how can we ascertain that it is a legitimate government established with the pure consent of the people? As to Buonaparte, whose character has been represented as marked with fraud and insincerity, has he not made treaties with the Emperor and observed them? Is it not his interest to make peace with us? Do you not think he feels it? And can you suppose, that if peace were made, he has not power to make it be observed by the people of France? And do not you think that the people of France are aware that an infraction of that peace would bring with it a new order of things, and a renewal of those calamities from which they are now desirous to escape? But, Sir, on the character of Buonaparte I have better evidence than the intercepted letters, I appeal to Carnot, whether the instructions given with respect to the conduct to be observed to the Emperor, were not moderate, open, and magnanimous? [Here Mr. Sheridan read an extract from Carnot's pamphlet, in support of his assertion.] With regard to the late note, in answer to his proposal to negotiate, it is foolish, insulting, and undignified. It is evidence to me, that the honourable gentlemen themselves do not believe his character to be such as they describe it; for, if they did, they must know their language would irritate such a mind; the passions will mix themselves with reason in the conduct of men, and they cannot say that they will not yet be obliged to treat with Buonaparte. I am warranted in saying this, for I do not believe in my heart, that since the defection of Russia, Ministers have been repenting of their answer. I say so because I do not consider them so obstinate and headstrong as to persevere with as much ardour for the restoration of monarchy as when they were pledged with Russia. There was not a nation in Europe which Ministers did not endeavour to draw into the war. On what was such conduct founded, but on Jacobinical principles? Indeed Ministers, by negotiating at one time with a Jacobinical government in France, plainly proved they were not so hostile to its principles as they would now wish to appear. Prussia and Austria, as well as this country, have acted also on Jacobinical principles. The conduct of this country towards Ireland has been perfectly Jacobinical. How, then, can we define these principles, when persons who would now disavow them fall by some fatality into an unavoidable acknowledgement of them? The objections that have been raised to peace have been entirely Jacobinical. If we seek for peace, it must be done in the spirit of peace. We are not to make it a question who was the first aggressor, or endeavour to throw the blame that may attach to us on our enemy. Such circumstances should be consigned to oblivion, as tending to no one useful purpose. France, in the beginning of the Revolution, had conceived many romantic notions. She was to put an end to war, and produce, by a pure form of government, a perfectibility of mind which before had never been realized. The monarchs of Europe, seeing the prevalence of these new principles, trembled for their thrones. France, also, perceiving the hostility of kings to her projects, supposed she could not be a republic without the overthrow of thrones. Such has been the regular progress of cause and effect; but who was the first aggressor, with whom the jealousy first arose, need not now be a matter of discussion. Both the republic, and the monarchs who opposed her, acted on the same principles: the latter said they must exterminate Jacobins, and the former that they must destroy monarchs. From this source have all the calamities of Europe flowed; and it is now a waste of time and argument to inquire farther into the subject. Now, Sir, let us come to matter of fact. Has not France renounced and reprobated those Jacobin principles, which created her so many enemies? Are not all her violent invectives against regular governments come into disesteem? Has not the Abbé Sièyes, who wrote in favour of monarchy—has not Buonaparte—condemned the Jacobinical excesses of the Revolution in the most pointed manner, the very men who have had so large a share in the formation of the present Government? But I maintain that Buonaparte himself is also a friend to peace. There is in his correspondence with the Ministers of this country a total renunciation of Jacobinical principles. In the dread, therefore, of these, I can see no argument for the continuance of war. A man who is surprised at the revolution of sentiment in individuals or nations shows but little experience. Such instances occur every day. Neither would a wise man always attach to principles the most serious consequences. Left to themselves, the absurd and dangerous would soon disappear, and wisdom establish herself only the more secure on their ruins. I am a friend to peace at this time, because I think Buonaparte would be as good a friend and neighbour to this country as ever were any of the Bourbons. I think also that there can be no time when we can hope to have better terms. If the King of Prussia should join France, such an alliance would greatly change the state of things; and from her long and honourable neutrality, in spite of the remonstrance and entreaties of this country, an event of that kind is by no means unlikely to happen. It must be considered also that the First Consul of France must feel no little portion of resentment towards this country, arising from the indignity with which his overtures of negotiation have been treated. It is not improbable that, to satisfy his revenge, he would make large sacrifices to the House of Austria, that he might contend more successfully against this country. Such are my fears and opinions; but I am unhappily in the habit of being numbered with the minority, and therefore their consequences are considerably diminished. But there have been occasions when the sentiments of the minority of this House have been those of the people at large: one, for instance, when a war was prevented with Russia concerning Oczakow. The minority told the Minister that the sentiments of the country were contrary to those of the majority: and the fact justified them in the assertion; the dispute was abandoned. In the year 1797, the opinions of the minority on peace were those of the people, and I believe the same coincidence exists now upon the same subject.

[Footnote 1: Not the King of Prussia; but Francis II of
Austria.—Ed.]

WILLIAM PITT

FEBRUARY 3, 1800

OVERTURES OF PEACE WITH FRANCE

Sir, I am induced at this period of the debate to offer my sentiments to the House, both from an apprehension that, at a later hour, the attention of the House must necessarily be exhausted, and because the sentiment with which the learned gentleman[1] began his speech, and with which he has thought proper to conclude it, places the question precisely on that ground on which I am most desirous of discussing it. The learned gentleman seems to assume, as the foundation of his reasoning, and as the great argument for immediate treaty, that every effort to overturn the system of the French revolution must be unavailing; and that it would be not only imprudent, but almost impious, to struggle longer against that order of things, which, on I know not what principle of predestination, he appears to consider as immortal. Little as I am inclined to accede to this opinion, I am not sorry that the honourable gentleman has contemplated the subject in this serious view. I do, indeed, consider the French revolution as the severest trial which the visitation of Providence has ever yet inflicted upon the nations of the earth; but I cannot help reflecting, with satisfaction, that this country, even under such a trial, has not only been exempted from those calamities which have covered almost every other part of Europe, but appears to have been reserved as a refuge and asylum to those who fled from its persecution, as a barrier to oppose its progress, and, perhaps, ultimately as an instrument to deliver the world from the crimes and miseries which have attended it. Under this impression, I trust the House will forgive me if I endeavour, as far as I am able, to take a large and comprehensive view of this important question. In doing so, I agree with my honourable friend, that it would, in any case, be impossible to separate the present discussion from the former crimes and atrocities of the French revolution; because both the papers now on the table, and the whole of the learned gentleman's argument, force upon our consideration the origin of the war, and all the material facts which have occurred during its continuance. The learned gentleman has revived and retailed all those arguments from his own pamphlet, which had before passed through thirty-seven or thirty-eight editions in print; and now gives them to the House embellished by the graces of his personal delivery. The First Consul has also thought fit to revive and retail the chief arguments used by all the Opposition speakers, and all the Opposition publishers, in this country during the last seven years. And (what is still more material) the question itself, which is now immediately at issue—the question, whether, under the present circumstances, there is such a prospect of security from any treaty with France as ought to induce us to negotiate, cannot be properly decided upon without retracing, both from our own experience and from that of other nations, the nature, the causes, and the magnitude of the danger against which we have to guard, in order to judge of the security which we ought to accept.

I say, then, that before any man can concur in opinion with that learned gentleman—before any man can think that the substance of His Majesty's answer is any other than the safety of the country required; before any man can be of opinion, that to the overtures made by the enemy, at such a time, and under such circumstances, it would have been safe to have returned an answer concurring in the negotiation—he must come within one of the three following descriptions: he must either believe that the French revolution neither does now exhibit, nor has at any time exhibited, such circumstances of danger, arising out of the very nature of the system and the internal state and condition of France, as to leave to foreign Powers no adequate ground of security in negotiation; or, secondly, he must be of opinion, that the change which has recently taken place has given that security, which, in the former stages of the revolution, was wanting; or, thirdly, he must be one who, believing that the danger existed, not undervaluing its extent, nor mistaking its nature, nevertheless thinks, from his view of the present pressure on the country, from his view of its situation and its prospects, compared with the situation and prospects of its enemies, that we are, with our eyes open, bound to accept of inadequate security for everything that is valuable and sacred, rather than endure the pressure, or incur the risk, which would result from a farther prolongation of the contest.

In discussing the last of these questions, we shall be led to consider what inference is to be drawn from the circumstances and the result of our own negotiations in former periods of the war;—whether, in the comparative state of this country and France, we now see the same reason for repeating our then unsuccessful experiments;—or whether we have not thence derived the lessons of experience, added to the deductions of reason, marking the inefficacy and danger of the very measures which are quoted to us as precedents for our adoption. Unwilling, Sir, as I am to go into much detail on ground which has been so often trodden before, yet, when I find the learned gentleman, after all the information which he must have received, if he has read any of the answers to his work (however ignorant he might be when he wrote it), still giving the sanction of his authority to the supposition that the order to M. Chauvelin to depart from this kingdom was the cause of the war between this country and France, I do feel it necessary to say a few words on that part of the subject.

Inaccuracy in dates seems to be a sort of fatality common to all who have written on that side of the question; for even the writer of the note to His Majesty is not more correct, in this respect, than if he had taken his information only from the pamphlet of the learned gentleman. The House will recollect the first professions of the French Republic, which are enumerated, and enumerated truly, in that note—they are tests of everything which would best recommend a Government to the esteem and confidence of foreign Powers, and the reverse of everything which has been the system and practice of France now for near ten years. It is there stated, that their first principles were love of peace, aversion to conquest, and respect for the independence of other countries. In the same note, it seems, indeed, admitted, that they since have violated all those principles; but it is alleged that they have done so only in consequence of the provocation of other Powers. One of the first of those provocations is stated to have consisted in the various outrages offered to their Ministers, of which the example is said to have been set by the King of Great Britain in his conduct to M. Chauvelin. In answer to this supposition, it is only necessary to remark that, before the example was given, before Austria and Prussia are supposed to have been thus encouraged to combine in a plan for the partition of France, that plan, if it ever existed at all, had existed and been acted upon for above eight months: France and Prussia had been at war eight months before the dismissal of M. Chauvelin. So much for the accuracy of the statement.

[Mr. Erskine here observed that this was not the statement of his argument.]

I have been hitherto commenting on the arguments contained in the notes: I come now to those of the learned gentleman. I understand him to say that the dismissal of M. Chauvelin was the real cause, I do not say of the general war, but of the rupture between France and England; and the learned gentleman states, particularly, that this dismissal rendered all discussion of the points in dispute impossible. Now I desire to meet distinctly every part of this assertion: I maintain, on the contrary, that an opportunity was given for discussing every matter in dispute between France and Great Britain, as fully as if a regular and accredited French Minister had been resident here;—that the causes of war which existed at the beginning, or arose during the course of this discussion, were such as would have justified, twenty times over, a declaration of war on the part of this country;—that all the explanations on the part of France were evidently unsatisfactory and inadmissible; and that M. Chauvelin had given in a peremptory ultimatum, declaring that, if these explanations were not received as sufficient, and if we did not immediately disarm, our refusal would be considered as a declaration of war. After this followed that scene which no man can even now speak of without horror, or think of without indignation; that murder and regicide from which I was sorry to hear the learned gentleman date the beginning of the legal government of France. Having thus given in their ultimatum, they added, as a further demand (while we were smarting under accumulated injuries, for which all satisfaction was denied), that we should instantly receive M. Chauvelin as their ambassador, with new credentials, representing them in the character which they had just derived from the murder of their sovereign. We replied, 'He came here as a representative of a sovereign whom you have put to a cruel and illegal death; we have no satisfaction for the injuries we have received, no security from the danger with which we are threatened. Under these circumstances we will not receive your new credentials; the former credentials you have yourselves recalled by the sacrifice of your King.'

What from that moment was the situation of M. Chauvelin? He was reduced to the situation of a private individual, and was required to quit the kingdom, under the provisions of the Alien Act, which, for the purpose of securing domestic tranquillity, had recently invested His Majesty with the power of removing out of this kingdom all foreigners suspected of revolutionary principles. Is it contended that he was, then, less liable to the provisions of that Act than any other individual foreigner, whose conduct afforded to Government just ground of objection or suspicion? Did his conduct and connexions here afford no such ground? or will it be pretended that the bare act of refusing to receive fresh credentials from an infant republic, not then acknowledged by any one Power of Europe, and in the very act of heaping upon us injuries and insults, was of itself the cause of war? So far from it, that even the very nations of Europe, whose wisdom and moderation have been repeatedly extolled for maintaining neutrality, and preserving friendship, with the French Republic, remained for years subsequent to this period without receiving from it any accredited Minister, or doing any one act to acknowledge its political existence. In answer to a representation from the belligerent Powers, in December, 1793, Count Bernstorff, the Minister of Denmark, officially declared that 'It was well known that the National Convention had appointed M. Grouville Minister-Plenipotentiary at Denmark, but that it was also well known that he had neither been received nor acknowledged in that quality'. And as late as February, 1796, when the same Minister was at length, for the first time, received in his official capacity, Count Bernstorff, in a public note, assigned this reason for that change of conduct—'So long as no other than a revolutionary Government existed in France, His Majesty could not acknowledge the Minister of that Government; but now that the French Constitution is completely organized, and a regular Government established in France, His Majesty's obligation ceases in that respect, and M. Grouville will therefore be acknowledged in the usual form.' How far the Court of Denmark was justified in the opinion that a revolutionary Government then no longer existed in France, it is not now necessary to inquire; but whatever may have been the fact, in that respect, the principle on which they acted is clear and intelligible, and is a decisive instance in favour of the proposition which I have maintained.

Is it then necessary to examine what were the terms of that ultimatum, with which we refused to comply? Acts of hostility had been openly threatened against our allies, an hostility founded upon the assumption of a right which would at once supersede the whole law of nations: a demand was made by France upon Holland to open the navigation of the Scheldt, on the ground of a general and national right, in violation of positive treaty; this claim we discussed, at the time, not so much on account of its immediate importance (though it was important both in a maritime and commercial view), as on account of the general principle on which it was founded. On the same arbitrary notion they soon afterwards discovered that sacred law of nature, which made the Rhine and the Alps the legitimate boundaries of France, and assumed the power which they have affected to exercise through the whole of the revolution, of superseding, by a new code of their own, all the recognized principles of the law of nations. They were actually advancing towards the republic of Holland, by rapid strides, after the victory of Jemappe, and they had ordered their generals to pursue the Austrian troops into any neutral country: thereby explicitly avowing an intention of invading Holland. They had already shown their moderation and self-denial, by incorporating Belgium, with the French Republic. These lovers of peace, who set out with a sworn aversion to conquest, and professions of respect for the independence of other nations; who pretend that they departed from this system only in consequence of your aggression, themselves in time of peace while you were still confessedly neutral, without the pretence or shadow of provocation, wrested Savoy from the King of Sardinia, and had proceeded to incorporate it likewise with France. These were their aggressions at this period; and more than these. They had issued an universal declaration of war against all the thrones of Europe; and they had, by their conduct, applied it particularly and specifically to you: they had passed the decree of November 19, 1792, proclaiming the promise of French succour to all nations who should manifest a wish to become free: they had, by all their language, as well as their example, shown what they understood to be freedom: they had sealed their principles by the deposition of their sovereign: they had applied them to England, by inviting and encouraging the addresses of those seditious and traitorous societies who, from the beginning, favoured their views, and who, encouraged by your forbearance, were even then publicly avowing French doctrines, and anticipating their success in this country; who were hailing the progress of those proceedings in France which led to the murder of its king: they were even then looking to the day when they should behold a national convention in England, formed upon similar principles.

And what were the explanations they offered on these different grounds of offence? As to Holland, they contented themselves with telling us that the Scheldt was too insignificant for us to trouble ourselves about, and therefore it was to be decided as they chose, in breach of a positive treaty, which they had themselves guaranteed, and which we, by our alliance, were bound to support. If, however, after the war was over, Belgium should have consolidated its liberty (a term of which we now know the meaning, from the fate of every nation into which the arms of France have penetrated), then Belgium and Holland might, if they pleased, settle the question of the Scheldt by separate negotiation between themselves. With respect to aggrandizement, they assured us that they would retain possession of Belgium by arms no longer than they should find it necessary for the purpose already stated, of consolidating its liberty. And with respect to the decree of November 19, applied as it was pointedly to you, by all the intercourse I have stated with all the seditious and traitorous part of this country, and particularly by the speeches of every leading man among them, they contented themselves with asserting that the declaration conveyed no such meaning as was imputed to it, and that, so far from encouraging sedition, it could apply only to countries where a great majority of the people should have already declared itself in favour of a revolution—a supposition which, as they asserted, necessarily implied a total absence of all sedition.

What would have been the effect of admitting this explanation?—to suffer a nation, and an armed nation, to preach to the inhabitants of all the countries in the world, that themselves were slaves, and their rulers tyrants: to encourage and invite them to revolution, by a previous promise of French support, to whatever might call itself a majority, or to whatever France might declare to be so. This was their explanation: and this, they told you, was their ultimatum. But was this all? Even at that very moment, when they were endeavouring to induce you to admit these explanations, to be contented with the avowal that France offered herself as a general guarantee for every successful revolution, and would interfere only to sanction and confirm whatever the free and uninfluenced choice of the people might have decided, what were their orders to their generals on the same subject? In the midst of these amicable explanations with you, came forth a decree which I really believe must be effaced from the minds of gentlemen opposite to me, if they can prevail upon themselves for a moment to hint even a doubt upon the origin of this quarrel, not only as to this country, but as to all the nations of Europe with whom France has been subsequently engaged in hostility. I speak of the decree of December 15. This decree, more even than all the previous transactions, amounted to an universal declaration of war against all thrones, and against all civilized governments. It said, wherever the armies of France shall come (whether within countries then at war or at peace is not distinguished), in all those countries it shall be the first care of their generals to introduce the principles and the practice of the French revolution; to demolish all privileged orders, and everything which obstructs the establishment of their new system.

If any doubt is entertained whither the armies of France were intended to come, if it is contended that they referred only to those nations with whom they were then at war, or with whom, in the course of this contest, they might be driven into war, let it be remembered that, at this very moment, they had actually given orders to their generals to pursue the Austrian army from the Netherlands into Holland, with whom they were at that time in peace. Or, even if the construction contended for is admitted, let us see what would have been its application; let us look at the list of their aggressions, which was read by my right honourable friend[2] near me. With whom have they been at war since the period of this declaration? With all the nations of Europe save two,[3] and if not with those two, it is only because, with every provocation that could justify defensive war, those countries have hitherto acquiesced in repeated violations of their rights, rather than recur to war for their vindication. Wherever their arms have been carried, it will be a matter of short subsequent inquiry to trace whether they have faithfully applied these principles. If in terms this decree is a denunciation of war against all governments; if in practice it has been applied against every one with which France has come into contact; what is it but the deliberate code of the French revolution, from the birth of the Republic, which has never once been departed from, which has been enforced with unremitted rigour against all the nations that have come into their power?

If there could otherwise be any doubt whether the application of this decree was intended to be universal, whether it applied to all nations, and to England particularly, there is one circumstance which alone would be decisive—that nearly at the same period it was proposed, in the National Convention (on a motion of M. Baraillon), to declare expressly that the decree of November 19 was confined to the nations with whom they were then at war; and that proposal was rejected by a great majority of that very Convention from whom we were desired to receive these explanations as satisfactory.

Such, Sir, was the nature of the system. Let us examine a little farther, whether it was from the beginning intended to be acted upon, in the extent which I have stated. At the very moment when their threats appeared to many little else than the ravings of madmen, they were digesting and methodizing the means of execution, as accurately as if they had actually foreseen the extent to which they have since been able to realize their criminal projects; they sat down coolly to devise the most regular and effectual mode of making the application of this system the current business of the day, and incorporating it with the general orders of their army; for (will the House believe it?) this confirmation of the decree of November 19 was accompanied by an exposition and commentary addressed to the general of every army of France, containing a schedule as coolly conceived, and as methodically reduced, as any by which the most quiet business of a justice of peace, or the most regular routine of any department of state in this country could be conducted. Each commander was furnished with one general blank formula of a letter for all the nations of the world! The people of France to the people of … greeting: 'We are come to expel your tyrants.' Even this was not all; one of the articles of the decree of December 15 was expressly, 'that those who should show themselves so brutish and so enamoured of their chains as to refuse the restoration of their rights, to renounce liberty and equality, or. to preserve, recall, or treat with their Prince or privileged orders, were not entitled to the distinction which France, in other cases, had justly established between Government and people; and that such a people ought to be treated according to the rigour of war, and of conquest.'[4] Here is their love of peace; here is their aversion to conquest; here is their respect for the independence of other nations! It was then, after receiving such explanations as these, after receiving the ultimatum of France, and after M. Chauvelin's credentials had ceased, that he was required to depart. Even after that period, I am almost ashamed to record it, we did not on our part shut the door against other attempts to negotiate; but this transaction was immediately followed by the declaration of war, proceeding not from England in vindication of its rights, but from France as the completion of the injuries and insults they had offered. And on a war thus originating, can it be doubted, by an English House of Commons, whether the aggression was on the part of this country or of France? or whether the manifest aggression on the part of France was the result of anything but the principles which characterize the French revolution?

What, then, are the resources and subterfuges by which those who agree with the learned gentleman are prevented from sinking under the force of this simple statement of facts? None but what are found in the insinuation contained in the note from France, that this country had, previous to the transactions to which I have referred, encouraged and supported the combination of other Powers directed against them. Upon this part of the subject, the proofs which contradict such an insinuation are innumerable. In the first place, the evidence of dates; in the second place, the admission of all the different parties in France; of the friends of Brissot charging on Robespierre the war with this country, and of the friends of Robespierre charging it on Brissot; but both acquitting England; the testimonies of the French Government during the whole interval, since the declaration of Pilnitz, and the date assigned to the pretended treaty of Pavia; the first of which had not the slightest relation to any project of partition or dismemberment; the second of which I firmly believe to be an absolute fabrication and forgery; and in neither of which, even as they are represented, any reason has been assigned for believing that this country had any share. Even M. Talleyrand himself was sent by the constitutional King of the French, after the period when that concert, which is now charged, must have existed, if it existed at all, with a letter from the King of France, expressly thanking His Majesty for the neutrality which he had uniformly observed. The same fact is confirmed by the recurring evidence of every person who knew anything of the plans of the King of Sweden in 1791; the only sovereign who, I believe, at that time meditated any hostile measures against France, and whose utmost hopes were expressly stated to be, that England would not oppose his intended expedition; by all those, also, who knew anything of the conduct of the Emperor, or the King of Prussia; by the clear and decisive testimony of M. Chauvelin himself, in his dispatches from hence to the French Government, since published by their authority; by everything which has occurred since the war; by the publications of Dumourier; by the publications of Brissot; by the facts that have since come to light in America, with respect to the mission of M. Ganet; which show that hostility against this country was decided on the part of France long before the period when M. Chauvelin was sent from hence. Besides this, the reduction of our peace establishment in the year 1791, and continued to the subsequent year, is a fact from which the inference is indisputable: a fact which, I am afraid, shows, not only that we were not waiting for the occasion of war, but that, in our partiality for a pacific system, we had indulged ourselves in a fond and credulous security, which wisdom and discretion would not have dictated. In addition to every other proof, it is singular enough, that in a decree, on the eve of the declaration of war on the part of France, it is expressly stated, as for the first time, that England was then departing from that system of neutrality which she had hitherto observed.

But, Sir, I will not rest merely on these testimonies or arguments, however strong and decisive. I assert, distinctly and positively, and I have the documents in my hand to prove it, that from the middle of the year 1791, upon the first rumour of any measure taken by the Emperor of Germany, and till late in the year 1792, we not only were no parties to any of the projects imputed to the Emperor, but, from the political circumstances in which we then stood with relation to that Court, we wholly declined all communications with him on the subject of France. To Prussia, with whom we were in connexion, and still more decisively to Holland, with whom we were in close and intimate correspondence, we uniformly stated our unalterable resolution to maintain neutrality, and avoid interference in the internal affairs of France, as long as France should refrain from hostile measures against us and our allies. No Minister of England had any authority to treat with foreign states, even provisionally, for any warlike concert, till after the battle of Jemappe; till a period subsequent to the repeated provocations which had been offered to us, and subsequent particularly to the decree of fraternity of November 19; even then, to what object was it that the concert which we wish to establish was to be directed? If we had then rightly cast the true character of the French revolution, I cannot now deny that we should have been better justified in a very different conduct. But it is material to the present argument to declare what that conduct actually was, because it is of itself sufficient to confute all the pretexts by which the advocates of France have so long laboured to perplex the question of aggression.

At that period, Russia had at length conceived, as well as ourselves, a natural and just alarm for the balance of Europe, and applied to us to learn our sentiments on the subject. In our answer to this application, we imparted to Russia the principles upon which we then acted, and we communicated this answer to Prussia, with whom we were connected in defensive alliance. I will state shortly the leading part of those principles. A dispatch was sent from Lord Grenville to His Majesty's Minister in Russia, dated December 29, 1792, stating a desire to have an explanation set on foot on the subject of the war with France. I will read the material parts of it.

'The two leading points on which such explanation will naturally turn, are the line of conduct to be followed previous to the commencement of hostilities, and with a view, if possible, to avert them; and the nature and amount of the forces which the. Powers engaged in this concert might be enabled to use, supposing such extremities unavoidable.

'With respect to the first, it appears on the whole, subject, however, to future consideration; and discussion with the other Powers, that the most advisable step to be taken would be, that sufficient explanation should be had with the Powers at war with France, in order to enable those not hitherto engaged in the war, to propose to that country terms of peace. That these terms should be, the withdrawing their arms within the limits of the French territory; the abandoning their conquests; the rescinding any acts injurious to the sovereignty or rights of any other nations, and the giving, in some public and unequivocal manner, a pledge of their intention no longer to foment troubles, or to excite disturbances against other governments. In return for these stipulations, the different Powers of Europe, who should be parties to this measure, might engage to abandon all measures or views of hostility against France, or interference in their internal affairs, and to maintain a correspondence and intercourse of amity with the existing powers in that country, with whom such a treaty may be concluded. If, on the result of this proposal so made by the Powers acting in concert, these terms should not be accepted by France, or being accepted, should not be satisfactorily performed, the different Powers might then engage themselves to each other to enter into active measures for the purpose of obtaining the ends in view; and it may be to be considered, whether, in such case, they might not reasonably look to some indemnity for the expenses and hazards to which they would necessarily be exposed. The dispatch then proceeded to the second point, that of the forces to be employed, on which it is unnecessary now to speak.

Now, Sir, I would really ask any person who has been, from the beginning, the most desirous of avoiding hostilities, whether it is possible to conceive any measure to be adopted in the situation in which we then stood, which could more evidently demonstrate our desire, after repeated provocations, to preserve peace, on any terms consistent with our safety; or whether any sentiment could now be suggested which would have more plainly marked our moderation, forbearance, and sincerity?

In saying this, I am not challenging the applause and approbation of my country, because I must now confess that we were too slow in anticipating that danger of which we had, perhaps, even then sufficient experience, though far short, indeed, of that which we now possess, and that we might even then have seen, what facts have since but too incontestably proved, that nothing but vigorous and open hostility can afford complete and adequate security against revolutionary principles, while they retain a proportion of power sufficient to furnish the means of war.

I will enlarge no farther on the origin of the war. I have read and detailed to you a system which was in itself a declaration of war against all nations, which was so intended, and which has been so applied, which has been exemplified in the extreme peril and hazard of almost all who for a moment have trusted to treaty, and which has not at this hour overwhelmed Europe in one indiscriminate mass of ruin, only because we have not indulged, to a fatal extremity, that disposition, which we have, however, indulged too far; because we have not consented to trust to profession and compromise, rather than to our own valour and exertion, for security against a system from which we never shall be delivered till either the principle is extinguished or till its strength is exhausted. I might, Sir, if I found it necessary, enter into much detail upon this part of the subject; but at present I only beg leave to express my readiness at any time to enter upon it, when either my own strength, or the patience of the House will admit of it; but I say, without distinction, against every nation in Europe, and against some out of Europe, the principle has been faithfully applied. You cannot look at the map of Europe and lay your hand upon that country against which France has not either declared an open and aggressive war, or violated some positive treaty, or broken some recognized principle of the law of nations.

This subject may be divided into various periods. There were some acts of hostility committed previous to the war with this country, and very little indeed subsequent to that declaration, which abjured the love of conquest. The attack upon the Papal State, by the seizure of Avignon, in 1791, was accompanied by a series of the most atrocious crimes and outrages that ever disgraced a revolution. Avignon was separated from its lawful sovereign, with whom not even the pretence of quarrel existed, and forcibly incorporated in the tyranny of one and indivisible France. The same system led, in the same year, to an aggression against the whole German Empire, by the seizure of Porentrui, part of the dominions of the Bishop of Basle. Afterwards, in 1792, unpreceded by any declaration of war, or any cause of hostility, and in direct violation of the solemn pledge to abstain from conquest, an attack was made upon the King of Sardinia, by the seizure of Savoy, for the purpose of incorporating it, in like manner, with France. In the same year, they had proceeded to the declaration of war against Austria, against Prussia, and against the German Empire, in which they have been justified only on a ground of rooted hostility, combination, and league of sovereigns for the dismemberment of France. I say that some of the documents brought to support this pretence are spurious and false; I say that even in those that are not so there is not one word to prove the charge principally relied upon, that of an intention to effect the dismemberment of France, or to impose upon it by force any particular constitution. I say that, as far as we have been able to trace what passed at Pilnitz, the declaration there signed referred to the imprisonment of Louis XVI; its immediate view was to effect his deliverance, if a concert sufficiently extensive could be formed with other sovereigns for that purpose. It left the internal state of France to be decided by the King restored to his liberty, with the free consent of the states of his kingdom, and it did not contain one word relative to the dismemberment of France.

In the subsequent discussions, which took place in 1792, and which embraced at the same time all the other points of jealousy which had arisen between the two countries, the declaration of Pilnitz was referred to, and explained on the part of Austria in a manner precisely conformable to what I have now stated; and the amicable explanations which took place, both on this subject and on all the matters in dispute, will be found in the official correspondence between the two Courts, which has been made public; and it will be found, also, that, as long as the negotiation continued to be conducted through M. Delessart, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, there was a great prospect that those discussions would be amicably terminated; but it is notorious, and has since been clearly proved, on the authority of Brissot himself, that the violent party in France considered such an issue of the negotiation as likely to be fatal to their projects, and thought, to use his own words, that 'war was necessary to consolidate the revolution'. For the express purpose of producing the war, they excited a popular tumult in Paris; they insisted upon and obtained the dismissal of M. Delessart. A new Minister was appointed in his room, the tone of the negotiation was immediately changed, and an ultimatum was sent to the Emperor, similar to that which was afterwards sent to this country, affording him no satisfaction on his just grounds of complaint, and requiring him, under those circumstances, to disarm. The first events of the contest proved how much more France was prepared for war than Austria, and afford a strong confirmation of the proposition which I maintain—that no offensive intention was entertained on the part of the latter Power.

War was then declared against Austria; a war which I state to be a war of aggression on the part of France. The King of Prussia had declared that he should consider war against the Emperor or Empire, as war against himself. He had declared that, as a co-estate of the Empire, he was determined to defend their rights; that, as an ally of the Emperor, he would support him to the utmost against any attack; and that, for the sake of his own dominions, he felt himself called upon to resist the progress of French principles, and to maintain the balance of power in Europe. With this notice before them, France declared war upon the Emperor, and the war with Prussia was the necessary consequence of this aggression, both against the Emperor and the Empire. The war against the King of Sardinia follows next. The declaration of that war was the seizure of Savoy, by an invading army; and on what ground? On that which has been stated already. They had found out, by some light of nature, that the Rhine and the Alps were the natural limits of France. Upon that ground Savoy was seized; and Savoy was also incorporated with France.

Here finishes the history of the wars in which France was engaged, antecedent to the war with Great Britain, with Holland, and with Spain. With respect to Spain, we have seen nothing in any part of its conduct which leads us to suspect that either attachment to religion, or the ties of consanguinity, or regard to the ancient system of Europe, was likely to induce that Court to connect itself in offensive war against France. The war was evidently and incontestably begun by France against Spain. The case of Holland is so fresh in every man's recollection, and so connected with the immediate causes of the war with this country, that it cannot require one word of observation. What shall I say, then, on the case of Portugal? I cannot indeed say that France ever declared war against that country; I can hardly say even that she ever made war, but she required them to make a treaty of peace, as if they had been at war; she obliged them to purchase that treaty; she broke it as soon as it was purchased, and she had originally no other ground of complaint than this: that Portugal had performed, though inadequately, the engagements of its ancient defensive alliance with this country, in the character of an auxiliary—a conduct which cannot of itself make any Power a principal in a war.

I have now enumerated all the nations at war at that period, with the exception only of Naples. It can hardly be necessary to call to the recollection of the House the characteristic feature of revolutionary principles which was shown, even at this early period, in the personal insult offered to the King of Naples by the commander of a French squadron, riding uncontrolled in the Mediterranean, and (while our fleets were yet unarmed) threatening destruction to all the coast of Italy.

It was not till a considerably later period that almost all the other nations of Europe found themselves equally involved in actual hostility: but it is not a little material to the whole of my argument, compared with the statement of the learned gentleman, and with that contained in the French note, to examine at what period this hostility extended itself. It extended itself, in the course of 1796, to the states of Italy which had hitherto been exempted from it. In 1797 it had ended in the destruction of most of them; it had ended in the virtual deposition of the King of Sardinia, it had ended in the conversion of Genoa and Tuscany into democratic republics; it had ended in the revolution of Venice, in the violation of treaties with the new Venetian republic; and finally, in transferring that very republic, the creature and vassal of France, to the dominion of Austria.

I observe from the gestures of some honourable gentlemen that they think we are precluded from the use of any argument founded on this last transaction. I already hear them saying, that it was as criminal in Austria to receive, as it was in France to give. I am far from defending or palliating the conduct of Austria upon this occasion: but because Austria, unable at last to contend with the arms of France, was forced to accept an unjust and insufficient indemnification from the conquests France had made from it, are we to be debarred from stating what, on the part of France, was not merely an unjust acquisition, but an act of the grossest and most aggravated perfidy and cruelty, and one of the most striking specimens of that system which has been uniformly and indiscriminately applied to all the countries which France has had within its grasp? This can only be said in vindication of France (and it is still more a vindication of Austria), that, practically speaking, if there is any part of this transaction for which Venice itself has reason to be grateful, it can only be for the permission to exchange the embraces of French fraternity for what is called the despotism of Vienna.

Let these facts, and these dates, be compared with what we have heard. The honourable gentleman has told us, and the author of the note from France has told us also, that all the French conquests were produced by the operations of the allies. It was when they were pressed on all sides, when their own territory was in danger, when their own independence was in question, when the confederacy appeared too strong; it was then they used the means with which their power and their courage furnished them; and, 'attacked upon all sides, they carried everywhere their defensive arms' (vide M. Talleyrand's note). I do not wish to misrepresent the learned gentleman, but I understood him to speak of this sentiment with approbation: the sentiment itself is this, that if a nation is unjustly attacked in any one quarter by others, she cannot stop to consider by whom, but must find means of strength in other quarters, no matter where; and is justified in attacking, in her turn, those with whom she is at peace, and from whom she has received no species of provocation.

Sir, I hope I have already proved, in a great measure, that no such attack was made upon France; but, if it was made, I maintain, that the whole ground on which that argument is founded cannot be tolerated. In the name of the laws of nature and nations, in the name of everything that is sacred and honourable, I demur to that plea, and I tell that honourable and learned gentleman that he would do well to look again into the law of nations, before he ventures to come to this House, to give the sanction of his authority to so dreadful and execrable a system.

[Mr. Erskine here said across the House, that he had never maintained such a proposition.]

I certainly understood this to be distinctly the tenor of the learned gentleman's argument; but as he tells me he did not use it, I take it for granted he did not intend to use it: I rejoice that he did not: but, at least, then I have a right to expect that the learned gentleman should now transfer to the French note some of the indignation which he has hitherto lavished upon the declarations of this country. This principle, which the learned gentleman disclaims, the French note avows: and I contend, without the fear of contradiction, it is the principle upon which France has uniformly acted. But while the learned gentleman disclaims this proposition, he certainly will admit, that he himself asserted, and maintained in the whole course of his argument, that the pressure of the war upon France imposed upon her the necessity of those exertions which produced most of the enormities of the revolution, and most of the enormities practised against the other countries of Europe. The House will recollect, that, in the year 1796, when all these horrors in Italy were beginning, which are the strongest illustrations of the general character of the French revolution, we had begun that negotiation to which the learned gentleman has referred. England then possessed numerous conquests; England, though not having at that time had the advantage of three of her most splendid victories, England, even then, appeared undisputed mistress of the sea; England, having then engrossed the whole wealth of the colonial world; England, having lost nothing of its original possessions; England then comes forward, proposing general peace, and offering—what? offering the surrender of all that it had acquired, in order to obtain—what? not the dismemberment, not the partition of ancient France, but the return of a part of those conquests, no one of which could be retained but in direct contradiction to that original and solemn pledge which is now referred to as the proof of the just and moderate disposition of the French Republic. Yet even this offer was not sufficient to procure peace, or to arrest the progress of France in her defensive operations against other offending countries. From the pages, however, of the learned gentleman's pamphlet (which, after all its editions, is now fresher in his memory than in that of any other person in this House, or in the country), he is furnished with an argument on the result of the negotiation, on which he appears confidently to rely. He maintains, that the single point on which the negotiation was broken off, was the question of the possession of the Austrian Netherlands; and that it is, therefore, on that ground only, that the war has, since that time, been continued. When this subject was before under discussion, I stated, and I shall state again (notwithstanding the learned gentleman's accusation of my having endeavoured to shift the question from its true point), that the question then at issue was not whether the Netherlands should, in fact, be restored, though even on that question I am not, like the learned gentleman, unprepared to give any opinion; I am ready to say, that to leave that territory in the possession of France, would be obviously dangerous to the interests of this country, and is inconsistent with the policy which it has uniformly pursued at every period in which it has concerned itself in the general system of the Continent; but it was not on the decision of this question of expediency and policy that the issue of the negotiation then turned; what was required of us by France was, not merely that we should acquiesce in her retaining the Netherlands, but that, as a preliminary to all treaty, and before entering upon the discussion of terms, we should recognize the principle, that whatever France, in time of war, had annexed to the Republic must remain inseparable for ever, and could not become the subject of negotiation. I say that, in refusing such a preliminary, we were only resisting the claim of France to arrogate to itself the power of controlling, by its own separate and municipal acts, the rights and interests of other countries, and moulding, at its discretion, a new and general code of the law of nations.

In reviewing the issue of this negotiation, it is important to observe that France, who began by abjuring a love of conquest, was desired to give up nothing of her own, not even to give up all that she had conquered; that it was offered to her to receive back all that had been conquered from her; and when she rejected the negotiation for peace upon these grounds, are we then to be told of the unrelenting hostility of the combined Powers, for which France was to revenge itself upon other countries, and which is to justify the subversion of every established government, and the destruction of property, religion, and domestic comfort, from one end of Italy to the other? Such was the effect of the war against Modena, against Genoa, against Tuscany, against Venice, against Rome, and against Naples; all of which she engaged in, or prosecuted, subsequent to this very period.

After this, in the year 1797, Austria had made peace, England and its ally, Portugal (from whom we could expect little active assistance, but whom we felt it our duty to defend), alone remained in the war. In that situation, under the pressure of necessity, which I shall not disguise, we made another attempt to negotiate. In 1797, Prussia, Spain, Austria, and Naples having successively made peace, the princes of Italy having been destroyed, France having surrounded itself, in almost every part in which it is not surrounded by the sea, with revolutionary republics, England made another offer of a different nature. It was not now a demand that France should restore anything. Austria having made a peace upon her own terms, England had nothing to require with regard to her allies; she asked no restitution of the dominions added to France in Europe. So far from retaining anything French out of Europe, we freely offered them all, demanding only, as a poor compensation, to retain a part of what we had acquired by arms from Holland, then identified with France, and that part useless to Holland and necessary for the security of our Indian possessions. This proposal also, Sir, was proudly refused, in a way which the learned gentleman himself has not attempted to justify, indeed of which he has spoken with detestation. I wish, since he has not finally abjured his duty in this House, that that detestation had been stated earlier, that he had mixed his own voice with the general voice of his country on the result of that negotiation.

Let us look at the conduct of France immediately subsequent to this period. She had spurned at the offers of Great Britain; she had reduced her Continental enemies to the necessity of accepting a precarious peace: she had (in spite of those pledges repeatedly made and uniformly violated) surrounded herself by new conquests, on every part of her frontier but one; that one was Switzerland. The first effect of being relieved from the war with Austria, of being secured against all fears of Continental invasion on the ancient territory of France, was their unprovoked attack against this unoffending and devoted country. This was one of the scenes which satisfied even those who were the most incredulous, that France had thrown off the mask, 'if indeed she had ever worn it.'[5] It collected, in one view, many of the characteristic features of that revolutionary system which I have endeavoured to trace. The perfidy which alone rendered their arms successful, the pretext of which they availed themselves to produce division and prepare the entrance of Jacobinism in that country, the proposal of armistice, one of the known and regular engines of the revolution, which was, as usual, the immediate prelude to military execution, attended with cruelty and barbarity, of which there are few examples: all these are known to the world. The country they attacked was one which had long been the faithful ally of France, which, instead of giving cause of jealousy to any other Power, had been, for ages, proverbial for the simplicity and innocence of its manners, and which had acquired and preserved the esteem of all the nations of Europe; which had almost, by the common consent of mankind, been exempted from the sound of war, and marked out as a land of Goshen, safe and untouched in the midst of surrounding calamities.

Look, then, at the fate of Switzerland, at the circumstances which led to its destruction, add this instance to the catalogue of aggression against all Europe, and then tell me whether the system I have described has not been prosecuted with an unrelenting spirit, which cannot be subdued in adversity, which cannot be appeased in prosperity, which neither solemn professions, nor the general law of nations, nor the obligation of treaties (whether previous to the revolution or subsequent to it), could restrain from the subversion of every state into which, either by force or fraud, their arms could penetrate. Then tell me whether the disasters of Europe are to be charged upon the provocation of this country and its allies, or on the inherent principle of the French revolution, of which the natural result produced so much misery and carnage in France, and carried desolation and terror over so large a portion of the world.

Sir, much as I have now stated, I have not finished the catalogue. America, almost as much as Switzerland, perhaps, contributed to that change, which has taken place in the minds of those who were originally partial to the principles of the French Government. The hostility against America followed a long course of neutrality adhered to, under the strongest provocations, or rather of repeated compliances to France, with which we might well have been dissatisfied. It was, on the face of it, unjust and wanton; and it was accompanied by those instances of sordid corruption which shocked and disgusted even the enthusiastic admirers of revolutionary purity, and threw a new light on the genius of revolutionary government.

After this, it remains only shortly to remind gentlemen of the aggression against Egypt, not omitting, however, to notice the capture of Malta, in the way to Egypt. Inconsiderable as that island may be thought, compared with the scenes we have witnessed, let it be remembered, that it is an island of which the Government had long been recognized by every state of Europe, against which France pretended no cause of war, and whose independence was as dear to itself and as sacred as that of any country in Europe. It was, in fact, not unimportant from its local situation to the other Powers of Europe, but in proportion as any man may diminish its importance the instance will only serve the more to illustrate and confirm the proposition which I have maintained. The all-searching eye of the French revolution looks to every part of Europe, and every quarter of the world, in which can be found an object either of acquisition or plunder. Nothing is too great for the temerity of its ambition, nothing too small or insignificant for the grasp of its rapacity. From hence Buonaparte and his army proceeded to Egypt. The attack was made, pretences were held out to the natives of that country in the name of the French King, whom they had murdered; they pretended to have the approbation of the grand seignior, whose territories they were violating; their project was carried on under the profession of a zeal for Mahometanism; it was carried on by proclaiming that France had been reconciled to the Mussulman faith, had abjured that of Christianity, or, as he in his impious language termed it, of 'the sect of the Messiah.'

The only plea which they have since held out to colour this atrocious invasion of a neutral and friendly territory, is, that it was the road to attack the English power in India. It is most unquestionably true, that this was one and a principal cause of this unparalleled outrage; but another, and an equally substantial cause (as appears by their own statements), was the division and partition of the territories of what they thought a falling Power. It is impossible to dismiss this subject without observing that this attack against Egypt was accompanied by an attack upon the British possessions in India, made on true revolutionary principles. In Europe, the propagation of the principles of France had uniformly prepared the way for the progress of its arms. To India, the lovers of peace had sent the messengers of Jacobinism, for the purpose of inculcating war in those distant regions, on Jacobin principles, and of forming Jacobin clubs, which they actually succeeded in establishing, and which in most respects resembled the European model, but which were distinguished by this peculiarity, that they were required to swear in one breath, hatred to tyranny, the love of liberty, and the destruction of all kings and sovereigns—except the good and faithful ally of the French Republic, CITIZEN TIPPOO.

What, then, was the nature of this system? Was it anything but what I have stated it to be—an insatiable love of aggrandizement, an implacable spirit of destruction directed against all the civil and religious institutions of every country? This is the first moving and acting spirit of the French revolution; this is the spirit which animated it at its birth, and this is the spirit which will not desert it till the moment of its dissolution, 'which grew with its growth, which strengthened with its strength,' but which has not abated under its misfortunes nor declined in its decay; it has been invariably the same in every period, operating more or less, according as accident or circumstances might assist it; but it has been inherent in the revolution in all its stages, it has equally belonged to Brissot, to Robespierre, to Tallien, to Reubel, to Barras, and to every one of the leaders of the Directory, but to none more than to Buonaparte, in whom now all their powers are united. What are its characters? Can it be accident that produced them? No, it is only from the alliance of the most horrid principles with the most horrid means, that such miseries could have been brought upon Europe. It is this paradox, which we must always keep in mind when we are discussing any question relative to the effects of the French revolution. Groaning under every degree of misery, the victim of its own crimes, and, as I once before expressed it in this House, asking pardon of God and of man for the miseries which it has brought upon itself and others, France still retains (while it has neither left means of comfort nor almost of subsistence to its own inhabitants) new and unexampled means of annoyance and destruction against all the other Powers of Europe.

Its first fundamental principle was to bribe the poor against the rich, by proposing to transfer into new hands, on the delusive notion of equality, and in breach of every principle of justice, the whole property of the country; the practical application of this principle was to devote the whole of that property to indiscriminate plunder, and to make it the foundation of a revolutionary system of finance, productive in proportion to the misery and desolation which it created. It has been accompanied by an unwearied spirit of proselytism, diffusing itself over all the nations of the earth; a spirit which can apply itself to all circumstances and all situations, which can furnish a list of grievances, and hold out a promise of redress equally to all nations, which inspired the teachers of French liberty with the hope of alike recommending themselves to those who live under the feudal code of the German Empire; to the various states of Italy, under all their different institutions; to the old republicans of Holland, and to the new republicans of America; to the Catholic of Ireland, whom it was to deliver from Protestant usurpation; to the Protestant of Switzerland, whom it was to deliver from popish superstition; and to the Mussulman of Egypt, whom it was to deliver from Christian persecution; to the remote Indian, blindly bigoted to his ancient institutions; and to the natives of Great Britain, enjoying the perfection of practical freedom, and justly attached to their constitution, from the joint result of habit, of reason, and of experience. The last and distinguishing feature is a perfidy which nothing can bind, which no tie of treaty, no sense of the principles generally received among nations, no obligation, human or divine, can restrain. Thus qualified, thus armed for destruction, the genius of the French revolution marched forth, the terror and dismay of the world. Every nation has in its turn been the witness, many have been the victims, of its principles, and it is left for us to decide whether we will compromise with such a danger, while we have yet resources to supply the sinews of war, while the heart and spirit of the country is yet unbroken, and while we have the means of calling forth and supporting a powerful co-operation in Europe.

Much more might be said on this part of the subject; but if what I have said already is a faithful, though only an imperfect, sketch of those excesses and outrages, which even history itself will hereafter be unable fully to record, and a just representation of the principle and source from which they originated, will any man say that we ought to accept a precarious security against so tremendous a danger? Much more will he pretend, after the experience of all that has passed, in the different stages of the French revolution, that we ought to be deterred from probing this great question to the bottom, and from examining, without ceremony or disguise, whether the change which has recently taken place in France is sufficient now to give security, not against a common danger, but against such a danger as that which I have described?

In examining this part of the subject, let it be remembered that there is one other characteristic of the French revolution, as striking as its dreadful and destructive principles; I mean the instability of its Government, which has been of itself sufficient to destroy all reliance, if any such reliance could, at any time, have been placed on the good faith of any of its rulers. Such has been the incredible rapidity with which the revolutions in France have succeeded each other, that I believe the names of those who have successively exercised absolute power, under the pretence of liberty, are to be numbered by the years of the revolution; and each of the new constitutions, which, under the same pretence, has, in its turn, been imposed by force on France, every one of which alike was founded upon principles which professed to be universal, and was intended to be established and perpetuated among all the nations of the earth—each of these will be found, upon an average, to have had about two years as the period of its duration.

Under this revolutionary system, accompanied with this perpetual fluctuation and change, both in the form of the Government and in the persons of the rulers, what is the security which has hitherto existed, and what new security is now offered? Before an answer is given to this question, let me sum up the history of all the revolutionary Governments of France, and of their characters in relation to other Powers, in words more emphatical than any which I could use—the memorable words pronounced, on the eve of this last constitution, by the orator[6] who was selected to report to an assembly, surrounded by a file of grenadiers, the new form of liberty which it was destined to enjoy under the auspices of General Buonaparte. From this reporter, the mouth and organ of the new Government, we learn this important lesson: 'It is easy to conceive why peace was not concluded before the establishment of the constitutional Government. The only Government which then existed described itself as revolutionary; it was, in fact, only the tyranny of a few men who were soon overthrown by others, and it consequently presented no stability of principles or of views, no security either with respect to men, or with respect to things. It should seem that that stability and that security ought to have existed from the establishment, and as the effect, of the constitutional system; and yet they did not exist more, perhaps even less, than they had done before. In truth, we did make some partial treaties, we signed a continental peace, and a general congress was held to confirm it; but these treaties, these diplomatic conferences, appear to have been the source of a new war, more inveterate and more bloody then before. Before the 18th Fructidor (September 4) of the 5th year, the French Government exhibited to foreign nations so uncertain an existence that they refused to treat with it. After this great event the whole power was absorbed in the Directory; the legislative body can hardly be said to have existed; treaties of peace were broken, and war carried everywhere, without that body having any share in those measures. The same Directory, after having intimidated all Europe, and destroyed, at its pleasure, several Governments, neither knowing how to make peace or war, or how even to establish itself, was overturned by a breath, on the 13th Prairial (June 18), to make room for other men, influenced, perhaps, by different views, or who might be governed by different principles. Judging, then, only from notorious facts, the French Government must be considered as exhibiting nothing fixed, neither in respect to men or to things.'

Here, then, is the picture, down to the period of the last revolution, of the state of France under all its successive Governments!

Having taken a view of what it was, let us now examine what it is. In the first place, we see, as has been truly stated, a change in the description and form of the sovereign authority; a supreme power is placed at the head of this nominal republic, with a more open avowal of military despotism than at any former period; with a more open and undisguised abandonment of the names and pretences under which that despotism long attempted to conceal itself. The different institutions, republican in their form and appearance, which were before the instruments of that despotism, are now annihilated; they have given way to the absolute power of one man, concentrating in himself all the authority of the State, and differing from other monarchs only in this, that, as my honourable friend[7] truly stated it, he wields a sword instead of a sceptre. What, then, is the confidence we are to derive either from the frame of the Government or from the character and past conduct of the person who is now the absolute ruler of France? Had we seen a man, of whom we had no previous knowledge, suddenly invested with the sovereign authority of the country; invested with the power of taxation, with the power of the sword, the power of war and peace, the unlimited power of commanding the resources, of disposing of the lives and fortunes of every man in France; if we had seen, at the same moment, all the inferior machinery of the revolution, which, under the variety of successive shocks, had kept the system in motion, still remaining entire, all that, by requisition and plunder, had given activity to the revolutionary system of finance, and had furnished the means of creating an army, by converting every man, who was of age to bear arms, into a soldier, not for the defence of his own country, but for the sake of carrying unprovoked war into surrounding countries; if we had seen all the subordinate instruments of Jacobin power subsisting in their full force, and retaining (to use the French phrase) all their original organization; and had then observed this single change in the conduct of their affairs, that there was now one man, with no rival to thwart his measures, no colleague to divide his powers, no council to control his operations, no liberty of speaking or writing, no expression of public opinion to check or influence his conduct; under such circumstances, should we be wrong to pause, or wait for the evidence of facts and experience, before we consented to trust our safety to the forbearance of a single man, in such a situation, and to relinquish those means of defence which have hitherto carried us safe through all the storms of the revolution? if we were to ask what are the principles and character of this stranger, to whom Fortune has suddenly committed the concerns of a great and powerful nation?

But is this the actual state of the present question? Are we talking of a stranger of whom we have heard nothing? No, Sir; we have heard of him; we, and Europe, and the world, have heard both of him and the satellites by whom he is surrounded; and it is impossible to discuss fairly the propriety of any answer which could be returned to his overtures of negotiation, without taking into consideration the inferences to be drawn from his personal character and conduct. I know it is the fashion with some gentlemen to represent any reference to topics of this nature as invidious and irritating; but the truth is, that they rise unavoidably out of the very nature of the question. Would it have been possible for Ministers to discharge their duty, in offering their advice to their Sovereign, either for accepting or declining negotiation, without taking into their account the reliance to be placed on the disposition and the principles of the person on whose disposition and principles the security to be obtained by treaty must, in the present circumstances, principally depend? or would they act honestly or candidly towards Parliament and towards the country, if, having been guided by these considerations, they forbore to state publicly and distinctly the real grounds which have influenced their decision; and if, from a false delicacy and groundless timidity, they purposely declined an examination of a point, the most essential towards enabling Parliament to form a just determination on so important a subject?

What opinion, then, are we led to form of the pretensions of the Consul to those particular qualities which, in the official note, are represented as affording us, from his personal character, the surest pledge of peace? We are told this is his second attempt at general pacification. Let us see, for a moment, how this second attempt has been conducted. There is, indeed, as the learned gentleman has said, a word in the first declaration which refers to general peace, and which states this to be the second time in which the Consul has endeavoured to accomplish that object. We thought fit, for the reasons which have been assigned, to decline altogether the proposal of treating, under the present circumstances; but we, at the same time, expressly stated that, whenever the moment for treaty should arrive, we would in no case treat but in conjunction with our allies. Our general refusal to negotiate at the present moment did not prevent the Consul from renewing his overtures; but were they renewed for the purpose of general pacification? Though he had hinted at general peace in the terms of his first note; though we had shown, by our answer, that we deemed negotiation, even for general peace, at this moment, inadmissible; though we added that, even at any future period, we would treat only in conjunction with our allies; what was the proposal contained in his last note?—To treat, not for general peace, but for a separate peace between Great Britain and France.

Such was the second attempt to effect general pacification: a proposal for a separate treaty with Great Britain. What had been the first?—The conclusion of a separate treaty with Austria: and, in addition to this fact, there are two anecdotes connected with the conclusion of this treaty which are sufficient to illustrate the disposition of this pacificator of Europe. This very treaty of Campo Formio was ostentatiously professed to be concluded with the Emperor, for the purpose of enabling Buonaparte to take the command of the army of England, and to dictate a separate peace with this country on the banks of the Thames. But there is this additional circumstance, singular beyond all conception, considering that we are now referred to the Treaty of Campo Formio as a proof of the personal disposition of the Consul to general peace; he sent his two confidential and chosen friends, Berthier and Monge, charged to communicate to the Directory this Treaty of Campo Formio; to announce to them that one enemy was humbled, that the war with Austria was terminated, and, therefore, that now was the moment to prosecute their operations against this country; they used, on this occasion, the memorable words, 'the Kingdom of Great Britain and the French Republic cannot exist together.' This, I say, was the solemn declaration of the deputies and ambassadors of Buonaparte himself, offering to the Directory the first-fruits of this first attempt at general pacification.

So much for his disposition towards general pacification: let us look next at the part he has taken in the different stages of the French revolution, and let us then judge whether we are to look to him as the security against revolutionary principles; let us determine what reliance we can place on his engagements with other countries, when we see how he has served his engagements to his own. When the constitution of the third year was established under Barras, that constitution was imposed by the arms of Buonaparte, then commanding the army of the Triumvirate in Paris. To that constitution he then swore fidelity. How often he has repeated the same oath I know not; but twice, at least, we know that he has not only repeated it himself, but tendered it to others, under circumstances too striking not to be stated.

Sir, the House cannot have forgotten the revolution of September 4, which produced the dismissal of Lord Malmesbury from Lisle. How was that revolution procured? It was procured chiefly by the promise of Buonaparte (in the name of his army) decidedly to support the Directory in those measures which led to the infringement and violation of everything that the authors of the constitution of 1795, or its adherents, could consider as fundamental, and which established a system of despotism inferior only to that now realized in his own person. Immediately before this event, in the midst of the desolation and bloodshed of Italy, he had received the sacred present of new banners from the Directory; he delivered them to his army with this exhortation: 'Let us swear, fellow soldiers, by the manes of the patriots who have died by our side, eternal hatred to the enemies of the constitution of the third year'—that very constitution which he soon after enabled the Directory to violate, and which, at the head of his grenadiers, he has now finally destroyed. Sir, that oath was again renewed, in the midst of that very scene to which I have last referred; the oath of fidelity to the constitution of the third year was administered to all the members of the assembly then sitting (under the terror of the bayonet), as the solemn preparation for the business of the day; and the morning was ushered in with swearing attachment to the constitution, that the evening might close with its destruction.

If we carry our views out of France, and look at the dreadful catalogue of all the breaches of treaty, all the acts of perfidy at which I have only glanced, and which are precisely commensurate with the number of treaties which the Republic have made (for I have sought in vain for any one which it has made and which it has not broken); if we trace the history of them all from the beginning of the revolution to the present time, or if we select those which have been accompanied by the most atrocious cruelty, and marked the most strongly with the characteristic features of the revolution, the name of Buonaparte will be found allied to more of them than that of any other that can be handed down in the history of the crimes and miseries of the last ten years. His name will be recorded with the horrors committed in Italy, in the memorable campaign of 1796 and 1797, in the Milanese, in Genoa, in Modena, in Tuscany, in Rome, and in Venice.

His entrance into Lombardy was announced by a solemn proclamation, issued on April 27, 1796, which terminated with these words: 'Nations of Italy! the French army is come to break your chains; the French are the friends of the people in every country; your religion, your property, your customs, shall be respected.' This was followed by a second proclamation, dated from Milan, May 20, and signed 'Buonaparte', in these terms: 'Respect for property and personal security, respect for the religion of countries: these are the sentiments of the Government of the French Republic, and of the army of Italy. The French, victorious, consider the nations of Lombardy as their brothers.' In testimony of this fraternity, and to fulfil the solemn pledge of respecting property, this very proclamation imposed on the Milanese a provisional contribution to the amount of twenty millions of livres, or near one million sterling; and successive exactions were afterwards levied on that single state to the amount, in the whole, of near six millions sterling. The regard to religion and to the customs of the country was manifested with the same scrupulous fidelity. The churches were given up to indiscriminate plunder. Every religious and charitable fund, every public treasure, was confiscated. The country was made the scene of every species of disorder and rapine. The priests, the established form of worship, all the objects of religious reverence, were openly insulted by the French troops; at Pavia, particularly, the tomb of St. Augustine, which the inhabitants were accustomed to view with peculiar veneration, was mutilated and defaced. This last provocation having roused the resentment of the people, they flew to arms, surrounded the French garrison, and took them prisoners, but carefully abstained from offering any violence to a single soldier. In revenge for this conduct, Buonaparte, then on his march to the Mincio, suddenly returned, collected his troops, and carried the extremity of military execution over the country: he burnt the town of Benasco, and massacred eight hundred of its inhabitants; he marched to Pavia, took it by storm, and delivered it over to general plunder, and published, at the same moment, a proclamation, of May 26, ordering his troops to shoot all those who had not laid down their arms and taken an oath of obedience, and to burn every village where the tocsin should be sounded, and to put its inhabitants to death.

The transactions with Modena were on a smaller scale, but in the same character. Buonaparte began by signing a treaty, by which the Duke of Modena was to pay twelve millions of livres, and neutrality was promised him in return; this was soon followed by the personal arrest of the Duke, and by a fresh extortion of two hundred thousand sequins; after this he was permitted, on the payment of a further sum, to sign another treaty, called a Convention de Sûereté, which of course was only the prelude to the repetition of similar exactions. Nearly at the same period, in violation of the rights of neutrality, and of the treaty which had been concluded between the French Republic and the Grand Duke of Tuscany in the preceding year, and in breach of a positive promise given only a few days before, the French army forcibly took possession of Leghorn, for the purpose of seizing the British property which was deposited there, and confiscating it as prize; and shortly after, when Buonaparte agreed to evacuate Leghorn in return for the evacuation of the island of Elba, which was in the possession of the British troops, he insisted upon a separate article, by which, in addition to the plunder before obtained, by the infraction of the law of nations, it was stipulated that the Grand Duke should pay to the French the expense which they had incurred by this invasion of his territory.

In the proceedings towards Genoa we shall find not only a continuation of the same system of extortion and plunder (in violation of the solemn pledge contained in the proclamations already referred to), but a striking instance of the revolutionary means employed for the destruction of independent governments. A French Minister was at that time resident at Genoa, which was acknowledged by France to be in a state of neutrality and friendship: in breach of this neutrality, Buonaparte began, in the year 1796, with the demand of a loan; he afterwards, from the month of September, required and enforced the payment of a monthly subsidy, to the amount which he thought proper to stipulate: these exactions were accompanied by repeated assurances and protestations of friendship; they were followed, in May, 1797, by a conspiracy against the Government, fomented by the emissaries of the French Embassy, and conducted by the partisans of France, encouraged and afterwards protected by the French Minister. The conspirators failed in their first attempt; overpowered by the courage and voluntary exertions of the inhabitants, their force was dispersed, and many of their number were arrested. Buonaparte instantly considered the defeat of the conspirators as an act of aggression against the French Republic; he dispatched an aide-de-camp with an order to the Senate of this independent state; first, to release all the French who were detained; secondly, to punish those who had arrested them; thirdly, to declare that they had had no share in the insurrection; and fourthly, to disarm the people. Several French prisoners were immediately released, and a proclamation was preparing to disarm the inhabitants, when, by a second note, Buonaparte required the arrest of the three Inquisitors of State, and immediate alterations in the constitution; he accompanied this with an order to the French Minister to quit Genoa if his commands were not immediately carried into execution; at the same moment his troops entered the territory of the republic, and shortly after the councils, intimidated and overpowered, abdicated their functions. Three deputies were then sent to Buonaparte to receive from him a new constitution; on June 6, after the conferences at Montebello, he signed a convention, or rather issued a decree, by which he fixed the new form of their Government; he himself named provisionally all the members who were to compose it, and he required the payment of seven millions of livres, as the price of the subversion of their constitution and their independence. These transactions require but one short comment; it is to be found in the official account given of them at Paris, which is in these memorable words: 'General Buonaparte has pursued the only line of conduct which could be allowed in the representative of a nation which has supported the war only to procure the solemn acknowledgement of the right of nations to change the form of their Government. He contributed nothing towards the revolution of Genoa, but he seized the first moment to acknowledge the new Government, as soon as he saw that it was the result of the wishes of the people.'[8]

It is unnecessary to dwell on the wanton attacks against Rome, under the direction of Buonaparte himself, in the year 1796, and in the beginning of 1797, which led first to the Treaty of Tolentino, concluded by Buonaparte, in which, by enormous sacrifices, the Pope was allowed to purchase the acknowledgement of his authority as a sovereign prince; and secondly, to the violation of that very treaty, and to the subversion of the papal authority by Joseph Buonaparte, the brother and the agent of the general, and the Minister of the French Republic to the Holy See: a transaction accompanied by outrages and insults towards the pious and venerable Pontiff (in spite of the sanctity of his age and the unsullied purity of his character), which even to a Protestant seemed hardly short of the guilt of sacrilege.

But of all the disgusting and tragical scenes which took place in Italy, in the course of the period I am describing, those which passed at Venice are perhaps the most striking and the most characteristic: in May, 1796, the French army, under Buonaparte, in the full tide of its success against the Austrians, first approached the territories of this Republic, which, from the commencement of the war, had observed a rigid neutrality. Their entrance on these territories was as usual accompanied by a solemn proclamation in the name of their general. 'Buonaparte to the Republic of Venice.' 'It is to deliver the finest country in Europe from the iron yoke of the proud House of Austria that the French army has braved obstacles the most difficult to surmount. Victory in union with justice has crowned its efforts. The wreck of the enemy's army has retired behind the Mincio. The French army, in order to follow them, passes over the territory of the Republic of Venice; but it will never forget, that ancient friendship unites the two republics. Religion, government, customs, and property, shall be respected. That the people may be without apprehension, the most severe discipline shall be maintained. All that may be provided for the army shall be faithfully paid for in money. The general-in-chief engages the officers of the Republic of Venice, the magistrates, and the priests, to make known these sentiments to the people, in order that confidence may cement that friendship which has so long united the two nations, faithful in the path of honour, as in that of victory. The French soldier is terrible only to the enemies of his liberty and his Government. Buonaparte.'

This proclamation was followed by exactions similar to those which were practised against Genoa, by the renewal of similar professions of friendship, and the use of similar means to excite insurrection. At length, in the spring of 1797, occasion was taken from disturbances thus excited, to forge, in the name of the Venetian Government, a proclamation[9], hostile to France; and this proceeding was made the ground for military execution against the country, and for effecting by force the subversion of its ancient government and the establishment of the democratic forms of the French revolution. This revolution was sealed by a treaty, signed in May, 1797, between Buonaparte and commissioners appointed on the part of the new and revolutionary Government of Venice. By the second and third secret articles of this treaty, Venice agreed to give as a ransom, to secure itself against all farther exactions or demands, the sum of three millions of livres in money, the value of three millions more in articles of naval supply, and three ships of the line; and it received in return the assurances of the friendship and support of the French Republic. Immediately after the signature of this treaty, the arsenal, the library, and the palace of St. Marc were ransacked and plundered, and heavy additional contributions were imposed upon its inhabitants: and, in not more than four months afterwards, this very Republic of Venice, united by alliance to France, the creature of Buonaparte himself, from whom it had received the present of French liberty, was by the same Buonaparte transferred under the Treaty of Campo Formio, to 'that iron yoke of the proud House of Austria', to deliver it from which he had represented in his first proclamation to be the great object of all his operations.

Sir, all this is followed by the memorable expedition into Egypt, which I mention, not merely because it forms a principal article in the catalogue of those acts of violence and perfidy in which Buonaparte has been engaged; not merely because it was an enterprise peculiarly his own, of which he was himself the planner, the executor, and the betrayer; but chiefly because, when from thence he retires to a different scene to take possession of a new throne, from which he is to speak upon an equality with the kings and governors of Europe, he leaves behind him, at the moment of his departure, a specimen, which cannot be mistaken, of his principles of negotiation. The intercepted correspondence, which has been alluded to in this debate, seems to afford the strongest ground to believe that his offers to the Turkish Government to evacuate Egypt were made solely with a view 'to gain time';[10] that the ratification of any treaty on this subject was to be delayed with the view of finally eluding its performance, if any change of circumstances favourable to the French should occur in the interval. But whatever gentlemen may think of the intention with which these offers were made, there will at least be no question with respect to the credit due to those professions by which he endeavoured to prove, in Egypt, his pacific dispositions. He expressly enjoins his successor strongly and steadily to insist, in all his intercourse with the Turks, that he came to Egypt with no hostile design, and that he never meant to keep possession of the country; while, on the opposite page of the same instructions, he states in the most unequivocal manner his regret at the discomfiture of his favourite project of colonizing Egypt, and of maintaining it as a territorial acquisition. Now, Sir, if in any note addressed to the Grand Vizier, or the Sultan, Buonaparte had claimed credit for the sincerity of his professions, that he forcibly invaded Egypt with no view hostile to Turkey, and solely for the purpose of molesting the British interests, is there any one argument now used to induce us to believe his present professions to us which might not have been equally urged on that occasion to the Turkish Government? Would not those professions have been equally supported by solemn asseverations, by the same reference which is now made to personal character, with this single difference, that they would then have been accompanied with one instance less of that perfidy which we have had occasion to trace in this very transaction?

It is unnecessary to say more with respect to the credit due to his professions, or the reliance to be placed on his general character: but it will, perhaps, be argued that, whatever may be his character, or whatever has been his past conduct, he has now an interest in making and observing peace. That he has an interest in making peace is at best but a doubtful proposition, and that he has an interest in preserving it is still more uncertain. That it is his interest to negotiate, I do not indeed deny; it is his interest above all to engage this country in separate negotiation, in order to loosen and dissolve the whole system of the confederacy on the Continent, to palsy, at once, the arms of Russia or of Austria, or of any other country that might look to you for support; and then either to break off his separate treaty, or if he should have concluded it, to apply the lesson which is taught in his school of policy in Egypt; and to revive, at his pleasure, those claims of indemnification which may have been reserved to some happier period.[11]

This is precisely the interest which he has in negotiation; but on what grounds are we to be convinced that he has an interest in concluding and observing a solid and permanent pacification? Under all the circumstances of his personal character, and his newly acquired power, what other security has he for retaining that power, but the sword? His hold upon France is the sword, and he has no other. Is he connected with the soil, or with the habits, the affections, or the prejudices of the country? He is a stranger, a foreigner, and an usurper; he unites in his own person everything that a pure Republican must detest; everything that an enraged Jacobin has abjured; everything that a sincere and faithful Royalist must feel as an insult. If he is opposed at any time in his career, what is his appeal? He appeals to his fortune; in other words, to his army and his sword. Placing, then, his whole reliance upon military support, can he afford to let his military renown pass away, to let his laurels wither, to let the memory of his achievements sink in obscurity? Is it certain that, with his army confined within France, and restrained from inroads upon her neighbours, he can maintain at his devotion a force sufficiently numerous to support his power? Having no object but the possession of absolute dominion, no passion but military glory, is it certain that he can feel such an interest in permanent peace as would justify us in laying down our arms, reducing our expense, and relinquishing our means of security, on the faith of his engagements? Do we believe that, after the conclusion of peace, he would not still sigh over the lost trophies of Egypt, wrested from him by the celebrated victory of Aboukir and the brilliant exertions of that heroic band of British seamen whose influence and example rendered the Turkish troops invincible at Acre? Can he forget that the effect of these exploits enabled Austria and Russia, in one campaign, to recover from France all which she had acquired by his victories, to dissolve the charm which, for a time, fascinated Europe, and to show that their generals, contending in a just cause, could efface, even by their success and their military glory, the most dazzling triumphs of his victories and desolating ambition?

Can we believe, with these impressions on his mind, that if, after a year, eighteen months, or two years, of peace had elapsed, he should be tempted by the appearance of a fresh insurrection in Ireland, encouraged by renewed and unrestrained communication with France, and fomented by the fresh infusion of Jacobin principles, if we were at such a moment without a fleet to watch the ports of France, or to guard the coasts of Ireland, without a disposable army, or an embodied militia, capable of supplying a speedy and adequate reinforcement, and that he had suddenly the means of transporting thither a body of twenty or thirty thousand French troops: can we believe, that at such a moment his ambition and vindictive spirit would be restrained by the recollection of engagements, or the obligation of treaty? Or, if in some new crisis of difficulty and danger to the Ottoman Empire, with no British navy in the Mediterranean, no confederacy formed, no force collected to support it, an opportunity should present itself for resuming the abandoned expedition to Egypt, for renewing the avowed and favourite project of conquering and colonizing that rich and fertile country, and of opening the way to wound some of the vital interests of England, and to plunder the treasures of the East, in order to fill the bankrupt coffers of France, would it be the interest of Buonaparte, under such circumstances, or his principles, his moderation, his love of peace, his aversion to conquest, and his regard for the independence of other nations—would it be all or any of these that would secure us against an attempt, which would leave us only the option of submitting, without a struggle, to certain loss and disgrace, or of renewing the contest which we had prematurely terminated, and renewing it without allies, without preparation, with diminished means, and with increased difficulty and hazard?

Hitherto I have spoken only of the reliance which we can place on the professions, the character, and the conduct of the present First Consul; but it remains to consider the stability of his power. The revolution has been marked throughout by a rapid succession of new depositaries of public authority, each supplanting his predecessor; what grounds have we as yet to believe that this new usurpation, more odious and more undisguised than all that preceded it, will be more durable? Is it that we rely on the particular provisions contained in the code of the pretended constitution, which was proclaimed as accepted by the French people, as soon as the garrison of Paris declared their determination to exterminate all its enemies, and before any of its articles could even be known to half the country, whose consent was required for its establishment?

I will not pretend to inquire deeply into the nature and effects of a constitution which can hardly be regarded but as a farce and a mockery. If, however, it could be supposed that its provisions were to have any effect, it seems equally adapted to two purposes; that of giving to its founder for a time an absolute and uncontrolled authority, and that of laying the certain foundation of future disunion and discord, which, if they once prevail, must render the exercise of all the authority under the constitution impossible, and leave no appeal but to the sword.

Is, then, military despotism that which we are accustomed to consider as a stable form of government? In all ages of the world it has been attended with the least stability to the persons who exercised it, and with the most rapid succession of changes and revolutions. The advocates of the French revolution boasted in its outset, that by their new system they had furnished a security for ever, not to France only but to all countries in the world, against military despotism; that the force of standing armies was vain and delusive; that no artificial power could resist public opinion; and that it was upon the foundation of public opinion alone that any government could stand. I believe that in this instance, as in every other, the progress of the French revolution has belied its professions; but so far from its being a proof of the prevalence of public opinion against military force, it is, instead of the proof, the strongest exception from that doctrine which appears in the history of the world. Through all the stages of the revolution military force has governed; public opinion has scarcely been heard. But still I consider this as only an exception from a general truth; I still believe that in every civilized country (not enslaved by a Jacobin faction) public opinion is the only sure support of any government: I believe this with the more satisfaction, from a conviction that, if this contest is happily terminated, the established Governments of Europe will stand upon that rock firmer than ever; and whatever may be the defects of any particular constitution, those who live under it will prefer its continuance to the experiment of changes which may plunge them in the unfathomable abyss of revolution, or extricate them from it only to expose them to the terrors of military despotism. And to apply this to France, I see no reason to believe that the present usurpation will be more permanent than any other military despotism which has been established by the same means, and with the same defiance of public opinion.

What, then, is the inference I draw from all that I have now stated? Is it that we will in no case treat with Buonaparte? I say no such thing. But I say, as has been said in the answer returned to the French note, that we ought to wait for experience, and the evidence of facts, before we are convinced that such a treaty is admissible. The circumstances I have stated would well justify us if we should be slow in being convinced; but on a question of peace and war, everything depends upon degree, and upon comparison. If, on the one hand, there should be an appearance that the policy of France is at length guided by different maxims from those which have hitherto prevailed; if we should hereafter see signs of stability in the Government, which are not now to be traced; if the progress of the allied army should not call forth such a spirit in France as to make it probable that the act of the country itself will destroy the system now prevailing; if the danger, the difficulty, the risk of continuing the contest, should increase, while the hope of complete ultimate success should be diminished; all these, in their due place, are considerations which, with myself and (I can answer for it) with every one of my colleagues, will have their just weight. But at present these considerations all operate one way; at present there is nothing from which we can presage a favourable disposition to change in the French councils. There is the greatest reason to rely on powerful co-operation from our allies; there are the strongest marks of a disposition in the interior of France to active resistance against this new tyranny; and there is every ground to believe, on reviewing our situation, and that of the enemy, that if we are ultimately disappointed of that complete success which we are at present entitled to hope, the continuance of the contest, instead of making our situation comparatively worse, will have made it comparatively better.

If, then, I am asked how long are we to persevere in the war, I can only say, that no period can be accurately assigned beforehand. Considering the importance of obtaining complete security for the objects for which we contend, we ought not to be discouraged too soon: but on the other hand, considering the importance of not impairing and exhausting the radical strength of the country, there are limits beyond which we ought not to persist, and which we can determine only by estimating and comparing fairly, from time to time, the degree of security to be obtained by treaty, and the risk and disadvantage of continuing the contest.

But, Sir, there are some gentlemen in the House who seem to consider it already certain that the ultimate success to which I am looking is unattainable: they suppose us contending only for the restoration of the French monarchy, which they believe to be impracticable, and deny to be desirable for this country. We have been asked in the course of this debate, do you think you can impose monarchy upon France, against the will of the nation? I never thought it, I never hoped it, I never wished it: I have thought, I have hoped, I have wished, that the time might come when the effect of the arms of the allies might so far overpower the military force which keeps France in bondage as to give vent and scope to the thoughts and actions of its inhabitants. We have, indeed, already seen abundant proof of what is the disposition of a large part of the country; we have seen almost through the whole of the revolution the western provinces of France deluged with the blood of its inhabitants, obstinately contending for their ancient laws and religion. We have recently seen, in the revival of that war, a fresh instance of the zeal which still animates those countries in the same cause. These efforts (I state it distinctly, and there are those near me who can bear witness to the truth of the assertion) were not produced by any instigation from hence; they were the effects of a rooted sentiment prevailing through all those provinces, forced into action by the Law of the Hostages and the other tyrannical measures of the Directory, at the moment when we were endeavouring to discourage so hazardous an enterprise. If, under such circumstances, we find them giving proofs of their unalterable perseverance in their principles; if there is every reason to believe that the same disposition prevails in many other extensive provinces of France; if every party appears at length equally wearied and disappointed with all the successive changes which the revolution has produced; if the question is no longer between monarchy, and even the pretence and name of liberty, but between the ancient line of hereditary princes on the one hand, and a military tyrant, a foreign usurper, on the other; if the armies of that usurper are likely to find sufficient occupation on the frontiers, and to be forced at length to leave the interior of the country at liberty to manifest its real feeling and disposition; what reason have we to anticipate that the restoration of monarchy, under such circumstances, is impracticable?

The learned gentleman has, indeed, told us that almost every man now possessed of property in France must necessarily be interested in resisting such a change, and that therefore it never can be effected. If that single consideration were conclusive against the possibility of a change, for the same reason the revolution itself, by which the whole property of the country was taken from its ancient possessors, could never have taken place. But though I deny it to be an insuperable obstacle, I admit it to be a point of considerable delicacy and difficulty. It is not, indeed, for us to discuss minutely what arrangement might be formed on this point to conciliate and unite opposite interests; but whoever considers the precarious tenure and depreciated value of lands held under the revolutionary title, and the low price for which they have generally been obtained, will think it, perhaps, not impossible that an ample compensation might be made to the bulk of the present possessors, both for the purchase-money they have paid and for the actual value of what they now enjoy; and that the ancient proprietors might be reinstated in the possession of their former rights, with only such a temporary sacrifice as reasonable men would willingly make to obtain so essential an object.

The honourable and learned gentleman, however, has supported his reasoning on this part of the subject by an argument which he undoubtedly considers as unanswerable—a reference to what would be his own conduct in similar circumstances; and he tells us that every landed proprietor in France must support the present order of things in that country from the same motive that he and every proprietor of three per cent stock would join in the defence of the constitution of Great Britain. I must do the learned gentleman the justice to believe that the habits of his profession must supply him with better and nobler motives for defending a constitution which he has had so much occasion to study and examine, than any which he can derive from the value of his proportion (however large) of three per cents, even supposing them to continue to increase in price as rapidly as they have done during the last three years, in which the security and prosperity of the country has been established by following a system directly opposed to the counsels of the learned gentleman and his friends.

The learned gentleman's illustration, however, though it fails with respect to himself, is happily and aptly applied to the state of France; and let us see what inference it furnishes with respect to the probable attachment of moneyed men to the continuance of the revolutionary system, as well as with respect to the general state of public credit in that country. I do not, indeed, know that there exists precisely any fund of three per cents in France, to furnish a test for the patriotism and public spirit of the lovers of French liberty. But there is another fund which may equally answer our purpose—the capital of three per cent stock which formerly existed in France has undergone a whimsical operation, similar to many other expedients of finance which we have seen in the course of the revolution—this was performed by a decree which, as they termed it, republicanized their debt; that is, in other words, struck off, at once, two-thirds of the capital, and left the proprietors to take their chance for the payment of interest on the remainder. This remnant was afterwards converted into the present five per cent stock. I had the curiosity very lately to inquire what price it bore in the market, and I was told that the price had somewhat risen from confidence in the new Government, and was actually as high as seventeen. I really at first supposed that my informer meant seventeen years' purchase for every pound of interest, and I began to be almost jealous of revolutionary credit; but I soon found that he literally meant seventeen pounds for every hundred pounds capital stock of five per cent, that is, a little more than three and a half years' purchase. So much for the value of revolutionary property, and for the attachment with which it must inspire its possessors towards the system of government to which that value is to be ascribed!

On the question, Sir, how far the restoration of the French monarchy, if practicable, is desirable, I shall not think it necessary to say much. Can it be supposed to be indifferent to us or to the world, whether the throne of France is to be filled by a prince of the House of Bourbon, or by him whose principles and conduct I have endeavoured to develop? Is it nothing, with a view to influence and example, whether the fortune of this last adventurer in the lottery of revolutions shall appear to be permanent? Is it nothing whether a system shall be sanctioned which confirms by one of its fundamental articles that general transfer of property from its ancient and lawful possessors, which holds out one of the most terrible examples of national injustice, and which has furnished the great source of revolutionary finance and revolutionary strength against all the Powers of Europe?

In the exhausted and impoverished state of France, it seems for a time impossible that any system but that of robbery and confiscation, anything but the continued torture, which can be applied only by the engines of the revolution, can extort from its ruined inhabitants more than the means of supporting, in peace, the yearly expenditure of its Government. Suppose, then, the heir of the House of Bourbon reinstated on the throne; he will have sufficient occupation in endeavouring, if possible, to heal the wounds, and gradually to repair the losses, of ten years of civil convulsion; to reanimate the drooping commerce, to rekindle the industry, to replace the capital, and to revive the manufactures of the country. Under such circumstances, there must probably be a considerable interval before such a monarch, whatever may be his views, can possess the power which can make him formidable to Europe; but while the system of the revolution continues, the case is quite different. It is true, indeed, that even the gigantic and unnatural means by which that revolution has been supported are so far impaired; the influence of its principles and the terror of its arms so far weakened; and its power of action so much contracted and circumscribed, that against the embodied force of Europe, prosecuting a vigorous war, we may justly hope that the remnant and wreck of this system cannot long oppose an effectual resistance. But, supposing the confederacy of Europe prematurely dissolved: supposing our armies disbanded, our fleets laid up in our harbours, our exertions relaxed, and our means of precaution and defence relinquished; do we believe that the revolutionary power, with this rest and breathing-time given it to recover from the pressure under which it is now sinking, possessing still the means of calling suddenly and violently into action whatever is the remaining physical force of France, under the guidance of military despotism; do we believe that this power, the terror of which is now beginning to vanish, will not again prove formidable to Europe? Can we forget that, in the ten years in which that power has subsisted, it has brought more misery on surrounding nations, and produced more acts of aggression, cruelty, perfidy, and enormous ambition, than can be traced in the history of France for the centuries which have elapsed since the foundation of its monarchy, including all the wars which, in the course of that period, have been waged by any of those sovereigns whose projects of aggrandizement, and violations of treaty, afford a constant theme of general reproach against the ancient government of France? And with these considerations before us, can we hesitate whether we have the best prospect of permanent peace, the best security for the independence and safety of Europe, from the restoration of the lawful government, or from the continuance of revolutionary power in the hands of Buonaparte?

In compromise and treaty with such a power, placed in such hands as now exercise it, and retaining the same means of annoyance which it now possesses, I see little hope of permanent security. I see no possibility at this moment of concluding such a peace as would justify that liberal intercourse which is the essence of real amity; no chance of terminating the expenses or the anxieties of war, or of restoring to us any of the advantages of established tranquillity; and as a sincere lover of peace, I cannot be content with its nominal attainment; I must be desirous of pursuing that system which promises to attain, in the end, the permanent enjoyment of its solid and substantial blessings for this country, and for Europe. As a sincere lover of peace, I will not sacrifice it by grasping at the shadow, when the reality is not substantially within my reach—Cur igitur pacem nolo? Quid infida est, quia periculosa, quia esse non potest.

If, Sir, in all that I have now offered to the House, I have succeeded in establishing the proposition that the system of the French revolution has been such as to afford to foreign Powers no adequate ground for security in negotiation, and that the change which has recently taken place has not yet afforded that security; if I have laid before you a just statement of the nature and extent of the danger with which we have been threatened; it would remain only shortly to consider, whether there is anything in the circumstances of the present moment to induce us to accept a security confessedly inadequate against a danger of such a description.

It will be necessary here to say a few words on the subject on which gentlemen have been so fond of dwelling; I mean our former negotiations, and particularly that at Lisle in 1797. I am desirous of stating frankly and openly the true motives which induced me to concur in then recommending negotiation; and I will leave it to the House, and to the country, to judge whether our conduct at that time was inconsistent with the principles by which we are guided at present. That revolutionary policy which I have endeavoured to describe, that gigantic system of prodigality and bloodshed by which the efforts of France were supported, and which counts for nothing the lives and the property of a nation, had at that period driven us to exertions which had, in a great measure, exhausted the ordinary means of defraying our immense expenditure, and had led many of those who were the most convinced of the original justice and necessity of the war, and of the danger of Jacobin principles, to doubt the possibility of persisting in it till complete and adequate security could be obtained. There seemed, too, much reason to believe that, without some new measure to check the rapid accumulation of debt, we could no longer trust to the stability of that funding system by which the nation had been enabled to support the expense of all the different wars in which we have engaged in the course of the present century. In order to continue our exertions with vigour, it became necessary that a new and solid system of finance should be established, such as could not be rendered effectual but by the general and decided concurrence of public opinion. Such a concurrence in the strong and vigorous measures necessary for the purpose could not then be expected but from satisfying the country, by the strongest and most decided proofs, that peace on terms in any degree admissible was unattainable.

Under this impression we thought it our duty to attempt negotiation, not from the sanguine hope, even at that time, that its result could afford us complete security, but from the persuasion that the danger arising from peace under such circumstances was less than that of continuing the war with precarious and inadequate means. The result of those negotiations proved that the enemy would be satisfied with nothing less than the sacrifice of the honour and independence of the country. From this conviction a spirit and enthusiasm was excited in the nation, which produced the efforts to which we are indebted for the subsequent change in our situation. Having witnessed that happy change, having observed the increasing prosperity and security of the country from that period, seeing how much more satisfactory our prospects now are than any which we could then have derived from the successful result of negotiation, I have not scrupled to declare, that I consider the rupture of the negotiation, on the part of the enemy, as a fortunate circumstance for the country. But because these are my sentiments at this time, after reviewing what has since passed, does it follow that we were, at that time, insincere in endeavouring to obtain peace? The learned gentleman, indeed, assumes that we were; and he even makes a concession, of which I desire not to claim the benefit; he is willing to admit that, on our principles, and our view of the subject, insincerity would have been justifiable. I know, Sir, no plea that would justify those who are entrusted with the conduct of public affairs, in holding out to Parliament and to the nation one object while they were, in fact, pursuing another. I did, in fact, believe, at the moment, the conclusion of peace (if it could have been obtained) to be preferable to the continuance of the war under its increasing risks and difficulties. I therefore wished for peace; I sincerely laboured for peace. Our endeavours were frustrated by the act of the enemy. If, then, the circumstances are since changed, if what passed at that period has afforded a proof that the object we aimed at was unattainable, and if all that has passed since has proved that, if peace had been then made, it could not have been durable, are we bound to repeat the same experiment, when every reason against it is strengthened by subsequent experience, and when the inducements, which led to it at that time, have ceased to exist?

When we consider the resources and the spirit of the country, can any man doubt that if adequate security is not now to be obtained by treaty, we have the means of prosecuting the contest without material difficulty or danger, and with a reasonable prospect of completely attaining our object? I will not dwell on the improved state of public credit, on the continually increasing amount (in spite of extraordinary temporary burdens) of our permanent revenue, on the yearly accession of wealth to a degree unprecedented even in the most flourishing times of peace, which we are deriving, in the midst of war, from our extended and flourishing commerce; on the progressive improvement and growth of our manufactures; on the proofs which we see on all sides of the uninterrupted accumulation of productive capital; and on the active exertion of every branch of national industry, which can tend to support and augment the population, the riches, and the power of the country.

As little need I recall the attention of the House to the additional means of action which we have derived from the great augmentation of our disposable military force, the continued triumphs of our powerful and victorious navy, and the events which, in the course of the last two years, have raised the military ardour and military glory of the country to a height unexampled in any period of our history.

In addition to these grounds of reliance on our own strength and exertions, we have seen the consummate skill and valour of the arms of our allies proved by that series of unexampled success which distinguished the last campaign, and we have every reason to expect a co-operation on the Continent, even to a greater extent, in the course of the present year. If we compare this view of our own situation with everything we can observe of the state and condition of our enemy; if we can trace him labouring under equal difficulty in finding men to recruit his army, or money to pay it; if we know that in the course of the last year the most rigorous efforts of military conscription were scarcely sufficient to replace to the French armies, at the end of the campaign, the numbers which they had lost in the course of it; if we have seen that the force of the enemy, then in possession of advantages which it has since lost, was unable to contend with the efforts of the combined armies; if we know that, even while supported by the plunder of all the countries which they had overrun, the French armies were reduced, by the confession of their commanders, to the extremity of distress, and destitute not only of the principal articles of military supply, but almost of the necessaries of life: if we see them now driven back within their own frontiers, and confined within a country whose own resources have long since been proclaimed by their successive governments to be unequal either to paying or maintaining them; if we observe that, since the last revolution, no one substantial or effectual measure has been adopted to remedy the intolerable disorder of their finances, and to supply the deficiency of their credit and resources; if we see, through large and populous districts of France, either open war levied against the present usurpation, or evident marks of disunion and distraction, which the first occasion may call forth into a flame; if, I say, Sir, this comparison be just, I feel myself authorized to conclude from it, not that we are entitled to consider ourselves certain of ultimate success, not that we are to suppose ourselves exempted from the unforeseen vicissitudes of war; but that, considering the value of the object for which we are contending, the means for supporting the contest, and the probable course of human events, we should be inexcusable if at this moment we were to relinquish the struggle on any grounds short of entire and complete security against the greatest danger which has ever yet threatened the world; that from perseverance in our efforts under such circumstances we have the fairest reason to expect the full attainment of that object; but that at all events, even if we are disappointed in our more sanguine hopes, we are more likely to gain than to lose by the continuation of the contest; that every month to which it is continued, even if it should not in its effects lead to the final destruction of the Jacobin system, must tend so far to weaken and exhaust it as to give us at least a greater comparative security in any other termination of the war; that on all these grounds this is not the moment at which it is consistent with our interest or our duty to listen to any proposals of negotiation with the present ruler of France; but that we are not therefore pledged to any unalterable determination as to our future conduct; that in this we must be regulated by the course of events; and that it will be the duty of His Majesty's Ministers from time to time to adapt their measures to any variation of circumstances, to consider how far the effects of the military operations of the allies, or of the internal disposition of France, correspond with our present expectations; and, on a view of the whole, to compare the difficulties or risks which may arise in the prosecution of the contest, with the prospect of ultimate success, or of the degree of advantage which may be derived from its farther continuance, and to be governed by the result of all these considerations in the opinion and advice which they may offer to their Sovereign.

[Footnote 1: Mr. Erskine.]

[Footnote 2: Mr. Dundas.]

[Footnote 3: Sweden and Denmark.]

[Footnote 4: Vide Decree of December 15, 1792.]

[Footnote 5: Vide Speeches at the Whig Club.]

[Footnote 6: Vide Speech of Boulay de la Meurthe, in the Council of
Five Hundred, at St. Cloud, 18th Brumaire (9th November), 1799.]

[Footnote 7: Mr. Canning.]

[Footnote 8: Rédacteur Officiel, June 30, 1797.]

[Footnote 9: Vide account of this transaction in the Proclamation of the Senate of Venice, April 12, 1798.]

[Footnote 10: Vide 'Intercepted Letters from Egypt'.]

[Footnote 11: Vide 'Intercepted Letters from Egypt'.]

GEORGE CANNING

APRIL 30, 1823

NEGOTIATIONS RELATIVE TO SPAIN

I am exceedingly sorry, Mr. Speaker, to stand in the way of any honourable gentleman who wishes to address the House on this important occasion. But, considering the length of time which the debate has already occupied, considering the late hour to which we have now arrived on the third night of discussion, I fear that my own strength, as well as that of the House, would be exhausted, if I were longer to delay the explanations which it is my duty to offer, of the conduct which His Majesty's Government have pursued, and of the principles by which they have been guided, through a course of negotiations as full of difficulty as any that have ever occupied the attention of a Ministry, or the consideration of Parliament.

If gratitude be the proper description of that sentiment which one feels towards the unconscious bestower of an unintended benefit, I acknowledge myself sincerely grateful to the honourable gentleman (Mr. Macdonald) who has introduced the present motion. Although I was previously aware that the conduct of the Government in the late negotiations had met with the individual concurrence of many, perhaps of a great majority, of the members of this House; although I had received intimations not to be mistaken, of the general satisfaction of the country; still, as from the manner in which the papers have been laid before Parliament, it was not the intention of the Government to call for any opinion upon them, I feel grateful to the honourable gentleman who has, in so candid and manly a manner, brought them under distinct discussion; and who, I hope, will become, however unwillingly, the instrument of embodying the sentiments of individuals and of the country into a vote of parliamentary approbation.

The Government stands in a singular situation with respect to these negotiations. They have maintained peace: they have avoided war. Peace or war—the one or the other—is usually the result of negotiations between independent States. But all the gentlemen on the other side, with one or two exceptions (exceptions which I mention with honour), have set out with declaring, that whatever the question before the House may be, it is not a question of peace or war. Now this does appear to me to be a most whimsical declaration; especially when I recollect, that before this debate commenced, it was known—it was not disguised, it was vaunted without scruple or reserve—that the dispositions of those opposed to Ministers were most heroically warlike. It was not denied that they considered hostilities with France to be desirable as well as necessary. The cry 'to arms' was raised, and caps were thrown up for war, from a crowd which, if not numerous, was yet loud in their exclamations. But now, when we come to inquire whence these manifestations of feeling proceeded, two individuals only have acknowledged that they had joined in the cry; and for the caps which have been picked up it is difficult to find a wearer.

But, Sir, whatever may be contended to be the question now before the House, the question which the Government had to consider, and on which they had to decide, was—peace or war? Disguise or overshadow it how you will, that question was at the bottom of all our deliberations; and I have a right to require that the negotiations should be considered with reference to that question; and to the decision, which, be it right or wrong, we early adopted upon that question—the decision that war was to be avoided, and peace, if possible, maintained.

How can we discuss with fairness, I might say with common sense, any transactions, unless in reference to the object which was in the view of those who carried them on? I repeat it, whether gentlemen in this House do or do not consider the question to be one of peace or war, the Ministers could not take a single step in the late negotiations, till they had well weighed that question; till they had determined what direction ought to be given to those negotiations, so far as that question was concerned. We determined that it was our duty, in the first instance, to endeavour to preserve peace if possible for all the world: next, to endeavour to preserve peace between the nations whose pacific relations appeared most particularly exposed to hazard; and failing in this, to preserve at all events peace for this country; but a peace consistent with the good faith, the interests, and the honour of the nation.

I am far from intending to assert that our decision in this respect is not a fit subject of examination. Undoubtedly the conduct of the Government is liable to a twofold trial. First, was the object of Ministers a right object? Secondly, did they pursue it in a right way? The first of these questions, whether Ministers did right in aiming at the preservation of peace, I postpone. I will return to the consideration of it hereafter. My first inquiry is as to the merits or demerits of the negotiations: and, in order to enter into that inquiry, I must set out with assuming, for the time, that peace is the object which we ought to have pursued.

With this assumption, I proceed to examine, whether the papers on the table show that the best means were employed for attaining the given object? If the object was unfit, there is an end of any discussion as to the negotiations;—they must necessarily be wrong from the beginning to the end; it is only in reference to their fitness for the end proposed, that the papers themselves can be matter worthy of discussion.

In reviewing, then, the course of these negotiations, as directed to maintain, first, the peace of Europe; secondly, the peace between France and Spain; and lastly, peace for this country, they divide themselves naturally into three heads:—first, the negotiations at Verona; secondly, those with France; and thirdly, those with Spain. Of each of these in their order.

I say, emphatically, in their order; because there can be no greater fallacy than that which has pervaded the arguments of many honourable gentlemen, who have taken up expressions used in one stage of these negotiations, and applied them to another. An honourable baronet (Sir F. Burdett), for instance, who addressed the House last night, employed—or, I should rather say, adopted—a fallacy of this sort, with respect to an expression of mine in the extract of a dispatch to the Duke of Wellington, which stands second in the first series of papers. It is but just to the honourable baronet to admit that his observation was adopted, not original; because, in a speech eminent for its ability and for its fairness of reasoning (however I may disagree both with its principles and its conclusions), this, which he condescended to borrow, was in truth the only very weak and ill-reasoned part. By my dispatch of the 27th of September the Duke of Wellington was instructed to declare, that 'to any interference by force or menace on the part of the allies against Spain, come what may, His Majesty will not be party'. Upon this the honourable baronet, borrowing, as I have said, the remark itself, and borrowing also the air of astonishment, which, as I am informed, was assumed by the noble proprietor of the remark, in another place, exclaimed '"Come what may"! What is the meaning of this ambiguous menace, this mighty phrase, "that thunders in the index"?—"Come what may!" Surely a denunciation of war is to follow. But no—no such thing. Only—come what may—"His Majesty will be no party to such proceedings." Was ever such a bathos! Such a specimen of sinking in policy? "Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu?"'

Undoubtedly, Sir, if the honourable baronet could show that this declaration was applicable to the whole course of the negotiations, or to a more advanced stage of them, there would be something in the remark, and in the inference which he wished to be drawn from it. But, before the declaration is condemned as utterly feeble and inconclusive, let us consider what was the question to which it was intended as an answer. That question, Sir, was not as to what England would do in a war between France and Spain, but as to what part she would take if, in the Congress at Verona, a determination should be avowed by the allies to interfere forcibly in the affairs of Spain. What then was the meaning of the answer to that proposition,—that, 'come what might, His Majesty would be no party to such a project'? Why, plainly that His Majesty would not concur in such a determination, even though a difference with his allies, even though the dissolution of the alliance, should be the consequence of his refusal. The answer, therefore, was exactly adapted to the question. This specimen of the bathos, this instance of perfection in the art of sinking, as it has been described to be, had its effect; and the Congress separated without determining in favour of any joint operation of a hostile character against Spain.

Sir, it is as true in politics as in mechanics, that the test of skill and of success is to achieve the greatest purpose with the least power. If, then, it be found that, by this little intimation, we gained the object that we sought for, where was the necessity for greater flourish or greater pomp of words? An idle waste of effort would only have risked the loss of the object which by temperance we gained!

But where is the testimony in favour of the effect which this intimation produced? I have it, both written and oral. My first witness is the Duke Mathieu de Montmorency, who states, in his official note of the 26th of December, that the measures conceived and proposed at Verona 'would, have been completely successful, if England had thought herself at liberty to concur in them'. Such was the opinion entertained, by the Plenipotentiary of France of the failure at Verona, and of the cause of that failure. What was the opinion of Spain? My voucher for that opinion is the dispatch from Sir W. A'Court, of the 7th of January; in which he describes the comfort and relief that were felt by the Spanish Government, when they learnt that the Congress at Verona had broken up with no other result than the bruta fulmina of the three dispatches from the courts in alliance with France. The third witness whom I produce, and not the least important, because an unwilling and most unexpected, and in this case surely a most unsuspected witness, is the honourable member for Westminster (Mr. Hobhouse), who seems to have had particular sources of information as to what was passing at the Congress. According to the antechamber reports which were furnished to the honourable member (and which, though not always the most authentic, were in this instance tolerably correct), it appears that there was to be no joint declaration against Spain; and it was, it seems, generally understood at Verona, that the instructions given to His Majesty's Plenipotentiary, by the Liberal—I beg pardon, to be quite accurate I am afraid I must say, the Radical—Foreign Minister of England, were the cause. Now the essence of those instructions was comprised in that little sentence, which has been so much criticized for meagreness and insufficiency.

In this case, then, the English Government is impeached, not for failure, but for success; and the honourable baronet, with taste not his own, has expressed himself dissatisfied with that success, only because the machinery employed to produce it did not make noise enough in its operation.

I contend, Sir, that whatever might grow out of a separate conflict between Spain and France (though matter for grave consideration) was less to be dreaded, than that all the Great Powers of the Continent should have been arrayed together against Spain; and that although the first object, in point of importance, indeed, was to keep the peace altogether—to prevent any war against Spain—the first, in point of time, was to prevent a general war; to change the question from a question between the allies on one side and Spain on the other, to a question between nation and nation. This, whatever the result might be, would reduce the quarrel to the size of ordinary events, and bring it within the scope of ordinary diplomacy. The immediate object of England, therefore, was to hinder the impress of a joint character from being affixed to the war—if war there must be—with Spain; to take care that the war should not grow out of an assumed jurisdiction of the Congress; to keep within reasonable bounds that predominating areopagitical spirit, which the memorandum of the British Cabinet of May, 1820, describes as 'beyond the sphere of the original conception, and understood principles of the alliance',—'an alliance never intended as a union for the government of the world, or for the superintendence of the internal affairs of other States.' And this, I say, was accomplished.

With respect to Verona, then, what remains of accusation against the Government? It has been charged, not so much that the object of the Government was amiss, as that the negotiations were conducted in too low a tone. But the case was obviously one in which a high tone might have frustrated the object. I beg, then, of the House, before they proceed to adopt an Address which exhibits more of the ingenuity of philologists than of the policy of statesmen—before they found a censure of the Government for its conduct in negotiations of transcendent practical importance, upon refinements of grammatical nicety—I beg that they will at least except from the proposed censure, the transactions at Verona, where I think I have shown that a tone of reproach and invective was unnecessary, and, therefore, would have been misplaced.

Among those who have made unjust and unreasonable objections to the tone of our representations at Verona, I should be grieved to include the honourable member for Bramber (Mr. Wilberforce), with whose mode of thinking I am too well acquainted not to be aware that his observations are founded on other and higher motives than those of political controversy. My honourable friend, through a long and amiable life, has mixed in the business of the world without being stained by its contaminations: and he, in consequence, is apt to place—I will not say too high, but higher, I am afraid, than the ways of the world will admit, the standard of political morality. I fear my honourable friend is not aware how difficult it is to apply to politics those pure, abstract principles which are indispensable to the excellence of private ethics. Had we employed in the negotiations that serious moral strain which he might have been more inclined to approve, many of the gentlemen opposed to me would, I doubt not, have complained, that we had taken a leaf from the book of the Holy Alliance itself; that we had framed in their own language a canting protest against their purposes, not in the spirit of sincere dissent, but the better to cover our connivance. My honourable friend, I admit, would not have been of the number of those who would so have accused us: but he may be assured that he would have been wholly disappointed in the practical result of our didactic reprehensions. In truth, the principle of non-interference is one on which we were already irrecoverably at variance in opinion with the allies; it was no longer debatable ground. On the one hand, the alliance upholds the doctrine of an European police; this country, on the other hand, as appears from the memorandum already quoted, protests against that doctrine. The question is, in fact, settled, as many questions are, by each party retaining its own opinions; and the points reserved for debate are points only of practical application. To such a point it was that we directed our efforts at Verona.

There are those, however, who think that with a view of conciliating the Continental Powers, and of winning them away the more readily from their purposes, we should have addressed them as tyrants and despots—tramplers on the rights and liberties of mankind. This experiment would, to say the least of it, be a very singular one in diplomacy. It may be possible, though I think not very probable, that the allies would have borne such an address with patience; that they would have retorted only with the 'whispering humbleness' of Shylock in the play, and said,—

Fair Sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You called me—dog; and, for these courtesies,

'we are ready to comply with whatever you desire.' This, I say, may be possible. But I confess I would rather make such an experiment, when the issue of it was matter of more indifference. Till then, I shall be loath to employ towards our allies a language, to which if they yielded, we should ourselves despise them. I doubt whether it is wise, even in this House, to indulge in such a strain of rhetoric; to call 'wretches' and 'barbarians', and a hundred other hard names, Powers with whom, after all, if the map of Europe cannot be altogether cancelled, we must, even according to the admission of the most anti-continental politicians, maintain some international intercourse. I doubt whether these sallies of raillery—these flowers of Billingsgate—are calculated to soothe, any more than to adorn; whether, on some occasion or other, we may not find that those on whom they are lavished have not been utterly unsusceptible of feelings of irritation and resentment:

Medio de fonte leporum
Surget amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.

But be the language of good sense or good taste in this House what it may, clear I am that, in diplomatic correspondence, no Minister would be justified in risking the friendship of foreign countries, and the peace of his own, by coarse reproach and galling invective; and that even while we are pleading for the independence of nations, it is expedient to respect the independence of those with whom we plead. We differ widely from our Continental allies on one great principle, it is true: nor do we, nor ought we to disguise that difference; nor to omit any occasion of practically upholding our own opinion. But every consideration, whether of policy or of justice, combines with the recollection of the counsels which we have shared, and of the deeds which we have achieved in concert and companionship, to induce us to argue our differences of opinion, however freely, with temper; and to enforce them, however firmly, without insult.

Before I quit Verona, there are other detached objections which have been urged against our connexion with the Congress, of which it may be proper to take notice. It has been asked why we sent a Plenipotentiary to the Congress at all. It may, perhaps, be right here to observe, that it was not originally intended to send the British Plenipotentiary to Verona. The Congress at Verona was originally convened solely for the consideration of the affairs of Italy, with which, the House is aware, England had declined to interfere two years before. England was, therefore, not to participate in those proceedings; and all that required her participation was to be arranged in a previous Congress at Vienna. But circumstances had delayed the Duke of Wellington's departure from England, so that he did not reach Vienna till many weeks after the time appointed. The Sovereigns had waited to the last hour consistent with their Italian arrangements. The option was given to our Plenipotentiary to meet them on their return to Vienna; but it was thought, upon the whole, more convenient to avoid further delay; and the Duke of Wellington therefore proceeded to Verona.

Foremost among the objects intended to be discussed at Vienna was the impending danger of hostilities between Russia and the Porte. I have no hesitation in saying that, when I accepted the seals of office, that was the object to which the anxiety of the British Government was principally directed. The negotiations at Constantinople had been carried on through the British Ambassador. So completely had this business been placed in the hands of Lord Strangford, that it was thought necessary to summon him to Vienna. Undoubtedly it might be presumed, from facts which were of public notoriety, that the affairs of Spain could not altogether escape the notice of the assembled Sovereigns and Ministers; but the bulk of the instructions which had been prepared for the Duke of Wellington related to the disputes between Russia and the Porte: and how little the British Government expected that so prominent a station would be assigned to the affairs of Spain, may be inferred from the Duke of Wellington's finding it necessary to write from Paris for specific instructions on that subject.

But it is said that Spain ought to have been invited to send a
Plenipotentiary to the Congress.

So far as Great Britain is concerned, I answer—in the first place, as we did not wish the affairs of Spain to be brought into discussion at all, we could not take or suggest a preliminary step which would have seemed to recognize the necessity of such a discussion. In the next place, if Spain had been invited, the answer to that invitation might have produced a contrary effect to that which we aimed at producing. Spain must either have sent a Plenipotentiary, or have refused to do so. The refusal would not have failed to be taken by the allies as a proof of the duresse of the King of Spain. The sending one, if sent (as he must have been) jointly by the King of Spain and the Cortes, would at once have raised the whole question of the legitimacy of the existing Government of Spain, and would, almost to a certainty, have led to a joint declaration from the alliance, such as it was our special object to avoid.

But was there anything in the general conduct of Great Britain at Verona, which lowered, as has been asserted, the character of England? Nothing like it. Our Ambassador at Constantinople returned from Verona to his post, with full powers from Russia to treat on her behalf with the Turkish Government; from which Government, on the other hand, he enjoys as full confidence as perhaps any Power ever gave to one of its own Ambassadors. Such is the manifest decay of our authority, so fallen in the eyes of all mankind is the character of this country, that two of the greatest States of the world are content to arrange their differences through a British Minister, from reliance on British influence, and from confidence in British equity and British wisdom!

Such then was the issue of the Congress, as to the question between
Russia and the Porte; the question (I beg it to be remembered) upon
which we expected to be principally if not entirely engaged at that
Congress, if it had been held (as was intended when the Duke of
Wellington left London) at Vienna.

As to Italy, I have already said, it was distinctly understood that we had resolved to take no share in the discussions. But it is almost needless to add that the evacuation of Naples and of Piedmont was a measure with respect to which, though the Plenipotentiary of Great Britain was not entitled to give or to withhold the concurrence of his Government, he could not but signify its cordial approbation.

The result of the Congress as to Spain was simply the discontinuance of diplomatic intercourse with that Power, on the part of Austria, Russia, and Prussia; a step neither necessarily nor probably leading to war; perhaps (in some views) rather diminishing the risk of it; a step which had been taken by the same monarchies towards Portugal two years before, without leading to any ulterior consequences. The concluding expression of the Duke of Wellington's last note at Verona, in which he states that all that Great Britain could do was to 'endeavour to allay irritation at Madrid', describes all that in effect was necessary to be done there, after the Ministers of the allied Powers should be withdrawn: and the House have seen in Sir W. A'Court's dispatches how scrupulously the Duke of Wellington's promise was fulfilled by the representations of our Minister at Madrid. They have seen, too, how insignificant the result of the Congress of Verona was considered at Madrid, in comparison with what had been apprehended.

The result of the Congress as to France was a promise of countenance and support from the allies in three specified hypothetical cases:—(1) of an attack made by Spain on France; (2) of any outrage on the person of the King or Royal Family of Spain; (3) of any attempt to change the dynasty of that kingdom. Any unforeseen case, if any such should arise, was to be the subject of new deliberation, either between Court and Court, or in the conferences of their Ministers at Paris.

It is unnecessary now to argue, whether the cases specified are cases which would justify interference. It is sufficient for the present argument, that no one of these cases has occurred. France is therefore not at war on a case foreseen and provided for at Verona: and so far as I know, there has not occurred, since the Congress of Verona any new case to which the assistance of the allies can be considered as pledged; or which has, in fact, been made the subject of deliberation among the Ministers of the several Courts who were members of the Congress.

We quitted Verona, therefore, with the satisfaction of having prevented any corporate act of force or menace, on the part of the alliance, against Spain; with the knowledge of the three cases on which alone France would be entitled to claim the support of her Continental allies, in a conflict with Spain; and with the certainty that in any other case we should have to deal with France alone, in any interposition which we might offer for averting, or for terminating, hostilities.

From Verona we now come, with our Plenipotentiary, to Paris.

I have admitted on a former occasion, and I am perfectly prepared to repeat the admission, that, after the dissolution of the Congress of Verona, we might, if we had so pleased, have withdrawn ourselves altogether from any communication with France upon the subject of her Spanish quarrel; that, having succeeded in preventing a joint operation against Spain, we might have rested satisfied with that success, and trusted, for the rest, to the reflections of France herself on the hazards of the project in her contemplation. Nay, I will own that we did hesitate, whether we should not adopt this more selfish and cautious policy. But there were circumstances attending the return of the Duke of Wellington to Paris, which directed our decision another way. In the first place, we found, on the Duke of Wellington's arrival in that capital, that M. de Vilèlle had sent back to Verona the drafts of the dispatches of the three Continental allies to their Ministers at Madrid, which M. de Montmorency had brought with him from the Congress;—had sent them back for reconsideration; —whether with a view to obtain a change in their context, or to prevent their being forwarded to their destination at all, did not appear: but, be that as it might, the reference itself was a proof of vacillation, if not of change, in the French counsels.

In the second place, it was notorious that a change was likely to take place in the Cabinet of the Tuileries, which did in fact take place shortly afterwards, by the retirement of M. de Montmorency: and M. de Montmorency was as notoriously the adviser of war against Spain.

In the third place, it was precisely at the time of the Duke of Wellington's return to Paris, that we received a direct and pressing overture from the Spanish Government, which placed us in the alternative of either affording our good offices to Spain, or of refusing them.

This last consideration would perhaps alone have been decisive; but when it was coupled with the others which I have stated, and with the hopes of doing good which they inspired, I think it will be conceded to me that we should have incurred a fearful responsibility, if we had not consented to make the effort, which we did make, to effect an adjustment between France and Spain, through our mediation.

Add to this, that the question which we had now to discuss with France was a totally new question. It was no longer a question as to that general right of interference, which we had disclaimed and denied—disclaimed for ourselves, and denied for others,—in the conferences at Verona. France knew that upon that question our opinion was formed, and was unalterable. Our mediation therefore, if accepted by France, set out with the plain and admitted implication, that the discussion must turn, not on the general principle, but upon a case of exception to be made out by France, showing, to our satisfaction, wherein Spain had offended and aggrieved her.

It has been observed, as if it were an inconsistency, that at Verona a discouraging answer had been given, by our Plenipotentiary to a hint that it might, perhaps, be advisable for us to offer our mediation with Spain; but that no sooner had the Duke of Wellington arrived at Paris, than he was instructed to offer that mediation. Undoubtedly this is true: and the difference is one which flows out of, and verifies, the entire course of our policy at Verona. We declined mediating between Spain and an alliance assuming to itself that character of general superintendence of the concerns of nations. But a negotiation between kingdom and kingdom, in the old, intelligible, accustomed, European form, was precisely the issue to which we were desirous of bringing the dispute between France and Spain. We eagerly grasped at this chance of preserving peace; and the more eagerly because, as I have before said, we received, at that precise moment, the application from Spain for our good offices.

But France refused our offered mediation: and it has been represented by some gentlemen, that the refusal of our mediation by France was an affront which we ought to have resented. Sir, speaking not of this particular instance only, but generally of the policy of nations, I contend, without fear of contradiction, that the refusal of a mediation is no affront; and that, after the refusal of mediation, to accept or to tender good offices is no humiliation. I beg leave to cite an authority on such points, which, I think, will not be disputed. Martens, in the dissertation which is prefixed to his collection of treaties, distinguishing between mediation and good offices, lays it down expressly, that a nation may accept the good offices of another after rejecting her mediation. The following is the passage to which I refer:

'Amicable negotiations may take place, either between the Powers themselves between whom a dispute has arisen, or jointly with a third Power. The part to be taken by the latter, for the purpose of ending the dispute, differs essentially according to one or other of two cases; whether the Power, in the first place, merely interposes its good offices to bring about an agreement; or, secondly, is chosen by the two parties, to act as a mediator between them.' And he adds: 'mediation differs essentially from good offices; a State may accept the latter, at the same time that it rejects mediation.'

If there were any affront indeed in this case, it was an affront received equally from both parties; for Spain also declined our mediation, after having solicited our good offices, and solicited again our good offices, after declining our mediation. Nor is the distinction, however apparently technical, so void of reason as it may at first sight appear. There did not exist between France and Spain that corporeal, that material, that external ground of dispute, on which a mediation could operate. The offence, on the side of each party, was an offence rankling in the minds of each, from a long course of irritating discussions; it was to be allayed rather by appeal to the good sense of the parties, than by reference to any tangible object. To illustrate this: suppose, for example, that France had in time of peace possessed herself, by a coup de main, of Minorca; or suppose any unsettled pecuniary claims, on one side or the other, or any litigation with respect to territory; a mediator might be called in. In the first case to recommend restitution, in the others to estimate the amount of claim, or to adjust the terms of compromise. There would, in either of these cases, be a tangible object for mediation. But where the difference was not external; where it arose from irritated feelings, from vague and perhaps exaggerated apprehensions, from charges not proved, nor perhaps capable of proof, on either side, in such cases each party felt that there was nothing definite and precise which either could submit to the decision of a judge, or to the discretion of an arbitrator; though each might at the same time feel that the good offices of a third party, friendly to both, would be well employed to soothe exasperation, to suggest concession, and, without probing too deeply the merits of the dispute, to exhort to mutual forbearance and oblivion. The difference is perfectly intelligible; and, in fact, on the want of a due appreciation of the nature of that difference, turns much of the objection which has been raised against our having suggested concession to Spain.

Our mediation then, as I have said, was refused by Spain as well as by France; but before it was offered to France, our good offices had been asked by Spain. They were asked in the dispatch of M. San Miguel, which has been quoted with so much praise, a praise in which I have no indisposition to concur. I agree in admiring that paper for its candour, manliness, and simplicity. But the honourable member for Westminster has misunderstood the early part of it. He has quoted it, as if it complained of some want of kindness on the part of the British Government towards Spain. The complaint was quite of another sort. It complained of want of communication from this Government, of what was passing at Verona. The substance of this complaint was true; but in that want of communication there was no want of kindness. The date of M. San Miguel's dispatch is the 15th of November; the Congress did not close till the 29th. It is true that I declined making any communication to Spain, of the transactions which were passing at Verona, whilst the Congress was still sitting. I appeal to any man of honour, whether it would not have been ungenerous to our allies to make such a communication, so long as we entertained the smallest hope that the result of the Congress might not be hostile to Spain; and whether, considering the peculiar situation in which we were placed at that time, by the negotiation which we were carrying on at Madrid for the adjustment of our claims upon the Spanish Government, such a communication would not have been liable to the suspicion that we were courting favour with Spain, at the expense of our allies, for our own separate objects? We might, to be sure, have said to her, 'You complain of our reserve, but you don't know how stoutly we are righting your battles at Verona.' But, Sir, I did hope that she never would have occasion to know that such battles had been fought for her. She never should have known it, if the negotiations had turned out favourably. When the result proved unfavourable, I immediately made a full disclosure of what had passed; and with that disclosure, it is unnecessary to say, the Spanish Government were, so far as Great Britain was concerned, entirely satisfied. The expressions of that satisfaction are scattered through Sir W. A'Court's reports of M. San Miguel's subsequent conversations; and are to be found particularly in M. San Miguel's note to Sir William A'Court of the 12th of January.

In the subsequent part of the dispatch of M. San Miguel, of the 15th of November (which we are now considering), that Minister defines the course which he wishes Great Britain to pursue; and I desire to be judged and justified in the eyes of the warmest advocate for Spain, by no other rules than those laid down in that dispatch.

'The acts to winch I allude', says M. San Miguel, 'would in no wise compromise the most strictly conceived system of neutrality. Good offices, counsels, the reflections of one friend in favour of another, do not place a nation in concert of attack or defence with another, do not expose it to the enmity of the opposite party, even if they do not deserve its gratitude; they are not (in a word) effective aid, troops, arms, subsidies, which augment the force of one of the contending parties. It is of reason only that we are speaking; and it is with the pen of conciliation that a Power, situated like Great Britain, might support Spain, without exposing herself to take part in a war, which she may perhaps prevent, with general utility.' Again: 'England might act in this manner: being able, ought she so to act? and if she ought, has she acted so? In the wise, just, and generous views of the Government of St. James's, no other answer can exist than the affirmative. Why then does she not notify to Spain what has been done, and what it is proposed to do in that mediatory sense (en aquel sentido mediador)? Are there weighty inconveniences which enjoin discretion, which show the necessity of secrecy? They do not appear to an ordinary penetration.'

I have already told the House why I had not made such a notification; I have told them also that as soon as the restraint of honour was removed, I did make it; and that the Spanish Government was perfectly satisfied with it. And with respect to the part which I have just quoted of the dispatch of M. San Miguel, that in which he solicits our good offices, and points out the mode in which they are to be applied, I am sure the House will see that we scrupulously followed his suggestions.

Most true it is, and lamentable as true, that our representations to France were not successful. The honourable member for Westminster attributes our failure to the intrigues of Russia; and has told us of a bet made by the Russian Ambassador in a coffee-house at Paris, that he would force France into a war with Spain.

[Mr. Hobhouse disclaimed this version of his words. He had put it as a conjecture.]

I assure the honourable gentleman that I understood him to state it as a fact: but if it was only conjecture, it is of a piece with, the whole of the Address which he supports; every paragraph of which teems with guesses and suppositions, equally groundless.

The honourable member for Bridgenorth (Mr. Whitmore) has given a more correct opinion of the cause of the war. I believe, with him, that the war was forced on the French Government by the violence of a political party in France.

I believe that at one time the French Government hoped to avert it; and that, up to the latest period, some members of that Cabinet would gladly have availed themselves of the smallest loophole through which the Spanish Government would have enabled them to find their retreat. But we, forsooth, are condemned as dupes, because our opponents gratuitously ascribe to France one settled, systematic, and invariable line of policy; because it is assumed that, from the beginning, France had but one purpose in view; and that she merely amused the British Cabinet from time to time with pretences, which we ought to have had the sagacity to detect. If so, the French Government made singular sacrifices to appearance. M. de Montmorency was sent to Verona; he negotiated with the allies; he brought home a result so satisfactory to France, that he was made a duke for his services. He had enjoyed his new title but a few days when he quitted his office. On this occasion I admit that I was a dupe—I believe all the world were dupes with me, for all understood this change of Ministers to be indicative of a change in the counsels of the French Cabinet, a change from war to peace. For eight-and-forty hours I certainly was under that delusion; but I soon found that it was only a change, not of the question of war, but of the character of that question; a change—as it was somewhat quaintly termed—from European to French. The Duke M. de Montmorency. finding himself unable to carry into effect the system of policy which he had engaged, at the Congress, to support in the Cabinet at Paris, in order to testify the sincerity of his engagement, promptly and most honourably resigned. But this event, honourable as it is to the Duke M. de Montmorency, completely disproves the charge of dupery brought against us. That man is not a dupe, who, not foreseeing the vacillations of others, is not prepared to meet them; but he who is misled by false pretences, put forward for the purpose of misleading him. Before a man can be said to be duped, there must have been some settled purpose concealed from him, and not discovered by him; but here there was a variation of purpose; a variation, too, which, so far from considering it then, or now, as an evil, we then hailed and still consider as a good. It was no dupery on our part to acquiesce in a change of counsel on the part of the French Cabinet, which proved the result of the Congress at Verona to be such as I have described it, by giving to the quarrel with Spain the character of a French quarrel.

If gentlemen will read over the correspondence about our offer of mediation, with this key, they will understand exactly the meaning of the difference of tone between the Duke M. de Montmorency and M. de Chateaubriand: they will observe that when I first described the question respecting Spain as a French question, the Duke de Montmorency loudly maintained it to be a question toute européenne; but that M. de Chateaubriand, upon my repeating the same description in the sequel of that correspondence, admitted it to be a question at once and equally toute française, et toute européenne: an explanation the exact meaning of which I acknowledge I do not precisely understand; but which, if it does not distinctly admit the definition of a, question française, seems at least to negative M. de Montmorency's definition of a question TOUTE européenne.

In thus unavoidably introducing the names of the French Ministers, I beg I may be understood to speak of them with respect and esteem. Of M. de Montmorency I have already said that, in voluntarily relinquishing his office, he made an honourable sacrifice to the sincerity of his opinions, and to the force of obligations which he had undertaken but could not fulfil. As to M. de Chateaubriand, with whom I have the honour of a personal acquaintance, I admire, his talents and his genius; I believe him to be a man of an upright mind, of untainted honour, and most capable of discharging adequately the high functions of the station which he fills. Whatever I may think of the political conduct of the French Government in the present war, I think this tribute justly due to the individual character of M. de Chateaubriand. I think it further due to him in fairness to correct a misrepresentation to which I have, however innocently, exposed him. From a dispatch of Sir W. A'Court, which has been laid upon the table of the House, it appears as if M. de Chateaubriand had spoken of the failure of the mission of Lord F. Somerset as of an event which had actually happened, at a time when that nobleman had not even reached Madrid. I have recently received a corrected copy of that dispatch, in which the tense employed in speaking of Lord F. Somerset's mission is not past but future; and the failure of that mission is only anticipated, not announced as having occurred.

The dispatch was sent in cipher to M. Lagarde (from whom Sir W. A'Court received his copy of it), and nothing is more natural in such cases than a mistake in the inflection of a verb.

It is also just to the French Minister for Foreign Affairs, to allude (although it is rather out of place in this argument) to another circumstance, of which I yesterday received an explanation. A strong feeling has been excited in this country by the reported capture of a rich Spanish prize in the West Indies by a French ship of war. If the French captain had acted under orders, most unquestionably those orders must have been given at a time when the French Government was most warm in its professions of a desire to maintain peace. If this had been the case, it might still perhaps be doubtful whether this country ought to be the first to complain. Formal declarations of war, anterior to warlike acts, have been for some time growing into disuse in Europe. The war of 1756, and the Spanish war in 1804, both, it must be admitted, commenced with premature capture and anticipated hostilities on the part of Great Britain. But—be that as it may—I wrote to Sir C. Stuart, as soon as the intelligence reached this country, desiring him to require an explanation of the affair; the reply, as I have said, arrived yesterday by a telegraphic communication from Paris. It runs thus:—'Paris, April 28, 1823. We have not received anything official as to the prize made by the Jean Bart. This vessel had no instructions to make any such capture. If this capture has really been made, there must have been some particular circumstances which were the cause of it. In any case, the French Government will see justice done.' I have thought it right to clear up this transaction, and to show the promptitude of the French Government in giving the required explanation, I now return to the more immediate subject of discussion, and pass from France to Spain.

It has been maintained that it was an insult to the Spanish Government to ask them, as we did, for assurances of the safety of the Royal Family of Spain. Have I not already accounted for that suggestion? I have shown that one of the causes of war, prospectively agreed upon at Verona, was any act of personal violence to the King of Spain or his family. I endeavoured, therefore, to obtain such assurances from Spain as should remove the apprehension of any such outrage; not because the British Cabinet thought those assurances necessary, but because it might be of the greatest advantage to the cause of Spain, that we should be able to proclaim our conviction, that upon this point there was nothing to apprehend; that we should thus possess the means of proving to France that she had no case, arising out of the conferences of Verona, to justify a war. Such assurances Spain might have refused—she would have refused them—to France. To us she might, she did give them, without lowering her dignity.

And here I cannot help referring, with some pain, to a speech delivered by an honourable and learned friend of mine (Sir J. Mackintosh), last night, in which he dwelt upon this subject in a manner totally unlike himself. He pronounced a high-flown eulogy upon M. Arguelles; he envied him, he said, for many things, but he envied him most for the magnanimity which he had shown in sparing his Sovereign.

[Sir J. Mackintosh said that he had only used the word 'sparing', as sparing the delicacy, not the life of the King.]

I am glad to have occasioned this explanation. I have no doubt that my honourable and learned friend must have intended so to express himself, for I am sure that he must agree with me in thinking that nothing could be more pernicious than to familiarize the world with the contemplation of events so calamitous. I am sure that my honourable and learned friend would not be forward to anticipate for the people of Spain an outrage so alien to their character.

Great Britain asked these assurances, then, without offence; forasmuch as she asked them—not for herself—not because she entertained the slightest suspicion of the supposed danger, but because that danger constituted one of those hypothetical cases on which alone France could claim eventual support from the allies; and because she wished to be able to satisfy France that she was not likely to have such a justification.

In the same spirit, and with the like purpose, the British Cabinet proposed to Spain to do that, without which not only the disposition but perhaps the power was wanting on the part of the French Government, to recede from the menacing position which it had somewhat precipitately occupied.

And this brings me to the point on which the longest and fiercest battle has been fought against us—the suggestion to Spain of the expediency of modifying her Constitution. As to this point, I should be perfectly contented, Sir, to rest the justification of Ministers upon the argument stated the night before last by a noble young friend of mine (Lord Francis Leveson Gower), in a speech which, both from what it promised and what it performed, was heard with delight by the House. 'If Ministers', my noble friend observed, 'had refused to offer such suggestions, and if, being called to account for that refusal, they had rested their defence on the ground of delicacy to Spain, would they not have been taunted with something like these observations? "What! had you not among you a member of your Government, sitting at the same council board, a man whom you ought to have considered as an instrument furnished by Providence, at once to give efficacy to your advice, and to spare the delicacy of the Spanish nation? Why did you not employ the Duke of Wellington for this purpose? Did you forget the services which he had rendered to Spain, or did you imagine that Spain had forgotten them? Might not any advice, however unpalatable, have been offered by such a benefactor, without liability to offence or misconstruction? Why did you neglect so happy an opportunity, and leave unemployed so fit an agent? Oh! blind to the interests of the Spanish people! Oh! insensible to the feelings of human nature!"' Such an argument would have been unanswerable; and, however the intervention of Great Britain has failed, I would much rather have to defend myself against the charge of having tendered advice officiously, than against that of having stupidly neglected to employ the means which the possession of such a man as the Duke of Wellington put into the hands of the Government, for the salvation of a nation which he had already once rescued from destruction.

With respect to the memorandum of the noble duke, which has been so much the subject of cavil, it is the offspring of a manly mind, pouring out its honest opinions with an earnestness characteristic of sincerity, and with a zeal too warm to stand upon nice and scrupulous expression. I am sure that it contains nothing but what the noble duke really thought. I am sure that what he thought at the time of writing it, he would still maintain; and what he thinks and maintains regarding Spain, must, I should imagine, be received with respect and confidence by all who do not believe themselves to be better qualified to judge of Spain than he is. Whatever may be thought of the Duke of Wellington's suggestions here, confident I am that there is not an individual in Spain, to whom this paper was communicated, who took it as an offence, or who did not do full justice to the motives of the adviser, whatever they might think of the immediate practicability of his advice. Would to God that some part of it, at least, had been accepted! I admit the point of honour, I respect those who have acted upon it, I do not blame the Spaniards that they refused to make any sacrifice to temporary necessity; but still—still I lament the result of that refusal. Of this I am quite sure, that even if the Spaniards were justified in objecting to concede, it would have been a most romantic point of honour which should have induced Great Britain to abstain from recommending concession.

It is said that everything was required of Spain. and nothing of France. I utterly deny it. I have already described the relative situation of the two countries. I will repeat, though the term has been so much criticized, that they had no external point of difference. France said to Spain, 'Your revolution disquiets me:' and Spain replied to France, 'Your army of observation disquiets me.' There were but two remedies to this state of things—war or concession: and why was England fastidiously, and (as I think) most mistakenly, to say, 'Our notions of non-interference are so strict that we cannot advise you even for your safety: though whatever concession you may make may probably be met by corresponding concession on the part of France'? Undoubtedly the withdrawing of the army of observation would have been, if not purely, yet in a great degree, an internal measure on the part of France; and one which, though I will not assert it to be precisely equivalent with the alteration by Spain of any fault in her Constitution; yet, considering its immediate practical advantage to Spain, would not, I think, have been too dearly purchased by such an alteration. That France was called upon to make the corresponding concession, appears as well from the memorandum of the Duke of Wellington, as from the dispatches of Sir Charles Stuart, and from mine; and this concession was admitted by M. San Miguel to be the object which Spain most desired. England saw that war must be the inevitable consequence of the existing state of things between the two kingdoms; and, if something were yielded on the one side, it would undoubtedly have been for England to insist upon a countervailing sacrifice on the other.

The propriety of maintaining the army of observation depended wholly upon the truth of the allegations on which France justified its continuance. I do not at all mean to say that the truth of those allegations was to be taken for granted. But what I do mean to say is, that it was not the business of the British Government to go into a trial and examine evidence, to ascertain the foundation of the conflicting allegations on either side. It was clear that nothing but some modification of the Spanish Constitution could avert the calamity of war; and in applying the means in our hands to that object (an object interesting not to Spain only, but to England, and to Europe), it was not our business to take up the cause of either party, and to state it with the zeal and with the aggravations of an advocate; but rather to endeavour to reduce the demands of each within such limits as might afford a reasonable hope of mutual conciliation.

Grant, even, that the justice was wholly on the side of Spain; still, in entreating the Spanish Ministers, with a view to peace, to abate a little of their just pretensions, the British Government did not go beyond the duty which the law of nations prescribes. No, Sir, it was our duty to induce Spain to relax something of her positive right, for a purpose so essential to her own interests and to those of the world. Upon this point let me fortify myself once more, by reference to the acknowledged law of nations. 'The duty of a mediator', says Vattel, 'is to favour well-founded claims, and to effect the restoration to each party of what belongs to him; but he ought not scrupulously to insist on rigid justice. He is a conciliator, not a judge: his business is to procure peace: and he ought to induce him who has right on his side, to relax something of his pretensions, if necessary, with a view to so great a blessing.'

The conduct of the British Government is thus fortified by an authority, not interested, not partial, not special in its application, but universal, untinctured by favour, uninfluenced by the circumstances of any particular case, and applicable to the general concerns and dealings of mankind. Is it not plain, then, that we have been guilty of no violation of duty towards the weaker party? Our duty, Sir, was discharged not only without any unfriendly bias against Spain, but with tenderness, with preference, with partiality in her favour; and, while I respect (as I have already said) the honourable obstinacy of the Spanish character, so deeply am I impressed with the desirableness of peace for Spain, that, should the opportunity recur, I would again, without scruple, tender the same advice to her Government. The point of honour was in truth rather individual than national; but the safety put to hazard was assuredly that of the whole nation. Look at the state of Spain, and consider whether the filling up a blank in the scheme of her representative Constitution with an amount, more or less high, of qualification for the members of the Cortes—whether the promising to consider hereafter of some modifications in other questionable points—was too much to be conceded, if by such a sacrifice peace could have been preserved! If we had declined to interfere on such grounds of punctilio, would not the very passage which I have now read from Vattel, as our vindication, have been brought against us with justice as a charge?

I regret, deeply regret, for the sake of Spain, that our efforts failed. I must fairly add, that I regret it for the sake of France also. Convinced as I may be of the injustice of the course pursued by the French Government, I cannot shut my eyes to its impolicy. I cannot lose sight of the gallant character and mighty resources of the French nation, of the central situation of France, and of the weight which she ought to preserve in the scale of Europe; I cannot be insensible to the dangers to which she is exposing herself; nor omit to reflect what the consequences may be to that country—what the consequences to Europe—of the hazardous enterprise in which she is now engaged; and which, for aught that human prudence can foresee, may end in a dreadful revulsion. As mere matter of abstract right, morality, perhaps, ought to be contented when injury recoils upon an aggressor. But such a revulsion as I am speaking of would not affect France alone: it would touch the Continental States at many points; it would touch even Great Britain. France could not be convulsed without communicating danger to the very extremities of Europe. With this conviction, I confess I thought any sacrifice, short of national honour or national independence, cheap, to prevent the first breach in that pacific settlement, by which the miseries and agitations of the world have been so recently composed.

I apologize, Sir, for the length of time which I have consumed upon these points. The case is complicated: the transactions have been much misunderstood, and the opinions regarding them are various and discordant. The true understanding of the case, however, and the vindication of the conduct of Government, would be matters of comparatively light importance, if censure or approbation for the past were the only result in contemplation. But, considering that we are now only at the threshold, as it were, of the war, and that great events are pending, in which England may hereafter be called upon to take her part, it is of the utmost importance that no doubt should rest, upon the conduct and policy of this country.

One thing more there is, which I must not forget to notice with regard to the advice given to Spain. I have already mentioned the Duke of Wellington as the chosen instrument of that counsel: a Spaniard by adoption, by title, and by property, he had a right to offer the suggestions which he thought fit, to the Government of the country which had adopted him. But it has been complained that the British Government would have induced the Spaniards to break an oath: that, according to the oath taken by the Cortes, the Spanish institutions could be revised only at the expiration of eight years; and that, by calling upon the Cortes to revise them before that period was expired, we urged them to incur the guilt of perjury. Sir, this supposed restriction is assumed gratuitously.

There are two opinions upon it in Spain. One party calculates the eight years from the time which has elapsed since the first establishment of the Constitution; the other reckons only the time during which it has been in operation. The latter insist that the period has yet at least two years to run, because the Constitution has been in force only from 1812 to 1814, and from 1820 to the present time: those who calculate from the original establishment of it in 1812, argue of course that more than the eight years are already expired, and that the period of revision is fully come. I do not pretend to decide between these two constructions; but I assert that they are both Spanish constructions. A Spaniard, of no mean name and reputation,—one eminently friendly to the Constitution of 1812,—by whose advice Ministers were in this respect guided, gave it as his opinion, that not only consistently with their oath, but in exact fulfilment of it, the Spaniards might now reconsider and modify their Constitution—that they might have done so nearly three years ago. 'Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?' say the Cortes. The answer is,

'No; we do not ask you to lay perjury upon your souls; for as good a Spanish soul as is possessed by any of you declares, that you may now, in due conformity to your oaths, reconsider, and, where advisable, reform your Constitution.' Do we not know what constructions have been put in this country, on the coronation oath, as to its operation on what is called the Catholic Question? Will any man say that it has been my intention, or the intention of my honourable friend, the member for Bramber, every time that we have supported a motion for communicating to our Roman Catholic fellow subjects the full benefit of the Constitution, to lay perjury on the soul of the Sovereign?

Sir, I do not pretend to decide whether the number of legislative chambers in Spain should be one, or two, or three. In God's name, let them try what experiment in political science they will, provided we are not affected by the trial. All that Great Britain has done on this occasion has been, not to disturb the course of political experiment, but to endeavour to avert the calamity of war. Good God! when it is remembered how many evils are compressed into that little word 'war', is it possible for any man to hesitate in urging every expedient that could avert it, without sacrificing the honour of the party to which his advice was tendered? Most earnestly do I wish that the Duke of Wellington had succeeded: but great is the consolation that, according to the best accounts from Spain, his counsels have not been misunderstood there, however they have been misrepresented here. I believe that I might with truth go further, and say, that there are those in Spain who now repent the rigid course pursued, and who are beginning to ask each other why they held out so pertinaciously against suggestions at once so harmless and so reasonable. My wish was, that Spain should be saved; that she should be saved before the extremity of evil had come upon her, even by the making of those concessions which, in the heat of national pride, she refused. Under any circumstances, however, I have still another consolation—the consolation of knowing, that never, from the commencement of these negotiations, has Spain been allowed by the British Government to lie under the delusion that her refusal of all modifications would induce England to join her in the war.

The very earliest communication made to Spain forbade her to entertain any such reliance. She was told at the beginning, as she was told in the end, that neutrality was our determined policy. From the first to the last, there was never the slightest variation in this language—never a pause during which she could be for one moment in doubt as to the settled purpose of England.

France, on the contrary, was never assured of the neutrality of England, till my dispatch of the 31st of March (the last of the first series of printed papers) was communicated to the French Ministry at Paris. The speech of the King of France, on the opening of the Chambers (I have no difficulty in saying), excited not only strong feelings of disapprobation, by the principles which it avowed, but serious apprehensions for the future, from the designs which it appeared to disclose. I have no difficulty in saying that the speech delivered from the British throne at the commencement of the present session did, as originally drawn, contain an avowal of our intention to preserve neutrality; but, upon the arrival of the King of France's speech, the paragraph containing that avowal was withdrawn. Nay, I have no difficulty in adding that I plainly told the French Chargé d'Affaires that such an intimation had been intended, but that it was withdrawn in consequence of the speech of the King, his master. Was this truckling to France?

It was not, however, on account of Spain that the pledge of neutrality was withdrawn: it was withdrawn upon principles of general policy on the part of this country. It was withdrawn, because there was that in the King of France's speech which appeared to carry the two countries (France and England) back to their position in older times, when France, as regarded the affairs of Spain, had been the successful rival of England. Under such, circumstances, it behoved the English Ministers to be upon their guard. We were upon our guard. Could we prove our caution more than by withholding that assurance, which would at once have set France at ease? We did withhold that assurance. But it was one thing to withhold the declaration of neutrality, and another to vary the purpose.

Spain, then, I repeat, has never been misled by the British Government. But I fear, nevertheless, that a notion was in some way or other created at Madrid, that if Spain would but hold out resolutely, the Government of England would be forced, by the popular voice in this country, to take part in her favour. I infer no blame against any one; but I do firmly believe that such a notion was propagated in Spain, and that it had great share in producing the peremptory refusal of any modification of the Constitution of 1812. Regretting, as I do, the failure of our endeavours to adjust those disputes, which now threaten so much evil to the world, I am free at least from the self-reproach of having contributed to that delusion in the mind of the Spanish Government or nation, as to the eventual decision of England, which, if it existed in such a degree as to produce reliance upon our co-operation, must have added to the other calamities of her present situation, the bitterness of disappointment. This disappointment, Sir, was from the beginning, certain, inevitable: for the mistake of those who excited the hopes of Spain was not only as to the conduct of the British Government, but as to the sentiments of the British nation. No man, whatever his personal opinion or feeling may be, will pretend that the opinion of the country is not decidedly against war. No man will deny that, if Ministers had plunged the country into a war for the sake of Spain, they would have come before Parliament with a heavier weight of responsibility than had ever lain upon the shoulders of any Government. I impute not to those who may thus have misled the Spanish Ministry, the intention either of thwarting (though such was the effect) the policy of their own Government, or of aggravating (though such must be the consequence) the difficulties of Spain. But for myself I declare, that even the responsibility of plunging this country into an unnecessary war, would have weighed less heavily upon my conscience, than that, which I thank God I have not incurred, of instigating Spain to the war, by exciting hopes of assistance which I had not the means of realizing.

I have thus far, Sir, taken the liberty of assuming that the late negotiations were properly directed to the preservation of peace; and have argued the merits of the negotiations, on that assumption. I am aware, that it is still to be established, that peace, under all the circumstances of the times, was the proper course for this country.

I address myself now to that branch of the subject.

I believe I may venture to take it as universally admitted, that any question of war involves not only a question of right, not only a question of justice, but also a question of expediency. I take it to be admitted on all hands, that before any Government determines to go to war, it ought to be convinced not only that it has just cause of war, but that there is something which renders war its duty: a duty compounded of two considerations—the first, what the country may owe to others; the second, what she owes to herself. I do not know whether any gentleman on the other side of the House has thought it worth while to examine and weigh these considerations, but Ministers had to weigh them well before they took their resolution. Ministers did weigh them well; wisely, I hope; I am sure, conscientiously and deliberately: and, if they came to the decision that peace was the policy prescribed to them, that decision was founded on a reference, first, to the situation of Spain; secondly, to the situation of France; thirdly, to the situation of Portugal; fourthly, to the situation of the Alliance; fifthly, to the peculiar situation of England: and lastly, to the general state of the world. And first, Sir, as to Spain.

The only gentleman by whom (as it seems to me) this part of the question has been fairly and boldly met, is the honourable member for Westminster (Mr. Hobhouse), who, in his speech of yesterday evening (a speech which, however extravagant, as I may perhaps think, in its tone, was perfectly intelligible and straightforward), not only declared himself openly for war, but, aware that one of the chief sinews of war is money, did no less than offer a subsidy to assist in carrying it on. He declared that his constituents were ready to contribute all their means to invigorate the hands of Government in the war; but he annexed, to be sure, the trifling condition, that the war was to be a war of people against kings. Now this, which, it must be owned, was no unimportant qualification of the honourable member's offer of assistance, is also one to which, I confess, I am not quite prepared to accede. I do not immediately remember any case in which such a principle of war has been professed by any Government, except in the decree of the National Convention of the year 1793, which laid the foundation of the war between this country and France—the decree which offered assistance to all nations who would shake off the tyranny of their rulers.

Even the honourable member for Westminster, therefore, is after all but conditionally in favour of war: and, even in that conditional pledge, he has been supported by so few members that I cannot help suspecting that if I were to proceed on the faith of his encouragement, I should find myself left with the honourable gentleman, pretty nearly in the situation of King James with his bishops. King James, we all remember, asked Bishop Neale if he might not take his subjects' money without the authority of Parliament? To which Bishop Neale replied, 'God forbid, Sire, but you should; you are the breath of our nostrils.' The King then turned to Bishop Andrews, and repeated the same question; when Bishop Andrews answered, 'Sire, I think it is lawful for your Majesty to take my brother Neale's money, for he offers it,' Now, if I were to appeal to the House, on the hint of the honourable gentleman, I should, indeed, on his own terms, have an undoubted right to the money of the honourable gentleman; but if the question were put, for instance, to the honourable member for Surrey (Mr. Holme Sumner), his answer would probably be, 'You may take my brother of Westminster's money, as he says his constituents have authorized him to offer it; but my constituents have certainly given me no such authority.'

But however single, or however conditional,—the voice of the honourable member for Westminster is still for war; and he does me the honour to tempt me to take the same course, by reminding me of a passage in my political life to which I shall ever look back with pride and satisfaction. I allude to that period when the bold spirit of Spain burst forth indignant against the oppression of Buonaparte. Then unworthily filling the same office which I have the honour to hold at the present moment, I discharged the glorious duty (if a portion of glory may attach to the humble instrument of a glorious cause) of recognizing without delay the rights of the Spanish nation, and of at once adopting that gallant people into the closest amity with England. It was indeed a stirring, a kindling occasion: and no man who has a heart in his bosom can think even now of the noble enthusiasm, the animated exertions, the undaunted courage, the unconquerable perseverance of the Spanish nation, in a cause apparently so desperate, finally so triumphant, without feeling his blood glow and his pulses quicken with tumultuous throbs of admiration. But I must remind the honourable gentleman of three circumstances, calculated to qualify a little the feelings of enthusiasm, and to suggest lessons of caution: I must remind him first of the state of this country—secondly, of that of Spain—at that period, as compared with the present; and thirdly, of the manner in which the enterprise in behalf of Spain was viewed by certain parties in this country. We are now at peace. In 1808, we were already at war—we were at war with Buonaparte, the invader of Spain. In 1808 we were, as now, the allies of Portugal, bound by treaty to defend her from aggression; but Portugal was at that time not only menaced by the power of France, but overrun by it; her Royal Family was actually driven into exile, and their kingdom occupied by the French. Bound by treaty to protect Portugal, how natural was it, under such circumstances, to extend our assistance to Spain! Again: Spain was at that time, comparatively speaking, an united nation. I do not mean to say that there were no differences of opinion; I do not mean to deny that some few among the higher classes had been corrupted by the gold of France: but still the great bulk of the people were united in one cause; their loyalty to their Sovereign had survived his abdication; and though absent and a prisoner, the name of Ferdinand VII was the rallying-point of the nation. But let the House look at the situation in which England would be placed should she, at the present moment, march her armies to the aid of Spain. As against France alone, her task might not be more difficult than before; but is it only with France that she would now have to contend? England could not strike in the cause of Spain against the invading foe alone. Fighting in Spanish ranks, should we not have to point our bayonets against Spanish bosoms? But this is not the whole of the difference between the present moment and the year 1808. In 1808 we had a large army prepared for foreign service a whole war establishment ready appointed: and the simple question was, in what quarter we could best apply its force against the common enemy of England, of Spain, of Portugal,—of Europe. This country had no hopes of peace: our abstinence from the Spanish war could in no way have accelerated the return of that blessing; and the Peninsula presented, plainly and obviously, the theatre of exertion in which we could contend with most advantage. Compare, then, I say, that period with the present; in which, none of the inducements, or incitements, which I have described as belonging to the opportunity of 1808, can be found.

But is the absence of inducement and incitement all? Is there no positive discouragement in the recollections of that time, to check too hasty a concurrence in the warlike views of the honourable member for Westminster? When England, in 1808, under all the circumstances which I have enumerated, did not hesitate to throw upon the banks of the Tagus, and to plunge into all the difficulties of the Peninsular War, an army destined to emerge in triumph through the Pyrenees, was that course hailed with sympathy and exultation by all parties in the State? Were there no warnings against danger? no chastisements for extravagance? no doubts—no complaints—no charges of rashness and impolicy? I have heard of persons, Sir,—persons of high authority too—who, in the very midst of the general exaltation of spirit throughout this country, declared that, 'in order to warrant England in embarking in a military co-operation with Spain, something more was necessary than to show that the Spanish cause was just.' 'It was not enough,' said these enlightened monitors, 'it was not enough that the attack of France upon the Spanish nation was unprincipled, perfidious, and cruel—that the resistance of Spain was dictated by every principle, and sanctioned by every motive, honourable to human nature—that it made every English heart burn with a holy zeal to lend its assistance against the oppressor: there were other considerations of a less brilliant and enthusiastic, but not less necessary and commanding nature, which should have preceded the determination of putting to hazard the most valuable interests of the country. It is not with nations as with individuals. Those heroic virtues which shed a lustre upon individual man must, in their application to the conduct of nations, be chastened by reflections of a more cautious and calculating cast. That generous magnanimity and high-minded disinterestedness, proud distinctions of national virtue (and happy were the people whom they characterize), which, when exercised at the risk of every personal interest, in the prospect of every danger, and at the sacrifice even of life itself, justly immortalize the hero, cannot and ought not to be considered justifiable motives of political action, because nations cannot afford to be chivalrous and romantic.' History is philosophy teaching by example; and the words of the wise are treasured for ages that are to come. 'The age of chivalry', said Mr. Burke, 'is gone; and an age of economists and calculators has succeeded.' That an age of economists and calculators is come, we have indeed every night's experience. But what would be the surprise, and at the same time the gratification, of the mighty spirit of Burke, at finding his splendid lamentation so happily disproved!—at seeing that chivalrous spirit, the total extinction of which he deplored, revive, qua minime veris, on the very benches of the economists and calculators themselves! But in truth, Sir, it revives at a most inconvenient opportunity. It would be as ill-advised to follow a chivalrous impulse now, as it would in 1808 have been inexcusable to disobey it. Under the circumstances of 1808, I would again act as I then acted. But though inapplicable to the period to which it was applied, I confess I think the caution which I have just quoted does apply, with considerable force, to the present moment.

Having shown, then, that in reference to the state of Spain, war was not the course prescribed by any rational policy to England, let us next try the question in reference to France.

I do not stop here to refute and disclaim again the unworthy notion, which was early put forward, but has been since silently retracted and disowned, that it might have been advisable to try the chance of what might be effected by a menace of war, unsupported by any serious design of carrying that menace into execution. Those by whom this manoeuvre was originally supposed to be recommended are, I understand, anxious to clear themselves from the suspicion of having intended to countenance it, and profess indeed to wonder by whom such an idea can have been entertained. Be it so: I will not press the point invidiously—it is not necessary for my argument. I have a right then to take it as admitted, that we could not have threatened war without being thoroughly prepared for it; and that, in determining to threaten, we must virtually have determined (whatever the chances of escaping that ultimate result) to go to war—that the determinations were in fact identical.

Neither will I discuss over again that other proposition, already sufficiently exhausted in former debates, of the applicability of a purely maritime war to a struggle in aid of Spain, in the campaign by which her fate is to be decided. I will not pause to consider what consolation it would have been to the Spanish nation—what source of animation, and what encouragement to perseverance in resisting their invader—to learn that, though we could not, as in the last war, march to their aid, and mingle our banners with theirs in battle, we were, nevertheless, scouring their coasts for prizes, and securing to ourselves an indemnification for our own expenses in the capture of Martinico.

To go to war therefore directly, unsparingly, vigorously against France, in behalf of Spain, in the way in which alone Spain could derive any essential benefit from our co-operation—to join her with heart and hand, or to wrap ourselves up in a real and bona fide neutrality—that was the true alternative.

Some gentlemen have blamed me for a want of enthusiasm upon this occasion—some, too, who formerly blamed me for an excess of that quality; but though I am charged with not being now sufficiently enthusiastic, I assure them that I do not contemplate the present contest with indifference. Far otherwise. I contemplate, I confess, with fearful anxiety, the peculiar character of the war in which France and Spain are engaged and the peculiar direction which that character may possibly give, to it. I was—I still am—an enthusiast for national independence; but I am not—I hope I never shall be—an enthusiast in favour of revolution. And yet how fearfully are, those two considerations intermingled, in the present contest between France and Spain! This is no war for territory or for commercial advantages. It is unhappily a war of principle. France has invaded Spain from enmity to her new institutions. Supposing the enterprise of France not to succeed, what is there to prevent Spain from invading France, in return, from hatred of the principle upon which her invasion has been justified? Looking upon both sides with an impartial eye, I may avow that I know no equity which should bar the Spaniards from taking such a revenge. But it becomes quite another question whether I should choose to place myself under the necessity of actively contributing to successes which might inflict on France so terrible a retribution. If I admit that such a retribution by the party first attacked could scarcely be censured as unjust, still the punishment retorted upon the aggressor would be so dreadful, that nothing short of having received direct injury could justify any third Power in taking part in it.

War between France and Spain (as the Duke of Wellington has said) must always, to a certain degree, partake of the character of a civil war; a character which palliates, if it does not justify, many acts that do not belong to a regular contest between two nations. But why should England voluntarily enter into a co-operation in which she must either take part in such acts, or be constantly rebuking and coercing her allies? If we were at war with France upon any question such as I must again take the liberty of describing by the term 'external' question, we should not think ourselves (I trust no government of this country would think itself) justified in employing against France the arms of internal revolution. But what, I again ask, is there to restrain Spain from such means of defensive retaliation, in a struggle begun by France avowedly from enmity to the internal institutions of Spain? And is it in such a quarrel that we would mix ourselves? If one of two contending parties poisons the well-springs of national liberty, and the other employs against its adversary the venomed weapons of political fanaticism, shall we voluntarily and unnecessarily associate ourselves with either, and become responsible for the infliction upon either of such unusual calamities? While I reject, therefore, with disdain, a suggestion which I have somewhere heard, of the possibility of our engaging against the Spanish cause, still I do not feel myself called upon to join with Spain in hostilities of such peculiar character as those which she may possibly retaliate upon France. Not being bound to do so by any obligation, expressed or implied, I cannot consent to be a party to a war in which, if Spain should chance to be successful, the result to France, and, through France, to all Europe, might, in the case supposed, be such as no thinking man can contemplate without dismay; and such as I (for my own part) would not assist in producing, for all the advantages which England could reap from the most successful warfare.

I now come to the third consideration which we had to weigh—the situation of Portugal. It is perfectly true, as was stated by the honourable gentleman (Mr. Macdonald) who opened this debate, that we are bound by treaty to assist Portugal in case of her being attacked. It is perfectly true that this is an ancient and reciprocal obligation. It is perfectly true that Portugal has often been in jeopardy; and equally true that England has never failed to fly to her assistance. But much misconception has been exhibited during the last two nights, with respect to the real nature of the engagements between Portugal and this country: a misconception which has undoubtedly been, in part, created by the publication of some detached portions of diplomatic correspondence at Lisbon. The truth is, that some time ago an application was made to this Government by Portugal to 'guarantee the new political institutions' of that kingdom. I do not know that it has been the practice of this country to guarantee the political institutions of another. Perhaps something of the sort may be found in the history of our connexion with the united provinces of Holland, in virtue of which we interfered, in 1786, in the internal disputes of the authorities in that State. But that case was a special exception: the general rule is undoubtedly the other way. I declined, therefore, on the part of Great Britain, to accede to this strange application; and I endeavoured to reconcile the Portuguese Government to our refusal, by showing that the demand was one which went directly to the infraction of that principle of non-interference in the internal affairs of other States, which we professed for ourselves, and which it was obviously the interest of Portugal to see respected and maintained. Our obligations had been contracted with the old Portuguese monarchy. Our treaty bound us to consult the external safety of Portugal; and not to examine, to challenge, or to champion its internal institutions. If we examined their new institutions for the sake of deriving from them new motives for fulfilling our old engagements, with what propriety could we prohibit other Powers from examining them for the purpose of drawing any other conclusion? It was enough to say that such internal changes no way affected our engagements with Portugal; that we felt ourselves as much bound to defend her, under her altered constitution, as under the ancient monarchy, with which our alliance had been contracted. More than this we could not say; and more than this it was not her interest to require.

And what is the obligation of this alliance? To defend Portugal—to assist her, if necessary, with all our forces, in case of an unprovoked attack upon her territory. This, however, does not give to Portugal any right to call on us, if she were attacked in consequence of her voluntarily declaring war against another Power. By engaging in the cause of Spain, without any direct provocation from France, she would unquestionably lose all claim upon our assistance. The rendering that assistance would then become a question of policy, not of duty. Surely my honourable and learned friend (Sir James Mackintosh), who has declaimed so loudly on this subject, knows as well as any man, that the course which we are bound to follow, in any case affecting Portugal, is marked out in our treaties with that Crown, with singular accuracy and circumspection. In case of the suspicion of any design being entertained against Portugal by another Power, our first duty is to call on such Power for explanation: in case of such interposition failing, we are to support Portugal by arms; first with a limited force, and afterwards with all our might. This treaty we have fulfilled to the letter, in the present instance. We long ago reminded France, of our engagements with Portugal; and we have received repeated assurances that it is the determination of France rigidly to respect the independence of that kingdom. Portugal certainly did show some jealousy (as has been asserted) with respect to the Congress of Verona; and she applied to this Government to know whether her affairs had been brought before the Congress. I was half afraid of giving offence when I said 'the name of Portugal was never mentioned'. 'What, not mentioned? not a word about the new institutions?' 'No, not one. If mentioned at all, it was only with reference to the slave trade.' In truth, from the beginning to the close of the proceedings of the Congress, not the most distant intimation was given of any unfriendly design against Portugal.

Now, before I quit the Peninsula, a single word more to the honourable member for Westminster and his constituents. Have they estimated the burdens of a Peninsular War? God forbid that, if honour, or good faith, or national interest required it, we should decline the path of duty because it is encompassed with difficulties; but at least we ought to keep some consideration of these difficulties in our minds. We have experience to teach us, with something like accuracy, what are the pecuniary demands of the contest for which we must be prepared, if we enter into a war in the Peninsula. To take only two years and a half of the last Peninsular War of which I happen to have the accounts at hand, from the beginning of 1812 to the glorious conclusion of the campaign of 1814, the expense incurred in Spain and Portugal was about £33,000,000. Is that an expense to be incurred again, without some peremptory and unavoidable call of duty, of honour, or of interest?

Such a call we are at all times ready to answer, come (to use the expression so much decried), come what may. But there is surely sufficient ground for pausing, before we acquiesce in the short and flippant deduction of a rash consequence from false premises, which has been so glibly echoed from one quarter to another, during the last four months. 'Oh! we must go to war with France, for we are bound to go to war in defence of Portugal. Portugal will certainly join Spain against France; France will then attack Portugal; and then our defensive obligation comes into play.' Sir, it does no such thing. If Portugal is attacked by France, or by any other Power, without provocation, Great Britain is indeed bound to defend her: but if Portugal wilfully seeks the hostility of France, by joining against France in a foreign quarrel, there is no such obligation on Great Britain. The letter of treaties is as clear as the law of nations is precise upon this point: and as I believe no British statesman ever lived, so I hope none ever will live, unwise enough to bind his country by so preposterous an obligation, as that she should go to war, not merely in defence of an ally, but at the will and beck of that ally, whenever ambition, or false policy, or a predominant faction, may plunge that ally into wars of her own seeking and contriving.

On the other hand, would it have been advisable for us to precipitate Portugal into the war? Undoubtedly we might have done so. For by declaring war against France, on behalf of Spain, we should have invited France (and there was perhaps a party in Portugal ready enough to second the invitation) to extend her hostilities to the whole of the Peninsula. But was it an object of sound policy to bring a war upon our hands, of which it was clear that we must bear all the burden? And was not the situation of Portugal, then, so far from being a reason for war, that it added the third motive, and one of the greatest weight, to our preference for a pacific policy?

Fourthly.—As to our Continental allies. There was surely nothing in their situation to induce Great Britain to take a part in the war. Their Ministers have indeed been withdrawn from Madrid; but no alarm has been excited, by that act, in Spain. No case has occurred which gives to France a right to call for the assistance of the allies. But had the British Government taken a decided part in support of the Spaniards, a material change might have been produced in the aspect of affairs. Spain, who has now to contend with France alone, might in that case have had to contend with other and more overwhelming forces. Without pushing these considerations farther, enough surely has been said to indicate the expediency of adhering to that line of policy which we successfully pursued at Verona; and of endeavouring, by our example as well as by our influence, to prevent the complication and circumscribe the range of hostilities. Let it be considered how much the duration and the disasters of a war may depend upon the multitude or the fewness of its elements; and how much the accession of any new party, or parties, to a war must add to the difficulties of pacification.

I come next to consider the situation of this country. And first, as to our ability for the undertaking of a war. I have already said, that the country is yet rich enough in resources, in means, in strength, to engage in any contest to which national honour may call her; but I must at the same time be allowed to say, that her strength has very recently been strained to the utmost; that her means are at that precise stage of recovery which makes it most desirable that the progress of that recovery should not be interrupted; that her resources, now in a course of rapid reproduction, would, by any sudden check, be thrown into a disorder more deep and difficult of cure. It is in reference to this particular condition of the country, that I said on a former evening, what the honourable member for Surrey (Mr. Holme Sumner) has since done me the honour to repeat, 'If we are to be driven into war, sooner or later, let it be later': let it be after we have had time to turn, as it were, the corner of our difficulties— after we shall have retrieved a little more, effectively our exhausted resources, and have assured ourselves of means and strength, not only to begin, but to keep up the conflict, if necessary, for an indefinite period of time.

For let no man flatter himself that a war now entered upon would be a short one. Have we so soon forgotten the course and progress of the last war? For my part, I remember well the anticipations with which it began. I remember hearing a man, who will be allowed to have been distinguished by as great sagacity as ever belonged to the most consummate statesman—I remember hearing Mr. Pitt, not, in his place in Parliament (where it might have been his object and his duty to animate zeal and to encourage hope), but in the privacy of his domestic circle, among the friends in whom he confided—I remember well hearing him say, in 1793, that he expected that war to be of very short duration. That duration ran out to a period beyond the life of him who made the prediction. It outlived his successor, and the successors of that successor, and at length came suddenly and unexpectedly to an end, through a combination of miraculous events, such as the most sanguine imagination could not have anticipated. With that example full in my recollection, I could not act upon the presumption that a new war, once begun, would be speedily ended. Let no such expectation induce us to enter a path, which, however plain and clear it may appear at the outset of the journey, we should presently see branching into intricacies, and becoming encumbered with obstructions, until we were involved in a labyrinth from which not we ourselves only, but the generation to come, might in vain endeavour to find the means of extrication.

For the confirmation of these observations I appeal to that which I have stated as the last of the considerations in reference to which the policy of the British Government was calculated—mean, to the present state of the world. No man can witness with more delight than I do the widening diffusion of political liberty. Acknowledging all the blessings which we have long derived from liberty ourselves, I do not grudge to others a participation in them. I would not prohibit other nations from kindling their torches at the flame of British freedom. But let us not deceive ourselves. The general acquisition of free institutions is not necessarily a security for general peace. I am obliged to confess that its immediate tendency is the other way. Take an example from France herself. The Representative Chamber of France has undoubtedly been the source of those hostilities, which I should not have despaired of seeing averted through the pacific disposition of the French King. Look at the democracies of the ancient world. Their existence, I may say, was in war. Look at the petty republics of Italy in more modern times. In truth, long intervals of profound peace are much more readily to be found under settlements of a monarchical form. Did the Republic of Rome, in the whole career of her existence, enjoy an interval of peace of as long duration as that which this country enjoyed under the administration of Sir Robert Walpole?—and that interval, be it remembered, was broken short through the instigation of popular feeling. I am not saying that this is right or wrong—but that it is so. It is in the very nature of free governments—and more especially, perhaps, of governments newly free. The principle which for centuries has given ascendancy to Great Britain is that she was the single, free State in Europe. The spread of the representative system destroys that singularity, and must (however little we may like it) proportionally enfeeble our preponderating influence—unless we measure our steps cautiously and accommodate our conduct to the times. Let it not be supposed that I would disparage the progress of freedom, that I wish checks to be applied to it, or that I am pleased at the sight of obstacles thrown in its way. Far, very far from it. I am only desiring it to be observed, that we cannot expect to enjoy at the same time incompatible advantages. Freedom must ever be the greatest of blessings; but it ceases to be a distinction, in proportion as other nations become free.

But, Sir, this is only a partial view of the subject; and one to which I have been led by the unreasonable expectations of those who, while they make loud complaints of the diplomacy of England, as less commanding than heretofore, unconsciously specify the very causes which necessarily diminish and counteract its efficacy.

There are, however, other considerations to which I beg leave to turn the attention of the House.

It is perfectly true, as has been argued by more than one honourable member in this debate, that there is a contest going on in the world, between the spirit of unlimited monarchy, and the spirit of unlimited democracy. Between these two spirits, it may be said that strife is either openly in action or covertly at work, throughout the greater portion of Europe. It is true, as has also been argued, that in no former period in history is there so close a resemblance to the present, as in that of the Reformation. So far my honourable and learned friend (Sir J. Mackintosh) and the honourable baronet (Sir F. Burdett) were justified in holding up Queen Elizabeth's reign as an example for our study. The honourable member for Westminster, too, has observed that, in imitation of Queen Elizabeth's policy, the proper place for this country, in the present state of the world, is at the head of free nations struggling against arbitrary power. Sir, undoubtedly there is, as I have admitted, a general resemblance between the two periods; forasmuch as in both we see a conflict of opinions, and in both a bond of union growing out of those opinions, which establishes, between parts and classes of different nations, a stricter communion than belongs to community of country. It is true—it is, I own I think, a formidable truth—that in this respect the two periods do resemble each other. But though there is this general similarity, there is one circumstance which mainly distinguishes the present time from the reign of Elizabeth; and which, though by no means unimportant in itself, has been overlooked by all those to whose arguments I am now referring. Elizabeth was herself amongst the revolters against the authority of the Church of Rome; but we are not amongst those who are engaged in a struggle against the spirit of unlimited monarchy. We have fought that fight. We have taken our station. We have long ago assumed a character differing altogether from that of those around us. It may have been the duty and the interest of Queen Elizabeth to make common cause with—to put herself at the head of—those who supported the Reformation: but can it be either our interest or our duty to ally ourselves with revolution? Let us be ready to afford refuge to the sufferers of either extreme party: but it is not surely our policy to become the associate of either. Our situation now is rather what that of Elizabeth would have been, if the Church of England had been, in her time, already completely established, in uncontested supremacy; acknowledged as a legitimate settlement, unassailed and unassailable by papal power. Does my honourable and learned friend believe that the policy of Elizabeth would in that case have been the same?

Now, our complex constitution is established with so happy a mixture of its elements—its tempered monarchy and its regulated freedom—that we have nothing to fear from foreign despotism, nothing at home but from capricious change. We have nothing to fear, unless, distasteful of the blessings which we have earned, and of the calm which we enjoy, we let loose again, with rash hand, the elements of our constitution, and set them once more to fight against each other. In this enviable situation, what have we in common with the struggles which are going on in other countries, for the attainment of objects of which we have been long in undisputed possession? We look down upon those struggles from the point to which we have happily attained, not with the cruel delight which is described by the poet, as arising from the contemplation of agitations in which the spectator is not exposed to share; but with an anxious desire to mitigate, to enlighten, to reconcile, to save—by our example in all cases, by our exertions where we can usefully interpose.

Our station, then, is essentially neutral: neutral not only between contending nations, but between conflicting principles. The object of the Government has been to preserve that station; and for the purpose of preserving it, to maintain peace. By remaining at peace ourselves, we best secure Portugal; by remaining at peace, we take the best chance of circumscribing the range and shortening the duration of the war, which we could not prevent from breaking out between France and Spain. By remaining at peace, we shall best enable ourselves to take an effectual and decisive part in any contest into which we may be hereafter forced against our will.

The papers on the table, the last paper at least (I mean the dispatch of the 31st of March, in which is stated what we expect from France), ought, I think, to have satisfied the honourable baronet, who said that, provided the Government was firm in purpose, he should not be disposed to find fault with their having acted suaviter in modo . In that dispatch our neutrality is qualified with certain specified conditions. To those conditions France has given her consent. When we say in that dispatch, we are 'satisfied' that those conditions will be observed, is it not obvious that we use a language of courtesy, which is always most becomingly employed between independent Powers? Who does not know that, in diplomatic correspondence, under that suavity of expression is implied an 'or', which imports another alternative?

So far, then, as the interests and honour of Great Britain are concerned, those interests and that honour have, been scrupulously maintained. Great Britain has come out of the, negotiations, claiming all the respect that is due to her; and, in a tone not to be mistaken, enforcing all her rights. It is true that her policy has not been violent or precipitate. She has not sprung forth armed, from the impulse of a sudden indignation; she has looked before and after; she has reflected on all the circumstances which beset, and on all the consequences which may follow, so awful a decision as war; and instead of descending into the arena, as party in a quarrel not her own, she has assumed the attitude and the attributes of justice, holding high the balance, and grasping but not unsheathing the sword.

Sir, I will now trouble the House no further than to call its attention to the precise nature of the motion which it has to dispose of this night. Sir, the result of the negotiations, as I have before stated, rendered it unnecessary and irregular for the Government to call for the expression of a parliamentary opinion upon them. It was, however, competent for any honourable member to suggest to the House the expression of such opinion; which, if expressed at all, it will readily be admitted ought to be expressed intelligibly. Now, what is the Address which, after a fortnight's notice, and after the menaces with which it has been announced and ushered in, the House has been desired to adopt? The honourable gentleman's Address first proposes to 'represent to His Majesty, that the disappointment of His Majesty's benevolent solicitude to preserve general peace appears to this House to have, in a great measure, arisen from the failure of his Ministers to make the most earnest, vigorous, and solemn protest against the pretended right of the Sovereigns assembled at Verona, to make war on Spain in order to compel alterations in her political institutions'. I must take the liberty to say that this is not a true description. The war I have shown to be a French war, not arising from anything done, or omitted to be done, at Verona. But to finish the sentence:—'as well as against the subsequent pretension of the French Government, that nations cannot lawfully enjoy any civil privileges but from the spontaneous grant of their kings.' I must here again take the liberty to say that the averment is not correct. Whatever the misconduct of Government in these negotiations may have been, it is plain matter-of-fact, that they protested in the strongest manner against the pretension put forward in the speech of the King of France, that the liberties and franchises of a nation should be derived exclusively from the throne. It is on record, in this very Address, that the honourable gentlemen themselves could not have protested more strongly than the Government; since, in the next sentence to that which I have just read, in order to deliver themselves with the utmost force, they have condescended to borrow my words. For the Address goes on: '… principles destructive of the rights of all independent States, which strike at the root of the British Constitution, and are subversive of His Majesty's legitimate title to the throne.' Now by far the strongest expression in this sentence—the metaphor (such as it is) about 'striking at the root of the British Constitution '—is mine. It is in my dispatch to Sir Charles Stuart of the 4th of February, I claim it with the pride and fondness of an author: when I see it plagiarized by those who condemn me for not using sufficiently forcible language, and who yet, in the very breath, in which they pronounce that condemnation, are driven to borrow my very words to exemplify the omission which they impute.

So much for the justice of the Address: now for its usefulness and efficacy.

What is the full and sufficient declaration of the sense of the House on this most-momentous crisis, which is contained in this monitory expostulation to the throne? It proceeds: 'Further to declare to His Majesty the surprise and sorrow with which this House has observed that His Majesty's Ministers should have advised the Spanish Government, while so unwarrantably menaced'—(this 'so' must refer to something out of doors, for there is not a word in the previous part of this precious composition to which it can be grammatically applied)—'to alter their constitution, in the hope of averting invasion; a concession which alone would have involved the total sacrifice of national independence, and which was not even palliated by an assurance from France, that on receiving so dishonourable a submission, she would desist from her unprovoked aggression.' (I deny this statement, by the way; it is a complete misrepresentation.) 'Finally to represent to His Majesty that, in the judgement of this House, a tone of more dignified remonstrance would have been better calculated to preserve the peace of the Continent, and thereby to secure this nation more effectually from the hazard of being involved in the calamities of war.' And there it ends!—with a mere conjecture of what 'would have been'!

Is this an Address for a British Parliament, carrying up a complaint that the nation is on the eve of war, but conveying not a word of advice as to the course to be followed at such a moment? I, for my own part, beg the House not to agree to such an Address—for this reason, amongst others, that as it will be my duty to tender my humble advice to His Majesty as to the answer to be given to it, I am sure I shall not know what to advise His Majesty to say: the only answer which occurs to me as suitable to the occasion is, 'Indeed! I am very sorry for it.'

This, then, is the upshot of a motion which was to show that the present Ministers are unfit to carry on war or to maintain peace; and, by implication, that there are those who know better how such matters should be managed. This is the upshot of the motion, which was to dislodge us from our seats, and to supply our places with the honourable gentlemen opposite. It is affirmed that we are now on the eve of war, the peace which we have maintained being insecure. If we are on the eve of war, will not this be the first time that a British House of Parliament has approached the throne, on such an occasion, without even a conditional pledge of support? If war is a matter even of possible contemplation, it surely becomes this House either to concur in an Address for the removal of the Ministers, who have needlessly incurred that danger; or, as the amendment moved by the honourable member for Yorkshire proposes, to tender to His Majesty a cordial assurance that this House will stand by His Majesty in sustaining the dignity of his crown, and the rights and interests of his people. I trust, therefore, Sir, that by rejecting this most incorrect and inadequate Address—as unworthy of the House as it is of the occasion; an Address contradictory in some parts to itself: in more, to the established facts of the case; and in all to the ascertained sense of the country; and by adopting, in its room, the amendment moved by the honourable member for Yorkshire, and seconded by the member for London, the House will stamp the policy which the King's Ministers have pursued—feebly perhaps, perhaps erroneously, but at all events from pure motives, in the sincerity of their hearts, and as conducive, in their judgement, to the tranquillity, welfare, and happiness, not of this country only, but of the world—with that highest of all sanctions, the deliberate approbation of the House of Commons.

SIR ROBERT PEEL JUNE 1, 1829 PORTUGAL—DON MIGUEL

On the motion of Sir J. Mackintosh, the passages in His Majesty's speech at the commencement and termination of the last and at the commencement of the present session were read. Sir J. Mackintosh then delivered a long and powerful speech, relating to the affairs of Portugal, concluding, amidst loud cheers, with moving for copies and extracts of communications concerning the relations between this country and the Queen of Portugal, illustrative of the several topics alluded to in his speech.

Mr. Secretary Peel said, that the right hon. gentleman who had just made an able and eloquent speech to the House had reserved for the closing part an affecting address to their feelings. The right hon. gentleman had detailed the extreme severities alleged to have been committed upon certain residents in the city of Oporto. He was confident, however, that no sympathy towards the sufferings of individuals, and no indignation against injustice, would withdraw the House from the calm and dispassionate consideration of those principles on which the public policy of this country had been founded with regard to the kingdom of Portugal. He could not but express his cordial concurrence in the hope that this country, through the forbearance, wisdom, and virtue of its constitutional counsellors, would continue to enjoy the tranquillity and harmony which, for the last fifteen years, it had happily experienced. He trusted that efforts would be made to advance general instruction and civilization, and increased commercial intercourse between the nations, until the character of merely military conquerors was reduced to its proper dimensions, and until society was impressed with just notions of moral obligations and the blessings of peace. He hoped he should not be misconstrued, as a Minister of this country, in using this language. It proceeded from no unwillingness to enter upon war, if the cause were just and necessary—from no diffidence in the resources of the country—from no fear of the, ability of bringing such a contest to a, successful issue; but no man interested in the general improvement and happiness of mankind, and charged with the superintendence of the concerns of a great nation, could be accounted as acting an unworthy part in wishing for the continuance of peace. He indulged the hope of being able to satisfy the House that the course pursued with respect to Portugal had not only been in conformity to the strict principle of engagements—not only in conformity to the moral responsibility which England had incurred—but that it was better calculated to provide for the continuance of tranquillity than that which, judging by his arguments and observations, the right hon. gentleman would have been disposed to recommend with regard to the kingdom of Portugal. He admitted with the right hon. gentleman the antiquity of the relations subsisting between this country and Portugal. He admitted that they had continued almost without interruption for four hundred and fifty years; and although the right hon. gentleman said, that on three occasions Portugal was subjected to invasion in consequence of its adherence to England, yet he begged to remind the House that England had not been backward in advancing to the succour of Portugal; and that the history of no country exhibited more proofs of the part taken by a powerful state to protect any kingdom in its interests and independence. The Portuguese were well entitled to the name of ancient allies: the inhabitants of the respective countries had united their arms in many fields, and almost always in fields of victory. The question now to be considered was, whether treaties existed imposing on Great Britain any obligation which of late had not been fulfilled; or whether any obligation imposed on her a duty to be fulfilled when called on by an appeal for further interference.

If the House would permit him, he would notice in detail the several observations of the right hon. gentleman; and, in the first place, those made rather with a view of provoking explanation than of criminating or accusing the advisers of the Crown. The right hon. gentleman had stated that, by a series of treaties, England was bound to protect the integrity and independence of the Portuguese territories. That statement was correct; but he denied that, either in the letter or in the spirit of those treaties, or in any engagement or obligation entered into by Great Britain, there was conveyed a guarantee of the succession of any particular individual, or a guarantee of the existence of any political institution in Portugal. No request for such a guarantee had ever been preferred before the year 1820. In consequence of the unfortunate dissensions since that time, frequent applications had been made to England by different parties, either for the guarantee of certain institutions, or the security of existing forms of government; but the uniform answer was, that the guarantee to Portugal was against foreign invasion, and not on behalf of particular institutions, and that the general rule of England was not to interfere in the internal affairs of other countries. In 1822, his right hon. friend, Mr. Canning, being reappointed to the office of Secretary for Foreign Affairs, was appealed to by the democratic Government of Portugal for a guarantee of its political institutions. His right hon. friend referred the deputation to the declaration made by Lord Castlereagh at the Congress of Laybach, as the Minister of England, that her rule was not to interfere in the affairs of other countries, and distinctly notified to the Secretary of State of Portugal that the general principles of Lord Castlereagh's declaration applied to the institutions of Portugal. He held in his hand an extract from the note written by Mr. Ward under the direction of Mr. Canning. It stated that, in reply to the doubts of Mr. Oliveira, he referred to the declaration of 1821, laying it down as His Britannic Majesty's principles, with respect to foreign states, to abstain from interference in their domestic affairs; a principle which applied to all independent states, and was the more binding as depending on the law of nations. He referred, he said, to this note to show that the present policy was not a line of conduct adopted for one occasion, but a principle expressly laid down both by Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Canning, and which, notwithstanding our peculiar relations with Portugal, in consequence of treaties existing for four hundred years, was yet not considered applicable to Portugal more than to any other state. In 1822, when Brazil and England were engaged in negotiations consequent upon the declaration of the independence of the Crown of Portugal, the principle was also considered applicable, and was observed throughout; and, in acknowledging the independence of Brazil, it was understood that it should not preclude an amicable arrangement between the two countries. The course adopted by Mr. Canning not only was sanctioned by sound policy and justice, but was the principle that had always guided England when called on to interfere in the civil concerns of Portugal. It was quite true that, in 1826, England sent an army to Portugal, and he thought then, and thought now, that in doing so she not only acted in conformity with the spirit of ancient treaties, but of wisdom and sound policy. Nothing could be more express than the disclaimer by Mr. Canning, that the army was not sent out for the purpose of supporting political institutions, but at the express instance of the de facto Government of Portugal, craving the assistance of England as a protection from foreign invasion. The principle of non-interference was distinctly recognized in sending out that army, and every instruction to the officer in command was to forbear mingling in civil dissensions, but to protect the kingdom from foreign invasion.

He brought forward these statements to show that England had throughout declined giving a guarantee for any political institutions, or interfering in civil dissensions. That being the general rule, was there any peculiarity in the usurpation of Don Miguel, or in the claims of Donna Maria, to impose upon England the necessity of departing from her usual course? He was prepared to contend, in opposition to the inferences that might be drawn from the arguments of the right hon. gentleman, that there was no special case calling for a departure from our general system of policy. The first proof given by the right hon. gentleman of the duty of a qualified interference was drawn from the fact, that Don Miguel's accession or usurpation was in 1825, at the time when the treaty of separation between Brazil and Portugal had been entered into, and when the constitution had been sent from Brazil, through the agency of Sir Charles Stuart, a British subject. The right hon. gentleman had stated that this circumstance must have led the people of Portugal to believe that England was a party to the grant of the constitution, and as such bound to aid and support it. The answer to that point was quite conclusive. The affairs of Portugal would be so familiar to the House that they would recollect that Don John, its late monarch, died in 1826, and that Don Pedro, his son, having effected the separation of Brazil and Portugal by treaty, was styled Emperor of Brazil. Don John died, and the treaty was ratified; but no provision had been made for the succession to the crown of Portugal. Don Pedro claimed the crown as king by succession, and determined on transferring it to his daughter, with the grant of a constitution. Now the fact was that England was not in any way responsible for that constitution. Don John died in 1826, and Sir Charles Stuart brought the constitution to Portugal on May 11 in the same year; and, by the dates of the different events, it was physically impossible that England should have organized the charter. Sir Charles Stuart was not only the plenipotentiary of England to Brazil, but was also employed in a similar capacity in adjusting certain differences between Brazil and Portugal; and, having discharged his duties as a British subject, he had remained at Rio de Janeiro in the latter character. Sir Charles did not act by the advice of the British Government, but was the mere bearer of the charter; and Mr. Canning, fearing that his residence at Lisbon might create an impression that this country was responsible for the charter, sent a circular to every court in Europe, disclaiming on the part of the British Government, any part in, or even knowledge of, the transaction; and he moreover ordered Sir Charles Stuart forthwith to leave Lisbon, lest his presence should be misconstrued into a countenancing of Don Pedro's constitution. The right hon. gentleman had inferred that England had contracted to support the constitutional charter. Now it so happened that all delusion upon that point had been effectually prevented by the language of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, who declared in Parliament that he had declined advising the King to interfere in the affairs of Portugal. Nothing could be more explicit than the declaration of Mr. Canning. As the subject was important, he trusted the House would allow him to refer to the words of Mr. Canning. On December 12, 1826, in the celebrated speech which he delivered on bringing down the King's message respecting the affairs of Portugal, Mr. Canning expressed himself as follows: 'It has been surmised that this measure (the grant of a constitutional charter to Portugal), as well as the abdication with which it was accompanied, was the offspring of our advice. No such thing. Great Britain did not suggest this measure. It is not her duty, nor her practice, to offer suggestions for the internal regulation of foreign states. She neither approved nor disapproved of the grant of a constitutional charter to Portugal; her opinion upon that grant was never required. True it is that the instrument of the constitutional charter was brought to Europe by a gentleman of high trust in the service of the British Government. Sir Charles Stuart had gone to Brazil to negotiate the separation between that country and Portugal. In addition to his character of plenipotentiary of Great Britain as the mediating Power, he had also been invested by the King of Portugal with the character of His Most Faithful Majesty's plenipotentiary for the negotiation with Brazil. That negotiation had been brought to a happy conclusion; and therewith the British part of Sir C. Stuart's commission had terminated. But Sir C. Stuart was still resident at Rio de Janeiro as the plenipotentiary of the King of Portugal, for negotiating commercial arrangements between Portugal and Brazil. In this latter character it was that Sir C. Stuart, on his return to Europe, was requested by the Emperor of Brazil to be the bearer to Portugal of the new constitutional charter. His Majesty's Government found no fault with Sir C. Stuart for executing this commission; but it was immediately felt that, if Sir C. Stuart were allowed to remain at Lisbon, it might appear in the eyes of Europe that England was the contriver and imposer of the Portuguese constitution. Sir C. Stuart was therefore directed to return home forthwith, in order that the constitution, if carried into effect there, might plainly appear to be adopted by the Portuguese nation itself—not forced upon them by English interference.' On the part of the Government of England, it was evident, therefore, that no advice had been given on the subject of this charter, and that England was in no way responsible for it. Mr. Canning publicly avowed this fact; therefore there could have been no deception practised upon Portugal, nor could she have placed any reliance upon the participation of England in the transaction.

The right hon. gentleman, in the second part of his speech, had adverted to the discussions at London and Vienna, respecting the acceptance of the regency by Don Miguel, as involving a necessity to support the claims of the young queen. But surely it was too much to contend that, if England and Austria had taken certain measures respecting the appointment of Don Miguel to the regency, with the sanction of Don Pedro, they thereby became the guarantees of the Queen's rights. It was true that the King of Great Britain and the Emperor of Austria took certain measures to induce Don Miguel to comply with the engagements; and it was true that the engagements he contracted with Don Pedro were not fulfilled. That circumstance might impair the individual character and conduct of Don Miguel, in any discussion regarding his private crimes and vices; but he would remind the right hon. gentleman that the vices and the crimes of this individual were matter of consideration for the inhabitants of Portugal; and if ever we undertook to govern our public policy by considerations arising from the private acts of individuals, he feared that that influence, which he rejoiced to hear we were admitted to possess, would not long continue. These were considerations which ought not to influence the public policy of other nations. Then the question came to this—Was England to undertake the conquest of Portugal for Donna Maria or not? That was the whole question. The right hon. gentleman said that England and Austria ought to have compelled Don Miguel to have executed his office of Regent of Portugal. By what means? There was only one of two courses of action—either complete neutrality, or the conquest of Portugal for the Queen. To give advice to Don Miguel, without intending to follow up that advice by force, if necessary, would be very likely to disappoint its effect: to threaten, without executing the threat, would be very inconsistent with the dignity of the Crown of England. To enter into any alliance with Brazil, with regard to the succession of the young Queen, would for various reasons, besides our proximity to Portugal, make England the principal in the war, and Brazil an inadequate sharer. It would be difficult to contend that there was anything in ancient treaties, or any part of our stipulations, which strengthened the claim on England to advance the interests of Donna Maria by arms, or to force upon a reluctant people a Sovereign they were not willing to accept. The right hon. gentleman had said that at Vienna it had been intimated to Don Miguel, by the Courts of Austria and England, that if he did not accept the regency on the conditions upon which it was offered to him, he should be detained at Vienna until instructions could be received from Don Pedro. He (Mr. Peel) did not recollect that any such intimation had been conveyed to Don Miguel. He had no recollection as to any intention of forcibly detaining him; and he could assert that England was no party to any such forcible detention. England was merely present by her ambassador. It was, no doubt, an indignity to England that Don Miguel did not fulfil his stipulations, which had been entered into in the presence of her ambassador. But the question was, whether it was just or politic to make this a ground of war? He deplored, as much as the right hon. gentleman, Don Miguel's non-observance of those stipulations, and his want of faith; but he only contended that there was no ground for the interference of England by force, still less for adopting a principle of interference which might lead to serious consequences.

Another subject to which the right hon. gentleman had referred was the blockade of Terceira; and, without entering into all the particulars of that blockade, he should be able to justify the course pursued by Government. The right hon. gentleman had lamented that England had respected a blockade established by a de facto Government. He would merely adduce—as a proof that there was no partiality to Portugal in recognizing the blockade—the fact that when Don Pedro disunited the Portuguese Empire, and declared Brazil independent, in defiance of his father, he established a blockade. England, upon that occasion, pursued the same course as she had now done. Without pronouncing upon the legality of the Government, she respected this act. So, in the present case, without pronouncing on the legality of Don Miguel's government, finding a blockade established, we had respected it, as we had done in Greece and in South America when a blockade was established by a competent force. Then the right hon. gentleman had contended that there was a want of courtesy in not admitting the claims of the respective Ministers of Portugal and Brazil. Now, there were three individuals in this country who had taken part in some diplomatic relations—the Marquis Palmella, the Marquis Barbacena, and Count Itabayana. But when the Marquis Palmella was applied to respecting the affairs of Portugal, he declared his functions to be at an end. Surely England could not be expected to recognize a Minister who, when he was addressed upon public matters, declared that his functions as a Minister were at an end! With regard to the Marquis Barbacena, he arrived here in charge of the Queen of Portugal, quite unexpectedly. The Queen had been sent from the Brazils to Vienna, in order to be placed under her relation the Emperor of Austria. No notification had been transmitted to this country of his intention to send her here. Letters were actually received from Mr. Gordon, our Minister at the Brazils, dated three weeks after the Queen of Portugal had sailed, which mentioned no intention of the Queen coming to England. It was not until the arrival of the Marquis Barbacena at Gibraltar, that he determined to convey her hither; and it was not too much for the Government to ask the marquis, 'In what character do you appear?' Still it was intimated to him that, notwithstanding the want of courtesy displayed in not notifying the intention of Her Majesty, this would not affect the conduct of the Government, or cause the disrespectful reception of the Queen. But this showed the absolute necessity of ascertaining the character and powers of the marquis. Therefore, he could not think that his noble friend at the head of the Foreign Department, having to do with three Ministers of one state, was in fault if he desired to know their powers before he treated with them.

He would again remind the hon. gentleman that, if Don Miguel did sway the destinies of Portugal, this was not owing to foreign influence; it was owing to the Portuguese themselves. He had been proclaimed King by the Cortes of the kingdom. An insurrection had indeed sprung up, but it had failed. The right hon. gentleman said that it failed through some mistake, and that if the insurgents had pressed forward to Lisbon, Don Miguel and his mother would have been forced to emigrate. But he (Mr. Peel) held it to be quite unnecessary to discuss these points, or to inquire into the popularity of the King, or the consequences which might have happened if the insurgent general had advanced. Don Miguel was the person administering, de facto, the government of Portugal, and he could not think it prudent on the part of England to undertake to displace him, and to dictate to the Portuguese who should be their ruler.

The only other transaction to which the right hon. gentleman had referred in the second part of his speech was that of Terceira. He would attempt to explain, with as much clearness as possible, the course which the Government had pursued in this affair. It was the determination of the English Government to maintain a strict and undeviating neutrality in regard to the dissensions of Portugal; and they resolved not to be induced, by any appeal to their feelings, to depart from it. They considered that there had been no sufficient case made out for forcible interference, and they resolved not to interfere. When the insurgents in the north of Portugal were driven to take refuge in Spain, Spain objected to receive them, and England did interfere to procure them a milder treatment. They, however, determined to repair to England, and applied for leave, which was granted: and a body of from three thousand to four thousand men were received at Plymouth, and continued there for a considerable time. The right hon. gentleman said that a notification was conveyed to them in November that the officers were to be separated from the men; that, in consequence, the Marquis Palmella informed the Duke of Wellington of their wish to retire to Brazil, and that on December 23 they applied to go to Terceira. The right hon. gentleman's version of this transaction was somewhat different from his. On December 23, an intimation had been given to Marquis Palmella that England would not permit them to go on a hostile expedition to any part of the Portuguese dominions. But the right hon. gentleman had not stated that, on October 15, two months before the period before mentioned, the Marquis Barbacena had written to the Duke of Wellington to inform him that the Government of the Azores had made preparations for the reception of the Portuguese refugees, and that the marquis applied for a conveyance of the troops to Terceira, the largest island of the Azores. The other islands had acknowledged Don Miguel; in Terceira the garrison was in favour of Don Miguel, but there was a strong party in the island in favour of the Queen. The answer of the Duke of Wellington, on October 18, was that England was determined to maintain a neutrality in the civil dissensions of Portugal, and that the King, with that determination, could not permit the ports and arsenals of England to be made places of equipment for hostile armaments. It was intimated to the Marquis Palmella that, although the Government were willing to give shelter to the troops, it was improper that they should continue to occupy Plymouth as a military body, and that they should distribute themselves in the adjoining villages. The answer to this intimation was that their separation as a military body would relieve the Portuguese Government of its apprehensions. Was it to be tolerated that a Power not at war with us should see a force collected in England sufficient to excite apprehensions? The Marquis Palmella was told that the troops must give up their military character and become individuals. The answer was that, rather than separate, and destroy their military character, they would prefer going to Brazil. The reply to this was, that we did not wish them to go to Brazil, but we would not obstruct them; and in order to protect them from Portuguese cruisers, a British convoy was offered and declined. The right hon. gentleman said that application was made for permission for a body of unarmed men to go to Terceira. But it was necessary that the House should know certain facts relating to the export of arms in that island which, if permitted, every object they had in view would have been attained. He was sorry to be obliged to state these facts; but it was necessary to the vindication of the Government, and those who were implicated in those transactions must suffer. At an earlier period than that mentioned by the right hon. gentleman—namely, August 15, 1828—Count Itabayana had applied to Lord Aberdeen for permission to export one hundred and fifty barrels of gunpowder and a quantity of muskets to Brazil. Lord Aberdeen replied that he would grant that permission provided the arms and powder were not intended to be employed in the civil dissensions of Portugal; that if the Emperor of Brazil had determined to attempt to conquer Portugal, England would not interfere; and he therefore required a bona fide declaration as to the manner in which the arms and powder were to be employed. Count Itabayana's answer was, that he did not hesitate to give a clear and precise reply, and that there was no intention of so employing them. In consequence of this answer, Lord Aberdeen gave the permission desired: but the arms and powder were, notwithstanding this declaration, instantly transported to Terceira. Therefore when application was made to the Government for permission for the troops to leave this country for Terceira, they said, 'We have been already deceived; you profess to sail as unarmed men, but you will find arms on your arrival at Terceira.' They did, however, sail, and the right hon. gentleman had asked what right we had to stop them on the high seas? He would tell the House that they sailed with false clearances, which were obtained at the Custom-house as for Gibraltar, for Virginia, and other places; but the vessels really went to Terceira. Now, he begged the House to consider, and to decide on this statement of the case, and he would ask, whether it were consistent with the character of England to permit a military body thus to wage war from our ports with a Power with which we were not at war? We did not recognize Don Miguel, it was true; but we were not at war with Portugal. We still maintained commercial relations with that country, and had a consul there. It was too much for Brazil to desire to place us in a different situation with Portugal from that in which she was herself placed with that country; for she also had a consul there. We had no reason to believe that Don Pedro meditated a conquest of any part of the Portuguese dominions, and the question was, whether private individuals were to be permitted to carry on hostilities with Portugal from Plymouth. The duty of neutrality was as strong in respect to a de facto government as to one de jure. It was inconsistent with neutrality to permit an armed force to remain in this country. In addition to the Portuguese troops at Plymouth, three hundred Germans were enlisted in the north of Europe to reinforce them. Was this to be tolerated? When the Portuguese refugees went to Spain, we required that the officers should be separated from the men, and because Spain refused we prepared to go to war, and actually sent five thousand men to enforce our demand. Was it the policy of England to prevent the dismemberment of the Portuguese Empire? In 1825 we stipulated that Portugal should be separated from Brazil; so that motives of policy as well as neutrality called upon us to discourage these attempts, and above all to prevent this country from being made the arena for the designs of other Powers. What was to prevent Russia and France from making a similar use of our ports?

He would now leave the House to decide whether the Government of England was not right in preventing its manifest intention being defeated by false clearances and false assurances. These were the facts of the case, and he was satisfied that the character of England had been vindicated by not allowing its ports to be made subservient to such designs. These were the principles upon which the Government had acted. The officer who had been entrusted with the naval expedition to Terceira, had acted with the utmost forbearance. He gave ample warning; and it was not until a passage was attempted to be forced that he reluctantly fired a shot, which killed one man and wounded another. Having now given the explanations which the right hon. gentleman required, he came to his motion. It was impossible not to acknowledge the forbearance of the House with regard to the discussion of foreign affairs—a forbearance dictated by a sense of the delicacy of interfering with pending negotiations, and pre-judging measures; yet he had no hesitation in saying, that he was perfectly prepared to acquiesce in the motion of the right hon. gentleman, and probably the right hon. gentleman, instead of confining it to a call for certain papers, would allow his motion to stand as it appeared in the notice paper—'for copies or extracts of communications concerning the relations between this country and Her Most Faithful Majesty the Queen of Portugal'; and he assured him that every paper connected with the Queen of Portugal, which it was consistent with the duty of Ministers to produce, should be most readily given.

At a subsequent period of the debate, Mr. Peel said that the British Government had not recently made any proposition for the completion of the marriage between Don Miguel and Donna Maria, nor had it ever made any such proposition at any time except with the cordial concurrence of the Emperor of Brazil. The moment the Emperor intimated an objection to the marriage, all communication on the subject on the part of the British Government ceased. No proposition for the renewal of the proceedings would be made unless with the entire concurrence of the Emperor of Brazil.

SIR ROBERT PEEL JULY 16, 1832 BELGIUM

The noble lord said that the payment to Russia was made for services done and performed by Russia, which were notorious, and which required no explanation. But did the House remember the pathetic appeal of the Solicitor-General? 'Oh!' said the Solicitor-General, 'if you had seen what I have seen, if you had had access to the pile of documents I have waded through, you would have no hesitation in granting the money.' When the House asked for a sight of these convincing documents, the noble lord got up and quoted to them Hansard's Parliamentary Debates and the Reports of Lord Castlereagh's and Lord Liverpool's speeches. He never could believe that the documents so pathetically alluded to by the Solicitor-General were two speeches of Lord Liverpool and Lord Londonderry to which every human being had access in that most excellent work. If the noble lords wished to convince the House that they had acted correctly in this transaction, let them produce the official document on which their judgement professed to be founded. It was vain for them to rely upon a majority of forty-six, vain for them to call a motion for information factious. The only sufficient answer would be the production of the documents. But the noble lord said it was extremely clear that the money was to be paid to Russia for past services performed; why, then, did the noble lord require a new convention? The preamble of the second convention certainly referred to the first, and it expressly recited it, but nothing whatever could be found in it about the past services of Russia. It stated the consideration to be the adhesion of Russia to the general arrangements of the Congress of Vienna. If it were true that the original payment to Russia was made on account of services rendered to the general cause of Europe and sacrifices made by Russia, why did the second convention allege that the equivalent which England was to receive from Russia in return for the continued payments was this, that Russia would not contract any new engagement respecting Belgium, without a previous agreement with His Britannic Majesty, and his formal assent? Where, then, was the justification of the assertion that the two treaties were founded upon the same consideration? The Government gave to the House conflicting documents. The one corresponded not with the other. The noble lord contended that the money was due to Russia for old services. Then why the new condition in the second convention? The preamble bound Russia, in consideration of the continuance of the payment, to identify her policy with that of England with respect to Holland. That, he contended, was entirely a new condition, and how could it be maintained that, if the money was fairly due to Russia for former services performed, it was now just to impose upon Russia, as a condition of payment, that she should change her policy with regard to Holland so often as the policy of this country was changed? The question has been repeatedly asked, was this money to be ultimately paid or not? He would say this: unquestionably it was to be paid, if the country was bound to its payment by good faith. He would not tarnish the fair fame of the country for any sum whatever, upon any occasion, but more especially upon an occasion on which England had received a valuable consideration. When we incurred this responsibility on the behalf of Holland, we received from that country the colonies of the Cape of Good Hope, Demerara, Essequibo, and Berbice; we still retained those colonies, they were valuable possessions, and therefore we were the more strictly bound not to shrink from any equitable obligation we had incurred. He agreed with his hon. friends that the money might be due from England; but to whom ought it to be paid? He could by no means admit that the first convention justified the second as a matter of course; but still there might be circumstances, not at present known to the House, which would still call for the continued payment to Russia, and authorize the new convention: but what those circumstances were, the House had a right to know before it was called upon to ratify the convention. The noble lord said, this country was bound to continue the payment to Russia by the good faith that Power had evinced. It appeared that, when the separation was about to take place between Holland and Belgium, Russia said, 'I am ready to fulfil the treaty; my troops shall march upon Belgium, to continue the incorporation.' 'Oh! no,' said England, 'our policy is altered; we wish the separation to take place.' 'Very well,' was the reply of Russia, 'continue to me the payment, and I am ready to subscribe to your policy with respect to Holland and Belgium.' Such might be the fact; but, if it were, it ought to be established. The documents proving that to be the case ought to be in the possession of the House before it was called upon to ratify the treaty. The King might make a new treaty under a new system of policy, but it was for the House to say, in a case in which the payment of money was concerned, whether it would enable the King to execute such a treaty. If it were proved that this country had induced Russia, by a promise of the continuance of the payment, to act in the manner she had done, that gave rise to a new case, and a new convention was necessary, the policy of which depended upon many mixed considerations. He had said, he was not free from doubts as to whom the money ought to be paid. An hon. member (Mr. Gisborne), who had argued the question ably, had said that Holland was badly used; but the same hon. member contended that England was exonerated from making the payment to Holland on account of the unjust and impolitic conduct of that country to Belgium. That argument appeared to him most unsatisfactory. The hon. member admitted that Holland had a right to refuse to pay her part of the loan to Russia. Let him suppose that the whole of the loan had been payable by Holland, and that that country had retained possession of the colonies she had given up to this country; how then would the case stand? If Holland was justified in refusing to pay a portion of the loan, surely she would, in the case he was supposing, be equally justified in refusing to pay the whole; and, therefore, if this country had not been put in possession of the Dutch colonies, Holland would have retained her colonies and would have no debt to pay. But England had the colonies, and to what Power then, according to the reasoning of the hon. member, ought England to make the payment of her portion of the loan? Surely to Holland. It might be very convenient, for ensuring Russian acquiescence, to make the payment to Russia, but certainly, according to the reasoning of the hon. member (Mr. Gisborne), it was anything but just. But he never would admit that Holland had behaved with harshness or injustice to Belgium, or that the revolt was justifiable by the conduct of Holland. The revolution in Belgium followed as a consequence from the revolution in France. If the French Revolution had not occurred, they would have heard nothing of the separation of Belgium from Holland; and we had no pretext in the misconduct of Holland for exonerating ourselves from our pecuniary obligations to that country. He wished not to enter upon the question of the policy pursued by His Majesty's Government with respect to Belgium; but he could not help smiling when he heard an hon. member contend that to place Prince Leopold on the throne of Belgium was a matter of great advantage to this country; because, forsooth, that prince had formerly been allied to a daughter of the King of England. What did the hon. member think of the alliance which the King of Belgium was now about to form? If a matrimonial alliance, that had now ceased fifteen years, was to have so powerful an influence over King Leopold's politics, what did the hon. member think would be the effect of a marriage with one of the daughters of the King of the French? If the former connexion had made Leopold an English prince, would not the new connexion make him a French prince, and would not all the advantages of placing him on the throne, which were expected to belong to England, in reality belong to France? He implored the Government not to drive the House to a premature discussion of those matters. The payment could not rest upon the old convention, but must depend upon the new, mixed up with considerations arising out of the old. The Government had been rescued from a vote of censure, and might, therefore, without difficulty, consent to a postponement of the question. He asked not for an indefinite postponement, but as long a one as the duration of the session would authorize. A premature discussion on Belgian affairs was open to great objection. It was true that the five Powers had agreed to the separation, and had recognized King Leopold, but it was also true that none of the necessary arrangements were yet completed. The last article of the convention clearly proved that the period for decision on the merits of that convention had not yet arrived. It assigned, as the reason of the convention, the preservation of the peace of Europe. How did they know the peace of Europe would be preserved? He hoped to God it might, but, under the present circumstances, it was utterly impossible to affirm that it would. He wished not to enter upon that question; he wished not to say a word upon the conduct of this country with respect to Belgium. On the contrary, he, and those who acted with him, had carefully, upon all occasions, abstained from provoking debate on the question of Belgium. He had strong feelings upon the subject, but he had been unwilling to enter into a premature discussion. These negotiations were drawing to their close, and whether they would end for good or evil the march of time would soon disclose. Holland had been told that by July 20 she must concur in the treaty, or force would be employed to compel her assent; and with such a declaration was it decent or wise to call upon the Parliament to ratify the convention now before the House? He had no doubt as to what the conduct of Russia would be; he had no doubt that she would keep her engagements to England respecting Belgium: but why should they be called upon to sanction the new convention until the negotiations now pending, as to the future relations between Holland and Belgium, were brought to a close. There were rumours that a French and English fleet were to be united for the purpose of constraining Holland to submit to the treaty. He trusted such was not the case; but, if it were, it was most unfair, in such a state of affairs, to compel a decision by the House of Commons as to the policy of a new pecuniary engagement to Russia. With respect to the alleged conduct of Russia to Poland, he was glad to find that all agreed in thinking that that subject had no connexion with the present. He had heard some statements in the House respecting the conduct of Russia to the Poles, and he believed many of them to be unfounded in fact. It had been stated that thousands of children had been torn from their parents, and banished into Siberia; he had expressed his disbelief of that assertion, and he had since been informed, on good authority, that those children were orphans—made orphans, he regretted to say, by the calamities of war—and that they had been placed in Russian schools, not for the purpose of separating them from their parents, for they had none, but for the purpose of providing for them in their helplessness, and giving them education. So viewed, that which, under another aspect, appeared an act of gross cruelty, might be a humane proceeding. He was thankful to the House for the attention with which it had heard him, at so late an hour, and concluded by entreating the Government not to drive the House to a division. If it obtained another small majority, that majority would not convince the country that the conduct of Ministers had been justifiable.