There has not been in this century any foreign peace or war, in its
origin, the fruit of popular desire; except the war that was made with
Spain in 1739. Sir Robert Walpole was forced into the war by the people,
who were inflamed to this measure by the most leading politicians, by
the first orators, and the greatest poets, of the time. For that war,
Pope sung his dying notes. For that war, Johnson, in more energetic
strains, employed the voice of his early genius. For that war, Glover
distinguished himself in the way in which his muse was the most natural
and happy. The crowd readily followed the politicians in the cry for
a war, which threatened little bloodshed, and which promised victories
that were attended with something more solid than glory. A war with
Spain was a war of plunder. In the present conflict with regicide, Mr.
Pitt has not hitherto had, nor will, perhaps, for a few days have, many
prizes to hold out in the lottery of war, to attempt the lower part of
our character. He can only maintain it by an appeal to the higher; and
to those, in whom that higher part is the most predominant, he must
look the most for his support. Whilst he holds out no inducements to
the wise, nor bribes to the avaricious, he may be forced by a vulgar cry
into a peace ten times more ruinous than the most disastrous war. The
weaker he is in the fund of motives which apply to our avarice, to our
laziness, and to our lassitude, if he means to carry the war to any end
at all, the stronger he ought to be in his addresses to our magnanimity
and to our reason.
In stating that Walpole was driven by a popular clamour into a measure
not to be justified, I do not mean wholly to excuse his conduct. My time
of observation did not exactly coincide with that event: but I read much
of the controversies then carried on. Several years after the contests
of parties had ceased, the people were amused, and in a degree warmed,
with them. The events of that era seemed then of magnitude, which the
revolutions of our time have reduced to parochial importance; and the
debates, which then shook the nation, now appear of no higher moment
than a discussion in a vestry. When I was very young, a general fashion
told me I was to admire some of the writings against that minister; a
little more maturity taught me as much to despise them. I observed
one fault in his general proceeding. He never manfully put forward the
entire strength of his cause. He temporised, he managed, and, adopting
very nearly the sentiments of his adversaries, he opposed their
inferences. This, for a political commander, is the choice of a weak
post. His adversaries had the better of the argument, as he handled it,
not as the reason and justice of his cause enabled him to manage it. I
say this, after having seen, and with some care examined, the original
documents concerning certain important transactions of those times. They
perfectly satisfied me of the extreme injustice of that war, and of
the falsehood of the colours which, to his own ruin, and guided by a
mistaken policy, he suffered to be daubed over that measure. Some years
after, it was my fortune to converse with many of the principal actors
against that minister, and with those who principally excited that
clamour. None of them, no not one, did in the least defend the measure,
or attempt to justify their conduct. They condemned it as freely as they
would have done in commenting upon any proceeding in history, in which
they were totally unconcerned. Thus it will be. They who stir up the
people to improper desires, whether of peace or war, will be condemned
by themselves. They who weakly yield to them will be condemned by
history.