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.