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?