Chapter 13

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.