Mr. Secretary Canningappeared at the bar. Being called upon by the Speaker, he said he held in his hand Papers, which be was commanded by his Majesty to present to the House. The said Papers being accordingly brought up,
Mr. Secretary Canningrose. He said, that in moving that their titles be read, he should, with the permission of the House, take advantage of the opportunity afforded by that formal motion, to redeem the pledge which he had given some weeks ago, by stating succinctly the course of conduct which had been pursued by his majesty's government, and the principles by which that conduct had been guided, in the important and complicated transactions to which the documents referred. In doing so, he felt that he was discharging a duty as awfully important as could at any time devolve upon the servant of a great monarchy and the minister of a free people. He was to account to the representatives of that people, for the manner in which the honour of the Crown had been upheld, and the interests of the country consulted, in a crisis of perhaps unexampled difficulty, and of which the consequences were yet unascertained. He mentioned this last consideration, because it was impossible not to be sensible, how much it added to the arduous nature of the task imposed upon him. If, indeed, the complete issue of all that had been recently passing had been known, it would be necessary only to shape the explanation and defence to that issue so ascertained; but he felt that 873 the present state of the affairs of the world was of such unexampled magnitude and difficulty, that what had been the course of conduct pursued by the British government would be judged not only in reference to any one definite issue, but in reference to ail imaginable possibilities and to all anticipated dangers. In a case so complicated, and dealing with considerations so important, there could exist but one consciousness to sustain any man in the onerous situation in which he was placed—it was that of having pursued, throughout the whole series of transactions, one intelligible object, one invariable principle. The object which the king's government had had constantly in view, was the preservation of the peace of the world: the principle by which they had been guided in the pursuit of that object, had been clearly stated on a former day by an hon. and learned friend (sir J. Mackintosh) whom he was grieved not to see upon the benches opposite. He meant, respect for the faith of treaties—respect for the independence of nations—respect for that established line of policy known by the name of "the balance of power," in Europe—and last and not least, respect for the honour and interests of this country.
Before he proceeded to the narrative of the course of these transactions, he would take the liberty shortly to recall the recollection of the House to what was the state of Europe, and of this kingdom in relation to it, in the month of September last, when those transactions originated. There was at that date pending a meeting of the sovereigns of Europe, or rather a meeting of some of the leading sovereigns of Europe, such as had occurred on two or three previous occasions, to consult generally on their affairs, and specifically on the preservation of peace. About that time he had had the honour of receiving the seals of the office he now filled. It was not with the intention of separating himself in any degree from those who preceded him in it, nor with the desire of claiming to himself any merit that belonged to them, that he now felt himself called upon to repeat what he had stated on a former day, and what had beer much misunderstood—narrowed by some and extended by others—that, applicable to the considerations on which the congress was to be employed, he had found in the records of his office (and it was also it the records of the country, and known to 874 all the world) a state paper, laying down the principle of non-interference, with all the qualifications properly belonging to it. When, therefore, with whatever degree of courtesy, it had been ascribed to him, that he had applied new principles to a new case, he had thought it but just to remind the House of a fact, of which it was indeed already in possession. The principle of non-interference with the independence of foreign states was laid down in the document to which he alluded, as broadly, clearly, and definitively, as it was possible for any statesman to wish to lay it down.
Having said thus much, he should perhaps surprise the House, when he stated, that in going to the congress of Verona it was not in contemplation, that that question which turned out to be the most important topic agitated at that meeting—he meant the case of Spain—would be the immediate object of the assembly. So much so, that the House would find among the papers now submitted, that the very first number, being a dispatch from the duke of Wellington, on his arrival at Paris, showed that his grace had been under the necessity of asking for instructions respecting the case of Spain. The matter of which it was expected that the congress would take cognisance, and to which the preparation of instructions had been particularly directed was, the state of affairs in the east of Europe, and the complicated transactions between Russia and Turkey. It was only on his arrival in Paris, that the duke of Wellington found that the affairs of Spain were likely to occupy a most important place in the deliberations of the congress at Verona. He accordingly, as had been mentioned, applied to him (Mr. Canning) for specific instructions on this point; and in reference to them he would in this, and only in one other instance, refer to the papers about to be laid upon the table. The requisition of the duke of Wellington—(who left London, as far as he (Mr. C.) recollected, within about 48 hours after he had accepted the seals of the foreign office)—was dated from Paris on the 21st of Sept., and the instructions transmitted in consequence were in the following terms:—" If there be a determined project to interfere by force or by menace in the present struggle in Spain, so convinced are his majesty's government of the uselessness and danger of any such interference, objectionable does it 875 appear to them in principle, as well as utterly impracticable in execution, that when the necessity arises, or (I would rather say) when the opportunity offers, I am to instruct your grace at once frankly and peremptorily to declare that, to any such interference, come what may, his majesty will not be party." With such instructions the duke of Wellington left Paris for Verona. The House would see, that the instructions did not go into much detail, nor did they admit any qualification; they were positive and peremptory; and from them the duke of Wellington for one moment had never swerved. In making this statement, he incidentally met an objection that had been put with great force as well as ingenuity by an hon. gentleman opposite on a former night; viz. that if England went to congress with a view to discuss the affairs of Spain, England ought to have taken care that Spain was a party to that congress. The hon. gentleman and the House would, however, see, that England went, in the first instance, with no expectation that a prominent part in the deliberations would belong to the affairs of Spain. From the moment it was known that they would be so brought forward, the course of instruction to the British plenipotentiary had been distinct, positive, and peremptory, not to be party to any discussions, or rather to the issue of any discussions, if that issue were hostile measures against Spain. So far was the British government from any expectation that a proposition of a nature hostile to Spain would be made by France, that there was every previous reason for believing that France would be the last quarter from which it would come. It was not among the documents to be laid on the table, nor was it of a sort that it could be laid there; but it was in the memory of every body—it was among the papers published all over Europe—and was therefore a matter publici juris, that the king of France, on the 5th June 1822, declared, in allusion to the force he had stationed on his Pyrenean frontier, that the precaution thus adopted had kept contagion from his provinces, although it had ravaged a great part of Spain; that with the same object only he meant to maintain the forces he had stationed; and that nothing but malveillance—nothing but ill-will and calumny—could find a pretext for giving this precautionary measure a different purpose. Such, un- 876 doubtedly, was the distinct statement in the last document France had issued with relation to the affairs of Spain; and he mentioned it now, not with a view of inculpation, or for the sake of drawing inferences of an unfavourable nature, but to account for the fact, that the instructions of the British government were not, in the first instance, framed with a view to meet hostile propositions with respect to Spain, on the part of the French government. It was but just to state, that when the congress of Verona met, and when the propositions of the French government regarding Spain were brought forward, they were not directed to a hostile object—they were in their nature purely defensive, conditional, and hypothetical. They did not then call for the assistance of the allies to bring half Europe into the field against Spain: the French plenipotentiary contented himself with asking merely, what would be the conduct of the allies in given cases, which cases all presupposed some active offence, in the first instance, on the part of Spain. To these propositions, or, more correctly speaking, to these inquiries, answers were given on the part of three of the continental powers, professing their readiness to countenance, and if necessary to support, France in the so specified cases, contingent and precautionary, but not in their nature offensive. But to these pro positions, however limited, the British plenipotentiary gave no such answer: in the replies of the three other states, however cautious and conditional, he did not concur. He said that he was precluded from entering into any hypothetical engagement, which might commit his country, in cases unforeseen, and to an extent not to be calculated. He demanded, before he was called upon to give even a hypothetical concurrence to a hypothetical promise in a hypothetical case, that he should be informed, distinctly and practically, what offence Spain had actually given to France, and what were the grounds of future offence anticipated by France. He absolutely refused to give the smallest countenance to the imagination of a case, on which, should it occur, he might be called upon to pledge his government to eventual co-operation and concert. The congress of Verona, during the weeks of its sitting, discussed the question in all its bearings; but the language of the duke of Wellington had been the same on the last day of meeting 877 as on the first—a positive refusal to concur in any such measure—a positive refusal to give any answer to the inquiries of France—a positive refusal to have any thing to do with interference, by force or menace, in the internal affairs of Spain. When, at the conclusion of the congress, the three great continental powers had agreed with France to transmit, to their ministers at Madrid several dispatches, remonstrating with Spain on the state of her institutions, and calling for changes in there as the price of their continued friendship and forbearance, the British plenipotentiary declined any participation in that proceeding, and declared, on the part of his sovereign, that all he could do would be to continue his minister at Madrid when the others were withdrawn, in the hope of abating the irritation such a hostile measure must occasion, and of preventing the evil by friendly counsel and assistance.
So broke up the congress at Verona. The plenipotentiary of France left it to return to Paris, to consider what step his government would take more in advance than the rest of the continental allies: the plenipotentiaries of the continental allies, to prepare their dispatches for Madrid, which would not form a part of the papers upon the table, because they were not at all within the jurisdiction of this country, although they were well known, having been printed in all the gazettes of Europe: the British plenipotentiary, to renew at Paris the remonstrances he had ineffectually made at Verona, and, in the last resort, to report to his government his disappointment, if disappointment it should be, in order that to the minister at Madrid instructions might be sent to disavow, on the part of this country, any participation in these proceedings; but at the same time to advise, and strenuously implore, that the slightest excess might be studiously avoided, which could retrospectively justify, or prospectively encourage, the war threatened by France. The duke of Wellington returned to Paris about the beginning of December. The French government, far from being found in a more warlike disposition, were, on the contrary, whether on reconsideration or from what other motive did not belong to him to speculate, inclined to maintain peace. The British plenipotentiary found the French ministry disposed to send back to Verona, at least to the 878 sovereigns who had not then actually quitted that city, the dispatches prepared for Madrid, and to entreat them to reconsider the contents of those dispatches, and the impropriety of the time for sending them. Such was the first report received from the duke of Wellington. Up to this period, no communication whatever had taken place between this country and Spain, on the subject of what was passing at Verona; and he would shortly explain to the House why no such intercourse had occurred. Hon. gentlemen might remember, that towards the end of the last session of parliament the clamour, the just clamour, and complaint in this country had been raised, respecting the state of our commercial navigation in the West Indies. Pirate-vessels, some bearing the flag of the independent but unacknowledged colonies of Spain, and others of Spain herself, had committed the most grievous depredations on British trade, to an enormous amount, and attended with circumstances of such violence and cruelty, as to call for national interposition. He (Mr. C.) recollected these matters well; because it had been his duty, as the representative of a great commercial town, to bring forward the case in that House, and to remonstrate against what was considered the supineness, or at least the forbearance, with which the strength of this country had been withheld from the assertion of its own rights and interests; those rights having been shamefully abused, and those interests seriously injured. Not long, therefore, after parliament rose, it had been thought necessary by the British government to send orders, and therewith an armament, to the West Indies, to take into our own hands that redress which had been in vain sought by representation and remonstrance at Madrid. Orders were given to the commander, in the event of the owners of pirate vessels continuing to find refuge on the shores of Cuba, that, after first communicating with the Spanish governor of the island, and asking his assistance—if assistance he could give—then conjointly, or, upon his refusal, separately, to effect a landing in Cuba, to root out the nest of marauders that infested those seas and impeded our commerce and navigation. In giving these orders, and in taking this step, he hoped it was unnecessary to say, that the British government had thought it right to communicate the course it had pursued 879 to the cabinet at Madrid. But this was not at all. About the same time, pretensions were revived by commanders on the Spanish main, pretensions utterly obsolete, waved and forgotten for many years, to declare constructive blockades of the whole coast of what was Spanish America, and to capture all trading vessels that should presume to violate these blockades. Many instances, recent and flagrant, had occurred, in which the laws of these blockades had been rigorously carried into execution, and outrages of the same sort had been continued, more or less, for many preceding years. Almost from the year 1815, there had been a series of unanswered representations of unredressed grievance preferred to the court of Madrid, which it was at length thought expedient, avoiding if possible angry discussion, to bring directly to a point. That justice was on the side of the British complaints might be inferred from the circumstance, that after negotiation redress was finally accorded; and that the amount of the grievance was not small, might be gathered from the sum the Spanish government itself appropriated to the liquidation of the claim, being about half a million sterling. This did not amount to the whole of the demand; but it showed, at least, the estimate of Spain, as to what might turn out to be just. The business on which sir W. A'Court, our minister at Madrid, was first employed there was in the making these remonstrances, and in urging—successfully urging—the redress it was necessary to afford. He was to communicate to the Spanish government; first, the instructions with regard to Cuba; and secondly, the further fact, that the armament had been sent to the West Indies, with orders to make reprisals if our maritime rights should not be observed. Redress was promised on the part of Spain, and instructions were accordingly sent out to sir John Owen. Remonstrance having been once made, redress once claimed, and satisfaction accorded, no hostile feeling could possibly remain on the part of this country. But the House would see, that it was not in the midst of negotiations like these, that it would have been either delicate or proper towards Spain to have entered into discussions, or rather to have made declarations, of the part Great Britain was taking on behalf of European Spain. This country had pursued two courses of 880 action: on the one hand, it had claimed of Spain redress for injuries inflicted by her South American colonies; and on the other, she had defended Spain against an invasion by European powers. The British government well knew, that a time must come when a disclosure of the latter course might be made to the ministry at Madrid; and by a coincidence in point of time, it was at the close of the congress at Verona, that our negotiations for redress had been brought to a favourable conclusion.
He would now take the liberty of drawing the attention of the House to one particular circumstance. He had seen in various quarters, and had heard from different persons, that some offence had been given to Spain by sending sir W. A'Court to represent his majesty at Madrid. It happened, whimsically enough, that about the time when sir W. A'Court's name was thus brought forward with obloquy in this country—not about the time he set off for Madrid, for he had proceeded thither long before his (Mr. C.'s) appointment, and he had nothing more than the slightest personal acquaintance with him,—about the time when sir W. A'Court's appointment to Spain was represented as the greatest grievance to that country, the ministers of the three allied powers called upon him (Mr. Canning) in Downing-street, to make representations against sending him out, as giving countenance to Spain. It was somewhat difficult to steer between these two difficulties: but the answer to the ministers was very short and simple—that sir W. A'Court was gone—that there he was, and there he must remain. Undoubtedly, he could well believe, that the course of negotiation in which sir W. A'Court was first employed—that of an obdurate and pressing creditor, calling up obsolete demands, and enforcing a speedy settlement—could not tend to make him very popular with the Spanish government, which was every day suffering under his applications; while that government was not yet aware of the course Great Britain had pursued in the European negotiations. It might be very readily imagined, that sir W. A'Court might have made an impression in the Spanish capital, unfavourable to his official, but not to his personal character. As soon as the general understanding, that no interference in the affairs of Spain should take place was abandoned—as 881 soon, in short, as it was clear, that the issue of the negotiations at Verona must become publicly known—so soon, communication was made to Madrid of the line this country had pursued in those negotiations. It was then unequivocally shown, that while sir W. A'Court had been employed in this obdurate and unpopular character, the British government, through their plenipotentiary at Verona, had been anxiously engaged in securing the national independence of Spain. From that time, the feeling with respect to sir W. A'Court at Madrid was completely changed. Before this disclosure of the discussions at Verona was made to Spain—while she was yet uncertain what steps had been taken at congress—an application was made on the part of the Spanish government; first, to ascertain what the precise course of negotiations had been; and next, to interest this country to employ her good offices for the maintenance of peace. In making this application, which, being in writing, formed part of the papers on the table, pains were distinctly taken to make it appear, that the good offices she asked were not inconsistent with the most strictly-conceived system of neutrality. She asked counsel and mediation—that Great Britain should offer her advice to one friend, on behalf of another. Spain required no proceeding that could trench upon our neutrality; but rather, such a course as would entitle the power intervening, to the thanks of France, as well as to the gratitude of Spain. Upon receiving this application, his majesty's government hesitated not a moment to write to the duke of Wellington, then expected at Paris, and to direct his grace to offer to the French government the mediation of Great Britain for the amicable settlement of the disputes with Spain. The French government, after some negotiation, declined the offer thus made; stating as the reason, that the grounds of difference between France and Spain were not grounds of that distinct and definite kind, that admitted of exact specification and practical adjustment; that they grew out of the state of things in which the two kingdoms found themselves; and out of the influence which what was passing in Spain had upon the internal tranquillity of his most Christian majesty's dominions: that the two nations had, in fact, got into such a condition towards each other of reciprocal jealousy and irritation 882 that rather than submit to all the inconveniences of such a situation, war would be the preferable alternative, as affording at least some ultimate solution. It seemed to the British government, that the position of affairs admitted of a reciprocation of good offices; and both at Madrid and Paris, a course of interposition would have been pursued which might have rendered war unnecessary. He (Mr. C.) admitted, that here was a case in which it might have been quite usual to say to both parties, that without something more specific on either side, some sensible and tangible cause of complaint—some exact claim of redress on the part of the country supposed to be aggrieved—it would be better for Great Britain not to interfere; that she had done all that she thought she could do with each party; and that, as her efforts had been attended hitherto with no success, she begged leave to withdraw from further interposition. Such a course was quite open to the British government; but, as every thing that was stated on both sides was accompanied with the most solemn assurance of a pacific disposition; and as the British ministry did entertain—what from that moment to the present it had never ceased to feel—an alarm beyond any former occasion of the danger of war, not only to Spain but to France, and through France to Europe, it became a question very material to be debated, whether, while there remained the slightest chance of success, it was not our duty to make a further effort, being the only power through whom it was possible that the effort should be made.
It was, therefore, determined to ascertain what might yet be done; and there was this advantage in the present situation of affairs, as compared with the state of Europe at the opening of the congress of Verona—that questions were now reduced to the differences between France and Spain. The dispatcher from the three continental powers had been sent; and their ministers had been withdrawn the cases foreseen at Verona, in which alone the powers were bound to interpose on behalf of France, had none of them occurred. It was a matter, therefore, merely between France and Spain; and it was for this country to decide, whether it would or would not take a step which might prevent the occurrence of war; but which could not widen the breach and increase the danger. Under these cir- 883 cumstances, his majesty's ministers determined to interpose their good offices on behalf of Spain; and their anxiety, in so interposing, was to distinguish their conduct, not only from that which the continental powers in their several dispatches had displayed towards Spain—not only from that which France, in the speech of her minister, had likewise declared her determination to pursue; but to distinguish it also, by the channel through which it was made, from every species of interference that was not made upon the most friendly terms. The channel through which it was made was the duke of Wellington. That illustrious individual—if ever man did earn it from a foreign state—had earned from Spain the right to be considered as her friend. For years he had sustained her liberties in the field, and ultimately had rendered them triumphant over every difficulty. In his diplomatic character, too, he had recently asserted the same principles in her behalf, which he had formerly had occasion to vindicate for her in the field; and that independence, which he had once conquered for her by his sword, he had latterly endeavoured to preserve to her by his negotiations. If ever there was an individual that was entitled to deliver his opinions to a foreign nation, without any suspicion being entertained of the purity of his motives, it was the individual who had performed such services, and who, in consequence, had been incorporated as well by gratitude as adoption, among the benefactors of the Spanish nation. The opinions which that distinguished character offered to the consideration of the Spaniards, were opinions Which his private friends were aware that he had long entertained; and they were offered to them in a way that took from them every appearance of arrogance and insult. It was through the medium of a confidential friend, who had formerly been his companion in arms in the Peninsula, and afterwards his assistant in the deliberations at Verona, that the opinions of the duke of Wellington were stated in Madrid in terms which, though they were not put together with all the finesse of diplomacy, still expressed his meaning in the most frank and explicit manner. It was after pain had asked for the interference of the British government, and had obtained; it on the express stipulation that its interposition was not to be considered as inconsistent with the most strict neutrality, 884 —it was after France had stated, that vas through the good offices of the British government that she looked for any thing like an accommodation of her differences with Spain—it was whilst the British government entertained a sincere belief that is interference would lead to a pacific and lot to a hostile issue—it was under such circumstances, that the duke of Wellington, not declaring either this or that mode of conciliation to be the price at which the friendship of England was to be purchased, but echoing, as he supposed, the opinions of a great majority of the Spanish nation, addressed himself, through the medium of lord Fitzroy Somerset, his confidential friend, to those who swayed the destinies of Spain, and left them to accept or reject his advice as they in their wisdom should think proper to determine. Looking at this transaction three months after its occurrence, and with a knowledge of every thing which had since occurred, he did not know exactly how he should decide, supposing the question were now put to him whether he should try this chance again, or throw it away as undeserving of attention; but this be did know, that, supposing he had decided not to avail himself of this chance, and war had then ensued, he should hare found a difficulty in justifying himself to the world for not trying one means of averting it, which, if used, might have perhaps rescued Europe from the calamities in which it was now going to be plunged, and of which no man could foresee the extent, or limit the duration.
Having made these observations, he would now proceed with his details. Lord Fitzroy Somerset quitted this country, as the bearer of a confidential communication to the Spanish government from the duke of Wellington, about the first week in January. Before he proceeded farther, he wished to remind the House that the application which was made from Spain for the interference of the British government was made early in the month of November; that the offer of our mediation, which was made to France in the month of September, was not finally rejected till some time in the ensuing November; and that a correspondence of some length took place upon the subject; into the particulars of which he should not then enter, for this plain reason—that the whole of them were to be found in the papers which he was directed by his majesty to lay upon the table of the 885 House. He must now proceed to state, that not many weeks after lord Fitzroy Somerset had set out for Spain, an event occurred, which, he must confess, shook very strongly his hopes of bringing about any accommodation between the governments of France and of Spain—he alluded to the extraordinary speech with which the French ministers thought proper to open the chambers. Of the construction to which the words of that speech were liable, and which indeed they most naturally bore, there was not a man in the House who thought with more disgust and abhorrence than he did. If that speech were to be understood as the plain meaning of the words in which it was couched naturally suggested; namely, that the Spanish people were to be called upon to consent to certain modifications in their constitution—not because it was faulty in itself—not because it contained particulars which rendered it dangerous to neighbouring states, and unsafe even to the prince who ruled by it—but because it was not an emanation from the Crown—it was clear, on the one hand, that no Spaniard, who had the slightest regard to the independence of his country, could consent either to modify, or to hear a modification proposed of that constitution; and, on the other, that no British statesman, who valued his character as a member of a free state, could either think, or hear of his country being made a party to negotiations for the purpose of discussing such monstrous proposals. Not a week, no, not even a day, was lost in conveying to France the expression of these sentiments on the part of the British government; and in telling her, that if such was the meaning of the speech in question, there was an end to all further negotiations, at least through a British channel—that British intervention must be considered as closed—that the principle avowed, was one which a British statesman could not acknowledge—that it struck directly at the root of the British constitution—and that as it could not be accepted as part of the British code of law, it could not be recommended by a British statesman to the acceptance of any other. The ministers of France were likewise told, as Great Britain did not put forward her own political institutions as the model on which those of other states were to be framed, or as the only system from which national freedom and happiness could flow; so neither could she 886 allow France to make her own example a rule for other nations, much less to force that example upon Spain, in virtue of the consanguinity of the reigning dynasties of the two Countries. It was however added, that if this construction were disavowed, the negotiations might still continue. The French government, it was only right to state, did subsequently disavow this obnoxious construction, and adopted another, which, he was free to confess, the words were not altogether qualified to bear. The negotiations in consequence proceeded; and it was at this period that ministers, when interrogated on the subject in parliament, had felt themselves bound to declare, that they had considerable hopes of bringing them to a successful termination: for, however extraordinary it might appear, it was nevertheless strictly true, that when the speech of the king of France was communicated to him (Mr. C.) by the French Chargé d'Affaires in this country, it was accompanied by a more profuse communication of the desires of the French government for accommodation, and by a more profuse declaration of their wishes for the good services of the British government, in producing that accommodation, than had ever been made at any previous stage of the transactions. It was not surprising that the effect which the French government had anticipated had been produced upon the British government by the communications which they then made to it; but it was surprising, that the French government, by some strange and unaccountable delusion, and in spite of all the remonstrances which his majesty's ministers had made to them on the subject, should have ever thought, and indeed should still continue to think, that in publishing the document which they had done, they had hit a chord which could not fail to vibrate at Madrid, and that they had put forward a specific which could not fail to cure all the evils which prevailed within its meridian. The thing itself was so strange and singular, that the House would be inclined to think it either a fable or an invention of his own, if the proofs of it were not to be found in the papers which he was now ordered to submit to the House.
He must now state to the house, that while these communications were passing between Paris and Madrid, a new application was received from the Spanish government (which the House would find 887 in the papers), calling for a more active employment of the good services of this country, in producing an accommodation with France. If his majesty's ministers had previously entertained any doubt of the line of conduct which they ought to pursue, that application would have decided them: for, under such circumstances, had they declined to continue their interposition, they would have appeared to be setting their own private feelings in opposition to the judgment of those who still thought their interposition worth having. The interposition was therefore continued; but from that time forth the British government took no active part in the transactions. No second instructions were sent out to lord Fitzroy Somerset, who, in consequence, left Madrid. Sir W. A'Court being three days nearer to Paris, and the duplication of three days in the conveyance and return of the correspondence causing the delay of a week, was left to conduct the intercourse of the two parties; and all that remained for him to do was to state to each party the proposals and answers of the other. The result of these communications, though it was not more than might be calculated upon from the premises he had stated, was a total failure; and he took an opportunity of frankly stating that fact to the House. Nothing then remained for the British government to do, but to state fairly to each party the line of conduct which Great Britain was determined to pursue, in a state of things so deplorable for the tranquillity of Europe, and to explain to them the course of policy which she thought most consistent with her own welfare, as well as with that of both the contending nations. He begged the House to be assured, that there never had been a moment, from the beginning of our interference on behalf of Spain at the congress of Verona, down to the time at which he was then speaking, during which the Spanish government had been led to believe, that the course of policy which Great Britain would pursue, in case a war should unfortunately break out between France and Spain, would be any other than that of strict neutrality. No hope was ever held out to it, from which an inference to the contrary could be possibly deduced. Nothing was ever said on which a doubt of the intentions of England could be suffered to hang. From the beginning to the end of these transactions, it was re- 888 gularly stated to the Spanish government, that we would do all that we could, in any way, and by any means, to avert a war; but that, if war should unfortunately ensue, it was not to be supposed that our anxiety to avert it, was to be considered as the measure of our determination to take part in it, when commenced. To France, such a declaration had not been made, and hon. members, on reading the papers, would see that it was not necessary; for, though the documents which passed between the two governments were indications that measures of hostility were contemplated by the one against the other, still, when it became necessary to speak out on the points which those documents suggested, it could not well be done without making a declaration of neutrality, if not in express words, at least in substance.
That consideration brought him to the only part of the papers which it was his intention to read to the House. It was part of a despatch which had been sent to our ambassador at Paris, after all hopes of an amicable arrangement had ceased, to be by him communicated to M. Chateaubriand. That despatch contained an account of the negotiations from their commencement to their close; and he was the more anxious that the French government should see it, as he did not wish to make any unfair statement regarding its conduct. After giving a history of the negotiations it concluded in the following manner:—
It remains only to describe the conduct which it is his majesty's desire and intention to observe, in a conflict between two nations, to each of whom his majesty is bound by the ties of amity and alliance. The repeated disavowal, by his most Christian majesty's government, of all views of ambition and aggrandizement, forbids the suspicion of any design on the part of France to establish a permanent military occupation of Spain; or to force his Catholic majesty into any measures, derogatory to the independence of his crown, or to existing relations with other powers. The repeated assurances which his majesty has received, of the determination of France to respect the dominions of his most faithful majesty, relieve his majesty from any apprehension of being called upon to fulfil the obligations of that intimate defensive connexion which has so long subsisted between the crowns of Great Britain and Portugal 889 With respect to the provinces in America which have thrown off their allegiance to the crown of Spain, time and the course of events appear to have substantially decided their separation from the mother country; although the formal recognition of those provinces, as independent states, by his majesty, may be hastened or retarded by various external circumstances, as well as by the more or less satisfactory progress, in each state, towards a regular and settled form of government. Spain has long been apprized of his majesty's opinions upon this subject. Disclaiming in the most solemn manner any intention of appropriating to himself the smallest portion of the late Spanish possessions in America, his majesty is satisfied that no attempt will be made by France, to bring under her dominion any of those possessions, either by conquest, or by cession, from Spain. This frank explanation upon the points on which perhaps alone the possibility of any collision of France with Great Britain can be apprehended in a war between France and Spain, your excellency will represent to M. de Chateaubriand as dictated by an earnest desire to be enabled to preserve, in that war, a strict and undeviating neutrality—a neutrality not liable to alterations towards either party, so long as the honour and just interests of Great Britain are equally respected by both.These were the only points on which it appeared to him that any danger could be apprehended for Great Britain; and on these points he had endeavoured to guard her interest as carefully and specifically as he could. He would now beg leave, to say a few words with respect to the treaties which existed between this country and Portugal: and here be would take the opportunity of stating, that there never had been a single moment in which the ministers of France had not been aware, that any attack wantonly made by them on Portugal would bring Great Britain into the field with all her force to support the independence of her antient and her faithful ally. He was compelled, however, to remark, that much misconception prevailed in the country upon this point: for it was not only asserted, that our connexions with Portugal imposed upon us the necessity (as they certainly did) of flying to her assistance if she were attacked; but it was also asserted, that they left the question, whether Great Britain should go to war or remain at 890 peace, entirely in the keeping of Portugal. He desired to be understood as admitting our pledge of defence to Portugal on the ground of a defensive, and not of an offensive, treaty; and if there was one point more clear in the law of nations than another, it was this—that a defensive alliance between two states did not commit one of them to war, when that was voluntarily commenced by the other. He was happy to state, that there never had been a moment in which the French government had not declared to Portugal that it was not its intention to meddle at all with her, either in word or deed, unless Portugal attacked the armies of France. He could also inform the House, that up to this moment Portugal was not bound by any engagement to enter into the war [Hear! from the Opposition benches]. He was not stating what her policy was—he was only stating her obligations; and he again repeated, that Portugal was not bound by any treaty to enter into the war which had now broken out between France and Spain. He, therefore, said, that if Portugal joined Spain in her endeavours to repel France from the Peninsula, there was no ground for Great Britain to put forward a single soldier in support of Portugal. He was not stating what our policy might be; but what was required of us by the faith of treaties. England was bound to protect Portugal, if Portugal were attacked; but not if Portugal attacked others. He thought it right to make this statement, because England had never yet made any arrangement, or entered into any treaty, which she had not, when called upon, fulfilled to the very letter; however arduous was the struggle into which she entered, and however great the sacrifice which she was compelled to make to procure its fulfilment; and it was on account of that rare scrupulousness in fulfilling her engagements, that it became the more necessary for her to understand precisely what the nature of those engagements was.With regard to the independence of the Spanish colonies in America, be also wished to say a few words by way of explanation. Undoubtedly it would have been much more agreeable to him not to be called upon to give any explanation upon an event which might only be contingent. Unfortunately, however, no choice was left him at the present moment. As long as peace prevailed on the 891 continent, and Spain had no enemy in Europe to contend with, so long it was a matter of discretion with the British government, whether it would or would not call the attention of Spain to the undeniable fact, that she had lost all her influence in her American provinces—that all her efforts to regain it have been, and still were, useless and ineffectual; and that her wisest policy was to enter, as soon as possible, into an accommodation with them—an accommodation founded, indeed, upon the basis of recognizing their independence, but qualified with any advantages which the mother country might think proper to stipulate, and the colonies, in return, to grant. Indeed, advice to that effect had already been given to her by this country. We had told her that we should ask of her colonies no commercial advantages, as we conceived the superiority should be reserved to her as the mother country; and all that we were inclined to demand was, that we should be placed in the same situation with other favoured nations. More than once it had been hinted to us, that our good offices between Spain and her colonies would be favourably received by the mother country. The answer which had been invariably returned to such applications was, that we were willing to interfere with our good offices, if our recognition of the independence of the colonies were not to be made determinable on the issue of the negotiations. At present, however, the case was entirely changed. As Spain had now an active and powerful European enemy, it became necessary for England to declare in what light she looked upon the struggling provinces of South America: for as Spain still retained the dominion de jure over them, though she had lost the dominion de facto; as France might send forth her fleets and armies to seize and conquer them: and as, at the conclusion of the war, arrangements might be made between the two nations regarding the conquest or the cession of them, the British government had felt itself called upon to state, that it considered the separation of the colonies from Spain to have been effected to such a degree, that it would not tolerate for an instant any cession which Spain might make of colonies, over which she did not exercise a direct and positive influence. To such a declaration the British government had at last been forced. Without staying to examine 892 whether it had been made prematurely or not, he would once more repeat, that to such a declaration we had at length, by necessity, been driven, and that the justice and propriety of it had not yet been disputed by either party.
He was aware, that to whatever determination the House might come regarding the conduct of his majesty's ministers in the late negotiations, strong difference of opinion had existed, and would still continue to exist, with regard to the propriety of our observing a strict neutrality in the impending contest between France and Spain. He knew that many individuals in this country thought that the invasion of Spain by a French force ought to be considered by England as a declaration of war against herself. That opinion, he knew, was held by many persons of the first rank and the utmost respectability in the state; but of that opinion he would state, that it could not receive any support from either justice or the policy of the state. When he said, that it could not receive any support from justice, he did not mean to say that such a war would be absolutely unjust on our part, but that there would be no adequate ground on which we could be called to interfere in it. War, in the responsibility of those who had to make it, ought to be well and duly weighed before it was resolved on; the cause of it should not merely be sufficient, but urgent; and not merely urgent, but absolutely consistent with the interest and welfare of the country which first declared it. In making these observations, did he cast any blame upon those who, seeing a strong and powerful nation eager to crush and overwhelm with its vengeance a less numerous but not less gallant people, were anxious to join the weaker against the stronger party? Certainly not. The feeling was highly honourable to those who entertained it. The bosoms in which it existed in full bloom and vigour, unchastened and unalloyed by any other feeling, were much more happy, than those in which that feeling was chastened, tempered, and mitigated by the considerations of prudence, interest, and expediency. He not only knew, but he absolutely envied the feelings of those who called for war, for the issue of which they were in no wise likely to be responsible; for he would confess, that the reasoning by which the war against Spain was justified, appeared to him to be much more 893 calculated than the war itself to excite a strong feeling against those who had projected it; and he must likewise add, with all due respect to those who defended it, that he could not understand by what process of reasoning, or by what confusion of ideas, they contrived to persuade themselves that they had made out any thing which approached even to a shadow of a case. They had been foolish enough to institute a comparison between the conduct of France at this moment, and the conduct of Great Britain in 1793. But what, he would ask, had Spain ever done that was at all analogous to the celebrated decree of the 19th of November, made by the French republicans? What country had Spain ever attempted to seize or to revolutionize? What independent state had she invaded in any manner that could be compared with the invasion of Geneva, of Savoy, and of Avignon by France—states that had been ravaged and plundered by their invaders, before any notice of their intention was given, and before their inhabitants had even time to draw a sword in their own defence? If the whole of Europe had formerly combined against France, it was not because she had refused to amend her political institutions on the demand of foreigners, but because she had declared her resolution, in the first instance, to propagate as widely as possible her pestiferous doctrines, and had provided means, in the second, to carry them all over Europe by the terror of her armies and the power of her sword. There was no analogy between the case of Spain and that of the French republic; and of all the powers which ought to think of reading such a lesson to Spain, even if the analogy existed, France was the very last. France, Whose oppression and tyranny had created that very constitution in Spain, which it was now the foremost in condemning and reprobating! That France should be the first to complain of that constitution, which was the consequence of her own unjust aggression, was the event which of all others he should have least expected! He was not therefore surprised to find that many individuals were for deterring France from her present invasion of Spain by something stronger than state papers and remonstrances.
He had heard that there were some persons who thought that, though it might not be prudent to make war, it might still 894 be prudent to menace war against France upon this account. These individuals, he conceived to be guilty of an error in principle, as the country which menaced war ought always to be ready to carry those menaces into execution. There were other individuals who were guilty of an error of a different kind—he meant an error of opinion. They thought this country should immediately send forth a maritime armament to watch the events that might occur on the shores of the Peninsula. Such a course, in his humble opinion, would be unworthy a great and independent nation like our own, and would degrade it from a first to a secondary power. He did hope, that whenever it determined upon war, it would determine to wage it, not as an auxiliary, but as a principle. Such had hitherto been its policy; and on all former occasions, when it had resorted to war, it had exerted every nerve to bring it to a safe, a speedy, and an honourable conclusion. "Toto certatum est corpore regni." This, he contended, was the only sound view in which war could be contemplated, and he differed entirely from those who considered the subject in any other manner. If war were the issue, it should be a war worthy of this great country; and there was no war in which the country could be engaged at the present moment, and under the existing circumstances of Europe, that would not call forth all her power, all her strength, and all her energies. This was the alternative which they had to weigh—whether honour commanded, or interest prescribed; or, if interest were left wholly out of the question, whether a sense of justice between the two hostile parties was not sufficient to induce the British government to interpose its good offices and to state what its views of policy were; and, finally, having undertaken that, as it turned out, thankless and unpleasant office with respect to both sides, there was sufficient cause to justify them in joining the injured party. These points admitted of much argument, and were mixed up with a great portion of feeling. But, whatever decision they came to, that decision ought to be a calm, a sound, and a just one; and, so far as a pretty large and a most anxious expression of public feeling had gone, it did appear that the course which had been pursued was in unison with the general sense of the country. The determination of the government was for neu- 895 trality. And for what sort of neutrality? The House would give him leave to say, for an honest and real neutrality. Any other would be unworthy of the nation. The choice was between neutrality and war. If they meant war, let them openly choose it; but, if they called for neutrality, let it not be neutrality under the mask of non-interference with one party, whilst a covert support was given to the other. If they asked him what were the lines, rules, and limits, of a just neutrality, he would tell them in one word. There was a golden maxim, which applied as well to politics as it did to morals—"Do unto others as you would that others should do unto you." But to England, he would say, "Do unto others what you have made others do unto you." For a quarter of a century, this country had laid down the law of nations to the whole world; she had laid down, most clearly, the code by which neutrals were to be guided. From the learning, the acuteness, and the talents, which had been employed in its formation, and from the recognized justice and purity of its principle, it stood, he believed, unquestioned throughout the world; and, if they did not question it themselves, would, he was convinced, go down to posterity as one of the greatest monuments of wisdom and integrity, that had ever appeared in any age. He alluded to the code which had been compiled from the decisions of sir William Scott.
There were two points on which his majesty's ministers might be questioned; first, whether it was proper that a system of neutrality should be acted on; and next, whether, at the congress of Verona, they ought not to have accepted from both parties, that undefined offer, short of mediation, and without a distinct definition of the principle on which their good offices would be received, which had then been made? The complaint of France against Spain, whether well-founded or not, was, that the disquieted state of her internal institution placed the tranquillity of France in jeopardy; and the counter-statement of Spain was, that the Army of Observation which France had marched to her frontier disquieted the Spanish people. It was between these two points that they had to strike the balance, without considering whether France sinned more against Spain in calling for preliminary conciliation, or Spain sinned more against France in desiring her to withdraw her army. Under such 896 circumstances it was impossible to negociate. This was a case of a very novel nature, differing entirely from those in which a portion of territory having been captured, or a number of ships having been seized, there were tangible points for discussion, which could easily be adjudged. What was wanting in this instance to preserve peace was, that Spain should make some change in her constitution (a constitution which she had unquestionably a right to form), and that France should withdraw her Army of Observation. Without touching on any question involving the conduct of either party, it became a matter of inquiry, whether the British government had not done right in exerting their power to the utmost, and endeavouring as much as they possibly could, to prevent the breaking out of hostilities. This only, he should say, that though on this point he must anticipate some difference of opinion (and that difference he did not mean to censure), still, if the question were to be discussed again, be would undoubtedly pursue the same course, and he would not incur the reproach of stimulating Spain to resistance, by promises of support which could not be realized. The promise of actual and efficient support to Spain, this country was not prepared to give and the case ministers had to consider was this—whether they should with, draw from the question altogether, and treat it with perfect indifference? Indifference they could never feel towards the affairs of Spain; and he earnestly hoped and trusted that she would come triumphantly out of this struggle. But he should not speak truly, if he did not say, that he was perfectly convinced, the first result of her success and pacification must be, the adoption of those alterations in her system which they had recommended. But, whether Spain or France were successful, he must ever feel a perfect conviction, in considering the extent of misery which might be occasioned by the contest, that if Spain had given way in a slight degree on the one part, and the Army of Observation had been withdrawn on the other, any unpleasant feeling would have been swallowed up and lost sight of in the immensity of the benefit which would have been produced. They would not then have had to deplore that state of warfare, the risk of which was incalculably great, and the issue of which it was impossible to foresee.
§ Mr. Broughamsaid, he rose on this occasion not so much for the purpose of entering into the discussion of the many momentous topics which the right hon. gentleman had introduced in the course of his speech, as to vindicate himself and the gentlemen near him in the eyes of the country, for not now proceeding with the discussion, animated as they were by many of the sentiments which had fallen from the right hon. gentleman—sentiments which reflected the highest honour on his character. There were, no doubt, very many persons who did not thoroughly understand, why so great an abstinence had been exhibited, and for so long a period, on his side of the House. That circumstance he would explain. He was one of those who, when he heard in a distant part of the country, where he was professionally engaged, the course of proceeding which the right hon. gentleman intended to follow, could not see the expediency of adopting that course. The right hon. gentleman did not produce the papers in the first instance, that gentlemen might read them; he reversed the practice, by defending his conduct first, and afterwards producing the papers on which that defence was founded. Now, he must say, that the unfavourable impression which that mode of proceeding had originally communicated to his mind, was not altogether removed by the right hon. gentleman's statement: for it did so happen, that, having attended to his speech with the greatest possible care, he found himself left in the dark, up to the present moment, as to the precise and specific line of conduct which his majesty's government had pursued. The right hon. gentleman said, that strict neutrality was what the government had intended: he said, that they would give no assistance to Spain, or to the invaders of Spain; but, as to what extent they had laboured to avert it, and as to what representations they had made at Verona or at Paris upon these points, he was left wholly in the dark. Nay, there were some parts of the right hon. gentleman's narrative, which, from the curious omissions observable, led him to a conclusion directly the reverse of that which other parts of the statement would induce him to form. The right hon. gentleman having passed over, with a lightness at which he greatly marvelled, whatsoever had been done at Verona—having given no account of what had been said by the duke of Wel- 898 lington—having stated nothing relative to the proceedings which afterwards took place at Paris—stated, to his great astonishment, in a subsequent part of his speech, that the duke of Wellington had exerted himself to secure the tranquillity of Spain. But how? That did not appear. Here there was a great chasm—an immense hiatus valde deflendus—in the narrative. The most important part was omitted. Hamlet, the most striking and the most necessary object in the play, was left out. But, having made these omissions, the right hon. gentleman went on to say, that the duke of Wellington had first restored the freedom of Spain by his military prowess, and had next defended her liberty and independence by his conduct at Verona. Now, if he took this as a real statement of what had occurred at Verona, he should be led to indulge in the pleasing expectation, that he should find, in the papers on the table, no vague generalities, no idle wishes, but representations drawn up in the firm language of remonstrance. He would not say menace; because that point appeared to have been blown on towards the latter part of the right hon. gentleman's speech. He, however, did not know that there were any persons, either in that House or out of it, who could be so extremely absurd as to wish ministers to use menaces which they could not follow up. He would say, that they ought to have used the strong and firm language of remonstrance, not of menace. It was of no use to say, "Don't think we are so mad as the Bourbon government—don't think we are so wicked as that handful of imbeciles who have forgotten nothing and learned nothing; who have not profitted by those precious lessons of adversity which were never thrown away on any except themselves—don't suppose that we will assist in bringing back those pernicious principles which are the shame of France, and which, if restored, must be the curse of the Spanish people, and reduce to misery all the rest of Europe." What benefit could result from their declaring at Verona—"that we are not so base, so wicked, so drivelling, or so profligate as those by whom the invasion of Spain has been commanded?" What gratitude did he owe to ministers if they had done no more than this? What was the use of such statements, if nothing effectual were done to check that system of policy, which he thought had died with the late 899 marquis of Londonderry—that system which was supported by, their shallow rhetorician, by their flimsy orator, Chateaubriand, who had been transformed from a writer of bad books to a writer of worse manifestos? What use was it to tell the people, and the parliament, "We do, not mean to do that," which ministers knew for their lives, they could not, they dared not to do? Where was the mighty fortitude, where the exalted courage, in their saying "We will not, to support your false principles, plunge this country into a war with all Europe?" No minister, not even Mr. Pitt, in the plenitude of his power, would dare to make such an experiment. Where, then, was the merit of a government such as the present—no two members of which seemed to agree upon any important point—in declaring, that they would not do an act, which it was not in their power to effect? He observed, that when the minister for foreign affairs, rose and uttered sentiments which, as an Englishman, a statesman, and an orator, did him the highest honour—sentiments which would surprise and delight the country, and which would crown him with the ardent applause of that country—he observed, while those expressions were heard with delight by all who sat on the Opposition side of the House—while the loudest expressions of gratification were heard—while even the benches below him [those occupied by Mr. Bankes, Mr. Wilberforce, &c.], resounded with acclamations—that a "deathlike silence" was preserved by the gentlemen opposite—that the faculties of those who administered the government, and their various adherents and supporters, appeared to sink into a "dread repose," astounded, he supposed, at the liberality of the principles which they had so unexpectedly heard. God grant, that the negotiation, when we came to read the papers, might not be found to have been carried on rather in the spirit of those silent gentlemen, than in the spirit which filled the breast of the right hon. secretary, the expression of which was re-echoed from almost every part of that House, and would be joy fully responded from every part of the empire. Finding many contradictions in the statement which they had just now heard—finding also a great many blanks in it—and knowing that, the contradictions could only be reconciled, and the blanks filled up, by a careful perusal of the papers—what, 900 under such circumstances, could be more necessary than to defer the detailed discussion of the question? He was ignorant of even the dates of the different papers; and therefore he could not tell how long the right hon. secretary had been the dupe of the French government. That he had been duped was quite clear. That was his case. The right hon. gentleman denied being an accomplice; and he disproved the accusation by showing that he was the dupe. Until he knew how long the right hon. gentleman had been hood-winked by those gracious personages, he could not decide in what degree the French government altogether was or was not the most finished specimen of perfidy that could be conceived. He believed from all he had seen, that the conduct of the French government had been most perfidious. However gentlemen opposite might stare, he repeated, that its conduct had been most perfidious. The right hon. gentleman himself had admitted the fact—he had stated it in a manner almost less measured than that which he (Mr. B.) had adopted. In speaking of the objects of his vituperation, the right hon. gentleman had, in effect, declared, that more cunning, more imposing, more wheedling men—men of worse faith, more abandoned in their notions of honour—men whose words were less to be relied on—existed not in any cabinet in the world, than those men who now composed the French government. These were the figures which constantly occurred to them in the picture which the right hon. gentleman had that night sketched. By reading one of the papers, it would be found, that up to the very eve of the day when the French king declared war in his speech to the chambers, the government of this country was abused with sanguine hopes of pacification. He wondered how it could possibly enter into the mind of so acute a person as the right hon. gentleman, who had recently studied in the French school of policy, to write the dispatch which he had read that night. The concluding passage was one of the most wonderful things in this extraordinary chapter of marvels. That he could have written it when M. Chateaubriand was not at his elbow to wheedle him; that he could have written it in the fulness of his senses; appeared almost incredible. That a paper which was go to the French government—a paper which was to be laid before that House— 901 accompanied as it was by proofs of the most unexampled perfidy, should contain such a flattering expression of sentiments was really astonishing. It was there stated, that no one could doubt the purity of the motives which influenced the French government. It appeared according to this, that the little article of the French making war on the Spaniards was nothing; that no man could be so foolish as to suppose that France had any object of aggrandizement in view, when she strove to overrun Spain. As to the line of conduct they were about to be called on to sanction, either by their forbearance, or by adopting some proposition from the other side of the House, until he had an opportunity of reading and examining the papers themselves, he would abstain from giving any opinion whatever. But it would be en abandonment of every honourable principle, in any event, to sanction so absurd, he would not call it so unprincipled, a plan, because its want of principle was lost in its pure folly, and utter want of sense, as that of holding out a threat which they could not fellow up. If they decided fur neutrality, it was, observed the right hon. gentleman, to be a real, not a mock one. On this part of the business, he begged to make a few remarks. Now one of his reasons for preparing for war instead of neutrality, was, because he looked upon it to be the only way of preserving peace, and of averting those calamities by which Europe was threatened. They might be obliged ultimately to go to war, and in what situation would the country then be, if no previous preparation had been made? It was not a question, whether they should continue at peace, or go to war, merely as a matter of voluntary adoption. Other nations might choose to decide for themselves; and then the question would be, whether their going to war might not compel us also to adopt hostile measures? Then, supposing war to be inevitable, what would be the consequence if this country were dragged into it unprepared, and at a time when the enemy had effected the greater part of his object? From this followed the great question, whether an earlier preparation, and the tone befitting that state of preparation, might, not, and would not, if proper steps had been taken, have saved the country from a State of warfare? If they were only to have the pleasure and satisfaction of a 902 state of neutrality, which, for a quarter of a century, the people of this country only knew by its effects on other states then the commercial interest of this country, the merchants, and the crews who manned their ships, would be placed in a very novel situation. Other countries would, of course, act on the principles; with respect to neutrals, which England had laid down; and then the people of England would, perhaps, have to bear the novel sight of British ports blockaded by a French force, and they would also witness the efforts of British vessels to break that blockade, not for the mere purpose of traffic, but for a higher and nobler purpose, in the prosecution of which they would have the prayers and good wishes of every Englishman. The vessels, however, so loaded and so manned, for the assistance of the oppressed, would, under the neutral code, be liable to the visitation of every French boat with five men and a gun in her—they would be exposed to that visiting system which England had exercised towards other nations for a quarter of a century. Perhaps they would not find the system quite so agreeable when it was turned against themselves. To make the medicine a little more palatable, the right hon. gentleman had spoken of it as clothed in the elegant language of sir W. Scott, who had bestowed on it that ornamental dress, that dazzling garb, which had bewitched all but the neutrals. It had bewitched the right hon. gentleman who had a congenial classic taste, almost as much as it had tormented the unfortunate neutrals who suffered by that celebrated code. God forbid that war should last long, if that code were to be actively employed against the merchants of this country. The operation of the code would be found a very painful process. The merchants would scarcely bear it. Eruptions would break out in the system; and it would end at last by amputation in the shape of actual war. [Laugh.]—The learned gentleman then proceeded to observe, that he never knew a minister cut a worse figure than the right hon. secretary had done that night. The fault was not, however, attributable to him, but to the badness of his cause. He and his hon. friends agreed perfectly with the right hon. secretary in the liberal sentiments he had expressed, He wished those sentiments were common to him and to all his colleagues and their supporters. Those 903 sentiments would be echoed through this country with delight; and most heartily did he and all his friends pray for the success of the Spanish people in this war. He denied that it was the war of the French nation, and he believed that the French army did, in their hearts, detest the, work of plunder, guilt, and hypocrisy which they were sent about. It was the effort of three or four French emigrants, who had gotten into power. They were determined to make a desperate attempt to get back their confiscated estates by a counter-revolution, and the priests chimed in with them to recover their well-lost tithes. It was on account of these classes that the Spaniards were to be punished because they wished to be free. He hoped in God, however, that they would succeed against their enemies. He had with delight heard the right hon. gentleman say that this war was not only unprincipled, but desperate, on the part of France. He believed it was both; and he trusted the defence by the Spaniards would prove it to be the latter. But though the Spaniards might yield a little—though the French might succeed at first—though a great foreign orator had predicted their success as certain—though the renowned and veteran general Angoulême had clapped his hand upon his sword and vowed to conquer, still he would not despair of the ultimate success of the Spanish people. For our part, our duty was to go on, so as to deserve the respect of a people who to a man were animated with the strongest feelings for the success of liberty and independence. Should the war end (as he sincerely hoped it would) in the discomfiture of the Bourbons—should they be again conquered—they would owe it to themselves alone, and they would perish amidst the delight of every man in Europe; except, perhaps, a few, whose breasts never warmed with any feelings for liberty, except when the preservation of their places or their own personal interest rendered it expedient; but, with these few exceptions, they would perish unregretted by the world. None would raise a hand in their behalf; none would wish for their restoration. When the papers now produced should be fully before the House, it would be their business to decide whether the conduct of government had been such as either to give rise to bitter disappointment of hopes strongly excited, or sore humiliation at the degradation of our national honour.
§ Mr. Canning, in explanation, observed that the hon. and learned gentleman had quite misunderstood him in attributing to him the assertion, that the war was a desperate enterprise on the part of France. He had not said a word as to the possible result of the war on one side or the other. He looked forward with satisfaction, to any opportunity which might be afforded him of answering any objections which might be made to the course which had been pursued by his majesty's government, and with a perfect confidence, that if that conduct were tried by any of those tests to which the policy of governments in their foreign relations could be fairly subjected, they would be found to have been uniformly actuated by a respect for the independence of nations, the faith of treaties, and the honour and interest of the nation.
§ The papers were laid upon the table.