HL Deb 26 January 1841 vol 56 cc4-37

The House resumed.

Her Majesty's Speech having been again read,

The Earl of Ducie

rose and said, it appeared to him to have always been the custom in that House, in moving the Address in answer to the Speech from the Throne, to fix upon the most inexperienced person for that purpose. His noble friend (Viscount Melbourne) had not on the present occasion proved himself a very strenuous reformer, and he hoped that their Lordships would not prove such unusual reformers as not to concede to him that courteous forbearance which had hitherto been conceded to persons similarly situated. It was most gratifying to him to find from her Majesty's gracious speech from the Throne, that her Majesty had received from foreign powers assurances of their desire to maintain relations of peace and amity with this country; and it was still more gratifying to him to find, that the first wish and object of her Majesty was to maintain that peace which was so essential to the welfare and the happiness of the country, depending as this country did, from its position among the nations of Europe, upon her manufactures and commerce. But, dear and necessary as peace might be, he was the last person to wish that England should lose that influence on the Continent which enabled her to interfere in cases where interference was necessary, and more especially in such a case as that which had arisen in the East, where our interference had been occasioned by our desire and hope to maintain peace. That blessing, he believed, would be speedily realised to us. He must say, that, in his opinion, they owed a debt of gratitude to the heads that had planned and the arms that had effected the capture of Chusan. He had every reason to hope and believe that our differences with China would be brought speedily to an end: although perfectly aware of the dilatory nature of the Chinese, he hoped that the occupation of the island of Chusan would act as a spur upon their diplomacy. With regard to those points of legislation to which their Lordships' attention would be drawn, it was useless for him to take up their Lordships' time in making remarks, as in those instances referred to, the principles had been admitted by that House, and indeed by the Legislature. Since their Lordships had assembled last year, there had occurred great and mighty changes, having, as he thought, a most beneficial bearing upon the future prospects of this country. In India they had every reason to hope for tranquillity and for an opportunity of cultivating in that country more extensively the arts of peace. Canada exhibited no symptoms of political disturbance, but, on the contrary, presented a satisfactory feeling with reference to the new constitution for the two provinces. With regard to domestic politics, the country was in the enjoyment of quiet. Our agricultural prospects generally were in a state of improvement, and our manufactures had recovered from that depressed state in which they had some time been, and had quite resumed that state of limited and uncertain prosperity beyond which they could not go so long as there existed restrictive duties of such a system as rendered it impossible for any foresight and caution to prevent the recurrence of famine prices and their fatal consequences. At that present moment there existed a large field for the commercial industry of this country to extend itself. He did not believe, that in the history of this country a better opportunity had ever been offered to the spirit and enterprise of our merchants. As regarded our commercial affairs, it was necessary that he should take a short retrospective glance to the state of derangement in which our commercial affairs had lately been, and in which they had continued since the summer of 1839. The first cause was the contraction of the currency; there was, secondly, the great discredit into which the United States of America had fallen; there was also the stoppage of our trade with China; there was the blockade by France of the South American ports; and, lastly, there was the uncertain state of our commercial relations with France. Since there had existed no doubt of the continuance of peace, the foreign exchanges had acquired so much steadiness that there was every reason to hope that the usually great commerce of this country would produce balances of payment so far in favour of this country, that the bullion would again return to the coffers of the Bank of England, and the money market of London be relieved from the pressure that now weighed it down, and from the high rate of interest that had existed for some time. This would be a great relief to the internal trade of the country, and would enable the banks to afford that accommodation which had so important a bearing on the national industry. Having these prospects of the improvement of trade, he had also the satisfaction of believing, that many of those causes that had hitherto pressed upon our commercial interests were either removed or were in the course of removal. The settlement of the eastern question had again opened the trade of Syria and Egypt, and he did not think that he should be too sanguine in hoping that the legitimate influence of England must ultimately, by the part she had taken, produce an extended commercial intercourse in those parts, The cessation of the blockade by France of the South American ports would also produce an increased commercial intercourse with those parts, and the wise recognition of the independence of the states of Texas had opened a large field to the spirit and enterprise of our merchants and manufacturers. From the last accounts that had been received from the eastern seas there was every reason to believe that our differences with China would be adjusted, and he did not think he was too sanguine in saying that he hoped and trusted and believed that arrangements would be made upon a foundation that would fully provide indemnity for the past and security for the future, and at the same time extend our commercial relations with that large empire. Among our prospects of commercial improvement, no spot was more bright, or gave greater cause for congratulation, than the evidence that had lately been received of the restoration of credit in the United States. From the magnitude of the transactions, and the extended intercourse that had taken place between this country and the United States, it was impossible but that the derangement of internal credit for the last four years should have been heavily and grievously felt by our merchants and manufacturers. That evil was now fast passing away, and there was every reason to hope that the former extended intercourse would be gradually resumed to the great advantage of both countries. It would be hardly doing justice to the people of the United States if he missed that opportunity of calling their Lordships' notice to their honour and good faith, in punctually fulfilling their engagements with their foreign creditors. They had set a good example to their neighbours in South America, and indeed not a bad one for some of the older states of Europe. It was gratifying to him to find that those prospects of extended commercial relations were not likely to be disturbed by any interruption of the general peace of the world. Having made these few remarks, he could not but just draw their Lordships' attention to the uniform success that had attended the policy of her Majesty's Ministers. It must be conceded that they had at this moment domestic quiet, and, as regarded our foreign relations, they had every prospect of peace and extended commerce. He had heard it said, that these happy results were the consequences of good fortune. He, however, entertained a very different opinion. He attributed the one to the firm administration of the existing laws; and the prospects of peace and of extended commerce were in his opinion mainly to be attributed to the straightforward and manly course taken by the noble Lord, the Secretary for Foreign Affairs. There was one other point to which he must call their Lordships' attention. It was, indeed, a subject of thanks, but of thanks to a higher power than any earthly power—he alluded to the safe delivery of her Majesty, and to the birth of an heiress to the Throne. There was no reflecting person either in that House, or in the whole kingdom, who had not and did not most sincerely return thanks to the All-wise Disposer of events, that there was every hope that the inheritance of the Throne of these realms would descend in the direct line. He felt so certain that their Lordships would concur in that opinion, that he was sure that they would cordially adopt that part of the Address to which he had last alluded, and which Address he moved, be adopted by their Lordships. The noble Earl read and moved an address, the echo of the Speech from the Throne.

Lord Lurgan

said, that in rising to second the Address which had just been moved by the noble Earl, he was conscious of so many deficiencies on his own part, and of his utter inability to perform the task which now devolved upon him in the manner in which he always wished to perform every duty before their Lordships, that, at the very outset, he would put forward an humble claim for their kindness and indulgence. If left entirely to his own inclination he would rather have shrunk from the performance of the duty altogether, but his duty urged him onward to the task, feeling assured that he should experience at the hands of their Lordships forgiveness in all those points in which he should feel himself inadequate to the importance of the occasion. He felt deeply on the one hand his own insufficiency, but on the other hand he was willing to confess that, when he glanced for a moment at the topics mentioned in the royal speech, or ran, however briefly, over the great and interesting events brought before them from the Throne, as soon as he looked away from himself and looked only at the cause which he was called upon to support, his courage returned—he felt the strength of the cause which had been put by the noble Earl—strength not to be weakened or impaired even by the weakness of his advocacy. He thought, that if ever men in the position that night occupied by the noble Earl and himself were entitled to speak confidently, and to anticipate sanguinely, surely they were on the present occasion, under the auspicious circumstances with which this Session opened. He wished that these auspicious circumstances had infused some bright beams into the present Address. Naturally disposed to look with affection and partiality towards this production of the noble Lord, he could not discover any bright anticipations indulged in. This Address, like every other he had heard in that House, with one exception which would now be present to the minds and dear to the hearts of all their Lordships, with the single exception of the paragraph relating to the birth of the Princess Royal, was but a copy, a dull copy, a spiritless echo of the communication which they had heard from the Throne. He did not think the worse of it for that. It appeared to him to be a good sign of the state of the country, and to say something of the practical working of the constitution when the Sovereign could so speak out in the face of day before the assembled Parliament, as to draw forth a faithful response, even an echo of her sentiments in the answer to it. It seemed to him to say something for the position of the people, and the suitableness of the Government when the Parliament could so discharge its duty to the country as well as to the Crown, as to desire to send back no better answer on the part of the people than that which had been put on their lips by the parental and constitutional suggestions of the Throne itself. Therefore the Address was an echo of the royal Speech, and he trusted that it would meet with their Lordships' unanimous and cordial approval. Such was the happy position of affairs at present, that they could not better perform their duty than by merely sending as an answer the echo of the Speech itself. The Address of that night contained not merely the expression of political opinions—it embodied the expression of natural sentiment. It appealed deeply to the souls of all listeners, and unanimity would, at any rate, exist amongst them on this the first night of their proceedings. On that subject which was nearest to their hearts and minds, and congratulation on which would naturally be the first to spring from their lips, he was sure it was not with ordinary emotions—it was not with dull and hackneyed sentiment—that they had heard that paragraph in the Address which proposed to take up their congratulations to the foot of the Throne on the happy birth of the Princess Royal. He was sure that they would unanimously respond to that call. He was confident that with truth he might state, on the part of every man in their Lordships' House—sympathising as each and all of them did with the whole British nation, from one corner to the other—that they longed for this opportunity of expressing, in their collective capacity, their unfeigned joy, their hearty thanksgiving to Him in whose hands were life and death, that the travail and solicitude of their Monarch were now all but forgotten in the happiness which had succeeded them. Many of their Lordships had been present on the auspicious day on which her Majesty, with due wisdom and foresight, had entered into that married state of partnership which had both divided her care, and in some measure diminished her responsibility; and it was well known to all of their Lordships that consequent upon the wisdom and virtuous selection of that day the Palace of England might be pointed out as the best specimen of domestic happiness which England herself, rich and virtuous as she undoubtedly was in all her social and domestic relations, could exhibit. Since they had last assembled in that House, their Lordships had passed through an interval of critical importance, and of the utmost moment to that country and to Europe. He by no means intimated that the late negotiations and transactions which had been carried on with respect to Egypt and Syria, had been carried on without the most imminent risk—nay, the probability of war—and the public journals of the day might point out to them how nigh that country had been to a war. But those who conducted the ship best know-how to take it through the mist, and shoals, and the mazes— Intricate, concentric, intervolved"— of that line of policy and diplomacy which they had been obliged to resort to; and he, for one, put his confidence in that policy which had so successfully and honourably carried that country through its difficult position. He had the most perfect reliance upon the public men at the head of affairs, who had conducted the vessel of the State prudently and properly to the stage at which they had now arrived. He must also state, that, resting his belief on the common sources of information, and deriving his opinions from the outside scope of affairs, and altogether ignorant of the by-play and under-current of these proceedings, he certainly had had serious apprehensions, and he could scarcely meet with so inconsiderate a being as one who could not be induced to think that the race of European peace was well nigh run, and that the well of European peace was well nigh drained; and that the long friendship which had subsisted between that country and the opposite side of the channel was almost at an end. He had almost dreaded the arrival of that day, and he had now the inexpressible delight, of hearing, in the first part of her Majesty's Speech from the Throne, the welcome and harmonious sounds, that her Majesty continued to receive from all Foreign Powers the assurances of their unabated desire to be at peace with that country. He believed the crowned heads of Europe had a sincere desire for the maintenance of peace. If any wisdom was to be derived from experience, it was that "War was a game which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at." It was a fearful game to play at—it was a dreadful game to lose sit. He had no difficulty whatever, therefore, in uttering his assent to this sentiment in the Speech. It should, however, be remembered that it was said Kings would not play at war "were their subjects wise," and here was an interesting and important inquiry. He doubted not the gentlemen in the House of Commons would look sharp into the exigencies of the public service. It was not from throned potentates, nor from the upper ranks of society, that they had reason to apprehend war now-a-days; the question was, whether their subjects were wise, whether the people were sufficiently wise, instructed, and virtuous, to restrain those warlike instincts, and to keep from the rash madness of the war party around them. All they could do for this end, was to have their hopes and prayers, and he certainly thought he heard similar sentiments in every direction. He thought surely his vision was not paltered with in a "double sense," and that he perceived the advent of the olive branch that had told him these days of strife were passed, and that they had reached the place of safety and peace, the waters having subsided. He believed, that the glorious Minister of France to whom had been confided the reins of power, had already done much for the improvement of the nation, and by the honesty of his proceedings he had maintained peace at home, the result of which would be to ensure it abroad. He, therefore, thought, that this country had a well-founded hope, that they would enjoy the bliss of peace. There might have been altercations in past years, and they might still have them; there might be alarming appearances, but still he had no hesitation in saying the peace of Europe would be preserved. He felt great pride and satisfaction at the valorous achievements which had been effected by the British arms in Syria. He was sure, that the best results for the whole of Europe would be secured thereby. He also could not but congratulate their Lordships, that the British navy had again come to light and that the wooden walls of Old England, had shown themselves as strong as ever. He congratulated their Lordships that the British ships and crews under commodore Napier had come up to Acre, not only at the very nick of time, but at the nick of place. Much had been said about the arsenals of England being deficient in men and ships. Now what was the fact? Why the arsenals had proved themselves, notwithstanding all that had been said against them, perfectly competent for every purpose for which they were wanted, when required. Every ship had been fully manned, and no want of arms, men, or ammunition had been experienced. The crews and officers of our ships had done their duty to the entire satisfaction of the Queen of England, and to the entire satisfaction of their grateful country. But he would discharge from his consideration all doctrines of chances, or of dice, or of demonology. He had no trust in them, he trusted in nothing so whimsical, so capricious, or so deficient. Nor did her Majesty trust in them. Queen Elizabeth, when her fleet was delivered from enemies and from tempest, thought it no derogation from her victory, or from the exploits of her gallant subjects, to attribute her successes entirely to God's protection, and so would one as great as she, be ever ready to acknowledge the great protection which had been vouchsafed to her, and to say, God's Providence hath protected me, so that mine enemies shall not prevail against me. Throughout these eventful scenes nothing had been more conspicous than the high principles and the unimpeachable integrity and good faith of the British Government. The desire of promoting the public good and the general peace of the world, had been the distinguishing feature of all the words and actions of the British Government. Throughout the whole of the negotiations on this Egyptian question, he would say there was no pretence for any insinuation that England in putting forth her own power, or that of her Allies, had been influenced by any motives of territorial aggrandizement, whether as regarded Egypt, or Syria, or Acre, or any other territory, or by any attempt or desire to add to the number of the British dependencies. Such an idea had never entered into the heads or the hearts of those who ruled this country, and if from all the documents that had been brought forward, from all that had been written on the question in this country or in Europe, such a thing could be made manifest, then would he admit that he was ignorant and presumptuous, and that the English in those negotiations had been intriguing and ambitious. The policy of the Government had been plain and distinct; in all respects it had been followed out in sincerity, as the wisest and best course. With it there was no impossibility, and we had gathered into our granary the wonderful advantages resulting from a steady adherence to that principle in all our foreign affairs. He would state most unhesitatingly that if ever there was cause for congratulation—for national joy—for the success of British arms—it was now when our soldiers and our sailors had covered themselves with glory. Syria was rescued in one short campaign, yet our conduct had been forbearing—it was honest and straightforward towards the defeated party. All complaints had seemed to resolve themselves into a charge that the Government had departed from the policy of peace and non-intervention which they had declared upon their assumption of office—that they had interfered in the affairs of another country—and that by so doing we had been estranged from our ally France. But circumstances had rendered the intervention not only expedient but necessary, and every exertion had been made to carry all Europe with us. The great majority of the Powers had gone along with us through every step of the negotiations, and this country had offered to make any sacrifice short of the principle of the whole question, in order to unite all Europe in the settlement of the cause. With respect to China he had, from the very first, approved of the policy of despatching a naval and military force to the coast of China. The indignities and injuries they had sustained—the imprisonments and insults they had been subjected to were such as to excite the indignation of the entire British nation, and the almost unanimous opinion of a cloud of witnesses coupled with a recorded opinion of the greatest man that ever lived, and, thank God, still lived, were all in favour of the expedition to the coast of China. He would not refer to the moderation and forbearance that had marled the proceedings of that armament; they had tempered their power with moderation towards the defenceless people of a defenceless coast, and it was no part of the policy, although they drew the sword, to dispense with more peaceful agents. He trusted, as they had embarked on these waters, that their demands would be equal to the emergency of the case—he trusted satisfaction would be demanded for all the insults and injuries that had been heaped upon them. He could not for a moment believe, although such rumours had reached him, that any stipulations or treaties would be uttered into, and that satisfaction for the insults offered to them by the Chinese government would be obtained through the medium of a piece of parchment. He hoped they would have some such security as they at present held. The whereabouts had been well chosen, but they might rely upon it that the moment they relaxed their grasp every thing they had done would be the same as if it had not been done at all, and the hopes of the expedition would be miserably defeated and disappointed. He had gone more at length into these subjects than he had intended, and was afraid he had wearied their lordships, for all the best things had been snapped up by the noble Lord who had preceded him, and in seconding the address he was placed in the awkward position of one who had nothing left but the fragments of a former feast to serve up to a second table. Upon a review of all these things he agreed there remained much to be done—much to be handled with forbearance, delicacy, and judgment, and much to be well done and done quickly. He would observe, however, that Continental peace had been preserved, and that was no small matter. Throughout all the contentions that had recently taken place, no act that could excite the ill will of other powers had been committed. If the Ottoman empire had been carved out into prizes for enterprising warriors and avaricious statesmen, that might have led to interminable war with other powers; but he was not called upon to enter into any such question as that. He had not to dwell upon discomfi- tures and disappointments, or British failures and defeats; on the contrary, their Lordships had to commemorate signal successes. We had not failed in the Levant; nor had we failed anywhere else, thank God; and that was the bill of fare for that evening.—Their Lordships had now an opportunity of causing the hearts of the royal parents to leap for joy when they took up to her Majesty the congratulations of the country and of the Legislature upon the birth of her first-born, filling the bosom of the Queen of England with renewed pride and exultation. They had an opportunity of taking up to the Throne a manifestation of that loyalty on which her Majesty relied with such entire confidence; and under these circumstances he would ask whether his anticipations had been too sanguine, when he expressed his belief that the Address would meet with their Lordships' cordial and unanimous approval?

Lord Brougham

did not mean to go over the topics on which his noble Friend had addressed their Lordships; but although quite aware that an address, in answer to a speech from the Throne, in no way whatever pledged those who agreed to the address to any one proposition contained in it; although this had been often repeated with respect to addresses in both Houses of Parliament, yet, as it was apt to be forgotten in discussions, and at an after period of the Session also apt to be forgotten, he thought it peculiarly incumbent on him not to allow the present address to pass in silence. He meant to offer no opposition to it, but generally to remind their Lordships that no one who concurred in that vote pledged himself to any one proposition contained in the address. This would dispense with the necessity, on his part, of protesting against a very large portion, he was sorry to say, of the speech which had just been made by his noble Friend. But there was one part of that speech to which he was compelled to advert. Would that he could believe that the statements of his noble Friend were authorized by her Majesty's Government. His noble Friend had congratulated their Lordships, as well he might, if there was any foundation for it, on the Crown having received unabated assurances from all foreign powers of their disposition to maintain the most friendly relations with this country. But that was not in the present Speech from the Throne. It was in the speech of last year. It was not in this year's Speech. He would read both to their Lordships, for the comparison suggested to his mind matter of gloomy apprehension, which, however, would be dispelled at once, if his noble Friend near him (Viscount Melbourne) would take upon him to repeat that what his noble Friend had said in seconding the address applied to their present position; because, if his noble Friend did make such an assertion, of course, he would have grounds for applying to their present position the announcement of last year's speech, which applied to the position twelve months ago. The Speech of this year said, "I have the satisfaction to receive from foreign powers assurances of their friendly disposition, and of their earnest desire to maintain peace." But last year's speech said, "I continue to receive from foreign powers assurances of their unabated desire to maintain with me the most friendly relations." No man who heard him—no man in the country—would more heartily rejoice at hearing from his noble Friend, that those words could be applied to our present position, that assurances had been received from France of the unabated desire of the French government to maintain with this country the most friendly relations. This would relieve him from the painful impressions of those things which had taken place within the last six months, and which, having been in preparation for some months preceding the prorogation of Parliament, had naturally filled his mind with deep and gloomy apprehensions. For it was a reflection which might well beget gloom and despondency, that those friendly dispositions had been changed; that that good understanding had been interrupted; that the alliance of ten years' standing between England and France had been terminated, at least for the present—that alliance which had knit together those two great nations, and which, by binding them in the habits and feelings of amicable intercourse, had secured the peace of Europe and of the world. It was a grievous thing to have to add to that reflection, that the work of slaughter in one part of the world had already commenced; that we had engaged, he would not say, in wars which would have no triumph, or which had had already none, but in wars in which the valour, and skill, and gallantry of our troops might win triumphs, but triumphs of such a nature as to damp our exulta- tions with feelings of a very different kind. The victories which the necessity of the case compelled those gallant troops to win for us, seemed to him to place them pretty much in the same situation with those who went before them and were ornaments of the same service five-and-thirty years ago, and which were pronounced, by men of various grades of opinion, differing most widely on other topics-—not only by Mr. Fox and Lord Grey, but by Lord Spencer, Lord Grenville, and by Mr. Wyndham himself—objects of condolence, rather than of pure, unmingled congratulation. It was possible that all this might be justified. It was possible that all this might be defensible. But if it was defended with success, if it was capable of justification, it must be on the ground not of any remote policy, or interest, or expediency, but on the ground of necessity, on the ground of danger, not remote but immediate—all but inevitable, and to be averted in no other way. On these grounds, and on these alone, could the things be justified which had been done, or the policy be defended which had been adopted. Although thus expressing his sentiments without reserve upon the present state of our foreign relations, he was yet bound in justice to himself to express a certain degree of dissent from an opinion which of late years had to some extent prevailed. The opinion to which he alluded had been carried to an extreme in which he never had concurred—namely, that the best policy for England to pursue was to keep aloof from the affairs of the continent, to shut ourselves up in our insular position, to take no more concern in the affairs of the continent of Europe than did the United States of America. Trading with all, friendly with each, but standing aloof in the security of our coast. Permitting no one to insult our flag, or injure our subjects, but still not interfering unless in cases of direct injury or insult to ourselves. Now in that extreme opinion he never had concurred. Would that it were possible, from our position, or from the nature of human affairs, that such policy could be pursued by us; but it was his belief that unhappily, it was impossible. But there was a wide difference between never interfering at all in continental policy, and perpetually and incessantly intermedling in them—between keeping entirely aloof from all concern with European affairs, and never having our hands out of those affairs, between, on the one hand, shutting ourselves up in our insular position, as if divided by the Atlantic instead of the Channel, and wholly separate from the rest of the world; and, on the other hand, extending ourselves and adopting a sort of ubiquity, making ourselves everywhere present, perpetually acting, always intriguing or negotiating (for he did not like to use a harsh expression)—always meddling everywhere, as if our existence were extended over Europe, and the Continent were part and parcel of the British dominions. It was to the excess he objected. It was of perpetual interference and constant intermeddling that he now complained, and ever should complain; and when he looked back to the discussions which had taken place during the last six months, and to the negotiations previous to those six months, it really did appear to him as if men or Ministers were acting on some strange supposition, as if the capital of the Turkish empire were the capital of these islands—as if there were no difference between the British Channel and the Bosphorus, as if Syria were inland, or as if the rule of those countries, whether by the Sultan in the north, or the Pacha in the south, concerned us as nearly as the rule of the French empire under Napoleon himself. With respect to the conduct of one of those parties in his internal government, namely the Pacha, he wished to put it out of view, and he would merely observe, that, while an altogether undue importance had been attached to his government in the recent discussions, both it, and the position and resources of the Pacha, had been represented in the most different lights as occasion required. Sometimes he was represented, when the points of the argument made it necessary, as the mere vassal of the Porte; at other times, as an independent power, and he was treated with as such. Sometimes he was represented as exceedingly powerful, and of most dangerous resources; and then, when it suited the purposes of the argument, his resources were said to be exaggerated, and his power such as any one might cope with. As to the conduct of the government of Egypt, or as to what its resources were now as compared with what they were before, he would say nothing further than the remark, that Mehemet Ali did not appear to be by a great deal so powerful as he was five or six years ago—that there appeared to be a great difference between his resources at the time of the battle of Nezib, in 1839, and those which he possessed in 1832. Any further observation than these on his power had no kind of connexion with the question, and with nothing further on that subject was it necessary for him to trouble their Lordships. But what was the avowed object of all our proceedings, in which so great risk was incurred—so much actual mischief had beendone—by which the peace of Europe had been injured, and the alliance with France destroyed? They were told in the Speech from the Throne, that the object was to maintain the integrity and independence of the Ottoman empire. Since when had we begun to think it absolutely and indispensably necessary to consult for nothing but the independence and integrity of the Turkish empire? Was it in the year 1827, when we joined with Russia, our present ally, in destroying the fleet of the Turkish empire? Was it in 1830 or 1831, when we negociated with Russia respecting the dismemberment of the Turkish empire of a large, important, and integral portion; when the negotiation was not for taking away Greece, and erecting it into an independent kingdom (for of that there was no doubt), but as to what amount of territory should be added to Greece—what amount of inroad and encroachment should be made on the integrity of the Turkish empire—what amount of encroachment upon, and defalcation from, the integrity of the Turkish empire should be part and parcel of the same operation by which we asserted and guaranteed the independence of Greece? Was it in 1839, that we thought of nothing but the independence and integrity of the Turkish empire? Why in 1839 we offered to the Pacha himself Egypt, the most valuable of the Turkish provinces, in absolute hereditary sovereignty. That was not all. In October, 1839, we offered not only Egypt, but we proposed to cut out of Syria, by way of addition or arrondissement, for Egypt, a large and important portion. We offered, in fact, the pachalic of Acre, which, as had been said, meant Syria. Now we would not allow him to have it, because if he got it he would take the rest without leave. We had offered the pachalic of Acre hereditarily in 1839, but without the fortress; but in May, 1840, we had offered the pachalic for life, with the fortress. The difference between the hereditary offer and that for life in the east, and as it affected the independence and integrity of the Turkish empire—the difference to a man of vigour who had three or four years of life to exercise that vigour, was so trivial and insignificant, that he would be ashamed to detain their Lordships by explaining how small it was. Therefore, the independence and integrity of the Turkish empire, which was an object of such paramount importance, that for it we were to give up the alliance with France, to unite ourselves with the remains of the holy alliance, with Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in preference to France, was of such weight with us in May., 1840, that we offered to give up to its supposed enemy, Mehemet Ali, the fortress of Acre, which was the key to the pachalic, the pachalic being the key to Syria,—Syria being the key to the Taurus—the Taurus being the key to the Bosphorus, and the Bosphorus the key to Constantinople. We proposed last year to place in the hands of Mehemet Ali the first links of this chain so dangerous to the independence of the Turkish empire, and yet that independence was now become an object in pursuit of which it was said to be absolutely necessary to waive all other considerations as if they were of none avail, and sacrifice the real security, the true basis, the only solid and substantial foundation which there could be for the peace of Europe, he meant the good understanding and alliance between France and England. The argument assumed this shape—that it was necessary, not for immediate peace perhaps, but for prospective peace at some future period—uncertain it might be, and distant, but still a possible period at which peace might be broken—that we ought to arrange all matters, especially in the Levant, to meet such a contingency, and that we should do our best to prevent the Turkish empire from falling to pieces. Now to talk of restoring the Turkish empire—of renovating a body which had fallen to pieces from entire decay—of re-organizing a government under which every pacha set up for himself, from time to time, and became independent at his pleasure—every portion of which government was in a state of almost entire derangement: a government which had been, not for years, but for reigns, as if stricken with paralysis; to think of setting up such a govern- ment, even with the assistance of Russia not likely to be blind to her own interests—did appear to him the most chimerical object that could come into the mind of a statesman, at least as a thing for which he was to incur any considerable risk, or make any material sacrifice. Suppose the question settled as they desired, and Syria in the possession of Turkey, what reason was there to suppose that that government could hold it. They had armed he knew not how many thousand of Syrians, for the purpose of insurrection against one government. Why might the Syrians not use the same arms in insurrection against the Grand Turk himself? Those who thought such an event impossible, must take a very sanguine view of the facility with which the undisciplined and untutored rabble of that unhappy country could be made, at a single word, to take up or lay down their arms, to suit the combinations and purposes of the different allied powers. Then, again, observe the argument which was used. Danger was apprehended, if the Turkish empire was not kept together—kept together, indeed, in correct speech, it could not be—but renovated, reformed, and put together, being now broken in pieces by time, by its own hands, and by other hands than its own, ours among the number. It must be put together and held together by other nations, especially by Russia, who, as her interest was deeper, was likely to be more close in her attention, and to have a greater share than any other in determining the ultimate fate of that empire. But he came at once to the danger. What! was it not danger to Turkey herself? That would be no argument for interfering in any way upon any doctrine of the balance of power. It must be a danger which implied risk to the security of other countries—to the general peace of the world—to the safety of neighbouring nations, mediately or immediately to the safety of nations less near. That danger meant nothing more nor less than the danger from Russia herself. For it was said that Turkey got enfeebled if Mehemet Ali were left in possession of Egypt, and to Egypt were added Syria, on which the question had arisen; and in so far as it was not settled, danger still existed. Mehemet Ali being in possession of Syria, might proceed through the passes of the Taurus to the Bosphorus, and take Constantinople. This would entitle Russia to come down as the protectress of Turkey, and in her quality of protectress she might take a share of the dominions of the Porte, in addition to the large share which, having taken, she already possesses. That was the argument by which interference was supported, by which the rupture—not with France, thank God—but the rupture of the French alliance was defended. The first observation which suggested itself on this argument, which was the basis of our whole policy, was this: what a strange thing it was that our policy being entirely directed against one particular power, Russia, who of all the world should be found to be a consenting party to our policy, but that very power? Nay more, the policy in question being directed against Russia, the very same power was its great patron, if not its original proposer. It did seem most unaccountable that the great glory of the scheme, the great beauty of the policy, should turn out to be to secure us against the designs of Russia, Russia herself being the principal promoter, if not the original author of the plan. The argument was not easily reconcileable with the fact. There was a principle of which their lordships were well aware—it was, indeed, a maxim of an old Roman lawyer, a very wise man, who, when an act was done, and there was a question as to the parties, was accustomed to inquire who gained by it; for he was uncharitable enough to think, could he hit on the party who gained by the deed, that that party had some hand in doing it. The converse of that proposition was even more strictly true; that when you saw several parties engaged in an act, and the question arose whether that act was beneficial to the one or other of those parties, or injurious, in precise proportion to the zeal with which you observed one of those parties bestiring himself to further that act, you might be certain that the act was not prejudicial to that party, but beneficial. Thus, when that foul, that wicked deed, the partition of Poland was acting, there was a great question who was the real author of that great public crime; which of the three courts it was that could be charged as the original suggester of that horrible outrage. But when it was seen that Russia gained incalculably more than either of the two other powers, or than both of them put together, men immediately applied the doctrine of the old Roman lawyer, and said that Russia, who was the greatest gainer, was the original planner of the deed. So, conversely, in the present case, where the question was not, who was the author of a policy, but the author and the policy being given, the question was, whether one of several parties really benefitted or lost by that policy, whether losing, more or less in one trifling and unimportant and immediate direction, he did not gain more in another more important and permanent direction, when this came to be the question, and when it was seen that Russia was not only a consenting party, but a willing party, and not only a willing party, but a zealous party, and, perhaps, not only a party, but, underhand, and in some way or other, the contriver snd suggester of the whole, then men began to apply the converse of the rule of the old Roman lawyer—that rule which was the rule of common sense, dictated alike by the experience of men of courts, and of human affairs, and confident as he believed, that Russia was not to lose but to gain, that the policy, whether in itself or in its consequences, afforded no security against Russia as to Turkey, and that Russia, in short, stood in a better position for the furtherance of its schemes, after the policy had been carried into effect, than it did before; it was easy to believe, that Russia found it well worth while to give up some immediate and comparatively trifling advantages with respect to her views on Turkey, for the purpose of gaining benefits, which, though not so immediate, were far more valuable, and which, not to say in the long run, but ere a very great time had elapsed, would most probably, nay, inevitably, tend to gain more for her, and to further her designs of aggrandisement more fully, than if this treaty and this policy had never existed. Russia, perhaps, lost some temporary advantage, but nothing in comparison with the to her inestimable gain of keeping the Turkish empire together for a space of time in such a way as to deprive it for that space of time of any pretext for foreign interference for its protection. What was it that had hitherto made Constantinople forbidden ground to Russia? What was it that, while it lasted, gave the most complete, the most permanent, the most unexceptionable security against Turkey's falling a prey to any designs or force from the North—from Russia? The good understanding between England and France—the alliance between England and France—the co-operation of the councils of England and France—this it was that, while it endured, made it hopeless for Russia to turn her eyes towards Constantinople—this it was, that, while it endured, made the Turkish empire, even in its weakness, secure. And if there was one single object more cherished, more pursued than another by Russia, it was that this alliance between England and France should cease, and that there should be substituted for the good understanding between those powers, which had so long prevailed, something like the present, he would not call it misunderstanding, but coldness and mistrust. To gain this object at any price had long been the chief aim of Russia, and to gain this object, how obvious was it, that she would readily sacrifice any interest of a merely temporary and comparatively trifling nature? To gain this object was worth more to Russia than all the successes which either her arms or her negotiations could bring her in any other way, and in this object she had unhappily thus far succeeded. The government of France was charged with an intention of creeping along the coast of Africa, and ultimately getting hold of Egypt for herself, and the pivot of our whole policy as regarded Russia, France, and Turkey, was the supposition that France entertained such designs, and was likely, under certain circumstances, to carry those designs into effect. Now he would ask any man of plain, ordinary common sense, which was the most likely to happen—that France, supposing her to entertain these designs, should endeavour to carry them into execution if she remained in amity with us, or that France, being no longer in alliance with us, being separated from us, should afterwards get round to Russia, and that Russia, being all too willing to enter into the combination with her, the two powers should together accomplish those purposes which the argument principally dwelt upon supposed Russia to have, on the one hand, and France on the other? Would not these two powers, he would ask, attempt such purposes, if they entertained them, more readily, and more vigorously, if they came together, than if France had remained in alliance with England? It was a very common error in the present discussion to turn the question a great deal upon the relative management of the matter by the Minis- ters of France and England. Now there was no man who was more ready than himself (Lord Brougham) to give the amplest testimony to the talent and ability displayed by his noble Friend in the other House in the course of these negotiations. He had had experience of the great powers of his noble Friend in business, in negotiation, and in all the departments in which he was called upon to act, and he felt only admiration of his address and statesmanlike abilities. Nor was he surprised at witnessing their recent display, for, acquainted as he was with the noble Lord, they were to him no novelty, but even admitting, that his noble Friend was perfectly right in his mode of conducting the affair, and that the French minister was as entirely in the wrong, that was altogether beside the question. The latter might be completely in the wrong, yet the policy of the former might be as much so. It did not at all follow that the country of the one had not a right to complain of that policy, because the country of the other might also be entitled to complain of its minister. Before he concluded the observations he had felt it his duty to make (a most painful duty it was), he would beg to add one remark respecting the people of this country, and with respect to the people of France, a remark which he thought it right Ministers should have well impressed on their minds in what remained of this important and difficult negotiation, and which he considered might be important, with a view to preserve the greatest of blessings, and to avoid the most grievous of calamities, for both the one and the other of those nations. In God's name let it not be supposed, either on this side of the water by the Government, or on the other side by the French nation—for he hardly knew on which side the error might be the most fatal—let it not be supposed that the people of this country had ever for one instant felt indifferent to a policy which threatened war with France, or indifferent to the incalculable blessings of maintaining peace with that nation. If it were said, that no demonstration had been made, that no appearance had been exhibited of any great anxiety on the part of the people on this subject, he could account for that in this way: they never believed it possible that peace should be broken; the idea, as a practical notion, never entered their imagina- tions. If it had been at once told them, if they had been instantaneously put in possession of the fact, "you are on the point of war with France," he believed that nearly the whole people—he was confident that a great majority of the people—he knew for certain that an overwhelming majority of the working classes, the middle classes, and all the Liberal party, as they were called, of this nation, without any exception, would have risen up as one man, would have said to the Government, "The peace with France shall not be broken, come what may!" This was his belief: he knew the fact; and this was one reason why no demonstrations had been made. Another reason was this, and it was a reason why other demonstrations were often suppressed too; the noble Lords opposite were not at the head of affairs; and the friends of peace, of the French alliance, and the leaders of the liberal party, were the natural friends of that alliance, the friends of a pacific policy, the enemies of a rupture with France, unless reduced to it by absolute necessity all which prevented the pacific people from making any demonstration by the apprehension that it might be injurious to their friends and leaders in the Government; and this, he knew as a positive fact, had prevented numerous demonstrations on the subject. Another reason had operated with others in preventing demonstrations. This class of persons, finding all at once that negotiations were going on, and that there was reason to apprehend dangerous results, still, much to their credit, abstained from making demonstrations from a feeling that, in the then exciting state of things, such demonstrations, while too late to do good, might lead to very dangerous consequences, at a time when it was not known what might be the result; when it was not known how soon the slightest turn in affairs might lead to a rupture; and the sword once drawn, it could not be known how long a period might elapse ere it would return to the scabbard. They had been too late to do any service, and feeling that under such circumstances demonstrations would do more injury than good, the people of this country cautiously abstained from expressing their opinion, which, however, was adverse to war. Let not, therefore, his noble Friend, or her Majesty's Government, suppose if the people of England really believed that a rupture with France was intended, that there would not be a sensation from one end of the country to the other, that the friends of French alliance would not at once declare that the present policy should not be persisted in. Undue means had been adopted, undoubtedly, by bad and unscrupulous men to take advantage of the feeling against the alliance between England and France; but he trusted that such men were few in number, that their proselytes were far from numerous, and that their proceedings would be attended with signal failure. One reason, and that was the groundwork of all, for the rupture between England and France was, that there had been a want of courtesy shown towards France in the progress of those negotiations, and, indeed, M. Guizot himself had nothing to say more in favour of the French Ministry than that what had been done had been done in a discourteous manner. There was no denying that the French were a people of the greatest genius, courage, and military skill. Their brilliant military character made them "jealous of honour, sudden and quick in quarrel," and on those accounts it would have been better if every thing like discourtesy, which was calculated to induce them to a course likely to gratify their predilections had been studiously avoided. To suppose, however, for a moment, that any one in this country ever underrated the great military character and renown of the French nation—to suppose that even the noble Duke opposite, or any one of his former gallant companions in arms, ever thought or dreamt of speaking otherwise than most respectfully of the great achievements in arms of that nation, would be in the highest degree preposterous. He was himself speaking the language of peace; but to suppose that any man of this country should speak of France as having been humbled, he must say he had never heard such a sentiment from the mouth of any one, unless, indeed, it were broached by some one of those—few indeed as they must now be—who might still entertain a portion of those old prejudices which he believed and hoped this country had long ere this outlived and abandoned. The noble Duke had always himself maintained, that France must ever be a great and leading power in Europe, and he had no doubt that that noble Duke, if ever it had been proposed, in any of the confer- ences which were held by the great Powers in 1814, and subsequent years, to encroach upon France, would have been among the very first to have resisted the adoption of such a course of policy. For his own part, he had every confidence in the good sense and high feeling of the French nation, and in the certainty which must prevail among the people of that great country, that they ever must command respect as one of the leading Powers of Europe; and trusting to the prevalence of such feelings in the French nation, and hoping, that they would bring that people back to amity with this country, he would conclude by expressing to their Lordships his earnest hope for the security of the peace of the two nations and of the tranquillity of the world.

Viscount Melbourne

said, that certainly from the appearance of the House, he had anticipated that they should come to a unanimous vote on the address, but at the same time, considering the events that had recently occurred, the policy which had been pursued, and the consequences resulting therefrom, he had equally anticipated that some remarks would be made on the line of conduct which had been taken, on the course of events, and their probable results, and therefore he had not felt at all surprised at the speech they had just heard—an eloquent and able speech, he would add, in the general principles of which, he for the most part agreed, though he was sorry at the same time that he could not concur in the application of those principles. His noble and learned Friend had stated with perfect truth, that the address did not pledge the House, or any noble Member of the House, to approve or concur in any one of the measures which were mentioned in that address. The address he would beg leave to say had been framed with singular care and caution in this respect, and he believed noble Lords, on reading it, would find they could safely vote for it, without binding themselves to any opinion or any subject in it, and without in the least fettering themselves in the exercise of their free judgment, and the discretion which they might think fit to exercise on it hereafter. Their Lordships were of course a ware that the policy which had been pursued, that the course which had been taken, that the events which had happened, were all of deep and great importance. They must, see that the policy which had been pursued was bold in its character, and he was quite aware that he could not ask noble Lords to come to a conclusion as to that policy, to come to a vote of approbation of it, without he laid before them, which he intended immediately to do, the fullest information on the whole subject—the clearest statement of the whole of the negotiations; and when noble Lords came to consider the documents, he had the most sanguine expectations that the nature of the defence which had been pointed out by the noble and learned Lord as necessary—that a defence, not exactly amounting, as the noble and learned Lord suggested, to a case of absolute necessity, that was to say, a case in which it would have been impossible to have acted otherwise—but amounting to a case of stringent policy, and evident expediency, to a case which had called upon Government to act as it had done, for the purpose of preserving for the future the peace of Europe. Such a case, he trusted their Lordships would find made out from the documents; and above all things, he felt quite certain that when they read these documents, and considered the whole course of the negotiations, they would be persuaded that there had been no want of courtesy in the manner in which the negotiations had been conducted, and that this Government had been guilty of nothing which could justly offend the most sensitive mind. It would not do for one nation to plead its own irritability as a reason to govern the conduct of another nation, for this would be at once submitting ourselves entirely to be governed by that other nation. That was like what often occurred in private life, where you often saw that the most ill-tempered member of the family in effect governed all the other members of it by means of constantly saying, "Oh, I am very irritable, I am very ill-humoured, don't make me angry." It would never do for a nation to plead the faults of its own disposition or its own government in order to govern or overrule the conduct of others, for the noble and learned Lord would recollect that this principle might be pleaded by the most despotic nations. His noble and learned Friend said, that the Government seemed to attach more importance to Constantinople than they were called upon to do, and that they took more care for its preservation than they did for parts of this empire, and he asked what was the real object that they had in view. His reply was, that the object that they had in view was the preservation of peace, by the settlement of the affairs of the Levant, and by preserving the integrity of the Turkish empire as much as they could possibly in the state in which it was. His noble and learned Friend asked how long they had felt this deep interest in the subject, for the proceedings of this country at various periods had led to attacks on the integrity of the territories of Turkey, and he adverted to what occurred in 1827, when the treaty respecting Greece was agreed to, and which was followed by the battle of Navarin, and also to what had taken place since that time, and more particularly to what happened in 1830 and 1831, and the following years when the affairs of Syria and Egypt were brought under notice by what was then occurring in the former country, and again to last year, when, in the first instance, an offer was made to Mehemet to give him the hereditary possession of Egypt, together with some very important districts of Syria—namely, Aero and Adana. He would not go into an examination of the grounds of the former policy that was pursued towards Turkey some years ago; but he would beg to observe that there were other motives besides the preservation of the integrity of the Turkish empire which operated to bring about the proceedings of 1827. There was then a strong feeling in favour of the independence of Greece in the minds of the people of all Europe, which undoubtedly must have had considerable effect on the policy of all the powers. As to the offers made to the Pacha of the possession of Egypt and of certain districts of Syria, all that he would say was, that it arose from an extreme anxiety to settle the matter pacifically in union with the other powers which had united with us for the attainment of this object, and thus to avoid that conjuncture which had arisen. They did this because they knew that if the course of proceeding was forced on them which they had been compelled to follow, it would be attended with some hazard and risk. It was unquestionably for this purpose that these offers were made, and with the view and object of avoiding those ulterior measures to which they had been obliged to resort. It was quite clear from the papers already on the Table of the House, and more particularly from the despatches of Colonel Campbell in 1838, that it was the intention and determination of the Pacha to establish his own independence, and to throw off all allegiance to the Sultan, and to found a new independent Mahomedan state on the shores of the Mediterranean. This design became more obvious by what took place immediately about the period of the battle of Nezib, and by the mode in which he obtained possession of the Sultan's fleet, and to his continued refusals to restore it. It was therefore evident that he intended to encroach farther on the Ottoman empire and to make himself the sole, or the greatest Mahomedan power in that part of the world. It was the policy of the Government of the other powers to take effectual steps to counteract these dangers. They had postponed their measures for a great length of time, and he thought that the only charge which could be brought against them, was that of procrastination and delay, and that they had not taken the steps long before, which they had been at last forced to resort to. This, however, had been done because they were most desirous—because they were most anxious—because they felt that this was as nothing in comparison with the great object that they should have the concurrence of France in the settlement of this question, and that nothing was so desirable as that the five powers should act together in the settlement of affairs, and in the pacification of the Levant. Although they had been disappointed in their hopes of this union of the five great powers for the attainment of this object, he did not give up his anticipation and hope, that they might still bring about an agreement in opinion on this subject, and that they might all concur in such a settlement as to secure the peace and repose of affairs in that part of the world, and therefore the peace and repose of Europe. This was the ground on which they had acted. His noble and learned Friend said, that in the course which they had pursued, they had served the purposes of Russia, and that she was the only gainer in the matter, by breaking up the alliance which existed between England and France. Whatever designs Russia might have of a secret nature, he did not pretend to know; but he would suggest to his noble and learned Friend, that it was possible that that power might be desirous for the preservation of the peace of Europe, and which would put a stop to a state of things by which she alone might be compelled to take part, and to interfere for the preservation of the Ottoman empire, bound as she was to that power by a solemn treaty, and by which interference she might have compromised the peace of Europe. These generally were the objects which they had in view in the steps which they had taken, and that they had not been effected without bloodshed was a matter which gave him the greatest concern; but at the same time, he believed that the preservation of the peace of Europe and the world had been effected by the steps which had been taken. He trusted that ere long they would see a state of things in which all the great powers of Europe would unite on this question with the end of securing the peace of the world. His noble and learned Friend said, that there was such a general desire for the preservation of peace in the minds of the people of this country, that if matters had gone on a little further, there would have been a general demand from all classes of the community that tranquillity should not be interrupted between this country and France. He would not dwell on this point; but he felt called upon to make one observation, namely, that it was not in the power of any one nation to command peace. A nation might control its internal affairs, but it could not control or command the proceedings of another nation. He must also observe, that it was not the readiest or the surest way to avoid war by declaring, that, under no circumstances, could a country go to war. Having said so much as to the general policy of the proceedings which had taken place, he could not conclude without expressing the great satisfaction that he felt in finding that there was no disposition on the part of any noble Lord to interrupt the unanimity of the House on the occasion of the Address.

Lord Brougham

, in explanation, denied that he had said anything to justify the assumption that this country ought to go to war under no circumstances whatever. It was one thing, however, going to war in consequence of an attack on the possessions of this country, or the seizure of our shipping, or an insult to the national flag; and altogether a different matter doing so in the supposition that the balance of power in Europe was affected by the state of affairs in Syria.

The Duke of Wellington

said, that after what had fallen from the noble Viscount, it was not his intention to offer any observations, and he did not think it would be necessary for him to do more than express his desire to support the present Address, and his hope that it might be unanimously passed. He would also beg to congratulate their Lordships on the display of abilities which had been made that evening by the noble Mover and Seconder of the Address. The noble Seconder had addressed their Lordships before; but he must assure the noble Mover, that wherever acquired, he had shown anything but inexperience in debate; for he must say, that in such circumstances he never had heard a more able speech, or one involving more topics, and topics, too, which were not contained in the Speech from the Throne, but of which the noble Lord had made the greatest use in favour of her Majesty's Government. The noble Lord had certainly shown himself to be a most able and experienced debater. With respect to the topics adverted to in the Address, he, for his own part, would say, that he was one of those who approved of the policy of the measures which had been adopted. He bad viewed with no little anxiety for several years past the state of things in the Levant, and if he was not mistaken, he had directed the attention of their Lordships to the subject when the events occurred which occasioned that state of things, and gave rise to such frequent remonstrances and representations from all the European powers. At the period adverted to, namely, 1831, 1832, and 1833, their Lordships were reminded, and he hoped the noble and learned Lord (Lord Brougham) would remember it, of the danger to all Europe, occasioned by the state of things which led to the treaty of Unkiar 'Skelessi, and particularly to the two great maritime powers of Great Britain and France. Having, he repeated, viewed these matters with great anxiety and attention for a number of years, having been in office since the treaty of Unkiar Skelessi had taken place, and having seen the dangers which were likely to result, he must confess that it gave him great satisfaction to find, that the Government had taken the subject into its serious consideration, with a view to apply the best remedy in their power to ward off from Europe the evils which threatened from the state of things in the Levant. He was happy to be able to say, that he had rea- son to think, that these dangers would be averted, that all would end in a peaceful manner, and that France would join with the other powers in carrying into execution those measures by which the peace of the world would be secured. He had heard a good deal, both that evening, and at other times, of what had been called the alliance between England and France. He was aware, that France had on various occasions co-operated with this country in the adjustment of several questions, and apart from the other powers of Europe. This was the case with respect, to the Netherlands, and the two countries acted in co-operation and separately from the other powers in the instance of the Peninsula. He knew, however, of no other alliance than a good understanding between the two countries when consulting on several points of general interest to Europe. Further than this, he knew of no other alliance. They were not peculiarly allies, but had acted together, and in accordance upon several subjects, and in conformity with the spirit of the general alliance of the European powers established at Aix-la-Chapelle. The two countries had frequently acted in concert, but they had also frequently acted otherwise; for instance, they had acted separately on the occasion of the negotiations at Verona, when he himself was present there as Ambassador from this country, and on which occasion he had separated himself from France and the other European allies. England did not on that account take offence at the course which France thought proper to pursue. This country differed with the other European powers with respect to the expedition to Spain, and, as he learned from the newspapers, France now differed from the other powers with respect to the proceedings relative to Syria and the Levant. He, for his part, came away from Verona, not concurring in the measures which had been adopted there, but certainly without having taken offence at what had been done. With respect to the present transactions, he had attended closely to the proceedings as detailed in the public journals, and he could not discover in them anything which France could construe into offence. He did not know why it was that the negotiations had been carried on confidentially, and by conversation, rather than in the usual diplomatic manner, by notes. It perhaps would have been better to have adhered to the usual form, for in that case any charge which might be made could be easily decided by reference to the official documents. That he thought was the only fault which could be charged against the whole proceeding. If, however, the negociating parties preferred to act confidentially, and by private communications, they were at liberty to do so, and no one had a right to complain but the public, on account of deficient information. He, must say, however, that through the whole affair, he saw nothing upon which a difference between this country and France could be grounded, nor could he discover any fault which had been committed on our part. When he himself stood alone at the congress of Verona, and all the other powers of Europe adopted a course in which he could not concur, he did not feel offence at their proceeding, and he must do the noble Viscount the justice to say, that during the whole of the recent transactions no discourtesy had been shown to France, nor was there reason to suppose, that any had been intended. It did not appear to him that the charges which had been made against Russia by his noble and learned Friend, as to its object with regard to affairs in the Levant, had been sufficiently made out. He must remind his noble and learned Friend, that at the period reverted to, namely, 1831, 1832, and 1833, the Russian government had made the strongest representations both to this country and to France, as well as the other European Powers, to induce them to take some steps to prevent Mehemet Ali's invasion of Syria. Russia foretold the consequences which were likely to follow, and owing to the neglect and supineness of the other powers, Russia felt it a matter of necessity to march an army and bring a fleet to Constantinople. No other Government had taken so much pains as the Russian, to induce the maritime powers to interfere for the prevention of the invasion of Syria by Mehemet Ali, and if the efforts had been successful, the Russian fleet would not have sailed, nor would the treaty of Unkiar 'Skelessi have been entered into. He merely wished to remind his noble and learned Friend of this fact, of which he must have been aware, as at that time he held a high office under the Crown. When he (the Duke of Wellington) was in office in 1834–35, he saw very clearly the in- convenience which must arise from the continuance of the then state of things in the Levant, and he was in hopes at that time that the Emperor of Russia might be induced to take some measures in concurrence with the other powers, to effect the settlement of affairs in that part of the world, for he was sure that that Sovereign must have felt the inconvenience to which he was exposed by the treaty of Unkiar 'Skelessi. It was not to be expected, however, that he would give up that treaty, unless he obtained other and adequate securities for the navigation of the Black Sea, and these had now been given by the measure which had been adopted, and the course which had been pursued. He must, therefore, under these circumstances, do the Emperor the justice to say, that he (the Duke of Wellington) saw no peculiar advantage that that sovereign had gained by agreeing to what had been done for the settlement of the affairs of the Levant. It was, then, not altogether fair to say, that the Emperor of Russia was not seeking for the same object as the other powers were, but that his only object was seeking to break up the alliance between England and France. Now, he, believed, that the Emperor of Russia was perfectly secure in working out the same common object with the other powers, so long as steps were taken to secure the navigation of the Black Sea. His noble and learned Friend had also said, that if noble Lords on his (the Duke of Wellington's) side of the House had been in office, the greatest fears would have been excited for the preservation of peace, and that the utmost excitement would have prevailed throughout the country. He would not pretend to say whether any or what degree of excitement would have prevailed if that had been the case; but he would tell his noble and learned Friend that no noble Lord nor any other man that he knew had done half so much for the preservation of peace, and above all, for the pacification and the maintenance of the honour of France, and for the settlement of all questions in which the interests of France were involved, as the individual who was then addressing their Lordships. From the period of the year 1814, down to the last month of his remaining in the service of the king, he had done everything in his power for the strengthening and preservation of the peace of Europe, and more particularly for the maintaining and keeping the best understanding between England and France. He repeated that he had done more than any one else to place France in the situation in which she ought to be in the councils of Europe, from a firm conviction—which he felt then as strongly as he had ever done—that if France was not, then there was no security for the preservation of the peace of Europe, or for a sound decision on any subject of general policy. He was sure that the noble Viscount would find, if he would take the trouble to search the archives of the Government, papers written by him shortly before he went out of office in 1830, which would fully justify the assertion which he had just made. He was sure that his noble Friend in that House, and his right honourable Friends elsewhere, who were in office with him were as anxious for the preservation of the peace of Europe as any politicians, be they Liberals or otherwise. They were as anxious for the preservation of a good understanding between France and this country, and that France should be on a perfectly good understanding with all the powers of Europe, and that she should take the station which became her in the rank of nations, and which her power, her wealth, and her resources, entitled her to. He said this much because his noble and learned Friend had adverted to this point, and he did not choose that there should be any misunderstanding on the subject. He was of opinion, and he entertained the sincere hope and expectation, that the other powers would be able to reconcile France to the settlement of the affairs of the Levant, which had been effected; and nothing could give him more entire satisfaction than that France was restored to that station in the councils of Europe which she ought to hold.

Lord Brougham

regretted that he had in any way given pain to the noble Duke, but he must be excused for saying, that if he had only been the unintentional means of calling from the noble Duke the statement which the House had just heard with so much satisfaction, he felt that he had rendered one of the most important services that man could do at the present moment.

Address agreed to.