EVACUATION OF SPAIN BY THE FRENCH ARMY.

HL Deb 18 March 1824 vol 10 cc1232-83

Lord John Russell

observed, that before he offered any thing in support of the motion with which he should conclude, he thought it necessary to say, that his proposition was not intended to lay the foundation of any charge against his majesty's ministers as to the policy they had pursued with respect to the contest in Spain. His opinion certainly was, that if, at the Congress of Verona, they had assumed the language that had been employed in the message of the President of the United States, or had ever spoken in relation to Spain itself, as they had recently spoken as to the colonies or Spain, that war would never have taken place; but, certainly any time after the commencement of the last session, it would have been in his opinion, imprudent to have embarked in the contest. This, however, was now rather matter for historical discussion than for any consideration of practical policy. What he wished to bring into discussion—what he wished to hear from his majesty's ministers was—what the policy of the country now is, in order that, by a clear perception of our condition, we should not fall again into that difficulty in which, we were lately involved, when, after a peace concluded amidst universal congratulations, and after a period of applause on one side and of silence on the other, it became a question, whether or no we should plunge into a dangerous war, and were only deterred from it by the danger of hazarding an attack upon so powerful an adversary.

He had heard it objected to the motion which he had to propose, that the subject would excite no interest in the House. He could not believe this assertion to be correct. He begged those who felt no interest in the subject to look at what their situation was. His majesty had told them, in his Speech from the throne, that he had continued to receive from all the powers his allies, assurances of their earnest desire to maintain and cultivate the relations of friendship. What was meant by the term Allies? It meant powers united by some common principle, and directing their efforts to some common object. The principle on which the allies were united was subversive of the British constitution. The principle en which Spain was invaded was subversive of British policy. Indeed, from the time of Louis 14th to that of Bonaparte, it was the favourite policy of the British government to prevent the French from taking root in Spain. From the battle of Blenheim and Villa-Viciosa, to those of Salamanca and Vittoria, the object of England was, to prevent the establishment of French interest in the peninsula. No longer than ten years ago, some of the best blood of England was shed in Spain, and now the French were in possession of the fields in which those battles were fought and their flags waved on the battlements of Cadiz, Badajoz and St. Sebastian, which we had spent so many lives and so much treasure to win or to preserve. When every part of that great country was occupied by the French, who would say, that this was a state of things that did not deeply interest the British parliament and nation?

He should now proceed to state, first, how we had been brought to this state of things; secondly, the danger in which we were placed; and, thirdly, what remedies were to be found to avert those dangers. First, with respect to the manner in which we had fallen into these dangers, it was to be recollected that, after fighting for many years, our adversary was subdued; the abilities of our commander, the tumultuous cry of nations eager to acquire their independence, the faults of our enemy, nay, the very elements, seeming to favour the courage and perseverance of England. What had been the result? A peace was concluded in 1814, interrupted in 1815, and confirmed in 1818, resting on principles of policy new to the diplomacy of this country, and on bases indeed new to the world. The ancient policy of England had been described by Addison in lines, of which the sense was better than the poetry— Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate, To hold in balance each contending state, To threaten bold presumptuous kings with war, And answer each afflicted neighbour's prayer. Such was the commanding station which the poet assigned to this country. But, how humble was the tone—how humiliating the position—which England had recently assumed in the politics of Europe. Instead of holding the balance between "contending states," she had fallen from the lofty station which she once occupied: instead of threatening "bold presumptuous kings," she had meanly truckled to the Holy Alliance: instead of answering "each afflicted neighbour's prayer," she had treated every prayer that had been preferred to her with scorn and contempt.

The first consequence of this policy had been the alienation of all those hearts which she had won by her struggle against the despotism of Napoleon, and the dispersion of all those romantic ideas which might have been formed of the generosity of Great Britain. We had disappointed the hopes, and excited the indignation of every man who loved freedom and independence throughout Europe. But besides this, it could not escape the observation of those who were accustomed to attend to the affairs of Europe, that an association of the great powers of Europerenouncing the old system of a balance, and uniting for a common object, was peculiarly liable to abuse, and that when abuse grew out of such an association, it was peculiarly difficult to be corrected. Such a system was peculiarly liable to abuse, because kings like other corporations, were apt to consider their own interests, in preference to the interests of mankind; and the abuse was peculiarly difficult to be corrected, because, while there was a natural remedy against any undue encroachment on the balance of power, which it was the interest of all the sovereigns to resist, there was none against an encroachment on the liberties of mankind, when they were all ranged on the same side. These consequences did not fail to follow. In the year 1820, the allied monarchs issued a declaration, which had been admitted by the late marquis of Londonderry to be opposed to the fundamental laws of these realms, and by the right hon. gentleman opposite (Mr. Canning) to strike at the root of the British constitution. In that document, the revolution of Spain was adverted to in the very first sentence, and the Holy Allies openly avowed, that Naples was only first attacked because she was most easily subdued. He mentioned this, because it would be recollected, that a year and a half ago our ministers had no notion whatever, that the question of the invasion of Spain would be discussed at the Congress of Verona. He mentioned this, merely to shew how liable ministers were to be deceived, and how steadily the Holy Allies pursued their favourite object of enslaving mankind, while those who were opposed to them were often asleep at their posts.

He had already said, that he did not mean to advert to the policy which this country had pursued in the late invasion of Spain, he wished, however, to call the attention of the House to the professions and promises of France, professions which had been so deceitfully made and promises which had been so scandalously violated, The speech of the king of France, at the opening of the Chambers, contained the following passage;—Let Ferdinand 7th. be free to give to his people institutions, which they cannot hold but from him, and which, by securing their tranquillity, would dissipate the just inquietudes of France. Hostilities shall cease from that moment." The interpretation which was put upon that passage was, that the king of France did not desire that the tree institutions which Spain enjoyed should be abolished, but only that they should emanate from the king. If any doubt could exist on that point, it would be removed by referring to the note of sir Charles Stuart to Mr. Secretary Canning, dated Feb. 10 of the last year. Sir Charles Stuart had communicated with M. Chateaubriand, respecting the passage in the king of France's speech, which he had just read to the House, and the answer of M. Chateaubriand, as given in the despatch, was this:—he said, that "whatever may be the interpretation which is attached to his Majesty's expressions by those who are determined to consider all the measures recommended by this (the French) Court, to be proofs of their desire to re-establish an absolute government in Spain, he never can believe, that the communications which have taken place with the British cabinet have been misunderstood to a degree which can authorize such suppositions." The suspicions alluded to were, that it was the wish of France to see an absolute government re-established in Spain. It was unnecessary to state how shamefully all these protestations had been disregarded. Let the House bear this in mind, in considering the value of the representations which have been lately made by the prince de Polignac, with respect to South America. It was the policy of the French government never to hesitate a moment in making any promises or professions, and never to hesitate a moment in violating them, whenever it suited their purpose. In doing this, they did but follow the letter of the instructions which Louis 14th. had left to posterity. That monarch had declared, that "treaties were to be interpreted, like compliments, as meaning a great deal less than they expressed, and that the more express and decisive the words of the engagement were, the more proper and excusable it was to violate it." The French, on entering Spain, declared, that their sole object was, to establish a constitution less democratical than that which was then established, but at the same time fully securing the constitutional liberties of the people of Spain. It was important to take this point into consideration, if for no other purpose than because it furnished a key to the secret of the success of France in Spain.

Passing from the conduct of France to that of the Spaniards themselves, it might be observed, that in carrying a revolution into effect, there were two means of securing ultimate success. One was that adopted by the revolutionists of this country in 1688, and which consisted in conciliating all interests; in giving a just degree of power to all orders; and in consulting the feelings and opinions of all classes in the State; the other was that pursued by the French Jacobins in 1793, which established an exclusively democratical constitution, and which persecuted, by massacres and proscriptions, all other orders of the State. It was the misfortune of Spain to adopt neither of those plans. The Spaniards adopted the opinion, that a democratical constitution, a constitution emanating from the people, was best calculated to secure the happiness of the community; but while strongly attached to democracy, they were naturally generous and humane; and, while they established a form of government, which raised all the privileged classes against it, they were so far from imitating the massacres and proscriptions of the French Jacobins, that they behaved with the utmost forbearance and kindness to their opponents, and, even suffered those who were notoriously disaffected to the constitution, and endeavouring to destroy the independence of Spain, to go unpunished and unmolested. The consequence of this was, that these two great bodies were ready to join in a combination against the liberties of Spain—one consisting of the privileged classes, who were naturally opposed to a liberal order of things, and the other consisting of the lowest rabble and notorious violators of all law—persons who had been fed by the convents, or had robbed on the highways—persons who were hostile to the then existing constitution, because it deprived them of their usual means of support, by establishing peace, justice and industry, in place of the indolence, rioting, and anarchy on which they had formerly subsisted. Those who knew the army of the Faith knew that it entirely consisted of mendicants and robbers—of drones supported by the indiscriminate charity of the monks—and of ruffians supported by depredation and pillage. Having obtained the support of the friends of a moderate constitution, and also that of the rabble, which had been engendered in the filth of the old monarchy, the success of the French army proceeded without interruption. They met with scarcely any opposition, and where opposition was offered, it was rather the opposition of individuals, than the opposition of a party. There were, however, some individuals, who, during that short and unfortunate struggle, behaved in a manner worthy of the freedom for which they contended. There was the virtuous and eloquent Arguelles—the courageous and patriotic Mina—the brave and heroic Alava—men whose merits would never be forgotten, until the fire of patriotism had ceased to glow in the bosom of mankind. What, however, had been the result of the success attendant on the French arms? had it established in Spain any thing which deserved the name of a constitution? had it established in Spain any of those institutions which his people were to receive from no other hands than those of Ferdinand? had it established even the French charter, or any other guarantee for public and private liberty? it was notorious that it had effected none of these objects. All it had yet effected was, to show the people of Spain, that their invaders had betrayed that party amongst them which had joined them from motives of self-interest, and had done worse than betray those who had joined them in the hopes of receiving from their hands a free constitution.

It was worth while to consider how the French army had behaved in another respect. The proclamation which the Duke d'Angoulême had issued on crossing the Bidassoa, contained, amidst the bombastic phraseology with which such documents were usually filled, the following clear and explicit declaration: "Spaniards; every thing will be done for you and with you. The French are not, and wish not to be, any thing but your auxiliaries. Your standard alone shall float over your cities. We do not pretend either to impose laws on you or to occupy your country. We wish nothing but your deliverance. As soon as we shall have obtained it, we will return to our own country, happy to have preserved a generous people from the miseries produced by revolution, and which experience has taught us but too well to appreciate." Such were the professions which the French leader had put forth upon entering the Spanish territory. He meant to say nothing against either the talent or the generosity with which the royal duke had afterwards conducted himself; but he would say this—that for the sake of the independence of Spain, and indeed of every other country, it would have been ten times better that a duke of Alva should have been sent there, than an individual, whose moderation could not protect his promises from violation by others, and whose mild qualities only tended to rivet faster the degrading fetters he had fastened upon Spain.

Let the House look, for a moment, at the situation of that unfortunate nation. In all countries there were men whose talent and information qualified them for leading their compatriots in the various departments of arts and literature, to which they had devoted their attention—men, whose intelligence placed them above the age in which they lived, and rendered them the instructors and benefactors of posterity—men, who were "not of one age, but of all time," and who, "sui memores alios fecêre merendo." Of men whose genius and ability conferred honour on the generation to which they belonged, Spain was not, a few short months ago, entirely destitute; but if they wished to understand the melancholy condition to which she was reduced, they must view her as she now was, shorn of all the glory which she derived from their intelligence. All who were qualified to enlighten the darkness in which she had been so long involved—all who could warn her against the evils of popular licentiousness, and teach her the blessings of real liberty—all who were fitted to give solidity to her unsettled constitution, and to rally her children round the banner of constitutional freedom, had been either swept away by the French invasion, or were now living in that state of insecurity to which despotism always consigned those whose enmity it apprehended. The condition of Spain was, therefore, worse at present than it was before the establishment of the constitutional system; because, formerly, men if they could not speak as they thought, could still think as they pleased, and might, if they kept their opinions to themselves, peruse in private Locke, and Montesquieu, and, various other authors, whose works were now placed under the interdict of the Inquisition. The case was now far different. During the period of the constitution, all the men who dared to act and think for themselves, made themselves known to their countrymen; and the consequence was, that, at the present moment, they were universally persecuted by the priests and the ignorant rabble which they kept in their pay. At Saragossa upwards of a thousand persons had been imprisoned, almost for no other offence than that they were able, to read and write. In other towns, men had been massacred, because they were too enlightened to join in the schemes of an indolent priesthood; and, in one place, several individuals had had their eyes torn out because they wished to impart to their fellow-citizens the blessings of education and freedom. If the French possessed the power of restraining such excesses in their allies—excesses which originated from their success, and could not have taken place without it—it might have formed some palliation for their crime of aggression; but they did not even possess that power. Except in the fortresses which they occupied, they could not prevent their captives from becoming victims. In the towns, where they were not present, all the friends of liberal knowledge were left unprotected to the fury of a despotic aristocracy, animated by the vindictive spirit of ignorance and superstition.

Having thus examined the question in its relation to the interests of Spain, he now came to examine it in its relation to the interests of Great Britain. He had been told by some persons, that it was a matter of no consequence to this country, whether France retained or evacuated Spain; as the Holy Alliance had neither the inclination nor the power to continue such a career of iniquitous aggression. What! after all the blood and treasure which we had expended to maintain the balance of power in Europe, could it be indifferent to us, whether France was or was not to command the resources of Spain? Was it of little consequence whether, in future wars, we were to have to contend with France alone, or with France and Spain united against us? For the last hundred and thirty years it had been; a leading point in our policy to detach Spain from the arms of France; and it had been represented by our historians, as one of the most infamous acts of the infamous reign of Charles 2nd, that he had deserted his engagements with the former power, to obtain the pecuniary favours of Louis 14th. It was evident that the statesmen of France did not consider it the same matter of indifference that our statesmen did. They foresaw, that if Spain was allowed to enjoy a free constitution, she must, in any future war, fling her sword into the scale of England, and not into that of France; and, therefore, to obtain a safe frontier on the side of Spain, they deemed it necessary to crush at Madrid the rising spirit of liberty, and to bring back its noble aspirations once more to the degrading quietude of legitimacy and superstition.

With regard to the will of the Holy Allies to attack this country, he would beg leave to say a few words. It was evident, from every measure that they took, that if there was one thing which they hated more than another, it was the freedom of discussion. The lord chancellor of England appeared to be peculiarly sensitive to any remarks made upon his conduct; but the lord chancellor of England with all his sensitiveness, was not half so sensitive to them, as were the members of the Holy Alliance. It appeared to him like a moral retribution, that those who had the power of keeping others in misery, should be themselves particularly irritable when even verbally attacked by others. If any proof were wanted that they were thus irritable, he would refer to their recent interference with the internal government of Switzerland. At the peace of Paris, and indeed every year since, that country had received from the members of the Holy Alliance strong assurances of their profound respect, and reiterated protestations of their desire to maintain with it all the relations of peace and amity: and yet in that very country, which for so many centuries had afforded an invio- lable asylum to all the victims of religious and political persecution, had they been guilty of an action, which, up to the present time, was unprecedented in the public history of Europe—he meant the compelling an independent state to expel from her territory persons residing in it under the protection of regular passports. In former times, it had been customary for independent states, in consequence of particular conventions made with each other, to deliver up individuals charged with certain criminal offences; but in the instance to which he referred, the parties who were forced from Switzerland were charged with no crime but that of having quitted their own country with the leave of their own government, because they entertained political opinions different from those of the persons in power in it. Such an outrage, it ought to be recollected, had taken place in that country, in which a distinguished author had said, only fifty years ago, that "every than was at liberty to criticise kings, without fear and without flattery." That liberty, however, no man could at present venture to take there. The Holy Alliance had declared it to be contrary to their sovereign will and pleasure, and, freedom of discussion was, therefore, with the inhabitants of Switzerland, entirely at an end. If, then, they could act in a manner so iniquitous and oppressive towards Switzerland, had we any reason to think that they would not act in a similar manner towards us, if they had similar power? Certainly not. Every thing they had done—every thing they had left undone, convinced him, that if they had the power, they would not want the will to put down the free discussion which was at once the pride and support of the British nation. The House knew, that the trifling share of discussion which was admitted into the newspapers of Switzerland, and which had so galled the withers of this confederation of despots, did not carry with it to the world half that weight which was contained in the unshackled productions of our own country. The members of the Holy Alliance were also acquainted with that fact; and, being so, could not but feel a much greater animosity towards the free press of England, than they did towards the comparitively feeble press of Switzerland. They hated, too, the discussions of our free Parliament, and feared, not only the speeches made from the Opposition side of the House, but also those which were made from the ministerial benches. The hon. member for Yorkshire, and the right hon. secretary himself, were deemed, and absolutely de scribed by them, as advocates of revolution* scarcely less open and less dangerous than his hon. friend the member for Westminster (sir F. Burdett) or any other gentleman who ranked himself among the enemies of despotism. He would give the House an instance of the manner in which they sometimes condescended to criticize the productions which emanated from the press of England. In one of the papers which were laid upon the table in the course of last, year, it was said—either by M. Montmorency or, by M. Chateaubriand, he forgot exactly which—that it must be evident to all impartial observers, that Spain had attacked France through the medium of the English newspapers. If this were so, and if it were thought a sufficient reason for making war upon Spain, might it not be also thought a sufficient reason for making war upon England, which had allowed herself to be made the instrument of attack? He might be told, that France, which was encouraged to attack Spain by a knowledge of the weakness of her adversary, would be reluctant to attack England, from a knowledge of her strength. But, in reply to such an argument, he would merely say, that, as long as Ireland remained in its present distracted state, so long would England not be invulnerable. Whilst there were no elements out of which to form a cabinet resolved to do justice to the Catholic population of Ireland, there would be no elements out of which to form a permanent system of national security. Considering the irritated state of public feeling in Ireland, and the hopes of its inhabitants, often excited only to be as often disappointed, he looked upon it to be morally impossible, that the people of that country should listen much longer with patience to the arguments of the right hon. secretary, or consider a cabinet to be actuated by friendly views towards them, when one half of its members was for granting their claims as just, and the other half for rejecting them as extravagant; and when they only united to excite debates which they could not settle, and to raise hopes which they could not satisfy.

Let it not be supposed that in making these observations he was disclosing our weak point to our enemies. The ordinary organs of intelligence to France were always shewing to their readers the point in which we were most vulnerable. Gentlemen who were in the habit of spending their leisure time in their respective counties, might think that all the world was engaged in admiring the strength, and greatness, and glory of England; whereas, any man, who had been ever so short a time upon the continent, could not fail to observe, that, for one reason or another, all the nations of it were anxious to aim a dart at our side, and to inflict on us a severe and deadly wound. Anxious they all were for that object, but none of them so anxious as that blind and infatuated party which was now uppermost in France, and was endeavouring, with a zeal that he trusted would defeat its object, to restore the old despotism to that gallant and high-minded nation. There was nothing which it sought with so much earnestness—nothing which it longed so ardently to consummate—as the annihilation of the British constitution; the existence of which it considered to be inimical to its own objects, and fatal to its own supremacy.

If, then, such a feeling existed against us upon the continent, and if that feeling was cherished and assisted by the allied sovereigns, it remained for the House to consider, how they should oppose that formidable confederation. The first and most natural means of opposing it was by breaking it. That measure, however, he conceived to be impossible. The ruling principle of the policy of Austria for the last eighty years had been fear. At first they feared Frederic of Prussia; then Napoleon of France; and now they feared Alexander of Russia. Their special dread was, lest the emperor of Russia should conquer Turkey; and in order to dissuade him from it, they magnified to his eyes the danger of military insurrections, and persuaded him to concern himself in the west instead of the east: hence Austria and Russia were firmly united. Prussia stood in a situation not much dissimilar to that of Austria; and if the House turned its eyes to France, it would see that the French party which was now seeking to establish an aristocracy as a part of that monarchy, felt that their interests were different from those of the nation at large—that foreign aid was therefore necessary to their support, and that of all other powers Russia was the most ready and the most able to afford it. Any body who attended but slightly to French affairs, could not fail to remark, that the emperor of Russia gave and refused orders and decorations to the ministers of the king of France, just as they obeyed or resisted his requests; and that the policy of his cabinet was that at the present moment most in favour at the palace of the Tuilleries.

As, then, the interest of the allies urged them to act in concert with each other, he looked upon it as next to impossible to break asunder their confederation; and as a million and a half of men were ready to obey their commands, it became the House to consider well what means of defence they could oppose, if necessary, to this almost overwhelming force. What, then, was the defence of Great Britain? Every animal had some means of defence afforded to it by nature; and so too had Great Britain. Pier natural defence consisted in her navy. Let them, therefore, see how that defence now stood. It was clear, that the members of the Holy Alliance intended to extend their system, if possible, to South America. The made professions to this country, that they had no such intentions; but that circumstance made no difference in his opinion, as he recollected, that they had made similar professions with regard to Spain. He was persuaded, from the best intelligence that he had been able to collect, that they did entertain intentions inimical to the independence of South America. They would not, indeed, send an armed force into that part of the world to execute their orders, as they had done in the case of Spain, for there could be no chance of success from it, when opposed by the united navies of England and North America; but they would send agents and missions to raise up contending interests—to promote discord and civil war—to set town against town, and brother against brother, and to undo all that had been done in favour of freedom and civilization, in the hope that the parties, after they had been worn out by a long series of civil commotions, might at last make application to them to be taken under the protection of monarchical government. If they should not be able to reduce them to such a low condition as to ask for a prince from their hands, they would still endeavour to reduce them to such a degree of misery, as would be a warning to all other states not to imitate their baneful example.

The best way of resisting measures so diabolical would be, by informing the members of the Holy Alliance, and the French government in particular, that any attempt to conquer South America by Spanish forces, whilst the French army was in Spain, would be considered as an attempt to conquer them by France for the Holy Alliance. The French army was now doing the duty of an armed police in Spain, and whilst it was performing that duty, it set free a number of Spanish soldiers to its own amount. Even upon the principal of the right hon. secretary himself, as stated in the papers now upon the table, we were bound to be neutral, only so long as Spain attacked her colonies—not when she was assisted in her attack by a third party. Now, if Spain were perfectly at liberty, there was nothing in the law of nations to prevent her from availing herself of the aid of a third party; on the other hand, if she were not sui juris—if she were under the control and dominion of France—the means which might be taken to reconquer her colonies, though ostensibly the efforts of Spain, would in effect be the efforts of the Holy Alliance. He should have wished that his majesty's ministers had gone a step further, and have declared in the face of the world, that Great Britain would not permit any succours to proceed from Old Spain across the Ocean, for the subjugation of the South American states, while the armies of France remained in the peninsula. Let France withdraw her army and abandon Spain, and then it would remain to be seen, whether the latter possessed the remotest chance of recovering her dominions on the American continent. He recommended this policy to his majesty's government, because he did not wish the Holy Alliance to deceive us again in the same easy manner that they had deceived us before.

He would now take the opportunity of saying a word or two on the papers which had been laid on the table. With one or two exceptions, he thought that it would hardly be possible to give better answers to the questions of the French government, than those which had been given by the right hon. secretary. But, though such was the opinion he entertained of them, he could not help observing that, when they were stripped of their ornament, all they amounted to was this:—"You have cheated us so often when we have met you, that we cannot consent to meet you again. You have falsified your word to us so repeatedly, that we are at last obliged to tell you that we think your faith is not to be depended on." If that were really the belief of the right hon. gentleman, then he called upon the parliament and the government to go one step further, and, as they had no trust in the professions of the Holy Alliance, to show all possible jealousy of their future proceedings. He knew that there were some gentlemen so particularly sensitive when the term war was mentioned, as to be afraid of showing any jealousy or ill-will that was calculated to lead to it; but he thought the members of this unholy confederation were at present so distressed by their past struggles, and so busy in repairing their shattered finances by British capital, that for three or four years to come they would not be anxious to go to war with Great Britain. If we waited for those three or four years, and allowed them in the mean time to pursue their schemes without interruption, he should not be surprised if, at the end of that period, they should have the audacity to offer to our consideration propositions as degrading and humiliating as they had recently offered to the consideration of Switzerland. If they did, he trusted that the ancient spirit of this country would reject them with the scorn they merited, and boldly dare the struggle with them all.

In the remarks which he had that evening offered to the House, he had the satisfaction to know, that the cause which he had been pleading was not a private but a general cause—was not the mere cause of the independence of England, but the cause of the independence of Spain, of Europe, of the world—was not the mere cause of this or that political theory, but the glorious cause of humanity, of civilization, of science, of freedom, of every thing that dignified and adorned our common nature. The present contest upon the continent was, on the part of the Holy Alliance, to subdue in man all that connected him with a superior state of being, and to degrade him to a level with the brute creation. "Conscientiam generis humani aboleri arbitrantur, expulsis insuper sapientæ professoribus atque omni bonâ arte in exilium actâ, ne quid usquam honestum occurreret." Such was the policy that these conspirators against the moral dignity of human nature followed and avowed. Every success that we gained over it was not only calculated to support the interest of Great Britain, but to establish the independence of the world and the1 glory of mankind, and to secure to ourselves the blessings of the latest posterity of every nation under heaven.—The noble lord then concluded by moving,

"That an humble address be presented to his majesty, that he would be graciously pleased to give directions that there be laid before this House, copies or extracts of any communications that have been received from the government of France respecting the evacuation of Spain by the French army."

Sir Robert Wilson

expressed his solicitude to offer himself to the notice of the House on a question of the highest importance to the foreign policy of this country, involving the dearest interests of ten millions of Spaniards, and collaterally affecting the future happiness of several millions of the people of Portugal. With this impression of its importance, he rose to support the motion of the noble lord, differing, however, with him in some points, persuaded that the promulgation of such sentiments as those which had fallen from the noble lord must prove of the greatest value, not alone to the people of Spain, but to the people, of every nation, whose independence and liberties were compromised by the success of the unprincipled aggression of France. Of that atrocious aggression, (it was some consolation to think, that no subject of a free country ventured to be a defender. Even success which, in too many instances, was wont to extenuate crime, had, in this case, only added horror and enormity to the original offence. It was impossible—after the proofs which the government of France had unequivocally given of its policy, and after the avowed intentions of the Holy Alliance—it was impossible, he thought, that a British statesman should be found, who did not view with jealousy and alarm the military occupation of Spain. For his own part, he considered that occupation as a scandal to the character of this country; and that the ministers of the Crown were at least bound to afford to parliament the fullest explanation on a question so intimately connected with our dearest interests. The noble lord had justly observed, that we should have declared broadly to the Spanish government, that no interference on her part would be allowed with South America; so long as the armies of France should remain in the peninsula. It was an omission, which if the correspondence which had been laid on the table had supplied, would have made the conduct pursued by the British government, on that part of the question highly satisfactory. And he regretted that omission the more, in consequence of information which he had heard within the last twenty-four hours. It had been communicated to him, that the Spanish government had proposed to send an ambassador to this country, for the purpose of meeting the deputies from the South American states, and entering with them into an arrangement, with the view of obtaining for Old Spain commercial preferences. Now, if that information was well founded, he should consider such an arrangement prejudicial to British interests, unbecoming the character of our government to accede to, and most disreputable to the principles and policy of the South American governments. It was their duty to recollect, that, they were contending not alone for their own interests; but that, in the issue of that great struggle, the liberties of the other states of the world were involved. For, what commercial advantages did the Spanish government propose to itself by such an arrangement? What, but the power to raise money, in order to be enabled to pay France for the continuance of its troops to subjugate the people of Spain? The inability to maintain that army, from the want of resources on the part of the Spanish government, though a slow, was perhaps likely to be an efficient remedy. But, even that remedy would be prevented, if any such arrangement with the South American states was carried into effect, upon the principle he had adverted to. If, on the contrary, it was made the basis of any arrangement, that the armies, of France should evacuate the peninsula, such an adjustment would be highly honourable. All that the people of Spain demanded, was the power to regulate themselves. Believed from the overwhelming power of the French army, if the people of Spain were deserving of liberal institutions, they would obtain them, or, at all events, it was most probable that the king would then feel himself under the necessity of fulfilling his engagements to his subjects. For he could assert upon the best authority—authority that needed only to be mentioned in that House, to be received with the credit that his distinguished reputation merited—he meant general Alava—that king Ferdinand, when under no restraint, gratuitously pledged himself to a general amnesty, avowing at the same time that he disclaimed all political proscription, any vindictive re-action, and above all, that it was his determination to uphold all the pecuniary engagements of the constitutional government. Nay, he had gone further, and declared his readiness to accede to a representative system, if such should appear to be the wish of the people of Spain. What, then, was the natural inference from such a statement? It was this, that the government of France alone prevented the Spanish king from fulfilling his solemn and spontaneous pledges.—He (sir R. Wilson) felt it but justice to the right hon. gentleman, his majesty's secretary for foreign affairs, to declare, that he believed no man more sincere in his hopes that Spain would have been able successfully to resist the aggression of France. He gave the right hon. gentleman credit also for a desire to preserve that strict neutrality which he professed, whatever conduct other parties might have pursued. But, in making those acknowledgments, he had heard with regret the right hon. secretary assert, that the evacuation of Spain by the armies of France would be an event which, under existing circumstances, he should deplore, for the sake of humanity. No man would go further than he was inclined to go, to restore peace and tranquillity to that distracted country; but, he would never consent to purchase a temporary and partial benefit, at the sacrifice of the great, and permanent, and comprehensive interests, in which the happiness of the civilised world was involved. As he before stated, it was the presence of the French army that had prevented that general amnesty, which the king of Spain had promised, and which would to Spain have been the best guarantee of returning peace. In the alternations of human events, humanity was not always a pacific quality—it sometimes assumed, and necessarily assumed, a belligerent character. To the people of Spain we owed every measure of relief that their misfortunes needed, and that our power enabled us to afford. We owed it to the acknowledged and ancient policy of this country, to recover that influence which had so long existed. Spain free was the natural ally of Great Britain. Spain enslaved could find no other connexion but in the arms of France. He had given the right hon. secretary full credit for the sincerity of his intentions towards Spain, when the odious aggression of the French government was about to be carried into effect. He could not, however, extend this approval to the policy that had been acted upon by his majesty's government at Verona. He knew we that there existed, both in the aristocracy and in the commercial classes, a predominating opinion, that no course ought to be taken which might possibly involve this country in war. Some there were who felt indisposed to the Spanish constitution, because they conceived it not calculated for permanence, from the want of a second chamber. There was another, and he believed the prevailing party, who, though hostile to the aggression of the government of France, and not disinclined to inflict on it the punishment it deserved, were still apprehensive, that if Great Britain interposed, France would have been thrown into a revolutionary attitude, and the safety of the Bourbons endangered. There was, however, another course of policy which, happily for Spain and for our own reputation, this country might have pursued at Verona, and which he was prepared to prove would have been effectual. We might have protested, without any menace, against the principles on which the Holy Alliance had proposed to act, reserving to ourselves the right of subsequently taking that course which our own sense of duty indicated. That course, he was prepared to contend, would have been effectual. And why? Because, if England had not avowed a determined neutrality—if she had reserved to herself the power of taking any course her interests warranted, after she had entered her protest against the principle, the Holy Alliance would have faultered. They knew well, that if Great Britain was disposed to prevent the realization of their views, there was scarcely an inhabitant of the many countries from the Niemen to the Adriatic, that would not have rallied under its standard. The king of France would never have dared to stir a step after such a declaration from this government; for he who had acknowledged that the owed his crown to the friendship of the Prince Regent of England, well knew that he could not wear it long without our support. But, when once British neutrality was avowed, from that moment all their fears vanished—from that moment the despots of the continent felt themselves freed from every difficulty. Then it was that France proceeded to combine, in her attack upon the Spanish people, a maritime and military co-operation—then it was that blockading squadrons were sent against the ports of Spain; that Cadiz, Barcelona, and Alicant were shut up. He would put it to any lord of the Admiralty in that House to say, whether, if Great Britain had suspended her declaration of neutrality, a single frigate would have ventured out of any of the ports of France; much less have commanded the gut of Gibraltar, boarding every vessel, English or otherwise, that was pursuing its destination. The moment the word neutrality escaped the British ministry, then it was that the king of Spain had determined to throw himself into the arms of France, and that the treasons of Abisbal, Morillo, and Ballasteros, were generated. From that unfortunate moment also, dismay and despair, pervaded the government and the armies of Spain. He knew it had been said, that the constitutional party in Spain consisted only of a small fractional part of the population. For the sake of the argument he would grant it hypothetically; yet it was to be recollected, that if it was that fractional part, it comprehended all that was enlightened, patriotic, intelligent, and amiable in the kingdom of Spain. Whatever were the faults of the constitutional government—and he did not appear there as its advocate in all its measures—their efforts proved that they possessed hearts which qualified them to preside over the institutions of a free state. Another objection was imputed to them on the score of religious intolerance. It was true, that circumstances compelled them to declare an exclusive religion; yet there was not a man amongst them who was not persuaded that political freedom could not exist without religious toleration. It was this conviction that armed the Church of France against the free institutions of Spain—it was the aversion which that intolerant Priesthood felt, that gave birth and vigour to the religious crusade against its independence. Theocracy they determined was to be maintained in Spain. For that purpose the unfortunate emperor of Austria was induced to interfere—for that purpose the emperor Alexander, no matter what his own religious doctrine was, was impelled to dictate; because he knew that wherever the Catholic religion was exclusively dominant, it was a most efficient instrument in shackling—not alone the minds, but the persons of its votaries: but he denied that the constitutional party was that fractional portion of the people of Spain which some persons assumed. Its history from the beginning to the subdivision of the constitution, proved that it was supported by a very considerable body of the Spanish nation. It was maintained by an army of 10,000 men. It was assented to, because it was demanded by the people, by a reluctant king. When attacked by a foreign army it occupied an army of 100,000 men for eight months to subvert it. But above all, it required the intrigues of the confederated tyrants of Europe, and ten millions of gold, to be expended, before its institutions were destroyed. But if there remained a doubt of its strength, the existing state of Spain was the most unquestionable proof. If the constitutional party were that contemptible faction, how came it that France continued her armies in Spain, and that her despotic flag waved over every fortress of the peninsula? He was not one of those defenders of the Spanish people who were prepared to state that in their defence of their country they had entitled themselves to the admiration of mankind; or even that they had satisfied all the hopes that the character of the struggle had induced many to form. But, he did feel that it was of importance that their reputation should not be undeservedly depreciated. It was to be borne in mind, that the Spanish people, at the time of the French invasion, were not in a state of anarchy—that they were subjected to a government to which they had entrusted their protection. That the government on which they depended did not discharge its duty, he was prepared to admit. It had left the nation in a state of nakedness and impoverishment. It had unhappily provoked the nobility, by making war on their privileges, and it had exasperated the Church, by a diminution of the tithes to the extent of one half. In making these charges he did not attribute to them any bad motive; but the effects certainly were most unfortunate to Spain. Nay, it quarrelled with that very army which had established the success of the constitutional system. It did that to quiet the alarms of France. It did so, under the fallacious but honest hope of disarming the jealousy of the Holy Al- liance. It acted, also, under what, in their case, was a mistaken impression, namely that a standing army was inimical to liberty. Perhaps he could not give a better description of the feeling that actuated the Spanish people, than by describing that spirit of which he was a witness, in the Isle of Cadiz, just previous to its surrender. The people were not responsible for what their government did, and the constitutional party at that time remained, with their honour unsullied, quite prepared for resistance, and ready to receive any protection which this country might be inclined to give. They all knew that Cadiz communicated with the continent by a long neck of land, which required a considerable force to defend it. The place itself was 25 miles in circumference and required at least 25,000 men for its defence. What, he asked, was the real force of Cadiz, after the capture of the Trocadero (where 1,500 men were slaughtered), while the French fleet commanded the entire coast? The whole force amounted to 9,700 men. Not a chevaux-de-frize—not a palisade was erected. There were no stores in the magazines. No provisions could be obtained. It was true there were plenty of provisions in the town; but it was directed, that those provisions should not be taken, because if they were made use of, it was feared that the inhabitants would have evinced a hostile spirit. In the military chest, on the day the city surrendered, there were only 15 dollars to pay the army; and on the batteries there were but five pieces of brass cannon fit for service. These were proofs which could not be shaken, that the Spaniards, during the siege, were not unmindful of the prowess and glory of their ancestors. While the bombardment was going on, men, women and children might be seen animating each other to resistance against the unprincipled invaders. There was a forlorn hope, consisting, in part, of men of high consideration, who, at that critical period, were quite prepared to sacrifice their lives for the good of their fellow-countrymen. A Spaniard was capable of the most heroic exertion, of the noblest effort, when once his mind was roused and excited in a just and honourable cause. He was bound to defend the government of Spain, not against any positive charge, but against certain remarks which had been indulged in on a former occasion, when some allusion had been made to the deposition, of the king of Spain. He knew, that to depose a king for a few days looked like a folly; it appeared to be an act of insanity; and yet he would venture to say, that that very act, so much condemned, and treated in so sarcastic a manner, was the salvation of the life of the king of Spain and of the royal family. It was only under an act of the constitution that the king could, by possibility, have been brought to Cadiz. He was determined to erect a despotism. He was determined to persecute every man who thought liberally, and more especially those who were at the head of the new government. This was well-known; and such was the general feeling against him, that if he had fallen into the hands of any body of Spanish troops, it would have been impossible to have prevented them from executing a sanguinary act of vengeance. It was for his preservation and for that purpose only, that a temporary deposition was resorted to. Those who advised it well knew that the people would cheerfully obey any act which the constitutional authorities sanctioned; and, in consequence of their policy, the king was suffered to proceed on his journey unmolested. The reward of those who had thus ensured his safety, was an unrelenting proscription directed against them, and all their connexions. The delay in the evacuation of Spain by France was occasioned, it was said, by the necessity of preserving tranquillity in that country. But, how could he place any confidence in the promises of France, when he recollected that the duke d'Angoulême himself refused the proffered mediation of England? That proffer was made in the plainest manner during the siege of Cadiz; and the answer was, that France would not allow the interference of any power, much less that of England, she being determined to efface every shadow of the constitution. What in other respects had been the conduct of the duke d'Angoulême? Did he not, in violation of all honour—in opposition to every feeling of clemency—surrender to his most implacable enemies, the brave, the patriotic, the virtuous, but, he grieved to say, the unfortunate Riego? He did so—although he must have known, that to that gallant individual's personal courage the king owed his very life. But posterity would do him justice. His name would live in the annals of history, gloriously associated with those patriots who had died in the cause of liberty—while the names of the duke d'Angoulême and of the murderers of the gallant Spaniard, would descend to posterity, accompanied with loathing and execration. It was said that Riego had been guilty of cruelty. He denied the assertion; and he denied it on this ground—that if such a fact could have been adduced—if such a fact had existed—the regency of Spain would have introduced that fact into the indictment against Riego [hear]. He therefore would maintain, that the execution of Riego was a foul murder. He hoped that this country would yet take that station which, from her political, commercial, and moral energies, she had a right to assume. He did not call on the country to go to war; but this he would say, that she ought to oppose the confederacy which had been set on foot against the liberties, not merely of Spain, but of all Europe. The House and the country must look with horror and detestation towards that combination of sovereigns, who were united solely for the purpose of preventing the extension of liberal principles—whose great object was, to retard the improvement, the civilization, the happiness, of the human race.

He now came to a point of much delicacy. He knew how unpleasant it was to request the attention of the House, when the subject on which they were to be addressed was connected with any matter of a personal nature. He had hitherto refrained from adverting to any transaction of the last year, so far as he was himself personally concerned. He was desirous to do so, not that he shrank from any personal responsibility, because he felt that whatever he had done was done in the discharge of a conscientious duty. He had wished to overlook entirely, or to treat with indulgence, any animadversions which, during his absence, might have been made on his conduct. But, when an attempt was made to despoil him of his honour—to deprive him of that which alone was left to recompense him for past services—he felt himself bound, as a representative of the people, from that tribunal, where he was placed on a level with the most exalted, to repel the charge—to refute the slander—and to vindicate his character. He did this fearlessly, it was true; but he did it under circumstances that were most painful to his feelings. It was necessary for him to make a short statement to the House, relative to events in which he had been an actor. No gen- tleman who heard him could, he believed, suppose that motives of personal vanity urged him to make that statement. He hoped every honourable member would put his band on his heart and say, whether, if he had received such treatment as he (sir R. W.) had met with, he would not have felt indignant, and whether he would not, with pride, have seized the first opportunity to meet every charge that might have been alleged against him? His exultation at the certainty that he could repel every slander which had been uttered against him, was necessarily mingled with that regret which every man must feel, when called upon to be the narrator of his own achievements. There was no individual, he believed, who was not aware that he (sir R. W.) had worn certain honourable insignia, which he had not purchased—which he had earned in the field—and which were bestowed on him, with the approbation of all whose approbation was of value. The first of these was the insignia of the order of Maria Theresa. It was conferred on him for his share in a service which, for bold daring, promptitude of execution, and brilliancy of success, was not excelled by any military achievement of the present day—he alluded to the rescue of the emperor of Austria. That monarch had advanced a considerable way from the allied troops, when he suddenly found himself in the presence of two French divisions by whom he was surrounded. No sooner was the fact ascertained, than the cry of "Rescue the Emperor" became universal. A charge was immediately made for that purpose. The cavalry were opposed by a large mass of infantry, supported by cannon. The charge was, however, irresistible; the French were obliged to give way, and a complete victory was obtained. The most important result of that victory was the preservation of the emperor. For this service, he was rewarded with the order of Maria Theresa. The emperor ordered a medal to be struck, which was to be presented to different officers; but finding immediately afterwards, that he had it in his power to confer the order of Maria Theresa, he desired lord Minto to forward to him (sir R. W.) a letter, stating that he had bestowed that order on him, and requesting him to retain both the medal and the order "as a mark of his approbation and lasting gratitude." The next order he received was that of St. George of Russia, which was conferred on hind for his services in the battle of Lutzen. After that battle, the emperor of Russia addressed him in language which he could not state to the House. It would be sufficient to say, that the emperor was full of professions of everlasting gratitude. He wore, at the time, the grand cross of the order of St. George, which he took off and presented to him—an honour, he might be permitted to observe, which was not conferred on any other officer. The next mark of approbation which he received was immediately after the battle of Dresden. It was his good fortune to be the first that mounted the parapet of a formidable battery. In scaling that battery, he happened to lose the insignia of the order of Maria Theresa; but the emperor immediately repaired the loss. In the letter which the emperor wrote to him on that occasion, he said—"Finding you have lost an order, and lost it in so gallant an effort, I hereby send you another;" and he again repeated his assurances of eternal gratitude. The next order he received was that of the Red Eagle of Prussia. When the king of Prussia sent that order to him, he expressed, in strong terms, his assurances of kindness and regard. In speaking of the injustice with which he had been treated, he wished, as much as possible, to except the king of Prussia, because he believed that monarch was placed in circumstances which compelled him to do things that he would willingly have avoided. The next order with which he was honoured, was for his conduct in the battle of Leipsic. On the second day, the Prussian forces were so considerably advanced, as to be separated from the Austrian and Russian army. Using that authority which his situation, and the confidence which was reposed in him prompted, he brought up some cavalry and guns, for the purpose of seizing a spot of ground which was on the point of being occupied by 12,000 French and a large body of Polish cavalry. He happily succeeded, and thus preserved the communication between the Prussians and the other allies, prince Schwartzenberg had forwarded a letter to the earl of Aberdeen, the British ambassador—he mentioned names because the individuals could be referred to—in which it was slated, that the emperor had conferred on him the order of the Golden Fleece, for that specific service. This annunciation was accompanied by another letter from the emperor of Austria, in which that monarch observed, that he (sir R. W.) was still accumulating debts against him; and he ended by stating, that his gratitude would be as lasting as his life. At Frankfort, the emperor of Russia and the grand duke Constantine had expressed themselves in the warmest terms of approbation, with respect to his various services and the order of Leopold was then conferred on him. He knew not any thing which had since taken place, which ought to have diminished the gratitude of the emperor of Russia, although that gratitude appeared to have vanished.

Now he would ask, having stated thus much, what was the amount of charge against him? Of what infamy had he been guilty? Why had he received that indignity, which had been studiously cast upon him? Was it for his conduct during the continental war? Was it for having professed himself willing to assist those who were struggling for independence? Was it for having been, at all times, the advocate of union and concord amongst all parties? Was it for giving liberty to a number of Frenchmen, who were detained in Spain under circumstances the most perilous? Was it for going to Spain—not as the friend of anarchy, for such he had been represented—but at the express invitation of the king himself, to proceed there and take the command of his army? Was it after he had gone there, for having paid every constitutional respect in his power to that monarch? And he would appeal to the ambassador of Saxony, and to general Alava, whether he had not been the means of giving protection to that sovereign, by pacifying the troops? These were his acts—these were his crimes, if they could be so denominated. He therefore appealed to the House, the country, and the world, whether the allied sovereigns, though they had torn the insignia from his breast, had been able to stamp shame upon his brow? Individually, he had nothing to say of those monarchs; but when they were mentioned as members of the Holy Alliance, he would, while they pursued their present course, always speak of them as enemies of the human race. One word he must say with respect to the king of Portugal. He had received an order from that monarch, which, under circumstances the most cruel, he felt it necessary to resign. Six weeks after he had done that act, he found in the English papers a letter from the king of Portugal, stating, that he had taken away the order. Now, that letter was antedated two days, for the purpose of making it appear that the order had been recalled before he resigned it. He pledged his honour to the fact. He would not appeal to any man for the truth of it; standing there, and pledging his own word to the correctness of the statement, was, he thought, quite sufficient [hear, hear]. After all, he believed the king of Portugal to be a man "more sinned against than sinning." He was certain, that the minister of that monarch had persuaded his master to do that which disgraced him as a sovereign; namely, to sign his name to a falsehood and a fraud.

He now came to a matter which nearly touched his feelings, and which showed the malignity of the French government towards him. He would ask, whether any man, who was a father, could hear without indignation of the petty tyranny with which his children had been visited in France? Two of his daughters, who were coming to this country from Paris, were wantonly arrested by the mayor of Calais: they were not taken to a customhouse, but to the town-house: they were there searched, and nothing improper having been found on them, they were released: but the mayor had previously told the captain of the vessel not to wait for them, as they were likely to be detained. An application was made to the French government on the subject, and the answer was, that positive information had been received, that those children were intended to be made the instruments of conveying political correspondence between the two countries. He knew not what information the French government was possessed of; but this statement implied that he was acquainted with some private political intrigue. This was a calumny and a falsehood. He had no political correspondence; and he had not received or written any letter, that might not go open to the whole world. If, however, the contrary were the fact, the officers might have obtained the papers by seizing them when his children came out of the hotel. But that would not do. Insult was the object of the government. They wanted the children to go down to the ship, that they might, for the purpose of mortifying them, arrest them there. They wished it to be supposed that they were left behind as criminals, and were anxious to expose them to all that indignity which a gaping crowd generally be- stowed on the objects of their attention. It was quite clear from another circumstance, that insult alone was their object. He had sent a female attendant to take the children over: it appeared that an order was given to the officers that she should not be searched, although she insisted on it. Now, he asked, if their object was to discover a secret correspondence, would not the officers have searched that female? It was, on the whole, one of the most base and unmanly acts, that was ever perpetrated. If the French government had made an apology, he would have said nothing on the subject; but as they only stated that they had received the information he had mentioned, he must designate the conduct which was pursued towards two children of such an age and such a sex as most ignoble and dishonourable. Sir Robert concluded by returning his sincere thanks to the right hon. gentleman (Mr. Canning) for the spirit and feeling with which he had noticed this outrage [hear, hear].

Mr. Littleton

said, that as it must have been painful to the gallant officer to state his own personal circumstances to the House, he seized the first moment to assure him, that no change which had been effected, either by the caprice of others, or from any indiscretion of his own, could induce him to view the gallant officer in any other light than as one of the brightest examples of chivalric courage and generosity, to be found in the history of modern times. With respect to that part of the gallant officer's speech which related to his conduct in Spain, he must say, that no man had a greater right to deplore the degraded situation of that country, than he who had himself contributed so much to its glory. He would not follow the noble lord through the long historical excursion which he had taken; but he must in the outset say, in justice to himself, that he did not oppose the noble lord's motion because he was dissatisfied with his ideas of constitutional independence, or because he did not deprecate the conduct of a great military state, in endeavouring to extend its boundary contrary to the dictates of national faith, and of international law. On the contrary he rejoiced exceedingly when he saw the government of his country disposed to resist the self-styled Holy-Alliance, in any scheme which they might have entertained of aggrandizement. Public opinion had been enlisted against the conduct of France with regard to the invasion of Spain, and he believed that act would not lessen the dangers which France, by taking up arms, supposed she could effectually turn aside; but, while this government acted properly in declaring that they would not allow the rights of nations to be invaded with impunity, he thought their conduct was wise and prudent, in keeping out of war if they could do so with honour. In conformity with that sentiment, he conceived the House was right in rejecting a motion made last year by the honourable member for Calne. If, at that time, they refused to sanction an address of the nature then proposed, he thought that the same consideration would now suggest the continuance of the same prudent system. When they refused their interference last year, it was because they felt the necessity of the temporary occupation of Spain by France. The same necessity, he believed, still existed; and therefore he thought they ought not to agree to a motion, which would place this country in a very difficult situation. Besides, if this government were, in a dictatorial manner, to state what they thought the conduct of France ought to be, it might wound the pride and dignity of that power, and lead to circumstances of an unpleasant nature. He never would advise that Great Britain should truckle to France; but good policy required that we should preserve a tone of moderation as well as of firmness in our dealings with that power. The king of France had, on several occasions, solemnly denied that he entertained any projects of ambition. As to the particular point of the evacuation, he would beg leave to refer the House to a despatch of Mr. Secretary Canning to sir Charles Stewart, dated March 31st, 1823. In that despatch, the right hon. secretary opposite called the attention of the ambassador to the position in which France and Spain were placed, and after pointing out that the British government had exhausted its efforts to effect an adjustment of the differences between them, and after stating the proceedings of our government at the congress, he went on to state the conditions on which France might avoid seeing this country in an attitude of hostility. He begged leave to call the attention of the House to the passage in that despatch, as it was most important with regard to the present question:

"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 his 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. 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 apprised 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 alteration towards either party, so long as the honour and just interests of Great Britain are equally respected by both. I am commanded, in conclusion, to direct your excellency to declare to the French minister, that his majesty will be at all times ready to renew the interposition of his good offices, for the purpose of terminating those hostilities, which his majesty has so anxiously, although ineffectually, endeavoured to avert."

Had the noble lord any reason to suppose, from the conduct of France with respect to two of these conditions, that she had no regard to the conveniency and opinions of the government of this country? As to Portugal, let it be remembered, that France, had faithfully avoided all occasion of conflict with, and had rigorously abstained from infringing the neutrality of, that country. As to the condition relative to South America, the communication lately laid on the table of that House by the right hon. secretary shewed what had been the conduct of France. He would ask, then, what peculiar circumstances there were about the mode in which Spain was occupied by the French army, which should lead the House to press ministers prematurely on the subject, or to suspect France of an intention to violate that faith which, up to the present point, she had most perfectly maintained? Honourable members would not forget the manner in which the right hon. secretary had been called upon for disclosures with respect to South America, at the commencement of the session—the urgency with which he had been goaded to speak out upon that question—when it turned out, eventually, that the very views which the right hon. secretary was charged with delaying, he had actually communicated four months before to every government in Europe; and a more dignified, or statesman-like document than that which contained them, had never, he would venture to say, issued from the office of a minister. For himself, he did not know at what time precisely the evacuation of Spain by France was to take place; but he should feel no surprise at seeing the right hon. secretary shortly come down, with documents, which would prove him to have been long in possession of the most satisfactory assurances upon the subject. But, what were the grounds on which hon. gentlemen distrusted the French government as to the evacuation of Spain? If his right hon. friend were as much the enemy of France as a man could be, could he possibly place her in a more embarrassing situation than she was placed in by her occupation of Spain? That country offered no resources whatever to France. To use a homely illustration, she had taken a wolf by the ears, and could neither hold him fast nor shake him off with safety; she found Spain a source, not of strength, but of weakness. The king of France was engaged, not in projects of ambition, but in the better task of reconciling conflicting parties, and healing the wounds of a country torn in pieces by factions, and which had lost every thing, except the restlessness of disposition in its people which was always the result of a revolution, and which might probably make the people of Spain rise on its present government, whenever the French military should be withdrawn. There was another circumstance which should induce the House to pause before it pressed the government for assurances as to the evacuation of Spain, or suffered any motion to be founded upon the subject. France herself, it should be recollected, had been subjected to military occupation; and England, who was now to challenge her conduct, had been the occupying power. It ought to be remembered, before we called hastily upon France to account for her continuance in Spain, that we ourselves had sat down in France, for three years, at the head of 150,000 men. He saw no reason for that jealousy which the noble lord seemed to entertain of England losing her ascendancy on the continent. England was the only free state in Europe; and she was indebted for her influence, much more to her moral power than to her arms or her wealth. The arbitrary monarchs of the continent knew that the greatness of her strength consisted in the moral influence she exercised over the nations of Europe. The whole motion of the noble lord was founded on jealousy and mistrust of France. He thought there was no reason for that jealousy, and he would therefore move, as an amendment to the motion of the noble lord, "That this House, being satisfied of the firmness and sound policy which have guided his majesty's councils in respect to the late hostilities between France and Spain, and considering the several conditions with which his majesty's declaration of neutrality in that contest was qualified, sees nothing in the present circumstances that calls upon the House to express any apprehension of a permanent military occupation of the Spanish territory by France."

Mr. Gooch

rose to second the amendment. He fully concurred, he said, with the whole of the speech of the hon. member for Staffordshire, but in no part of it more heartily than in the compliment which he had paid to the hon. member for Southwark;—he looked on him, indeed, as a gallant General. He saw no reason, however, from any arguments which had been advanced by the gentlemen opposite, to call on the government to produce papers relative to the evacuation of Spain. After the great ability which had been displayed by ministers, he saw no reason now to mistrust them, or to suppose that they were not perfectly satisfied that France did not wish permanently to occupy Spain. They had shewn their opposition to the Holy Alliance; and he also had a mistrust of that Alliance; but, because he disliked their principles, he did not think that a sufficient reason for government to declare war against it. He would ask, had the Spaniards shewn themselves worthy of our interference? and, if we had interfered, would not the war have become, from the moment a British soldier was landed in the peninsula, a British war? The conduct of Spain had been such as not to merit our interference; and he would, therefore, cordially second the Amendment.

Mr. Secretary Canning

rose, after the question had been put from the chair, and while the gallery was clearing for the purpose of a division. He had waited, be said, and naturally, until the very moment when the House was being called on for its decision; for he could scarcely persuade himself, that a motion, brought forward after such immense preparation, and a motion, to the effective prosecution of which one other hapless motion had already been sacrificed, was itself in its turn to be abandoned by all the accustomed supporters of the noble mover. He could hardly believe, seeing as he did over the way, a victim, who had, on a former night, been completely deserted, and whose friends out of doors had given as a reason for that desertion, that the great effort was to be made upon a motion yet to come, and that it would not be prudent, by any previous display, to weaken the impression which was then to be produced—he really could scarcely be convinced, when he recollected these things, that the debate of the present night could have been about to close at the moment when he had taken it up; and that not only the motion of the noble lord opposite was to go entirely unsupported, but such an amendment as that proposed by the hon. member for Stafford be suffered to pass without a struggle against it. But, if he was surprised, he was not dissatisfied with the disposition manifested by the House: for it was impossible to look at the noble lord's motion by itself, or to consider it in any other light than as the last of a series—no—he begged pardon—it was only the third, and it might not be the last—in which an attempt had been made to take away something from the recorded approbation of the House. He said "from the recorded approbation of the House," and he thought he might add, of the settled opinion of the country, in favour of the conduct of government in the late contest between France and Spain. Twelve months back, when the first great attack had been brought forward, it had been anticipated, that the triumph of those who put the government upon its trial would be complete. The debate was to be triumphant—overpowering—final. All who had taken part, even slightly, in the impugned transaction, were to be swept away; But how did the affair turn out? Where was the victory and the song of joy—Exitus ergo quis est? Hide blushing glory—hide Pultowa's day! Never had rout and overthrow been so complete! [Laughter and great cheers.] The records of parliament afforded no example of defeat so unqualified. In no age, at no period within the stretch of parliamentary history, could an instance be found of a failure so heavy; or of any failure by a thousandth part so grievous and extensive, taking into account the confident anticipations by which the enterprise had been ushered in. Upon that occasion, the general policy pursued by the government had received the approbation of the House. So far, there fore, as to the main consideration, the question was at an end. But, in the course of the session, the war having concluded, it was thought that particular parts of the transaction might be selected, in which blame might, up to a certain point, be fixed upon the government, without attacking the general vote of approbation; and, on that occasion, a noble lord opposite (Nugent), after bringing forward the question in the shape of a most unreason able and untenable proposition, conveyed in a most temperate and eloquent speech, had been left in the deserted state to which he (Mr. C.) had already adverted.

The noble mover, on the present evening, had come forward upon a second insulated point, and he, in spite of his noble ally's fate, expected to make a consider- able impression. But he (Mr. C.) said again, that it was impossible to view the noble lord's proposition singly. The proposition was not, that it was contrary to the interests of this country that France should remain in possession of Spain. If that were the proposition, it would be a proposition self evident—a proposition which no man could think of contradicting—for no man could suppose that it was the policy of England, that France should remain in the permanent possession of Spain. But the proposition of the noble mover, taken fairly, came to this—when the House had come to the resolution of deciding, that it was not expedient for England, at the risk of compromising her neutrality, to prevent the war between France and Spain, it had not contemplated a temporary occupation of the latter country by the troops of the former. The question now was, whether that occupation had been conducted in such a spirit, or had continued for such a time, as to raise a fair presumption, on our parts, that it was meant for other purposes than those which were professed; and, if this could be made out, whether the noble lord opposite had a right to call upon the House for an expression of opinion upon the subject; or whether, that fact not being made out, there was sufficient in the general proposition of the noble lord, applied not to the aspect of immediate circumstances, but to the received policy, and ordinary conduct, and probable views of France—whether there was sufficient in this state, to warrant him in calling upon the House for its interference? Now, the hon. member for Stafford had said, and said truly, that, if the noble lord really thought that the occupation of Spain had continued longer than was consistent with the safety of England, he should have moved, not for papers, as he had contented himself with doing, but, at once, for an address to his majesty, praying that he would call upon the king of France to withdraw his army from that country. But, the noble lord set out by a course which was negative in itself. He began by saying, "I will believe no assurances given by France," and concluded by desiring the House to get at those assurances. Why, if the assurances were good for nothing, surely the noble lord ought to look for some better security. But, setting out by saying, that nothing which was stated by France could be believed, the noble lord fell short of his own inference, and was satisfied to stop with moving for French declarations. The question, however, for the House, was, whether the noble lord had laid a parliamentary ground for the production of the assurances in question; and he (Mr. Canning) was ready to argue the point in any way—to suppose either the existence of such professions, or their non-existence. He would suppose government to be in possession of assurances from France, that the occupation of Spain was to be given up at the first practicable moment. Then, if those assurances were produced, the noble lord would be bound to say he did not believe them. On the other hand, suppose such assurances not to exist, and suppose them not to exist because they had not been asked for—then, how did he (Mr. Canning) defend himself? His defence was a short and a plain one. He said, that, at the outset of the quarrel between France and Spain, this country had qualified her neutrality by three specific conditions. The first of these was, that Portugal should not be attacked. The second was, that there should be no interference with South America. The third was, that there should be no permanent occupation of Spain, And, though there was no distinct declaration contained in the despatches, as to what would be the consequence of any breach of these conditions, yet no man who was in the least degree versed in diplomatic affairs, would deny, that it must have been fully understood that no violation of them would be permitted by this country. Two, then, out of these three conditions, had already been virtually performed. Portugal had not been molested; and South America was left untouched—for every one admitted the declarations of France upon that last point to be sufficient. Then, if two of the French conditions had already been performed in course, what right had we to doubt the due performance of the third? Three months back, if the declarations as to South America had been asked for, they could not have been produced. He (Mr. C), in declining to bring them forward, must have stood upon worse ground than he occupied at present. He should have argued for the necessary delay, and (he hoped) have obtained it; but there would only then have been one pledge from France fulfilled; and that the weakest, as an argument, because the temptation was the least to its viloation. But, two conditions—one a most material one—were now complete; and government surely had a right to claim exemption from the necessity of further discoveries—discoveries which, as regarded the noble lord, would be of no value, because nothing but the fact could prove the fact; nothing but the actual evacuation of Spain could convince those who were unwilling to believe that that country ever would be evacuated. For himself, he declared, as a minister and an individual, that he believed France was as anxious to put an end to the occupation as the noble lord, or his friends, could be that she should put an end to it; but he was equally sure, that if it were put to him to say "should France march out now, or should she not" it would be quite beyond his power to say that she should. But it was asked, how long was France to remain in the possession of Spain?—was she to hold the country until Ferdinand 7th. gave free institutions to his subjects? In one sense he should say "would to God that she were;" and in another sense, that he hoped to God that she was not. Would to God that she were, because she would, as institutions stood, prevent much ill. Heaven forbid she should, because he feared she would have to remain for ever. One thing, however, he would say—and it was only candid towards France to avow it—he did believe, that, whatever absence there was of every horror and excess in Spain, was owing to French interference, and to the presence of the French army. He desired not to be misunderstood. He by no means intended to say—and Heaven forbid that he should say—that this fact redeemed France from the original sin of the invasion. That question, however, was past: it stood, in some sort, with the transactions of former years. He did not defend the act. He did not palliate it. He was against it upon every principle; and would resist it if it were to do again, at any hazard short of going to war. But, events must be judged of in some measure as they went on; and thus much he was bound to admit as an honest man—he did not believe that, in the annals of history, there was any case of an invading army—not a case even of a friendly force in a foreign country, except it were a force belonging to Great Britain—no other instance upon record, in which either invaders, or allies, had themselves done so little mischief in a foreign state, and had prevented the doing of so much. The termination intended by France to her military occupation of Spain, had all along been earlier than he could have hoped for; and she still intended, if possible, to keep her day.

With respect to the mode of the occupancy, and even the seeming intent of it, e thought that considerable misapprehension in some quarters existed. An hon. member (sir R. Wilson) had adverted to the occupation of Cadiz; and had stated that Cadiz, to be useful as a military post, must be occupied by at least 25,000 men. Now, as it certainly was not occupied by one half that number, it would follow that it could not be retained with a military view. And, in truth, the political events connected with it—its having been a sort of rival capital, and the point at which the constitution was generated—would sufficiently explain its being occupied under the present system. In the same way with respect to Badajos—there was a necessity which explained the retention of that place. The most consummate general of the age had declared, that he should not consider himself safe at Cadiz, unless he could hold Badajos at the same time. But, what was it that the French were doing in their occupation? In what way were they employing their influence? Were they urging on the cruelties to which the party now having the ascendancy in Spain were but too much inclined? Were they fostering the gloomy vindictive prejudices of the monks, or exciting the blind fury of the populace? On the contrary, they were protecting the very people whom they had entered the country to subdue. By a strange course of events their whole situation and business in Spain had become changed. They had gone into the country to defend the fanatical party against the constitutionalists; and now they were actually interfering for the constitutional party with the fanatics. How long this system was to last he did not know. Only a fortnight back, he had hoped for its early termination; but every successive post had lessened that expectation. Of this, however, he entertained the most decided conviction, namely, that, whenever the time came that Spain might be left to herself with safety, France would be as much pleased in the prospect of withdrawing her troops as England could possibly be at seeing her evacuate the country.

He should now come to the objection which had been taken to the mode in which the neutrality of this country had been conducted. Neutrality, he trusted, had strictly been preserved; but, the preservation of it had not been altogether so easy a task as might be supposed; and it was worth while to observe, that some difficulties had been thrown in its way by those who were among the most ardent sticklers for its maintenance. To put a case. If two heads of families agreed with each other upon any course, and any of the members of either of those families chose to take measures in opposition to the agreement decided on, would not the leading party, whose friends had thought it right to do this, be compelled to go a little further, perhaps, than he would have otherwise done, in order to acquit himself of possible suspicion? He could assure the House, that amongst the various and conflicting interests which were involved in the late disturbances in Spain, the difficulties which the British government has had to contend with have been most imperfectly estimated. No man in that House could have heard with more respect and sympathy than himself, the speech of the hon.—he would call him his hon. and gallant friend; for although the forms of discussion might exclude its exercise, he could have no wish to disavow the sentiments of kindness and regard which he had always entertained for him. But, without meaning to cast the slightest reflection upon my hon. and gallant friend, I must assure him, that amongst the many difficulties which the government had had to encounter, he individually had been one of the greatest impediments to the observance of a strict neutrality. His hon. and gallant friend formed in himself no small breach of neutrality; but he could assure the House that the noble lord opposite (lord Nugent) was a most enormous breach of neutrality [a laugh]. He well knew how dull a thing it might appear in these times of liberal opinions to direct the attention of the House to authorities which may be considered obsolete: but he would read to the House an extract from the work of an eminent writer on the law of nations; and, in limine, he wished to apprise the House that it is not a Bynkershoek. It might here be necessary that he should explain what he meant by a Bynkershoek. He remembered that some few years back a very important discussion took place in that House; upon which occasion his hon. and learned friend opposite (sir J. Mackintosh) quoted in support of the opinions he was advocating, the authority of a name (a more modern authority than that of Vattel, which I mean to cite), and he recollected he was very anxious to discover whether the favourite author of his learned friend was stating the practice of the States of Holland, to which he was secretary, or was delivering his own abstract opinions. However, in some short time after, he laid his hands upon the work, and to his astonishment he found, that they were merely the opinions of the writer, and that the practice of the States, to which he was secretary, was quite the other way. So that henceforward, whenever he found a man who lectured upon the policy of a state, and put forward his own individual opinions instead of the laws of the country which he professed to expound, his invariable custom was to call it "a Bynkershoek" [a laugh].—Now, let the House hear the opinion of that eminent jurist Vattel, to whom he had already alluded:

"As nature", he says, "has given to men the right of using force, only when it becomes necessary for their defence, and the preservation of their rights, the inference is manifest, that since the establishment of political societies, a right so dangerous in its exercise no longer remains with private persons, except in those kind of rencontres where society cannot protect or defend them. In the bosom of society, public authority decides all the differences of the citizens, represses violence, and checks the insult of revenge. If a private person intends to prosecute his right against the subject of a foreign power, he may apply to the sovereign of his adversary, or to the magistrates invested with public authority; and if he is denied justice by them, he is to have recourse to his proper sovereign, who is obliged to protect him. It would be too dangerous to give every citizen the liberty of doing himself justice against foreigners, as every individual of a nation might involve it in a war. And how could peace be preserved between nations, if it was in the power of every man to disturb it? A right of so great moment, the right of judging whether a nation has a real cause of complaint; whether its case allows of using force, and having recourse to arms; whether prudence admits, and whether the welfare of the state demands it: this right, I say, can only belong to the body of the nation, or to the sovereign, its representative."

Now, in other times, he should not have felt it necessary to support this opinion by reference to authority; but it was satisfactory to be able to produce authority when the principle was disputed. Here we have the sovereign on the one hand, and the body of the people on the other, pledged by parliament to the observance of a rigorous neutrality. He did not wish to introduce into the discussion any technical niceties of law, but he would just suppose ourselves placed in the situation of a foreign power which had received assurances of strict neutrality; and let us then consider what we should have felt under similar circumstances. There was France with an armed force in the Spanish territories; a distinguished individual arrives upon the Spanish shores, from a nation whose king had pledged himself to strict neutrality between the belligerent powers, which pledge was sanctioned by parliament. This individual arrives with sentiments of avowed hostility, and announces that he shortly expected to be joined by an army of 10,000 men. It would be answered, that the men never did arrive. Why, he knew that: but it was not quite so certain that the French government would be aware of it. Indeed, the effect of the statement had been to draw the war to that part of the country in which it had been put forth. As a blister put upon the foot drew the humours to that point from other parts of the body, so the landing of the gallant individual in question had drawn the contest to the quarter in which he appeared. He gave full credit to the gallant gentleman in question for his spirited exposure of both fortune and person; for the determination with which he acted upon his opinions and principles, and the prodigal expenditure which he was always ready to make of his personal security. But, it was the duty of government to look at matters with other eyes than the eyes of an individual. He (Mr. Canning) felt, as regarded the pledge of England, what it was that the gallant member was doing; and, if France did not remonstrate, there was only the more need for this country to disavow. Then, every word of disavowal so uttered, let it be recollected, was, pro tanto a humiliation. It was saying at least that we had something to apologize for. And hon. gentlemen complained, that government had not maintained a sufficiently high tone. But, it was not very easy to blus- ter in one breath, while we had to extenuate in another. Under the circumstances, he had felt necessary to write to sir Charles Stuart, stating that he could not disavow in terms too strong, both for the government and personally for every member of it, all connexion with, or approval of the enterprise of the honorable and gallant gentleman. He had been compelled particularly to make this abjuration with respect to the individuals connected with the government, because the hon. gentleman had happened to send out his first despatches to Corunna under his (Mr. Canning's) cover. That measure had, of course, secured their safe arrival at the place of their destination. But he had felt the delicate situation in which it placed him. He had felt it incumbent upon him most distinctly to disavow what the gallant gentleman was doing; and he had done so. [Here the hon. gentleman read an extract from a letter to sir Charles Stuart, in which he had desired the disavowal in point to be made]. At the same time, he had stated that the service of volunteers was not unauthorized by the law of nations, and that it did not expose the individuals rendering it to any penalty. The hon. gentleman would see, therefore, that although he had been compelled to disclaim his measures, he had not been inattentive to his personal security. The right hon. gentleman read to the end of the paper; which imported the readiness of his majesty's government to offer this disclaimer, though it was with them not the least part of the evil, that they were subjected to the humiliation of having to excuse themselves with the French government. That was the condition in which the hon. gentleman had placed his majesty's government, with their liberty of acting almost taken away—their arms fettered—restrained in their conduct—lowered and humbled to the degradation of making apologies to the government of France. The hon. gentleman, however, was not the only person who had helped to place the government in this predicament, though other persons who had deported themselves in a similar manner had not reduced his majesty's ministers to the necessity of making excuses: for, at the time that he, with that generous prodigality of his services which he had lavished upon a cause not quite deserving of it, was paying the penalty of his gallantry and courage in one quarter, there arose in another quarter of that country another luminary, who, though he might not have addressed himself to the state of the country with as much military effect as the hon. gentleman had done, certainly did not fall behind the hon. gentleman in military intention. He did not wish to pry further into matters than was necessary; and by some it might be thought, that in what he was about to say he was going too far: but, in cases of this nature, it was the duty of government to know what was going on; else, by giving way to too much secrecy in respect to the conduct of individuals, they might, before they could be sufficiently aware of it, become involved in hostilities by the warlike conduct of their own subjects [a laugh]. Then Sir (continued Mr. Canning) about the middle of the month of last July, the heavy Falmouth coach [roars of laughter]—yes, Sir, the heavy Falmouth coach, in the month of last July, was observed to proceed to its destination with more than its wonted celerity. The coach contained two passengers; the one a fair lady of considerable dimensions; the other a gentleman, who was about to carry the succour of his person to the struggling patriots in Spain. I am further informed—and this interesting fact, Sir, can also be authenticated—that the heavy Falmouth van, which gentlemen, doubtless, are aware is constructed for the conveyance of more cumbrous articles, was laden, upon the same memorable occasion, with a box of most portentous magnitude. Now, Sir, whether this box, like the flying chest of the conjuror, possessed any supernatural properties of loco-motion, is a point which I confess I am quite unable to determine; but of this I am most credibly informed—and I should hesitate long before I stated it to the House, if the statement did not rest upon the most unquestionable authority—that this extraordinary box contained a full uniform of a Spanish general of cavalry, together with a helmet of the most curious workmanship; a helmet, allow me to add, scarcely inferior in size to the celebrated helmet in the castle of Otranto [loud daughter]. The idea of going to the relief of a fortress blockaded by sea and besieged by land, in a full suit of light horseman's equipments, was, perhaps, not strictly consonant to modern military operations. However, almost at this time the arrival of the promised force of 10,000 men—which never existed except on pa- per—was hourly expected, and would have been most acceptable; and when the gentleman and his box had made their appearance, the Cortes no doubt, were over whelmed with joy, and rubbed their hands with delight at the approach of the long-promised aid. That aid did come: but it came in the sense and in no other, which was described by the witty duke of Buckingham, whom the noble lord opposite reckoned among his lineal ancestors. In the play of "The Rehearsal," there is a scene occupied with the de signs of the two kings of Brentford, to whom one of their party entering says, The army's at the door, but in disguise Entreats a word of both your majesties. How the noble lord was received, or what effects he operated on the councils and affairs of the Cortes by his arrival, he (Mr. Canning) did not know. Things were at that juncture moving rapidly to their final issue. How far the noble lord conduced to the termination by throwing his weight into the sinking scale of the Cortes, was too nice a question for him just now to settle. But it must be evident, that by circumstances like those to which he had alluded, the government, if it wished to exercise common and necessary caution, was called upon, without any appeal from the French government, for disavowal. It was not for him to condemn the principles and motives which led the hon. gentle man to make that generous sacrifice of himself to the cause of Spain; but what he urged was, that if they would have neutrality on the part of the government, they must be content to be bound by the feelings, expressions, and determinations of government; nor ought they to expect to be allowed individually to carry on war against a government with which their own was in amity; and, in doing so, compelled their own government to go further than they otherwise need to go from the strict line of neutrality, and to say more than they would otherwise have occasion to say, in order to set the balance once disturbed again even.

There was another part of the question upon which he differed from the noble lord whose motion they were now discussing. The noble lord insisted, that if while Spain was in the occupation of France, any Spanish force should be raised to send to South America, that ought to be considered in all respects as a French force, and be treated as such by Great Britain. Now, so far he would concede to the noble lord— that this would be a question of degree. He could imagine such an occupation of Spain by France, as would lead him to conjecture, that it was for other purposes than those professed by France; and he could imagine, that if, under such an occupation, any very considerable levies of Spanish troops were raised to be sent against South America, it would be a strong indication of that disposition on the part of France. But, they were to look at things as they now stood: and he saw nothing in the condition of the French forces—nothing in their distribution—nothing in the quality of their occupation—nothing in the mode and conduct hitherto employed as to them—nothing in the councils or the practice of the French government—nothing in the declarations of the Spanish government—to lead to any inference that the French government had that intention. He could not argue upon any case which stood in direct contradiction to the views and policy of the French government. His answer would be—look at the papers on the table, and it would there be seen, that the French government closely approximated to the views of the English, with respect to the Spanish American colonies. With those who would say, "I can't trust the French—I don't believe a word of their assurances," there could be no argument of any kind: no assurances of any sort could prevail with them. He was sure that the French government looked at the question not precisely in that point of view in which it was considered by the English government, because the relative interests were different; but they viewed it more nearly in the same light, than any of the other powers of Europe. As to the other apprehension entertained by the noble lord, it was useless to discuss it. That any other member of the European confederacy could be put in danger by the present occupation of Spain, was a vain dread. It was not possible, from their situation or circumstances, that they could by that circumstance be placed in greater danger from the power of France:— Stabant orantes primi transmittere cursum, Tendebantque manus ripæ ulterioris amore. If the noble lord's motion were carried, he would find, from the papers produced, the accuracy of every thing which he (Mr. C.) had now advanced. Nor could there be any immediate objection to it, as far as the negative assurances of the French government were in question. The real obstacle with the noble lord was, that he had not laid any parliamentary grounds for his motion. His hon. friend near him, who had moved the amendment, had pursued a course, in opposing the motion, which was perfectly just towards the government. Whenever a question of suspicion was mooted unjustly, in proportion to the injustice done to the motives of government, so much the stronger ought to be the declaration of confidence by the House. If the reasons of that confidence did not warrant so strong an expression of it, that was a subject which would soon be brought to a clearer understanding: if the conduct of the government did justify the confidence, it was only fair and honourable, under those circumstances, to bring it to the proof, and make it known by a direct declaration of that confidence. If the fears of the noble lord were groundless—if there was no probability that the French government intended to push the military occupation of Spain into political possession—if the British government had left no steps untried to assure themselves of the intentions of the French, and found no ground whatever for apprehension—and if the House found all this upon the papers already before them, they were bound to vote against the noble lord; and further, if they found, that being assailed by suspicion, they were entirely without blame upon the matter in question, he hoped they would do the government the justice to say openly to the country, that as they had nothing to allege against their past conduct, so they still held undiminished confidence in them as to the future.

Sir R. Wilson

said, in explanation, that he had sent his papers unsealed through the office of the right hon. secretary, because, as he was communicating with one who was then a minister of the Spanish court, he thought it not only proper, but highly necessary, that the officers of the British government should be acquainted with the transaction.

Mr. Canning

said, that his remark as to the inviolable secrecy observed by his office in transmitting the papers of the hon. gentleman, referred chiefly to letters to private individuals, which were also forwarded by the hon. gentleman.

Sir James Mackintosh

began by remarking upon the constitutional functions of parliament, the duties due from the members of the state, as advisers in the great council of the nation, and the proper exercise of them in respect to the present question. He said, he would not have risen, but for an observation or two which the right hon. gentleman had done him the honour to address to him upon the subject of the law of nations. And first, he must observe upon the astonishing inaccuracy, and want of information as to the writings of the jurists, under which the right hon. gentleman seemed to labour. For he had actually quoted Vattel in answer to what he termed the more modern authority of Bynkershoek, when, in fact, Vattel's book did not appear until nearly 15 years after the death of Bynkershoek. As to the defect of Bynkershoek's authority, the judgment which he had read from his work was no light and inconsiderate opinion; but solemnly written down in a letter sent in answer to the letter of a minister of state of one of the chief courts of Europe, demanding information upon the question submitted. But Vattel had nothing to do with the question before the House. The quotation made by the right hon. gentleman was wholly impertinent to his despatches. Vattel, in the passage which had been read, declared against any persons going to war in the character of officers, soldiers, or subjects of the state; but it did not forbid volunteers from entering into a war professedly and avowedly disowned and deprecated by their own government. So that, as the right hon. gentleman proposed to style every blunder of his "a Bynkershoek," he should be justified in calling every blunder of the right hon. gentleman's "a Vattel," and thus be believed that he had furnished the right hon. gentleman with a Rowland for his Oliver. He congratulated the right hon. gentleman on the variance between his doctrines and the really excellent practice of the government in this case; and he congratulated his hon. and gallant friend near him on the justice which had been done, in the eloquent speeches of the right hon. gentleman, and of the hon. member for Stafford, to his generous, brave, and noble sentiments in the cause of Spain, and on the sympathy which had been displayed by the House towards him on account of those sentiments. The right hon. gentleman had dwelt upon the conduct of his noble friend (lord Nugent) near him, in a manner not quite so fair. He had drawn a description of some part of his noble friend's conduct facetiously, because it was capable of being so treated; but he had passed over other parts which were of a more serious kind, and which redounded to his honour, evincing as they did those generous feelings which characterized every part of his noble friend's conduct, and every sentiment of his heart. The right hon. gentleman would not pronounce, that the presence of his noble friend in Spain had been either unseemly or unimportant, much less inglorious if he considered that during his short residence in Cadiz, his noble friend had been instrumental in saving brave and unfortunate men, whose only crime was the love of their country, from the dungeons and scaffolds of an inexorable tyrant. Surely, he who had contributed to the rescue of those estimable men, might claim a little indulgence from the House, even though he might have violated some of the texts of Vattel, or have broken through some of the precepts of his more learned friend Bynkershoek. This, at least, might be boldly averred, that his noble friend had not done any thing which would disgrace the English character which could sully the high character of the illustrious family to which he belonged, or the equally high individual character which the noble lord himself maintained—but to return to the question, his right hon. friend had talked a great deal of having the confidence of the House of Commons. He could assure his right hon. friend, that an eloquence much less fascinating and irresistible, than that which he possessed in so eminent a degree, would be sufficient to secure the plaudits of the majority of the House of Commons. What, in fact, was he doing, but asking them to confirm their own declaration? what but appealing to the jury who acquitted him, to applaud their own verdict? or, in more measured phrase, asking the tribunal before whom he had gone, to praise the judgment which they had given? It required but a very moderate share of oratorical power to prevail upon the Athenians to bestow the palm of eloquence on the man who pronounced a panegyric on Athens. But all this was not sufficient for the right hon. gentleman. He thought however, that it was, to say the least of it, precipitate in the right hon. gentleman, to call for praises upon a subject, the merits of which had yet to undergo solemn deliberation. As to the boasts of the right hon. gentleman, they were victories obtained, if obtained at all, in imaginary hostilities. He had talked about the boasts which were made last session, on that side of the House, and the anticipations which were felt of success. But he could assure the right hon. gentleman, that he and his friends knew too well of what stuff the majorities of that House were composed, to entertain any such expectations. He would state the reason why they had not divided the House on the occasion alluded to; it was, because the amendment proposed by the hon. member for Yorkshire (Mr. S. Wortley) differed so little from the proposition which had been submitted from his side of the House, that it would have been inadviseable to have gone to a division, lest an impression might be created abroad unfavourable to Spain. They had the cause of Spanish independence, which was then just dawning, too dearly at heart, to run the risk of injuring it even in the slightest degree. They considered that sacred cause superior to any contention about parties at home. They might have divided as usual, there was nothing to prevent them. They had lost none of their old friends.—Their numbers were undiminished. It had been asked triumphantly by the right hon. gentleman, why nobody had risen on the present occasion on the Opposition side of the House? The reason was this—that no answer had been given to the speech of his noble friend, and the right hon. gentleman seemed anxious to court hostility, as if he were not satisfied with the celebration of his three imaginary victories; and, failing in his purpose, he ascribed hostility to those who altogether disclaimed it. His right hon. friend told the House that France was solicitous to evacuate Spain. Now, would his right hon. friend be able to persuade the House that such was the fact? Certainly, his right hon. friend might do so; for his eloquence was great—his authority was great—his influence was great. But, if his right hon. friend succeeded in persuading the House that France was anxious to surrender the ascendancy she had obtained in Spain, that she was anxious to make Spain, at present dependent on her, independent, he would perform a miracle of conviction greater, perhaps, than any political minister had hitherto achieved. The right hon. gentleman, though he denied that there was any case, could not but admit that there was one portion of a case; which was that of sending Spanish troops against the South American colonies, while the French were in occupation of Spain. What, if Spain were enabled to send the troops merely because France was in occupation. What, if, at the very same juncture of time that Spain was overrun by French troops, the Spanish government should be found issuing proclamations, on which the claim of sovereignty was again set up with threats of its exercise against those found in rebellion. Must it not then be concluded, that the presence of the French Army alone enabled Spain to send out forces against South America? Must they not consider that as the same thing with sending out French troops to South America? Was not this a case really existing? And was not the object of his noble friend, in wishing to know what steps had been taken by the government to avert that danger, a proper one? It was said, that this was showing too much jealousy of France. He would not say that this was the condition naturally of the two powers; but certainly jealousy became them as antagonist powers in the system of Europe. Then it was asked why call for the papers, if you distrust the assurances of France? But, how could the House know that the papers might not contain direct refusals of any assurance.—that they might certify an intention to continue the occupation of Spain; or at least furnish strong evidence of such a disposition? These were good grounds for the motion, without any reference to the conduct of government; to which no part of the speech of his noble friend referred. If every motion for papers was to be construed into a design of throwing suspicion on the government, then, to be sure, with the assistance of a well-disciplined majority, there would be a short answer ready for every question in which the conduct of government could be involved. That was not the way in which he had read the constitution. Asking for information used not to imply censure, the suspicion of which could be set up as a sufficient ground of refusal. In the better sense, parliament, as a branch of the great national council, among its other duties had to inform itself of what was doing in regard to our foreign relations, to offer its advice if it thought proper, to be adopted or not as the government might think proper, without implying of necessity censure or suspicion as to the conduct of the officers of his majesty's government.

Lord John Russell

made a short reply. He reprobated the practice of, day after day, converting such motions as that which he had done himself the honour to submit to the House, into regular panegyrics on his majesty's government, and thereby pledging the House to the support of every act of that government. With respect to the course which the right hon. secretary for foreign affairs had thought proper to adopt on this occasion, he must say, that the right hon. gentleman, by the tone and manner which he had assumed, had sought a species of applause which was wholly unworthy of him. The right hon. gentleman had much better have employed himself in endeavouring to shew why the ancient jealousy of this country, with respect to the influence of France on the continent, and more especially in Spain, was no longer to exist.—The amendment was of very little consequence, and he was not so curious about the numbers, as to press his motion to a division. He could not but remark, however, that there was, according to the old views of English policy, something very dangerous in the eulogium of an English minister upon the government and army of France, engaged in an act of unquestionable aggression, when they ought rather to have expressed a wish that the French army would go home; which would certainly have been the course pursued in better times.

The original motion was negatived; after which, the amendment was agreed to, without a division.