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A U TH OR : 
 
 WINDHAM. WILLIAM 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 SUBSTANCE OF THE 
 
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 LONDON 
 
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 1802 
 
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 2^ 
 
 Windham, Willi i-^^. a. i ^.— ^i. -^-« 
 
 cub3t?ULce of chisj speech delivered in the 
 
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 SUBSTANCE 
 
 OP THE 
 
 SPEECH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 I * 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE 
 
 HOUSE OF COMMONS, 
 
 WEDNESDAY, NOV. 4, I8OI, 
 
 V 
 
 ON THE 
 
 REPORT OF AN ADDRESS TO THE THRONE, 
 
 APPROVING OP TH» 
 
 PRELIMINARIES OF PEACE 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 REPUBLIC K OF FRANCE. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, IVITH NOTES. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY COBBETT AND MORGAN, PALI MALI. 
 
 April 9, 1S02. 
 
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 SUBSTANCE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SPEECH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 M^ILLIAM WINDHAM, &:c. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 An the present stage of this business, and in a 
 house so little numerous, I am not disposed to 
 take up the subject in the way in which 1 
 should have wished to consider it, had I been 
 able with tolerable satisfaction to myself, to de- 
 liver my sentiments in the debate of last night. 
 Something, however, I wish to say, founded la 
 a great measure on what then took place. 
 
 All that I heard, and all that I saw, on that 
 occasion, tends only to confirm more and more 
 the deep despair in which I am plunged, in 
 contemplating die probable consequences of the 
 present Treaty. 
 
 Notwith- 
 
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-dC#> -^».* 
 
 ^Notwithstanding some lofty talk which w'e 
 heard of dignity and firmness, and which 1 
 shall be glad to see reahzed, and a happy quo- 
 tation, expressive of the same sentiments, from 
 my Honourable Friend not now present (Mr. 
 Pitt), the real amount of what was said, seems to 
 be little more than this :— that France has, to be 
 sure, the power of destroying us, but that we 
 hope she will not have the inclination;— \\v^{ 
 we are under the paw of the lion, but that lie 
 may happen not to be hungry, and, instead of 
 making a meal of us, may turn round in his 
 den, and go to sleep.—This is not stated in so 
 many words : but it will be difficult to shew, 
 that it is not the fair result of the arguments. 
 
 That I should have lived to see the dav, 
 when such arguments could be used in a Bri- 
 tish House of Commons !— that I should have 
 lived to see a House of Commons, w^here such 
 arguments could be heard with patience, and 
 even with complacency !— The substance of 
 the statement is this. We make Peace, not 
 from any necessity actually existing, (my Ho- 
 nourable Friends, with great propriety, reject 
 that supposition) *, but because w^e foresee a 
 
 period. 
 
 * See Appendix A. 
 
 period, at no great distance, vC^hen such a neces- 
 city must arise; and we think it right, that 
 provision for such a case should be made in 
 time. — We treat, or, to take at once the more 
 appropriate term, w^e capitulate, while we have 
 yet some ammunition left. General Menou 
 could do no more. General Menou could do 
 no more in one sense ; but in another he did, I 
 fear a great deal more : — a point to which I 
 must say a word hereafter ; — he did not aban- 
 don to their fate those whom he had invited to 
 follow his fortunes, and to look up to him as 
 their protector. Both, however, capitulated; 
 and upon the plain and ordinary grounds of 
 such a proceeding, namely, that their means 
 of resistance must soon come to an end, and 
 that they had no such hopes of any fortunate 
 turn in their favour, as to justify a continuance 
 of their resistance in the mean time. The 
 conduct of both in the circumstances supposed, 
 was perfectly rational : but let us recollect, that 
 those \\ ho stand in such circumstances, be they 
 generals or be they nations, are, to all intents 
 and purposes conquered! I know not what other 
 definition we want of being conquered, than 
 that a country can say to us, *' we can hold 
 ^' out, and you cannot; make Peace, or we 
 
 ^' will 
 
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 8 
 
 "will ruin you:" and that you, in con- 
 scqucncx", make Peace, upon terms which must 
 render a renewal of hostilities, under any pro- 
 vocation, more certainly fatal than a continua- 
 tion of that War, which you already declare 
 yourselves unable to bear. 
 
 If such be the fact, we may amuse our- 
 selves with talking what language we please ; 
 but we are a conquered people. Buonaparte is as 
 much our master, as he is of Spain or Prussia, 
 or any other of those countries, which, though 
 still permitted to call themselves independent, 
 arc, as every body knows, as completely in his 
 power, as if the name of department was already 
 written uj)on their foreheads. — There are but 
 tw^o questions, — Is the relation between the 
 countries such, that France can ruin us by 
 continuing the War? and will that relation In 
 substance remain the same, or rather will It not 
 be rendered infinitely worse, by Peace, upon 
 tlic terms now proposed ? — If both these ques- 
 tions are answered in the affirmative, the whole 
 is decided, and w^e live henceforward by sulVer- 
 ance from France. 
 
 Sir, before we endeavour to estimate our 
 prospects in this new and honourable state of 
 existence I wish to considep for a moment, what 
 
 the 
 
 9 
 
 the reasonings are, that have determined our 
 choice, as to the particular mode of it; and 
 why we think that ruin by War must be so 
 much more speedy and certain, than ruin by 
 Peace. And here I will take pretty much the 
 statement given by the Honourable Gentlemen 
 who argue on the other side. 
 
 I agree, that the question Is not, whether 
 this Peace be good or bad, honourable or dis- 
 honourable, adequate or inadequate ; whether 
 it places us in a situation better or w^orse, than 
 we had reason to expect, or than we were in 
 before the A\'ar. All these are parts of the 
 question, and many of them very material parts; 
 but the question itself Is, whether the Peace 
 now proposed, such as it is, be better, or not, 
 than a continuation of liGstllities? — Whether, 
 according to a familiar mode of speech, we 
 may not go farther and fare worse ? — Whether, 
 to take the same form In a manner somewhat 
 more developed and correct, the chances of 
 faring better, compared with the chances of 
 faring worse, and including the certainty of the 
 intermediate evils, do not render it advlseable 
 upon the whole, that we should rest contented 
 where we are. 
 * This I take to be the statement of the 
 
 B question. 
 
 
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 1: 
 
 10 
 
 question, on the present, and on all similar oc* 
 casions : nor do I know of any addition ne- 
 cessary to be made, except to observe, that in 
 estimating the terms of Peace in the manner 
 here proposed, you are not merely to consider 
 the physical force, or pecuniary value, of the 
 objects concerned, but also the effect which 
 Peace, made in such and such circumstances, 
 is likely to have on the character and estimation 
 of the country ; a species of possession, which, 
 though neither tangible nor visible, is as much 
 a part of national strengdi, and has as real a 
 value, as any thing that can be tMrned hito 
 pounds and shillings, that can be sold by the 
 score or hundred, or weighed out in avoir- 
 dupoise. Accordhigly a statesman, acting for 
 a great country, may very well be in the situa- 
 tion of saying,— I would make Peace at this 
 time, if nothing more were in question, than 
 the value of the objects now offered me, com- 
 pared with those which I may hope to obtain : 
 but when I consider what the effect is, which 
 Peace, made in the present circumstances, will 
 have upon the estimation of the country; what 
 the weakness is which it will betray; what the 
 suspicions it will excite ; what the distrust and 
 alienation it will produce, in the minds of all 
 
 the 
 
 11 
 
 ihfe surrounding nations ; how it will lowef m 
 in their eyes ; how it will teach them universally 
 to fly from connexion with a country, which 
 neither protects its friends, nor seems any longer 
 capable of protecting itself, in order to turn to 
 those, who, while their vengeance is terrible^ 
 will not suffer a hair of the head to be touched^ 
 of any who will put themselves under their pro- 
 tection; — when I consider these consequences^ 
 hot less real, or permanent, or extensive, than 
 those which present themselves in the shape of 
 territorial strength or commercial resources, I 
 must reject these terms, which otherwise I 
 should feel disposed to accept, and say, that, 
 putting character into the scale, the incli- 
 nation of the balance is decidedly the other 
 way. 
 
 Sir, there is in all this nothing new or re- 
 fined, or more than will be admitted by every 
 one in words ; though there seems so litde dis- 
 position to adhere to it in fact* — If we refer to 
 the practice of only our own time, what was the 
 case of the Falkland Islands and Nootka ? Was 
 it the value of these objects, that we were going 
 to War for ? The one was a barren rock, an 
 object of competition for nothing but seals and 
 seagulls : the other a point of land in a wilder- 
 
 B 2 ness. 
 
 ( 61 
 
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 12 
 
 * 
 
 uess, where some obscure, though spirited, ad- 
 venturers had hoped that they might in time 
 estabHsh a trade with the savages for furs. 
 Were these, objects to involve nations in A^'ars ? 
 If there was a question of their doing so, it w as 
 because considerations of a far different kind 
 were attached to them, — considerations of na- 
 tional honour and dignity; between which and 
 the objects themselves, there may often be no 
 more proportion, than between the picture of a 
 great master, and the canvas on wliieh it is 
 painted. 
 
 If I wished for authorities upon such a 
 subject, I need go no further than to the Ho- 
 nourable Gentleman, [Mr. Fox,] who has re- 
 curred to a sentiment, produced by him for- 
 merly with something of paradoxical exaggera- 
 tion, (diough true in the main,) namely, that 
 Wars for points of honour, are really the only 
 rational and prudential Wars in which a country 
 can engage. Much of the same sort is the 
 sentiment of another popular teacher, Junius, 
 who, upon the subject of these very Falkland 
 Islands, says, in terms which it may be worth 
 w^hilc to quote, not for the merit of the language, 
 nor tlie authority of the writer, — though neither 
 of them without their value, — but to show, 
 
 what 
 
 13 
 
 ^^'•hat w^re once the feelings of EngUshmcn, 
 and what the topics chosen by a writer, whose 
 object it was to recommend himself to the peo- 
 ple : *' To depart, in the minutest article, from 
 ** the nicety and strictness of punctilio, is as 
 '* dangerous to national honour, as it is to fe- 
 ** male virtue. The woman who admits of one 
 '* familiarity, seldom knows where to stop, or 
 ** what to refuse ; and when the counsels of a 
 *' great country give way in a single instance, 
 '^ when they are once inclined to submission, 
 *' every step accelerates the rapidity of their 
 •' descent!" 
 
 We are not therefore, according to the 
 present fashion, to fall to calculating, and to 
 ask ourselves, what is the value at market of 
 such and such an object, and how much it will 
 cost us to obtain it. If these objects alone were 
 at stake, I should admit the principle in its full 
 force ; and should be among the first to declare, 
 that no object of mere pecuniary value could 
 ever be worth obtaining at the price of a War : 
 but when particular points of honour are at 
 stake, as at Nootka or the Falkland Islands 
 (without inquiring, whether in those cases the 
 point of honour was either well chosen, or 
 rightly estimated); and still more, where ge- 
 neral 
 
 ) 
 
my^ 
 
 
 u 
 
 neral impression, where uiiiver-sal estim:itioii^ 
 where the conception to be formed of the feel- 
 ings, temper, power, policy, and views ol' a 
 great nation are ifi question, there to talk of 
 calculating the loss or profit of possessions to 
 which these considerations may be attached by 
 their price at market, or the value of their fcc- 
 simple, is like the idea of Dr. Swift, when he 
 IS comparing the grants to the Duke of Marl^ 
 borough, with the rewards of a Roman con- 
 queror, and estimates the crown of laurel at 
 two-pence. 
 
 The first question for a great country to 
 a<k itself, — the first in point of order, and the 
 the first in consequence, — is this: Is the part 
 which I am about to act consonant to that liioh 
 estimation which I have hitherto maintained 
 among the nations of the world? Will my 
 reputation suffer?* — whether that reputation 
 relate to the supjiosed extent of its means, to 
 the vigour and wisdom of its counsels, or to 
 the uprightness of its intentions. If, in any of 
 these ways, the country is to sustain a loss of 
 character ; if the effect of what is proposed be 
 to render it less respected, less looked up to, less 
 
 trusted^ 
 
 ^■ 
 
 ♦ See Appendix B. 
 
 15 
 
 trusted, less feared; if its firmness in limes of trial, 
 its fidelity to its engagements, its steady adhe- 
 rence to its purposes through all fortunes, are to 
 be called in question ; it must be a strong necessity 
 indeed, stronger than any ^\'hich I believe to exist 
 in the present instance, that ought to induce it 
 even to listen to counsels liable to be attended 
 with any of these consequences. It must be 
 a weiglity danger, that, in the scales of a 
 great country, can be allowed to balance the 
 Joss of any part of its dignity. AVhat then shall 
 we say ofa country, v/hich, abandoning from the 
 outset cver\^ consideration of this sort, ^ill not 
 wait till it becomes insecure by ceasing to be 
 respectable, but becomes unrespectable by ceas- 
 ing to be secure ? Which drops at once at the 
 feet of its rival ? Which begins by a complete 
 surrender of its security ; and suffers fame, cha- 
 racter, dignity, and every thing else, to go along 
 widi it? 
 
 Whether such is the situation of this 
 pountry, we shall judge better by taking a short 
 viev/ of the terms of the proposed Peace. The 
 description of these is simple and easy: — France 
 gives nothing, and, excepting Trinidad and 
 Ceylon, England gives every thing. If it were 
 pf any consequence testate what in diplpmatick 
 language was the basis of this treaty, we mi;st 
 
 say, 
 
 * 1 
 
 A 
 
 ' 
 

 16 
 
 say, that It had no one basis; but that it was the 
 status guo, on the part of England, with the tvva 
 exceptions In its favour, of Ceylon and Trini . ul; 
 and the uti possidetis, with the addition of al! the 
 other English conquests, on the part of France. 
 But what may be the technical description of the 
 treaty, is, comparatively, of litde importance. 
 It Is the result that is material, and the extent of 
 power and territory, now, by whatever means, 
 actually remaining in the hands of France. The 
 enumeration of this, liable indeed In part to be 
 disputed, but upon the whole sufticlently correct, 
 may be made as follows : 
 
 In Europe. — France possesses the whole 
 of the Continent,'^'- with the exception of Russia 
 and Austria. If it be said, that parts of Ger- 
 many, and the Northern courts of Denmark 
 and Sweden are not fairly described as being 
 immediately under the controul of lYance, we 
 must balance this consideration by remarking, 
 the influence which France possesses in diesc 
 governments, and the commanding position 
 which she occupies with respect to Austria, by 
 the possession of Switzerland and Mantua, and 
 those countries which have been considered 
 always, and twice In the course of the present 
 
 War, 
 
 17 
 
 War, have proved ta be the direct inlet info 
 tlie heart of her dominions. 
 
 In Asia, — Pondichery, Mah6, Cochin, Ne- 
 gapatam, the Spice Islands. 
 
 In Africa,— the Cape of Good Hope, 
 Goree, Senegal. 
 
 In the Sea that is enclosed by diese tliree 
 continents, which connects them all, and fur- 
 nishes to us in many respects our best and surest 
 communication with them, — the Mediterra- 
 nean, — every port and post except Gibraltar, 
 IJom one end of It to the other,* including the 
 impregnable and invaluable port of Malta; so as 
 to exclude us from a sea, which it had ever be- 
 fore been the anxious policy of Great-Britain 
 to keep in her hands, — and to render It now, 
 truly and properly, what it was once idly called, 
 the Sea of France, 
 
 i In die West-Indies, — St. Domingo,f both 
 tiie French and Spanish parts, Martinico, St. 
 Lucie, Guadaloupe, Tobagq, Curaco. 
 
 In North America, — St. Pierre and MI- 
 quclon, widi a right to the fisheries in the fullest 
 extent to which they were ever claimed; Loui- 
 
 C siana, 
 
 — ■ ' \ 
 
 * See Appendix D. 
 f See Appendix E. 
 
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 * See Appendix C. 
 
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 18 
 
 siana, (so it is supposed,) *^ a word dreadful to be 
 pronounced, to all who consider the conse- 
 quences with which that cession is pregnant, 
 whether as it acts northward, by its eftects upon 
 the United States, or southward, as opening a 
 direct passage into the Spanish settlements in 
 America. 
 
 In South America, — Surinam, Demerary, 
 Berbice, Essequibo, taken by us and now 
 ceded; — Guiana, and by the effect of the 
 Treaty, fraudulently signed by France with 
 Portugal, j\ist before the signature of these Pre- 
 liminaries, a tract of country extending to the 
 river Amazon, and giving to France the com- 
 mand of the entrance into that river. Whether, 
 By any secret article, the evils of this cession 
 will prove to. have been done away, time will 
 discover.f In fact, (be that as it may,) France 
 may be said to possess the whole of the Spanish 
 and Portuguese setdemcnts upon that Continent. 
 For who shall say, that she has not the com- 
 mand oi' those setdemen ts, when she has the 
 command of the countries to which they be- 
 long;— a^m custodit ipsos ciistodes? She has, in 
 
 truth. 
 
 i 
 
 * See Appendix F. 
 t See Appen(iix G. 
 
 19 
 
 truth, whatever part of the Continent of South 
 America she chooses to occupy; and as far as 
 relates to the Spanish part, without even the ne- 
 cessity, a necessity that probably would not cost 
 her much, of infringing any part of the present 
 Treaty. 
 
 Such is the grand and comprehensive circle 
 to which the New Roman Empire may be soon 
 expected to spread, now that Peace has removed 
 all obstacles; and opened to her a safe and easy 
 passage into the three remaining quarters of the 
 globe. Such is the power, which we are re- 
 quired to contemplate without dismay ! under 
 the shade of whose greatness we are invited to 
 lie down with perfect tranquillity and com- 
 posure ! I should be glad to know, what our 
 ancestors would have diought and felt in this 
 situation ? what those weak and deluded men, 
 so inferior to the politicians of the present day,* 
 the Marlboroughs, the Godolphins, the Somer?, 
 the King Williams, all those who viewed with 
 such apprehension the power of Louis XIV. ; 
 w^hat diey would say to a Peace, which not 
 only confirms to France the possession of nearly 
 the whole of Europe, but extends her empire 
 
 C 2 over 
 
 • See Appendix H. 
 
 i ^1 
 
 
 I 
 
'\- c \ 
 
 pij 
 
 20 
 
 6ver every other part of the globe. Is there a 
 man of them, who would not turn in his coffioi 
 could he be sensible to a twentieth part of that 
 which is passing, i8 perfect matter of course, 
 in the politicks of the present moment? 
 
 But to all these mighty dangers we have 
 it seems one great security to op|>ose; not that 
 degrading and bastard security to whicli I have 
 before adverted, and to which, I fear, I must aeain 
 recur, — that France is lassata \i noi sat lata ; that 
 having run down her prey, she will be content 
 to spare it, and be willing for awhile to leave 
 us unmolested; — but a rational, sober, well- 
 founded s(*curity, applicable to the supposition 
 that she may not be wanting in die will to hurt 
 us, but will happily not possess the power. This 
 great security, we are told, is our wealth. We 
 are, it seems, so immensely rich, our prosperity 
 stands on so sure and wide a basis, we have such 
 a pyramid of gold, so beautifully constructed, 
 and so firmly put together, that we may safely 
 let in all the world to do their worst against it; 
 they can never overturn it, and might spend 
 ages in endeavouring to take it to pieces. We 
 seem to consider our commercial prosperity, 
 like those articles of property, timber, marble, 
 and others of that sort, which, however valuable, 
 
 may 
 
 21 
 
 may be safely left unguarded, being too weighty 
 and bulky to be carried away. 
 
 Sir, the first circumstance that strikes one 
 in tills statement, is, that odd inconsistency, by 
 which a country that makes Peace on account 
 of its poverty, is to rest its whole hope of se- 
 curity in that Peace, upon its wealth. If our 
 weakh will protect us, it is a great pity that 
 this discoveiy was not made long ago; it would 
 have saved us many years of paintul struggle; 
 have kept in our hands a grcat additional por- 
 tion of these very means of protection ; and have 
 lessened considerably die dangers against which 
 such protection is wanted. But wealth, I fear, 
 abstracted from certain means of using it, carries 
 with it no powers of pi'otcctlon, eitlier for 
 itself or others. Riches are strength, in the same 
 manner only as they are food. They may be 
 the means of procuring both. But we shall fall 
 into as great a folly, as in the fabk of Midas, 
 if we suppose tliat when we have laid down 
 our arms, and surrendered our fortresses, our 
 ^^ealth, alone, can afford us any protection. I 
 cannot therefore, for my own part, understand 
 what is meant by this, unless it be, that by su- 
 periority of capital, and priority of market, of 
 which I allow the ellects to be immense, we 
 
 might, 
 
 ' I 
 
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 22 
 
 • 
 
 might, if things were left to themselves, in a 
 fair competition, in a fair race, still keep a-head 
 of our com{)etitors, in spite of all the multiplied 
 advantages which France will now possess. 
 This might be so; though it is by no means clear 
 that it would. But the competition will not 
 be left to its natural course.* This game will 
 not be fairly played. Buonapart6 is a player, 
 who, if the game is going against him, will be 
 apt to pick a quarrel, and ask us, if we can 
 draw our swords. — And here, perhaps, it is time 
 to remark the singular fallacy, which has run 
 through iiU the re^onings of Gentlemen on the 
 other side; that, namely, of supposing that in 
 discussing the present question, the Peace, such 
 as it is, is the state which is to be contrasted with 
 the continuance of the War. — They forget, or 
 choose that we should forget, that this Peace 
 may, at any moment, at the mere pleasure of 
 the enemy, be converted into a new War; 
 differing only from the other, by the ground 
 which we in the mean-while shall have lost, 
 and the numerous advantages which the enemy 
 will have acquired. There is notthe least reason 
 why this Treaty, if the enemy should so please, 
 
 should 
 
 * See Appendix I. 
 
 23 
 
 should be any thing more than a mere piece of 
 legerdemain, by which they shall have got 
 ^possession oT Malta, have established themselves 
 in all their new colonies, have perhaps re- 
 entered Egypt, have received back twenty or 
 thirty thousand seamen, and have otherwise put 
 themselves into a situation to recommence the 
 War, with new and decisive advantages. If 
 they do not immediately take this course, it 
 will be, simply, because they will hope to 
 succeed as well without it; or, because they 
 choose to defer it till a more convenient oppor- 
 tunity: the means will, at every moment, be 
 in their power. 
 
 Two suppositions are, therefore, always 
 to be made, and two comparisons to be insti- 
 tuted, when we talk of the merits of this 
 Peace : 1st. That the enemy will choose to ad- 
 here to it, or, ildly, that they will break it : 
 and the two comparisons to be formed in conse- 
 quence are, 1st. The comparison between z 
 continuation of the War and a state of Peace, 
 such as Peace will be under the present Treaty ; 
 and 2dly, a comparison of the War, so con- 
 tinued, with such a War as France may revive 
 at any moment after the present Treaty shall 
 have taken effect. 
 
 What 
 
 f, 
 
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 f 
 
 14,1 
 
 r 
 
 I \ 
 
 i' 
 
 • , \- 
 
i i 
 
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 S4> 
 
 What the condition and feelings of the 
 country would be, in this latter case, namely 
 that of a renewed War, I need hardly point 
 out. The dread in fact of what they would be, 
 will operate so strongly, that the case will never 
 happen. The country will never bear to put 
 itself in a situation, in which the sense of its 
 own folly will press upon it in a way so impossi- 
 ble to be endured. At all events, with its present 
 feelings and opinions, the country never can 
 go to Wnr again, let France do what she will : 
 for, if we axe of opinion, that War, continued 
 •I present, must be ruin in the course of a few 
 years, what do we suppose it must be, when, to 
 replace us, where we now are, we must begin 
 hv ^he recovery of that list of places, which the 
 present treaty has given up ? France, therefore, 
 vvHl be under no necessity of going to War with 
 us; and nothing "but her own Intemperance 
 and insolence,, and an opinion of our endurance 
 and weakness, beyond even what they may be 
 I un i to He^erve, can force upon us that ex- 
 I r I :v. She has much surer and safer means 
 of going to work, means, at the same time, 
 sufficiently quick in their operation to satisfy 
 any ordinary ambition :— she has nothing to 
 do but to trust to the progress of her own 
 
 ^ power 
 
 25 
 
 power in Peace, quickened, as often as she 
 shall see occasion, by a smart threat of War. 1 
 cannot conceive the object, which a judicious 
 application of these two means is not calculated 
 to obtain. A Peace, such as France has now 
 made, mixed with proper proportions of a sea- 
 sonable menace of war, is a specifick, for the 
 undoing of a rival country, which seems to me 
 impossible to fail.— Let us try it in detail.— 
 Suppose France, by an arrangement with that 
 independent power, Spain, similar to the ar- 
 rangement which, In violation of the treaty of 
 Utrecht, produced the surrender of Louisiana, 
 and of the Spanish half of St. Domingo,* should 
 obtain the cession (which would be in violation 
 of no treaty,) of all the Spanish settlements in 
 America : would you consider that as an occa- 
 sion of war ? Suppose Portugal, the integrity 
 of whose possessions is in some sense or other 
 guaranteed to her, but who is not prevented, 
 1 presume, by that guaranty from parting with 
 anv of them that she pleases, should choose, in 
 kindness to France, to make over to her any ot 
 those settlements which she, Portugal, still re- 
 tains,_would that, again, be a cause of war-? 
 By these two ways, without the iniraction of 
 
 * See Appendix K. 
 
 D 
 
 any 
 
 \ y 
 
 '.<.' 
 
 '* 
 
 f 
 
 % 
 
 J 
 
 . ' k\ 
 
 \ I 
 
 „»i»»n*^" 
 
 ^dZZST- 1..;.- 
 
 ">«~*"W'' 
 
 r ,* 
 

 27 
 
 construed to be an aggression, much less wliicli 
 we should be inclined to treat as sucli, might 
 France render herself completely mistress of 
 the Continent of South America. Is there any 
 commercial claim, then, that France could set 
 up, any commercial regulation which she 
 could introduce, eidier in her own name, or 
 that of her allies, of a nature the most injurious 
 and fatal to our commerce, which we should 
 make a case of resistance, and diink of maani- 
 tude enough to involve die nation in another 
 war? — The augmentation of her marine, to 
 which professedly she means to direct all her 
 eflbrts, and the increase of her establishments 
 to any amount that she pleases ; these are ob- 
 jects which it would be perfectly ridiculous to 
 talk of, or to suppose that we should make the 
 subject even of the most friendly remonstrance. 
 Indeed, according to the modern doctrines of 
 not interfering in the internal concerns of ano- 
 ther country, I do not understand upon what 
 pretence the armament of a state can ever be- 
 come a subject of representation, since nothing 
 surely is so completely an internal concern, as 
 what any nation does with its own military or 
 naval forces, upon its own soil, or in its own 
 liarbours. But setting aside these smaller ob- 
 jects. 
 
 
 jects, suppose France was to rc-invacle Egypt ; 
 was, without waiting even for the form of a 
 surrender from the Order, to ta;ke forcible pos- 
 session of Malta ; was to land a body of troops 
 in Greece, and either in that way, or by suc- 
 cours to Paswan Oglow, was to overset the 
 government of the Porte ;— would you be able, 
 on any of these occasions, to satisfy those by 
 whose opinions it is now the fashion to guide 
 the counsels of states, that an interest existed 
 sufficiently strong to call for the interference of 
 this country, to prevent the mischief, much 
 less to redress and vindicate it when done ? Why, 
 Sir, we know that in the present state of 
 opinions and feelings, and upon the principles 
 on which the present Peace has been made, 
 not only no one, but hardly all of these put 
 together, would drag the country into a renewal 
 of hostilities, thougli, as is evident, its very ex- 
 istence might depend upon it. The conse- 
 quence is, that France is our mistress; that 
 there is nothing she can ask, which she must 
 not have ; (she has only to threaten war, and 
 her work is done;)— that all the objects of in- 
 terest and ambition which France can have in 
 view, lie open before her, to be taken posses- 
 sion of whenever she pleases, and without a 
 
 D 2 
 
 struggle : 
 
 *u 
 
 fi 
 
 : I 
 
 II 
 
28 
 
 any treaty, without any act which could be 
 struggle: her estabhshnients will accumulate 
 roui:d us till we shall be lost and buried in 
 them ; her power will grow over us, till, like 
 the figures in some of Ovid's Metamorphoses, 
 we shall find all our l^culties of life and motion 
 gradually failing and deserting us : 
 
 Torpor gravis aWgat art us; 
 
 MolUa cinguntur tenui pra:cordia libra. 
 
 If, in this last extremity, we should make anv 
 desperate eftbrts and plunges, that might 
 threaten to become troublesome, apd give us a 
 chance of extricating ourselves, she will call in 
 the aid of her arms, and \\ ith one blow put an 
 end at once to our suflering>, and our ex- 
 istence. 
 
 Sir, are these idle dreams, die phantoms 
 of my own disordered imagination ? or are thev 
 real and serious dangers, the existence of wliich 
 no man of common sense, let his opinions of 
 the Peace be what tkey may, will attempt to 
 deny ? The utmost that any man will pretend 
 to say, is, that he hopes, (and so do I) that 
 tlic evils apprehended will not happen ; and 
 that, great as the risk may be, he thinks it 
 preferable to those risks, which would aitend a 
 continuation of the War. None but the most 
 weak or inconsiderate, if they are not disaf- 
 fected/ 
 
 29 
 
 If] 
 
 fected, or absorbed and lost in the sense of some 
 immediate personal interest, will feel, when 
 tJiey shall well understand the subject, that 
 there is any cause of joy or rejoicing. 
 
 Here it is then, that I must advert again 
 to that topick of consolation, (miserable indeed 
 must our state be, when such are our topicks 
 of consolation,) to which, in order to make out 
 a case not perfectly hopeless, we are willing to 
 have recourse and which, more I believe than 
 any reliance upon our wealth, does really sup- 
 port us, in the situation to which we are re- 
 duced. This is the idea, diat from some cause 
 or other, from some combination of passions 
 and events,— such as no philosophy can ex- 
 plain, and no history probably furnish an exam- 
 ple of,— the progress of the Revolution \^'ill stop 
 where it is: and diat Buonaparte, like ano- 
 ther Pyrrhus,— or rather like that adviser of 
 Pyrrhus, whose advice \^ as 7iot taken, — instead 
 of proceeding to the conquest of new worlds, 
 will be willing to sit down contented in the en- 
 joyment of those which he has already. 
 
 Sir, the great objecdon to this hope, to 
 say nodiing of its baseness, is its utter extrava- 
 gance. On what possible ground do we be- 
 lieve this ? Is it in the general neiture of ambi- 
 tion r 
 
 r 
 
 i 
 
 B 
 
 H 
 
 I 
 
h 
 
 so 
 
 tlon? Is it in the nature of French ambition? 
 Is it in the nature of French revolutionary am- 
 bition? Does it happen commonly to those, 
 wliether nations or individuals, who are seized 
 v^ith the spirit of aggrandizement and acquisi- 
 tion, that they are inclined rather to count what 
 they possess, than to look forward to wliat yet 
 remains to be acquired ? If w^e examine the 
 French Revolution, and trace it correctly to 
 its causes, we shall find that the scheme of uni- 
 versal empire was, from the beginning, that 
 which was looked to as the real consummation 
 of its labours ; the object first in view, though 
 last to be accomplished; the primum mobile ih^i 
 originally set it in motion, and has since guided 
 and governed all its movements. 
 
 The authors of the Revolution wished to 
 destroy morality and religion. They wished those 
 things as ends : but they wished them also, as 
 means, in a higher and more extensive design. 
 They wished for a double empire; an empire 
 of opinion and an empire of .political power : 
 and they used the one of these, as a means of 
 effecting the other. What reason have we to 
 suppose, that they have renounced those de- 
 signs, just when they seem to touch the mo- 
 meat of their highest and fullest accomplish- 
 ment ? 
 
 31 
 
 ment? AVhen there is but one country, that 
 remains between France and the empire of the 
 w^orld, then is the moment, when we choose 
 to suppose that all opposition may be withdrawn, 
 and that the ambition of France will stop of its 
 own accord. — It is impossible not to see in 
 these feeble and sickly imaginations, that fatal 
 temper of mind, which leads men to look for 
 help and comfort from any source rather than 
 from their own exertions. We are become of 
 a sudden great hopers. We hope the French will 
 have no inclination to hurt us; — we hope, now 
 Peace is come, and the pressure of War, as it is 
 called, taken ofi', that the French Empire will 
 become a prey to dissensions, and finally fall 
 to pieces ; — we hope, that the danger to have 
 been apprehended from the example of the 
 Revolution, is now worn out; and that Buona- 
 parte, being now monarch himself, wall join 
 with us in the support of monarchical principles, 
 and become a sort of collateral security for the 
 British constitution. One has heard to be sure, 
 that magni animi est scpare; but the maxim, to 
 have any truth in it, must be confined, I appre- 
 hend, to those hopes which are to be prose- 
 cuted through the medium of men's ow^n exer- 
 tions, and not be extended to those, which are 
 
 to 
 
 m- 1 
 
 v\ 
 
11 
 
 32 
 
 to be independent of their exertions, or ratlier, 
 as in tlie present instance, arc meant to stand In 
 lieu of them. 
 
 Of this description are all those expecta- 
 tions which I have just enumerated; one of 
 which is, that the French will fall into dissen- 
 sions. — Why, Sir, they have had nothing else 
 but dissensions from the begiiiuing. But of 
 what avail have such dissensions been to the 
 safety of other countries ? One of their first 
 dissensions was a war of three years, called the 
 war of La Vendee; in which, according to 
 some of their calculations, the Republick lost, 
 between the tw^o sides, to the number of 
 600,000 souls. This was surely pretty well, in 
 the way of dissension. Yet when did this in- 
 terrupt for a moment, even if it might in some 
 degTce have relaxed, the operations of their 
 annies on the Irontiers, and the prosecution of 
 their plans for the overthrow of other countries? 
 As for changes of government, they have been 
 in a continued course of them. Since die be- 
 ginning of the Revolution, the government has 
 been overturned at least half a dozen times. 
 They have turned over in the air, as in sport, 
 Kke tumbler-pigeons ; — but have they ever in 
 consequence ceased their flight ? The internal 
 
 state 
 
 33 
 
 state of the country has been in the most violent 
 commotion. The ship has been in mutiny ; — 
 there has been fighting in the waist and on die 
 forecastle ;— but in the midst of the confusion 
 somebody has always been found to tend the 
 helm, and to trim the sails ; the vessel has held 
 her course. — For one, therefore, I have no 
 great confidence in the effect of these internal 
 commotions ; which every day become less 
 and less likely, in proportion as the power of 
 the present government becomes more con- 
 firmed, and as the people of France become 
 more and more bound together by the common 
 feeling of national glory, and by the desire of 
 consolidating the empire which they have seen 
 established. Such commotions may undoubt- 
 edly happen, and may of a sudden, when it is 
 least expected, bring about some change fa- 
 vourable to tlie world. But it is curious to hear 
 'these chances grav-ely brought forward, as the 
 best foundation of our hopes, and by those too, 
 who a few weeks ago, while the War conti- 
 nued, would never hear of them, as entering, 
 at all, into calculation. It seems, that the 
 chapter of accidents, as it is called, which 
 could do nothing for us in War, may do every 
 thing for us in time of Peace. \\'hereas I 
 
 L^ 
 
 
 should 
 
 
Ij*^'*""*' 
 
 3* 
 
 should have thought just the contrary; that 
 chances, such as are here intended, were not 
 only more likely to happen in war, but, what 
 is a little material, might then be better im- 
 proved and turned to account. While War 
 subsists, while armies are ready to act, while 
 confederacies are in force, while intelligences 
 are going on, while assistance may be lawfully 
 and avowedly given, every chance of this sort 
 may, if properly improved, lead to conse- 
 quences the most decisive. In Peace, all that 
 fortune can do for us, falls dead and still-born. 
 Nobody is ready, nobody is authorized to move 
 a step, or stretch forth a hand, to rear and 
 foster those chances, however promising, which 
 time and accident may bring forth. It is not 
 an answer to say, that such never have been 
 improved. In regulating plans of future con- 
 duct, we must consider not what men have 
 done, but what they may and ought to do. 
 The only rational idea that I could ever form 
 of resistance to that power, which unresisted 
 must subdue the world, was, that it must be the 
 joint effect of an internal and an external war, 
 directed to the same end, and mutually aiding 
 and supporting eacH other. . All the powers of 
 Europe could not subdue France, if France 
 
 was 
 
 35 
 
 was united; or force upon it a government, 
 even were such an attempt warrantable, really 
 in opposition to the wishes of the people. On 
 the other hand, no internal efforts, unassisted 
 by force from without, seemed capable of res- 
 cuing the country from the yoke imposed upon 
 it, so long as the several factions that governed 
 in succession, could find means of securitig to 
 themselves the support of the armies. We are 
 now required to believe, that what has hitherto 
 failed to be performed by both these powers 
 together, is to be effected by one alone: and 
 that with respect to any hope of a change of 
 government in France, the War that has been 
 carrying on for nine years has proved only an 
 impediment ! — Such is the state of our hopes 
 and opinions on that side. 
 
 But we have another hope, founded on 
 rather a contrary supposition, namely, that 
 Buonapari.6, now that he is a King himself — and 
 a King he is so far as power can make one, — 
 will no longer be an encourager of those absurd 
 and mischievous doctrines, which, however 
 they may have helped him to the throne, will 
 be as little pleasing to him, now that he is fairly 
 seated there, as to any the most legitimate 
 Monarch. Sir, I agree, that Buonaparte, like 
 
 E 2 other 
 
 / A 
 
h 
 
 36 
 
 other demagogues and friends of the people, 
 having deluded and gulled the people suffici- 
 rndy to make them answer his purpose, will 
 be rea -y enough to teach tlieni a different 
 lesson, and to forbid the use pf that language 
 towards himself, which he had before in- 
 structed them in, as perfecdy proper towards 
 others. Never was there any one, to be sure, 
 who used less management in that respect, or 
 who left all the admirers of the French Revo- 
 lution, within and without,— all the admirers 
 c?f it, 1 mean, as a system of liberty,-'in a more 
 whimsical and laughable situation. Every opi- 
 nion for wliich they have been contending, is 
 now completely trodden down, and trampled 
 upon, or held out in France to the greatest 
 possible contempt and derision. TJie Honour- 
 able Gentlemen on the Opposition Benches have 
 really great reason to complain of having been 
 ^o completely left in the lurch. There is not 
 even a decent retreat provided lor them. 
 
 But though such is the treatment, which 
 theprlnciplesof *^ the Rights of Man," and of 
 the** Holy Duty of Insurrection," meet with 
 in France, and on the part of him who should 
 he their natural protector, it is by no means the 
 ^ame, v/ith respect to the encouragement which 
 
 he 
 
 37 
 
 he may choose to give them in other countries. 
 Though they use none of these goods in France 
 for home consumption, they have always a 
 large assortment by them ready for foreign 
 markets. Their Jacobin Orators are not to be 
 looked for in the clubs at Paris, but in the clubs 
 of London. There, they may talk of cashieiing 
 Kings, with other language of that sort : but 
 should any orator more flippant than the rest 
 choose to hold forth in that strain, in the city 
 where the Great Consul resides, in the metro- 
 polis of liberty, he would soon put him to 
 silence, in the way that we see adopted in the 
 sign of the Silent AVoman. Buonapart6, being 
 invested, in virtue of the Rights of Man, with 
 despotick power, can afford to sanction the 
 preaching of those doctrines in other countries, 
 of which he will not suffer the least whisper in 
 his own. While he is at the head of an ab- 
 solute Monarchy in France, he may be the 
 promoter and champion of Jacobin insurrec- 
 tions every where else. The abject as well as 
 wicked nature of Jacobinism in this country, 
 which, while it would rebel against the lawful 
 authority of its own government, is willing to 
 enslave itself to France, finds no difficulty of 
 allowing to him these two opposite characters : 
 
 and 
 
-.%»., • ,.^^(«Mi%|^^«.'H«^* 
 
 I 
 
 38 
 
 and I know no reason why we should suppose 
 him disinclined to accept them. 
 
 I must confess, therefore, that I see as 
 little hope for us on this side, as I do on the 
 other. In fact, if I could believe, in spite of 
 all probability, that there was any remission of 
 that purpose, which has never yet ceased for an 
 instant,— the purpose of destroying this coun- 
 try,— such bcUef, however produced, must be 
 instantly done 2i\vvif by a view of the conduct 
 of France, in the settlement of this very treaty. 
 There is not a line of it, that does not either 
 directly point to the destruction of this country, 
 or, by a course a little circuitous, but not less 
 certain, equally tend to the same object. What 
 can France want with any of the possessions 
 which she has compelled us to surrender, but 
 with a view of rivalling our power, or of sub- 
 verting it, or of removing out of our hands the 
 means of controuUing her further projects of am- 
 bition ?— Of the first sort are all her stipulations 
 for settlements in South America and the West- 
 Indies : of the second, her demand of the 
 Cape and Cochin ; and of the last, that most 
 marked and disgraceful condition on our part, 
 the surrender of Malta. AVhat upon earth 
 could France have to do with Malta, but either 
 6 as 
 
 39 
 
 as a means of humbling us In the eyes of all the 
 world, by tlie surrender of it, or of depriving 
 us of a port in the Mediterranean, that might 
 stand in the way of designs which she is medi- 
 tating against the countries bordering upon that 
 sea ? 1 he miserable pretexts which are formed 
 to palliate this surrender, and the attempt to 
 cover it, in part, by the show of delivering 
 that fortress to the Order, though much the 
 greater part of the Order are now living in the 
 dominions of Buonapart6, and many of them 
 actually serving in his armies, are wholly in- 
 sufficient, either to conceal our shame, or to 
 disguise the purpose of the French in making 
 this demand. But the circumstances of the 
 negotiation, not less than the treaty resulting 
 from it, shew, in another way, the folly of 
 those hopes, which are founded upon the sup- 
 posed intentions or characters of the persons 
 with whom it is made. It does not augur very 
 favourably for the intentions of a party in any 
 transaction, that there appear in every stage of 
 it the clearest proofs of duplicity and fraud. — 
 What do we think of the artifice, which signs a 
 treaty with us, guaranteeing the integrity of 
 Portugal; but previously to that, at a period so 
 
 late. 
 
 .^ -v. 
 
 V X 
 
40 
 
 late, as to make it sure that the knowledge of 
 tiiu transaction shall not reach this country In 
 time, signs another treaty, totally altering the 
 
 nnturr ^)i' thai -imranty? What shall \\c liiiiik 
 of the caiuiuar and fairness, wh'cli hi a treaty 
 with us, proposes, as a joint stipulati r, the 
 e\a( uiu II of Eir^pt, at a time when the pro- 
 poser^ kne-v, though we did not, that e\i ry 
 soklit/r oilhnv- \n L-vpt was actually a prisoner 
 to our troops? Where was their gooii i ajJi to 
 the Turk=. vA'wn, m the same rirnimctanccs, 
 tht V kri A uig the fact and the Turks not, they 
 took credit li iii ikc Turks for thisvirv evacua- 
 ^: .,. 5 Wliv. Sir, it is a frand upon a level wiili 
 any ui those practised at a lottery-office. They 
 insure the ticket, at the moment when they 
 know it to be draWn. And are these the peo- 
 ple, to whose generosity and forbearance, to 
 whose good intentions towards this country, 
 an 1 above all, to whose good laith, we are to 
 deliver over, bound hand and foot, the interests 
 of the British Empire, to be destroyed or saved, 
 as they, in their good pleasure, shall think 
 
 fit? 
 
 I say nothing here on a topick. however 
 closely connected with the present subject, the 
 
 character 
 
 41 
 
 character of the First Consul himself *— a cha- 
 racter hitherto as much marked by frauds of 
 the most disgraceful kind, as by every other 
 species of guilt ; but pass on to the question, 
 which meets us at every turn, and seems to 
 stop the progress of all argument, the great 
 question—^* AVhat are we to do ? The danger 
 " is great, but how are we to avoid it ? AVar 
 '' cannot be eternal, and w^hat prospect Imve 
 « we of reaching a period, when it may be 
 '' terminated in circumstances upon the whole 
 " more favourable than the present ?*' f 
 
 Sir, the word, eternal, which in any use 
 of it is sufficiently awful, will undoubtedly not 
 be least so, when associated with the idea of 
 War. But I must beg leave to remind the House 
 of a circumstance, of which they and the 
 country seem never to have been at all aware, 
 that the question of eternal War, is one, which 
 it is not left for us to decide. It is a question 
 which must be asked of our enemies : and is 
 not less proper to be asked, if we could hope 
 that they would answer us at the present mo- 
 ment, than it w^as before the signature of the 
 
 F prelimi- 
 
 1 
 
 Jk 
 
 See Appendix L. f See Appendix M. 
 
 \i 
 

 i 
 
 9 
 
 J| 
 
 42 
 
 preliminaries. The War depends neither upon 
 conventions to be entered into between the two 
 governments, nor upon acts of hostility which 
 may be committed between the two people, by 
 land or on the high seas; but on the existence 
 or non-existence of that fixed, rooted, deter- 
 mined purpose, which France has hitherto had, 
 and which we liave no reason whatever to 
 think she has relinquished — of accompHshing 
 the final overthrow of this country. While that 
 purpose exists, and shall be acted upon, we are 
 at War, call our state by what name you please : 
 and the only question is, whether France can- 
 not work as effectually to her purpose in Peace ; 
 and if Peace is made in a certain way, infinitely 
 more effectual than she can in what is profes- 
 sedly and declaredly War. I would really wish 
 to ask, whether Gentlemen have never heard of 
 a people called the Romans, a set of repub- 
 licans who conquered the world in the old 
 time ; and whom the modern Romans take as 
 their model in every respect, but in none more 
 than in what relates to the overdirow of this 
 country ? Among the nations that fell under 
 the Roman yoke, there were but few whom 
 they were able to fetch down at a blow, — to 
 reduce in the course of a single A^'^ar. All 
 
 * their 
 
 A 
 
 43 
 
 vl 
 
 their greater antagonists, particularly the state 
 whose fate is chosen as a prototype of our own, 
 were not reduced till after repeated attacks, till 
 after several successive and alternate processes 
 of War and Peace : a victorious AVar preparing 
 the way for an advantageous Peace ; and an ad- 
 vantageous Peace again laying the foundation 
 of a successful War. This was at least the con- 
 * duct of a great people; a people not to be put 
 aside from their purposes by every transient 
 blast of fortune. They had vowed the destruc- 
 tion of Carthage ; and they never rested from 
 their design, till they had seen it finally accom- 
 plished. The emulators of their fortune in the 
 present day, are, in no less a degree, the emu- 
 lators of dieir virtues ; at least of those qualides, 
 whatever they may be, that give to man a com- 
 mand over his fellows. When I look at tiie 
 conduct of the French Revolutionary rulers, as 
 compared with that of their opponents ; when 
 I see the grandeur of their designs; the wisdom 
 of their plans ; the steadiness of their execution ; 
 their boldness in acting ; their constancy in en- 
 during; their contempt of all small obstacles 
 and temporary embarrassments ; their inflexible 
 determination to perform such and such things ; 
 and the powers which they liave displayed, in 
 
 r 2 acting 
 
 
44 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 acting up to that determination ; when I con* 
 trast these with the narrow views, the paltry in- 
 terests, the occasional expedients, the desultory 
 wavering conduct, tlie want of all right feeling 
 and jubi conception, that characterize so gencr 
 rally the governments and nations opposed to 
 tlicin, I ronfess I sink down in despondency, 
 anci am Luii to admit, that if they shall have 
 conqurrcd the world, it will be by qualities by 
 w liicli liu y ill serve to conquer it. Never were 
 there persons, who could shew a fairer title to 
 the iiilieritance which they claim. The great 
 uii ui iiuiiikind made by a celebrated phi- 
 
 41 !\1- 
 
 losopher of old, into those who were formed to 
 c^o^'ern. riic! those who were born only to obey, 
 v\ a- n tvLi mure strongly exeuiplihcd dian by the 
 French nation, ii- 1 those who have sunk, or 
 an Ml! 11-, under their yoke. Let us not sup- 
 pose, therefore, that while these qualities, con> 
 bined with these purposes, shall continue to 
 exist, they will ever cease, by niglit or by day, 
 in Peace or in War, to work their natural effect, 
 — tO gravitate towards their proper centre; or 
 that the bold, the proud, the dignified, the de- 
 termined, those who icill great things, and will 
 stake their existence upon the accomplishment 
 pf vvhat they have willed, shall not finally pre- 
 vail 
 
 ^ 
 
 45 
 
 vail over those, who act upon the very opposite 
 feelings ; who will ^^ never push their iesbtaiice 
 beyond their convenience;*' who ask for no- 
 thing but ease and safety; who look only to 
 sta\ve off the evil for the present day, and will 
 take no heed of what may befal them on the 
 morrow. We are therefore, in effect, at War 
 at this moment: and the only questiun ib, 
 whether the War, that will liencefoi w ai c! Dro- 
 ceed under the name of Peace, is likely to prove 
 less operative and fatal, than that which has 
 liitlierto appeared in its natural anci ordinary 
 shape. That such is our state, is confessed by 
 the authors themselves of the present Treaty, 
 in the measures which they feel it necessary to 
 recommend to die House. When did we ever 
 hear before of a military establishment neces- 
 sary to be kept up in time of Peace ? The 
 fact is, that we know that we are not at Peace ; 
 not such as is fit to be so called, nor that in 
 which we might hope to sit down, for some 
 time at least, in confidence and security, in the 
 free and undisturbed enjoyment of the blessings 
 which we possess. We are in that state, in 
 which the majority, I believe, of those who 
 hear me, are in their hearts more desirous that 
 we should be, than, in our present prostrate and 
 
 defcnce- 
 
 r\ 
 
 ;!' 
 
 i 1 
 
4(3 
 
 delenceless situation, they may think It prudent 
 to avow— ^in a state of armed truce ; and then 
 the only questions will be, at what price we 
 purchase diis truce ; what our condition will be 
 while it lasts ; and in what state it is likely to 
 leave us, should it terminate otherwise than as 
 we are willing to suppose. 
 
 . This brings us at once to die point. If 
 we are to come at last only to an armed truce, 
 would it not have been a shorter and better 
 coui-se, to turn our War into an armed truce, 
 into which in fact it had pretty much turned 
 itself, rather than to take the roinid about way 
 which lias been now adopted, of making Peace 
 by the sacrihce of all the means of future AVar, 
 in order afterwards to form an armed truce out 
 of that Peace ? Let us state the account, and 
 consider the loss and profit on either side. 
 
 The evils of War are, generally speakings 
 to be comprized under three heads : the loss of 
 Jives and the consequent atiliction brought upon 
 friends and families ; the loss of money, mean- 
 ing, by that, money expended in a way not to 
 be beneficial to the country that raises it ; and 
 the loss of money in another sense, that is to say, 
 money not got; by which I mean the Inter- 
 ruption given to national industry, and the 
 
 diminution 
 
 47 
 
 diminution of the productions thence arisin"-, 
 either by the number of hands withdrawn from 
 useful labour, (which is probably however but 
 little material,) or by the embarrassments and 
 restraints which in a state of War impede and 
 clog the operations of commerce. I do not 
 mean, that there are not in AVar, evils which may 
 be said not to be included properly under any 
 of the above heads ; among which may be num- 
 bered, the distress arising Irom sudden chancres 
 of property, even when the persons who lose, 
 and those who acquire, are equally parts of the 
 same community. Tills, however, is an evil 
 that will be more felt at the beginning, than in 
 the later periods of a A^^ar ; and will in fact be 
 likewise felt, though in a less degree, by a 
 transition even from AVar to Peace. The enu- 
 meration, now made, however, may be suffi- 
 ciently correct lor the present purpose. And, 
 with this in our hands, let us consider, in what 
 so very violent a degree, the present armed 
 truce, or Peace, if you choose to call it so, 
 differs from what might have been our state, in 
 the case so much dreaded and deprecated, of 
 a continuation of the AV^ar. 
 
 To take the last first, ~the loss of national 
 wealth by the interruption given to commerce 
 
 and 
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
4a 
 
 and Industry ; such is the singular nature of 
 this War, such the unexampled consequences 
 ,vith which it has been attended, that it be- 
 cumc a question, and one in itseh'of the most 
 anxious mid critical importance, on which side 
 ui the account the consequences of Peace m 
 this respect are to be placed : whether, instead 
 ot I) ilinrifi- the dangers of Peace, if such dierc 
 arc, b> accessions which it will brin- to our 
 wealth and commerce, we are not rather called 
 upon to prove some great advantages which 
 Peace v * ' give us in respect of security, in 
 order to balance the diminution likely to be 
 piu u 1 by it in our commercial opulence. 
 That our commerce will suffer at the long run, 
 admits, I fear, of no doubt. If my apprehen- 
 sions are just, it is in the diminution of our ma- 
 nufactures and commerce, that the approaches 
 of our ruin will first be felt ; but is any one 
 prepared to say that this may not happen in 
 the first instance ? We have it present, subject 
 ' to the inconveniences which War produces, 
 nothing less than the commerce of the whole 
 world. There is no part of the world to which 
 our goods do not pass freely in our own ships ; 
 while not a single merchant : ,. vvah the 
 enemy's flag on board, does ;- ^^- moment 
 
 swim 
 
 1^ 
 
 49 
 
 swim the ocean. Is this a state of things to be 
 lightly hazarded ? Does the hope of bettering 
 this condition, even in the .minds of those most 
 sanguine, so much outweigh the fear of in- 
 juring it, that these opposite chances can upon 
 the whole be stated otherwise than as destroying 
 each other: and that of consequence. In the 
 comparison of War and Peace, the prospect of 
 increased industry and commerce, which ni 
 general tells so much in favour of Peace, must 
 not here be struck out of the account ? On this 
 head the question between Peace and War 
 stands, to say the least of it, evenly balanced. 
 
 The next of these heads, the first, indeed, 
 in point of consequence, but the next in the 
 order in which it is here convenient to consider 
 them, is the loss of lives, and the effect which 
 War is likely to have on private and individual 
 Jiappiness. No man can pretend to say, that 
 War can continue upon any footing, however 
 restricted the circle of hostilities, without the 
 lives of men being liable to be sacrificed ; and 
 no such sacrifice can be justified, or reconciled 
 to the feelings of any one, but by thai wliic u 
 must justify every such sacrifice, however great 
 the extent — the safety and essential interests of 
 the State. But if ever there was a War In 
 
 G which 
 
 f \ 
 
 \ 
 
 
IP 
 
 > 
 
 t 
 
 1 
 
 50 
 
 which such sacrifices seemed likely to be fe\r, 
 not as an effect of any choice of ours, but by 
 the necessary course of events, it was that 
 which we should have had to carry on in future 
 with the Republick of France, 
 
 The great and destructive operations of 
 War, the conflict of fleets or armies, or the 
 Gonsujnption of men in unwholesome climates 
 and distant expeditions, had ceased of them- 
 selves. I know not what expeditions we should 
 have had to prosecute, unless new cases should 
 have arisen, similar to that of the ever-memo- 
 rable one of Egypt ; where, the same motives 
 existing, we should be sorry indeed not to have 
 the means of acting upon them. But in ge- 
 neral, our fleets would have remained quietly 
 at their stations, and our armies have lived at 
 home: the whole question reduces itself to 
 a mere question of expense ; and that agaifii 
 picUy much to a mere question of establish- 
 nient. — The great heads of war expenditure, 
 the army extraordinaries, would, in most parts, 
 have ceased ; and in the rest, have been great- 
 ly reduced. The chief question w^ill be, not 
 Ir iween an ordinary Peace establishment and 
 a AVar, such as, from circumstances, ours 
 has hitherto been, involving expeditions to all 
 
 parts 
 
 51 
 
 parts of the globe; but between a Peace esta- 
 blishment, such as that which is now declared 
 to be necessary, and a War, which had become, 
 and was likely to continue, merely defensive; 
 in which we should have had nothing to do, 
 but to maintain a competent force, with little 
 prospect of being obliged to make use of it 
 The advocates for the present Peace must find 
 themselves always in an aukward dilemina, be- 
 tween economy and safety. We make Peace 
 in order to save our money: if we reduce our 
 establishments, what becomes of our security? 
 if we keep up our establishments, what bo 
 comes of our savings ? AVhatever you give to 
 one object, is unavoidably taken from the 
 other. The savings of the present Peace, 
 therefore, can be looked for only between 
 the narrow limits of a high Peace and a 
 low War estabHshment; or, to state the case 
 more correctly, between a high Peace esta^ 
 blishment and a War, reduced in the manner 
 that I have described. I wish that a correct 
 estimate were formed of the difference, in 
 point of expense, between these two states; 
 recollecting always that among the expenses 
 of Peace are to be counted the provisions ne- 
 cessary against the new dangers brought by the 
 Peace itself; the new dangers for example, 
 
 G ^ with 
 
 I !| 
 
 
-^ ■'l^*»ivw !M«»»Wi?*' " 
 
 52 
 
 with which Jamaica, and all our West-India 
 Islands are threatened by the establishment of 
 the French in Saint Domingo, and other parts 
 in that quarter of the world : the new dangers 
 to which our empire in the East is exposed, by 
 the re-entry of the French into the peninsula 
 of India, and the cession to them, for such in 
 effect it is, of the Cape and Cochin : in ge- 
 neral, by the free passage now given to their 
 ships and armies into every part of the world, 
 and the establishment of them every where m 
 the neighbourhood of our most valuable pos- 
 sessions. 
 
 Against all these dangers War provided, 
 
 as it were, by its own single act. The existence 
 of our fleets upon the ocean, with an Admiralty 
 order " to bum, sink, and destroy," shut up 
 at once, as under lock and key, all those at- 
 tempts, .which are now let loose, and require 
 ^s many separate defences as there are parts 
 liable to be attacked. A fleet cruising before 
 Brest, therefore, was not to be considered as so 
 much clear expense, to be charged to the ac- 
 count of the War ; without deducting the ex- 
 pence of additional troops and additional ships, 
 which the absence of the fleet might require 
 to be kept, for instance in the West-Indies. 
 
 53 
 
 With respect to liome defence. Consider- 
 ins the httle reliance to be placed upon the 
 Government in France, now subsisting; the 
 still greater uncertainty with respect to any fu- 
 turc Government (such as may arise at any 
 moment) ; and the increased defence necessary 
 on land, in proportion to the diminution of our 
 force by sea ; 1 know not, how we can remain 
 secure with a military establishment much less 
 considerable, than that which we should hare 
 had to maintain here in the case of War. — So 
 much for the expenses of Peace. 
 
 On the other hand, we must consider, v\ aat 
 the reductions are that might be made to the 
 expense of War, beyond those, w^hich the 
 very scheme and shape of the War itself would 
 unavoidably produce. 
 
 The expenses of our army, as at present 
 established, are excessive : but what .should 
 hinder us from adopting some of those expe- 
 dients, by which a country not more considf^r- 
 able than Prussia, under the regulations intro- 
 duced by a former great monarch, is made c2h, 
 pable of maintaining a military establishment 
 superior to that of GreatrBritain :— The chiei 
 pf those expedients, and that which we could 
 l>est imitate, is^ the putting at all timrs the half 
 
 of 
 
 
 :l 
 
 '^i 
 
 ,.s 
 
I 
 
 5+ 
 
 of the army upon the footing of militia, to be 
 exercised only for a month or two, and to be at 
 home for the remainder of the year. Other 
 expedients might be suggested, if this were the 
 proper occasion for discussing them. 
 
 It IS true, as may be observed, that such a 
 reduction of expense, if it can be at all effected, 
 may be applied not less in time of Peace than 
 in time of War ; and in a comparison, there^ 
 fore, between the two, must be counted on both 
 sides. But that circumstance, as is plain, docs 
 not do away the effect of what is here stated. 
 If both sides are reduced, and reduced at all 
 proportionably, the absolute diff'ercnce, which 
 is what we are here considering, will be reduced 
 also ; not to mention that, w ith a view to what 
 will be the effect of the measure in other ways, 
 such a reduction may be better applied to a 
 large establishment, than it can to a small one. 
 Ifanarmy of 80,000 men, for instance, may, 
 for the moment, be reduced to half, because the 
 remaining 40,000 will still be a sufficient force, 
 it is not to be concluded, that a proportionate 
 reduction might be mad^ in an army of only 
 half that number, when the remainder, left on 
 an emergency for the defence of the country, 
 ^ - uld be no more than twenty thousand. 
 
 Consider, 
 
 55 
 
 Consider, therefore, when the reductions capa- 
 ble of being made, or certain of themselves to 
 happen, in a state of AVar, such as War might be 
 expected to be if continued from the present 
 time, and when the new and extraordinary ex- 
 penses incident to this Peace, shall have been 
 fairlv calculated, to what the difference between 
 
 ml 
 
 the two states \\ill amount; and taking then 
 this difference at its utmost, compare the money 
 so saved, with all the evils and dangers which 
 Peace, as now proposed, will give rise to : Or, 
 if the modern fashion is to prevail, and money 
 alone to be considered, compare the value of 
 the Sinking Fund created by this saving, with 
 the ditTcrcnce, in point of mere expense, of 
 the circumstances in which we shall be placed 
 at the commencement of any future War, should 
 France chuse to put us under this necessity. 
 By the result of these comparisons, must the 
 question be decided. 
 
 Should it so happen, (and wlio shall say, 
 that it will not ?) that our commerce, instead of 
 increasing, or remaining where it is, should fall 
 off'; that our manufactures should decline ; that, 
 from these and other causes, — such as a great 
 emigration, and considerable transfer of com- 
 mercial property ; — and above all from die great 
 
 loss 
 
i 
 
 i' ■ / 
 
 5^ 
 
 loss of territorial revenue, the income of the 
 state should be lessened, to a degree equal only 
 to this proposed saving, then we shall have in- 
 curred all the dreadful difference to be found 
 in our situation in case of the renewal of A\'ar> 
 and all the no less serious dangers during the 
 continuance of Peace, absolutely for nothing. 
 
 I select this only as the case which may 
 be considered as the most probable. In argu- 
 ment, to be sure, having already agreed to take 
 at par, our prospects with respect to the increase 
 or decrease of our commerce and manufactures, 
 I am not at liberty to insist on this case, or upon 
 the still more fatal one of a greater and more 
 extensive decrease, without allowing those who 
 argue on the other side, to avail themselves of 
 tlie supposition, that the sources of national 
 wealth may possibly be in a great degree aug- 
 mented. 
 
 At all events, however, and whatever be 
 the extent of these expected savings, and the 
 improvement to be made in consequence in our 
 f ^ mces, we are to estimate the evils and dan- 
 gers which are to be placed in the opposite scale, 
 the chief of which I have endeavoured to point 
 out, though in a very hasty and summary man- 
 JDiCr, in the observations, wath which I have 
 
 already 
 
 57 
 
 already troubled the House. Thpy may be 
 classed, generally, under three heads : — The 
 ascendency, which it is feared, France may in 
 time acquire, even in those sources of greatness, 
 which we seem inclined to consider as a sub- 
 stitute for all others, our manufactures and com- 
 merce ; supposing, as I am here doing, that 
 Peace continues without interruption, and even 
 without any great advantage being taken, of the 
 threat of axenewal of hostilities. Secondly, the 
 effect to be produced, in a Peace so constituted, 
 by the continued use of this menace,— an engine 
 of which it is difficult to calculate the force, 
 applied, as it may be, to every point on which 
 the interests of the countries are opposed, and 
 for the accomplishment of every object, which 
 Franc?kmay wish to attain. Thirdly and lastly. 
 War it4lf ; begun of course at such moment, as 
 France shall judge most advantageous to her, 
 and when by a due improvement of the pre- 
 ceding period of Peace, Great Britain shall have 
 been placed in a situation to be least capable 
 of resisting its effects. On these points, having 
 spoken to each already, as far as the occasion 
 seems to admit, though far short of what the 
 subject demands, I shall detain the House no 
 longer, but leave to every Gentleman to form 
 
 H his 
 
 /: 
 
 
 •f 
 
 V 
 
 1. 
 
 i;^ 
 
 -^v 
 
'1 
 
 58 
 
 his own judgment on the extent and reality of 
 these dangers, and finally to settle the com- 
 parison between these (with others connected 
 with them) and the continuance of the War, 
 such as War from this time might be expected 
 to prove. The only head of danger, to which 
 I wish now to speak, is one of a quite different 
 nature ; but so serious, so certain, so imminent, 
 so directly produced by tlie Peace itself, that I 
 must not omit to say a few words upon it. This 
 is, the danger now first commencing; and 
 which may be conveyed in a single word, but 
 that, I fear, a word of great import — Inter- 
 course. From this moment the whole of the 
 principles and morals of France rush into this 
 country witliput let or hindrance, with nothing 
 to limit their extent, or to controul thw in- 
 fluence. While the War continued, liot only 
 the communication was little, or nothing, but, 
 whatever contagion might be brought in by 
 that communication, found the country less in 
 a state to receive it. The very heat and irrita- 
 tion of the War was a preservative against the 
 infection. But now that this infection is to 
 come upon us in the soft hour of Peace ; that 
 it is to mix with our food ; that we are to take 
 it into our arm? ; that it is to be diffused in the 
 
 very 
 
 tV 
 
 w 
 
 59 
 
 very air we breath ; what hope, can we sup- 
 pose, remains to us of escaping its effects ? — 
 This, I used formerly to be taught, before the 
 weight of taxes had lessened our apprehensions 
 of French fraternity, was one of the conse- 
 quences most to be dreaded in Peace, in what- 
 ever form it should come, short of the restora- 
 tion of some Government, not founded on 
 Jacobinical prmciples. But somehow or ano- 
 ther, the very idea of this danger seems long 
 since to have vanished from our minds. We 
 are now to make Peace in the very spirit of 
 peace, and to throw ourselves without reserve 
 into the very arms of France. With respect, 
 indeed, to one part of the danger, the princi- 
 ples of France,— meaning by that the political 
 principles, — we are told, that all danger of that 
 sort is at an end ; that in this country, as every 
 where else, the folly of the revolutionary prin- 
 ciples is so thoroughly understood, that none 
 can now be found to support them. Jacobin- 
 ism is, as it were, extinct : or, should it still 
 exist, we shall have, as our best ally against 
 it, Buonapart6 himself. 
 
 Sir, I have already stated what my confi- 
 dence is in that ally. I know that neither he per- 
 sonally, nor any other of the free governments 
 
 H 2 that 
 
 rt 
 
 
 
60 
 
 I . 
 
 if 
 
 that have subsisted in France, have ever suffered 
 these doctrines of Jacobinism to be used against 
 thein t Kes. But I must again ask, on what 
 gi. iua! we suppose, that France has renounced 
 the IP of them, w^ith respect to other r untries? 
 Wc have heard less, indeed, of late, of her 
 principles, because we have heard, and felt, 
 more of her arms. For the same reason, we 
 may possibly hear litde of them in future. But 
 do they therefore cease to exist ? During the 
 V iole course of the Revolution, France has 
 sometimes employed one of these means, and 
 sometimes the other. Sometimes the arms liave 
 opened a way for the principles, at others the 
 principles have prepared the object, as an easy 
 conquest to the amis: — In the flight of this 
 chain-shoL, sometimes one end has gone fore- 
 most, and sometimes the other, and at times 
 they may liavc struck their object at once : but 
 the two parts alike exist, and are inseparably 
 linked together. 
 
 Nothing, therefore, can in my mind, be 
 more idle than this hope of the extinction of 
 
 '^ Cf 
 
 nism, either as an instrument t 
 
 () in: IJ -i il 
 
 o d 
 
 b) i Kdi^L, should her occasions require lU t^r ao 
 principle ever to be eradicated out of inv com- 
 munity, in which it has taken one i 't I luu - 
 
 ,./ 
 
 61 
 
 ever true it may be, that the example of France 
 ought to serve as the strongest antidote to its poi- 
 son, and that it does so, in fact, in the innids 
 vlniAuv, yetit isequ^ii)' irue, that, ui anuiiicr 
 view, and to many odier persons, it operates in 
 n directly contnirv wav, — not as a wariHiin, but 
 as an incitement. What I am now speaking of, 
 is, — however, not the danger of the political 
 princ ij !( s of France, but the still surer and more 
 dreadful J anger, of its morals. What are we 
 { > Lhink of a country, that having struck out of 
 UH us minds, as far as it has the power to do so, 
 all sense of religion, and all belief of a future 
 life, has struck out of its system of ri'vil polity, 
 the institution of marriage ? That has formally, 
 professedly, and by law, established the con- 
 nexion of the sexes, upon the tbotln^ ui an 
 uin «?'n nied concubinage ? That has turned the 
 whole country into one universal brothel ^ That 
 leaves to every man to take, and to e t rid 
 of, a wife, (the fact, T believe, continues to 
 be so,J and a wife, in like manner to get rid ot 
 her lilt band, upon less notice than you can, in 
 this C( uhtrv, 6f a readv-furnished lodging ? 
 
 "W hai a. e we to think of uniting with a 
 couiitrv, in wliich such things have happened, 
 and wLere for generations the effects must con- 
 tinue. 
 
 \i 
 
r 
 
 \i 
 
 62 
 
 tinue, whatever formal and superficial changes 
 prudence and policy may find it expedient to 
 introduce in the things themselves. 
 
 Do we suppose it possible, that, with an 
 intercourse subsisting, such as, wc kii ^w, will 
 take puce between Great-Britain ami Trance, 
 the morals of this country should continue what 
 tliey have been ? Do we suppose that when this 
 Syrus in Tiberim dejiuxit Orontes, when that 
 ' revolutionary stream,' the Seine, charged with 
 all the colluvies of Paris, — with all the filth and 
 blood of that polluted city,— shall have turned 
 its current into the Thames, that the waters of 
 our fair ' domestick flood' can remain pure and 
 wholesome, as before ? Do we suppose these 
 niinz:^ ran happen? Or is it, that we are indif- 
 irRiu, u i : acr they happen or not: and ihat 
 the morals of the country are no longrr any 
 object ui uui concern ? 
 
 Sii . I fear, the very scenes that we shall 
 witness, even in the course of the present win- 
 ter, will give us a suflScient foretaste of what we 
 i \ expect hereafter; and show, how little 
 the morals of the country will be protected by 
 those who should be their natural guardian, 
 the higlu r and fashionable orders of society. 
 la what crowds shall we see flocking to liie 
 3 hotel 
 
 63 
 
 hotel of a Regicide Ambassador, however dcp 
 m all the sfuilt and horror of his time, those, 
 whose doors have hitherto been shut inflexibly 
 against every Frenchman ; whom no feeling for 
 honourable distress, no respect for suffering loy- 
 alty, no sympathy with fallen grandeur, no de- 
 sire of useful example, — and in some instances, 
 I fear, no gratitude for former services or civi- 
 lities, have ever been able to excite to show the 
 least mark of kindness or attention to an emi- 
 grant of any description ; though in that class 
 are to.be numbered men, who-in every circum- 
 stance of birth, of fortune, of rank, of talents, of 
 acquirements of every species, ue fully their 
 equals \ and whom the virtue that has made them 
 emigrants, has, so far forth rendered their su- 
 periors ! A suite of richly furnished apart- 
 ments, and a ball and supper, is a trial, I fear, 
 too hard for the virtue of London. 
 
 It is to this side, that I look with greatest 
 apprehension. The plague with which we are 
 threatened, will not begin, like that of Homer, 
 with inferior animals, among dogs and mules, 
 but in the fairest and choicest part of the crea- 
 tion ; with those, whose fineness of texture 
 makes them weak; whose susceptibility most 
 exposes them to contagion; whose natures, 
 being most excellent, are, for that very reason, 
 
 capable 
 
 %f 
 
'H\ 
 
 64f 
 
 capable of becoming most depraved ; who, 
 
 beinir t'^''nird to promote the hapninr?- of the 
 
 world, iiiu)'-, wiicii •' strained iVuiLi Uiai laa use/' 
 prove iis bane and destruction; rttaniirii;, as 
 
 ih(;'\- will st\]\ do, much of thiii tiiipin- which 
 
 i i i i li r. ii i ,U 
 
 far iilties of the other half of the species.* " The 
 
 winnan u^rii[)n. ti me, and I did eat," Will br lu be 
 said, f I ir, of this second fall of man, as i was 
 of the first. Sir, we heard much last vrar, of 
 il'iv necessity of new laws to check liiu giuwing 
 progress of vice d immorality. I suppose we 
 1iarc!t\ iiitan t ^ persist in any such projects. It 
 will be t . hddish to be busying ourselves in 
 stopping cvf !\ liitle crevice and aperture, 
 throiiLrti will h vice may ooze in, wlien we.are 
 pen at once the flood gates, and admit 
 
 » ( y; 
 
 the whole tide of French practices nnd pniici- 
 pics, uli the morals of the two countries sLali 
 have settled at their common level. 
 
 I must beg here, not to be told, that of 
 Ihis kind of argument die only result is, that we 
 should never make Peace with France at all, 
 until the monarchy should be restored. The 
 argument implies no such thing. That no kind 
 o Peace with France will be safe, till tlirn, T 
 
 Uill 
 
 * Sec Appendix N. 
 
 lis 
 
 65 
 
 am not in the least disposed to deny : but the 
 iiaiure of human affairs does not admit of our 
 gi iting always what we may think most admira- 
 !)it 'Wc mncf take up often with what is far short 
 ui our ideas, either of advantage or safety. The 
 question at present is, whether in either of those 
 views, we ought to take up with the present 
 Peace: and among the evils incident to it, and 
 nil mediately resulting from it, I state one, 
 whicli, iii conjunction with others, is to be 
 weighed against its advantages; namely, the 
 havock likely to be made by it in our principles 
 and morals. If any one should be of opinion, 
 that this consideration is of so much weight, that 
 War, almost upon any terms, is preferable to 
 Peace with a state, founded upon a declared 
 Auk i 111, and filled with all the abominations 
 and pollutions certain to result from such an 
 origin, it is not my business to dispute with him: 
 but that is not the way in which the argument 
 is applied here ; nor is it indeed applied in any 
 way, otherwise than as a consideration, making 
 part of the case, and to which every body is to 
 allow what weight he shall think proper. The 
 iiubfortune of the country has been, that it has 
 never seen, and felt, fully, the extent of its 
 d inger. The country, — speaking of it in ge- 
 : - I neral. 
 
 /I 
 i i 
 
 

 
 I'll 
 
 I 
 
 ll) 
 
 1 4 
 
 neral, and not with a view to particular place?, 
 or classes of people, upon whom the pressure of 
 the \\ li 1 as borne with peculiar cevc rin,— lias 
 been so rich, so prosperous, so iiipi y; men 
 have er* ved here in so superior a degree, and 
 with such }>erfect freedom from molestation, all 
 the blessings and comforts of life, that they have 
 never been able to jx^rsuade themselves, that 
 any real harm could befall them. Lvtii those, 
 who have clamoured most loudly about the 
 dangers of the country, have given at times, the 
 most exaggcrted representations of them, have 
 really, and when their opinions come to be ex- 
 amined, never described this danger as any 
 thing truly alarming. For their danger has al- 
 ways been a provisional and hypothetical danger, 
 such as we should be liable to, if we did not 
 conform to such and such conditions: but as 
 these conditions were always in our pownr, :ird 
 art now, as we see, actually resortLa lu, uui 
 real and absolute danger was, in fact, none at 
 nil. ** You will be ruined, if you continue thr- 
 " War ; but, make Peace, and you are safe :" 
 and unquestionably, as there can hai ilv line 
 been a period, when a Peace, such a^ ih pre- 
 sent, was not In our power, — if such i Peace 
 can give us safety, there never was a pen d 
 
 when 
 
 - 
 
 .1. 
 
 •? 
 
 * 
 
 
 67 
 
 when we could properly be said to have been 
 
 in iK-inger. We had a purl iiiway:^ under bur 
 lee ; so that if it came to overblow, or the ship 
 Inhour^d too much, we had nothing to do, but 
 to pui up our helm, and run at once into a 
 
 ;place of safety. But mv iden<? of the liangi -r 
 
 have aiwax > bucn of a far diflbrent sort, lu iiic 
 it has ever seemed, that the danger was not con- 
 ditinna! but absohite : that it was a qiuolu.ao 
 w hether we cuuid be saved upon an) other ivJin^ , 
 w liothcr we could weather this shoal upon either 
 tack, 'ihc port appeared to me to be an enemy's 
 |juu , where, though we might escape the dan- 
 crni- of the sea, we should fall into the hauub oi 
 ihe savages, who would never suiJer us to see 
 again our native land, but keep us in a state of 
 thraldoiiu far mure to be dreaded than the ut- 
 most iur}' oi' the vv^aves. 
 
 I have ncvrr pretended to say, that there 
 w ere not dangers iri W;ir, as unquestionably there 
 are iircat evils ; I b ivc said only that there were 
 evijc; anh oan2:ers, not less real and certain, in 
 1 1 .a e, |) imcularly in a Peace, made on such 
 terms as the t n-ent For terms of Peace, In 
 spite oi whui we here talked, have some- 
 thing to do with rendering our situation more 
 or less secure, even in those respects, ip which 
 
 1 2 they 
 
 f ii 
 
 iv 
 
I 4 
 
 'I 
 
 ii 
 
 6$ 
 
 they are supposed to operate least. In general, 
 though terms, however advantageous, would 
 not secure us against the mischiefs of French 
 fraternity, and the infusions of French princi- 
 ples and morals, yet they would make a little 
 difference, I apprehend, as to the effect which 
 Peace would produce in the feelings of Europe; 
 as to the air of success and triumph which it 
 would give to the enerny, and of defeat and 
 humiliation, which it would impress upon us; 
 as to the consequences resulting from thence, 
 even with respect to the propagation of 
 French principles, but certainly as to the con- 
 firmation of French power ; and, above all, as 
 to the situation in which we should stand, should 
 France choose to force us again into a War. The 
 port of Malta, strong as it is, would not, lite- 
 rally, serve as a bulwark to stop the incursions 
 of Jacobinism: figuratively, it would not be 
 without its effect in that way : yet there would 
 be some difference, I conceive, at the begin- 
 ning of a War, whether we werein possession of 
 Malta or not; and in the mean while, the 
 knowledge of that difference, in the minds of 
 the enemy, and of ourselves, would be quickly 
 felt, in any discussions which might take place 
 between us, in time of Peace. 
 
 The 
 
 69 
 
 The dangers of Peace, therefore, are aug- 
 mented a hundred-fold by terms at once so 
 degrading and injurious, as those to which 
 we have submitted : on any terms on which it 
 could have been concluded, it would have had 
 its dangers, and dreadful ones too; France re- 
 maining a revolutionary government, and being, 
 as it is, in possession of Europe. Whether that 
 evil must not ultimately have been submitted to; 
 whether the hopes of change, either from coali- 
 tions without, or commotions within, might not 
 have become so small, and the evils of War, 
 however mitigated, so great, that we must have 
 made up our minds, after taking the best se- 
 curities against those dangers that we could, 
 finally to have acquiesced in them, is a separate 
 question, which I will not now discuss. But the 
 time in my opinion was not come when such 
 unqualified acquiescence on our part was re- 
 quisite; when we were to cease to enquire what 
 those securities were; or when we ought to have 
 taken up with such securities, if securities they 
 can be called, as are offered by the present treaty. 
 The great misfortune has been, that this ques- 
 tion of Peace has never yet been fully and 
 fairly before the country. We have been taken 
 up with the War; that was tlie side of the al- 
 ternative 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 f I 
 
 
 ','*« 
 fas 
 
 [*. •<# 
 
 -«■■-• 
 
D': 
 
 I. 
 
 Ill 
 
 'if 
 
 70 
 
 ternative next to us; — and have never yet, till 
 it was too late, had our attention fairly directed, 
 or, I must say, fairly summoned, to the dread- 
 ful picture on the other side. If we had, we 
 should never have heard, except among the 
 ignorant and disaftccted, of joy and exultation 
 through the land, at a Peace such as the 
 present. 
 
 Here, Sir, I have nearly closed this sub- 
 ject. One only topick remains, a most impor- 
 tant one indeed, but which I should have been 
 induced, perliaps, on the present occasion, to 
 pass over in silence, if in one part of it I did 
 not feel myself called upon, by something of a 
 more than ordinary duty. 
 
 When a great military monarch of our 
 time* was at the lowest ebb of his fortunes, and 
 had sustained a defeat, that seemed to extinguish 
 all his remaining hopes, the terms of his letter, 
 written from the field of battle, were — " We 
 have lost every thing, but our honour." Would 
 to God, that the same consolation, in circum- 
 stances liable to become in time not less disas- 
 trous, remained to Great-Britain ! I should feel a 
 far less painful load of depression upon my 
 
 mind, 
 
 ♦ See Appendix O. 
 
 $ 
 
 71 
 
 mind, than weighs upon it at this moment. 
 But is our honour saved in this transaction? Is 
 it in a better plight than those two other objects 
 of our consideration, which I have before 
 touched upon, our dignity and our security? I 
 fear not. I fear that we have contrived to 
 combine in this proceeding, all that is at once 
 ruinous and disgraceful ; all that is calculated to 
 undo us, in reputation as well as in fortune, and 
 to deprive us of those resources, which high 
 fame and unsullied character may create, "even 
 " under the ribs of death,*' when all ordinary 
 means of relief and safety seem to be at an end. 
 I am speaking here, not of the general discredit 
 that attaches to this precipitate retreat and flight 
 out of the cause of Europe, and of all mankind ; 
 but of the situation in which we stand with 
 respect to those allies, to whom we were bound 
 by distinct and specifick engagements. I must be 
 very slow to admit that construction, which con- 
 siders as a breach of treaty any thing done by a 
 contracting power, under a clear band fide neces- 
 sity, such 33 the other party itself does not pretend 
 to dispute. If an absolute conquest of one of the 
 parties to an alliance does not absolve the other 
 from the obligation which it has contracted, so 
 neither can a timely submission, made in order to 
 
 3 avert 
 
 I''' II 
 It 
 
 Wb 
 
 y 
 
 i \ 
 
 • % 
 
 i 
 
 ) 
 
 /l( 
 
 k? 
 
 >i 
 
 m 
 
 At 
 
 ■fi 
 
w 
 
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 Q 
 
 fh' 
 
 •fl 
 
 ^ 
 
 r 
 
 avert such conquest, when the remaining party 
 itself shall not be able to describe that submission 
 as injurious either to her own interest, or to that 
 of the common cause. If we were not in a 
 state to say to Sardinia, that it was better for us 
 that she should continue her resistance, rather 
 tlian accept the terms offered her; then, I say, 
 we are not in a state to consider her submission 
 as a forfeiture of the claims which she had up- 
 on us. We have left Sardinia, however, with- 
 out an attempt to relieve her, without even a 
 helping hand stretched out to support or to 
 cheer her, under that ruin which she has brought 
 upon herself, with no fault on her part, while 
 adhering faithfully to her treaty with us. I 
 must call that adherence faithful, which has 
 continued as long as we ourselves could say, 
 that it was of any use. — The case of Sardinia 
 is, with no great variation, the case of Holland 
 also. Both powers were our allies; bodi are 
 ruined, while adhering to that alliance; both 
 are left to tlieir fate. But Sardinia and Holland 
 are two only of our allies ; and placed in 
 circumstances of peculiar difficulty. There 
 were others, it may be said, more capable of 
 being assisted, for whose security and protection 
 every thing has been done, that the most scru- 
 pulous 
 
 73 
 
 pulous fidelity could require. Naples, Portugal, 
 and Turkey, will attest, to the end of time, the 
 good taith of Great-Britain ; and shew to the 
 world diat she is not a power, who evpr seeks 
 her own safety by abandoning those with whom 
 she has embarked in a common cause. Sir, if 
 I were forced to make a comparison between 
 the instances, in which we plainly and openly 
 desert our allies, and those in which we affect 
 to protect them, I should say, without hesi^ 
 tation, that those of the former class were the 
 least disgraceful of the two ; because our pro- 
 tection is in fact nothing else but a desertion, 
 with the addition of that ridicule which attaches 
 upon things, that endeavour to pass for the re- 
 verse of what they really are. 
 
 The protection which we yield to these 
 unfortunate powers, is much of the same sort 
 with that which Don Quixote gives to the poor 
 boy, whom he releases from the tree ; when he 
 retires with perfect complacency and satisfac- 
 tion, assuring him, that he has nothing more to 
 fear, as his master is bound by the most solemn 
 promise not to attempt to exercise against him 
 any farther severity. We know. Sir, what 
 respect was paid to this promise, as soon as the 
 knight was out of sight; and it is not difficult 
 
 K to 
 
 I 
 
 
 M, 
 
 :i 
 
 (J 
 I 
 
 
I 
 
 »; 
 
 
 : ? 
 
 
 to foretell, what respect will be paid by Buona- 
 parte, (without waiting even, I am afraid, tiH 
 'ttiy Honourable Friends shall be out of sight), 
 to this solemn stipulation and pledge, by which 
 WT have provided so effectually for the security 
 of the dominions of our good and faithful allies. 
 
 The ridicule of this provision, which in 
 any ca- ^ would be sufficiently strong, has, un- 
 doubtedly, in the case of Turkey, something 
 of a higher and livelier relish; Turkey being 
 the power, in whose instance, and with respect to 
 precisely the same party, the total insufficiency 
 and nullity of such engagements has been so 
 strikingly manifested, and is still kept so fresh 
 in our memories, by the very operations with 
 which the War has closed. 
 
 So much as to our conduct towards those 
 powers, with whom wc stood in the relation of 
 allies, according to the usual diplomatick forms; 
 and whom the common policy of Europe had 
 been accustomed to consider under these and 
 similar relations. 
 
 But there w as another body of allies, not 
 ranked indeed among the European powers, 
 nor possessing much, perhaps, of a corporate 
 capacity, but who, as men, acting either sepa- 
 rately or together, were equally capable of be- 
 
 ; coming 
 
 X* 
 
 75 
 
 coining objects of good faith, and i^i fact had so 
 become, though by means diiEferent, in point of 
 form, from those which engaged the faith of 
 the coujntry, in any of the instances above al- 
 luded to: — These persons were, the Royalists 
 of France, wheresoever dispersed, but particu- 
 larly that vast body of them which so long 
 maintained a contest against the Republick, in 
 the West; where they formed the mass of the 
 inhabitants of four or five great provinces, far 
 exceeding, both in extent and population, the 
 kingdom of Ireland.* I mention these particu- 
 lars of their force and numbers, not because 
 they are material to the present purpose, but 
 because they serve to obviate that delusion of 
 the understanding, by which things, small in 
 bulk, and filling but little space in the imagina- 
 tion, are apt to lose their hold on our interests 
 and aflfections. The mention of them may, 
 moreover, not be unnecessary in this House, 
 where, I fear, from various causes, all that re- 
 lates to the Royalists is a perfect teira incognita, 
 as little known or considered, as the affairs of a 
 people in another hemisphere. The Royalists 
 were, however, a great, numerous, and substan- 
 , K 2 tive 
 
 See Appendix P* 
 
 1 1 
 
 I 
 
 '(,■ 
 
 m 
 
 .^tf 
 
"111 
 
 il 
 
 H 
 
 i ' 
 
 7* 
 
 live body, capable of maintaining against the 
 Republick a War, confessed by the Repub- 
 licans themselv^es to have been more formidable 
 and bloody, than most of those in which they 
 had been engaged ; and of terminating that 
 War by a Peace, which showed sufficiently 
 what the War had been, and what the fears 
 were, which the Republick entertained, of its 
 possible final success. But let the numbers and 
 powers of the Royalists have been what they 
 might; had their affairs been still less con^ 
 sidered ; had they been more disowned, dis- 
 countenanced, and betrayed, than in many in- 
 stances they were ; had more such garrisons as 
 those of Mentz and Valenciennes been suiFered 
 to be sent against them ; ^^ had they been less the 
 real, prunary defenders and representatives of 
 that cause, which the Allies professed to sup- 
 port; still there were our formal Proclamations, 
 issued at various periods, not expressly engaging 
 indeed to make stipulations for them in case of 
 a Peace, but calling generally for their exer- 
 tions, and promising succour and protection, to 
 nil those who should declare themselves in 
 favour of the ancient order of things, and of 
 
 their 
 - ■ ' •■ 
 
 ♦ See Appendix Q, 
 
 
 n 
 
 their hereditary and rightful Monarch. What 
 1 am to ask, is, have we acted up to the spirit, 
 or even the letter, of our own proclamations ? 
 or to tlie spirit of that relation, in which the 
 Jiature of the War itself, independent of any 
 proclamations, placed us with respect to these 
 people ? I am compelled to say, (I say it with 
 great reluctance, as well as with great grief,) I 
 fear we have done no such thing. I fear, that 
 a stain is left upon our annals, far deeper than 
 that, which, in former times, many were so 
 laudably anxious to wash away, in respect to 
 the conduct of this country towards the Cata- 
 lans. The Catalans were not invited by any 
 declarations more specifick than those which 
 We have made to the Royalists : their claim 
 upon us was in some respects more doubtful. 
 Yet, so far were they from being passed over 
 in silence in the terms of the Peace ; so far 
 were they from being abandoned to their fate, 
 left to the merciless persecution of their enemies, 
 that a stipulation was made for a full and com- 
 plete amnesty for them ; and, far more than 
 that, a provision, that they should be put upon 
 the same footing, and enjoy the same privi- 
 leges, with that province which was in fact the 
 most favoured under the Spanish Monarchy. 
 
 Yet, 
 
 I n 
 
 m 
 
 u 
 
 
 ■'^ 
 
 ( 
 
 ■, itj 
 
 i'lirr 
 
\l 
 
 1! ♦ 
 1 
 
 i% 
 
 )i-\ 
 
 
 #fl* 
 
 
 78 
 
 Yet, because more was not done ; because they 
 were not placed in the situation of enjoying all 
 that they asked; — much of it, perhaps, having 
 more of an imaginary than a real value ; — be- 
 cause in a part, where their claim was more 
 disputable, perfect and entire satisfaction was 
 not given them ; did a large and respectable 
 majority of this House think it necessary to in- 
 stitute a solemn inquiry, — the intended foun- 
 dation of proceedings still more solemn, — in 
 order to purge themselves and the country, as 
 far as depended on them, from the shame of 
 what they deemed a breach of. the national 
 faith. 
 
 By what purgations, by what ablutions, 
 ghall we cleanse ourselves from this far deeper 
 and fouler blot, of having left to perish under 
 the knives of their enemies, without even an 
 effort to save them, every man of those whom 
 we have affected, as it must now appear, to 
 call our friends and allies; with whom we 
 were bound, by interests of far higher import 
 than those of a disputed succession; who were 
 the assertors with us of the common morality 
 of the world; who were the true depositaries 
 of that sacred cause, the very priests of that 
 holy faith ; with whom we had joined, as it 
 ! ^ were. 
 
 19 
 
 were, in a solemn sacrament; and who, oii 
 all these grounds, but chiefly for the sin of 
 having held communion with us, are now, as 
 might be expected, doomed by the fanatics of 
 rebellion, to be the objects of never-ceasing 
 hostility, to be pursued as offenders, whose 
 crimes can only be expiated by their destruc- 
 tion ? 
 
 I agree with what has been said by my 
 Honourable Friend [ Chancellor of the Exche- 
 quer], that Peace once made, all communica- 
 tion with this, or any other class of people, 
 hostile to die French Government, must com- 
 pletely cease. Whatever the Government is, 
 or whatever its conduct may be with respect to 
 us, if we think fit to make Peace with it, that 
 Peace must be religiously kept. I am not for 
 curing one Jpreach of faith, by another. But 
 was nothing to be done, in the final settlement 
 of that Peace ; and still more during the time 
 which has elapsed since the first commencement 
 of the negotiations ? I wish a satisfactory an- 
 swer could be given to those inquiries. I wish 
 it were true, that, for months past, numbers had 
 not been perishing throughout the royalist pro- 
 vinces, the victims of their loyalty and honour; 
 ---{men hunted down, like wild beasts, for acts, 
 
 which 
 
 •I 
 
 I. 
 
 
 \ 
 
 ''!J 
 
 
{■^' 
 
 ,1 ' 
 
 ■A i 
 
 llij 
 
 I 
 
 ^ I* 
 
 80 
 
 which that Government may call crimes, but 
 which we, I hope, have not yet learned so to 
 characterize ;) — simply for want of §u.ch means, 
 as might have enabled them to effect their es- 
 cape, and, after the loss of every thing but 
 what their own minds must bestow, to have 
 sought an asylum in some foreign land. 
 
 Sir, I would gladly draw a veil over these 
 facts. But our shame is too flagrant aj)d glaring, 
 to be concealed : the cry of diis blood is too 
 loud to be stifled. I beg to wash my hands of 
 it. The share which I have happened to have 
 in the aftairs of this illustrious and unfortunate 
 people ; the interest which I have always taken 
 in their cause; make mc doubly anxious to 
 vindicate myself from any participation in the 
 guilt of having thus abandoned them. I wish I 
 could vindicate, in like manner, the Govern- 
 inent and the Country. Among all our shames, 
 it is that of the most fatal nature, and of which, 
 possibly, we shall longest rue the eftects. - 
 
 Sir, I have done. I have stated, as I 
 thought it my duty to do, Avhat my apprehen- 
 sions are, as to the nature and consequences of 
 
 the 
 
 L 
 
 * See Appendix R. 
 
 81 
 
 tlie present Peace, If the evils which I impute 
 to it, are not to be found there^ if the dangers 
 which I apprehend should not come to pass, na 
 one will more rejoice in my erroi* than myself: 
 those who differ from me will have nothing to 
 complain of; I shall have alarmed myself; I 
 shall not, probably, even have to reproach 
 myself with having succeeded in alarming 
 them. But if any there should be, (there are 
 none I am sure in this House), who should 
 say, that my fears are not imaginary; that 
 they think of this Peace as I do ; that 
 they apprehend it will ruin the country ; but 
 that they hope the country may last long 
 enough to serve their turn ; that being traders, 
 they think the trade of the country may be 
 lost; that, being manufacturers, they believe 
 its manufactures may decline ; but that for this 
 they care but little, provided the Peace in the 
 mean time shall prove advantageous to them ;-^ 
 to all such, if any there can be, there could bt 
 but one answer,— that they are a disgrace to 
 their country and to their species ; and that he 
 must be as bad as they, who, upon such terms, 
 could seek to merit their good opinion, or 
 could solicit their favour. I trust, however, 
 that no such men are to be found ; but that all 
 
 L -vvho 
 
 U 
 
 
 71 
 
 I 
 
82 
 
 who rejoice in the present Peace, do it under 
 a persuasion, that the good which they may 
 hope to derive from it, individually, is not to 
 be obtained by the sacrifice of the final welfare 
 and safety of their country^ 
 
 ' 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 A. — Page 6. 
 
 It would have been too much to have urged the plea 
 of poverty in a country, which was at that moment excit- 
 ing the envy and jealousy of all the world % its exorbi- 
 tant wealth. 
 
 B.— Page 14. 
 The answer to be given to this question, in the case 
 of the present treaty, will be best ascertained perhaps by 
 recurring to wliat happened when the terms of the treaty 
 were fir^t declared. It was some time before any body 
 could be found to believe them. The first reporters, when 
 they stated that every thing was given up, except Ceylon 
 and Trinidad ; that Demerary, Cochin, the Cape, Malta, 
 all were gone ; were treated as persons who were jokmg, 
 or who were themselves the dupes of some idle joke put 
 about by the Opposition. Nobody could believe that the 
 terms of the treaty were in reality such as that description 
 
 represented them. 
 
 On the Continent, where the speculations are apt to 
 be more refined ; after some time given to disbelief, the 
 difhculty was solved by the supposition of secret articles. 
 * Some great advantages were to be secured to Great-Bri- 
 
 L 2 tain 
 
 jy 
 
 1 ; 
 
 i 
 
 il 
 
 (i. 
 
 
w 
 
 S4 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 
 I I 
 
 tain of another kind;' 'Buonaparte was to abdicate:' ' Louis 
 
 the XVlIIth was to t>e restored:' &c. &c. It never 
 
 entered the thought of any one, that the state of tJfings 
 
 was finally to prave, what it appeared in the first instance ; 
 
 and that from mere impatience of contest, from sheer 
 
 impotence of mind, Great-Britain had thus suddenly stop. 
 
 pedin her career; dropped down as in a fit, and, aban. 
 
 doning all her means pf defence, was rolling herself in the 
 
 dust at the feet of her adversary, regardless of what in 
 
 future was to become of her, and looking to nothing but 
 
 such temporary respite, as ' the satiate fury' of the foe, 
 
 or some feeling still more degrading to her, might happen 
 
 to yjeld. 
 
 85 
 
 C — Page 16. 
 
 This position will not be thought to have become 
 less commanding by the completion of an event, which, 
 Jost as this country is to all feeling of its situation, doel 
 seem to have produced some slight sensation, namely, 
 the extinction of the Cisalpine Republick, and the repro, 
 duction of it under the new form and title of the Italian. 
 Those who before doubted, to what degree Buonaparte 
 was master of Europe, may find here wherewithal to settle 
 their opinion. It is not the mere assumption of so much 
 pew territory, or of so much new dominion at least, over 
 a territory already dependant ; nor the new danger arising 
 from thence to Austria; (either of them circumstances, tha'^t 
 in former times, would have set the Continent in a flame,) 
 t)ut what the state must be of the Powers of Europe, who, 
 ever ^hey ^re, when they can sit quiet spectators of tliis 
 
 proceeding, 
 
 proceeding, without daring to stir a step to prevent it. 
 The assumption of this territory, though it be only a 
 change in the form of the dominion exercised over it, 
 must by no means be considered as of little importance. 
 As has been well observed, (vide Cobbett's Register, page 
 114) the use to be made of a country, in any state of in- 
 dependence, however nominal, is by no means the same, 
 as when that country is placed at once in the hands of 
 the governing power. France is mistress, it is true, of 
 Spain and Prussia, and of Holland, Switzerland, Genoa, 
 Tuscany, and all the south of Italy : but not to the same 
 degree of the two former countries, as she is of the 
 others ; nor of the others, in the same manner as she is 
 of the new Italian Republick. There may be a difference 
 C)f several weeks. 
 
 D.—Page 17. 
 
 Among the posts and ports included in this descrip- 
 tion, we must not omit to particularize the Island of Elba, 
 with its port, Porto Ferrajo. This little island, small in 
 extent, but not small in consequence, and rendered nobly 
 conspicuous at the close of the day, by the last parting 
 rays of British glory, which fell upon it, was supposed 
 by the provisions of the Treaty of Luneville to have 
 been left indirectly only in the power of France; inasmuch 
 as it was expressly stipulated, that it was to form part of 
 the territories of the new king of Etruria, — a king made 
 by France ; in the wantonness of her malice, and as a 
 mockery of the ancient sovereigns of Europe. The pos- 
 session of the Island, however, in this way was not thought 
 
 sufficient ; 
 
 *%,. 
 
0t ! 
 
 f. ♦ 
 
 SO i 
 
 1 ( 
 
 #1 
 
 pH 
 
 «6 
 
 appendix; 
 
 sufficient ; and therefore, that nothing might be ^vantinp: 
 to malk that perfect contempt of good faith which has 
 nc\Tr failed to be manifested by the Republick in all her 
 •transactions with other countries, Elba was to be obtained 
 by a secret treaty with the King of Spain,— the chief of 
 the house of which the King of Etruria was a member. 
 'The consequence was, that when Austria in the Treaty of 
 Lunevillc, and England in the late Prehminary Treaty, 
 thouo-ht that they had left this island, such as it had al- 
 ways be€n before, part and parcel of the dutchy of Tus- 
 cany, they found it, to their great surprize, rising up 
 ao-ainst them, as a separate possession in the hands of 
 France, ready to be employed for the more easy subju- 
 gation of Naples, and for whatever other purposes France 
 might have to prosecute in that quarter of the world.— It 
 is not easy' to conceive an instance of more contemptu- 
 ous imposition on one side, nor of more forlorn and pitiable 
 acquiescence on the other. 
 
 E. — Page 16, 
 
 Great doubt seems to be entertained at this moment, 
 ivliether France will or will not finally obtain possession 
 of St. Domingo; and great exultation to be fekin conse- 
 quence by those, who, a few- months ago, upon the ground 
 that the conquest of St. Domingo, by France, was neces- 
 sary for the security of our own islands, had consented to 
 •so extraordinary a measure as the sending out an immense 
 • armament, from the enemy's ports, in the interval between 
 the Preliminary, aid the Pefinitive Treaties. The proba- 
 bility is, that France will succeed, so far at least as to keep 
 
 possession 
 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 8t 
 
 possession of part of the island : but should she not, then aU 
 the terrors affected to be felt at the establishment of a Black 
 Empire, will return with ten-fold forces for the Blacks w.U 
 remain master.>-and masters after having tried their pow- 
 ers in a regular contest with European troops,-not to men- 
 tion the hostility which they may well be suspected to con- 
 ceive against us, who after various treaties and negotia- 
 tions, the nature of which may require hereafter a little 
 examination, finally lent our assistance to the sending out 
 a force, intended for the purpose of bringing them back to 
 slavery. Should the other event happen, and France ob- 
 tain possession of St. Domingo, it may then well be a 
 question, how long we shall remain in possession of Ja- 
 maica. So little can ordinary men enter into that pro- 
 found scheme of policy, which would give to your enemy 
 at a peace, or even before peace was concluded, what you 
 lud yourself been attempting to acquire during the war, 
 at the expense of more than ten tliousand men, and pro- 
 bably of twice as many miUions of money. 
 
 II 
 
 F.— Page IS. 
 
 What is here supposed is now found to be the fact. 
 By a secret treaty settled with Spain, on the 2 1st March^ 
 1801, but not to be declared till after peace with. Eng- 
 land, or till ministers' should be found, who previously to 
 peace would suffer France to do what she pleased, Spain 
 cedes to France the possession of Louisiana, and with it, 
 as is supposed, that of the tw^o Floridas. It is impossible 
 to pretend that this event was one which could not have 
 been foreseen. It was foreseen by the treaty of Utrecht j 
 
 it 
 
 tns 
 

 p f 
 
 A P F E N I> I X# 
 
 k was foreseen by the fears of every rdlecting American ; 
 it was pointed out to the people of America, nearly six 
 years ago, not only as an event likely to happen, but a» 
 likely to happen in the very mode which we have now 
 aeen, (Vide Cobbett's Register, page 199.) Putting 
 foresight out of the question, the fact must have been 
 known, had the Ministers here either dared to question 
 France, or instead of allowing France to negotiate for her 
 allies, insisted on treating directly with those powers them- 
 selves. 
 
 Dreadful is their responsibility, by whom these pre- 
 cautions have been neglected, and by whom these things 
 have finally been suffered to happen. But the crime or 
 madness of those who have caused these evils, is less to 
 us than the evils themselves. France has hitherto reckoned 
 her progress by states and kingdoms: she may now count 
 by continents : she has established herself in the new world. 
 By the possession of these countries, placed as they are, 
 and combined with those which before belonged to her, 
 she will hold, as by a sort of middle handle, the two great 
 divisions of this quarter of the globe, and will brandish 
 these continents hke the blades of that tremendous instru- 
 ment, which did such signal service in the patriot hands 
 of Lord Edward Fitzfjerald. 
 
 The consequences of this acquisition in one of the two 
 hemispheres (North America) are well detailed, in dif- 
 ferent parts of tbe work above referred to. (See p. 44, 
 199, 253, and 265.) France planted now in the same 
 continent with the United States, cutting them off from 
 some of their richest districts, extending her settlements 
 behind them, gradually but not slowly, till the mouths of 
 
 the 
 
 Appendix, 
 
 89 
 
 • 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 
 A 
 
 the Mississippi shall be united with the sources of the St, 
 Lawrence, will soon make them feel the want of that secu- 
 rity which they have hitherto derived from an intervening 
 ocean : and against a new and unconsolidated mass of 
 states will finally effect that, which it required only ten 
 years to accomplish against the old and well-compacted go- 
 vernments of Europe. In the mean-while we may employ 
 ourselves in considering, what is likely to be her controul 
 over the conduct of America as respecting this country ; 
 what the danger to Canada, and to that portion of our 
 trade, which is carried on with those countries; what the 
 effect of a French establishment in Louisiana and the Flo- 
 ridas, joined to what France will have in St. Domingo, 
 Martinique, and Guadaloupe, upon the whole of our West- 
 Indian interests and possessions. 
 
 But it is on the other side, and towards the South, that 
 the scene is most awful ; where we behold the whole wealth 
 of the new world lying exposed in goodly prospect, and 
 France, with no other point to settle than the moment when 
 it may suit her convenience to take possession of it. Buo- 
 naparte, established in Louisiana, has as ready an access to 
 the treasures of the Spanish mines, as any banker has to 
 his strong box. Thanks to those who have given him the 
 key of them. The weahh of Spain will from hencefor* 
 ward, directly and immediately, and with no necessity for 
 any intermediate process, be the wealth of Fiance : and 
 let no man flatter himself with the hope, that it will be- 
 t ome in her hands, what it was in those of its former pos- 
 i^^jssors, the means of enfeebling strength, and relaxing- 
 industry and exertion. In succeeding to the riches of 
 ^pain, there is no ground to hope, that France will sue- 
 
 M ceed 
 
 %. 
 
 ! 
 
 IIMillll|li|l|l|lllllll IHMIiHH 
 
90 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 91 
 
 V^ 
 
 ceed to her weakness or folly. She will better profit by 
 the example of her predecessors, and will keep her wealth 
 in a due and perfect subordination to the higher and dearer 
 interests of her ambition. Her mines will be only the store- 
 house of her power. She will see, in these dark rcposito- 
 /les, nothing but a magazine of future wars; which, like 
 winds from the cave of ^clus, will rush forth to sweep 
 the earth, and level whatever may yet be found to oppost- 
 the final accomplishment of her wishes. 
 
 Una Eurusque Notusque ruunt, creberque procellis 
 Africus, et vastos volvunt ad litora fluctus. 
 
 An open boat in the Bay of Biscay, with all the storms 
 of heaven raging for its destruction, does not present an 
 image of more unequal contest, than Great-Britain strug- 
 Hing with a power, which combines against her the old 
 world and the new ; which, to the force of nearly the whole 
 continent of Europe, to something in Asia, to much ii) 
 Africa, and more in the West-Indies, adds the naval re- 
 sources of the continent of North America, and the wealth 
 of the Spanish mines. 
 
 All these latter dangers, be it remembered, are created 
 solely and exclusively by the peace. While war continued, 
 these resources could never have gone to the enemy ; they 
 ini'ght, at any moment when necessity had been press- 
 ing, or hope in Europ« had become extinct, have been 
 seeured to ourselves. . The fear of this was probably the 
 cause which preserved so long to Spain and Portugal the 
 nominal independence which they ha*-e enjoyed. But 
 these advantages (we shall be told) could only be obtained 
 by war ; and war is ruin.— Not exactly indeed to every 
 
 country ; 
 
 country; because to France it has proved the means of 
 empire and greatness; and even in Great-Britain, up to 
 the period of the ninth year of war, the progress pf ruin 
 did not seem to be very alarming. We shall know, be- 
 fore long, what the efficacy is of that provision, whiqh 
 grave and sober men have made for the happiness and 
 6;^fety of their country, in peace. * ^ 
 
 G.— Page 18, 
 
 There is no chance that the evils of the Peace in 
 this respect will be done away, whatever may become of 
 the particular cession here alluded to. Between the boun- 
 dary settled by the treaty of Madrid and the boundary now 
 contended for, in whatever treaty this latter is to be found, 
 the difference is so small as hardly to be worth disputing. 
 Either will give to France the command of the river Ama- 
 zon. In this view the French may ppssibly concede the 
 point: unless indeed the assurances given by our ministers, 
 that they meant to do so, may be a reason with them for 
 Diaintaining it, 
 
 , H —Page 19. 
 
 There have always been, in the House of Commons, 
 some half dozen or dozen sensible men, who having found 
 out, that Great-Britain was an island, have been of opi» 
 nion, that all continental connexions are iiyurious, and 
 calculated only to fill the pockets of those, who, in return 
 for English guineas, had nothing to give but the valour and 
 military talents of their subjects. As the progress of reason 
 
 M ? is 
 
 VI 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 s 
 
93 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 93 
 
 I ' 
 
 i «^ 
 
 II ! 
 i i 
 
 if 
 
 is slow, this party had remained for a century or more in a 
 very obscure minority, opposed by all who for their wisdom 
 or talents, or supposed knowledge of pitblicfe affairs, had 
 figured at any time in the history of the country. But 
 oppressed as the party had long been, they have lived to 
 see the day, when their opinions are at length triumphant; 
 and when the ministers of the country, with the full ap- 
 probation of Pajliament and of the Nation, are settling 
 a treaty of peace upon a formal recognition of their 
 principle, and declare in substance, that Great Bri- 
 tain has no longer any concern or interest in the affairs 
 and situation of the Continent. It is only unfortunate, 
 that time has not yet been given to evince the truth of 
 this principle by experience. When it shall be seen that 
 this renunciation of foreign connexions, and retreat into 
 our insular resources shall have produced no harm, but 
 thUt, on the contrary, the power and prosperity of Great- 
 Britain shall have risen higher than before, then will this 
 doctrine have received its full and final confirmation. 
 
 I.— Page 22. 
 
 See Etaf de la France^ by Hautrive, a work published 
 at Paris, in 1600, immediately under the direction of the 
 French Government, and universally understood to be 
 intended as a sort of manifesto of their sentiments. See 
 also the various regulations introduced for the prohibition 
 of our manufactures, even in the interval between the Pre- 
 Bminary and Definitive Treaties, 
 
 A FEW 
 
 K.— Page 25. 
 
 A FEW weeks before the above discourse was delivered 
 this would have been a mistake : for the treaty of Utrecht 
 equally provided against the cession of any of these set- 
 tlements, as against the cession of St. Domingo : but it is 
 one of the distinguishing characters of the late prelimina- 
 ries, — and a most alarming one it is— that contrary to the 
 almost uniform practice, they revived no former treaties; 
 so that the treaty of Utrecht, as respecting this country 
 and France, may be now considered as abrogated. 
 
 L.— Page 41. 
 
 The topick here alluded to is so closely connected 
 with this subject, that the argument is evidently defective 
 without it. An opinion indeed prevails, and is insisted 
 upon by persons of much apparent wisdom and gravity, 
 that any inquiry into the conduct and merits of the First 
 Consul is unbecoming and improper ; unsuited to the dig- 
 nity of a great assembly, and incapable of being made 
 conducive to any useful purpose. To many, however, it 
 may seem, that just the contrary of this is the fact: that 
 in the history of the world, an instance can hardly be 
 found of any one, whose personal qualities were so much 
 a subject of general concern, and consequently so proper 
 an object of inquiry ; and that the occasion of all others, 
 when such inquiry must be most pro}}er and necessary, 
 was that in which we were preparing to sign a treaty of 
 peace with the person in question, founded exprossiy upon 
 
 our 
 
«C*"' 
 
 94 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 95 
 
 I 
 
 1 • 
 111 ■ 
 
 "1 
 
 our confidence in his character, and entrusting to the issue 
 of our judgment in that respect, the whole of the interests, 
 welfare, independence, and even existence of a great em- 
 pire. ^ 
 
 Without inquiring generally into the history of the 
 person thus confided in, let us recur only to a few of those 
 passages of his life, which apply most immediately to tho 
 trust, which we i|re here reposing, A detailed and most 
 masterly exposition of these is to be found in Mr, Pitt's speech 
 of the 3d February, 1800, in which among other particulars, 
 an account is given of his proceedings towards the people 
 and governments of the several states of Milan, Modena, 
 Genoa, Tuscany, the Pope, Venice, and Egypt. Of all 
 of these it may be said generally, and as it should seem 
 without exception, — such was purposely the profusion of 
 engagements, and such the uniform and systematick breach 
 of them, — that not a single act was done, which was not in 
 violation of some engagement, and certainly not a single en- 
 gagement contracted, or profession made, that was not, 
 in every part of it, grossly and in most cases instantly vio- 
 lated. The French rulers have, throughout, evidently acted 
 upon the principle, that he who could divest himself at once 
 of all moral feeling, and release himself from all moral con- 
 troul, must for the time have an immense advantage over those 
 ■who should remain under the old constraints, and who 
 might not be sensible immediately of the change which 
 had taken place, or, when they were, might be long inca- 
 pable either of adopting it into their own conduct, or of 
 so correcting their ancient feelings and habits (the habit 
 for instance of relying in some degree on men's assurances, 
 yielding something to their professions, believi^ig in part 
 
 what 
 
 what they should solemnly assert), as to make themselves 
 proof 'against its effects. Nobody has entered more fully 
 into these views, or pursued them to greater extent, than 
 the person of whom we are here speaking ; whether when 
 employed in the service of others, as in the instances, 
 which we were proceeding to state, or when he afterwards 
 set up for himself, and turned * these instructions' * to 
 plague the inventors,' — the people who now find them- 
 ijelves under his yoke. 
 
 . In Lombardy, a proclamation, issued immediate!/ 
 upon his entrance into the country, and containing assu- 
 rances the most solemn, of* respect for property, respect 
 for rehgious opinions,' — principles, which he declared to be 
 those of the French Republick, as well as of the army, 
 which he commanded, — was followed instantly by a suc- 
 cession of exactions, amounting to many millions sterling, 
 and by such violations of every religious opinion and feel- 
 ing, as could be intended only to produce, what it at last 
 accomplished, the driving the people to something like 
 resistance, and thus furnishing a pretext, (unsupported as 
 it was to the last, even by the insurrection which had 
 been provoked,) of murdering eight hundred of the inha- 
 bitants of a single town, and delivering over the country 
 to mihtary plunder and execution. 
 
 In Modena, the proceedings, though upon a smaller 
 scale, were of the same cast and character. 
 
 In Tuscany, to the breach of the general rights of 
 neutralit}', (that neutrality so prudently observed, as was 
 declared in the House of Commons,* by the wise Prince 
 who governed that country) j to the breach of a treaty made 
 
 the 
 
 • By Mr. Fox. 
 
 I 
 

 96 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 J ■ 
 
 \ 
 
 f 1 
 
 the year before by the Republick, was added that of a 
 positive engagement made a few days before by himself. 
 In spite of all these rights, and treaties, and engagements, 
 and for the sake of an act, %vhich was in itself the grossest 
 violation of one of them, viz. the seizing an enemy's pro- 
 perty in a neutral port, he marched into the country with 
 as little ceremony as if he had been taking up his quarters 
 in a part of the Republick ; and having completed his work, 
 agreed indeed to retire, but not till he had exacted from 
 this unfortunate, though wise Prince, certain conditions as 
 the price of his departure, and among others a large pe- 
 cuniary contribution, for the expenses which the French 
 bad incurred in thus invading his territories. 
 
 In Genoa, tliese breaches of treaty, and violations of 
 faith, were diversified by a happy mixture of those mea- 
 sures, by which protection to the independence of states, 
 is made to signify a forcible change of their governments; 
 and defence of the rights of the people, the establishing 
 over them a foreign and military tyranny. But as these 
 proceedings, though equally a breach of faith with the 
 others, seem to belong more peculiarly to the class which 
 we have just noticed, we will say no more of them here; 
 and for the same reason, as well as from the inutility of 
 citing separate instances, where the wliole procGocling 
 from beginning to end is nothing but one coiitiiiui d in- 
 stance, we will forbear to dwell upon all the ti.igitiouf 
 violences, and cruel and scandalous outrages, which at- 
 tended the invasion of the Pope's states, in which, though 
 breach of faith had no less a share than in any of the 
 transactions before enumerated, it is lost and merged as 
 it were, in the various other sensations of indignation and 
 
 disgust, 
 
 91 
 
 disgust, which the events of that period are calculated to 
 call forth. 
 
 The last scene of these proceedings of the First Con- 
 sul, comprized within the period of his Italian command. 
 Jay in the states of Venice ; and, as it happens commonly 
 at the close of the piece, the incidents here seem to have 
 become more numerous, and to possess something of a 
 higher and stronger interest. The general descrip- 
 tion of them is, however, the same, « a perpetual renova- 
 tion of hope, and a perpetual disappointment ;' professions 
 of friendship followed by instant acts of hostility; assu- 
 rances of protection serving only as a prelude to every 
 species of violence ; a^d a solemn treaty of peace, enga- 
 ging to preserve to the country its government and laws, 
 ending in the subversion of both, either by the immediate 
 hand of him who signed the treaty, or, as happened in 
 this instance, by the transfer of the country < to the iron 
 yoke' of that very power, the deHvery of it from which 
 was the professed object of his interference, and the ground 
 on which all his proceedings were to be justified. 
 
 What happened on these occasions in Italy, was re- 
 newed afterwards, so far as respects fidelity to treaties 
 and sincerity in negotiation, in all the transactions of a 
 similar nature, in which Buonaparte was concerned, either 
 as a commander acting with large discretionary powers, 
 or, as placed himself, at the head of the Republick. 
 The detail of these would shew, that mere change of 
 time and place made no change in the character of the 
 person, or of the system pursued. It appears by all, that 
 good faith passed for nothing: that deceptions the most 
 gross, artifices unheard of in diplomatic proceedings, were 
 practised without shame or scruple. When a party was 
 
 N once 
 
 
ss 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 t 
 
 once engaged in a negotiation, and placed in a situation in 
 which he could no longer help himself, it was in vain to 
 expect that any regard would be paid to the professions, 
 in which the negotiation began, or to declarations which 
 occurred in the course of it. Any old engagement was 
 set aside, or any new one foisted in, as suited the wishes, 
 original or incidental, which France happened to entertain. 
 Of all this proofs will be found, more or less, in each of 
 the negotiations and conferences, which took place during 
 the period here considered ; that is to say, from the close of 
 the campaign in Italy in 1797 to the hnal settlement of what 
 is called the peace of the continent; particularly in what 
 passed at Luneville respcctihg the security to be enjoyed by 
 Naples, and in the convention with the Arch Duke at 
 Steyer, relative to the armistice between Generals Brunc 
 and Bellegarde. 
 
 But it is in Egypt, that the character of the First 
 Consul is to be seen to greatest advantage. It is there 
 that we are to look for it in its highest and most perfect 
 state. It is in the rich and fertile plains of Egypt, under 
 the heat of those more ardent suns, that his virtues seem 
 to shoot forth with most luxuriance, and to acquire a spi- 
 rit and flavour, unknown in the colder regions of Europe. 
 We will say nothing here, of that gigantick contempt of 
 good faith and publick morality, which first conceived the 
 project of the expedition ; of the outrages which followed 
 in the train of it ; of the happy inversion of all right and 
 justice, wliich treated as rebels, and consigned to instant 
 execution, those of the inhabitants who presumed to de- 
 fend their country against a foreign invader — an invader, 
 whom none of them had offended, and wliom half of them 
 had never heard of, till they found liim seizing upon their 
 
 property, 
 
 V 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 9sr 
 
 property, and putting to death all who dared to oppose him : 
 We will pass over the massacre of three thousand prisoners, 
 in cold blood, at Jaffa, and will conse:.. cO treat as doubtful 
 the strange though hardly less authenticated fact, of his 
 causing poison to be administered to the sick of his own 
 army. The circumstance which most forces itself upon 
 the attention, which most attracts the eye of the connois- 
 seur in the midst of this vast and splendid collection, is 
 that singular combination of all that is great and all that 
 is little,— -all that is great in guilt and mischief, all that is 
 little and despicable in the means of its execution, — the 
 pretence of having become a convert to the Mahomedan 
 Faith, and the use to be made of that pretence for the pur- 
 pose of committing an act of the most compHcated fraud 
 and treachery. Nobody conceives of course, for a mo- 
 ment, that faith, or religious opinion, had any thino- 
 to do in this proceeding from one end of it to the 
 other. The case exhibits nothing but a reneo-ade Chris- 
 tian, who is affecting not to be an Atheist, only in the hope 
 that he may pass for a Mahomedan. The whole was a 
 pretence, for the pur|X)se of robbing an allied prince of his 
 dominions. In this act, however, it is not the mere 
 fraud and imposture that most excites attention : instances 
 of that sort, in our police offices and criminal tribunals, 
 are familiar to us every day. It is not even the horrid and 
 blasphemous impiety of itr we have heard of Dutch 
 schippers tramphng upon the crucifix. What most 
 characterises the transaction, wliat is its true di tinc- 
 tive property, is the singular and utter shamelessness 
 of it; the total abandonment of all regard for cha- 
 racter or decency, wliich could commit such an act 
 
 N3. ift 
 
/ 
 
 
 appendix; 
 
 in the face of day, with all Eiirope spectators and wit- 
 nesses, but placed only, as he hoped, at such a distance, 
 that they could not interpose in time, could not cry " stop 
 thief," so as to put the parties upon their guard and pre- 
 vent the robbery fiom being completed. Buonapart6 knew, 
 that what he 4i4 in Egypt must be known in six weeks to 
 all Europe, he knew, that in Europe there was not a hu- 
 man being, man, woman, or child, who would be the dupe of 
 this pretended conversion, or who would see in it any 
 thing but a shocking and base contrivance to strip the 
 Turks of Egypt. But he was content, that the transaction 
 should be «o seen. He thought, that this cheating the 
 Turk would be considered as a clever trick, a droll arti- 
 fice ; that the galleries in Europe would laugh at tliis, just 
 as the galleries in our theatres do, when any piece of suc- 
 cessful knavery is going on upon the stage, — when Filch 
 in the Beggar's Operd picks Mrs. Di's pocket. And, to 
 say the truth, he does not appear to have been in the wrong 
 in this expectation. Such is the deplorable baseness of 
 mankind, such the abject homage which men are wiUing to 
 pay to crimes attended with success, to wickedness united 
 with power, that none of the acts committed at any time by 
 the agents of the French government, seem at all to have 
 hurt their reception in the world, either collectively or 
 individually. Their oppressions and cruelties excite no 
 indignation ; their low and scandalous frauds no contempt; 
 their treacheries no distrust. In the case of the person 
 here in question, you would swear, that his perfidies be- 
 came him, and that, like one of Horace's mistrcsseS;^ the 
 more false and faithless he shewed himself, the greater 
 was his train of followers among the admiring and adoring 
 governments of Europe. 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 101 
 
 Tu, simul obHgasti 
 
 Perfidum votis caput, enitescis 
 Pulchrior multo, juvenumque prodis 
 Publica cura. 
 There is a perfect contest for the honour of being betrayed 
 by him. The examples of those unfortunate and confiding 
 jcountries, who have been already seduced and undone, 
 produce no caution, inspire no terror. 
 
 After the remark, made at the beginning of this 
 note, it will hardly be asked, of what use is it to notice 
 these facts ? It is of some use to know betimes, the cha- 
 racter of the person, who is in a fair way of becoming our 
 master, and who, in fact, is so already, as far as relates to 
 a perfect ascendancy over those who direct our counsels. 
 But it is of great use in another view, to point out to 
 notice, such parts of tlie history of the First Consul, 
 as those which we have been speaking of. It is of con- 
 sequence to know, who it is that particular persons admire. 
 If it be true, that a man is known by his company (noscitur 
 a socio) it is equally true, that some judgment may be 
 formed from those, whom he extols and looks up to» 
 What, it has been asked, must be the priest, where a 
 monkey is the god ? What must be the admirer, where 
 the object of admiration, is a person capable of such a 
 proceeding as the pretended conversion to Mahomedanism ? 
 It will be admitted, probably, that this is not to come 
 in, in the hfrokk part of the character. But I wish to 
 know, with respect to a large class of his admirers, — 
 the enthusiasts of Hberty, the assertors of rights, the re- 
 specters of the independence of nations, the abhorrers of 
 •War, the lovers of Peace and pacifick arts, the exploders 
 
 of 
 
 i, 
 
I , 
 
 \l 
 
 10!? 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 of military fame,— what in their estimation is the heroick 
 part, or what they would point out as the subject of their 
 paneg3Tick ? Is it possible, that tha/ can hold out to us, 
 as an object of admiration, tlic character of a man, whose 
 merit, whatever its amount may be, must in kind be that 
 of a soldier and a conqueror ; whose sole occupation iias 
 been War ; the foundation of ^v hose fame and power was 
 laid wholly upon military exploits ; who unites in himself, 
 all that these persons would profess to abhor in an Alex- 
 ander and a Caesar ; who has been at once the conqueror 
 of foreign nations, and the subverter of the liberties of 
 his own ? These things shew, beyond a doubt, what, for 
 the greater part, these eulogiums on the character of the 
 First Consul really are. — They are, either the base abject 
 homage paid by the generality of mankind to successful 
 crime ; or the insidious praises of men, who, under the 
 mask of liberty, patriotism, and respect for rights, are 
 seeking to gratify their own spleen or ambition, and pre* 
 paring the downfall of their country. Whatever credit 
 may be due to him for miUtary talents, and whatever cer- 
 tainly is due to him for decision, boldness, vigilance, ad- 
 dress, capacity for great though wicked enterprizes, it will 
 be difficult to account otherwise than is above done, for 
 the sort of praises which we liear, and the quarters from 
 which tliey come. 
 
 M. — Page 41. 
 
 The manner, in which people seem to have posed 
 themselves with this question, has been the ruin of the 
 country. They never seem to have got the length of dis- 
 
 covering. 
 
 A P P E N D I .^. 
 
 103 
 
 covering, that if France was bent upon their destruction, 
 they were and must be, in an eternal war, unless either 
 France should change her purpose, or they would submit 
 to be destroyed. With all their fears and complainings, 
 they have never been sensible to above half their dano-er. 
 They seem always to have supposed, that like the contests 
 in use among our common people, (till the wisdom of ma- 
 gistrates extinguished those remains of rustick chivalry,) 
 they could terminate this war at any time, by only de- 
 claring that they had had enough. 
 
 N.— Page 64. 
 
 See on this subject the important facts and excellent 
 reflexions contained in chap. 2. towards the end, and in 
 other parts of Professor Robison's valuable work, pub- 
 lished in 1797, and entitled " Proofs of a Conspiracy, &c." 
 
 O.— Page 70. 
 
 Though it was Francis I. who, after the battle of Pa- 
 via, originally expressed himself in this dignified manner, 
 the King of Prussia adopted and repeated the sentiment, 
 upon occasion of his memorable defeat at Schweidnitz. 
 See Ann. Reg. for the year 1761. 
 
 P.— Page 75. 
 
 The population of these provinces is bv no means 
 stated Avith exaggeration, when it is said * far to exceed 
 the population of the kingdom of Ireland.* It mi"ht be 
 described with truth, as < nearly, if not altogether, equal 
 to the population of Great Britain.* From Caen to Bour- 
 
 deaux, 
 
 bI 
 
 i 
 
K 
 
 104 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 1 1 
 
 deaux, without comprising more in breadth than belongs 
 properly to the royalist country, there is a population, 
 according to the statement of Mr. Necker, of httle less 
 than 9,000,000. In ascertaining the proportions of this 
 population which may be considered as royahst, we must 
 distinguish between those who were only royahsts in their 
 affections; those who actively, though secredy, favoured 
 the cause ; and those who, at diiferent times, openly ap- 
 peared in arms. By ,the numbers of the last of these 
 classes, by the manner in which they maintained them- 
 selves, and by the effects which they produced, we may 
 form, perhaps, the surest judgment, though possibly 
 a very inadequate one, of the general sentiments and dis- 
 positions of the country. If those, who have been most 
 Cfisaeed in these scenes, and have at least the best 
 means of knowing, may be relied on, it was a small por-» 
 tion of the inhabitants indeed, and those confined almost 
 exclusively to the towns, who were not royalists in their 
 hearts. But facts, and the inferences resulting from 
 them, may after all be considered as the best criterion, 
 especially to those who may not have the means of re- 
 sortinir to the testimonies which we have alluded to, or 
 of appreciating the degree of credit, that may be due to 
 them. Of these facts the principal lie open to the ob-< 
 seivation of every body, and are of a nature little liable' 
 to be mistaken or misrepresented. They arc — the length 
 of time during which the royalist war subsisted; the ar- 
 mies which it obliged the Republick to employ ; the na- 
 ture of the pacifications which took place in different 
 parts of it ; the anxiety which it evidently excited in the 
 government, during the whole of its contiiuuince ; tiie 
 iiiteriiiption which it gave to the communication between 
 the metropolis and the principal sea-ports — the transport of 
 goods and passengers, and letters between Paris and Brest 
 being sometimes stopt for a fortnight, requiring at times 
 
 aD 
 
 I 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 105 
 
 an immense escort, and being at all times attended with 
 considerable danger, insomuch that officers going to join 
 their ships often preferred a passage by sea, even at the 
 risk of being taken by our cruisers; — these are facts, 
 which rest on no authority of individuals, and may afford 
 ^ome measure for judging of the degree and extent, to 
 which the sentiment of royahsm prevailed in this part of 
 France. For facts of a description somewhat different, 
 though of a character and magnitude not to be much 
 concealed or disguised, such as the nature and progress 
 of the war ; the armies, which the royalists were able to 
 bring into the field ; the manner in Avhich they employed 
 them ; »he resources which they possessed ; the energy 
 which they displayed ; for these, or other similar ones, 
 the reader would do well to have recourse to an Account 
 (pubHshed here in 1796 and since translated) of Cam- 
 paigns in the Vendee, by the republican General Tur- 
 reau, the same, probably, who is now employed in 
 something of a similar service in Switzerland, and who, 
 though interested in some degree in magnifying tho force 
 of an enemy, whom he was employed to combat, and 
 requiring in that respect, as well as in several others, to 
 be read with some reserve and caution, may yet be relied 
 on for the general substance of his narrative, and the 
 principal representations which accompany it: and will 
 afford to diose, who may be new to the subject, much 
 valuable information on the history and circumstances of 
 this most extraordinary and affecting war. 
 
 Q.— Page 76. 
 
 In the earl}'^ stages of the war of la Vendee, before 
 the republicans had had recourse to the system of laying 
 
 O waste 
 
 i;i 
 
 .!■ 
 
>/',- 
 
 / '_^:H 
 
 .1 
 
 f . 
 
 106 
 
 A P P E N D I Xi 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 107 
 
 \^^aste and burning the country, and had brought the >var 
 to a footing, in which no quarter was given on either side, 
 Whatever prisoners were taken by the itiyalrsts, were 
 released upon the condition of not serving again, either 
 against them, or against the allied powers-^ the royalists 
 having imagined, for some reasoa or another, that the 
 aUies and they were engaged in a common cause, and that 
 the neglect which they might seem till then to have ex- 
 perienced, was owing Wholly to the precautions taken by 
 the enemy for preventing any communication with them. 
 When, therefore, they heard, in the year 1793, that the 
 garrisons of IVIentz and Valenciennes were marching 
 against them, knowing that these gan'isons had surrender- 
 ed upon terms, and that one of the terms was, that they 
 should not serve again till exchanged, they concluded 
 that this was a new instance of republican treachery, and 
 that these troops, a numerous and most formidable body, 
 the ganison of Mentz alone being reckoned at twelve 
 thousand, could not be employed in this service, without 
 some scandalous breach of engagement, such as would 
 excite in the breasts of the allies no less resentment, and 
 indignation, than it did in those of the royalists. What 
 then were their sensations, when they found, that this 
 \vas no treachery on the part of the republicans, but that 
 tlie allies themselves in framing their capitulations, and 
 providing that these garrisons should not serve against 
 the other parties in the war, had wholly forgotten, or 
 neglected to extend this provision to the case of 
 the royalists; who with an army of immense force 
 in point of numbers, perfect in the mode of its com- 
 position, animated by the most heroick courage, hciided 
 by officers of great ability and experience, but still v/eak 
 to a great degree by the extreme deficiency, and often 
 total want of ail the ordinary means of war, were left to 
 
 prosecute 
 
 Is- 
 
 W- 
 
 prosecute as well as they could, the desperate and unequal 
 contest in which they were engaged, disowned and aban- 
 doned by all the world. When they found this, their 
 feelings were indeed acute, and their constancy almo-^t 
 shaken. They did not despair : it was not their nature to 
 do so: but left thus to themselves, abandor^ed to their 
 own resources, without aid, without co-operati9n, pro- 
 claimed, as it were, to all Europe, as not even belonging to 
 that confederacy, of which they might have been excused 
 in hoping that they should have been placed at the head; 
 they felt that their prospects were truly gloomy, and such 
 as might well have excused them for relinquishing from 
 that instant everv thoun^ht of further resistance. That 
 they did not so relinquish their hopes ; that tliey long 
 maintained the contest with unabated vigour ; that the 
 war broke out afterwards with fresh violence; that it 
 never ceased to be renewed at ever}' favourable oppor- 
 tunity, till the last of the continental powers had sub* 
 initted and made its peace ; that the elenicntsi of it remain 
 entire to this day ; — these are truths, which ouglit to bo 
 known and remembered for the credit of those coaceruedi 
 though they yield but little consolation in the retrospect, 
 and can now unhajjpily aiford no ground of hope for the 
 future. 
 
 ii.— Page 80. 
 
 Those who may before have tliought, that such a 
 vindication was necessarv, will not be less of tliat opinion, 
 when they shall be told, that within the last twelve months, 
 more than three Iiuntlred royalist officers have been 
 taken and put to death, in the western provinces, and that 
 ot these all but forty or fifty have sutiei'ed since the date 
 of the preliminary treaty. In tiie name of all that is 
 sacred, what justification e;in a gjvernment or a country 
 
 O 2 o.Ter 
 
 II 
 
^ 
 
 lOS 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 offer for such conduct ? Three hundred men, or at least a 
 great proportion of them, sacrificed to the vengeance of 
 their enemies, simply because we neglected, or refused to 
 listen to their solicitations to be allowed an asylum in this 
 country, when in consequence of the peace which we were 
 makings, their service could be no lonj^er useful in their 
 own ! Do we mean to say, that these persons had no claim 
 upon us to the extent of what they asked ? Or that we could 
 not afford the expense of receiving, and providing for so 
 many additional emigrants? Monstrous as either of these 
 allegations would be, they would still be better than 
 what alone remains, — the direct and unqualified confes- 
 sion, that we did not dare to admit into this country men; 
 to whom we were bound by every tie to furnish a place 
 of refuge and safety, lest by so doing we should give 
 offence to our enemies. In what a state must the pro- 
 bity of a great country be, when, in a case like the pre- 
 sent, such a motive can be made a principle of action ? 
 to what must the mind of a country be reduced, when it 
 can bear, that such a motive should become manifest to 
 the world ? 
 
 It may not be thought a tricing aggravation, (if in 
 such a mass of shame aggravations were worth thinking 
 of,) that, just at this moment, a condemned, though par- 
 doned traitor, Napper Tandy, is released from prison, 
 and allowed to sail to France, yielded, we presume, as an 
 act of grateful attention, — a kind of marriage present, to 
 the first Consul. Napper Tandy, be it remembered, was 
 not a person to whom the faith of the French ggvernment 
 was pledged by any publick declaration, unless it sliall be 
 contended, as perhaps it ought, that their decree of the 
 19th of November 1792 still continues in force : he was 
 not a person engaged in one of those civil wars, of which 
 iistory may furnish examples, wherein the rights and pre- 
 tentions 
 
 
 f 
 
 A P P E K D I X. 
 
 109 
 
 tentions of the parties were so equally balanced, as to 
 make it doubtful, on which of the two sides the crime of 
 commencing hostilities and breaking up the public peace 
 ought in justice to be charged. He was a traitor in the com- 
 mon sense of the word, and upon the clearest evidence of 
 the thing, and was condemned according to the established 
 principles, on which the lives of such persons have be- 
 come forfeit at all times, and in all countries. The 
 first Consul however, as is supposed, thought fit to ask 
 his release : and the government here complied with his 
 request. Such was the state of the intercourse between 
 the two countries on the subject of persons of this descrip- 
 tion. But the royalists of France, persons who had been 
 acting in conformity to, perhaps in consequence of our 
 proclamations ; whose objects we had declared to be sub- 
 stantially our own ; of whose assistance we had a right 
 ttt avail ourselves, according to every principle of the la\^ 
 of nations; who are not to be confounded, as is often 
 wickedly or ignorantly done, with rebels and traitors, 
 the subverters of tlieir respective governments, but were 
 on the contrary the upholders of the constitution of their 
 country in opposition to sucli rebels and traitors ; to these 
 royahsts we refused an asylum, lest we should offend the 
 irritable majesty of an usurper, and indispose him to grant 
 such terms of peace, as those by which the safety of tho 
 country is now so happily secured. If these things do 
 not disgrace and dishonour a country, I am at a loss to 
 know, what the disgrace and dishonour of a country is. 
 We seek to conciliate the favour of an imperious and 
 vindictive enemy, by the desertion of our friends, and the 
 sacrifice of our national faith and honour. Our enemy, 
 we may rest' assured, will only despise us the more, 
 without our deriving from that feeling any relaxation of 
 the motives, which haye long led him to resolve on our 
 destruction. 
 
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