It is also just to the French Minister for Foreign Affairs, to allude (although it is rather out of place in this argument) to another circumstance, of which I yesterday received an explanation. A strong feeling has been excited in this country by the reported capture of a rich Spanish prize in the West Indies by a French ship of war. If the French captain had acted under orders, most unquestionably those orders must have been given at a time when the French Government was most warm in its professions of a desire to maintain peace. If this had been the case, it might still perhaps be doubtful whether this country ought to be the first to complain. Formal declarations of war, anterior to warlike acts, have been for some time growing into disuse in Europe. The war of 1756, and the Spanish war in 1804, both, it must be admitted, commenced with premature capture and anticipated hostilities on the part of Great Britain. But—be that as it may—I wrote to Sir C. Stuart, as soon as the intelligence reached this country, desiring him to require an explanation of the affair; the reply, as I have said, arrived yesterday by a telegraphic communication from Paris. It runs thus:—'Paris, April 28, 1823. We have not received anything official as to the prize made by the Jean Bart. This vessel had no instructions to make any such capture. If this capture has really been made, there must have been some particular circumstances which were the cause of it. In any case, the French Government will see justice done.' I have thought it right to clear up this transaction, and to show the promptitude of the French Government in giving the required explanation, I now return to the more immediate subject of discussion, and pass from France to Spain.
It has been maintained that it was an insult to the Spanish Government to ask them, as we did, for assurances of the safety of the Royal Family of Spain. Have I not already accounted for that suggestion? I have shown that one of the causes of war, prospectively agreed upon at Verona, was any act of personal violence to the King of Spain or his family. I endeavoured, therefore, to obtain such assurances from Spain as should remove the apprehension of any such outrage; not because the British Cabinet thought those assurances necessary, but because it might be of the greatest advantage to the cause of Spain, that we should be able to proclaim our conviction, that upon this point there was nothing to apprehend; that we should thus possess the means of proving to France that she had no case, arising out of the conferences of Verona, to justify a war. Such assurances Spain might have refused—she would have refused them—to France. To us she might, she did give them, without lowering her dignity.
And here I cannot help referring, with some pain, to a speech delivered by an honourable and learned friend of mine (Sir J. Mackintosh), last night, in which he dwelt upon this subject in a manner totally unlike himself. He pronounced a high-flown eulogy upon M. Arguelles; he envied him, he said, for many things, but he envied him most for the magnanimity which he had shown in sparing his Sovereign.
[Sir J. Mackintosh said that he had only used the word 'sparing', as sparing the delicacy, not the life of the King.]
I am glad to have occasioned this explanation. I have no doubt that my honourable and learned friend must have intended so to express himself, for I am sure that he must agree with me in thinking that nothing could be more pernicious than to familiarize the world with the contemplation of events so calamitous. I am sure that my honourable and learned friend would not be forward to anticipate for the people of Spain an outrage so alien to their character.
Great Britain asked these assurances, then, without offence; forasmuch as she asked them—not for herself—not because she entertained the slightest suspicion of the supposed danger, but because that danger constituted one of those hypothetical cases on which alone France could claim eventual support from the allies; and because she wished to be able to satisfy France that she was not likely to have such a justification.
In the same spirit, and with the like purpose, the British Cabinet proposed to Spain to do that, without which not only the disposition but perhaps the power was wanting on the part of the French Government, to recede from the menacing position which it had somewhat precipitately occupied.
And this brings me to the point on which the longest and fiercest battle has been fought against us—the suggestion to Spain of the expediency of modifying her Constitution. As to this point, I should be perfectly contented, Sir, to rest the justification of Ministers upon the argument stated the night before last by a noble young friend of mine (Lord Francis Leveson Gower), in a speech which, both from what it promised and what it performed, was heard with delight by the House. 'If Ministers', my noble friend observed, 'had refused to offer such suggestions, and if, being called to account for that refusal, they had rested their defence on the ground of delicacy to Spain, would they not have been taunted with something like these observations? "What! had you not among you a member of your Government, sitting at the same council board, a man whom you ought to have considered as an instrument furnished by Providence, at once to give efficacy to your advice, and to spare the delicacy of the Spanish nation? Why did you not employ the Duke of Wellington for this purpose? Did you forget the services which he had rendered to Spain, or did you imagine that Spain had forgotten them? Might not any advice, however unpalatable, have been offered by such a benefactor, without liability to offence or misconstruction? Why did you neglect so happy an opportunity, and leave unemployed so fit an agent? Oh! blind to the interests of the Spanish people! Oh! insensible to the feelings of human nature!"' Such an argument would have been unanswerable; and, however the intervention of Great Britain has failed, I would much rather have to defend myself against the charge of having tendered advice officiously, than against that of having stupidly neglected to employ the means which the possession of such a man as the Duke of Wellington put into the hands of the Government, for the salvation of a nation which he had already once rescued from destruction.
With respect to the memorandum of the noble duke, which has been so much the subject of cavil, it is the offspring of a manly mind, pouring out its honest opinions with an earnestness characteristic of sincerity, and with a zeal too warm to stand upon nice and scrupulous expression. I am sure that it contains nothing but what the noble duke really thought. I am sure that what he thought at the time of writing it, he would still maintain; and what he thinks and maintains regarding Spain, must, I should imagine, be received with respect and confidence by all who do not believe themselves to be better qualified to judge of Spain than he is. Whatever may be thought of the Duke of Wellington's suggestions here, confident I am that there is not an individual in Spain, to whom this paper was communicated, who took it as an offence, or who did not do full justice to the motives of the adviser, whatever they might think of the immediate practicability of his advice. Would to God that some part of it, at least, had been accepted! I admit the point of honour, I respect those who have acted upon it, I do not blame the Spaniards that they refused to make any sacrifice to temporary necessity; but still—still I lament the result of that refusal. Of this I am quite sure, that even if the Spaniards were justified in objecting to concede, it would have been a most romantic point of honour which should have induced Great Britain to abstain from recommending concession.
It is said that everything was required of Spain. and nothing of France. I utterly deny it. I have already described the relative situation of the two countries. I will repeat, though the term has been so much criticized, that they had no external point of difference. France said to Spain, 'Your revolution disquiets me:' and Spain replied to France, 'Your army of observation disquiets me.' There were but two remedies to this state of things—war or concession: and why was England fastidiously, and (as I think) most mistakenly, to say, 'Our notions of non-interference are so strict that we cannot advise you even for your safety: though whatever concession you may make may probably be met by corresponding concession on the part of France'? Undoubtedly the withdrawing of the army of observation would have been, if not purely, yet in a great degree, an internal measure on the part of France; and one which, though I will not assert it to be precisely equivalent with the alteration by Spain of any fault in her Constitution; yet, considering its immediate practical advantage to Spain, would not, I think, have been too dearly purchased by such an alteration. That France was called upon to make the corresponding concession, appears as well from the memorandum of the Duke of Wellington, as from the dispatches of Sir Charles Stuart, and from mine; and this concession was admitted by M. San Miguel to be the object which Spain most desired. England saw that war must be the inevitable consequence of the existing state of things between the two kingdoms; and, if something were yielded on the one side, it would undoubtedly have been for England to insist upon a countervailing sacrifice on the other.