The propriety of maintaining the army of observation depended wholly upon the truth of the allegations on which France justified its continuance. I do not at all mean to say that the truth of those allegations was to be taken for granted. But what I do mean to say is, that it was not the business of the British Government to go into a trial and examine evidence, to ascertain the foundation of the conflicting allegations on either side. It was clear that nothing but some modification of the Spanish Constitution could avert the calamity of war; and in applying the means in our hands to that object (an object interesting not to Spain only, but to England, and to Europe), it was not our business to take up the cause of either party, and to state it with the zeal and with the aggravations of an advocate; but rather to endeavour to reduce the demands of each within such limits as might afford a reasonable hope of mutual conciliation.
Grant, even, that the justice was wholly on the side of Spain; still, in entreating the Spanish Ministers, with a view to peace, to abate a little of their just pretensions, the British Government did not go beyond the duty which the law of nations prescribes. No, Sir, it was our duty to induce Spain to relax something of her positive right, for a purpose so essential to her own interests and to those of the world. Upon this point let me fortify myself once more, by reference to the acknowledged law of nations. 'The duty of a mediator', says Vattel, 'is to favour well-founded claims, and to effect the restoration to each party of what belongs to him; but he ought not scrupulously to insist on rigid justice. He is a conciliator, not a judge: his business is to procure peace: and he ought to induce him who has right on his side, to relax something of his pretensions, if necessary, with a view to so great a blessing.'
The conduct of the British Government is thus fortified by an authority, not interested, not partial, not special in its application, but universal, untinctured by favour, uninfluenced by the circumstances of any particular case, and applicable to the general concerns and dealings of mankind. Is it not plain, then, that we have been guilty of no violation of duty towards the weaker party? Our duty, Sir, was discharged not only without any unfriendly bias against Spain, but with tenderness, with preference, with partiality in her favour; and, while I respect (as I have already said) the honourable obstinacy of the Spanish character, so deeply am I impressed with the desirableness of peace for Spain, that, should the opportunity recur, I would again, without scruple, tender the same advice to her Government. The point of honour was in truth rather individual than national; but the safety put to hazard was assuredly that of the whole nation. Look at the state of Spain, and consider whether the filling up a blank in the scheme of her representative Constitution with an amount, more or less high, of qualification for the members of the Cortes—whether the promising to consider hereafter of some modifications in other questionable points—was too much to be conceded, if by such a sacrifice peace could have been preserved! If we had declined to interfere on such grounds of punctilio, would not the very passage which I have now read from Vattel, as our vindication, have been brought against us with justice as a charge?
I regret, deeply regret, for the sake of Spain, that our efforts failed. I must fairly add, that I regret it for the sake of France also. Convinced as I may be of the injustice of the course pursued by the French Government, I cannot shut my eyes to its impolicy. I cannot lose sight of the gallant character and mighty resources of the French nation, of the central situation of France, and of the weight which she ought to preserve in the scale of Europe; I cannot be insensible to the dangers to which she is exposing herself; nor omit to reflect what the consequences may be to that country—what the consequences to Europe—of the hazardous enterprise in which she is now engaged; and which, for aught that human prudence can foresee, may end in a dreadful revulsion. As mere matter of abstract right, morality, perhaps, ought to be contented when injury recoils upon an aggressor. But such a revulsion as I am speaking of would not affect France alone: it would touch the Continental States at many points; it would touch even Great Britain. France could not be convulsed without communicating danger to the very extremities of Europe. With this conviction, I confess I thought any sacrifice, short of national honour or national independence, cheap, to prevent the first breach in that pacific settlement, by which the miseries and agitations of the world have been so recently composed.
I apologize, Sir, for the length of time which I have consumed upon these points. The case is complicated: the transactions have been much misunderstood, and the opinions regarding them are various and discordant. The true understanding of the case, however, and the vindication of the conduct of Government, would be matters of comparatively light importance, if censure or approbation for the past were the only result in contemplation. But, considering that we are now only at the threshold, as it were, of the war, and that great events are pending, in which England may hereafter be called upon to take her part, it is of the utmost importance that no doubt should rest, upon the conduct and policy of this country.
One thing more there is, which I must not forget to notice with regard to the advice given to Spain. I have already mentioned the Duke of Wellington as the chosen instrument of that counsel: a Spaniard by adoption, by title, and by property, he had a right to offer the suggestions which he thought fit, to the Government of the country which had adopted him. But it has been complained that the British Government would have induced the Spaniards to break an oath: that, according to the oath taken by the Cortes, the Spanish institutions could be revised only at the expiration of eight years; and that, by calling upon the Cortes to revise them before that period was expired, we urged them to incur the guilt of perjury. Sir, this supposed restriction is assumed gratuitously.
There are two opinions upon it in Spain. One party calculates the eight years from the time which has elapsed since the first establishment of the Constitution; the other reckons only the time during which it has been in operation. The latter insist that the period has yet at least two years to run, because the Constitution has been in force only from 1812 to 1814, and from 1820 to the present time: those who calculate from the original establishment of it in 1812, argue of course that more than the eight years are already expired, and that the period of revision is fully come. I do not pretend to decide between these two constructions; but I assert that they are both Spanish constructions. A Spaniard, of no mean name and reputation,—one eminently friendly to the Constitution of 1812,—by whose advice Ministers were in this respect guided, gave it as his opinion, that not only consistently with their oath, but in exact fulfilment of it, the Spaniards might now reconsider and modify their Constitution—that they might have done so nearly three years ago. 'Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?' say the Cortes. The answer is,
'No; we do not ask you to lay perjury upon your souls; for as good a Spanish soul as is possessed by any of you declares, that you may now, in due conformity to your oaths, reconsider, and, where advisable, reform your Constitution.' Do we not know what constructions have been put in this country, on the coronation oath, as to its operation on what is called the Catholic Question? Will any man say that it has been my intention, or the intention of my honourable friend, the member for Bramber, every time that we have supported a motion for communicating to our Roman Catholic fellow subjects the full benefit of the Constitution, to lay perjury on the soul of the Sovereign?
Sir, I do not pretend to decide whether the number of legislative chambers in Spain should be one, or two, or three. In God's name, let them try what experiment in political science they will, provided we are not affected by the trial. All that Great Britain has done on this occasion has been, not to disturb the course of political experiment, but to endeavour to avert the calamity of war. Good God! when it is remembered how many evils are compressed into that little word 'war', is it possible for any man to hesitate in urging every expedient that could avert it, without sacrificing the honour of the party to which his advice was tendered? Most earnestly do I wish that the Duke of Wellington had succeeded: but great is the consolation that, according to the best accounts from Spain, his counsels have not been misunderstood there, however they have been misrepresented here. I believe that I might with truth go further, and say, that there are those in Spain who now repent the rigid course pursued, and who are beginning to ask each other why they held out so pertinaciously against suggestions at once so harmless and so reasonable. My wish was, that Spain should be saved; that she should be saved before the extremity of evil had come upon her, even by the making of those concessions which, in the heat of national pride, she refused. Under any circumstances, however, I have still another consolation—the consolation of knowing, that never, from the commencement of these negotiations, has Spain been allowed by the British Government to lie under the delusion that her refusal of all modifications would induce England to join her in the war.
The very earliest communication made to Spain forbade her to entertain any such reliance. She was told at the beginning, as she was told in the end, that neutrality was our determined policy. From the first to the last, there was never the slightest variation in this language—never a pause during which she could be for one moment in doubt as to the settled purpose of England.