Selected Speeches on British Foreign Policy 1738-1914

by Unknown

France, on the contrary, was never assured of the neutrality of England, till my dispatch of the 31st of March (the last of the first series of printed papers) was communicated to the French Ministry at Paris. The speech of the King of France, on the opening of the Chambers (I have no difficulty in saying), excited not only strong feelings of disapprobation, by the principles which it avowed, but serious apprehensions for the future, from the designs which it appeared to disclose. I have no difficulty in saying that the speech delivered from the British throne at the commencement of the present session did, as originally drawn, contain an avowal of our intention to preserve neutrality; but, upon the arrival of the King of France's speech, the paragraph containing that avowal was withdrawn. Nay, I have no difficulty in adding that I plainly told the French Chargé d'Affaires that such an intimation had been intended, but that it was withdrawn in consequence of the speech of the King, his master. Was this truckling to France?

It was not, however, on account of Spain that the pledge of neutrality was withdrawn: it was withdrawn upon principles of general policy on the part of this country. It was withdrawn, because there was that in the King of France's speech which appeared to carry the two countries (France and England) back to their position in older times, when France, as regarded the affairs of Spain, had been the successful rival of England. Under such, circumstances, it behoved the English Ministers to be upon their guard. We were upon our guard. Could we prove our caution more than by withholding that assurance, which would at once have set France at ease? We did withhold that assurance. But it was one thing to withhold the declaration of neutrality, and another to vary the purpose.

Spain, then, I repeat, has never been misled by the British Government. But I fear, nevertheless, that a notion was in some way or other created at Madrid, that if Spain would but hold out resolutely, the Government of England would be forced, by the popular voice in this country, to take part in her favour. I infer no blame against any one; but I do firmly believe that such a notion was propagated in Spain, and that it had great share in producing the peremptory refusal of any modification of the Constitution of 1812. Regretting, as I do, the failure of our endeavours to adjust those disputes, which now threaten so much evil to the world, I am free at least from the self-reproach of having contributed to that delusion in the mind of the Spanish Government or nation, as to the eventual decision of England, which, if it existed in such a degree as to produce reliance upon our co-operation, must have added to the other calamities of her present situation, the bitterness of disappointment. This disappointment, Sir, was from the beginning, certain, inevitable: for the mistake of those who excited the hopes of Spain was not only as to the conduct of the British Government, but as to the sentiments of the British nation. No man, whatever his personal opinion or feeling may be, will pretend that the opinion of the country is not decidedly against war. No man will deny that, if Ministers had plunged the country into a war for the sake of Spain, they would have come before Parliament with a heavier weight of responsibility than had ever lain upon the shoulders of any Government. I impute not to those who may thus have misled the Spanish Ministry, the intention either of thwarting (though such was the effect) the policy of their own Government, or of aggravating (though such must be the consequence) the difficulties of Spain. But for myself I declare, that even the responsibility of plunging this country into an unnecessary war, would have weighed less heavily upon my conscience, than that, which I thank God I have not incurred, of instigating Spain to the war, by exciting hopes of assistance which I had not the means of realizing.

I have thus far, Sir, taken the liberty of assuming that the late negotiations were properly directed to the preservation of peace; and have argued the merits of the negotiations, on that assumption. I am aware, that it is still to be established, that peace, under all the circumstances of the times, was the proper course for this country.

I address myself now to that branch of the subject.

I believe I may venture to take it as universally admitted, that any question of war involves not only a question of right, not only a question of justice, but also a question of expediency. I take it to be admitted on all hands, that before any Government determines to go to war, it ought to be convinced not only that it has just cause of war, but that there is something which renders war its duty: a duty compounded of two considerations—the first, what the country may owe to others; the second, what she owes to herself. I do not know whether any gentleman on the other side of the House has thought it worth while to examine and weigh these considerations, but Ministers had to weigh them well before they took their resolution. Ministers did weigh them well; wisely, I hope; I am sure, conscientiously and deliberately: and, if they came to the decision that peace was the policy prescribed to them, that decision was founded on a reference, first, to the situation of Spain; secondly, to the situation of France; thirdly, to the situation of Portugal; fourthly, to the situation of the Alliance; fifthly, to the peculiar situation of England: and lastly, to the general state of the world. And first, Sir, as to Spain.

The only gentleman by whom (as it seems to me) this part of the question has been fairly and boldly met, is the honourable member for Westminster (Mr. Hobhouse), who, in his speech of yesterday evening (a speech which, however extravagant, as I may perhaps think, in its tone, was perfectly intelligible and straightforward), not only declared himself openly for war, but, aware that one of the chief sinews of war is money, did no less than offer a subsidy to assist in carrying it on. He declared that his constituents were ready to contribute all their means to invigorate the hands of Government in the war; but he annexed, to be sure, the trifling condition, that the war was to be a war of people against kings. Now this, which, it must be owned, was no unimportant qualification of the honourable member's offer of assistance, is also one to which, I confess, I am not quite prepared to accede. I do not immediately remember any case in which such a principle of war has been professed by any Government, except in the decree of the National Convention of the year 1793, which laid the foundation of the war between this country and France—the decree which offered assistance to all nations who would shake off the tyranny of their rulers.

Even the honourable member for Westminster, therefore, is after all but conditionally in favour of war: and, even in that conditional pledge, he has been supported by so few members that I cannot help suspecting that if I were to proceed on the faith of his encouragement, I should find myself left with the honourable gentleman, pretty nearly in the situation of King James with his bishops. King James, we all remember, asked Bishop Neale if he might not take his subjects' money without the authority of Parliament? To which Bishop Neale replied, 'God forbid, Sire, but you should; you are the breath of our nostrils.' The King then turned to Bishop Andrews, and repeated the same question; when Bishop Andrews answered, 'Sire, I think it is lawful for your Majesty to take my brother Neale's money, for he offers it,' Now, if I were to appeal to the House, on the hint of the honourable gentleman, I should, indeed, on his own terms, have an undoubted right to the money of the honourable gentleman; but if the question were put, for instance, to the honourable member for Surrey (Mr. Holme Sumner), his answer would probably be, 'You may take my brother of Westminster's money, as he says his constituents have authorized him to offer it; but my constituents have certainly given me no such authority.'

But however single, or however conditional,—the voice of the honourable member for Westminster is still for war; and he does me the honour to tempt me to take the same course, by reminding me of a passage in my political life to which I shall ever look back with pride and satisfaction. I allude to that period when the bold spirit of Spain burst forth indignant against the oppression of Buonaparte. Then unworthily filling the same office which I have the honour to hold at the present moment, I discharged the glorious duty (if a portion of glory may attach to the humble instrument of a glorious cause) of recognizing without delay the rights of the Spanish nation, and of at once adopting that gallant people into the closest amity with England. It was indeed a stirring, a kindling occasion: and no man who has a heart in his bosom can think even now of the noble enthusiasm, the animated exertions, the undaunted courage, the unconquerable perseverance of the Spanish nation, in a cause apparently so desperate, finally so triumphant, without feeling his blood glow and his pulses quicken with tumultuous throbs of admiration. But I must remind the honourable gentleman of three circumstances, calculated to qualify a little the feelings of enthusiasm, and to suggest lessons of caution: I must remind him first of the state of this country—secondly, of that of Spain—at that period, as compared with the present; and thirdly, of the manner in which the enterprise in behalf of Spain was viewed by certain parties in this country. We are now at peace. In 1808, we were already at war—we were at war with Buonaparte, the invader of Spain. In 1808 we were, as now, the allies of Portugal, bound by treaty to defend her from aggression; but Portugal was at that time not only menaced by the power of France, but overrun by it; her Royal Family was actually driven into exile, and their kingdom occupied by the French. Bound by treaty to protect Portugal, how natural was it, under such circumstances, to extend our assistance to Spain! Again: Spain was at that time, comparatively speaking, an united nation. I do not mean to say that there were no differences of opinion; I do not mean to deny that some few among the higher classes had been corrupted by the gold of France: but still the great bulk of the people were united in one cause; their loyalty to their Sovereign had survived his abdication; and though absent and a prisoner, the name of Ferdinand VII was the rallying-point of the nation. But let the House look at the situation in which England would be placed should she, at the present moment, march her armies to the aid of Spain. As against France alone, her task might not be more difficult than before; but is it only with France that she would now have to contend? England could not strike in the cause of Spain against the invading foe alone. Fighting in Spanish ranks, should we not have to point our bayonets against Spanish bosoms? But this is not the whole of the difference between the present moment and the year 1808. In 1808 we had a large army prepared for foreign service a whole war establishment ready appointed: and the simple question was, in what quarter we could best apply its force against the common enemy of England, of Spain, of Portugal,—of Europe. This country had no hopes of peace: our abstinence from the Spanish war could in no way have accelerated the return of that blessing; and the Peninsula presented, plainly and obviously, the theatre of exertion in which we could contend with most advantage. Compare, then, I say, that period with the present; in which, none of the inducements, or incitements, which I have described as belonging to the opportunity of 1808, can be found.

But is the absence of inducement and incitement all? Is there no positive discouragement in the recollections of that time, to check too hasty a concurrence in the warlike views of the honourable member for Westminster? When England, in 1808, under all the circumstances which I have enumerated, did not hesitate to throw upon the banks of the Tagus, and to plunge into all the difficulties of the Peninsular War, an army destined to emerge in triumph through the Pyrenees, was that course hailed with sympathy and exultation by all parties in the State? Were there no warnings against danger? no chastisements for extravagance? no doubts—no complaints—no charges of rashness and impolicy? I have heard of persons, Sir,—persons of high authority too—who, in the very midst of the general exaltation of spirit throughout this country, declared that, 'in order to warrant England in embarking in a military co-operation with Spain, something more was necessary than to show that the Spanish cause was just.' 'It was not enough,' said these enlightened monitors, 'it was not enough that the attack of France upon the Spanish nation was unprincipled, perfidious, and cruel—that the resistance of Spain was dictated by every principle, and sanctioned by every motive, honourable to human nature—that it made every English heart burn with a holy zeal to lend its assistance against the oppressor: there were other considerations of a less brilliant and enthusiastic, but not less necessary and commanding nature, which should have preceded the determination of putting to hazard the most valuable interests of the country. It is not with nations as with individuals. Those heroic virtues which shed a lustre upon individual man must, in their application to the conduct of nations, be chastened by reflections of a more cautious and calculating cast. That generous magnanimity and high-minded disinterestedness, proud distinctions of national virtue (and happy were the people whom they characterize), which, when exercised at the risk of every personal interest, in the prospect of every danger, and at the sacrifice even of life itself, justly immortalize the hero, cannot and ought not to be considered justifiable motives of political action, because nations cannot afford to be chivalrous and romantic.' History is philosophy teaching by example; and the words of the wise are treasured for ages that are to come. 'The age of chivalry', said Mr. Burke, 'is gone; and an age of economists and calculators has succeeded.' That an age of economists and calculators is come, we have indeed every night's experience. But what would be the surprise, and at the same time the gratification, of the mighty spirit of Burke, at finding his splendid lamentation so happily disproved!—at seeing that chivalrous spirit, the total extinction of which he deplored, revive, qua minime veris, on the very benches of the economists and calculators themselves! But in truth, Sir, it revives at a most inconvenient opportunity. It would be as ill-advised to follow a chivalrous impulse now, as it would in 1808 have been inexcusable to disobey it. Under the circumstances of 1808, I would again act as I then acted. But though inapplicable to the period to which it was applied, I confess I think the caution which I have just quoted does apply, with considerable force, to the present moment.