On the day after Bonaparte was inaugurated as First Consul
of France, December 25, 1799, he addressed a personal letter
to the King of England, asking for peace. The English Government,
however, entertained a keen resentment at what
they regarded the evasive and insulting conduct of the French
Directory during the last negotiations. Accordingly, the reply
of Lord Grenville, then Minister of Foreign Affairs, rejected
the proposed opening of negotiations for peace. The Government
justified its attitude by referring to the course of the
French during the war. It declared that its beginning had
been an “unprovoked attack” on the part of the French, that
the “system” which inspired the war “continued to prevail,”
that England could present “no defence but that of open and
steady hostility” to the system, that “the best and most
natural pledge of the reality and permanence of peace” had
been rejected by the French, that although the English “did
not claim to prescribe to France what shall be her form of
government” yet they desired security for future peace, and
that “unhappily no such security hitherto exists, no sufficient
evidence of the principles by which the new government will
be directed, no reasonable ground by which to judge of its
stability.” To this letter Talleyrand wrote a spirited reply;
and Lord Grenville closed the correspondence with a reaffirmation
of his Government’s former position.
The correspondence was called for, and was placed before
the Commons on the 3d of February, 1800. Mr. Dundas immediately
proposed an Address to the Throne approving of
the course taken by the ministry. This opened the whole subject
of the attitude of England toward Napoleon for debate.
Whitbred, Canning, and Erskine complained in strong terms
of the discourteous language used by Lord Grenville. Pitt
made no defence on this point, but took up the subject on the
broadest scale. He reviewed not only the origin of the war,
but also the atrocities of the French in overrunning a large
part of Europe, the instability of the successive French governments,
his own motives in treating with the French on a
former occasion, and the character of Bonaparte as a military
commander. The speech is at once the most important and
the most elaborate ever delivered by Pitt. It expressed and
defined the policy of the nation in the great struggle which as
yet had only begun. As a parliamentary oration, designed at
once to inform and inspire, it has probably never been surpassed.
SIR,—I am induced, at this period of the debate,
to offer my sentiments to the House, both
from an apprehension that at a later hour the
attention of the House must necessarily be exhausted,
and because the sentiment with which
the honorable and learned gentleman [Mr.
Erskine] began his speech, and with which he
has thought proper to conclude it, places the
question precisely on that ground on which I
am most desirous of discussing it. The learned
gentleman seems to assume as the foundation
of his reasoning, and as the great argument for
immediate treaty, that every effort to overturn
the system of the French Revolution must be
unavailing; and that it would be not only imprudent,
but almost impious, to struggle longer
against that order of things which, on I know
not what principle of predestination, he appears
to consider as immortal. Little as I am inclined
to accede to this opinion, I am not sorry that
the honorable gentleman has contemplated the
subject in this serious view. I do, indeed, consider
the French Revolution as the severest
trial which the visitation of Providence has ever
yet inflicted upon the nations of the earth; but
I cannot help reflecting, with satisfaction, that
this country, even under such a trial, has not
only been exempted from those calamities which
have covered almost every other part of Europe,
but appears to have been reserved as a refuge
and asylum to those who fled from its persecution,
as a barrier to oppose its progress, and
perhaps ultimately as an instrument to deliver
the world from the crimes and miseries which
have attended it.
Under this impression, I trust the House will
forgive me, if I endeavor, as far as I am able, to
take a large and comprehensive view of this important
question. In doing so, I agree with my
honorable friend [Mr. Canning] that it would,
in any case, be impossible to separate the
present discussion from the former crimes and
atrocities of the French Revolution; because
both the papers now on the table, and the whole
of the learned gentleman’s argument, force
upon our consideration the origin of the war,
and all the material facts which have occurred
during its continuance. The learned gentleman
[Mr. Erskine] has revived and retailed all those
arguments from his own pamphlet, which had
before passed through thirty-seven or thirty-eight
editions in print, and now gives them to
the House embellished by the graces of his
personal delivery. The First Consul has also
thought fit to revive and retail the chief arguments
used by all the opposition speakers and
all the opposition publishers in this country
during the last seven years. And (what is still
more material) the question itself, which is now
immediately at issue—the question whether,
under the present circumstances, there is such
a prospect of security from any treaty with
France as ought to induce us to negotiate, can
not be properly decided upon without retracing,
both from our own experience and from that
of other nations, the nature, the causes, and the
magnitude of the danger against which we have
to guard, in order to judge of the security which
we ought to accept.
I say, then, that before any man can concur
in opinion with that learned gentleman; before
any man can think that the substance of his
Majesty’s answer is any other than the safety of
the country required; before any man can be
of opinion that, to the overtures made by the
enemy, at such a time and under such circumstances,
it would have been safe to return an
answer concurring in the negotiation—he must
come within one of the three following descriptions:
He must either believe that the French
Revolution neither does now exhibit nor has at
any time exhibited such circumstances of
danger, arising out of the very nature of the
system, and the internal state and condition of
France, as to leave to foreign powers no adequate
ground of security in negotiation; or, secondly,
he must be of opinion that the change
which has recently taken place has given that
security which, in the former stages of the Revolution,
was wanting; or, thirdly, he must be
one who, believing that the danger exists, not
undervaluing its extent nor mistaking its nature,
nevertheless thinks, from his view of the present
pressure on the country, from his view of
its situation and its prospects, compared with
the situation and prospects of its enemies, that
we are, with our eyes open, bound to accept of
inadequate security for every thing that is valuable
and sacred, rather than endure the pressure,
or incur the risk which would result from a farther
prolongation of the contest.1
In discussing the last of these questions, we
shall be led to consider what inference is to be
drawn from the circumstances and the result of
our own negotiations in former periods of the
war; whether, in the comparative state of this
country and France, we now see the same
reason for repeating our then unsuccessful experiments;
or whether we have not thence
derived the lessons of experience, added to the
deductions of reason, marking the inefficacy
and danger of the very measures which are
quoted to us as precedents for our adoption.
Unwilling, sir, as I am to go into much detail
on ground which has been so often trodden
before; yet, when I find the learned gentleman,
after all the information which he must have
received, if he has read any of the answers to
his work (however ignorant he might be when
he wrote it), still giving the sanction of his
authority to the supposition that the order to
M. Chauvelin [French minister] to depart from
this kingdom was the cause of the war between
this country and France, I do feel it necessary
to say a few words on that part of the subject.
Inaccuracy in dates seems to be a sort of
fatality common to all who have written on
that side of the question; for even the writer
of the note to his Majesty is not more correct,
in this respect, than if he had taken his information
only from the pamphlet of the learned
gentleman. The House will recollect the first
professions of the French Republic, which are
enumerated, and enumerated truly, in that note.
They are tests of every thing which would best
recommend a government to the esteem and
confidence of foreign powers, and the reverse
of every thing which has been the system and
practice of France now for near ten years. It
is there stated that their first principles were
love of peace, aversion to conquest, and respect
for the independence of other countries. In
the same note it seems, indeed, admitted that
they since have violated all those principles;
but it is alleged that they have done so only in
consequence of the provocation of other powers.
One of the first of those provocations is stated
to have consisted in the various outrages offered
to their ministers, of which the example is said
to have been set by the King of Great Britain
in his conduct to M. Chauvelin. In answer to
this supposition, it is only necessary to remark,
that before the example was given, before
Austria and Prussia are supposed to have been
thus encouraged to combine in a plan for the
partition of France, that plan, if it ever existed
at all, had existed and been acted upon for
above eight months. France and Prussia had
been at war eight months before the dismissal
of M. Chauvelin. So much for the accuracy of
the statement.
I have been hitherto commenting on the
arguments contained in the Notes. I come
now to those of the learned gentleman. I
understand him to say that the dismissal of M.
Chauvelin was the real cause, I do not say of
the general war, but of the rupture between
France and England; and the learned gentleman
states particularly that this dismissal rendered
all discussion of the points in dispute
impossible. Now I desire to meet distinctly
every part of this assertion. I maintain, on the
contrary, that an opportunity was given for
discussing every matter in dispute between
France and Great Britain as fully as if a regular
and accredited French minister had been resident
here; that the causes of war which existed
at the beginning, or arose during the course of
this discussion, were such as would have justified,
twenty times over, a declaration of war on
the part of this country; that all the explanations
on the part of France were evidently
unsatisfactory and inadmissible, and that M.
Chauvelin had given in a peremptory ultimatum,
declaring that if these explanations were not
received as sufficient, and if we did not immediately
disarm, our refusal would be considered
as a declaration of war. After this followed
that scene which no man can even now speak
of without horror, or think of without indignation;
that murder and regicide from which I
was sorry to hear the learned gentleman date
the beginning of the legal government of
France.
Having thus given in their ultimatum, they
added, as a further demand (while we were
smarting under accumulated injuries, for which
all satisfaction was denied) that we should instantly
receive M. Chauvelin as their embassador,
with new credentials, representing them in
the character which they had just derived from
the murder of their sovereign. We replied,
“he came here as the representative of a sovereign
whom you have put to a cruel and illegal
death; we have no satisfaction for the injuries
we have received, no security from the danger
with which we are threatened. Under these
circumstances we will not receive your new credentials.
The former credentials you have
yourself recalled by the sacrifice of your King.”
What, from that moment, was the situation
of M. Chauvelin? He was reduced to the situation
of a private individual, and was required
to quit the kingdom under the provisions of
the Alien Act, which, for the purpose of securing
domestic tranquillity, had recently invested
his Majesty with the power of removing out of
this kingdom all foreigners suspected of revolutionary
principles. Is it contended that he was
then less liable to the provisions of that act
than any other individual foreigner, whose conduct
afforded to government just ground of objection
or suspicion? Did his conduct and
connections here afford no such ground? or will
it be pretended that the bare act of refusing to
receive fresh credentials from an infant republic,
not then acknowledged by any one power
of Europe, and in the very act of heaping upon
us injuries and insults, was of itself a cause of
war? So far from it, that even the very nations
of Europe whose wisdom and moderation have
been repeatedly extolled for maintaining neutrality,
and preserving friendship with the
French Republic, remained for years subsequent
to this period without receiving from it any accredited
minister, or doing any one act to
acknowledge its political existence.
In answer to a representation from the belligerent
powers, in December, 1793, Count Bernstorff,
the minister of Denmark, officially declared
that “it was well known that the National
Convention had appointed M. Grouville
Minister Plenipotentiary at Denmark, but that
it was also well known that he had neither been
received nor acknowledged in that quality.”
And as late as February, 1796, when the same
minister was at length, for the first time, received
in his official capacity, Count Bernstorff,
in a public note, assigned this reason for that
change of conduct: “So long as no other than
a revolutionary government existed in France,
his Majesty could not acknowledge the minister
of that government; but now that the French
Constitution is completely organized, and a
regular government established in France, his
Majesty’s obligation ceases in that respect, and
M. Grouville will therefore be acknowledged in
the usual form.” How far the Court of Denmark
was justified in the opinion that a revolutionary
government then no longer existed in
France it is not now necessary to inquire; but
whatever may have been the fact in that respect,
the principle on which they acted is clear
and intelligible, and is a decisive instance in
favor of the proposition which I have maintained.
Is it, then, necessary to examine what were
the terms of that ultimatum with which we refused
to comply? Acts of hostility had been
openly threatened against our allies; a hostility
founded upon the assumption of a right which
would at once supersede the whole law of nations.
The pretended right to open the Scheldt
we discussed at the time, not so much on account
of its immediate importance (though it
was important both in a maritime and commercial
view) as on account of the general principle
on which it was founded.2 On the same arbitrary
notion they soon afterward discovered
that sacred law of nature which made the Rhine
and the Alps the legitimate boundaries of
France, and assumed the power, which they
have affected to exercise through the whole of
the Revolution, of superseding, by a new code
of their own, all the recognized principles of
the law of nations. They were, in fact, actually
advancing toward the republic of Holland, by
rapid strides, after the victory of Jemappes and
they had ordered their generals to pursue the
Austrian troops into any neutral country, thereby
explicitly avowing an intention of invading
Holland. They had already shown their moderation
and self-denial by incorporating Belgium
with the French Republic. These lovers of
peace, who set out with a sworn aversion to
conquest, and professions of respect for the independence
of other nations; who pretend that
they departed from this system only in consequence
of your aggression, themselves, in time
of peace, while you were still confessedly neutral,
without the pretence or shadow of provocation,
wrested Savoy from the King of Sardinia,
and had proceeded to incorporate it likewise
with France.3 These were their aggressions at
this period, and more than these. They had
issued a universal declaration of war against all
the thrones of Europe, and they had, by their
conduct, applied it particularly and specifically
to you. They had passed the decree of the 19th
of November, 1792, proclaiming the promise of
French succor to all nations who should manifest
a wish to become free; they had, by all
their language as well as their example, shown
what they understood to be freedom; they had
sealed their principles by the deposition of their
sovereign; they had applied them to England
by inviting and encouraging the addresses of
those seditious and traitorous societies, who,
from the beginning, favored their views, and
who, encouraged by your forbearance, were
even then publicly avowing French doctrines,
and anticipating their success in this country—who
were hailing the progress of those proceedings
in France which led to the murder of its
king; they were even then looking to the day
when they should behold a National Convention
in England formed upon similar principles.4
And what were the explanations they offered
on these different grounds of offence? As to
Holland: they told you the Scheldt was too
insignificant for you to trouble yourselves about,
and therefore it was to be decided as they chose,
in breach of positive treaty, which they had
themselves guaranteed, and which we, by our
alliance, were bound to support. If, however,
after the war was over, Belgium should have
consolidated its liberty (a term of which we
now know the meaning, from the fate of every
nation into which the arms of France have penetrated)
then Belgium and Holland might, if
they pleased, settle the question of the Scheldt
by separate negotiation between themselves.
With respect to aggrandizement, they assured
us that they would retain possession of Belgium
by arms no longer than they should find it
necessary to the purpose already stated, of consolidating
its liberty. And with respect to the
decree of the 19th of November, 1792, applied
as it was pointedly to you, by all the intercourse
I have stated with all the seditious and traitorous
part of this country, and particularly by
the speeches of every leading man among them,
they contented themselves with asserting that
the declaration conveyed no such meaning as
was imputed to it, and that, so far from encouraging
sedition, it could apply only to countries
where a great majority of the people should
have already declared itself in favor of a revolution:
a supposition which, as they asserted,
necessarily implied a total absence of all sedition.
What would have been the effect of admitting
this explanation? to suffer a nation, and
an armed nation, to preach to the inhabitants
of all the countries in the world that they themselves
were slaves and their rulers tyrants; to
encourage and invite them to revolution by a
previous promise of French support to whatever
might call itself a majority, or to whatever
France might declare to be so. This was their
explanation; and this, they told you, was their
ultimatum.
But was this all? Even at that very moment,
when they were endeavoring to induce
you to admit these explanations, to be contented
with the avowal that France offered
herself as a general guaranty for every successful
revolution, and would interfere only to
sanction and confirm whatever the free and uninfluenced
choice of the people might have decided,
what were their orders to their generals
on the same subject? In the midst of these
amicable explanations with you came forth a
decree which I really believe must be effaced
from the minds of gentlemen opposite to me, if
they can prevail upon themselves for a moment
to hint even a doubt upon the origin of this
quarrel, not only as to this country, but as to
all the nations of Europe with whom France
has been subsequently engaged in hostility. I
speak of the decree of the 15th of December,
1792. This decree, more even than all the
previous transactions, amounted to a universal
declaration of war against all thrones, and
against all civilized governments. It said,
wherever the armies of France shall come
(whether within countries then at war or at
peace is not distinguished) in all those countries
it shall be the first care of their generals to
introduce the principles and the practice of the
French Revolution; to demolish all privileged
orders, and every thing which obstructs the
establishment of their new system.5
If any doubt is entertained whither the armies
of France were intended to come; if it is contended
that they referred only to those nations
with whom they were then at war, or with
whom, in the course of this contest, they might
be driven into war; let it be remembered that
at this very moment they had actually given
orders to their generals to pursue the Austrian
army from the Netherlands into Holland, with
whom they were at that time in peace. Or,
even if the construction contended for is admitted,
let us see what would have been its application,
let us look at the list of their aggressions,
which was read by my right honorable
friend [Mr. Dundas] near me. With whom
have they been at war since the period of this
declaration? With all the nations of Europe
save two (Sweden and Denmark), and if not
with these two, it is only because, with every
provocation that could justify defensive war,
those countries have hitherto acquiesced in repeated
violations of their rights rather than
recur to war for their vindication. Wherever
their arms have been carried it will be a matter
of short subsequent inquiry to trace whether
they have faithfully applied these principles.
If in terms this decree is a denunciation of war
against all governments; if in practice it has
been applied against every one with which
France has come into contact; what is it but
the deliberate code of the French Revolution,
from the birth of the Republic, which has never
once been departed from, which has been enforced
with unremitted rigor against all the nations
that have come into their power?
If there could otherwise be any doubt
whether the application of this decree was
intended to be universal, whether it applied
to all nations, and to England particularly;
there is one circumstance which alone would
be decisive—that nearly at the same period it
was proposed [by M. Baraillon], in the National
Convention, to declare expressly that the decree
of November 19th was confined to the nations
with whom they were then at war; and that
proposal was rejected by a great majority, by
that very Convention from whom we were desired
to receive these explanations as satisfactory.
Such, sir, was the nature of the system. Let
us examine a little farther, whether it was from
the beginning intended to be acted upon in the
extent which I have stated. At the very moment
when their threats appeared to many little
else than the ravings of madmen, they were digesting
and methodizing the means of execution,
as accurately as if they had actually foreseen
the extent to which they have since been
able to realize their criminal projects. They
sat down coolly to devise the most regular and
effectual mode of making the application of
this system the current business of the day,
and incorporating it with the general orders of
their army; for (will the House believe it!) this
confirmation of the decree of November 19th
was accompanied by an exposition and commentary
addressed to the general of every
army of France, containing a schedule as coolly
conceived, and as methodically reduced, as any
by which the most quiet business of a justice of
peace, or the most regular routine of any department
of state in this country could be conducted.
Each commander was furnished with
one general blank formula of a letter for all the
nations of the world! The people of France to
the people of ——, Greeting, “We are come
to expel your tyrants.” Even this was not all;
one of the articles of the decree of the fifteenth
of December was expressly, “that those who
should show themselves so brutish and so enamored
of their chains as to refuse the restoration
of their rights, to renounce liberty and
equality, or to preserve, recall, or treat with
their prince or privileged orders, were not entitled
to the distinction which France, in other
cases, had justly established between government
and people; and that such a people
ought to be treated according to the rigor of
war, and of conquest.” Here is their love of
peace; here is their aversion to conquest; here
is their respect for the independence of other
nations!
It was then, after receiving such explanations
as these, after receiving the ultimatum of
France, and after M. Chauvelin’s credentials
had ceased, that he was required to depart.
Even at that period, I am almost ashamed to
record it, we did not on our part shut the door
against other attempts to negotiate, but this
transaction was immediately followed by the
declaration of war, proceeding not from England
in vindication of her rights, but from
France, as the completion of the injuries and
insults they had offered. And on a war thus
originating, can it be doubted by an English
House of Commons whether the aggression
was on the part of this country or of France?
or whether the manifest aggression on the part
of France was the result of any thing but the
principles which characterize the French Revolution?6
* * *
I will enlarge no farther on the origin of the
war. I have read and detailed to you a system
which was in itself a declaration of war against
all nations, which was so intended, and which
has been so applied, which has been exemplified
in the extreme peril and hazard of almost all
who for a moment have trusted to treaty, and
which has not at this hour overwhelmed Europe
in one indiscriminate mass of ruin, only
because we have not indulged, to a fatal extremity,
that disposition which we have, however,
indulged too far; because we have not
consented to trust to profession and compromise,
rather than to our own valor and exertion, for
security against a system from which we never
shall be delivered till either the principle is
extinguished, or till its strength is exhausted.
I might, sir, if I found it necessary, enter into
much detail upon this part of the subject; but
at present I only beg leave to express my
readiness at any time to enter upon it, when
either my own strength or the patience of the
House will admit of it; but I say, without distinction,
against every nation in Europe, and
against some out of Europe, the principle has
been faithfully applied. You cannot look at
the map of Europe, and lay your hand upon
that country against which France has not
either declared an open and aggressive war,
or violated some positive treaty, or broken
some recognized principle of the law of nations.
This subject may be divided into various periods.
There were some acts of hostility committed
previous to the war with this country,
and very little, indeed, subsequent to that declaration,
which abjured the love of conquest.
The attack upon the papal state, by the seizure
of Avignon, in 1791, was accompanied with
specimens of all the vile arts and perfidy that
ever disgraced a revolution. Avignon was separated
from its lawful sovereign, with whom not
even the pretence of quarrel existed, and forcibly
incorporated in the tyranny of one and indivisible
France.7 The same system led, in the
same year, to an aggression against the whole
German Empire, by the seizure of Porentrui,
part of the dominions of the Bishop of Basle.
Afterward, in 1792, unpreceded by any declaration
of war, or any cause of hostility,8 and in
direct violation of the solemn pledge to abstain
from conquest, they made war against the King
of Sardinia, by the seizure of Savoy, for the
purpose of incorporating it, in like manner,
with France. In the same year, they had proceeded
to the declaration of war against Austria,
against Prussia, and against the German Empire,
in which they have been justified only on the
ground of a rooted hostility, combination, and
league of sovereigns, for the dismemberment of
France. I say that some of the documents
brought to support this pretence are spurious
and false. I say that even in those that are
not so, there is not one word to prove the
charge principally relied upon, that of an intention
to effect the dismemberment of France,
or to impose upon it, by force, any particular
constitution. I say that, as far as we have been
able to trace what passed at Pilnitz, the declaration
there signed referred to the imprisonment
of Louis XVI.; its immediate view was to
effect his deliverance, if a concert sufficiently
extensive could be formed with other sovereigns
for that purpose. It left the internal state of
France to be decided by the king restored to
his liberty, with the free consent of the states
of his kingdom, and it did not contain one
word relative to the dismemberment of France.9
In the subsequent discussions, which took
place in 1792, and which embraced at the same
time all the other points of jealousy which had
arisen between the two countries, the Declaration
of Pilnitz was referred to, and explained on
the part of Austria in a manner precisely conformable
to what I have now stated. The
amicable explanations which took place, both
on this subject and on all the matters in dispute,
will be found in the official correspondence between
the two courts which has been made public;
and it will be found, also, that as long as
the negotiation continued to be conducted
through M. Delessart, then Minister for Foreign
Affairs, there was a great prospect that those
discussions would be amicably terminated; but
it is notorious, and has since been clearly proved
on the authority of Brissot himself, that the violent
party in France considered such an issue of
the negotiation as likely to be fatal to their
projects, and thought, to use his own words,
that “war was necessary to consolidate the
Revolution.” For the express purpose of producing
the war, they excited a popular tumult
in Paris; they insisted upon and obtained the
dismissal of M. Delessart. A new minister was
appointed in his room, the tone of the negotiation
was immediately changed, and an ultimatum
was sent to the Emperor, similar to that
which was afterward sent to this country, affording
him no satisfaction on his just grounds of
complaint, and requiring him, under those circumstances,
to disarm. The first events of the
contest proved how much more France was prepared
for war than Austria, and afford a strong
confirmation of the proposition which I maintain,
that no offensive intention was entertained
on the part of the latter power.
War was then declared against Austria, a war
which I state to be a war of aggression on the
part of France. The King of Prussia had
declared that he should consider war against
the Emperor or empire as war against himself.
He had declared that, as a coestate of the empire,
he was determined to defend their rights;
that, as an ally of the Emperor, he would support
him to the utmost against any attack; and
that, for the sake of his own dominions, he felt
himself called upon to resist the progress of
French principles, and to maintain the balance
of power in Europe. With this notice before
them, France declared war upon the Emperor,
and the war with Prussia was the necessary consequence
of this aggression, both against the
Emperor and the empire.
The war against the King of Sardinia follows
next. The declaration of that war was the
seizure of Savoy by an invading army—and on
what ground? On that which has been stated
already. They had found out, by some light of
nature, that the Rhine and the Alps were the
natural limits of France. Upon that ground
Savoy was seized; and Savoy was also incorporated
with France.
Here finishes the history of the wars in which
France was engaged antecedent to the war with
Great Britain, with Holland, and with Spain.
With respect to Spain, we have seen nothing
which leads us to suspect that either attachment
to religion, or the ties of consanguinity,
or regard to the ancient system of Europe,
was likely to induce that court to connect itself
in offensive war against France. The war was
evidently and incontestably begun by France
against Spain.
The case of Holland is so fresh in every
man’s recollection, and so connected with the
immediate causes of the war with this country,
that it cannot require one word of observation.
What shall I say, then, on the case of Portugal?
I cannot, indeed, say that France ever
declared war against that country. I can hardly
say even that she ever made war, but she required
them to make a treaty of peace, as if
they had been at war; she obliged them to purchase
that treaty; she broke it as soon as it was
purchased; and she had originally no other
ground of complaint than this, that Portugal
had performed, though inadequately, the engagements
of its ancient defensive alliance with
this country in the character of an auxiliary—a
conduct which cannot of itself make any power
a principal in a war.
I have now enumerated all the nations at war
at that period, with the exception only of Naples.
It can hardly be necessary to call to the recollection
of the House the characteristic feature
of revolutionary principles which was shown,
even at this early period, in the personal insult
offered to the King of Naples, by the commander
of a French squadron riding uncontrolled
in the Mediterranean, and (while our
fleets were yet unarmed) threatening destruction
to all the coast of Italy.
It was not till a considerably later period
that almost all the other nations of Europe
found themselves equally involved in actual hostility;
but it is not a little material to the whole
of my argument, compared with the statement
of the learned gentleman, and with that contained
in the French note, to examine at what
period this hostility extended itself. It extended
itself, in the course of 1796, to the
States of Italy which had hitherto been exempted
from it. In 1797 it had ended in the
destruction of most of them; it had ended in
the virtual deposition of the King of Sardinia;
it had ended in the conversion of Genoa and
Tuscany into democratic republics; it had
ended in the revolution of Venice, in the violation
of treaties with the new Venetian Republic;
and, finally, in transferring that very republic,
the creature and vassal of France, to
the dominion of Austria. * * *
Let these facts and these dates be compared
with what we have heard. The honorable gentleman
has told us, and the author of the note
from France has told us also, that all the French
conquests were produced by the operations of
the allies. It was, when they were pressed on
all sides, when their own territory was in danger,
when their own independence was in question,
when the confederacy appeared too strong,
it was then they used the means with which
their power and their courage furnished them,
and, “attacked upon all sides, they carried
everywhere their defensive arms.”10 * * *
Let us look at the conduct of France immediately
subsequent to this period. She had
spurned at the offers of Great Britain; she had
reduced her continental enemies to the necessity
of accepting a precarious peace; she had
(in spite of those pledges repeatedly made and
uniformly violated) surrounded herself by new
conquests on every part of her frontier but one.
That one was Switzerland. The first effect of
being relieved from the war with Austria, of
being secured against all fears of continental
invasion on the ancient territory of France,
was their unprovoked attack against this unoffending
and devoted country. This was one
of the scenes which satisfied even those who
were the most incredulous that France had
thrown off the mask, “if indeed she had ever
worn it.” It collected, in one view, many of
the characteristic features of that revolutionary
system which I have endeavored to trace—the
perfidy which alone rendered their arms successful—the
pretexts of which they availed
themselves to produce division and prepare the
entrance of Jacobinism in that country—the
proposal of armistice, one of the known and
regular engines of the Revolution, which was,
as usual, the immediate prelude to military execution,
attended with cruelty and barbarity,
of which there are few examples. All these
are known to the world. The country they attacked
was one which had long been the faithful
ally of France, which, instead of giving cause
of jealousy to any other power, had been for
ages proverbial for the simplicity and innocence
of its manners, and which had acquired and
preserved the esteem of all the nations of Europe;
which had almost, by the common consent
of mankind, been exempted from the
sound of war, and marked out as a land of
Goshen, safe and untouched in the midst of surrounding
calamities.
Look, then, at the fate of Switzerland, at the
circumstances which led to its destruction.
Add this instance to the catalogue of aggression
against all Europe, and then tell me
whether the system I have described has not
been prosecuted with an unrelenting spirit,
which can not be subdued in adversity, which
cannot be appeased in prosperity, which neither
solemn professions, nor the general law of nations,
nor the obligation of treaties (whether
previous to the Revolution or subsequent to
it) could restrain from the subversion of every
state into which, either by force or fraud, their
arms could penetrate. Then tell me, whether
the disasters of Europe are to be charged upon
the provocation of this country and its allies,
or on the inherent principle of the French Revolution,
of which the natural result produced
so much misery and carnage in France, and
carried desolation and terror over so large a
portion of the world.
Sir, much as I have now stated, I have not
finished the catalogue. America, almost as
much as Switzerland, perhaps, contributed to
that change which has taken place in the minds
of those who were originally partial to the
principles of the French Government. The
hostility against America followed a long course
of neutrality adhered to under the strongest
provocations, or rather of repeated compliances
to France, with which we might well have been
dissatisfied. It was on the face of it unjust
and wanton; and it was accompanied by those
instances of sordid corruption which shocked
and disgusted even the enthusiastic admirers of
revolutionary purity, and threw a new light on
the genius of revolutionary government.11
After this, it remains only shortly to remind
gentlemen of the aggression against Egypt,
not omitting, however, to notice the capture of
Malta in the way to Egypt. Inconsiderable as
that island may be thought, compared with the
scenes we have witnessed, let it be remembered
that it is an island of which the government
had long been recognized by every state of
Europe, against which France pretended no
cause of war, and whose independence was as
dear to itself and as sacred as that of any country
in Europe. It was in fact not unimportant,
from its local situation to the other powers of
Europe; but in proportion as any man may
diminish its importance, the instance will only
serve the more to illustrate and confirm the
proposition which I have maintained. The all-searching
eye of the French Revolution looks
to every part of Europe, and every quarter of
the world, in which can be found an object
either of acquisition or plunder. Nothing is
too great for the temerity of its ambition, nothing
too small or insignificant for the grasp of
its rapacity. From hence Bonaparte and his
army proceeded to Egypt. The attack was
made, pretences were held out to the natives of
that country in the name of the French King,
whom they had murdered. They pretended to
have the approbation of the Grand Seignior,
whose territories they were violating; their
project was carried on under the profession of
a zeal for Mohammedanism; it was carried on
by proclaiming that France had been reconciled
to the Mussulman faith, had abjured that of
Christianity, or, as he in his impious language
termed it, of the sect of the Messiah.12
The only plea which they have since held out
to color this atrocious invasion of a neutral and
friendly territory, is that it was the road to attack
the English power in India. It is most
unquestionably true that this was one and a
principal cause of this unparalleled outrage;
but another, and an equally substantial, cause
(as appears by their own statements) was the
division and partition of the territories of what
they thought a falling power. It is impossible
to dismiss this subject without observing that
this attack against Egypt was accompanied by
an attack upon the British possessions in India,
made on true revolutionary principles. In
Europe the propagation of the principles of
France had uniformly prepared the way for the
progress of its arms. To India the lovers of
peace had sent the messengers of Jacobinism,
for the purpose of inculcating war in those distant
regions on Jacobin principles, and of forming
Jacobin clubs, which they actually succeeded
in establishing; and which in most respects
resembled the European model, but which
were distinguished by this peculiarity, that they
were required to swear in one breath hatred to
tyranny, the love of liberty, and the destruction
of all kings and sovereigns, except the good
and faithful ally of the French Republic, Citizen
Tippoo!13
What, then, was the nature of this system?
Was it any thing but what I have stated it
to be? an insatiable love of aggrandizement,
an implacable spirit of destruction against all
the civil and religious institutions of every
country. This is the first moving and acting
spirit of the French Revolution; this is the spirit
which animated it at its birth, and this is the
spirit which will not desert it till the moment
of its dissolution, “which grew with its growth,
which strengthened with its strength,” but
which has not abated under its misfortunes, nor
declined in its decay. It has been invariably
the same in every period, operating more or less,
according as accident or circumstances might
assist it; but it has been inherent in the Revolution
in all its stages; it has equally belonged
to Brissot, to Robespierre, to Tallien, to Reubel,
to Barras, and to every one of the leaders
of the Directory, but to none more than to
Bonaparte, in whom now all their powers are
united. What are its characters? Can it be
accident that produced them? No, it is only
from the alliance of the most horrid principles,
with the most horrid means, that such miseries
could have been brought upon Europe. It is
this paradox which we must always keep in
mind when we are discussing any question relative
to the effects of the French Revolution.
Groaning under every degree of misery, the victim
of its own crimes, and as I once before expressed
in this House, asking pardon of God
and of man for the miseries which it has brought
upon itself and others, France still retains (while
it has neither left means of comfort nor almost
of subsistence to its own inhabitants) new and
unexampled means of annoyance and destruction
against all the other powers of Europe.
Its first fundamental principle was to bribe
the poor against the rich by proposing to transfer
into new hands, on the delusive notion of
equality, and in breach of every principle of
justice, the whole property of the country.
The practical application of this principle was
to devote the whole of that property to indiscriminate
plunder, and to make it the foundation
of a revolutionary system of finance, productive
in proportion to the misery and desolation
which it created. It has been accompanied
by an unwearied spirit of proselytism, diffusing
itself over all the nations of the earth; a spirit
which can apply itself to all circumstances and
all situations, which can furnish a list of grievances
and hold out a promise of redress equally
to all nations; which inspired the teachers of
French liberty with the hope of alike recommending
themselves to those who live under
the feudal code of the German Empire; to the
various states of Italy, under all their different
institutions; to the old republicans of Holland,
and to the new republicans of America; to the
Catholic of Ireland, whom it was to deliver
from Protestant usurpation; to the Protestant
of Switzerland, whom it was to deliver from
Popish superstition; and to the Mussulman of
Egypt, whom it was to deliver from Christian
persecution; to the remote Indian, blindly bigoted
to his ancient institutions; and to the
natives of Great Britain, enjoying the perfection
of practical freedom, and justly attached to
their Constitution, from the joint result of
habit, of reason, and of experience. The last
and distinguishing feature is a perfidy which
nothing can bind, which no tie of treaty, no
sense of the principles generally received among
nations, no obligation, human or divine, can
restrain. Thus qualified, thus armed for destruction,
the genius of the French Revolution
marched forth, the terror and dismay of the
world. Every nation has in its turn been the
witness, many have been the victims of its principles;
and it is left for us to decide whether
we will compromise with such a danger, while
we have yet resources to supply the sinews of
war, while the heart and spirit of the country is
yet unbroken, and while we have the means of
calling forth and supporting a powerful co-operation
in Europe.
Much more might be said on this part of the
subject; but if what I have said already is a
faithful, though only an imperfect, sketch of
those excesses and outrages which even history
itself will hereafter be unable fully to represent
and record, and a just representation of the
principle and source from which they originated,
will any man say that we ought to accept
a precarious security against so tremendous a
danger? Much more—will he pretend, after
the experience of all that has passed in the different
stages of the French Revolution, that we
ought to be deterred from probing this great
question to the bottom, and from examining,
without ceremony or disguise, whether the
change which has recently taken place in
France is sufficient now to give security, not
against a common danger, but against such a
danger as that which I have described?
In examining this part of the subject, let
it be remembered that there is one other characteristic
of the French Revolution as striking
as its dreadful and destructive principles: I
mean the instability of its government, which
has been of itself sufficient to destroy all reliance,
if any such reliance could at any time
have been placed on the good faith of any of its
rulers. Such has been the incredible rapidity
with which the revolutions in France have succeeded
each other, that I believe the names of
those who have successively exercised absolute
power, under the pretence of liberty, are to be
numbered by the years of the Revolution, and
by each of the new Constitutions, which, under
the same pretence, has in its turn been imposed
by force on France, all of which alike were
founded upon principles which professed to be
universal, and were intended to be established
and perpetuated among all the nations of the
earth. Each of these will be found, upon an
average, to have had about two years as the
period of its duration.
Under this revolutionary system, accompanied
with this perpetual fluctuation and
change, both in the form of the government
and in the persons of the rulers, what is the
security which has hitherto existed, and what
new security is now offered? Before an answer
is given to this question, let me sum up
the history of all the revolutionary governments
of France, and of their characters in relation to
other powers, in words more emphatical than
any which I could use—the memorable words
pronounced, on the eve of this last Constitution,
by the orator who was selected to report to
an Assembly, surrounded by a file of grenadiers,
the new form of liberty which it was destined
to enjoy under the auspices of General Bonaparte.
From this reporter, the mouth and
organ of the new government, we learn this
important lesson:
“It is easy to conceive why peace was not concluded
before the establishment of the constitutional
government. The only government which
then existed described itself as revolutionary; it
was, in fact, only the tyranny of a few men who
were soon overthrown by others, and it consequently
presented no stability of principles or
of views, no security either with respect to men
or with respect to things.
“It should seem that that stability and that
security ought to have existed from the establishment,
and as the effect of the constitutional
system; and yet they did not exist more, perhaps
even less, than they had done before. In
truth, we did make some partial treaties; we
signed a continental peace, and a general congress
was held to confirm it; but these treaties,
these diplomatic conferences, appear to have
been the source of a new war, more inveterate
and more bloody than before.
“Before the 18th Fructidor (4th September)
of the fifth year, the French Government exhibited
to foreign nations so uncertain an existence
that they refused to treat with it. After this
great event, the whole power was absorbed in
the Directory; the legislative body can hardly
be said to have existed; treaties of peace were
broken, and war carried everywhere, without
that body having any share in those measures.
The same Directory, after having intimidated
all Europe, and destroyed, at its pleasure, several
governments, neither knowing how to make
peace or war, or how even to establish itself,
was overturned by a breath, on the 13th Prairial
(18th June), to make room for other men, influenced
perhaps by different views, or who might
be governed by different principles.
“Judging, then, only from notorious facts, the
French Government must be considered as exhibiting
nothing fixed, neither in respect to men
nor to things.”
Here, then, is the picture, down to the period
of the last revolution, of the state of France
under all its successive governments!
Having taken a view of what it was, let us
now examine what it is. In the first place, we
see, as has been truly stated, a change in the
description and form of the sovereign authority.
A supreme power is placed at the head of
this nominal republic, with a more open avowal
of military despotism than at any former period;
with a more open and undisguised abandonment
of the names and pretences under which that
despotism long attempted to conceal itself.
The different institutions, republican in their
form and appearance, which were before the instruments
of that despotism, are now annihilated;
they have given way to the absolute
power of one man, concentrating in himself all
the authority of the state, and differing from
other monarchs only in this, that (as my honorable
friend [Mr. Canning] truly stated it) he
wields a sword instead of a sceptre. What,
then, is the confidence we are to derive either
from the frame of the government, or from the
character and past conduct of the person who is
now the absolute ruler of France?
Had we seen a man of whom we had no previous
knowledge suddenly invested with the
sovereign authority of the country; invested
with the power of taxation, with the power of
the sword, the power of war and peace, the unlimited
power of commanding the resources, of
disposing of the lives and fortunes, of every
man in France; if we had seen at the same moment
all the inferior machinery of the Revolution,
which, under the variety of successive
shocks, had kept the system in motion, still
remaining entire,—all that, by requisition and
plunder, had given activity to the revolutionary
system of finance, and had furnished the means
of creating an army, by converting every man
who was of age to bear arms into a soldier, not
for the defence of his own country, but for the
sake of carrying the war into the country of
the enemy; if we had seen all the subordinate
instruments of Jacobin power subsisting in their
full force, and retaining (to use the French
phrase) all their original organization; and had
then observed this single change in the conduct
of their affairs, that there was now one
man, with no rival to thwart his measures, no
colleague to divide his powers, no council to
control his operations, no liberty of speaking or
writing, no expression of public opinion to
check or influence his conduct; under such circumstances,
should we be wrong to pause, or
wait for the evidence of facts and experience,
before we consented to trust our safety to the
forbearance of a single man, in such a situation,
and to relinquish those means of defence which
have hitherto carried us safe through all the
storms of the Revolution, if we were to ask
what are the principles and character of this
stranger, to whom fortune has suddenly committed
the concerns of a great and powerful
nation?
But is this the actual state of the present
question? Are we talking of a stranger of
whom we have heard nothing? No, sir, we
have heard of him; we, and Europe, and the
world, have heard both of him and of the satellites
by whom he is surrounded, and it is impossible
to discuss fairly the propriety of any
answer which could be returned to his overtures
of negotiation without taking into consideration
the inferences to be drawn from his personal
character and conduct. I know it is the fashion
with some gentlemen to represent any reference
to topics of this nature as invidious and irritating;
but the truth is, that they rise unavoidably
out of the very nature of the question.
Would it have been possible for ministers to
discharge their duty, in offering their advice to
their sovereign, either for accepting or declining
negotiation, without taking into their
account the reliance to be placed on the disposition
and the principles of the person on whose
disposition and principles the security to be
obtained by treaty must, in the present circumstances,
principally depend? Or would they
act honestly or candidly toward Parliament and
toward the country if, having been guided by
these considerations, they forbore to state,
publicly and distinctly, the real grounds which
have influenced their decision; and if, from a
false delicacy and groundless timidity, they
purposely declined an examination of a point,
the most essential toward enabling Parliament
to form a just determination on so important a
subject?
What opinion, then, are we led to form of the
pretensions of the Consul to those particular
qualities for which, in the official note, his
personal character is represented to us as the
surest pledge of peace? We are told this is
his second attempt at general pacification.
Let us see, for a moment, how his attempt has
been conducted. There is, indeed, as the
learned gentleman has said, a word in the first
declaration which refers to general peace, and
which states this to be the second time in
which the Consul has endeavored to accomplish
that object. We thought fit, for the reasons
which have been assigned, to decline altogether
the proposal of treating, under the present circumstances,
but we, at the same time, expressly
stated that, whenever the moment for treaty
should arrive, we would in no case treat but in
conjunction with our allies. Our general refusal
to negotiate at the present moment does
not prevent the Consul from renewing his overtures;
but are they renewed for the purpose of
general pacification? Though he had hinted
at general peace in the terms of his first note;
though we had shown by our answer that we
deemed negotiation, even for general peace, at
this moment inadmissible; though we added
that, even at any future period, we would treat
only in conjunction with our allies, what was
the proposal contained in his last note? To
treat for a separate peace between Great Britain
and France.
Such was the second attempt to effect general
pacification—a proposal for a separate treaty
with Great Britain. What had been the first?
The conclusion of a separate treaty with Austria;
and there are two anecdotes connected
with the conclusion of this treaty, which are
sufficient to illustrate the disposition of this
pacificator of Europe. This very treaty of
Campo Formio was ostentatiously professed to
be concluded with the Emperor for the purpose
of enabling Bonaparte to take the command
of the army of England, and to dictate
a separate peace with this country on the banks
of the Thames. But there is this additional
circumstance, singular beyond all conception,
considering that we are now referred to the
treaty of Campo Formio as a proof of the personal
disposition of the Consul to general peace.
He sent his two confidential and chosen friends,
Berthier and Monge, charged to communicate
to the Directory this treaty of Campo Formio;
to announce to them that one enemy was
humbled, that the war with Austria was terminated,
and, therefore, that now was the moment
to prosecute their operations against this country;
they used on this occasion the memorable
words: “The kingdom of Great Britain and the
French Republic can not exist together.”14 This,
I say, was the solemn declaration of the deputies
and embassadors of Bonaparte himself,
offering to the Directory the first-fruits of this
first attempt at general pacification.
So much for his disposition toward general
pacification. Let us look next at the part he
has taken in the different stages of the French
Revolution, and let us then judge whether we
are to look to him as the security against revolutionary
principles. Let us determine what
reliance we can place on his engagements with
other countries, when we see how he has observed
his engagements to his own. When the
Constitution of the third year was established
under Barras, that Constitution was imposed by
the arms of Bonaparte, then commanding the
army of the triumvirate in Paris. To that
Constitution he then swore fidelity. How
often he has repeated the same oath, I know
not, but twice, at least, we know that he has
not only repeated it himself, but tendered it to
others, under circumstances too striking not to
be stated.
Sir, the House cannot have forgotten the
Revolution of the 4th of September, which
produced the dismissal of Lord Malmesbury
from Lisle. How was that revolution procured?
It was procured chiefly by the promise of
Bonaparte, in the name of his army, decidedly
to support the Directory in those measures
which led to the infringement and violation of
every thing that the authors of the Constitution
of 1795, or its adherents, could consider as fundamental,
and which established a system of
despotism inferior only to that now realized in
his own person. Immediately before this event,
in the midst of the desolation and bloodshed of
Italy he had received the sacred present of new
banners from the Directory; he delivered
them to his army with this exhortation: “Let
us swear, fellow-soldiers, by the names of the
patriots who have died by our side, eternal
hatred to the enemies of the Constitution of
the third year,”—that very Constitution which
he soon after enabled the Directory to violate,
and which at the head of his grenadiers he
has now finally destroyed. Sir, that oath was
again renewed, in the midst of that very scene
to which I have last referred; the oath of
fidelity to the Constitution of the third year
was administered to all the members of the
Assembly then sitting, under the terror of the
bayonet, as the solemn preparation for the business
of the day; and the morning was ushered
in with swearing attachment to the Constitution,
that the evening might close with its destruction.
If we carry our views out of France, and look
at the dreadful catalogue of all the breaches of
treaty, all the acts of perfidy at which I have
only glanced, and which are precisely commensurate
with the number of treaties which the
Republic has made (for I have sought in vain
for any one which it has made and which it has
not broken); if we trace the history of them all
from the beginning of the Revolution to the
present time, or if we select those which have
been accompanied by the most atrocious cruelty,
and marked the most strongly with the
characteristic features of the Revolution, the
name of Bonaparte will be found allied to more
of them than that of any other that can be
handed down in the history of the crimes and
miseries of the last ten years. His name will
be recorded with the horrors committed in
Italy, in the memorable campaign of 1796 and
1797, in the Milanese, in Genoa, in Modena, in
Tuscany, in Rome, and in Venice.
His entrance into Lombardy was announced
by a solemn proclamation, issued on the 27th
of April, 1796, which terminated with these
words: “Nations of Italy! the French Army
is come to break your chains; the French are
the friends of the people in every country;
your religion, your property, your customs shall
be respected.” This was followed by a second
proclamation, dated from Milan, 20th of May,
and signed “Bonaparte,” in these terms: “Respect
for property and personal security;
respect for the religion of countries—these
are the sentiments of the government of the
French Republic and of the army of Italy.
The French, victorious, consider the nations of
Lombardy as their brothers.” In testimony of
this fraternity, and to fulfil the solemn pledge
of respecting property, this very proclamation
imposed on the Milanese a provisional contribution
to the amount of twenty millions of
livres, or near one million sterling, and successive
exactions were afterward levied on that
single state to the amount, in the whole, of
near six millions sterling. The regard to religion
and to the customs of the country was
manifested with the same scrupulous fidelity.
The churches were given up to indiscriminate
plunder. Every religious and charitable fund,
every public treasure, was confiscated. The
country was made the scene of every species of
disorder and rapine. The priests, the established
form of worship, all the objects of religious
reverence, were openly insulted by the
French troops; at Pavia, particularly, the tomb
of St. Augustin, which the inhabitants were accustomed
to view with peculiar veneration, was
mutilated and defaced; this last provocation
having roused the resentment of the people
they flew to arms, surrounded the French garrison
and took them prisoners, but carefully
abstained from offering any violence to a single
soldier. In revenge for this conduct, Bonaparte,
then on his march to the Mincio, suddenly
returned, collected his troops, and carried the
extremity of military execution over the country.
He burned the town of Benasco, and
massacred eight hundred of its inhabitants; he
marched to Pavia, took it by storm, and delivered
it over to general plunder, and published,
at the same moment, a proclamation of
the 26th of May, ordering his troops to shoot
all those who had not laid down their arms and
taken an oath of obedience, and to burn every
village where the tocsin should be sounded,
and to put its inhabitants to death.
The transactions with Modena were on a
smaller scale, but in the same character. Bonaparte
began by signing a treaty, by which the
Duke of Modena was to pay twelve millions of
livres, and neutrality was promised him in return;
this was soon followed by the personal
arrest of the Duke, and by a fresh extortion of
two hundred thousand sequins. After this he
was permitted, on the payment of a farther sum,
to sign another treaty, called a convention de
sureté, which of course was only the prelude to
the repetition of similar exactions.
Nearly at the same period, in violation of the
rights of neutrality and of the treaty which had
been concluded between the French Republic
and the Grand Duke of Tuscany in the preceding
year, and in breach of a positive promise
given only a few days before, the French army
forcibly took possession of Leghorn, for the
purpose of seizing the British property which
was deposited there and confiscating it as a
prize; and shortly after, when Bonaparte agreed
to evacuate Leghorn, in return for the evacuation
of the island of Elba, which was in possession
of the British troops, he insisted upon a
separate article, by which, in addition to the
plunder before obtained, by the infraction of
the law of nations, it was stipulated that the
Grand Duke should pay the expense which
the French had incurred by this invasion of his
territory.
In the proceedings toward Genoa we shall
find not only a continuance of the same system
of extortion and plunder, in violation of the
solemn pledge contained in the proclamations
already referred to, but a striking instance of
the revolutionary means employed for the destruction
of independent governments. A
French minister was at that time resident at
Genoa, which was acknowledged by France to
be in a state of neutrality and friendship; in
breach of this neutrality Bonaparte began, in
the year 1796, with the demand of a loan. He
afterward, from the month of September, required
and enforced the payment of a monthly
subsidy, to the amount which he thought
proper to stipulate. These exactions were accompanied
by repeated assurances and protestations
of friendship; they were followed, in
May, 1797, by a conspiracy against the government,
fomented by the emissaries of the French
embassy, and conducted by the partisans of
France, encouraged and afterward protected
by the French minister. The conspirators
failed in their first attempt. Overpowered by
the courage and voluntary exertions of the inhabitants,
their force was dispersed, and many
of their number were arrested. Bonaparte instantly
considered the defeat of the conspirators
as an act of aggression against the French Republic;
he despatched an aid-de-camp with an
order to the Senate of this independent State;
first, to release all the French who were detained;
secondly, to punish those who had arrested
them; thirdly, to declare that they had
no share in the insurrection; and fourthly, to
disarm the people. Several French prisoners
were immediately released, and a proclamation
was preparing to disarm the inhabitants, when,
by a second note, Bonaparte required the arrest
of the three inquisitors of state, and immediate
alterations in the Constitution. He accompanied
this with an order to the French minister
to quit Genoa, if his commands were not
immediately carried into execution; at the same
moment his troops entered the territory of the
Republic; and shortly after, the councils, intimidated
and overpowered, abdicated their functions.
Three deputies were then sent to Bonaparte
to receive from him a new Constitution.
On the 6th of June, after the conferences at
Montebello, he signed a convention, or rather
issued a decree, by which he fixed the new
form of their government; he himself named
provisionally all the members who were to
compose it, and he required the payment of
seven millions of livres as the price of the subversion
of their Constitution and their independence.
These transactions require but one
short comment. It is to be found in the official
account given of them at Paris; which is in
these memorable words: “General Bonaparte
has pursued the only line of conduct which
could be allowed in the representative of a nation
which has supported the war only to procure
the solemn acknowledgment of the right
of nations to change the form of their government.
He contributed nothing toward the
revolution of Genoa, but he seized the first moment
to acknowledge the new government, as
soon as he saw that it was the result of the
wishes of the people.”
It is unnecessary to dwell on the wanton attacks
against Rome, under the direction of
Bonaparte himself, in the year 1796, and in the
beginning of 1797, which terminated first by
the treaty of Tolentino concluded by Bonaparte,
in which, by enormous sacrifices, the
Pope was allowed to purchase the acknowledgment
of his authority as a sovereign prince;
and secondly, by the violation of that very
treaty, and the subversion of the papal authority
by Joseph Bonaparte, the brother and the
agent of the general, and the minister of the
French Republic to the Holy See. A transaction
accompanied by outrages and insults
toward the pious and venerable Pontiff, in spite
of the sanctity of his age and the unsullied
purity of his character, which even to a Protestant
seem hardly short of the guilt of sacrilege.
But of all the disgusting and tragical scenes
which took place in Italy in the course of the
period I am describing, those which passed at
Venice are perhaps the most striking and the
most characteristic. In May, 1796, the French
army, under Bonaparte, in the full tide of its
success against the Austrians, first approached
the territories of this Republic, which from the
commencement of the war had observed a rigid
neutrality. Their entrance on these territories
was, as usual, accompanied by a solemn proclamation
in the name of their general:
BONAPARTE TO THE REPUBLIC OF VENICE.
“It is to deliver the finest country in Europe from the iron
yoke of the proud house of Austria, that the French army has
braved obstacles the most difficult to surmount. Victory in
union with justice has crowned its efforts. The wreck of the enemy’s
army has retired behind the Mincio. The French army,
in order to follow them, passes over the territory of the Republic
of Venice; but it will never forget that ancient friendship
unites the two republics. Religion, government, customs,
and property shall be respected. That the people may
be without apprehension, the most severe discipline shall be
maintained. All that may be provided for the army shall be
faithfully paid for in money. The general-in-chief engages
the officers of the Republic of Venice, the magistrates, and the
priests, to make known these sentiments to the people, in order
that confidence may cement that friendship which has so long
united the two nations. Faithful in the path of honor as in
that of victory, the French soldier is terrible only to the enemies
of his liberty and his government.
“Bonaparte.”
This proclamation was followed by exactions
similar to those which were practised against
Genoa, by the renewal of similar professions of
friendship, and the use of similar means to excite
insurrection. At length, in the spring of
1797, occasion was taken, from disturbances
thus excited, to forge in the name of the
Venetian Government, a proclamation hostile
to France, and this proceeding was made the
ground for military execution against the
country, and for effecting by force the subversion
of its ancient government and the establishment
of the democratic forms of the French
Revolution. This revolution was sealed by a
treaty, signed in May, 1797, between Bonaparte
and commissioners appointed on the part of the
new and revolutionary government of Venice.
By the second and third secret articles of this
treaty, Venice agreed to give as a ransom, to
secure itself against all further exactions or demands,
the sum of three millions of livres in
money, the value of three millions more in
articles of naval supply, and three ships of the
line; and it received in return the assurances of
the friendship and support of the French Republic.
Immediately after the signature of this
treaty, the arsenal, the library, and the palace
of St. Marc were ransacked and plundered, and
heavy additional contributions were imposed
upon its inhabitants. And, in not more than
four months afterward, this very Republic of
Venice, united by alliance to France, the
creature of Bonaparte himself, from whom it
had received the present of French liberty, was
by the same Bonaparte transferred, under the
treaty of Campo Formio, to “that iron yoke of
the proud house of Austria,” to deliver it from
which he had represented in his first proclamation
to be the great object of all his operations.
Sir, all this is followed by the memorable expedition
into Egypt, which I mention, not
merely because it forms a principal article in
the catalogue of those acts of violence and perfidy
in which Bonaparte has been engaged; not
merely because it was an enterprise peculiarly
his own, of which he was himself the planner,
the executor, and the betrayer; but chiefly because
when from thence he retires to a different
scene, to take possession of a new throne, from
which he is to speak upon an equality with the
kings and governors of Europe, he leaves behind
him, at the moment of his departure, a
specimen, which cannot be mistaken, of his
principles of negotiation. The intercepted correspondence
which has been alluded to in this
debate, seems to afford the strongest ground to
believe that his offers to the Turkish Government
to evacuate Egypt were made solely with
a view to gain time; that the ratification of any
treaty on this subject was to be delayed with
the view of finally eluding its performance, if
any change of circumstances favorable to the
French should occur in the interval. But whatever
gentlemen may think of the intention with
which these offers were made, there will at least
be no question with respect to the credit due to
those professions by which he endeavored to
prove in Egypt his pacific dispositions. He expressly
enjoins his successor strongly and steadily
to insist, in all his intercourse with the
Turks, that he came to Egypt with no hostile
design, and that he never meant to keep possession
of the country; while, on the opposite
page of the same instructions, he states in the
most unequivocal manner his regret at the discomfiture
of his favorite project of colonizing
Egypt, and of maintaining it as a territorial acquisition.
Now, sir, if in any note addressed to
the Grand Vizier or the Sultan, Bonaparte had
claimed credit for the sincerity of his professions,
that he came to Egypt with no view hostile
to Turkey, and solely for the purpose of
molesting the British interests, is there any one
argument now used to induce us to believe his
present professions to us, which might not have
been equally urged on that occasion? Would
not those professions have been equally supported
by solemn asseveration, by the same reference
which is now made to personal character,
with this single difference, that they would have
then had one instance less of hypocrisy and
falsehood, which we have since had occasion to
trace in this very transaction?
It is unnecessary to say more with respect to
the credit due to his professions, or the reliance
to be placed on his general character. But it
will, perhaps, be argued that whatever may be
his character, or whatever has been his past conduct,
he has now an interest in making and
observing peace. That he has an interest in
making peace is at best but a doubtful proposition,
and that he has an interest in preserving
it is still more uncertain. That it is his interest
to negotiate, I do not indeed deny. It is his
interest, above all, to engage this country in
separate negotiation, in order to loosen and dissolve
the whole system of the confederacy on
the continent, to palsy at once the arms of
Russia, or of Austria, or of any other country
that might look to you for support; and then
either to break off his separate treaty, or, if he
should have concluded it, to apply the lesson
which is taught in his school of policy in Egypt,
and to revive at his pleasure those claims of indemnification
which may have been reserved to
some happier period.
This is precisely the interest which he has in
negotiation. But on what grounds are we to
be convinced that he has an interest in concluding
and observing a solid and permanent pacification?
Under all the circumstances of his
personal character, and his newly acquired
power, what other security has he for retaining
that power but the sword? His hold upon
France is the sword, and he has no other. Is
he connected with the soil, or with the habits,
the affections, or the prejudices of the country?
He is a stranger, a foreigner, and a usurper.
He unites in his own person every thing that a
pure republican must detest; every thing that
an enraged Jacobin has abjured; every thing
that a sincere and faithful royalist must feel as
an insult. If he is opposed at any time in his
career, what is his appeal? He appeals to his
fortune; in other words, to his army and his
sword. Placing, then, his whole reliance upon
military support, can he afford to let his military
renown pass away, to let his laurels wither, to
let the memory of his trophies sink in obscurity?
Is it certain that with his army confined within
France, and restrained from inroads upon her
neighbors, that he can maintain, at his devotion,
a force sufficiently numerous to support his
power? Having no object but the possession
of absolute dominion, no passion but military
glory, is it to be reckoned as certain that he
can feel such an interest in permanent peace as
would justify us in laying down our arms,
reducing our expense, and relinquishing our
means of security, on the faith of his engagements?
Do we believe that, after the conclusion
of peace, he would not still sigh over the
lost trophies of Egypt, wrested from him by
the celebrated victory of Aboukir, and the
brilliant exertions of that heroic band of British
seamen, whose influence and example rendered
the Turkish troops invincible at Acre? Can he
forget that the effect of these exploits enabled
Austria and Russia, in one campaign, to recover
from France all which she had acquired by his
victories, to dissolve the charm which for a
time fascinated Europe, and to show that their
generals, contending in a just cause, could efface,
even by their success and their military glory,
the most dazzling triumphs of his victorious
and desolating ambition?
Can we believe, with these impressions on
his mind, that if, after a year, eighteen months,
or two years of peace had elapsed, he should
be tempted by the appearance of fresh insurrection
in Ireland, encouraged by renewed and
unrestrained communication with France, and
fomented by the fresh infusion of Jacobin
principles; if we were at such a moment without
a fleet to watch the ports of France, or to
guard the coasts of Ireland, without a disposable
army, or an embodied militia, capable of
supplying a speedy and adequate re-enforcement,
and that he had suddenly the means of
transporting thither a body of twenty or thirty
thousand French troops; can we believe that,
at such a moment, his ambition and vindictive
spirit would be restrained by the recollection of
engagements or the obligation of treaty? Or if,
in some new crisis of difficulty and danger to
the Ottoman Empire, with no British navy in
the Mediterranean, no confederacy formed, no
force collected to support it, an opportunity
should present itself for resuming the abandoned
expedition to Egypt, for renewing the
avowed and favorite project of conquering and
colonizing that rich and fertile country, and of
opening the way to wound some of the vital
interests of England, and to plunder the treasures
of the East, in order to fill the bankrupt
coffers of France,—would it be the interest of
Bonaparte, under such circumstances, or his
principles, his moderation, his love of peace, his
aversion to conquest, and his regard for the
independence of other nations—would it be all
or any of these that would secure us against an
attempt which would leave us only the option
of submitting without a struggle to certain loss
and disgrace, or of renewing the contest which
we had prematurely terminated, without allies,
without preparation, with diminished means,
and with increased difficulty and hazard?
Hitherto I have spoken only of the reliance
which we can place on the professions, the
character, and the conduct of the present First
Consul; but it remains to consider the stability
of his power. The Revolution has been marked
throughout by a rapid succession of new depositaries
of public authority, each supplanting
its predecessor. What grounds have we to believe
that this new usurpation, more odious and
more undisguised than all that preceded it, will
be more durable? Is it that we rely on the
particular provisions contained in the code of
the pretended Constitution, which was proclaimed
as accepted by the French people as
soon as the garrison of Paris declared their determination
to exterminate all its enemies, and
before any of its articles could even be known
to half the country, whose consent was required
for its establishment?
I will not pretend to inquire deeply into the
nature and effects of a Constitution which can
hardly be regarded but as a farce and a mockery.
If, however, it could be supposed that its
provisions were to have any effect, it seems
equally adapted to two purposes: that of giving
to its founder, for a time, an absolute and uncontrolled
authority; and that of laying the certain
foundation of disunion and discord, which,
if they once prevail, must render the exercise
of all the authority under the Constitution impossible,
and leave no appeal but to the sword.
Is, then, military despotism that which we
are accustomed to consider as a stable form of
government? In all ages of the world it has
been attended with the least stability to the
persons who exercised it, and with the most
rapid succession of changes and revolutions.
In the outset of the French Revolution, its
advocates boasted that it furnished a security
forever, not to France only, but to all countries
in the world, against military despotism; that
the force of standing armies was vain and delusive;
that no artificial power could resist
public opinion; and that it was upon the foundation
of public opinion alone that any government
could stand. I believe that in this instance,
as in every other, the progress of the
French Revolution has belied its professions;
but, so far from its being a proof of the prevalence
of public opinion against military force, it
is, instead of the proof, the strongest exception
from that doctrine which appears in the history
of the world. Through all the stages of the
Revolution military force has governed, and
public opinion has scarcely been heard. But
still I consider this as only an exception from a
general truth. I still believe that in every civilized
country, not enslaved by a Jacobin faction,
public opinion is the only sure support of any
government. I believe this with the more satisfaction,
from a conviction that, if this contest
is happily terminated, the established governments
of Europe will stand upon that rock
firmer than ever; and, whatever may be the
defects of any particular Constitution, those
who live under it will prefer its continuance to
the experiment of changes which may plunge
them in the unfathomable abyss of revolution,
or extricate them from it only to expose them
to the terrors of military despotism. And to
apply this to France, I see no reason to believe
that the present usurpation will be more permanent
than any other military despotism
which has been established by the same means,
and with the same defiance of public opinion.
What, then, is the inference I draw from all
that I have now stated? Is it that we will in
no case treat with Bonaparte? I say no such
thing. But I say, as has been said in the answer
returned to the French note, that we
ought to wait for “experience and the evidence of
facts” before we are convinced that such a
treaty is admissible. The circumstances I have
stated would well justify us if we should be
slow in being convinced; but on a question of
peace and war, every thing depends upon degree
and upon comparison. If, on the one
hand, there should be an appearance that the
policy of France is at length guided by different
maxims from those which have hitherto
prevailed; if we should hereafter see signs of
stability in the government which are not
now to be traced; if the progress of the allied
army should not call forth such a spirit in
France as to make it probable that the act of
the country itself will destroy the system now
prevailing; if the danger, the difficulty, the risk
of continuing the contest should increase, while
the hope of complete ultimate success should
be diminished; all these, in their due place, are
considerations which, with myself and, I can
answer for it, with every one of my colleagues,
will have their just weight. But at present
these considerations all operate one way; at
present there is nothing from which we can
presage a favorable disposition to change in
the French councils. There is the greatest
reason to rely on powerful co-operation from
our allies; there are the strongest marks of a
disposition in the interior of France to active
resistance against this new tyranny; and there
is every ground to believe, on reviewing our
situation and that of the enemy, that, if we are
ultimately disappointed of that complete success
which we are at present entitled to hope,
the continuance of the contest, instead of making
our situation comparatively worse, will have
made it comparatively better.
If, then, I am asked how long are we to persevere
in the war, I can only say that no period
can be accurately assigned. Considering the
importance of obtaining complete security for
the objects for which we contend, we ought not
to be discouraged too soon; but, on the contrary,
considering the importance of not impairing
and exhausting the radical strength of the
country, there are limits beyond which we
ought not to persist, and which we can determine
only by estimating and comparing fairly,
from time to time, the degree of security to be
obtained by treaty, and the risk and disadvantage
of continuing the contest.
But, sir, there are some gentlemen in the
House who seem to consider it already certain
that the ultimate success to which I am looking
is unattainable. They suppose us contending
only for the restoration of the French monarchy,
which they believe to be impracticable,
and deny to be desirable for this country. We
have been asked in the course of this debate:
Do you think you can impose monarchy upon
France, against the will of the nation? I never
thought it, I never hoped it, I never wished it.
I have thought, I have hoped, I have wished,
that the time might come when the effect of
the arms of the allies might so far overpower
the military force which keeps France in bondage,
as to give vent and scope to the thoughts
and actions of its inhabitants. We have, indeed,
already seen abundant proof of what is
the disposition of a large part of the country;
we have seen almost through the whole of the
Revolution the western provinces of France
deluged with the blood of its inhabitants, obstinately
contending for their ancient laws and
religion. We have recently seen, in the revival
of that war, fresh proof of the zeal which still
animates those countries in the same cause.
These efforts (I state it distinctly, and there are
those near me who can bear witness to the truth
of the assertion) were not produced by any
instigation from hence; they were the effects
of a rooted sentiment prevailing through all
those provinces forced into action by the “law
of the hostages” and the other tyrannical
measures of the Directory, at the moment when
we were endeavoring to discourage so hazardous
an enterprise. If, under such circumstances,
we find them giving proofs of their unalterable
perseverance in their principles; if there is
every reason to believe that the same disposition
prevails in many other extensive provinces
of France; if every party appears at length
equally wearied and disappointed with all the
successive changes which the Revolution has
produced; if the question is no longer between
monarchy, and even the pretence and name of
liberty, but between the ancient line of hereditary
princes on the one hand, and a military
tyrant, a foreign usurper, on the other; if the
armies of that usurper are likely to find sufficient
occupation on the frontiers, and to be
forced at length to leave the interior of the
country at liberty to manifest its real feeling
and disposition; what reason have we to anticipate,
that the restoration of monarchy under
such circumstances is impracticable?
In the exhausted and impoverished state
of France, it seems for a time impossible that
any system but that of robbery and confiscation,
any thing but the continued torture, which
can be applied only by the engines of the Revolution,
can extort from its ruined inhabitants
more than the means of supporting in peace
the yearly expenditure of its government. Suppose,
then, the heir of the house of Bourbon
reinstated on the throne, he will have sufficient
occupation in endeavoring, if possible, to heal
the wounds, and gradually to repair the losses
of ten years of civil convulsion; to reanimate
the drooping commerce, to rekindle the industry,
to replace the capital, and to revive the
manufactures of the country. Under such circumstances,
there must probably be a considerable
interval before such a monarch, whatever
may be his views, can possess the power which
can make him formidable to Europe; but while
the system of the Revolution continues, the
case is quite different. It is true, indeed, that
even the gigantic and unnatural means by which
that revolution has been supported are so far
impaired; the influence of its principles and
the terror of its arms so far weakened; and its
power of action so much contracted and circumscribed,
that against the embodied force of
Europe, prosecuting a vigorous war, we may
justly hope that the remnant and wreck of this
system cannot long oppose an effectual resistance.
But, supposing the confederacy of Europe
prematurely dissolved; supposing our armies
disbanded, our fleets laid up in our harbors, our
exertions relaxed, and our means of precaution
and defence relinquished; do we believe that
the Revolutionary power, with this rest and
breathing-time given it to recover from the
pressure under which it is now sinking, possessing
still the means of calling suddenly and violently
into action whatever is the remaining
physical force of France, under the guidance of
military despotism; do we believe that this
revolutionary power, the terror of which is now
beginning to vanish, will not again prove formidable
to Europe? Can we forget that in the
ten years in which that power has subsisted, it
has brought more misery on surrounding nations,
and produced more acts of aggression,
cruelty, perfidy, and enormous ambition than
can be traced in the history of France for the
centuries which have elapsed since the foundation
of its monarchy, including all the wars
which, in the course of that period, have been
waged by any of those sovereigns, whose projects
of aggrandizement and violations of treaty
afford a constant theme of general reproach
against the ancient government of France?
And if not, can we hesitate whether we have
the best prospect of permanent peace, the best
security for the independence and safety of
Europe, from the restoration of the lawful government,
or from the continuance of revolutionary
power in the hands of Bonaparte?
In compromise and treaty with such a power
placed in such hands as now exercise it, and
retaining the same means of annoyance which
it now possesses, I see little hope of permanent
security. I see no possibility at this moment
of such a peace as would justify that liberal
intercourse which is the essence of real amity;
no chance of terminating the expenses or the
anxieties of war, or of restoring to us any of
the advantages of established tranquillity, and,
as a sincere lover of peace, I cannot be content
with its nominal attainment. I must be desirous
of pursuing that system which promises to
attain, in the end, the permanent enjoyment of
its solid and substantial blessings for this country
and for Europe. As a sincere lover of
peace, I will not sacrifice it by grasping at the
shadow when the reality is not substantially
within my reach.
Cur igitur pacem nolo? Quia infida est,
quia periculosa, quia esse non potest.15
When we consider the resources and the
spirit of the country, can any man doubt that if
adequate security is not now to be obtained by
treaty, we have the means of prosecuting the
contest without material difficulty or danger,
and with a reasonable prospect of completely
attaining our object? I will not dwell on the
improved state of public credit; on the continually
increasing amount, in spite of extraordinary
temporary burdens, of our permanent
revenue; on the yearly accession of wealth to an
extent unprecedented even in the most flourishing
times of peace, which we are deriving, in
the midst of war, from our extended and
flourishing commerce; on the progressive improvement
and growth of our manufactures;
on the proofs which we see on all sides of
the uninterrupted accumulation of productive
capital; and on the active exertion of every
branch of national industry which can tend to
support and augment the population, the riches,
and the power of the country.
As little need I recall the attention of the
House to the additional means of action which
we have derived from the great augmentation
of our disposable military force, the continued
triumphs of our powerful and victorious navy,
and the events which, in the course of the last
two years, have raised the military ardor and
military glory of the country to a height unexampled
in any period of our history.
In addition to these grounds of reliance on
our own strength and exertions, we have seen
the consummate skill and valor of the arms of
our allies proved by that series of unexampled
successes in the course of the last campaign, and
we have every reason to expect a co-operation
on the continent, even to a greater extent, in
the course of the present year. If we compare
this view of our own situation with every thing
we can observe of the state and condition of
our enemy—if we can trace him laboring under
equal difficulty in finding men to recruit his
army, or money to pay it—if we know that in
the course of the last year the most rigorous
efforts of military conscription were scarcely
sufficient to replace to the French armies, at
the end of the campaign, the numbers which
they had lost in the course of it—if we have
seen that that force, then in possession of
advantages which it has since lost, was unable
to contend with the efforts of the combined
armies—if we know that, even while supported
by the plunder of all the countries which they
had overrun, those armies were reduced, by
the confession of their commanders, to the extremity
of distress, and destitute not only of
the principal articles of military supply, but
almost of the necessaries of life—if we see them
now driven back within their own frontiers, and
confined within a country whose own resources
have long since been proclaimed by their successive
governments to be unequal either to
paying or maintaining them—if we observe that
since the last revolution no one substantial or effectual
measure has been adopted to remedy the
intolerable disorder of their finances, and to supply
the deficiency of their credit and resources—if
we see through large and populous districts
of France, either open war levied against
the present usurpation, or evident marks of disunion
and distraction, which the first occasion
may call forth into a flame—if, I say, sir, this
comparison be just, I feel myself authorized to
conclude from it, not that we are entitled to
consider ourselves certain of ultimate success,
not that we are to suppose ourselves exempted
from the unforeseen vicissitudes of war, but
that, considering the value of the object for
which we are contending, the means for supporting
the contest, and the probable course of human
events, we should be inexcusable, if at
this moment we were to relinquish the struggle
on any grounds short of entire and complete
security; that from perseverance in our efforts
under such circumstances, we have the fairest
reason to expect the full attainment of our
object; but that at all events, even if we are
disappointed in our more sanguine hopes, we
are more likely to gain than to lose by the continuation
of the contest; that every month to
which it is continued, even if it should not in its
effects lead to the final destruction of the Jacobin
system, must tend so far to weaken and exhaust
it, as to give us at least a greater comparative
security in any termination of the war; that, on
all these grounds, this is not the moment at which
it is consistent with our interest or our duty to
listen to any proposals of negotiation with the
present ruler of France; but that we are not,
therefore, pledged to any unalterable determination
as to our future conduct; that in this we
must be regulated by the course of events; and
that it will be the duty of his Majesty’s ministers
from time to time to adapt their measures to
any variation of circumstances, to consider how
far the effects of the military operations of
the allies or of the internal disposition of
France correspond with our present expectations;
and, on a view of the whole, to compare
the difficulties or risks which may arise in the
prosecution of the contest with the prospect of
ultimate success, or of the degree of advantage
to be derived from its farther continuance, and
to be governed by the result of all these considerations
in the opinion and advice which they
may offer to their sovereign.