LETTER III.

I THANK you for the bundle of State-papers, which I received yeſterday. I have travelled through the Negotiation; and a ſad, founderous road it is. There is a ſort of a ſtanding jeſt againſt my countrymen, that one of them on his journey having found a piece of pleaſant road, he propoſed to his companion to go over it again. This pro⯑poſal, with regard to the worthy traveller's final deſtination, was certainly a blunder. It was no blunder as to his immediate ſatisfaction; for the way was pleaſant. In the irkſome journey of the Regicide negotiations, it is otherwiſe: ‘Our paths are not paths of pleaſantneſs, nor our ways the ways to peace.’ All our miſtakes (if ſuch they are) like thoſe of our Hibernian traveller, are miſ⯑takes of repetition; and they will be full as far from bringing us to our place of reſt, as his well conſidered project was from forwarding him to his inn. Yet I ſee we perſevere. Fatigued with our former courſe; too liſtleſs to explore a new one; kept in action by inertneſs; moving only becauſe we have been in motion; with a ſort of plodding [2] perſeverance, we reſolve to meaſure back again the very ſame joyleſs, hopeleſs, and inglorious track. Backward and forward; oſcillation not progreſſion; much going in a ſcanty ſpace; the travels of a poſtillion, miles enough to circle the globe in one ſhort ſtage; we have been, and we are yet to be jolted and rattled over the looſe, miſplaced ſtones, and the treacherous hollows of this rough, ill kept, broken up, treacherous French cauſe⯑way!

The Declaration, which brings up the rear of the papers laid before Parliament, contains a re⯑view and a reaſoned ſummary of all our attempts, and all our failures; a conciſe but correct narra⯑tive of the painful ſteps taken to bring on the eſſay of a treaty at Paris; a clear expoſure of all the re⯑buffs we received in the progreſs of that experi⯑ment; an honeſt confeſſion of our departure from all the rules and all the principles of political ne⯑gotiation, and of common prudence, in the con⯑duct of it; and to crown the whole, a fair ac⯑count of the atrocious manner in which the Regi⯑cide enemies had broken up what had been ſo in⯑auſpiciouſly begun and ſo feebly carried on, by finally, and with all ſcorn, driving our ſuppliant Ambaſſador out of the limits of their uſurpation.

[3]Even after all that I have lately ſeen, I was a little ſurprized at this expoſure. A minute diſplay of hopes formed without foundation, and of la⯑bours purſued without fruit, is a thing not very flattering to ſelf-eſtimation. But truth has it's rights and it will aſſert them. The Declaration, after doing all this with a mortifying candour, con⯑cludes the whole recapitulation with an engage⯑ment ſtill more extraordinary than all the unuſual matter it contains. It ſays, ‘That his Majeſty, who had entered into this negotiation with good faith, who has ſuffered no impediment to pre⯑vent his proſecuting it with earneſtneſs and ſin⯑cerity, has now only to lament it's abrupt termi⯑nation, and to renew in the face of all Europe the ſolemn declaration, that whenever his enemies ſhall be diſpoſed to enter upon the work of a ge⯑neral pacification in a ſpirit of conciliation and equity, nothing ſhall be wanting on his part to contribute to the accompliſhment of that great object.’

If the diſguſting detail of the accumulated in⯑ſults we have received, in what we have very pro⯑perly called our "ſolicitation," to a gang of felons and murderers, had been produced as a proof of the utter inefficacy of that mode of proceeding with that deſcription of perſons, I ſhould have no⯑thing at all to object to it. It might furniſh mat⯑ter [4] concluſive in argument, and inſtructive in po⯑licy: but with all due ſubmiſſion to high autho⯑rity, and with all decent deference to ſuperiour lights, it does not ſeem quite clear to a diſcern⯑ment no better than mine, that the premiſes in that piece conduct irreſiſtibly to the con⯑cluſion. A laboured diſplay of the ill conſe⯑quences which have attended an uniform courſe of ſubmiſſion to every mode of contumelious inſult, with which the deſpotiſm of a proud, capricious, inſulting and implacable foe has choſen to buffet our patience, does not appear, to my poor thoughts, to be properly brought forth as a preliminary to juſtify a reſolution of perſevering in the very ſame kind of conduct, towards the very ſame ſort of perſon, and on the very ſame principles. We ſtate our experience, and then we come to the manly reſolution of acting in contradiction to it. All that has paſſed at Paris, to the moment of our being ſhamefully hiſſed off that ſtage, has been nothing but a more ſolemn repreſentation, on the theatre of the nation, of what had been before in rehearſal at Bâſle. As it is not only confeſſed by us, but made a matter of charge on the enemy, that he had given us no encouragement to believe there was a change in his diſpoſition, or in his po⯑licy at any time ſubſequent to the period of his rejecting our firſt overtures, there ſeems to have been no aſſignable motive for ſending Lord [5] Malmeſbury to Paris, except to expoſe his hum⯑bled country to the worſt indignities and the firſt of the kind, as the Declaration very truly ob⯑ſerves, that have been known in the world of ne⯑gotiation.

An honeſt neighbour of mine is not altogether unhappy in the application of an old common ſtory to a preſent occaſion. It may be ſaid of my friend, what Horace ſays of a neighbour of his, ‘garrit aniles ex re fabellas.’ Converſing on this ſtrange ſubject, he told me a current ſtory of a ſimple En⯑gliſh country 'Squire, who was perſuaded by cer⯑tain dilettanti of his acquaintance to ſee the world, and to become knowing in men and manners. Among other celebrated places, it was recom⯑mended to him to viſit Conſtantinople. He took their advice. After various adventures, not to our purpoſe to dwell upon, he happily arrived at that fa⯑mous city. As ſoon as he had a little repoſed himſelf from his fatigue, he took a walk into the ſtreets; but he had not gone far, before a ‘malignant and a turban'd Turk’ had his choler rouſed by the careleſs and aſſured air, with which this infidel ſtrutted about in the metropolis of true believers. In this temper, he loſt no time in doing to our traveller the honours of the place. The Turk croſſed over the way, and with perfect good-will gave him two or three luſty kicks on the ſeat of [6] honour. To reſent, or to return the compliment in Turkey, was quite out of the queſtion. Our traveller, ſince he could not otherwiſe acknow⯑ledge this kind of favour, received it with the beſt grace in the world—he made one of his moſt ceremonious bows, and begged the kicking Muſ⯑ſulman, ‘to accept his perfect aſſurances of high conſideration.’ Our countryman was too wiſe to imitate Othello in the uſe of the dagger. He thought it better, as better it was, to aſſuage his bruiſed dignity with half a yard ſquare of balmy diplomatick diachylon. In the diſaſters of their friends, people are ſeldom wanting in a laudable patience. When they are ſuch as do not threaten to end fatally, they become even matter of plea⯑ſantry. The Engliſh fellow-travellers of our ſuf⯑ferer, finding him a little out of ſpirits, entreated him not to take ſo ſlight a buſineſs ſo very ſeri⯑ouſly. They told him it was the cuſtom of the country; that every country had it's cuſtoms; that the Turkiſh manners were a little rough; but that in the main the Turks were a good-natured people; that what would have been a deadly affront any where elſe, was only a little freedom there; in ſhort, they told him to think no more of the matter, and to try his fortune in another promenade. But the 'Squire, though a little clowniſh, had ſome home⯑bred ſenſe. What! have I come, at all this expence and trouble, all the way to Conſtantinople only to [7] be kicked? Without going beyond my own ſta⯑ble, my groom, for half a crown, would have kicked me to my heart's content. I don't mean to ſtay in Conſtantinople eight and forty hours, nor ever to return to this rough, good-natured people, that have their own cuſtoms.

In my opinion the 'Squire was in the right. He was ſatisfied with his firſt ramble and his firſt injuries. But reaſon of ſtate and common-ſenſe are two things. If it were not for this difference, it might not appear of abſolute neceſſity, after having received a certain quantity of buffetings by ad⯑vance, that we ſhould ſend a Peer of the realm to the ſcum of the earth, to collect the debt to the laſt farthing; and to receive, with infinite aggra⯑vation, the ſame ſcorns which had been paid to our ſupplication through a Commoner: But it was proper, I ſuppoſe, that the whole of our coun⯑try, in all it's orders, ſhould have a ſhare of the indignity; and, as in reaſon, that the higher or⯑ders ſhould touch the larger proportion.

This buſineſs was not ended, becauſe our dig⯑nity was wounded, or becauſe our patience was worn out with contumely and ſcorn. We had not diſgorged one particle of the nauſeous doſes with which we were ſo liberally crammed by the mountebanks of Paris, in order to drug and diet us [8] into perfect tameneſs. No; we waited, till the mor⯑bid ſtrength of our boulimia for their phyſick had ex⯑hauſted the well-ſtored diſpenſary of their empiri⯑ciſm. It is impoſſible to gueſs at the term to which our forbearance would have extended. The Regi⯑cides were more fatigued with giving blows than the callous cheek of Britiſh Diplomacy was hurt in receiving them. They had no way left for getting rid of this mendicant perſeverance, but by ſending for the Beadle, and forcibly driving our Embaſſy 'of ſhreds and patches,' with all it's mumping cant, from the inhoſpitable door of Can⯑nibal Caſtle—

I think we might have found, before the rude hand of inſolent office was on our ſhoulder, and the ſtaff of uſurped authority brandiſhed over our heads, that contempt of the ſuppliant is not the beſt forwarder of a ſuit; that national diſgrace is not the high road to ſecurity, much leſs to power and greatneſs. Patience, indeed, ſtrongly indicates the love of peace: But mere love does not always lead to enjoyment. It is the power of winning that palm which inſures our wearing it. Virtues have their place; and out of their place they hardly deſerve the name. They paſs into the neighbour⯑ing vice. The patience of fortitude, and the en⯑durance [9] of puſillanimity are things very different, as in their principle, ſo in their effects.

In truth this Declaration, containing a narra⯑tive of the firſt tranſaction of the kind (and I hope it will be the laſt) in the intercourſe of nations, as a compoſition, is ably drawn. It does credit to our official ſtyle. The report of the Speech of the Miniſter in a great Aſſembly, which I have read, is a comment upon the Declaration. With⯑out enquiry how far that report is exact, (inferior I believe it may be to what it would repreſent,) yet ſtill it reads as a moſt eloquent and finiſhed performance. Hardly one galling circumſtance of the indignities offered by the Directory of Regi⯑cide, to the ſupplications made to that junto in his Majeſty's name, has been ſpared. Every one of the aggravations attendant on theſe acts of out⯑rage is, with wonderful perſpicuity and order, brought forward in it's place, and in the manner moſt fitted to produce it's effect. They are turned to every point of view in which they can be ſeen to the beſt advantage. All the parts are ſo arranged as to point out their relation, and to furniſh a true idea of the ſpirit of the whole tranſaction.

This Speech may ſtand for a model. Never, for the triumphal decoration of any theatre, not [10] for the decoration of thoſe of Athens and Rome, or even of this theatre of Paris, from the em⯑broideries of Babylon or from the loom of the Gobelins, has there been ſent any hiſtorick tiſ⯑ſue, ſo truly drawn, ſo cloſely and ſo finely wrought, or in which the forms are brought out in the rich purple of ſuch glowing and bluſhing colours. It puts me in mind of the piece of ta⯑peſtry, with which Virgil propoſed to adorn the theatre he was to erect to Auguſtus, upon the banks of the Mincio, who now hides his head in his reeds, and leads his ſlow and melancholy wind⯑ings through banks waſted by the barbarians of Gaul. He ſuppoſes that the artifice is ſuch, that the figures of the conquered nations in his tapeſtry are made to play their part, and are confounded in the machine:

Or as Dryden tranſlates it ſomewhat paraphraſti⯑cally, but not leſs in the ſpirit of the Prophet than of the Poet,

It is ſomething wonderful, that the ſagacity ſhown in the Declaration and the Speech (and, ſo [11] far as it goes, greater was never ſhown) ſhould have failed to diſcover to the writer and to the ſpeaker, the inſeparable relation between the par⯑ties to this tranſaction; and that nothing can be ſaid to diſplay the imperious arrogance of a baſe ene⯑my, which does not deſcribe with equal force and equal truth the contemptible figure of an abject embaſſy to that imperious Power.

It is no leſs ſtriking, that the ſame obvious reflexion ſhould not occur to thoſe gentlemen who conducted the oppoſition to Government. But their thoughts were turned another way. They ſeem to have been ſo entirely occupied with the defence of the French Directory, ſo very eager in finding recriminatory precedents to juſtify every act of it's intolerable inſolence, ſo animated in their accuſations of Miniſtry for not having, at the very outſet, made conceſ⯑ſions proportioned to the dignity of the great victorious Power we had offended, that every thing concerning the ſacrifice in this buſineſs of national honour, and of the moſt fundamental principles in the policy of negotiation, ſeemed wholly to have eſcaped them. To this fatal hour, the contention in Parliament appeared in another form, and was animated by another ſpirit. For three hundred years and more, we have had wars with what ſtood as Government in France. In all [12] that period the language of Miniſters, whether of boaſt or of apology, was, that they had left nothing undone for the aſſertion of the national honour; the Oppoſition, whether patriotically or factiouſly, con⯑tending, that the Miniſters had been oblivious of the national glory, and had made improper ſacrifices of that publick intereſt, which they were bound not only to preſerve, but by all fair methods to augment. This total change of tone on both ſides of your houſe, forms itſelf no inconſiderable revolution; and I am afraid it prognoſticates others of ſtill greater importance. The Miniſters exhauſted the ſtores of their eloquence in demonſtrating, that they had quitted the ſafe, beaten high-way of trea⯑ty between independent Powers; that to pacify the enemy they had made every ſacrifice of the national dignity; and that they had offered to im⯑molate at the ſame ſhrine the moſt valuable of the national acquiſitions. The Oppoſition inſiſted, that the victims were not fat nor fair enough to be of⯑fered on the altars of blaſphemed Regicide; and it was inferred from thence, that the ſacrifical miniſters, (who were a ſort of intruders in the worſhip of the new divinity) in their ſchiſmati⯑cal devotion had diſcovered more of hypocriſy than zeal. They charged them with a concealed re⯑ſolution to perſevere in what theſe gentlemen have (in perfect conſiſtency, indeed, with themſelves, [13] but moſt irreconcileably with fact and reaſon) called an unjuſt and impolitick war.

That day was, I fear, the fatal term of local pa⯑triotiſm. On that day, I fear, there was an end of that narrow ſcheme of relations called our country, with all it's pride, it's prejudices, and it's partial affections. All the little quiet rivulets that water⯑ed an humble, a contracted, but not an unfruitful field, are to be loſt in the waſte expanſe, and boundleſs, barren ocean of the homicide philan⯑thropy of France. It is no longer an object of terror, the aggrandizement of a new power, which teaches as a profeſſor that philanthropy in the chair; whilſt it propagates by arms, and eſtabliſhes by conqueſt, the comprehenſive ſyſtem of univerſal fraternity. In what light is all this viewed in a great aſſembly? The party which takes the lead there has no longer any apprehenſions, except thoſe that ariſe from not being admitted to the cloſeſt and moſt confidential connexions with the metropolis of that fraternity. That reigning party no longer touches on it's favourite ſubject, the display of thoſe horrours that muſt attend the exiſtence of a power, with ſuch diſpoſitions and principles, ſeated in the heart of Europe. It is ſatisfied to find ſome looſe, ambiguous expreſſions in it's former declarations, which may ſet it free from it's pro⯑feſſions [14] and engagements. It always ſpeaks of peace with the Regicides as a great and an un⯑doubted bleſſing; and ſuch a bleſſing, as if ob⯑tained, promiſes, as much as any human diſpoſition of things can promiſe, ſecurity and permanence. It holds out nothing at all definite towards this ſecurity. It only ſeeks, by a reſtoration, to ſome of their former owners, of ſome fragments of the general wreck of Europe, to find a plauſible plea for a preſent retreat from an embarraſ⯑ſing poſition. As to the future, that party is con⯑tent to leave it, covered in a night of the moſt palpable obſcurity. It never once has entered into a particle of detail of what our own ſituation, or that of other Powers muſt be, under the bleſſings of the peace we ſeek. This defect, to my power, I mean to ſupply; that if any perſons ſhould ſtill continue to think an attempt at foreſight is any part of the duty of a Stateſman, I may contri⯑bute my trifle to the materials of his ſpeculation.

As to the other party, the minority of to-day, poſſibly the majority of to-morrow, ſmall in num⯑ber, but full of talents and every ſpecies of energy, which, upon the avowed ground of being more acceptable to France, is a candidate for the helm of this kingdom, it has never changed from the beginning. It has preſerved a perennial conſiſt⯑ency. This would be a never-failing ſource of [15] true glory, if ſpringing from juſt and right; but it is truly dreadful if it be an arm of Styx, which ſprings out of the profoundeſt depths of a poiſoned ſoil. The French maxims were by theſe gentlemen at no time condemned. I ſpeak of their language in the moſt moderate terms. There are many who think that they have gone much fur⯑ther; that they have always magnified and extol⯑led the French maxims; that not in the leaſt diſ⯑guſted or diſcouraged by the monſtrous evils, which have attended theſe maxims from the moment of their adoption, both at home and abroad, they ſtill continue to predict, that in due time they muſt produce the greateſt good to the poor hu⯑man race. They obſtinately perſiſt in ſtating thoſe evils as matter of accident; as things wholly colla⯑teral to the ſyſtem.

It is obſerved, that this party has never ſpoken of an ally of Great Britain with the ſmalleſt degree of reſpect or regard; on the contrary, it has gene⯑rally mentioned them under opprobrious appella⯑tions, and in ſuch terms of contempt or execra⯑tion, as never had been heard before, becauſe no ſuch would have formerly been permitted in our public aſſemblies. The moment, however, that any of thoſe allies quitted this obnoxious connexion, the party has inſtantly paſſed an act of indemnity and oblivion in their favour. After [16] this, no ſort of cenſure on their conduct; no im⯑putation on their character! From that moment their pardon was ſealed in a reverential and myſte⯑rious ſilence. With the Gentlemen of this mino⯑rity, there is no ally, from one end of Europe to the other, with whom we ought not to be aſhamed to act. The whole College of the States of Eu⯑rope is no better than a gang of tyrants. With them all our connexions were broken off at once. We ought to have cultivated France, and France alone, from the moment of her Revolution. On that happy change, all our dread of that nation as a power was to ceaſe. She became in an inſtant dear to our affections, and one with our intereſts. All other nations we ought to have commanded not to trouble her ſacred throes, whilſt in la⯑bour to bring into an happy birth her abundant litter of conſtitutions. We ought to have acted under her auſpices, in extending her ſalutary in⯑fluence upon every ſide. From that moment England and France were become natural allies, and all the other States natural enemies. The whole face of the world was changed. What was it to us if ſhe acquired Holland and the Auſtrian Netherlands? By her conqueſts ſhe only enlarged the ſphere of her beneficence; ſhe only extended the bleſſings of liberty to ſo many more fooliſhly reluctant nations. What was it to England, if by adding theſe, among the richeſt and moſt peopled [17] countries of the world, to her territories, ſhe there⯑by left no poſſible link of communication between us and any other Power with whom we could act againſt her? On this new ſyſtem of optimiſm, it is ſo much the better;—ſo much the further are we removed from the contact with infectious deſ⯑potiſm. No longer a thought of a barrier in the Netherlands to Holland againſt France. All that is obſolete policy. It is fit that France ſhould have both Holland and the Auſtrian Netherlands too, as a barrier to her againſt the attacks of deſpotiſm. She cannot multiply her ſecurities too much; and as to our ſecurity, it is to be found in her's. Had we cheriſhed her from the beginning, and felt for her when attacked, ſhe, poor good ſoul, would never have invaded any foreign nation; never murdered her Sovereign and his family; never proſcribed, never exiled, never impriſoned, never been guilty of extrajudicial maſſacre, or of legal murder. All would have been a golden age, full of peace, order, and liberty! and philoſophy, ray⯑ing out from Europe, would have warmed and en⯑lightened the univerſe: but unluckily, irritable philoſophy, the moſt irritable of all things, was put into a paſſion, and provoked into ambition abroad and tyranny at home. They find all this very natural and very juſtifiable. They chuſe to forget, that other nations ſtruggling for freedom, have been attacked by their neighbours; or that [18] their neigbours have otherwiſe interfered in their affairs. Often have neighbours interfered in fa⯑vour of Princes againſt their rebellious ſubjects; and often in favour of ſubjects againſt their Prince. Such caſes fill half the pages of hiſtory, yet never were they uſed as an apology, much leſs as a juſ⯑tification, for atrocious cruelty in Princes, or for general maſſacre and confiſcation on the part of revolted ſubjects; never as a politick cauſe for ſuf⯑fering any ſuch powers to aggrandize themſelves without limit and without meaſure. A thouſand times have we ſeen it aſſerted in publick prints and pamphlets, that if the nobility and prieſthood of France had ſtaid at home, their property ne⯑ver would have been confiſcated. One would think that none of the clergy had been rob⯑bed previous to their deportation, or that their deportation had, on their part, been a volun⯑tary act. One would think that the nobility and gentry, and merchants and bankers, who ſtaid at home, had enjoyed their property in ſecurity and repoſe. The aſſertors of theſe poſitions well know, that the lot of thouſands who remained at home was far more terrible; that the moſt cruel im⯑priſonment was only a harbinger of a cruel and ignominious death; and that in this mother coun⯑try of freedom, there were no leſs than Three Hun⯑dred Thousand at one time in priſon. I go no further. I inſtance only theſe repreſentations of [19] the party as ſtaring indications of partiality to that ſect, to whoſe dominion they would have left this country nothing to oppoſe but her own naked force, and conſequently ſubjected us, on every reverſe of fortune, to the imminent danger of fal⯑ling under thoſe very evils in that very ſyſtem, which are attributed, not to it's own nature, but to the perverſeneſs of others. There is nothing in the world ſo difficult as to put men in a ſtate of judicial neutrality. A leaning there muſt ever be, and it is of the firſt importance to any nation to obſerve to what ſide that leaning inclines— whether to our own community or to one with which it is in a ſtate of hoſtility.

Men are rarely without ſome ſympathy in the ſufferings of others; but in the immenſe and di⯑verſified maſs of human miſery, which may be pi⯑tied, but cannot be relieved, in the groſs, the mind muſt make a choice. Our ſympathy is always more forcibly attracted towards the misfortunes of certain perſons, and in certain deſcriptions: and this ſympathetic attraction diſcovers, beyond a poſſibility of miſtake, our mental affinities, and elec⯑tive affections. It is a much ſurer proof, than the ſtrongeſt declaration, of a real connexion and of an over-ruling bias in the mind. I am told that the active ſympathies of this party have been chiefly, if not wholly attracted to the ſufferings of the pa⯑triarchal [20] rebels, who were amongſt the promulga⯑tors of the maxims of the French Revolution, and who have ſuffered, from their apt and forward ſcho⯑lars, ſome part of the evils, which they had them⯑ſelves ſo liberally diſtributed to all the other parts of the community. Some of theſe men, flying from the knives which they had ſharpened againſt their country and it's laws, rebelling againſt the very powers they had ſet over themſelves by their rebel⯑lion againſt their Sovereign, given up by thoſe very armies to whoſe faithful attachment they truſted for their ſafety and ſupport, after they had compleatly debauched all military fidelity in it's ſource; ſome of theſe men, I ſay, had fallen into the hands of the head of that family, the moſt illuſ⯑trious perſon of which they had three times cruelly impriſoned, and delivered in that ſtate of captivity to thoſe hands, from which they were able to re⯑lieve, neither her, nor their own neareſt and moſt venerable kindred. One of theſe men, con⯑nected with this country by no circumſtance of birth; not related to any diſtinguiſhed families here; recommended by no ſervice; endeared to this nation by no act or even expreſſion of kind⯑neſs; comprehended in no league or common cauſe; embraced by no laws of publick hoſpitality; this man was the only one to be found in Eu⯑rope, in whoſe favour the Britiſh nation, paſſing judgment, without hearing, on it's almoſt only ally, [21] was to force, (and that not by ſoothing interpoſi⯑tion, but with every reproach for inhumanity, cruelty, and breach of the laws of war,) from priſon. We were to releaſe him from that pri⯑ſon out of which, in abuſe of the lenity of Go⯑vernment amidſt it's rigour, and in violation of at leaſt an underſtood parole, he had attempted an eſcape; an eſcape excuſeable if you will, but na⯑turally productive of ſtrict and vigilant confine⯑ment. The earneſtneſs of gentlemen to free this perſon was the more extraordinary, becauſe there was full as little in him to raiſe admiration, from any eminent qualities he poſſeſſed, as there was to ex⯑cite an intereſt, from any that were amiable. A perſon, not only of no real civil or literary talents, but of no ſpecious appearance of either; and in his military profeſſion, not marked as a leader in any one act of able or ſucceſsful enterprize —unleſs his leading on (or his following) the al⯑lied army of Amazonian and male cannibal Pari⯑ſians to Verſailles, on the famous fifth of October, 1789, is to make his glory. Any other exploit of his, as a General, I never heard of. But the triumph of general fraternity was but the more ſignalized by the total want of particular claims in that caſe; and by poſtponing all ſuch claims, in a caſe where they really exiſted, where they ſtood emboſſed, and in a manner forced themſelves on the view of com⯑mon ſhort-ſighted benevolence. Whilſt, for its im⯑provement, [22] the humanity of theſe gentlemen was thus on it's travels, and had got as far off as Ol⯑mutz, they never thought of a place and a perſon much nearer to them, or of moving an inſtruction to Lord Malmeſbury in favour of their own ſuffer⯑ing countryman, Sir Sydney Smith.

This officer, having attempted, with great gal⯑lantry, to cut out a veſſel from one of the enemy's harbours, was taken after an obſtinate reſiſtance; ſuch as obtained him the marked reſpect of thoſe who were witneſſes of his valour, and knew the circumſtances in which it was diſplayed. Upon his arrival at Paris, he was inſtantly thrown into priſon; where the nature of his ſituation will beſt be underſtood, by knowing, that amongſt its miti⯑gations, was the permiſſion to walk occaſionally in the court, and to enjoy the privilege of ſhaving himſelf. On the old ſyſtem of feelings and prin⯑ciples, his ſufferings might have been entitled to conſideration; and even in a compariſon with thoſe of Citizen la Fayette, to a priority in the order of compaſſion. If the Miniſters had neglected to take any ſteps in his favour, a declaration of the ſenſe of the Houſe of Commons would have ſtimulated them to their duty. If they had cauſed a repre⯑ſentation to be made, ſuch a proceeding would have added force to it. If repriſal ſhould be thought adviſeable, the addreſs of the Houſe would [23] have given an additional ſanction to a meaſure, which would have been, indeed, juſtifiable with⯑out any other ſanction than it's own reaſon. But no. Nothing at all like it. In fact, the merit of Sir Sydney Smith, and his claim on Britiſh com⯑paſſion, was of a kind altogether different from that which intereſted ſo deeply the authors of the motion in favour of Citizen la Fayette. In my humble opinion, Captain Sir Sydney Smith has another ſort of merit with the Britiſh nation, and ſomething of a higher claim on Britiſh humanity than Citizen de la Fayette. Faithful, zealous, and ardent in the ſervice of his King and Country; full of ſpirit; full of reſources; going out of the beaten road, but going right, becauſe his uncommon enterprize was not conducted by a vulgar judgment;—in his profeſſion, Sir Sydney Smith might be conſidered as a diſtinguiſhed perſon, if any perſon could well be diſtinguiſhed in a ſervice in which ſcarce a Commander can be named without putting you in mind of ſome action of intrepidity, ſkill, and vigilance, that has given them a fair title to con⯑tend with any men and in any age. But I will ſay nothing farther of the merits of Sir Sydney Smith: The mortal animoſity of the Regicide enemy ſu⯑perſedes all other panegyrick. Their hatred is a judgment in his favour without appeal. At preſent he is lodged in the tower of the Temple, the laſt priſon of Louis the Sixteenth, and the laſt but one [24] of Maria Antonietta of Auſtria; the priſon of Louis the Seventeenth; the priſon of Elizabeth of Bour⯑bon. There he lies, unpitied by the grand philan⯑thropy, to meditate upon the fate of thoſe who are faithful to their King and Country. Whilſt this priſoner, ſecluded from intercourſe, was in⯑dulging in theſe cheering reflections, he might poſſibly have had the further conſolation of learn⯑ing (by means of the inſolent exultation of his guards) that there was an Engliſh Ambaſſador at Paris; he might have had the proud comfort of hearing, that this Ambaſſador had the honour of paſſing his mornings in reſpectful attendance at the office of a Regicide pettifogger; and that in the evening he relaxed in the amuſements of the opera, and in the ſpectacle of an audience totally new; an audience in which he had the pleaſure of ſeeing about him not a ſingle face that he could formerly have known in Paris; but in the place of that company, one indeed more than equal to it in diſplay of gaiety, ſplendour and luxury; a ſet of abandoned wretches, ſquandering in inſolent riot the ſpoils of their bleeding country. A ſubject of profound reflection both to the priſoner and to the Ambaſſador.

Whether all the matter upon which I have grounded my opinion of this laſt party be fully au⯑thenticated or not, muſt be left to thoſe who have [25] had the opportunity of a nearer view of it's con⯑duct, and who have been more attentive in their peruſal of the writings, which have appeared in it's favour. But for my part, I have never heard the groſs facts on which I ground my idea of their marked partiality to the reigning Tyranny in France, in any part, denied. I am not ſurprized at all this. Opinions, as they ſometimes follow, ſo they frequently guide and direct the affections; and men may become more attached to the country of their principles, than to the country of their birth. What I have ſtated here is only to mark the ſpirit which ſeems to me, though in ſomewhat different ways, to actuate our great party-leaders; and to trace this firſt pattern of a negotiation to it's true ſource.

Such is the preſent ſtate of our publick councils. Well might I be aſhamed of what ſeems to be a cenſure of two great factions, with the two moſt eloquent men, which this country ever ſaw, at the head of them, if I had found that either of them could ſupport their conduct by any example in the hiſtory of their country. I ſhould very much prefer their judgment to my own, if I were not ob⯑liged, by an infinitely overbalancing weight of authority, to prefer the collected wiſdom of ages to the abilities of any two men living. I return to [26] the Declaration, with which the hiſtory of the abor⯑tion of a treaty with the Regicides is cloſed.

After ſuch an elaborate diſplay had been made of the injuſtice and inſolence of an enemy, who ſeems to have been irritated by every one of the means, which had been commonly uſed with effect to ſoothe the rage of intemperate power, the na⯑tural reſult would be, that the ſcabbard, in which we in vain attempted to plunge our ſword, ſhould have been thrown away with ſcorn. It would have been natural, that, riſing in the fulneſs of their might, inſulted majeſty, deſpiſed dignity, violated juſtice, rejected ſupplication, patience goaded into fury, would have poured out all the length of the reins upon all the wrath which they had ſo long reſtrained. It might have been expected, that emulous of the glory of the youthful hero^* in alliance with him, touched by the example of what one man, well formed and well placed, may do in the moſt deſperate ſtate of affairs, convinced there is a courage of the Cabinet full as powerful, and far leſſ vulgar than that of the field, our Mi⯑niſter would have changed the whole line of that unproſperous prudence, which hitherto had pro⯑duced all the effects of the blindeſt temerity. If [27] he found his ſituation full of danger, (and I do not deny that it is perilous in the extreme) he muſt feel that it is alſo full of glory; and that he is placed on a ſtage, than which no Muſe of fire that had aſcended the higheſt heaven of in⯑vention, could imagine any thing more awful and auguſt. It was hoped, that in this ſwelling ſcene, in which he moved with ſome of the firſt Poten⯑tates of Europe for his fellow actors, and with ſo many of the reſt for the anxious ſpectators of a part, which, as he plays it, determines for ever their deſtiny and his own, like Ulyſſes, in the un⯑ravelling point of the epic ſtory, he would have thrown off his patience and his rags together; and ſtripped of unworthy diſguiſes, he would have ſtood forth in the form, and in the attitude of an hero. On that day, it was thought he would have aſſumed the port of Mars; that he would bid to be brought forth from their hideous kennel (where his ſcrupulous tenderneſs had too long immured them) thoſe impatient dogs of war, whoſe fierce regards affright even the Miniſter of Vengeance that feeds them; that he would let them looſe, in famine, fever, plagues, and death, upon a guilty race, to whoſe frame, and to all whoſe habit, order, peace, religion, and virtue, are alien and abhorrent. It was expected that he would at laſt have thought of active and effec⯑tual war; that he would no longer amuſe the [28] Britiſh Lion in the chace of mice and rats; that he would no longer employ the whole naval power of Great Britain, once the terrour of the world, to prey upon the miſerable remains of a pedling commerce, which the enemy did not re⯑gard, and from which none could profit. It was expected that he would have re-aſſerted the juſtice of his cauſe; that he would have re-ani⯑mated whatever remained to him of his allies, and endeavoured to recover thoſe whom their fears had led aſtray; that he would have re⯑kindled the martial ardour of his citizens; that he would have held out to them the example of their anceſtry, the aſſertor of Europe, and the ſcourge of French ambition; that he would have reminded them of a poſterity, which if this nefa⯑rious robbery, under the fraudulent name and falſe colour of a government, ſhould in full power be ſeated in the heart of Europe, muſt for ever be conſigned to vice, impiety, barbariſm, and the moſt ignominious ſlavery of body and mind. In ſo holy a cauſe it was preſumed, that he would, (as in the beginning of the war he did) have opened all the temples; and with prayer, with faſting, and with ſupplication (better directed than to the grim Moloch of Regicide in France), have called upon us to raiſe that united cry, which has ſo often ſtormed Heaven, and with a pious violence forced down bleſſings upon a repentant people. It was [29] hoped that when he had invoked upon his endea⯑vours the favourable regard of the Protector of the human race, it would be ſeen that his menaces to the enemy, and his prayers to the Almighty, were, not followed, but accompanied, with correſpondent action. It was hoped that his ſhrilling trumpet ſhould be heard, not to announce a ſhew, but to ſound a charge.

Such a concluſion to ſuch a Declaration and ſuch a Speech, would have been a thing of courſe; ſo much a thing of courſe, that I will be bold to ſay, if in any ancient hiſtory, the Roman for inſtance, (ſuppoſing that in Rome the matter of ſuch a detail could have been furniſhed) a Conſul had gone through ſuch a long train of proceed⯑ings, and that there was a chaſm in the manuſcripts by which we had loſt the concluſion of the ſpeech and the ſubſequent part of the narrative, all cri⯑ticks would agree, that a Freinſhemius would have been thought to have managed the ſupplementary buſineſs of a continuator moſt unſkilfully, and to have ſupplied the hiatus moſt improbably, if he had not filled up the gaping ſpace, in a manner ſome⯑what ſimilar, (though better executed) to what I have imagined. But too often different is ra⯑tional conjecture from melancholy fact. This exordium, as contrary to all the rules of rhetorick, as to thoſe more eſſential rules of policy which [30] our ſituation would dictate, is intended as a pre⯑lude to a deadening and diſheartening propoſi⯑tion; as if all that a Miniſter had to fear in a war of his own conducting, was, that the people ſhould purſue it with too ardent a zeal. Such a tone, as I gueſſed the Miniſter would have taken, I am very ſure, is the true, unſuborned, unſophiſti⯑cated language of genuine natural feeling under the ſmart of patience exhauſted and abuſed. Such a conduct as the facts ſtated in the Declaration gave room to expect, is that which true wiſdom would have dictated under the impreſſion of thoſe ge⯑nuine feelings. Never was there a jar or diſcord, be⯑tween genuine ſentiment and ſound policy. Never, no, never, did Nature ſay one thing and Wiſdom ſay another. Nor are ſentiments of elevation in them⯑ſelves turgid and unnatural. Nature is never more truly herſelf, than in her grandeſt forms. The Apollo of Belvedere (if the univerſal robber has yet left him at Belvedere) is as much in Nature, as any figure from the pencil of Rembrandt, or any clown in the ruſtic revels of Teniers. Indeed it is when a great nation is in great difficulties, that minds muſt exalt themſelves to the occaſion, or all is loſt. Strong paſſion under the direction of a feeble reaſon feeds a low fever, which ſerves only to deſtroy the body that entertains it. But ve⯑hement paſſion does not always indicate an infirm judgment. It often accompanies, and actuates, and [31] is even auxiliary to a powerful underſtanding; and when they both conſpire and act harmoniouſly, their force is great to deſtroy diſorder within, and to repel injury from abroad. If ever there was a time that calls on us for no vulgar conception of things, and for exertions in no vulgar ſtrain, it is the aw⯑ful hour that Providence has now appointed to this nation. Every little meaſure is a great errour; and every great errour will bring on no ſmall ruin. No⯑thing can be directed above the mark that we muſt aim at: Every thing below it is abſolutely thrown away.

Except with the addition of the unheard-of in⯑ſult offered to our Ambaſſador by his rude expul⯑ſion, we are never to forget that the point on which the negotiation with De la Croix broke off, was exactly that which had ſtifled in it's cradle the negotiation we had attempted with Barthélémy. Each of theſe tranſactions, concluded with a ma⯑nifeſto upon our part: but the laſt of our manifeſ⯑toes very materially differed from the firſt. The firſt Declaration ſtated, that ‘nothing was left but to proſecute a war equally juſt and neceſ⯑ſary.’ In the ſecond, the juſtice and ne⯑ceſſity of the war is dropped: The ſentence im⯑porting that nothing was left but the proſecu⯑tion of ſuch a war, diſappears alſo. Inſtead of this reſolution to proſecute the war, we ſink [32] into a whining lamentation on the abrupt termi⯑nation of the treaty. We have nothing left but the laſt reſource of female weakneſs, of helpleſs infancy, of doting decrepitude,—wailing and la⯑mentation. We cannot even utter a ſentiment of vigour—"his Majeſty has only to lament." A poor poſſeſſion, to be left to a great Mo⯑narch! Mark the effect produced on our coun⯑cils by continued inſolence, and inveterate hoſ⯑tility! We grow more malleable under their blows. In reverential ſilence, we ſmother the cauſe and origin of the war. On that funda⯑mental article of faith, we leave every one to abound in his own ſenſe. In the Miniſter's ſpeech, gloſſing on the Declaration, it is indeed mentioned; but very feebly. The lines are ſo faintly drawn as hardly to be traced. They only make a part of our conſolation in the circumſtances which we ſo dolefully lament. We reſt our merits on the humility, the earneſtneſs of ſolicita⯑tion, and the perfect good faith of thoſe ſubmiſ⯑ſions, which have been uſed to perſuade our Re⯑gicide enemies to grant us ſome ſort of peace. Not a word is ſaid, which might not have been full as well ſaid, and much better too, if the Bri⯑tiſh nation had appeared in the ſimple character of a penitent convinced of his errours and offences, and offering, by penances, by pilgrimages, and by all the modes of expiation ever deviſed by anxious, [33] reſtleſs guilt, to make all the atonement in his miſerable power.

The Declaration ends as I have before quoted it, with a ſolemn voluntary pledge, the moſt full and the moſt ſolemn that ever was given, of our reſolu⯑tion (if ſo it may be called) to enter again into the very ſame courſe. It requires nothing more of the Regicides, than to furniſh ſome ſort of excuſe, ſome ſort of colourable pretext, for our renewing the ſup⯑plications of innocence at the feet of guilt. It leaves the moment of negotiation, a moſt im⯑portant moment, to the choice of the enemy. He is to regulate it according to the convenience of his affairs. He is to bring it forward at that time when it may beſt ſerve to eſtabliſh his autho⯑rity at home, and to extend his power abroad. A dangerous aſſurance for this nation to give, whether it is broken or whether it is kept. As all treaty was broken off, and broken off in the manner we have ſeen, the field of future conduct ought to be reſerved free and unincumbered to our future diſcretion. As to the ſort of condition prefixed to the pledge, namely, ‘that the enemy ſhould be diſpoſed to enter into the work of general pacification with the ſpirit of reconciliation and equity,’ this phraſeology cannot poſſibly be con⯑ſidered otherwiſe, than as ſo many words thrown in to fill the ſentence, and to round it to the [34] ear. We prefixed the ſame plauſible conditions to any renewal of the negotiation, in our manifeſto on the rejection of our propoſals at Baſle. We did not conſider thoſe conditions as binding. We opened a much more ſerious negotiation without any ſort of regard to them; and there is no new negotiation, which we can poſſibly open upon fewer indications of conciliation and equity, than were to be diſcovered, when we entered into our laſt at Paris. Any of the ſlighteſt pretences, any of the moſt looſe, formal, equivocating expreſſions, would juſtify us under the peroration of this piece, in again ſending the laſt, or ſome other Lord Malmeſbury to Paris.

I hope I miſunderſtand this pledge; or, that we ſhall ſhew no more regard to it, than we have done to all the faith, that we have plighted to vigour and reſolution, in our former declaration. If I am to underſtand the concluſion of the declaration to be what unfortunately it ſeems to me, we make an en⯑gagement with the enemy, without any correſ⯑pondent engagement on his ſide. We ſeem to have cut ourſelves off from any benefit which an intermediate ſtate of things might furniſh to en⯑able us totally to overturn that power, ſo little connected with moderation and juſtice. By hold⯑ing out no hope, either to the juſtly diſcontented in France, or to any foreign power, and leaving the [35] re-commencement of all treaty to this identical jun⯑to of aſſaſſins, we do in effect aſſure and guarantee to them, the full poſſeſſion of the rich fruits of their confiſcations, of their murders of men, women, and children, and of all the multiplied, endleſs, nameleſs iniquities by which they have obtained their power. We guarantee to them the poſſeſ⯑ſion of a country, ſuch and ſo ſituated as France, round, entire, immenſely perhaps augmented.

Well! ſome will ſay, in this caſe we have only ſubmitted to the nature of things. The nature of things is, I admit, a ſturdy adverſary. This might be alledged as a plea for our attempt at a treaty. But what plea of that kind can be alledged, after the treaty was dead and gone, in favour of this poſthumous declaration? No neceſſity has driven us to that pledge. It is without a counterpart even in expectation. And what can be ſtated to obviate the evil which that ſolitary engagement muſt produce on the underſtandings or the fears of men? I aſk, what have the Regicides promiſed you in return, in caſe you ſhould ſhew what they would call diſpoſitions to conciliation and equity, whilſt you are giving that pledge from the throne, and engaging Parliament to counter-ſecure it? It is an awful conſideration. It was on the very day of the date of this wonderful pledge ^*, in which [36] we aſſumed the directorial Government as lawful, and in which we engaged ourſelves to treat with them whenever they pleaſed; it was on that very day, the Regicide fleet was weighing anchor from one of your harbours, where it had remained four days in perfect quiet. Theſe harbours of the Britiſh dominions are the ports of France. They are of no uſe, but to protect an enemy from your beſt Allies, the ſtorms of Heaven, and his own raſh⯑neſs. Had the Weſt of Ireland been an unportu⯑ous coaſt, the French naval power would have been undone. The enemy uſes the moment for hoſtility, without the leaſt regard to your future diſpoſitions of equity and conciliation. They go out of what were once your harbours, and they return to them at their pleaſure. Eleven days they had the full uſe of Bantry Bay, and at length their fleet returns from their harbour of Bantry to their harbour of Breſt. Whilſt you are invoking the propitious ſpirit of Regi⯑cide equity and conciliation, they anſwer you with an attack. They turn out the pacifick bearer of your "how do you does," Lord Malmeſbury; and they return your viſit, and their "thanks for your oblig⯑ing enquiries," by their old practiſed aſſaſſin Hoche. They come to attack—What? A town, a ſort, a na⯑val ſtation? They come to attack your King, your Conſtitution, and the very being of that Parlia⯑ment, which was holding out to them theſe pledges, together with the entireneſs of the Empire, the [37] Laws, Liberties, and Properties of all the people. We know that they meditated the very ſame in⯑vaſion, and for the very ſame purpoſes, upon this Kingdom; and had the coaſt been as opportune, would have effected it.

Whilſt you are in vain torturing your invention to aſſure them of your ſincerity and good faith, they have left no doubt concerning their good faith, and their ſincerity towards thoſe to whom they have engaged their honour. To their power they have been true to the only pledge they have ever yet given to you, or to any of yours, I mean the ſolemn engagement which they entered into with the deputation of traitors who appeared at their bar, from England and from Ireland, in 1792. They have been true and faithful to the engage⯑ment which they had made more largely; that is, their engagement to give effectual aid to in⯑ſurrection and treaſon, wherever they might ap⯑pear in the world. We have ſeen the Britiſh De⯑claration. This is the counter-declaration of the Directory. This is the reciprocal pledge which Regicide amity gives to the conciliatory pledges of Kings! But, thank God, ſuch pledges cannot exiſt ſingle. They have no counterpart; and if they had, the enemy's conduct cancels ſuch de⯑clarations; and I truſt, along with them, cancels [38] every thing of miſchief and diſhonour that they contain.

There is one thing in this buſineſs which ap⯑pears to be wholly unaccountable, or accountable, on a ſuppoſition I dare not entertain for a moment. I cannot help aſking, Why all this pains, to clear the Britiſh Nation of ambition, perfidy, and the inſatiate thirſt of war? At what period of time was it that our country has deſerved that load of infamy, of which nothing but preternatural humi⯑liation in language and conduct can ſerve to clear us? If we have deſerved this kind of evil fame from any thing we have done in a ſtate of proſ⯑perity, I am ſure, that it is not an abject conduct in adverſity that can clear our reputation. Well is it known that ambition can creep as well as ſoar. The pride of no perſon in a flouriſhing condition is more juſtly to be dreaded, than that of him who is mean and cringing under a doubtful and unproſperous fortune. But it ſeems it was thought neceſſary to give ſome out-of-the-way proofs of our ſincerity, as well as of our free⯑dom from ambition. Is then fraud and falſe⯑hood become the diſtinctive character of Engliſh⯑men? Whenever your enemy chooſes to ac⯑cuſe you of perfidy and ill faith, will you put it into his power to throw you into the purgatory of [39] ſelf-humiliation? Is his charge equal to the find⯑ing of the grand jury of Europe, and ſufficient to put you upon your trial? But on that trial I will defend the Engliſh Miniſtry. I am ſorry that on ſome points I have, on the principles I have al⯑ways oppoſed, ſo good a defence to make. They were not the firſt to begin the war. They did not excite the general confederacy in Europe, which was ſo properly formed on the alarm given by the Jacobiniſm of France. They did not be⯑gin with an hoſtile aggreſſion on the Regicides or any of their allies. Theſe parricides of their own country, diſciplining themſelves for foreign by domeſtick violence, were the firſt to attack a power that was our ally, by nature, by habit, and by the ſanction of multiplied treaties. Is it not true, that they were the firſt to declare war upon this kingdom? Is every word in the declaration from Downing-Street, concerning their conduct, and concerning ours and that of our allies, ſo ob⯑viouſly falſe, that it is neceſſary to give ſome new invented proofs of our good faith in order to ex⯑punge the memory of all this perfidy?

We know that over-labouring a point of this kind, has the direct contrary effect from what we wiſh. We know that there is a legal preſumption againſt men quando ſe nimis purgitant; and if a charge of ambition is not refuted by an affected hu⯑mility, [40] certainly the character of fraud and perfidy is ſtill leſs to be waſhed away by indications of meanneſs. Fraud and prevarication are ſervile vices. They ſometimes grow out of the neceſſities, always out of the habits of ſlaviſh and degenerate ſpirits: and on the theatre of the world, it is not by aſ⯑ſuming the maſk of a Davus or a Geta that an actor will obtain credit for manly ſimplicity and a liberal openneſs of proceeding. It is an erect countenance; it is a firm adherence to principle; it is a power of reſiſting falſe ſhame and frivolous fear, that aſſert our good faith and honour, and aſſure to us the confidence of mankind. There⯑fore all theſe Negotiations, and all the Declara⯑tions with which they were preceded and fol⯑lowed, can only ſerve to raiſe preſumptions againſt that good faith and publick integrity, the fame of which to preſerve inviolate is ſo much the intereſt and duty of every nation.

The pledge is an engagement "to all Eu⯑rope." This is the more extraordinary, becauſe it is a pledge, which no power in Europe, whom I have yet heard of, has thought proper to require at our hands. I am not in the ſecrets of office; and therefore I may be excuſed for proceeding upon probabilities and exteriour indications. I have ſur⯑veyed all Europe from the eaſt to the weſt, from the north to the ſouth, in ſearch of this call upon [41] us to purge ourſelves of "ſubtle duplicity and a punick ſtyle" in our proceedings. I have not heard that his ExITEMency the Ottoman Ambaſſa⯑dor has expreſſed his doubts of the Britiſh ſince⯑rity in our Negotiation with the moſt unchriſtian Republick lately ſet up at our door. What ſympathy, in that quarter, may have introduced a remonſtrance upon the want of faith in this na⯑tion, I cannot poſitively ſay. If it exiſts, it is in Turkiſh or Arabick, and poſſibly is not yet tranſ⯑lated. But none of the nations which compoſe the old Chriſtian world have I yet heard as calling upon us for thoſe judicial purgations and ordeals, by fire and water, which we have choſen to go through;—for the other great proof, by battle, we ſeem to decline.

For whoſe uſe, entertainment, or inſtruction, are all thoſe over-ſtrained and over-laboured pro⯑ceedings in Council, in Negotiation, and in Speeches in Parliament, intended? What Royal Cabinet is to be enriched with theſe high-finiſhed pictures of the arrogance of the ſworn enemies of Kings, and the meek patience of a Britiſh Adminiſtration? In what heart is it intended to kindle pity towards our multiplied mortifications and diſgraces? At beſt it is ſuper⯑fluous. What nation is unacquainted with the haughty diſpoſition of the common enemy of all [42] nations? It has been more than ſeen, it has been felt; not only by thoſe who have been the victims of their imperious rapacity, but, in a degree, by thoſe very powers who have conſented to eſtabliſh this robbery, that they might be able to copy it, and with impunity to make new uſurpations of their own. The King of Pruſſia has hypothecated in truſt to the Regicides his rich and fertile terri⯑tories on the Rhine, as a pledge of his zeal and af⯑fection to the cauſe of liberty and equality. He has ſeen them robbed with unbounded liberty, and with the moſt levelling equality. The woods are waſted; the country is ravaged; property is con⯑fiſcated; and the people are put to bear a double yoke, in the exactions of a tyrannical Government and in the contributions of an hoſtile irruption. Is it to ſatisfy the Court of Berlin, that the Court of London is to give the ſame ſort of pledge of it's ſincerity and good faith to the French Directory? It is not that heart full of ſenſibility,—it is not Lucheſini, the Miniſter of his Pruſſian Majeſty, the late ally of England, and the preſent ally of it's enemy, who has demanded this pledge of our ſincerity, as the price of the renewal of the long leaſe of his ſincere friendſhip to this kingdom.

It is not to our enemy, the now faithful ally of Regicide, late the faithful ally of Great Britain, the Catholick King, that we addreſs our doleful [43] lamentation: It is not to the Prince of Peace, whoſe declaration of war was one of the firſt auſpicious omens of general tranquillity, which our dove-like Ambaſſador, with the olive branch in his beak, was ſaluted with at his entrance into the ark of clean birds at Paris.

Surely it is not to the Tetrarch of Sardinia, now the faithful ally of a power who has ſeized upon all his fortreſſes, and confiſcated the oldeſt dominions of his houſe; it is not to this once powerful, once reſpected, and once cheriſhed ally of Great Britain, that we mean to prove the ſincerity of the peace which we offered to make at his expence. Or is it to him we are to prove the arrogance of the power who, under the name of friend, oppreſſes him, and the poor remains of his ſubjects, with all the ferocity of the moſt cruel enemy?

It is not to Holland, under the name of an ally, laid under a permanent military contribution, filled with their double garriſon of barbarous Ja⯑cobin troops, and ten times more barbarous Ja⯑cobin clubs and aſſemblies, that we find ourſelves obliged to give this pledge.

Is it to Genoa, that we make this kind promiſe; a ſtate which the Regicides were to defend in a favourable neutrality, but whoſe neutrality has [44] been, by the gentle influence of Jacobin authority, forced into the trammels of an alliance; whoſe al⯑liance has been ſecured by the admiſſion of French garri [...]ons; and whoſe peace has been for ever ra⯑tified by a forced declaration of war againſt our⯑ſelves?

It is not the Grand Duke of Tuſcany who claims this Declaration; not the Grand Duke, who for his early ſincerity, for his love of peace, and for his entire confidence in the amity of the aſſaſſins of his Houſe, has been complimented in the Bri⯑tiſh Parliament with the name of "the wiſeſt So⯑vereign in Europe:"—It is not this pacifick Solo⯑mon, or his philoſophick cudgelled Miniſtry, cudgelled by Engliſh and by French, whoſe wiſ⯑dom and philoſophy between them, have placed Leghorn in the hands of the enemy of the Auſ⯑trian family, and driven the only profitable commerce of Tuſcany from it's only port. It is not this Sovereign, a far more able Stateſman than any of the Medici in whoſe chair he ſits; it is not the philoſopher Carletti, more ably ſpeculative than Galileo, more profoundly politick than Machiavel, that call upon us ſo loudly to give the ſame happy proofs of the ſame good faith to the Republick, always the ſame, always one and indiviſible.

[45]It is not Venice, whoſe principal cities the enemy has appropriated to himſelf, and ſcornfully deſired the State to indemnify itſelf from the Emperor, that we wiſh to convince of the pride and the deſpotiſm of an enemy, who loads us with his ſcoffs and buffets.

It is not for his Holineſs we intend this conſo⯑latory declaration of our own weakneſs and of the tyrannous temper of his grand enemy. That Prince has known both the one and the other from the beginning. The artiſts of the French Revolution, had given their very firſt eſſays and ſketches of robbery and deſolation againſt his territories, in a far more cruel "murdering piece" than had ever entered into the imagination of painter or poet. Without ceremony, they tore from his cheriſhing arms, the poſſeſſions which he held for five hun⯑dred years, undiſturbed by all the ambition of all the ambitious Monarchs who, during that period, have reigned in France. Is it to him, in whoſe wrong we have in our late negotiation ceded his now unhappy countries near the Rhine, lately amongſt the moſt flouriſhing (perhaps the moſt flouriſhing for their extent) of all the countries upon earth, that we are to prove the ſincerity of our reſolu⯑tion to make peace with the Republick of bar⯑bariſm? That venerable Potentate and Pontiff, is [46] ſunk deep into the vale of years; he is half diſarm⯑ed by his peaceful character; his dominions are more than half diſarmed by a peace of two hundred years, defended as they were, not by force but by reverence; yet in all theſe ſtraits, we ſee him diſ⯑play, amidſt the recent ruins and the new deface⯑ments of his plundered capital, along with the mild and decorated piety of the modern, all the ſpirit and magnanimity of ancient Rome? Does he, who, though himſelf unable to defend them, nobly re⯑fuſed to receive pecuniary compenſations for the pro⯑tection he owed to his people of Avignon, Carpen⯑tras, and the Venaiſin;—does he want proofs of our good diſpoſition to deliver over that people, with⯑out any ſecurity for them, or any compenſation to their Sovereign, to this cruel enemy? Does he want to be ſatisfied of the ſincerity of our humiliation to France, who has ſeen his free, fertile and happy city and ſtate of Bologna, the cradle of regenerated law, the ſeat of ſciences and of arts, ſo hideouſly metamorphoſed, whilſt he was crying to Great Britain for aid, and offering to purchaſe that aid at any price? Is it him, who ſees that choſen ſpot of plenty and delight converted into a Jacobin fe⯑rocious Republick, dependent on the homicides of France? Is it him, who, from the miracles of his beneficent induſtry, has done a work which defied the power of the Roman Emperors, though [47] with an enthralled world to labour for them; is it him, who has drained and cultivated the Pontine Marſhes, that we are to ſatisfy of our cordial ſpirit of conciliation, with thoſe who, in their equity, are reſtoring Holland again to the Seas, whoſe maxims poiſon more than the exhalations of the moſt deadly fens, and who turn all the fertilities of Nature and of Art into an howling deſert? Is it to him, that we are to demonſtrate the good faith of our ſubmiſſions to the cannibal Republick; to him who is commanded to deliver up into their hands An⯑cona and Civita Vecchia, ſeats of commerce, raiſed by the wiſe and liberal labours and expences of the preſent and late Pontiffs; ports not more belonging to the Eccleſiaſtical State than to the commerce of Great Britain; thus wreſting from his hands the power of the keys of the centre of Italy, as be⯑fore they had taken poſſeſſion of the keys of the northern part, from the hands of the unhappy King of Sardinia, the natural ally of England? Is it to him we are to prove our good faith in the peace which we are ſoliciting to receive from the hands of his and our robbers, the enemies of all arts, all ſciences, all civilization, and all com⯑merce?

Is it to the Ciſpadane or to the Tranſpadane Re⯑publicks, which have been forced to bow under the [48] galling yoke of French liberty, that we addreſs all theſe pledges of our ſincerity and love of peace with their unnatural parents?

Are we by this declaration to ſatisfy the King of Naples whom we have left to ſtruggle as he can, after our abdication of Corſica, and the flight of the whole naval force of England out of the whole circuit of the Mediterranean, aban⯑doning our allies, our commerce, and the ho⯑nour of a nation, once the protectreſs of all other nations, becauſe ſtrengthened by the indepen⯑dence, and enriched by the commerce of them all? By the expreſs proviſions of a recent treaty, we had engaged with the King of Naples to keep a naval force in the Mediterranean. But, good God! was a treaty at all neceſſary for this? The uniform policy of this kingdom as a State, and eminently ſo as a commercial State, has at all times led us to keep a powerful ſquadron and a commodious naval ſtation in that central ſea, which borders upon, and which connects, a far greater number and variety of States, European, Aſiatick, and African, than any other. Without ſuch a naval force, France muſt become deſpotick miſtreſs of that ſea, and of all the countries whoſe ſhores it waſhes. Our commerce muſt become vaſſal to her, and dependent on her will. Since [49] we are come no longer to truſt to our force in arms, but to our dexterity in negotiation, and begin to pay a deſperate court to a proud and coy uſurpa⯑tion, and have finally ſent an Ambaſſador to the Bourbon Regicides at Paris; the King of Naples, who ſaw, that no reliance was to be placed on our engagements, or on any pledge of our adhe⯑rence to our neareſt and deareſt intereſts, has been obliged to ſend his Ambaſſador alſo to join the reſt of the ſqualid tribe of the repreſentatives of de⯑graded Kings. This Monarch, ſurely, does not want any proof of the ſincerity of our amicable diſpoſitions to that amicable Republick, into whoſe arms he has been given by our deſertion of him.

To look to the powers of the North, it is not to the Daniſh Ambaſſador, inſolently treated, in his own character and in ours, that we are to give proofs of the Regicide arrogance, and of our diſ⯑poſition to ſubmit to it.

With regard to Sweden, I cannot ſay much. The French influence is ſtruggling with her inde⯑pendence; and they who conſider the manner in which the Ambaſſador of that Power was treat⯑ed not long ſince at Paris, and the manner in which the father of the preſent King of Sweden (himſelf the victim of Regicide principles and [50] paſſions) would have looked on the preſent aſſaſ⯑ſins of France, will not be very prompt to believe that the young King of Sweden has made this kind of requiſition to the King of Great Britain, and has given this kind of auſpice of his new go⯑vernment.

I ſpeak laſt of the moſt important of all. It certainly was not the late Empreſs of Ruſſia at whoſe inſtance we have given this pledge. It is not the new Emperour, the inheritour of ſo much glory, and placed in a ſituation of ſo much deli⯑cacy and difficulty for the preſervation of that in⯑heritance, who calls on England, the natural ally of his dominions, to deprive herſelf of her power of action, and to bind herſelf to France. France at no time, and in none of it's faſhions, leaſt of all in it's laſt, has been ever looked upon as the friend either of Ruſſia or of Great Britain. Every thing good, I truſt, is to be expected from this Prince, whatever may be, without authority, given out of an influence over his mind poſſeſſed by that only Potentate, from whom he has any thing to ap⯑prehend, or with whom he has much even to diſcuſs.

This Sovereign knows, I have no doubt, and feels, on what ſort of bottom is to be laid the foundation of a Ruſſian Throne. He knows what a rock of [51] native granite is to form the pedeſtal of his ſta⯑tue, who is to emulate Peter the Great. His re⯑nown will be in continuing with eaſe and ſafety, what his predeceſſor was obliged to atchieve through mighty ſtruggles. He is ſenſible, that his buſineſs is not to innovate, but to ſecure and to eſtabliſh; that reformations at this day are attempts at beſt of ambiguous utility. He will revere his father with the piety of a ſon; but in his government he will imitate the policy of his mother. His father, with many exITEMent qualities, had a ſhort reign; be⯑cauſe, being a native Ruſſian, he was unfortu⯑nately adviſed to act in the ſpirit of a foreigner. His mother reigned over Ruſſia three and thirty years with the greateſt glory; becauſe, with the diſadvantage of being a foreigner born, ſhe made herſelf a Ruſſian. A wiſe Prince like the preſent will improve his country; but it will be cautiouſly and progreſſively, upon it's own native ground-work of religion, manners, habitudes, and alliances. If I prognoſticate right, it is not the Emperour of Ruſſia that ever will call for extravagant proofs of our deſire to reconcile ourſelves to the irrecon⯑cileable enemy of all Thrones.

I do not know why I ſhould not include Ame⯑rica among the European Powers, becauſe ſhe is of European origin; and has not yet, like France, [52] destroyed all traces of manners, laws, opinions, and uſages which ſhe drew from Europe. As long as that Europe ſhall have any poſſeſſions either in the ſouthern or the northern parts of that Ame⯑rica, even ſeparated as it is by the ocean, it muſt be conſidered as a part of the European ſyſtem. It is not America, menaced with internal ruin from the attempts to plant Jacobiniſm inſtead of Liberty in that country; it is not America, whoſe independence is directly attacked by the French, the enemies of the independence of all nations, that calls upon us to give ſecurity by diſarming ourſelves in a treacherous peace. By ſuch a peace, we ſhall deliver the Americans, their liberty, and their order, without reſource, to the mercy of their imperious allies, who will have peace or neutrality with no ſtate, which is not ready to join her in war againſt England.

Having run round the whole circle of the Euro⯑pean ſyſtem wherever it acts, I muſt affirm, that all the foreign Powers who are not leagued with France for the utter deſtruction of all balance through Europe and throughout the world, de⯑mand other aſſurances from this kingdom than are given in that Declaration. They require aſſurances, not of the ſincerity of our good diſpoſitions towards the uſurpation in France, but of our affection to⯑wards [53] the College of the antient States of Europe, and pledges of our conſtancy, our fidelity, and of our fortitude in reſiſting to the laſt the power that menaces them all. The apprehenſion from which they wiſh to be delivered cannot be from any thing they dread in the ambition of England. Our power muſt be their ſtrength. They hope more from us than they fear. I am ſure the only ground of their hope, and of our hope, is in the greatneſs of mind hitherto ſhewn by the people of this nation, and it's adherence to the unalterable principles of it's antient policy, whatever Government may finally prevail in France. I have entered into this detail of the wiſhes and expectations of the European Powers, in order to point out more clearly, not ſo much what their diſpoſition, as (a conſideration of far greater importance) what their ſituation de⯑mands, according as that ſituation is related to the Regicide Republick and to this Kingdom.

Then if it is not to ſatisfy the foreign Powers we make this aſſurance, to what Power at home is it that we pay all this humiliating court? Not to the old Whigs or to the antient Tories of this Kingdom; if any memory of ſuch antient diviſions ſtill exiſts amongſt us. To which of the princi⯑ples of theſe parties is this aſſurance agreeable? Is it to the Whigs we are to recommend the aggran⯑diſement [54] of France, and the ſubverſion of the balance of power? Is it to the Tories we are to re⯑commend our eagerneſs to cement ourſelves with the enemies of Royalty and Religion? But if theſe parties, which by their diſſentions have ſo often diſtracted the Kingdom, which by their union have once ſaved it, and which by their colliſion and mutual reſiſtance, have preſerved the variety of this Conſtitution in it's unity, be (as I believe they are) nearly extinct by the growth of new ones, which have their roots in the preſent circumſtances of the times—I wiſh to know, to which of theſe new deſcriptions this Declaration is addreſſed? It can hardly be to thoſe perſons, who, in the new diſtribution of parties, conſider the conſervation in England of the antient order of things, as neceſ⯑ſary to preſerve order every where elſe, and who regard the general conſervation of order in other countries, as reciprocally neceſſary to preſerve the ſame ſtate of things in thoſe Iſlands. That party never can wiſh to ſee Great Britain pledge herſelf to give the lead and the ground of advantage and ſuperiority to the France of to-day, in any treaty which is to ſettle Europe. I inſiſt upon it, that ſo far from expecting ſuch an engagement, they are generally ſtupefied and confounded with it. That the other party which demands great changes here, and is ſo pleaſed to ſee them every where elſe, [55] which party I call Jacobin, that this faction does from the bottom of it's heart, approve the declara⯑tion, and does erect it's creſt upon the engagement, there can be little doubt. To them it may be ad⯑dreſſed with propriety, for it anſwers their purpoſes in every point.

The party in Oppoſition within the Houſe of Lords and Commons, it is irreverent, and half a breach of privilege (far from my thoughts) to conſi⯑der as Jacobin. This party has always denied the exiſtence of ſuch a faction; and has treated the machinations of thoſe, whom you and I call Jaco⯑bins, as ſo many forgeries and fictions of the Mini⯑ſter and his adherents, to find a pretext for deſtroy⯑ing freedom, and ſetting up an arbitrary power in this Kingdom. However, whether this Minority has a leaning towards the French ſyſtem, or only a charitable toleration of thoſe who lean that way, it is certain, that they have always attacked the ſince⯑rity of the Miniſter in the ſame modes, and on the very ſame grounds, and nearly in the ſame terms, with the Directory. It muſt, therefore, be at the tri⯑bunal of the Minority, (from the whole tenour of the ſpeech) that the Miniſter appeared to conſider himſelf obliged to purge himſelf of duplicity. It was at their bar that he held up his hand. It was on their ſellette that he ſeemed to anſwer [56] interrogatories; it was on their principles that he defended his whole conduct. They certainly take what the French call the haute du pavé. They have loudly called for the negotiation. It was accorded to them. They engaged their ſupport of the war with vigour, in caſe Peace was not granted on honourable terms. Peace was not granted on any terms, honourable or ſhameful. Whether theſe judges, few in number but powerful in juriſdiction, are ſatisfied; whether they to whom this new pledge is hypothecated, have redeemed their own; whether they have given one particle more of their ſupport to Miniſtry, or even favour⯑ed them with their good opinion, or their candid conſtruction, I leave it to thoſe, who recollect that memorable debate, to determine.

The fact is, that neither this Declaration, nor the negotiation which is it's ſubject, could ſerve any one good purpoſe, foreign or domeſtick; it could conduce to no end either with regard to allies or neutrals. It tends neither to bring back the mi [...]led; nor to give courage to the fearful; nor to animate and confirm thoſe, who are hearty and zealous in the cauſe.

I hear it has been ſaid (though I can ſcarcely believe it) that a diſtinguiſhed perſon in an Aſ⯑ſembly, [57] where if there be leſs of the torrent and tempeſt of eloquence, more guarded expreſſion is to be expected, that, indeed, there was no juſt ground of hope in this buſineſs from the begin⯑ning.

It is plain, that this noble perſon, however converſant in negotiation, having been employ⯑ed in no leſs than four embaſſies, and in two hemiſpheres, and in one of thoſe negotiations having fully experienced what it was to proceed to treaty without previous encouragement, was not at all conſulted in this experiment. For his Majeſty's principal Miniſter declared, on the very ſame day, in another Houſe, ‘his Ma⯑jeſty's deep and ſincere regret at it's unfortu⯑nate and abrupt termination, ſo different from the wiſhes and hopes that were entertained;’ —and in other parts of the ſpeech ſpeaks of this abrupt termination as a great diſappointment, and as a fall from ſincere endeavours and ſanguine expectation. Here are, indeed, ſenti⯑ments diametrically oppoſite, as to the hopes with which the negotiation was commenced and carried on, and what is curious is, the grounds of the hopes on the one ſide, and the deſpair on the other, are exactly the ſame. The logical conclusion from the common premiſes, is indeed in favour of the noble Lord, for they are agreed that the enemy was far from giving the leaſt de⯑gree [58] of countenance to any ſuch hopes; and that they proceeded, in ſpite of every diſcourage⯑ment which the enemy had thrown in their way. But there is another material point in which they do not ſeem to differ; that is to ſay, the reſult of the deſperate experiment of the noble Lord, and of the promiſing attempt of the Great Miniſter, in ſatisfying the people of England, and in cauſing diſcontent to the people of France; or, as the Miniſter expreſſes it, "in uniting England and in dividing France."

For my own part, though I perfectly agreed with the noble Lord, that the attempt was deſ⯑perate, ſo deſperate indeed, as to deſerve his name of an experiment, yet no fair man can poſ⯑ſibly doubt, that the Miniſter was perfectly ſin⯑cere in his proceeding, and that, from his ar⯑dent wiſhes for peace with the Regicides, he was led to conceive hopes which were founded rather in his vehement deſires than in any ra⯑tional ground of political ſpeculation. Con⯑vinced as I am of this, it had been better, in my humble opinion, that perſons of great name and authority had abſtained from thoſe topics which had been uſed to call the Miniſter's ſin⯑cerity into doubt, and had not adopted the ſen⯑timents of the Directory upon the ſubject of all our negotiations; for the noble Lord expreſsly [59] ſays, that the experiment was made for the ſa⯑tisfaction of the country. The Directory ſays exactly the ſame thing. Upon granting, in conſequence of our ſupplications, the paſſport to Lord Malmeſbury, in order to remove all ſort of hope from it's ſucceſs, they charged all our previous ſteps, even to that moment of ſub⯑miſſive demand to be admitted to their preſence, on duplicity and perfidy; and aſſumed, that the object of all the ſteps, we had taken was ‘that of juſtifying the continuance of the war in the eyes of the Engliſh nation, and of throw⯑ing all the odium of it upon the French: The Engliſh nation (ſaid they) ſupports impa⯑tiently the continuance of the war, and a reply muſt be made to it's complaints and it's re⯑proaches; the Parliament is about to be open⯑ed, and the mouths of the orators who will de⯑claim againſt the war muſt be ſhut; the demands for new taxes muſt be juſtified; and to obtain theſe reſults, it is neceſſary to be able to advance, that the French Government refuſes every reaſonable propoſition for peace.’ I am ſorry that the lan⯑guage of the friends to Miniſtry and the enemies to mankind ſhould be ſo much in uniſon.

As to the fact in which theſe parties are ſo well agreed, that the experiment ought to have been made for the ſatisfaction of this country, [60] (meaning the country of England) it were well to be wiſhed, that perſons of eminence would ceaſe to make themſelves repreſentatives of the people of England without a letter of attorney, or any other act of procuration. In legal con⯑ſtruction, the ſenſe of the people of England is to be collected from the Houſe of Commons; and, though I do not deny the poſſibility of an abuſe of this truſt as well as any other, yet I think, without the moſt weighty reaſons, and in the moſt urgent exigencies, it is highly dange⯑rous to ſuppoſe that the Houſe ſpeaks any thing contrary to the ſenſe of the people, or that the repreſentative is ſilent when the ſenſe of the con⯑ſtituent ſtrongly, decidedly, and upon long de⯑liberation, ſpeaks audibly upon any topic of moment. If there is a doubt, whether the Houſe of Commons repreſents perfectly the whole Com⯑mons of Great Britain, (I think there is none) there can be no queſtion but that the Lords and the Commons together repreſent the ſenſe of the whole people to the Crown, and to the world. Thus it is, when we ſpeak legally and conſtitu⯑tionally. In a great meaſure, it is equally true, when we ſpeak prudentially; but I do not pre⯑tend to aſſert, that there are no other principles to guide diſcretion than thoſe which are or can be fixed by ſome law, or ſome conſtitution; yet before the legally preſumed ſenſe of the people ſhould [61] be ſuperſeded by a ſuppoſition of one more real (as in all caſes, where a legal preſumption is to be aſcertained) ſome ſtrong proofs ought to exiſt of a contrary diſpoſition in the people at large, and ſome deciſive indications of their de⯑ſire upon this ſubject. There can be no queſ⯑tion, that previouſly to a direct meſſage from the Crown, neither Houſe of Parliament did in⯑dicate any thing like a wiſh for ſuch advances as we have made, or ſuch negotiations as we have carried on. The Parliament has aſſented to Miniſtry; it is not Miniſtry that has obeyed the impulſe of Parliament. The people at large have their organs through which they can ſpeak to Parliament and to the Crown by a reſpectful petition, and, though not with abſolute autho⯑rity, yet with weight, they can inſtruct their Re⯑preſentatives. The freeholders and other elec⯑tors in this kingdom have another, and a ſurer mode of expreſſing their ſentiments concerning the conduct which is held by Members of Par⯑liament. In the middle of theſe tranſactions, this laſt opportunity has been held out to them. In all theſe points of view, I poſitively aſſert, that the people have no where, and in no way, expreſſed their wiſh of throwing themſelves and their Sovereign at the feet of a wicked and ran⯑corous foe, to ſupplicate mercy, which, from the nature of that foe, and from the circum⯑ſtances [62] of affairs, we had no ſort of ground to expect. It is undoubtedly the buſineſs of Mi⯑niſters very much to conſult the inclinations of the people, but they ought to take great care that they do not receive that inclination from the few perſons who may happen to approach them. The petty intereſts of ſuch gentlemen, their low conceptions of things, their fears ariſ⯑ing from the danger to which the very arduous and critical ſituation of publick affairs may ex⯑poſe their places; their apprehenſions from the hazards to which the diſcontents of a few po⯑pular men at elections may expoſe their ſeats in Parliament; all theſe cauſes trouble and confuſe the repreſentations which they make to Mini⯑ſters of the real temper of the nation. If Mi⯑niſters, inſtead of following the great indica⯑tions of the Conſtitution, proceed on ſuch re⯑ports, they will take the whiſpers of a cabal for the voice of the people, and the counſels of imprudent timidity for the wiſdom of a nation.

I well remember, that when the fortune of the war began, and it began pretty early, to turn, as it is common and natural, we were de⯑jected by the loſſes that had been ſuſtained, and with the doubtful iſſue of the conteſts that were foreſeen. But not a word was uttered that ſup⯑poſed peace upon any proper terms, was in our [63] power, or therefore that it ſhould be in our de⯑ſire. As uſual, with or without reaſon, we cri⯑ticiſed the conduct of the war, and compared our fortunes with our meaſures. The maſs of the nation went no further. For I ſuppoſe that you always underſtood me as ſpeaking of that very preponderating part of the nation, which had always been equally adverſe to the French principles, and to the general progreſs of their Revolution throughout Europe; conſidering the final ſucceſs of their arms and the triumph of their principles as one and the ſame thing.

The firſt means that were uſed, by any one profeſſing our principles, to change the minds of this party upon that ſubject, appeared in a ſmall pamphlet circulated with conſiderable induſtry. It was commonly given to the noble perſon him⯑ſelf, who has paſſed judgment upon all hopes from negotiation, and juſtified our late abortive at⯑tempt only as an experiment made to ſatisfy the country; and yet that pamphlet led the way in endeavouring to diſſatisfy that very country with the continuance of the war, and to raiſe in the people the moſt ſanguine expectations from ſome ſuch courſe of negotiation as has been fa⯑tally purſued. This leads me to ſuppoſe (and I am glad to have reaſon for ſuppoſing) that there was no foundation for attributing the performance [64] in queſtion to that authour; but without mention⯑ing his name in the title-page, it paſſed for his, and does ſtill paſs uncontradicted. It was entitled "Remarks on the apparent Circumſtances of the War in the fourth Week of October, 1795."

This ſanguine little king's-fiſher (not preſcient of the ſtorm, as by his inſtinct he ought to be) appearing at that uncertain ſeaſon, before the riggs of Old Michaelmas were yet well compoſ⯑ed, and when the inclement ſtorms of winter were approaching, began to flicker over the ſeas and was buſy in building it's halcyon neſt as if the an⯑gry ocean had been ſoothed by the genial breath of May. Very unfortunately this auſpice was inſtant⯑ly followed by a ſpeech from the Throne, in the very ſpirit and principles of that pamphlet.

I ſay nothing of the newſpapers, which are undoubtedly in the intereſt, and which are ſup⯑poſed by ſome to be directly or indirectly under the influence of Miniſters, and which, with leſs au⯑thority than the pamphlet I ſpeak of, had indeed for ſome time before held a ſimilar language, in direct contradiction to their more early tone: in ſo much, that I can ſpeak it with a certain aſ⯑ſurance, that very many who wiſhed to Admi⯑niſtration as well as you and I do, thought that in giving their opinion in favour of this peace, [65] they followed the opinion of Miniſtry—they were conſcious that they did not lead it. My inference therefore is this, that the negotiation, whatever it's merits may be, in the general prin⯑ciple and policy of undertaking it, is, what every political meaſure in general ought to be, the ſole work of Adminiſtration; and that if [...]t was an experiment to ſatisfy any body, it was to ſatisfy thoſe, whom the Miniſters were in the daily habit of condemning, and by whom they were daily condemned; I mean, the Leaders of the Oppoſition in Parliament. I am certain that the Miniſters were then, and are now, inveſted with the fulleſt confidence of the major part of the nation, to purſue ſuch meaſures of peace or war as the nature of things ſhall ſuggeſt as moſt adapted to the publick ſafety. It is in this light therefore as a meaſure which ought to have been avoided, and ought not to be repeated, that I take the liberty of diſcuſſing the merits of this ſyſtem of Regicide Negotiations. It is not a matter of light experiment that leaves us where it found us. Peace or war are the great hinges upon which the very being of nations turns. Negotiations are the means of making peace or preventing war, and are therefore of more ſeri⯑ous importance than almoſt any ſingle event of war can poſſibly be.

[66]At the very outſet I do not heſitate to affirm, that this country in particular, and the publick law in general, have ſuffered more by this nego⯑tiation of experiment, than by all the battles together that we have loſt from the commence⯑ment of this century to this time, when it touches ſo nearly to it's cloſe. I therefore have the miſfortune not to coincide in opinion with the great Stateſman who ſet on foot a negotia⯑tion, as he ſaid, ‘in ſpite of the conſtant oppo⯑ſition he had met with from France.’ He admits, ‘that the difficulty in this negotiation became moſt ſeriouſly increaſed indeed, by the ſituation in which we were placed, and the manner in which alone the enemy would admit of a negotiation.’ This ſituation ſo deſcribed, and ſo truly deſcribed, rendered our ſolicitation not only degrading, but from the very outſet evidently hopeleſs.

I find it aſſerted, and even a merit taken for it, ‘that this country ſurmounted every diffi⯑culty of form and etiquette which the enemy had thrown in our way.’ An odd way of ſurmounting a difficulty by cowering under it! I find it aſſerted that an heroick reſolution had been taken, and avowed in Parliament, previous to this negotiation, ‘that no conſideration of etiquette ſhould ſtand in the way of it.’

[67]Etiquette, if I underſtand rightly the term, which in any extent is of modern uſage, had it's original application to thoſe ceremonial and formal obſervances practiſed at Courts, which had been eſtabliſhed by long uſage, in order to preſerve the ſovereign power from the rude in⯑truſion of licentious familiarity, as well as to preſerve Majeſty itſelf from a diſpoſition to con⯑ſult it's eaſe at the expence of it's dignity. The term came afterwards to have a greater la⯑titude, and to be employed to ſignify certain formal methods uſed in the tranſactions between ſovereign States.

In the more limited as well as in the larger ſenſe of the term, without knowing what the etiquette is, it is impoſſible to determine whe⯑ther it is a vain and captious punctilio, or a form neceſſary to preſerve decorum in character and order in buſineſs. I readily admit, that nothing tends to facilitate the iſſue of all pub⯑lic tranſactions more than a mutual diſpoſition in the parties treating, to wave all ceremony. But the uſe of this temporary ſuſpenſion of the recogniſed modes of reſpect conſiſts in it's being mutual, and in the ſpirit of conciliation in which all ceremony is laid aſide. On the contrary, when one of the parties to a treaty intrenches himſelf up to the chin in theſe ceremonies, and [68] will not, on his ſide, abate a ſingle punctilio, and that all the conceſſions are upon one ſide only, the party ſo conceding does by this act place him⯑ſelf in a relation of inferiority, and thereby fun⯑damentally ſubverts that equality which is of the very eſſence of all treaty.

After this formal act of degradation, it was but a matter of courſe, that gross inſult ſhould be offered to our Ambaſſador, and that he ſhould tamely ſubmit to it. He found himſelf provoked to complain of the atrocious libels againſt his publick character and his perſon, which appeared in a paper under the avowed patronage of that Government. The Regicide Directory, on this complaint, did not recog⯑niſe the paper; and that was all. They did not puniſh, they did not diſmiſs, they did not even reprimand the writer. As to our Ambaſ⯑ſador, this total want of reparation for the in⯑jury was paſſed by under the pretence of deſ⯑piſing it.

In this, but too ſerious buſineſs, it is not poſ⯑ſible here to avoid a ſmile. Contempt is not a thing to be deſpiſed. It may be borne with a calm and equal mind, but no man by lifting his head high can pretend that he does not per⯑ceive the ſcorns that are poured down upon [69] him from above. All theſe ſudden complaints of injury, and all theſe deliberate ſubmiſſions to it, are the inevitable conſequences of the ſitua⯑tion in which we had placed ourſelves; a ſituation wherein the inſults were ſuch as nature would not enable us to bear, and circumſtances would not permit us to reſent.

It was not long, however, after this contempt of contempt upon the part of our Ambaſſador (who by the way repreſented his Sovereign) that a new object was furniſhed for diſplaying ſenti⯑ments of the ſame kind, though the caſe was infinitely aggravated. Not the Ambaſſador, but the King himſelf was libelled and inſulted; libelled, not by a creature of the Directory, but by the Directory itſelf. At leaſt ſo Lord Malmeſ⯑bury underſtood it, and ſo he anſwered it in his note of the 12th December, 1796, in which he ſays, ‘With regard to the offenſive and inju⯑rious inſinuations which are contained in that paper, and which are only calculated to throw new obſtacles in the way of that accommo⯑dation, which the French Government pro⯑feſs to deſire, THE KING HAS DEEMED IT FAR BENEATH HIS DIGNITY to permit an anſwer to be made to them on his part, in any manner whatſoever.’

[70]I am of opinion, that if his Majeſty had kept aloof from that waſh and off-ſcouring of every thing that is low and barbarous in the world, it might be well thought unworthy of his dignity to take notice of ſuch ſcurrilities. They muſt be conſidered as much the natural expreſſion of that kind of animal, as it is the expreſſion of the feelings of a dog to bark; but when the King had been adviſed to recogniſe not only the monſtrous compoſition as a Sovereign Power, but, in conduct, to admit ſomething in it like a ſuperiority, when the Bench of Regicide was made, at leaſt, co-ordinate with his Throne, and raiſed upon a platform full as elevated, this treatment could not be paſſed by under the ap⯑pearance of deſpiſing it. It would not, indeed, have been proper to keep up a war of the ſame kind, but an immediate, manly, and decided reſentment ought to have been the conſequence. We ought not to have waited for the diſgrace⯑ful diſmiſſal of our Ambaſſador. There are caſes in which we may pretend to ſleep: but the wittol rule has ſome ſenſe in it, Non omnibus dormio. We might, however, have ſeemed ig⯑norant of the affront; but what was the fact? Did we diſſemble or paſs it by in ſilence? When dignity is talked of, a language which I did not expect to hear in ſuch a tranſaction, I muſt ſay what all the world muſt feel, that it [71] was not for the King's dignity to notice this inſult, and not to reſent it. This mode of pro⯑ceeding is formed on new ideas of the corre⯑ſpondence between Sovereign Powers.

This was far from the only ill effect of the policy of degradation. The ſtate of inferiority in which we were placed in this vain attempt at treaty, drove us headlong from errour into errour, and led us to wander far away, not only from all the paths which have been beaten in the old courſe of political communication between man⯑kind, but out of the ways even of the moſt common prudence. Againſt all rules, after we had met nothing but rebuffs in return to all our propoſals, we made two confidential communica⯑tions to thoſe in whom we had no confidence, and who repoſed no confidence in us. What was worſe, we were fully aware of the madneſs of the ſtep we were taking. Ambaſſadors are not ſent to a hoſtile power, perſevering in ſentiments of hoſtility, to make candid, confidential, and amicable communications. Hitherto the world has conſidered it as the duty of an Ambaſſador in ſuch a ſituation to be cautious, guarded, dex⯑terous, and circumſpect. It is true that mutual confidence and common intereſt, diſpenſe with all rules, ſmooth the rugged way, remove every obſtacle, and make all things plain and level. When, in the laſt century, Temple and [72] De Witt negotiated the famous Triple Alliance, their candour, their freedom, and the moſt con⯑fidential diſcloſures, were the reſult of true po⯑licy. Accordingly, in ſpite of all the dilatory forms of the complex Government of the United Provinces, the treaty was concluded in three days. It did not take a much longer time to bring the ſame State (that of Holland) through a ſtill more complicated tranſaction, that of the Grand Alliance. But in the preſent caſe, this un⯑paralleled candour, this unpardonable want of reſerve, produced what might have been expect⯑ed from it, the moſt ſerious evils. It inſtructed the enemy in the whole plan of our demands and conceſſions. It made the moſt fatal diſcoveries.

And firſt, it induced us to lay down the baſis of a treaty which itſelf had nothing to reſt upon; it ſeems, we thought we had gained a great point in getting this baſis admitted—that is, a baſis of mutual compenſation and exchange of conqueſts. If a diſpoſition to peace, and with any reaſonable aſſurance, had been previ⯑ouſly indicated, ſuch a plan of arrangement might with propriety and ſafety be propoſed, becauſe theſe arrangements were not, in effect, to make the baſis, but a part of the ſuperſtruc⯑ture of the fabrick of pacification. The order of things would thus be reverſed. The mutual diſpoſition to peace, would form the reaſonable [73] baſe upon which the ſcheme of compenſation, upon one ſide or the other, might be conſtruct⯑ed. This truly fundamental baſe being once laid, all differences ariſing from the ſpirit of huckſtering and barter might be eaſily adjuſted. If the reſtoration of peace, with a view to the eſtabliſhment of a fair balance of power in Eu⯑rope, had been made the real baſis of the treaty, the reciprocal value of the compenſations could not be eſtimated according to their proportion to each other, but according to their propor⯑tionate relation to that end: to that great end the whole would be ſubſervient. The effect of the treaty would be in a manner ſecured before the detail of particulars was begun, and for a plain reaſon, becauſe the hoſtile ſpirit on both ſides had been conjured down; but if in the full fury, and unappeaſed rancour of war, a little traffick is attempted, it is eaſy to divine what muſt be the conſequence to thoſe who endea⯑vour to open that kind of petty commerce.

To illuſtrate what I have ſaid, I go back no further than to the two laſt Treaties of Paris, and to the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, which preceded the firſt of theſe two Treaties of Paris by about fourteen or fifteen years. I do not mean here to criticiſe any of them. My opi⯑nions upon ſome particulars of the Treaty of [74] Paris in 1763, are publiſhed in a pamphlet,^* which your recollection will readily bring into your view. I recur to them only to ſhew that their baſis had not been, and never could have been a mere dealing of truck and barter, but that the parties being willing, from common fatigue or common ſuffering, to put an end to a war, the firſt object of which had either been obtained or deſpaired of, the leſſer objects were not thought worth the price of further conteſt. The parties underſtanding one ano⯑ther, ſo much was given away without conſi⯑dering from whoſe budget it came, not as the value of the objects, but as the value of peace to the parties might require. At the laſt treaty of Paris the ſubjugation of America being de⯑ſpaired of on the part of Great Britain, and the independence of America being looked upon as ſecure upon the part of France, the main cauſe of the war was removed; and then the conqueſts which France had made upon us (for we had made none of importance upon her) were ſur⯑rendered with ſufficient facility. Peace was re⯑ſtored as peace. In America the parties ſtood as they were poſſeſſed. A limit was to be ſet⯑tled, but ſettled as a limit to ſecure that peace, and not at all on a ſyſtem of equivalents, for which, as we then ſtood with the United States, there were little or no materials.

[75]At the preceding treaty of Paris, I mean that of 1763, there was nothing at all on which to fix a baſis of compenſation from reciprocal ceſſion of conqueſts. They were all on one ſide. The queſtion with us was not what we were to receive, and on what conſideration, but what we were to keep for indemnity, or to cede for peace. Accordingly no place being left for barter, ſa⯑crifices were made on our ſide to peace; and we ſurrendered to the French their moſt valua⯑ble poſſeſſions in the Weſt Indies without any equivalent. The reſt of Europe fell ſoon after into it's antient order; and the German war ended exactly where it had begun.

The treaty of Aix la Chapelle was built upon a ſimilar baſis. All the conqueſts in Europe had been made by France. She had ſubdued the Auſtrian Netherlands, and broken open the gates of Holland. We had taken nothing in the Weſt Indies, and Cape Breton was a trifling buſineſs indeed. France gave up all for peace. The allies had given up all that was ceded at Utrecht. Louis the Fourteenth made all, or nearly all, the ceſſions at Ryſwick, and at Ni⯑meguen. In all thoſe treaties, and in all the preceding, as well as in the others which inter⯑vened, the queſtion never had been that of bar⯑ter. The balance of power had been ever aſ⯑ſumed as the known common law of Europe at [76] all times, and by all powers: the queſtion had only been (as it muſt happen) on the more or leſs inclination of that balance.

This general balance was regarded in four principal points of view:—the GREAT MIDDLE BALANCE, which comprehended Great Britain, France, and Spain; the BALANCE OF THE NORTH; the BALANCE, external and internal, of GERMANY; and the BALANCE OF ITALY. In all thoſe ſyſtems of balance, England was the power to whoſe cuſtody it was thought it might be moſt ſafely committed.

France, as ſhe happened to ſtand, ſecured the balance, or endangered it. Without queſtion ſhe had been long the ſecurity for the balance of Germany, and under her auſpices the ſyſtem, if not formed, had been at leaſt perfected. She was ſo in ſome meaſure with regard to Italy, more than occaſionally. She had a clear intereſt in the balance of the North, and had endea⯑voured to preſerve it. But when we began to treat with the preſent France, or more pro⯑perly to proſtrate ourſelves to her, and to try if we ſhould be admitted to ranſom our allies, upon a ſyſtem of mutual conceſſion and com⯑penſation, we had not one of the uſual facilities. For firſt, we had not the ſmalleſt indication of a deſire for peace on the part of the enemy; but [77] rather the direct contrary. Men do not make ſacrifices to obtain what they do not deſire: and as for the balance of power, it was ſo far from being admitted by France either on the general ſyſtem, or with regard to the particular ſyſtems that I have mentioned, that in the whole body of their authorized or encouraged reports and diſcuſſions upon the theory of the diplomatic ſyſtem, they conſtantly rejected the very idea of the balance of power, and treated it as the true cauſe of all the wars and calamities that had afflicted Europe: and their practice was correſpondent to the dogmatick poſitions they had laid down. The Empire and the Papacy it was their great object to deſtroy, and this now openly avowed and ſtedfaſtly acted upon, might have been diſcerned with very little acuteneſs of ſight, from the very firſt dawnings of the Re⯑volution, to be the main drift of their policy. For they profeſſed a reſolution to deſtroy every thing which can hold States together by the tie of opinion.

Exploding, therefore, all forts of balances, they avow their deſign to erect themſelves into a new deſcription of Empire, which is not grounded on any balance, but forms a ſort of impious hierarchy, of which France is to be the head and the guardian. The law of this their Empire is any thing rather than the pub⯑lick [78] law of Europe, the antient conventions of it's ſeveral States, or the antient opinions which aſſign to them ſuperiority or pre-eminence of any ſort, or any other kind of connexion in vir⯑tue of antient relations. They permit, and that is all, the temporary exiſtence of ſome of the old communities; but whilſt they give to theſe to⯑lerated States this temporary reſpite in order to ſecure them in a condition of real dependance on themſelves, they inveſt them on every ſide by a body of Republicks, formed on the model, and dependent oſtenſibly, as well as ſubſtantially, on the will, of the mother Republick, to which they owe their origin. Theſe are to be ſo many gar⯑riſons to check and controul the States, which are to be permitted to remain on the old model, until they are ripe for a change. It is in this manner that France, on her new ſyſtem, means to form an univerſal empire, by producing an uni⯑verſal revolution. By this means, forming a new code of communities according to what ſhe calls the natural rights of man and of States, ſhe pre⯑tends to ſecure eternal peace to the world, gua⯑ranteed by her generoſity and juſtice, which are to grow with the extent of her power. To talk of the balance of power to the governors of ſuch a country, was a jargon which they could not underſtand even through an interpreter. Before men can tranſact any affair, they muſt have a common language to ſpeak, and ſome [79] common recogniſed principles on which they can argue, otherwiſe all is croſs-purpoſe and confuſion. It was, therefore, an eſſential pre⯑liminary to the whole proceeding, to fix, whe⯑ther the balance of power, the liberties and laws of the Empire, and the treaties of different bel⯑ligerent powers in paſt times, when they put an end to hoſtilities, were to be conſidered as the baſis of the preſent negotiation.

The whole of the enemy's plan was known when Lord Malmeſbury was ſent with his ſcrap of equivalents to Paris. Yet, in this unfortunate attempt at negotiation, inſtead of fixing theſe points, and aſſuming the balance of power and the peace of Europe as the baſis to which all ceſſions on all ſides were to be ſubſervient, our ſolicitor for peace was directed to reverſe that order. He was directed to make mutual con⯑ceſſions, on a mere compariſon of their market⯑able value, the baſe of treaty. The balance of power was to be thrown in as an inducement, and a ſort of make-weight, to ſupply the mani⯑feſt deficiency which muſt ſtare him and the world in the face, between thoſe objects which he was to require the enemy to ſurrender, and thoſe which he had to offer as a fair equivalent.

To give any force to this inducement, and to make it anſwer even the ſecondary purpoſe of [80] equalizing equivalents having in themſelves no natural proportionate value, it ſuppoſed, that the enemy, contrary to the moſt notorious fact, did admit this balance of power to be of ſome value, great or ſmall; whereas it is plain, that in the enemy's eſtimate of things, the conſide⯑ration of the balance of power, as we have ſaid before, was ſo far from going in diminution of the value of what the Directory was deſired to ſurrender, or of giving an additional price to our objects offered in exchange, that the hope of the utter deſtruction of that balance became, a new motive to the junto of Re⯑gicides for preſerving, as a means for realizing that hope, what we wiſhed them to abandon.

Thus ſtood the baſis of the treaty on lay⯑ing the firſt ſtone of the foundation. At the very beſt, upon our ſide, the queſtion ſtood upon a mere naked bargain and ſale. Unthink⯑ing people here triumphed when they thought they had obtained it, whereas when obtained as a baſis of a treaty, it was juſt the worſt we could poſſibly have choſen. As to our offer to cede a moſt unprofitable, and, indeed, beggarly charge⯑able counting-houſe or two in the Eaſt-Indies, we ought not to preſume that they would con⯑ſider this as any thing elſe than a mockery. As to any thing of real value, we had nothing under [81] Heaven to offer (for which we were not ourſelves in a very dubious ſtruggle) except the Iſland of Martinico only. When this object was to be weighed againſt the directorial conqueſts, merely as an object of a value at market, the principle of barter became perfectly ridiculous; a ſingle quarter in the ſingle city of Amſterdam, was worth ten Martinicos; and would have ſold for many more years purchaſe in any market overt in Europe. How was this groſs and glaring de⯑fect in the objects of exchange to be ſupplied? —It was to be made up by argument. And what was that argument?—The extreme utility of poſſeſſions in the Weſt-Indies to the augmenta⯑tion of the naval power of France. A very cu⯑rious topick of argument to be propoſed and in⯑ſiſted on by an Ambaſſador of Great Britain. It is directly and plainly this—"Come, we know that of all things you wiſh a naval power, and it is natural you ſhould, who wiſh to de⯑ſtroy the very ſources of the Britiſh greatneſs, to overpower our marine, to deſtroy our commerce, to eradicate our foreign influence, and to lay us open to an invaſion, which, at one ſtroke, may complete our ſervitude and ruin, and expunge us from among the nations of the earth. Here I have it in my budget, the infallible arcanum for that purpoſe. You are but novices in the art of naval reſources. Let you have the Weſt-Indies [82] back, and your maritime preponderance is ſe⯑cured, for which you would do well to be mo⯑derate in your demands upon the Auſtrian Ne⯑therlands."

Under any circumſtances, this is a moſt ex⯑traordinary topick of argument; but it is ren⯑dered by much the more unaccountable, when we are told, that if the war has been diverted from the great object of eſtabliſhing ſociety and good order in Europe by deſtroying the uſur⯑pation in France; this diverſion was made to increaſe the naval reſources and power of Great-Britain, and to lower, if not annihilate, thoſe of the marine of France. I leave all this to the very ſerious reflexion of every Engliſhman.

This baſis was no ſooner admitted, than the rejection of a treaty upon that ſole foundation was a thing of courſe. The enemy did not think it worthy of a diſcuſſion, as in truth it was not; and immediately, as uſual, they began, in the moſt opprobrious, and moſt inſolent manner, to queſtion our ſincerity and good faith. Whereas, in truth, there was no one ſymptom wanting of openneſs and fair dealing. What could be more fair than to lay open to an enemy all that you wiſhed to obtain, and the price you meant to pay for it, and to deſire him to imitate your in⯑genuous [83] proceeding, and in the ſame manner to open his honeſt heart to you. Here was no want of fair dealing, but there was too evidently a fault of another kind; there was much weak⯑neſs—there was an eager and impotent deſire of aſſociating with this unſocial power, and of at⯑tempting the connexion by any means, however manifeſtly feeble and ineffectual. The event was committed to chance; that is, to ſuch a ma⯑nifeſtation of the deſire of France for peace, as would induce the Directory to forget the advan⯑tages they had in the ſyſtem of barter. Accord⯑ingly the general deſire for ſuch a peace was tri⯑umphantly reported from the moment that Lord Malmeſbury had ſet his foot on ſhore at Calais.

It has been ſaid, that the Directory was com⯑pelled againſt it's will to accept the baſis of barter (as if it that had tended to accelerate the work of pacification!) by the voice of all France. Had this been the caſe, the Directors would have continued to liſten to that voice to which it ſeems they were ſo obedient: they would have proceeded with the negotiation upon that baſis. But the fact is, that they inſtantly broke up the negotiation, as ſoon as they had obliged our Ambaſſador to violate all the principles of trea⯑ty, and weakly, raſhly, and unguardedly, to ex⯑poſe, without any counter-propoſition, the whole [84] of our project with regard to ourſelves and our allies, and without holding out the ſmalleſt hope that they would admit the ſmalleſt part of our pretenſions.

When they had thus drawn from us all that they could draw out, they expelled Lord Malmeſbury, and they appealed for the pro⯑priety of their conduct, to that very France which, we thought proper to ſuppoſe, had driven them to this fine conceſſion; and I do not find, that in either diviſion of the family of thieves, the younger branch, or the elder, or in any other body whatſoever, there was any indignation ex⯑cited, or any tumult raiſed; or any thing like the virulence of oppoſition which was ſhewn to the King's Miniſters here, on account of that tranſaction.

Notwithſtanding all this, it ſeems a hope is ſtill entertained, that the Directory will have that tenderneſs for the carcaſe of their country, by whoſe very diſtemper, and on whoſe feſter⯑ing wounds, like vermin, they are fed; that theſe pious patriots will of themſelves come into a more moderate and reaſonable way of thinking and acting. In the name of wonder, what has inſpired our Miniſtry with this hope any more than with their former expectations?

[85]Do theſe hopes only ariſe from continual diſ⯑appointment? Do they grow out of the uſual grounds of deſpair? What is there to encourage them, in the conduct, or even in the declarations of the Ruling Powers in France, from the firſt formation of their miſchievous Republick to the hour in which I write? Is not the Directory com⯑poſed of the ſame junto? Are they not the iden⯑tical men, who, from the baſe and ſordid vices which belonged to their original place and ſitua⯑tion, aſpired to the dignity of crimes; and from the dirtieſt, loweſt, moſt fraudulent, and moſt knaviſh of chicaners, aſcended in the ſcale of robbery, ſacrilege, and aſſaſſination in all it's forms, till at laſt they had imbrued their im⯑pious hands in the blood of their Sovereign? Is it from theſe men that we are to hope for this pa⯑ternal tenderneſs to their country, and this ſa⯑cred regard for the peace and happineſs of all nations?

But it ſeems there is ſtill another lurking hope, akin to that which duped us ſo egregiouſly be⯑fore, when our delightful baſis was accepted: we ſtill flatter ourſelves that the publick voice of France will compel this Directory to more mo⯑deration. Whence does this hope ariſe? What publick voice is there in France? There are, indeed, ſome writers, who, ſince this monſter of [86] a Directory has obtained a great regular mili⯑tary force to guard them, are indulged in a ſuf⯑ficient liberty of writing, and ſome of them write well undoubtedly. But the world knows that in France there is no publick, that the country is compoſed but of two deſcriptions; audacious tyrants and trembling ſlaves. The conteſts between the tyrants is the only vital principle that can be diſcerned in France. The only thing which there appears like ſpirit, is amongſt their late aſſociates, and faſteſt friends of the Directory▪ the more furious and untame⯑able part of the Jacobins. This diſcontented mem⯑ber of the faction does almoſt balance the reign⯑ing diviſions; and it threatens every moment to predominate. For the preſent, however, the dread of their fury forms ſome ſort of ſecurity to their fellows, who now exerciſe a more regu⯑lar, and therefore a ſomewhat leſs ferocious ty⯑ranny. Moſt of the ſlaves chuſe a quiet, how⯑ever reluctant, ſubmiſſion to thoſe who are ſomewhat ſatiated with blood, and who, like wolves, are a little more tame from being a little leſs hungry, in preference to an irruption of the famiſhed devourers, who are prowling and howling about the fold.

This circumſtance aſſures ſome degree of per⯑manence to the power of thoſe, whom we know [87] to be permanently our rancourous and impla⯑cable enemies. But to thoſe very enemies, who have ſworn our deſtruction, we have ourſelves given a further and far better ſecurity by ren⯑dering the cauſe of the Royaliſts deſperate, Thoſe brave and virtuous, but unfortunate ad⯑herents to the ancient conſtitution of their coun⯑try, after the miſerable ſlaughters which have been made in that body, after all their loſſes by emigration, are ſtill numerous, but unable to exert themſelves againſt the force of the uſur⯑pation, evidently countenanced and upheld by thoſe very Princes who had called them to arm for the ſupport of the legal Monarchy. Where then, after chacing theſe fleeting hopes of ours from point to point of the political horizon, are they at laſt really found? Not where, under Providence, the hopes of Engliſhmen uſed to be placed, in our own courage and in our own vir⯑tues, but in the moderation and virtue of the moſt atrocious monſters that have ever diſgraced and plagued mankind.

The only excuſe to be made for all our men⯑dicant diplomacy is the ſame as in the caſe of all other mendicancy;—namely, that it has been founded on abſolute neceſſity. This deſerves conſideration. Neceſſity, as it has no law, ſo it has no ſhame; but moral neceſſity is not like [88] metaphyſical, or even phyſical. In that category, it is a word of looſe ſignification, and conveys different ideas to different minds. To the low-minded, the ſlighteſt neceſſity becomes an in⯑vincible neceſſity. ‘The ſlothful man ſaith, There is a lion in the way, and I ſhall be de⯑voured in the ſtreets.’ But when the neceſſity pleaded is not in the nature of things, but in the vices of him who alledges it, the whining tones of common-place beggarly rhetorick, pro⯑duce nothing but indignation; becauſe they indicate a deſire of keeping up a diſhonourable exiſtence, without utility to others, and without dignity to itſelf; becauſe they aim at obtaining the dues of labour without induſtry; and by frauds would draw from the compaſſion of others, what men ought to owe to their own ſpirit and their own exertions.

I am thoroughly ſatisfied that if we degrade ourſelves, it is the degradation which will ſub⯑ject us to the yoke of neceſſity, and, not that it is neceſſity which has brought on our degrada⯑tion. In this ſame chaos, where light and dark⯑neſs are ſtruggling together, the open ſubſcrip⯑tion of laſt year, with all it's circumſtances, muſt have given us no little glimmering of hope; not (as I have heard, it was vainly diſcourſed) that the loan could prove a crutch to a lame nego⯑tiation [89] abroad; and that the whiff and wind of it muſt at once have diſpoſed the enemies of all tranquillity to a deſire for peace. Judging on the face of facts, if on them it had any effect at all, it had the direct contrary effect; for very ſoon after the loan became publick at Paris, the nego⯑tiation ended, and our Ambaſſador was ignomi⯑niouſly expelled. My view of this was different: I liked the loan, not from the influence which it might have on the enemy, but on account of the temper which it indicated in our own people. This alone is a conſideration of any importance; becauſe all calculation, formed upon a ſuppoſed relation of the habitudes of others to our own, under the preſent circumſtances, is weak and fallacious. The adverſary muſt be judged, not by what we are, or by what we wiſh him to be, but by what we muſt know he actually is; unleſs we chooſe to ſhut our eyes and our ears to the uniform tenour of all his diſcourſes, and to his uniform courſe in all his actions. We may be deluded; but we cannot pretend that we have been diſappointed. The old rule of, Ne te quae⯑ſiveris extra, is a precept as available in policy as it is in morals. Let us leave off ſpeculating upon the diſpoſition and the wants of the ene⯑my. Let us deſcend into our own boſoms; let us aſk ourſelves what are our duties, and what are our means of diſcharging them. In what [90] heart are you at home? How far may an Engliſh Miniſter confide in the affections, in the con⯑fidence, in the force of an Engliſh people? What does he find us when he puts us to the proof of what Engliſh intereſt and Engliſh honour de⯑mand? It is, as furniſhing an anſwer to theſe queſtions that I conſider the circumſtances of the loan. The effect on the enemy is not in what he may ſpeculate on our reſources, but in what he ſhall feel from our arms.

The circumſtances of the loan have proved beyond a doubt three capital points, which, if they are properly uſed, may be advantageous to the future liberty and happineſs of man⯑kind. In the firſt place, the loan demon⯑ſtrates, in regard to inſtrumental reſources, the competency of this kingdom to the aſſertion of the common cauſe, and to the maintenance and ſuperintendance of that, which it is it's duty, and it's glory to hold, and to watch over—the balance of power throughout the Chriſtian World. Se⯑condly, it brings to light what, under the moſt diſcouraging appearances, I always reckoned on; that with it's ancient phyſical force, not only unimpaired, but augmented, it's ancient ſpirit is ſtill alive in the Britiſh nation. It proves, that for their application there is a ſpirit equal to the reſources, for it's energy above them. It [91] proves that there exiſts, though not always vi⯑ſible, a ſpirit which never fails to come forth whenever it is ritually invoked; a ſpirit which will give no equivocal reſponſe, but ſuch as will hearten the timidity, and fix the irreſolution of heſitating prudence; a ſpirit which will be ready to perform all the taſks that ſhall be impoſed upon it by publick honour. Thirdly, the loan diſplays an abundant confidence in his Majeſty's Government, as adminiſtered by his preſent ſer⯑vants, in the proſecution of a war which the people conſider, not as a war made on the ſug⯑geſtion of Miniſters, and to anſwer the purpoſes of the ambition or pride of ſtateſmen, but as a war of their own, and in defence of that very property which they expend for it's ſupport; a war for that order of things, from which every thing valuable that they poſſeſs is derived, and in which order alone it can poſſibly be main⯑tained.

I hear in derogation of the value of the fact, from which I draw inferences ſo favourable to the ſpirit of the people, and to it's juſt expecta⯑tion from Miniſters, that the eighteen million loan is to be conſidered in no other light, than as taking advantage of a very lucrative bargain held out to the ſubſcribers. I do not in truth believe it. All the circumſtances which attend⯑ed [92] the ſubſcription ſtrongly ſpoke a different language. Be it, however, as theſe detractors ſay. This with me derogates little, or rather nothing at all, from the political value and im⯑portance of the fact. I ſhould be very ſorry if the tranſaction was not ſuch a bargain, other⯑wiſe it would not have been a fair one. A cor⯑rupt and improvident loan, like every thing elſe corrupt or prodigal, cannot be too much condemned; but there is a ſhort-ſighted par⯑ſimony ſtill more fatal than an unforeſeeing expence. The value of money muſt be judged like every thing elſe from it's rate at market. To force that market, or any market, is of all things the moſt dangerous. For a ſmall temporary benefit, the ſpring of all public credit might be relaxed for ever. The monied men have a right to look to advantage in the inveſt⯑ment of their property. To advance their mo⯑ney, they riſk it; and the riſk is to be included in the price. If they were to incur a loſs, that loſs would amount to a tax on that peculiar ſpecies of property. In effect, it would be the moſt unjuſt and impolitick of all things, unequal taxation. It would throw upon one deſcription of perſons in the community, that burthen which ought by fair and equitable diſtribution to reſt upon the whole. None on account of their dig⯑nity ſhould be exempt; none (preſerving due [93] proportion) on account of the ſcantineſs of their means. The moment a man is exempted from the maintenance of the community, he is in a ſort ſeparated from it. He loſes the place of a citizen.

So it is in all taxation; but in a bargain, when terms of loſs are looked for by the borrower from the lender, compulſion, or what virtually is compulſion, introduces itſelf into the place of treaty. When compulſion may be at all uſed by a State in borrowing, the occaſion muſt de⯑termine. But the compulſion ought to be known, and well defined, and well diſtinguiſh⯑ed: for otherwiſe treaty only weakens the ener⯑gy of compulſion, while compulſion deſtroys the freedom of a bargain. The advantage of both is loſt by the confuſion of things in their nature utterly unſociable. It would be to intro⯑duce compulſion into that in which freedom and exiſtence are the ſame; I mean credit. The moment that ſhame, or fear, or force, are di⯑rectly or indirectly applied to a loan, credit periſhes.

There muſt be ſome impulſe beſides public ſpirit, to put private intereſt into motion along with it. Monied men ought to be allowed to ſet a value on their money; if they did not, [94] there could be no monied men. This deſire of accumulation, is a principle without which the means of their ſervice to the State could not exiſt. The love of lucre, though ſometimes car⯑ried to a ridiculous, ſometimes to a vicious ex⯑ceſs, is the grand cauſe of proſperity to all States. In this natural, this reaſonable, this powerful, this prolifick principle, it is for the ſatyriſt to ex⯑poſe the ridiculous; it is for the moraliſt to cenſure the vicious; it is for the ſympathetick heart to reprobate the hard and cruel; it is for the Judge to animadvert on the fraud, the ex⯑tortion, and the oppreſſion: but it is for the Stateſman to employ it as he finds it, with all it's concomitant exITEMencies, with all it's im⯑perfections on it's head. It is his part, in this caſe, as it is in all other caſes, where he is to make uſe of the general energies of nature, to take them as he finds them.

After all, it is a great miſtake to imagine, as too commonly, almoſt indeed generally, it is imagined, that the publick borrower and the private lender, are two adverſe parties with dif⯑ferent and contending intereſts: and that what is given to the one, is wholly taken from the other. Conſtituted as our ſyſtem of finance and taxation is, the intereſts of the contracting par⯑ties cannot well be ſeparated, whatever they may [95] reciprocally intend. He who is the hard lender of to-day, to-morrow is the generous contri⯑butor to his own payment. For example, the laſt loan is raiſed on publick taxes, which are de⯑ſigned to produce annually two millions ſterling. At firſt view, this is an annuity of two millions dead charge upon the publick in favour of cer⯑tain monied men: but inſpect the thing more nearly, follow the ſtream in it's meanders; and you will find that there is a good deal of fallacy in this ſtate of things.

I take it, that whoever conſiders any man's expenditure of his income, old or new (I ſpeak of certain claſſes in life) will find a full third of it to go in taxes, direct or indirect. If ſo, this new-created income of two millions will pro⯑bly furniſh 665,000l. (I avoid broken num⯑bers) towards the payment of it's own intereſt, or to the ſinking of it's own capital. So it is with the whole of the publick debt. Suppoſe it any given ſum, it is a fallacious eſtimate of the affairs of a nation to conſider it as a mere bur⯑then; to a degree it is ſo without queſtion, but not wholly ſo, nor any thing like it. If the income from the intereſt be ſpent, the above proportion returns again into the publick ſtock: inſomuch, that taking the intereſt of the whole debt to be twelve million, three hundred thou⯑ſand [96] pound, (it is ſomething more) not leſs than a ſum of four million one hundred thou⯑ſand pound comes back again to the publick through the channel of impoſition. If the whole, or any part, of that income be ſaved, ſo much new capital is generated; the infallible operation of which is to lower the value of money, and conſequently to conduce towards the improve⯑ment of publick credit.

I take the expenditure of the capitaliſt, not the value of the capital, as my ſtandard; becauſe it is the ſtandard upon which amongſt us, pro⯑perty as an object of taxation, is rated. In this country, land and offices only excepted, we raiſe no faculty tax. We preſerve the faculty from the expence. Our taxes, for the far greater portion, fly over the heads of the loweſt claſſes. They eſcape too who, with better ability, vo⯑luntarily ſubject themſelves to the harſh diſci⯑pline of a rigid neceſſity. With us, labour and frugality, the parents of riches, are ſpread, and wiſely too. The moment men ceaſe to augment the common ſtock, the moment they no longer enrich it by their induſtry or their ſelf-denial, their luxury and even their eaſe are obliged to pay contribution to the publick; not becauſe they are vicious principles, but becauſe they are unproductive. If, in fact, the intereſt paid by [97] the publick had not thus revolved again into it's own fund; if this ſecretion had not again been abſorbed into the maſs of blood, it would have been impoſſible for the nation to have exiſted to this time under ſuch a debt. But under the debt it does exiſt and flouriſh; and this flou⯑riſhing ſtate of exiſtence in no ſmall degree is owing to the contribution from the debt to the payment. Whatever, therefore, is taken from that capital by too cloſe a bargain, is but a de⯑luſive advantage, it is ſo much loſt to the pub⯑lick in another way. This matter cannot on the one ſide or the other, be metaphyſically purſued to the extreme, but it is a conſideration of which, in all diſcuſſions of this kind, we ought never wholly to loſe ſight.

It is never, therefore, wiſe to quarrel with the intereſted views of men, whilſt they are com⯑bined with the publick intereſt and promote it: it is our buſineſs to tie the knot, if poſſible, cloſer. Reſources that are derived from extraor⯑dinary virtues, as ſuch virtues are rare, ſo they muſt be unproductive. ‘It is a good thing for a monied man to pledge his property on the welfare of his country; he ſhews that he places his treaſure where his heart is; and, revolving in this circle, we know that ‘wherever a man's treaſure is, there his heart will be alſo’ For [98] theſe reaſons and on theſe principles, I have been ſorry to ſee the attempts which have been made, with more good meaning than foreſight and conſideration, towards raiſing the annual intereſt of this loan by private contributions.’ Wherever a regular revenue is eſtabliſhed, there voluntary contribution can anſwer no purpoſe, but to diſorder and diſturb it in it's courſe. To recur to ſuch aids is, for ſo much to diſ⯑ſolve the community, and to return to a ſtate of unconnected nature. And even if ſuch a ſupply ſhould be productive, in a degree com⯑menſurate to it's object, it muſt alſo be pro⯑ductive of much vexation, and much oppreſ⯑ſion. Either the citizens, by the propoſed du⯑ties, pay their proportion according to ſome rate made by publick authority, or they do not. If the law be well made, and the contributions founded on juſt proportions, every thing ſuper⯑added by ſomething that is not as regular as law, and as uniform in it's operation, will be⯑come more or leſs out of proportion. If, on the contrary, the law be not made upon proper calculation, it is a diſgrace to the publick wiſ⯑dom, which fails in ſkill to aſſeſs the citizen in juſt meaſure, and according to his means. But the hand of authority is not always the moſt heavy hand. It is obvious, that men may be oppreſſed by many ways, beſides thoſe which [99] take their courſe from the ſupreme power of the State. Suppoſe the payment to be wholly diſcretionary. Whatever has it's origin in ca⯑price, is ſure not to improve in it's progreſs, nor to end in reaſon. It is impoſſible for each private individual to have any meaſure conformable to the particular condition of each of his fellow-citizens, or to the general exi⯑gencies of his country. 'Tis a random ſhot at beſt.

When men proceed in this irregular mode, the firſt contributor is apt to grow peeviſh with his neighbours. He is but too well diſ⯑poſed to meaſure their means by his own envy, and not by the real ſtate of their fortunes, which he can rarely know, and which it may in them be an act of the groſſeſt imprudence to reveal. Hence the odium and laſſitude, with which people will look upon a proviſion for the pub⯑lick, which is bought by diſcord at the expence of ſocial quiet. Hence the bitter heart-burn⯑ings, and the war of tongues which is ſo often the prelude to other wars. Nor is it every con⯑tribution, called voluntary, which is according to the free will of the giver. A falſe ſhame, or a falſe glory, againſt his feelings, and his judgment, may tax an individual to the detri⯑ment of his family, and in wrong of his credi⯑tors. [100] A pretence of publick ſpirit may diſable him from the performance of his private duties. It may diſable him even from paying the legiti⯑mate contributions which he is to furniſh ac⯑cording to the preſcript of law; but what is the moſt dangerous of all is, that malignant diſpoſi⯑tion to which this mode of contribution evi⯑dently tends, and which at length leaves the comparatively indigent, to judge of the wealth, and to preſcribe to the opulent, or thoſe whom they conceive to be ſuch, the uſe they are to make of their fortunes. From thence it is but one ſtep to the ſubverſion of all property.

Far, very far am I from ſuppoſing that ſuch things enter into the purpoſes of thoſe excel⯑lent perſons whoſe zeal has led them to this kind of meaſure; but the meaſure itſelf will lead them beyond their intention, and what is begun with the beſt deſigns, bad men will perverſely improve to the worſt of their purpoſes. An ill-founded plauſibility in great affairs is a real evil. In France we have ſeen the wickedeſt and moſt fooliſh of men, the Conſtitution-mongers of 1789, purſuing this very courſe, and ending in this very event. Theſe projectors of deception ſet on foot two modes of voluntary contribu⯑tion to the ſtate. The firſt, they called patrio⯑tick gifts. Theſe, for the greater part were not [101] more ridiculous in the mode, than contemptible in the project. The other, which they called the patriotick contribution, was expected to amount to a fourth of the fortunes of indi⯑viduals, but at their own will and on their own eſtimate; but this contribution threatening to fall infinitely ſhort of their hopes, they ſoon made it compulſory, both in the rate and in the levy, beginning in fraud and ending, as all the frauds of power end, in plain violence. All theſe devices to produce an involuntary will, were under the pretext of relieving the more indigent claſſes, but the principle of voluntary contribu⯑tion, however deluſive, being once eſtabliſhed, theſe lower claſſes firſt, and then all claſſes, were encouraged to throw off the regular methodical payments to the State as ſo many badges of ſla⯑very. Thus all regular revenue failing, theſe impoſtors raiſing the ſuperſtructure on the ſame cheats with which they had laid the foundation of their greatneſs, and not content with a por⯑tion of the poſſeſſions of the rich, confiſcated the whole, and to prevent them from reclaim⯑ing their rights, murdered the proprietors. The whole of the proceſs has paſſed before our eyes, and been conducted indeed with a greater de⯑gree of rapidity than could be expected.

[102]My opinion then is, that publick contribu⯑tions ought only to be raiſed by the publick will. By the judicious form of our conſtitution, the pu⯑blick contribution is in it's name and ſubſtance a grant. In it's origin it is truly voluntary; not voluntary, according to the irregular, unſteady, capricious will of individuals, but according to the will and wiſdom of the whole popular maſs, in the only way in which will and wiſdom can go together. This voluntary grant obtaining in it's progreſs the force of a law, a general neceſſity which takes away all merit, and conſequently all jealouſy from individuals, compreſſes, equal⯑izes, and ſatisfies the whole; ſuffering no man to judge of his neighbour, or to arrogate any thing to himſelf. If their will complies with their obligation, the great end is anſwered in the happieſt mode; if the will reſiſts the burthen, every one loſes a great part of his own will as a common lot. After all, perhaps contributions raiſed by a charge on luxury, or that degree of convenience which approaches ſo near as to be confounded with luxury, is the only mode of contribution which may be with truth termed voluntary.

I might reſt here, and take the loan I ſpeak of as leading to a ſolution of that queſtion, [103] which I propoſed in my firſt letter: "Whether the inability of the country to proſecute the war, did neceſſitate a ſubmiſſion to the indigni⯑ties and the calamities of a Peace with the Re⯑gicide Power." But give me leave to purſue this point a little further.

I know that it has been a cry uſual on this occaſion, as it has been upon occaſions where ſuch a cry could have leſs apparent juſtification, that great diſtreſs and miſery have been the con⯑ſequence of this war, by the burthens brought and laid upon the people. But to know where the burthen really lies, and where it preſſes, we muſt divide the people. As to the common peo⯑ple, their ſtock is in their perſons and in their earnings. I deny that the ſtock of their perſons is diminiſhed in a greater proportion than the common ſources of populouſneſs abundantly fill up; I mean conſtant employment; proportioned pay according to the produce of the ſoil, and where the ſoil fails, according to the operation of the general capital; plentiful nouriſhment to vigorous labour; comfortable proviſion to de⯑crepid age, to orphan infancy, and to accidental malady. I ſay nothing to the policy of the provi⯑ſion for the poor, in all the variety of faces under which it preſents itſelf. This is the matter of another enquiry. I only juſt ſpeak of it as of a [104] fact, taken with others, to ſupport me in my denial that hitherto any one of the ordinary ſources of the increaſe of mankind is dried up by this war. I affirm, what I can well prove, that the waſte has been leſs than the ſupply. To ſay that in war no man muſt be killed, is to ſay that there ought to be no war. This they may ſay, who wiſh to talk idly, and who would diſ⯑play their humanity at the expence of their ho⯑neſty, or their underſtanding. If more lives are loſt in this war than neceſſity requires, they are loſt by miſconduct or miſtake, but if the hoſ⯑tility be juſt, the errour is to be corrected: the war is not to be abandoned.

That the ſtock of the common people, in numbers is not leſſened, any more than the cauſes are impaired, is manifeſt, without being at the pains of an actual numeration. An improved and improving agriculture, which implies a great augmentation of labour, has not yet found itſelf at a ſtand, no, not for a ſingle moment, for want of the neceſſary hands, either in the ſettled progreſs of huſbandry, or in the occa⯑ſional preſſure of harveſts. I have even reaſon to believe that there has been a much ſmaller importation, or the demand of it, from a neigh⯑bouring kingdom than in former times, when agriculture was more limited in it's extent and [105] it's means, and when the time was a ſeaſon of profound peace. On the contrary, the prolifick fertility of country life has poured it's ſuper⯑fluity of population into the canals, and into other publick works which of late years have been undertaken to ſo amazing an extent, and which have not only not been diſcontinued, but beyond all expectation puſhed on with re⯑doubled vigour, in a war that calls for ſo many of our men, and ſo much of our riches. An increaſing capital calls for labour: and an in⯑creaſing population anſwers to the call. Our manufactures augmented both for the ſupply of foreign and domeſtick conſumption, re⯑producing with the means of life, the multi⯑tudes which they uſe and waſte, (and which many of them devour much more ſurely and much more largely than the war) have always found the laborious hand ready for the liberal pay. That the price of the ſoldier is highly raiſed is true. In part this riſe may be owing to ſome meaſures not ſo well conſidered in the beginning of this war, but the grand cauſe has been the reluctence of that claſs of people from whom the ſoldiery is taken, to enter into a mi⯑litary life, not that but once entered into, it has it's conveniences, and even it's pleaſures. I have ſeldom, known a ſoldier who, at the in⯑terceſſion of his friends, and at their no ſmall [106] charge, had been redeemed from that diſcipline, that in a ſhort time, was not eager to return to it again. But the true reaſon is the abun⯑dant occupation, and the augmented ſtipend found in towns, and villages, and farms, which leaves a ſmaller number of perſons to be diſ⯑poſed of. The price of men for new and un⯑tried ways of life, muſt bear a proportion to the profits of that mode of exiſtence from whence they are to be bought.

So far as to the ſtock of the common people, as it conſiſts in their perſons. As to the other part, which conſiſts in their earnings, I have to ſay, that the rates of wages are very greatly aug⯑mented almoſt through the kingdom. In the pariſh where I live, it has been raiſed from ſeven to nine ſhillings in the week for the ſame la⯑bourer, performing the ſame taſk, and no greater. Except ſomething in the malt taxes, and the duties upon ſugars, I do not know any one tax impoſed for very many years paſt which affects the labourer in any degree whatſoever; while on the other hand, the tax upon houſes not having more than ſeven windows (that is, upon cottages) was repealed the very year before the commencement of the preſent war. On the whole, I am ſatisfied, that the humbleſt claſs, and that claſs which touches the moſt [107] nearly on the loweſt, out of which it is continu⯑ally emerging, and to which it is continually falling, receives far more from publick impoſi⯑tions than it pays. That claſs receives two mil⯑lion ſterling annually from the claſſes above it. It pays to no ſuch amount towards any publick contribution.

I hope it is not neceſſary for me to take no⯑tice of that language, ſo ill ſuited to the perſons to whom it has been attributed, and ſo unbe⯑coming the place in which it is ſaid to have been uttered, concerning the preſent war as the cauſe of the high price of proviſions during the greater part of the year 1796. I preſume it is only to be aſcribed to the intolerable licence with which the newſpapers break not only the rules of deco⯑rum in real life, but even the dramatick decorum, when they perſonate great men, and, like bad poets, make the heroes of the piece talk more like us Grub-ſtreet ſcribblers, than in a ſtyle conſonant to perſons of gravity and importance in the State. It was eaſy to demonſtrate the cauſe, and the ſole cauſe, of that riſe in the grand ar⯑ticle and firſt neceſſary of life. It would ap⯑pear that it had no more connexion with the war, than the moderate price to which all ſorts of grain were reduced, ſoon after the return of Lord Malmeſbury, had with the ſtate of po⯑ticks [108] and the fate of his Lordſhip's treaty. I have quite as good reaſon (that is, no reaſon at all) to attribute this abundance to the longer continuance of the war, as the gentlemen who perſonate leading Members of Parliament, have had for giving the enhanced price to that war, at a more early period of it's duration. Oh, the folly of us poor creatures, who, in the midſt of our diſtreſſes, or our eſcapes, are ready to claw or careſs one another, upon matters that ſo ſel⯑dom depend on our wiſdom or our weakneſs, on our good or evil conduct towards each other!

An untimely ſhower, or an unſeaſonable drought; a froſt too long continued, or too ſuddenly broken up, with rain and tempeſt; the blight of the ſpring, or the ſmut of the harveſt; will do more to cauſe the diſtreſs of the belly, than all the contrivances of all Stateſmen can do to relieve it. Let Government protect and en⯑courage induſtry, ſecure property, repreſs vio⯑lence, and diſcountenance fraud, it is all that they have to do. In other reſpects, the leſs they meddle in theſe affairs the better; the reſt is in the hands of our Maſter and theirs. We are in a conſtitution of things wherein—‘Modo ſol nimius, modo corripit imber.’ But I will puſh this matter no further. As I have ſaid a good deal upon it at various times during my [109] publick ſervice, and I have lately written ſome⯑thing on it, which may yet ſee the light, I ſhall content myſelf now with obſerving, that the vigorous and laborious claſs of life has lately got from the bon ton of the humanity of this day, the name of the "labouring poor." We have heard many plans for the relief of the "Labour⯑ing Poor." This puling jargon is not as inno⯑cent as it is fooliſh. In meddling with great affairs, weakneſs is never innoxious. Hitherto the name of Poor (in the ſenſe in which it is uſed to excite compaſſion) has not been uſed for thoſe who can, but for thoſe who cannot labour—for the ſick and infirm; for orphan in⯑fancy; for languiſhing and decrepid age: but when we affect to pity as poor, thoſe who muſt labour or the world cannot exiſt, we are trifling with the condition of mankind. It is the com⯑mon doom of man that he muſt eat his bread by the ſweat of his brow, that is, by the ſweat of his body, or the ſweat of his mind. If this toil was inflicted as a curſe, it is as might be expected from the curſes of the Father of all Bleſſings—it is tempered with many alleviations, many comforts. Every at⯑tempt to fly from it, and to refuſe the very terms of our exiſtence, becomes much more truly a curſe, and heavier pains and penalties fall upon thoſe who would elude the taſks which are put [110] upon them by the great Maſter Workman of the World, who in his dealings with his crea⯑tures ſympathizes with their weakneſs, and ſpeaking of a creation wrought by mere will out of nothing, ſpeaks of ſix days of labour and one of reſt. I do not call a healthy young man, chearful in his mind, and vigorous in his arms, I cannot call ſuch a man, poor; I cannot pity my kind as a kind, merely becauſe they are men. This affected pity, only tends to diſ⯑ſatisfy them with their condition, and to teach them to ſeek reſources where no reſources are to be found, in ſomething elſe than their own induſtry, and frugality, and ſobriety. What⯑ever may be the intention (which, becauſe I do not know, I cannot diſpute) of thoſe who would diſcontent mankind by this ſtrange pity, they act towards us in the conſequences, as if they were our worſt enemies.

In turning our view from the lower to the higher claſſes, it will not be neceſſary for me to ſhew at any length that the ſtock of the latter, as it conſiſts in their numbers, has not yet ſuf⯑fered any material diminution. I have not ſeen, or heard it aſſerted: I have no reaſon to believe it: there is no want of officers, that I have ever underſtood, for the new ſhips which we com⯑miſſion, or the new regiments which we raiſe. [111] In the nature of things it is not with their per⯑ſons, that the higher claſſes principally pay their contingent to the demands of war. There is another, and not leſs important, part which reſts with almoſt excluſive weight upon them. They furniſh the means,

Not that they are exempt from contributing alſo by their perſonal ſervice in the fleets and armies of their country. They do contribute, and in their full and fair proportion, according to the relative proportion of their numbers in the commu⯑nity. They contribute all the mind that actu⯑ates the whole machine. The fortitude re⯑quired of them, is very different from the un⯑thinking alacrity of the common ſoldier, or common ſailor, in the face of danger and death; it is not a paſſion, it is not an impulſe, it is not a ſentiment; it is a cool, ſteady, deliberate principle, always preſent, always equable; hav⯑ing no connexion with anger; tempering ho⯑nour with prudence; incited, invigorated, and ſuſtained by a generous love of fame; informed, moderated and directed by an enlarged know⯑ledge of it's own great publick ends; flowing in one blended ſtream from the oppoſite ſources of the heart and the head; carrying in itſelf it's own commiſſion, and proving it's title to every [112] other command, by the firſt and moſt difficult command, that of the boſom in which it reſides: it is a fortitude, which unites with the courage of the field the more exalted and refined courage of the council; which knows, as well to retreat as to advance; which can conquer as well by de⯑lay, as by the rapidity of a march, or the impe⯑tuoſity of an attack; which can be, with Fabius, the black cloud that lowers on the tops of the mountains, or with Scipio, the thunderbolt of war; which undiſmayed by falſe ſhame, can patiently endure the ſevereſt trial that a gallant ſpirit can undergo, in the taunts and provocations of the enemy, the ſuſpicions, the cold reſpect, and "mouth-honour" of thoſe, from whom it ſhould meet a cheerful obedience; which undiſ⯑turbed by falſe humanity, can calmly aſſume that moſt aweful moral reſponſibility of decid⯑ing, when victory may be too dearly purchaſed by the loſs of a ſingle life, and when the ſafety and glory of their country may demand the cer⯑tain ſacrifice of thouſands. Different ſtations of command may call for different modifications of this fortitude, but the character ought to be the ſame in all. And never in the moſt "palmy ſtate" of our martial renown did it ſhine with brighter luſtre than in the preſent ſanguinary and ferocious hoſtilities, wherever the Britiſh arms have been carried. But, in this moſt arduous, and momentous conflict, which from [113] it's nature ſhould have rouſed us to new and unexampled efforts, I know not how it has been, that we have never put forth half the ſtrength, which we have exerted in ordinary wars. In the fatal battles, which have drenched the Continent with blood, and ſhaken the ſyſtem of Europe to pieces, we have never had any conſiderable army of a magnitude to be compared to the leaſt of thoſe by which, in former times, we ſo gloriouſly aſſerted our place as protectors, not oppreſſors, at the head of the great Commonwealth of Eu⯑rope. We have never manfully met the danger in front; and when the enemy, reſigning to us our natural dominion of the ocean, and aban⯑doning the defence of his diſtant poſſeſſions to the infernal energy of the deſtroying principles, which he had planted there▪ for the ſubverſion of the neighbouring Colonies, drove forth by one ſweeping law of unprecedented deſpotiſm, his armed multitudes on every ſide, to overwhelm the Countries and States, which had for centuries ſtood the firm barriers againſt the ambition of France; we drew back the arm of our military force, which had never been more than half raiſed to oppoſe him. From that time we have been combating only with the other arm of our naval power; the right arm of England I admit; but which ſtruck almoſt unreſiſted, with blows, that could never reach the heart of the hoſtile miſchief. [114] From that time, without a ſingle effort to re⯑gain thoſe outworks, which ever till now we ſo ſtrenuoufly maintained, as the ſtrong frontier of our own dignity and ſafety, no leſs than the liber⯑ties of Europe; with but one feeble attempt to ſuccour thoſe brave, faithful, and numerous allies, whom for the firſt time ſince the days of our Ed⯑wards and Henrys, we now have in the boſom of France itſelf; we have been intrenching, and fortifying, and garriſoning ourſelves at home: we have been redoubling ſecurity on ſecurity, to pro⯑tect ourſelves from invaſion, which has now firſt become to us a ſerious object of alarm and terrour. Alas! the few of us, who have pro⯑tracted life in any meaſure near to the extreme limits of our ſhort period, have been condemned to ſee ſtrange things; new ſyſtems of policy, new principles, and not only new men, but what might appear a new ſpecies of men. I believe that any perſon who was of age to take a part in publick affairs forty years ago (if the intermediate ſpace of time were expunged from his memory) would hardly credit his ſenſes, when he ſhould hear from the higheſt authority, that an army of two hundred thouſand men was kept up in this iſland, and that in the neighbouring iſland there were at leaſt fourſcore thouſand more. But when he had recovered from his ſurpriſe on being told of this army, which has not it's parallel, what muſt [115] be his aſtoniſhment to be told again, that this mighty force was kept up for the mere purpoſe of an inert and paſſive defence, and that, in it's far greater part, it was diſabled by it's conſtitution and very eſſence, from defending us againſt an enemy by any one preventive ſtroke, or any one opera⯑tion of active hoſtility? What muſt his reflexions be, on learning further, that a fleet of five hundred men of war, the beſt appointed, and to the full as ably commanded as this country ever had upon the ſea, was for the greater part employed in car⯑rying on the ſame ſyſtem of unenterpriſing de⯑fence? What muſt be the ſentiments and feelings of one, who remembers the former energy of Eng⯑land, when he is given to underſtand, that theſe two iſlands, with their extenſive, and every where vulnerable coaſt, ſhould be conſidered as a garri⯑ſoned ſea-town; what would ſuch a man, what would any man think, if the garriſon of ſo ſtrange a fortreſs ſhould be ſuch, and ſo feebly command⯑ed, as never to make a ſally; and that, contrary to all which has hitherto been ſeen in war, an in⯑finitely inferiour army, with the ſhattered relicks of an almoſt annihilated navy, ill found, and ill man⯑ned, may with ſafety beſiege this ſuperiour garri⯑ſon, and without hazarding the life of a man, ruin the place, merely by the menaces and falſe appear⯑ances of an attack? Indeed, indeed, my dear friend, I look upon this matter of our defenſive [116] ſyſtem as much the moſt important of all conſide⯑rations at this moment. It has oppreſſed me with many anxious thoughts, which, more than any bodily diſtemper, have ſunk me to the condition, in which you know that I am. Should it pleaſe Providence to reſtore to me, even the late weak remains of my ſtrength, I propoſe to make this matter the ſubject of a particular diſcuſſion. I only mean here to argue, that the mode of conducting the war on our part, be it good or bad, has pre⯑vented even the common havock of war in our population, and eſpecially among that claſs, whoſe duty and privilege of ſuperiority it is, to lead the way amidſt the perils and ſlaughter of the field of battle.

The other cauſes, which ſometimes affect the numbers of the lower claſſes, but which I have ſhewn not to have exiſted to any ſuch degree dur⯑ing this war,—penury, cold, hunger, nakedneſs,— do not eaſily reach the higher orders of ſociety. I do not dread for them the ſlighteſt taſte of theſe calamities from the diſtreſs and preſſure of the war. They have much more to dread in that way from the confiſcations, the rapines, the burnings, and the maſſacres, that may follow in the train of a peace, which ſhall eſtabliſh the devaſtating and de⯑populating principles and example of the French Regicides, in ſecurity, and triumph and dominion. [117] In the ordinary courſe of human affairs, any check to population among men in eaſe and opulence, is leſs to be apprehended from what they may ſuffer, than from what they enjoy. Peace is more likely to be injurious to them in that reſpect than war. The exceſſes of delicacy, repoſe, and ſatiety, are as unfavourable as the extremes of hardſhip, toil, and want, to the increaſe and multiplication of our kind. Indeed, the abuſe of the bounties of Na⯑ture, much more ſurely than any partial privation of them, tends to intercept that precious boon of a ſecond and dearer life in our progeny, which was beſtowed in the firſt great command to man from the All-gracious Giver of all, whoſe name be bleſſed, whether he gives or takes away. His hand, in every page of his book, has written the leſſon of moderation. Our phyſical well-being, our moral worth, our ſocial happineſs, our po⯑litical tranquillity, all depend on that controul of all our appetites and paſſions, which the ancients deſigned by the cardinal virtue of Temperance.

The only real queſtion to our preſent purpoſe, with regard to the higher claſſes, is, how ſtands the account of their ſtock, as it conſiſts in wealth of every deſcription? Have the burthens of the war compelled them to curtail any part of their former expenditure; which, I have before obſerv⯑ed, affords the only ſtandard of eſtimating pro⯑perty [118] as an object of taxation? Do they enjoy all the ſame conveniencies, the ſame comforts, the ſame elegancies, the ſame luxuries, in the ſame, or in as many different modes as they did before the war?

In the laſt eleven years, there have been no leſs than three ſolemn enquiries into the finances of the kingdom, by three different Committees of your Houſe. The firſt was in the year 1786. On that occaſion, I remember, the Report of the Committee was examined, and ſifted, and bolted to the bran, by a gentleman whoſe keen and pow⯑erful talents I have ever admired. He thought there was not ſufficient evidence to warrant the pleaſing repreſentation, which the Committee had made, of our national proſperity. He did not be⯑lieve, that our publick revenue could continue to be ſo productive, as they had aſſumed. He even went the length of recording his own inferences of doubt, in a ſet of reſolutions, which now ſtand upon your Journals. And perhaps the retroſpect, on which the Report proceeded, did not go far enough back, to allow any ſure and ſatisfactory average for a ground of ſolid calculation. But what was the event? When the next Committee fate in 1791, they found, that, on an average of the laſt four years, their predeceſſors had fallen ſhort in their eſtimate of the permanent [119] taxes by more than three hundred and forty thouſand pounds a year. Surely then if I can ſhow, that in the produce of thoſe ſame taxes, and more particularly of ſuch as affect articles of luxurious uſe and conſumption, the four years of the war have equalled thoſe four years of peace, flouriſh⯑ing, as they were, beyond the moſt ſanguine ſpecu⯑lations, I may expect to hear no more of the diſtreſs occaſioned by the war.

The additional burdens which have been laid on ſome of thoſe ſame articles, might reaſonably claim ſome allowance to be made. Every new advance of the price to the conſumer, is a new incentive to him to retrench the quantity of his conſump⯑tion; and if, upon the whole, he pays the ſame, his property computed by the ſtandard of what he voluntarily pays, muſt remain the ſame. But I am willing to forego that fair advantage in the enquiry. I am willing that the receipts of the permanent taxes which exiſted before Ja⯑nuary 1793, ſhould be compared during the war, and during the period of peace which I have men⯑tioned. I will go further. Complete accounts of the year 1791 were ſeparately laid before your Houſe. I am ready to ſtand by a compariſon of the produce of four years up to the beginning of the year 1792, with that of the war. Of the year im⯑mediately previous to hoſtilities, I have not been [120] able to obtain any perfect documents; but I have ſeen enough to ſatisfy me, that although a compa⯑riſon, including that year, might be leſs favour⯑able, yet it would not eſſentially injure my argu⯑ment.

You will always bear in mind, my dear Sir, that I am not conſidering whether, if the common enemy of the quiet of Europe had not forced us to take up arms in our own defence, the ſpring-tide of our proſperity might not have flowed higher than the mark, at which it now ſtands. That conſideration is connected with the queſtion of the juſtice and the neceſſity of the war. It is a queſtion which I have long ſince diſcuſſed. I am now endeavour⯑ing to aſcertain whether there exiſts, in fact, any ſuch neceſſity as we hear every day aſſerted, to furniſh a miſerable pretext for counſelling us to ſurrender, at diſcretion, our conqueſts, our honour, our dignity, our very independence, and, with it, all that is dear to man. It will be more than ſuf⯑ficient for that purpoſe, if I can make it appear that we have been ſtationary during the war. What then will be ſaid, if, in reality, it ſhall be proved that there is every indication of increaſed and in⯑creaſing wealth, not only poured into the grand reſervoir of the national capital, but diffuſed through all the channels of all the higher claſſes, and giving life and activity, as it paſſes, to the agri⯑culture, [121] the manufactures, the commerce, and the navigation of the country?

The Finance Committee, which has been ap⯑pointed in this Seſſion, has already made two re⯑ports. Every concluſion that I had before drawn, as you know, from my own obſervation, I have the ſatisfaction of ſeeing there confirmed by their authority. Large as was the ſum, by which the Committee of 1791 found the eſtimate of 1786 to have been exceeded in the actual pro⯑duce of four years of peace, their own eſtimate has been exceeded, during the war, by a ſum more than one-third larger. The ſame taxes have yielded more than half a million beyond their calculation. They yielded this, notwithſtanding the ſtoppage of the diſtilleries, againſt which, you may remember, that I privately remonſtrated. With an allow⯑ance for that defalcation, they have yielded ſixty thouſand pounds annually above the actual ave⯑rage of the preceding four years of peace. I be⯑lieve this to have been without parallel in all for⯑mer wars. If regard be had to the great and un⯑avoidable burthens of the preſent war, I am con⯑fident of the fact.

But let us deſcend to particulars. The taxes, which go by the general name of aſſeſſed taxes, comprehend the whole, or nearly the whole [122] domeſtick eſtabliſhment of the rich. They include ſome things, which belong to the middling, and even to all, but the very loweſt, claſſes. They now conſiſt of the duties on houſes and windows, on male ſervants, horſes, and carriages. They did alſo extend to cottages, to female ſervants, waggons, and carts uſed in huſbandry, previous to the year 1792; when, with more enlightened policy, at the moment that the poſſibility of war could not be out of the contemplation of any ſtateſman, the wiſdom of Parliament confined them to their pre⯑ſent objects. I ſhall give the groſs aſſeſſment for five years, as I find it in the Appendix to the ſe⯑cond Report of your Committee:

Here will be ſeen a gradual increaſe during the whole progreſs of the war: and if ^* I am correctly informed, the riſe in the laſt year, after every de⯑duction [123] that can be made, almoſt ſurpaſſes be⯑lief. It is enormouſly out of all proportion to the increaſe, not of any ſingle year, but of all the years put together, ſince the time that the duties, which I have mentioned above, were repealed.

There are ſome other taxes, which ſeem to have a reference to the ſame general head. The preſent Miniſter, many years ago, ſubjected bricks and tiles to a duty under the exciſe. It is of little conſe⯑quence to our preſent conſideration, whether theſe materials have been employed in building more commodious, more elegant, and more magnifi⯑cent habitations, or in enlarging, decorating, and re-modelling thoſe, which ſufficed for our plainer [124] anceſtors. During the firſt two years of the war, they paid ſo largely to the publick revenue, that in 1794 a new duty was laid upon them, which was equal to one half of the old, and which has pro⯑duced upwards of £.165,000 in the laſt three years. Yet notwithſtanding the preſſure of this additional weight^*, there has been an actual aug⯑mentation in the conſumption. The only two other articles which come under this deſcription, are, the ſtamp-duty on gold and ſilver plate, and the Cuſtoms on glaſs-plates. This latter is now, I believe, the ſingle inſtance of coſtly furniture to be found in the catalogue of our imports. If it were wholly to vaniſh, I ſhould not think we were ruined. Both the duties have riſen, during the war, very conſiderably in proportion to the total of their produce.

[125]We have no tax among us on the great neceſſa⯑ries of life with regard to food. The receipts of our Cuſtom-Houſe, under the head of Groceries, afford us, however, ſome means of calculating our luxuries of the table. The articles of Tea, Coffee, and Cocoa-Nuts, I would propoſe to omit, and to take them inſtead from the Exciſe, as beſt ſhewing, what is conſumed at home. Upon this principle, adding them all together (with the exception of Su⯑gar, for a reaſon which I ſhall afterwards mention) I find that they have produced, in one mode of com⯑pariſon, upwards of £.272,000, and in the other mode, upwards of £.165,000, more, during the [126] war than in peace ^*. An additional duty was alſo laid in 1795 on Tea, another on Coffee, and a third on Raiſins; an article, together with currants, of [127] much more extenſive uſe, than would readily be imagined. The balance in our favour would have been much enhanced, if our Coffee and fruit-ſhips from the Mediterranean had arrived, laſt year, at their uſual ſeaſon. They do not appear in theſe ac⯑counts. This was one conſequence ariſing (would to God, that none more afflicting to Italy, to Europe, and the whole civilized world had ariſen!) from our impolitick and precipitate deſertion, of that important maritime ſtation. As to ^*Sugar, I have excluded it from the Groceries, becauſe the account of the Cuſtoms is not a perfect criterion of the con⯑ſumption, much having been re-exported to the north of Europe, which uſed to be ſupplied by France; and there are no materials to furniſh grounds for computing this re-exportation. The increaſe on the face of our entries is immenſe dur⯑ing the four years of war, little ſhort of thirteen hundred thouſand pounds.

[128]The encreaſe of the duties on Beer has been re⯑gularly progreſſive, or nearly ſo, to a very large amount. ^* It is a good deal above a million, and is more than equal to one-eight of the whole pro⯑duce. Under this general head, ſome other li⯑quors are included,—Cyder, Perry, and Mead, as well as Vinegar, and Verjuice; but theſe are of very trifling conſideration. The Exciſe-Duties on Wine, having ſunk a little during the firſt two years of the war, were rapidly recovering their le⯑vel again. In 1795, a heavy additional duty was impoſed upon them, and a ſecond in the following year; yet being compared with four years of peace to the end of 1790, they actually exhibit a ſmall ga [...]n to the revenue. And low as the importation may ſeem in 1796, when contraſted with any year ſince the French Treaty in 1787, it is ſtill more than 3000 tons above the average importation for three years previous to that period. I have added Sweets, from which our factitious Wines are made; [129] and I would have added Spirits, but that the total alteration of the duties in 1789, and the recent in⯑terruption of our Diſtilleries, rendered any com⯑pariſon impracticable.

[130]The ancient ſtaple of our iſland, in which we are clothed, is very imperfectly to be traced on the books of the Cuſtom-Houſe: but I know, that our Woollen Manufactures flouriſh. I recollect to have ſeen that fact very fully eſtabliſhed, laſt year, from the regiſters kept in the Weſt-Riding of Yorkſhire This year, in the weſt of England I received a ſimilar account, on the authority of a reſpectable clothier, in that quarter, whoſe teſtimony can leſs be queſtioned, becauſe, in his political opi⯑nions, he is adverſe, as I underſtand, to the con⯑tinuance of the war. The principal articles of fe⯑male dreſs, for ſome time paſt, have been Muſlins and Callicoes. ^* Theſe elegant fabricks of our own looms in the Eaſt, which ſerve for the remit⯑tance of our own revenues, have lately been imi⯑tated at home, with improving ſucceſs, by the in⯑genious and enterpriſing manufacturers of Man⯑cheſter, Parſley, and Glaſgow. At the ſame time [131] the importation from Bengal has kept pace with the extenſion of our own dexterity and induſtry; while the ſale of our ^* printed goods, of both kinds, has been with equal ſteadineſs advanced, by the taſte and execution of our deſigners and artiſts. Our Woollens and Cottons, it is true, are not all for the home market. They do not di⯑ſtinctly prove, what is my preſent point, our own wealth by our own expence. I admit it: we ex⯑port them in great and growing quantities: and they, who croak themſelves hoarſe about the de⯑cay of our trade, may put as much of this ac⯑count, as they chuſe, to the creditor ſide of money received from other countries in payment for Bri⯑tiſh ſkill and labour. They may ſettle the items to their own liking, where all goes to demonſtrate our riches. I ſhall be contented here, with what⯑ever [132] they will have the goodneſs to leave me, and paſs to another entry, which is leſs ambiguous;—I mean that of Silk. ^* The manufactory itſelf is a forced plant. We have been obliged to guard it from foreign competition by very ſtrict prohibitory laws. What we import, is the raw and prepared mate⯑rial, which is worked up in various ways, and worn in various ſhapes by both ſexes. After what we have juſt ſeen, you will probably be ſurpriſed to learn, that the quantity of ſilk, imported dur⯑ing the war, has been much greater, than it was previouſly in peace; and yet we muſt all remem⯑ber to our mortification, that ſeveral of our ſilk ſhips fell a prey to Citizen Admiral Richery. You will hardly expect me to go through the tape and thread, and all the other ſmall wares of haberdaſh⯑ery and millinery to be gleaned up among our im⯑ports. But I ſhall make one obſervation, and with great ſatisfaction, reſpecting them. They gradu⯑ally diminiſh, as our own manufactures of the ſame [133] deſcription ſpread into their places; while the ac⯑count of ornamental articles which our country does not produce, and we cannot wiſh it to pro⯑duce, continues, upon the whole, to riſe, in ſpite of all the caprices of fancy and faſhion. Of this kind are the different furs ^* uſed for muffs, trim⯑mings, and linings, which, as the chief of the kind, I ſhall particularize. You will find them below.

The diverſions of the higher claſſes form an⯑other, and the only remaining, head of enquiry into their expences. I mean thoſe diverſions which diſtinguiſh the country and the town life; which are viſible and tangible to the Stateſman; which have ſome publick meaſure and ſtandard. And here, when I look to the Report of your Committee, I, for the firſt time, perceive a failure. [134] It is clearly ſo. Whichever way I reckon the four years of peace, the old tax on the ſports of the field has certainly proved deficient ſince the war. The ſame money, however, or nearly the ſame, has been paid to Government; though the ſame num⯑ber of individuals have not contributed to the payment. An additional tax was laid in 1791, and, during the war, has produced upwards of 61,000l.; which is about 4000l. more than the decreaſe of the old tax, in one ſcheme of compa⯑riſon; and about 4000l. leſs, in the other ſcheme. I might remark that the amount of the new tax, in the ſeveral years of the war, by no means bears the proportion, which it ought, to the old. There ſeems to be ſome great irregularity, or other, in the receipt: but I do not think it worth while to exa⯑mine into the argument. I am willing to ſup⯑poſe, that many, who, in the idleneſs of peace, made war upon partridges, hares, and pheaſants, may now carry more noble arms againſt the ene⯑mies of their country. Our political adverſaries may do, what they pleaſe, with that conceſſion. They are welcome to make the moſt of it. I am ſure of a very handſome ſet-off in the other branch of expence; the amuſements of a town-life.

There is much gaiety, and diſſipation, and profuſion, which muſt eſcape and diſappoint all the arithmetick of political oeconomy. But the [135] Theatres are a prominent feature. They are eſta⯑bliſhed through every part of the kingdom, at a coſt unknown till our days. There is hardly a provincial capital, which does not poſſeſs, or which does not aſpire to poſſeſs, a Theatre-Royal. Moſt of them engage, for a ſhort time at a vaſt price, every actor or actreſs of name in the metropolis; a diſtinction, which, in the reign of my old friend Garrick, was confined to very few. The dreſſes, the ſcenes, the decorations of every kind, I am told, are in a new ſtyle of ſplendour and magnifi⯑cence; whether to the advantage of our dramatick taſte, upon the whole, I very much doubt. It is a ſhew, and a ſpectacle, not a play, that is exhibited. This is undoubtedly in the genuine manner of the Auguſtan age, but in a manner, which was cenſur⯑ed by one of the beſt Poets and Criticks of that or any age:

I muſt interrupt the paſſage, moſt fervently to de⯑precate and abominate the ſequel, ‘Mox trahitur manibus Regum fortuna retortis.’ I hope, that no French fraternization, which the relations of peace and amity with ſyſtematized Re⯑gicide, [136] would aſſuredly, ſooner or later, draw after them, even if it ſhould overturn our happy Con⯑ſtitution itſelf, could ſo change the hearts of Eng⯑liſhmen, as to make them delight in repreſenta⯑tions and proceſſions, which have no other merit than that of degrading and inſulting the name of Royalty. But good taſte, manners, morals, reli⯑gion, all fly, wherever the principles of Jacobiniſm enter: and we have no ſafety againſt them but in arms.

The Proprietors, whether in this they follow or lead what is called the town, to furniſh out theſe gaudy and pompous entertainments, muſt col⯑lect ſo much more from the Publick. It was but juſt before the breaking out of hoſtilities, that they levied for themſelves the very tax, which, at the cloſe of the American war, they re⯑preſented to Lord North, as certain ruin to their affairs to demand for the State. The example has ſince been imitated by the Managers of our Italian Opera. Once during the war, if not twice (I would not willingly miſtate any thing, but I am not very accurate on theſe ſubjects) they have raiſed the price of their ſubſcription. Yet I have never heard, that any laſting diſſatisfaction has been manifeſted, or that their houſes have been unuſu⯑ally and conſtantly thin. On the contrary, all the three theatres have been repeatedly altered, and [139] refitted, and enlarged, to make them capacious of the crowds, that nightly flock to them; and one of thoſe huge and lofty piles, which lifts its broad ſhoulders in gigantick pride, almoſt emulous of the temples of God, has been reared from the foun⯑dation at a charge of more than fourſcore thouſand pounds, and yet remains a naked, rough, un⯑ſightly heap.

I am afraid, my dear Sir, that I have tired you with theſe dull, though important details. But we are upon a ſubject, which, like ſome of a higher nature, refuſes ornament, and is contented with conveying inſtruction. I know too, the obſtinacy of unbelief, in thoſe perverted minds, which have no delight, but in contemplating the ſuppoſed diſ⯑treſs, and predicting the immediate ruin, of their country. Theſe birds of evil preſage, at all times, have grated our ears with their melancholy ſong; and, by ſome ſtrange fatality or other, it has gene⯑rally happened, that they have poured forth their loudeſt and deepeſt lamentations, at the periods of our moſt abundant proſperity. Very early in my publick life, I had occaſion to make myſelf a little acquainted with their natural hiſtory. My firſt po⯑litical tract in the collection, which a friend has made of my publications, is an anſwer to a very gloomy picture of the ſtate of the nation, which was thought to have been drawn by a ſtateſman of [140] ſome eminence in his time. That was no more than the common ſpleen of diſappointed ambition: in the preſent day, I fear, that too many are ac⯑tuated by a more malignant and dangerous ſpirit. They hope, by depreſſing our minds with a deſpair of our means and reſources, to drive us, trembling and unreſiſting, into the toils of our enemies, with whom, from the beginning of the Revolution in France, they have ever moved in ſtrict concert and co-operation. If with the report of your Finance Committee in their hands, they can ſtill affect to deſpond, and can ſtill ſucceed, as they do, in ſpreading the contagion of their pretended fears, among well-diſpoſed, though weak men; there is no way of counteracting them, but by fixing them down to particulars. Nor muſt we forget, that they are unwearied agitators, bold aſſertors, dex⯑trous ſophiſters. Proof muſt be accumulated upon proof, to ſilence them. With this view, I ſhall now direct your attention to ſome other ſtriking and unerring indications of our flouriſhing condition; and they will in general, be derived from other ſources, but equally authentick; from other re⯑ports and proceedings of both Houſes of Parlia⯑ment, all which unite with wonderful force of con⯑ſent in the ſame general reſult. Hitherto we have ſeen the ſuperfluity of our capital diſcovering itſelf only in procuring ſuperfluous accommodation and enjoyment, in our houſes, in our furniture, in our [141] eſtabliſhments, in our eating and drinking, our clothing, and our publick diverſions: we ſhall now ſee it more beneficially employed in improving our territory itſelf: we ſhall ſee part of our preſent opu⯑lence, with provident care, put out to uſury for poſ⯑terity.

To what ultimate extent, it may be wiſe or practicable, to puſh incloſures of common and waſte lands, may be a queſtion of doubt, in ſome points of view: but no perſon thinks them already carried to exceſs; and the relative magnitude of the ſums, laid out upon them, gives us a ſtandard of eſtimating the comparative ſituation of the landed intereſt. Your Houſe, this Seſſion, appointed a Committee on Waſte Lands, and they have made a Report by their chairman, an Honourable Baro⯑ronet, for whom the Miniſter the other day, (with very good intentions, I believe, but with little real profit to the publick) thought fit to erect a Board of Agriculture. The account, as it ſtands there, ap⯑pears ſufficiently favourable. The greateſt num⯑ber of incloſing bills, paſſed in any one year of the laſt peace, does not equal the ſmalleſt annual number in the war; and thoſe of the laſt year ex⯑ceed, by more than one half, the higheſt year of peace. But what was my ſurpriſe, on looking into the late report of the Secret Committee of the Lords, to find a liſt of theſe Bills during the war, [...] [142] differing in every year, and ^* larger on the whole, by nearly one third! I have checked this account by the Statute-Book, and find it to be correct. What new brilliancy then does it throw over the proſpect, bright as it was before! The number during the laſt four years, has more than doubled that of the four years immediately preceding; it has ſur⯑paſſed the five years of peace, beyond which the Lords Committees have not gone; it has even ſur⯑paſſed (I have verified the fact) the whole ten years of peace. I cannot ſtop here. I cannot advance a ſingle ſtep in this enquiry, without being obliged to caſt my eyes back to the period when I firſt knew the country. Theſe Bills, which had begun in the reign of Queen Anne, had paſſed every year in greater or leſs numbers from the year 1723; yet in all that ſpace of time, they had not reached the amount of any two years during the preſent war; and though ſoon after that time they rapidly in⯑creaſed, ſtill at the acceſſion of his preſent Majeſty, [143] they were very far ſhort of the number paſſed in the four years of hoſtilities.

In my firſt Letter I mentioned the ſtate of our inland navigation, neglected as it had been from the reign of King William to the time of my ob⯑ſervation. It was not till the preſent reign, that the Duke of Bridgwater's canal firſt excited a ſpirit of ſpeculation and adventure in this way. This ſpi⯑rit ſhewed itſelf, but neceſſarily made no great pro⯑greſs, in the American war. When peace was re⯑ſtored, it began of courſe to work with more ſenſi⯑ble effect; yet in ten years from that event, the Bills paſſed on that ſubject were not ſo many as from the year 1793 to the preſent Seſſion of Parliament. From what I can trace on the Statute-Book, I am confident that all the capital expended in theſe pro⯑jects during the peace, bore no degree of propor⯑tion, (I doubt on very grave conſideration whether all that was ever ſo expended was equal) to the money which has been raiſed for the ſame purpoſes, ſince the war. ^* I know, that in the laſt four years of [144] peace, when they roſe regularly, and rapidly, the ſums ſpecified in the acts were not near one-third of the ſubſequent amount. In the laſt Seſſion of Parliament, the Grand Junction Company, as it is called, having ſunk half a million, (of which I feel the good effects at my own door) applied to your Houſe, for permiſſion to ſubſcribe half as much more, among themſelves. This Grand Junction is an inoſ⯑culation of the Grand Trunk: and in the preſent Seſſion, the latter Company has obtained the au⯑thority of Parliament, to float two hundred acres of land, for the purpoſe of forming a reſervoir, thirty feet deep, two hundred yards wide at the head, and two miles in length; a lake which may almoſt vie with that which feeds, what once was, the now obliterated canal of Languedoc.

The preſent war is, above all others, (of which we have heard or read) a war againſt landed property. That deſcription of property is in it's nature the firm baſe of every ſtable government; and has been ſo con⯑ſidered, by all the wiſeſt writers of the old philoſophy, from the time of the Stagyrite, who obſerves that the agricultural claſs of all others is the leaſt inclined to ſedition. We find it to have been ſo regarded, in the practical politicks of antiquity, where they are brought more directly home to our underſtand⯑ings and boſoms, in the Hiſtory of Rome, and above all, in the writings of Cicero. The country tribes were always thought more reſpectable, than [145] thoſe of the City. And if in our own Hiſtory, there is any one circumſtance to which, under God, are to be attributed the ſteady reſiſtance, the fortu⯑nate iſſue, and ſober ſettlement, of all our ſtruggles for liberty, it is, that while the landed intereſt, inſtead of forming a ſeparate body, as in other countries, has, at all times, been in cloſe connexion and union with the other great intereſts of the country, it has been ſpontaneouſly allowed to lead and direct, and moderate all the reſt. I cannot, therefore, but ſee with ſingular gratification, that during a war which has been eminently made for the deſtruction of the landed proprietors, as well as of Prieſts and Kings, as much has been done, by publick works, for the permanent benefit of their ſtake in this country, as in all the reſt of the current century, which now touches to it's cloſe. Perhaps, after this, it may not be neceſſary to refer to private obſervation; but I am ſatisfied, that in general, the rents of lands have been conſiderably increaſed: they are increaſed very conſiderably indeed, if I may draw any concluſion from my own little property of that kind. I am not ignorant, however, where our pub⯑lick burdens are moſt galling. But all of this claſs will conſider, who they are, that are principally me⯑naced; how little the men of their deſcription in other countries, where this revolutionary fury has but touched, have been found equal to their own pro⯑tection; how tardy, and unprovided, and full of [146] anguiſh is their flight, chained down as they are by every tie to the ſoil; how helpleſs they are, above all other men, in exile, in poverty, in need, in all the varieties of wretchedneſs; and then let them well weigh, what are the burdens, to which they ought not to ſubmit for their own ſalvation.

Many of the authorities, which I have already adduced, or to which I have referred, may convey a competent notion of ſome of our principal manu⯑factures. Their general ſtate will be clear from that of our external and internal commerce, through which they circulate, and of which they are at once, the cauſe and effect. But the communication of the ſeveral parts of the kingdom with each other, and with foreign countries, has always been regard⯑ed as one of the moſt certain teſts to evince the proſ⯑perous or adverſe ſtate of our trade in all it's branches. Recourſe has uſually been had to the revenue of the Poſt Office with this view. I ſhall include the product of the Tax which was laid in the laſt war, and which will make the evidence more concluſive, if it ſhall afford the ſame inference:—I allude to the Poſt-Horſe duty, which ſhews the per⯑ſonal intercourſe within the Kingdom, as the Poſt-Office ſhews the intercourſe by letters, both within and without. The firſt of theſe ſtandards, then, ex⯑hibits an increaſe, according to my former ſchemes of compariſon, from an eleventh to a twentieth part [147] of the ^* whole duty. The Poſt-office, gives ſtill leſs conſolation to thoſe who are miſerable, in propor⯑tion as the country feels no miſery. From the commencement of the war, to the month of April, 1796, the groſs produce had encreaſed by nearly one ſixth of the whole ſum, which the ſtate now derives from that fund. I find that the year end⯑ing 5th of April, 1793, gave £627,5 [...]2, and the year ending at the ſame quarter in 1796, £.750,637. after a fair deduction having been made for the al⯑teration (which, you know, on grounds of policy I never approved) in your privilege of franking. I have ſeen no formal document ſubſequent to that period, but I have been credibly informed, there is very good ground to believe, that the revenue of the ^† Poſt-office ſtill continues to be regularly and largely upon the riſe.

[148]What is the true inference to be drawn from the annual number of Bankruptcies, has been the occa⯑ſion of much diſpute. On one ſide, it has been confidently urged as a ſure ſymptom of a decaying trade: on the other ſide, it has been inſiſted, that it is a circumſtance attendant upon a thriving trade; for that the greater is the whole quantity of trade, the greater of courſe muſt be the poſitive number of failures, while the aggregate ſucceſs is ſtill in the ſame proportion. In truth, the increaſe of the [149] number, may ariſe from either of thoſe cauſes. But all muſt agree in one concluſion, that, if the num⯑ber diminiſhes, and at the ſame time, every other ſort of evidence tends to ſhew an augmentation of trade, there can be no better indication. We have already had very ample means of gathering, that the year 1796 was a very favourable year of trade, and in that year the number of Bankruptcies was at leaſt one-fifth below the uſual average. I take this from ^* the Declaration of the Lord ChanITEMor in the Houſe of Lords. He profeſſed to ſpeak from the records of Chancery; and he added another very ſtriking fact, that on the property actually paid into his Court (a very ſmall part, indeed, of the whole property of the kingdom) there had accrued in that year a nett ſurplus of eight hundred thou⯑ſand pounds, which was ſo much new capital.

But the real ſituation of our trade, during the whole of this war, deſerves mo [...]e minute inveſtiga⯑tion. I ſhall begin with that, which, though the leaſt in conſequence, makes perhaps the moſt im⯑preſſion on our ſenſes, becauſe it meets our eyes in our daily walks;—I mean our retail trade. The ex⯑uberant diſplay of wealth in our ſhops was the ſight, which moſt amazed a learned foreigner of diſtinc⯑tion, [150] who lately reſided among us: his expreſſion, I remember, was, that "they ſeemed to be burſting with opulence into the ſtreets." The documents, which throw light on this ſubject, are not many; but they all meet in the ſame point: all concur in exhibiting an increaſe. The moſt material are the General Licences ^* which the law requires to be taken out by all dealers in exciſeable commodities. Theſe ſeem to be ſubject to conſiderable fluctuations. They have not been ſo low in any year of the war, as in the years 1788 and 1789, nor ever ſo high in peace, as in the firſt year of the war. I ſhould next ſtate the licences to dealers in Spirits and Wine, but the change in them which took place in 1789 would give an unfair advantage to my ar⯑gument. I ſhall therefore content myſelf with re⯑marking, that from the date of that change the ſpirit licences kept nearly the ſame level till the ſtoppage of the Diſtilleries in 1795. If they drop⯑ped a little, and it was but little, the Wine Licen⯑ces during the ſame time, more than countervailed [151] that loſs to the revenue; and it is remarkable with regard to the latter, that in the year 1796, which was the loweſt in the exciſe duties on wine itſelf, as well as in the quantity imported, more dealers in wine appear to have been licenced, than in any for⯑mer year, excepting the firſt year of the war. This fact may raiſe ſome doubt, whether the conſump⯑tion has been leſſened ſo much, as I believe, is com⯑monly imagined The only other retail-traders, whom I found ſo entered as to admit of being ſe⯑lected, are Tea-Dealers, and ſellers of Gold and Sil⯑ver Plate; both of whom ſeem to have multiplied very much in proportion to their aggregate number ^*. [152] I have kept apart one ſet of licenced ſellers, becauſe I am aware, that our antagoniſts may be inclin⯑ed to triumph a little, when I name Auctioneers and Auctions. They may be diſpoſed to conſider it as a ſort of trade, which thrives by the diſtreſs of others. But if they will look at it a little more attentively, they will find their gloomy comfort vaniſh. The publick income from theſe licences, has riſen with very great regularity, through a ſeries of years, which all muſt admit to have been years of pro⯑ſperity. It is remarkable too, that in the year 1793, which was the great year of Bankruptcies, theſe ^* duties on Auctioneers and Auctions, fell be⯑low the mark of 1791; and in 1796, which year had one fifth leſs than the accuſtomed average of Bankruptcies, they mounted at once beyond all for⯑mer examples. In concluding this general head, will you permit me, my dear Sir, to bring to your notice an humble, but induſtrious and laborious ſet of chapmen againſt whom the vengeance of your Houſe has ſometimes been levelled, with what policy I need [153] not ſtay to enquire, as they have eſcaped without much injury? ^* The Hawkers and Pedlars, I am aſ⯑ſured, are ſtill doing well, though from ſome new arrangements reſpecting them made in 1789, it would be difficult to trace their proceedings in any ſatisfactory manner.

When ſuch is the vigour of our traffick in it's mi⯑nuteſt ramifications, we may be perſuaded that the root and the trunk are ſound. When we ſee the life-blood of the State circulate ſo freely through the capillary veſſels of the ſyſtem, we ſcarcely need enquire, if the heart performs its functions aright. But let us approach it; let us lay it bare, and watch the ſyſtole and diaſtole, as it now re⯑ceives, and now pours forth the vital ſtream through all the members. The port of London [154] has always ſupplied the main evidence of the ſtate of our commerce. I know, that amidſt all the difficulties and embarraſſments of the year 1793, from cauſes unconnected with, and prior to the war, the tonnage of ſhips in the Thames actually roſe. But I ſhall not go through a detail of offi⯑cial papers on this point. There is evidence which has appeared this very ſeſſion before your Houſe, infinitely more forcible and impreſſive to my apprehenſion, than all the journals and ledgers of all the Inſpectors General from the days of Davenant. It is ſuch as cannot carry with it any ſort of fallacy. It comes, not from one ſet, but from many oppoſite ſets of witneſſes, who all agree in nothing elſe; witneſſes of the graveſt and moſt unexceptionable character, and who confirm what they ſay, in the ſureſt manner, by their con⯑duct. Two different bills have been brought in for improving the port of London. I have it from very good intelligence, that when the project was firſt ſuggeſted from neceſſity, there were no leſs than eight different plans, ſupported by eight dif⯑ferent bodies of ſubſcribers. The coſt of the leaſt was eſtimated at two hundred thouſand pounds, and of the moſt extenſive, at twelve hundred thouſand. The two, between which the conteſt now lies, ſub⯑ſtantially agree (as all the others muſt have done) in the motives and reaſons of the preamble: but I ſhall confine myſelf to that bill which is propoſed [155] on the part of the Mayor, Aldermen, and common Council, becauſe I regard them as the beſt au⯑thority, and their language in itſelf is fuller and more preciſe. I certainly ſee them complain of the "great delays, accidents, damages, loſſes, and extraordinary expences, which are almoſt continu⯑ally ſuſtained, to the hindrance and diſcourage⯑ment of commerce, and the great injury of the publick avenues." But what are the cauſes to which they attribute their complaints? The firſt is, ‘THAT FROM THE VERY GREAT AND PRO⯑GRESSIVE INCREASE OF THE NUMBER AND SIZE OF SHIPS AND OTHER VESSELS, TRADING TO THE PORT OF LONDON; the River Thames is, in general, ſo much crouded that the navigation of a conſiderable part of the river is rendered tedious and dangerous; and there is much want of room for the ſafe and convenient mooring of veſſels, and conſtant acceſs to them.’ The ſecond is of the ſame nature. It is the want of regulations and arrangements, never be⯑fore found neceſſary, for expedition and facility. The third is of another kind, but to the ſame ef⯑fect: ‘that the legal quays are too confined, and there is not ſufficient accommodation for the landing and ſhipping of cargoes.’ And the fourth and laſt is ſtill different; they deſcribe ‘the ave⯑nues to the legal quays,’ (which little more than a century ſince, the great fire of London opened [156] and dilated beyond the meaſure of our then cir⯑cumſtances) to be now ‘much too narrow, and incommodious, for the great concourſe of carts and other carriages uſually paſſing and repaſſing there.’ Thus, our trade has grown too big for the ancient limits of art and nature. Our ſtreets, our lanes, our ſhores, the river itſelf, which has ſo long been our pride, are impeded, and obſtructed, and choaked up by our riches. They are like our ſhops, "burſting with opulence." To theſe mis⯑fortunes, to theſe diſtreſſes and grievances alone, we are told it is to be imputed, that ſtill more of our capital has not been puſhed into the chan⯑nel of our commerce, to roll back in it's reflux ſtill more abundant capital, and fructify the national treaſury in it's courſe. Indeed, my dear Sir, when I have before my eyes this conſentient teſtimony of the Corporation of the City of London, the Weſt-India Merchants, and all the other Merchants who promoted the other plans, ſtruggling and contend⯑ing, which of them ſhall be permitted to lay out their money in conſonance with their teſtimony; I cannot turn aſide to examine what one or two vio⯑lent petitions, tumultuouſly voted by real or pre⯑tended Liverymen of London, may have ſaid of the utter deſtruction and annihilation of trade.

This opens a ſubject, on which every true lover of his country, and at this criſis, every friend to [157] the liberties of Europe, and of ſocial order in every country, muſt dwell and expatiate with delight. I mean to wind up all my proofs of our aſtoniſhing and almoſt incredible proſperity, with the valuable information given to the Se⯑cret Committee of the Lords by the Inſpector-General. And here I am happy that I can ad⯑miniſter an antidote to all deſpondence, from the ſame diſpenſary from which the firſt doſe of poiſon was ſuppoſed to have come. The Report of that Committee is generally believed to have been drawn up, (and it is certainly done with great ability) by the fame noble Lord, who was ſaid, as the au⯑thor of the pamphlet of 1795, to have led the way in teaching us to place all our hope on that very ex⯑periment, which he afterwards declared in his place to have been from the beginning utterly without hope. We have now his authority to ſay, that as far as our reſources were concerned, the ex⯑periment was equally without neceſſity.

‘It appears, as he has very juſtly and ſatisfacto⯑rily obſerved, by the accounts of the value of the imports and exports for the laſt twenty years, produced by Mr. Irving, that the demand for caſh to be ſent abroad’ (which by the way, includ⯑ing the loan to the Emperor, was nearly one third leſs ſent to the Continent of Europe, than in the ſeven years war) ‘was greatly compen⯑ſated [158] by a very large balance of commerce in favour of this kingdom; greater than was ever known in any preceding period. The value of the exports of the laſt year amounted, according to the valuation on which the accounts of the In⯑ſpector General are founded, to £.30,424,184; which is more than double what it was in any year of the American war, and one third more than it was on an average during the laſt peace, previous to the year 1792; and though the value of the imports to this country has, during the ſame peace, greatly increaſed, the exceſs of the value of the exports above that of the imports, which conſtitutes the balance of trade, has aug⯑mented even in a greater proportion.’ Theſe obſervations might perhaps be branched out into other points of view, but I ſhall leave them to your own active and ingenious mind. There is another, and ſtill more important light in which the Inſpector General's information may be ſeen; and that is, as affording a compariſon of ſome circumſtances in this war, with the commercial hiſtory of all our other wars in the preſent century.

In all former hoſtilities, our exports gradually declined in value, and then (with one ſingle excep⯑tion) aſcended again, till they reached and paſſed the level of the preceding peace. But this was a work of time, ſometimes more, ſometimes leſs ſlow. [159] In Queen Anne's war, which began in 1702, it was an interval of ten years, before this was effected. Nine years only were neceſſary in the war of 1739, for the ſame operation. The ſeven years war ſaw the period much ſhortened: hoſtilities began in 1755, and in 1758, the fourth year of the war, the ex⯑ports mounted above the peace-mark. There was, however, a diſtinguiſhing feature of that war, that our tonnage, to the very laſt moment, was in a ſtate of great depreſſion, while our commerce was chiefly carried on by foreign veſſels. The American war was darkened with ſingular and peculiar adverſity. Our exports never came near to their peaceful ele⯑vation, and our tonnage continued with very little fluctuation, to ſubſide lower and lower ^*. On the other hand, the preſent war, with regard to our com⯑merce, has the white mark of as ſingular felicity. If from internal cauſes, as well as the conſequence of hoſtilities, the tide ebbed in 1793, it ruſhed back again with a bore in the following year; and from that time has continued to ſwell, and run, every ſucceſſive year, higher and higher into all our ports. The value of our exports laſt year above the year 1792 (the mere increaſe of our commerce during the war) is equal to the average value of [160] all the exports during the wars of William and Anne.

It has been already pointed out, that our imports have not kept pace with our exports; of courſe, on the face of the account, the balance of trade, both poſitively and comparatively conſidered, muſt have been much more than ever in our favour. In that early little tract of my mine, to which I have already more than once referred, I made many ob⯑ſervations on the uſual method of computing that balance, as well as the uſual objection to it, that the entries at the Cuſtom-Houſe were not always true. As you probably remember them, I ſhall not repeat them here. On the one hand, I am not ſurpriſed that the ſame trite objection is perpetually renewed by the detractors of our national affluence; and on the other hand I am gratified in perceiving, that the balance of trade ſeems to be now computed in a manner much clearer, than it uſed to be, from thoſe errors which I formerly noticed. The Inſpector-General appears to have made his eſtimate with every poſſible guard and caution. His opinion is entitled to the greateſt reſpect. It was in ſub⯑ſtance (I ſhall again uſe the words of the noble Re⯑porter, as much better than my own) ‘That the true balance of our trade amounted, on a me⯑dium of the four years preceding January 1796, to upwards of £.6,50 [...],000, per annum, exclu⯑ſive [161] of the profits ariſing from our Eaſt and Weſt India trade, which he eſtimates at upwards of £.4,000,000 per annum; excluſive of the profits derived from our fiſheries.’ So that in⯑cluding the fiſheries, and making a moderate allow⯑ance for the exceedings, which Mr. Irving himſelf ſuppoſes, beyond his calculation; without reckon⯑ing, what the publick creditors themſelves pay to themſelves, and without taking one ſhilling from the ſtock of the landed intereſt; our colonies, our oriental poſſeſſions, our ſkill and induſtry, our commerce, and navigation, at the commencement of this year, were pouring a new annual capital into the kingdom; hardly half a million ſhort of the whole intereſt of that tremendous debt, from which we are taught to ſhrink in diſmay, as from an overwhelming and intolerable oppreſſion.

If then the real ſtate of this nation is ſuch as I have deſcribed, and I am only apprehenſive, that you may think, I have taken too much pains to exclude all doubt on this queſtion; if no claſs is leſſened in it's numbers, or in it's ſtock, or in it's conveniencies, or even it's luxuries; if they build as many habitations, and as elegant and as commo⯑dious as ever, and furniſh them with every charge⯑able decoration, and every prodigality of ingenious invention, that can be thought of by thoſe who even encumber their neceſſities with ſuperfluous ac⯑commodation; [162] if they are as numerouſly attended; if their equipages are as ſplendid; if they regale at table with as much or more variety of plenty than ever; if they are clad in as expenſive and changeful a diverſity according to their taſtes and modes; if they are not deterred from the pleaſures of the field by the charges, which Government has wiſely turned from the culture to the ſports of the field; if the theatres are as rich and as well filled and greater, and at a higher price than ever; (and, what is more important than all) if it is plain from the treaſures which are ſpread over the ſoil, or confided to the winds and the ſeas, that there are as many who are indulgent to their propenſities of parſimony, as others to their volup⯑tuous deſires, and that the pecuniary capital grows inſtead of diminiſhing; on what ground are we au⯑thorized to ſay, that a nation, gamboling in an ocean of ſuperfluity is undone by want? With what face can we pretend, that they who have not denied any one gratification to any one appetite, have a right to plead poverty in order to famiſh their vir⯑tues, and to put their duties on ſhort allowance? That they are to take the law from an imperious enemy, and can contribute no longer to the honour of their king, to the ſupport of the independence of their country, to the ſalvation of that Europe, which, if it falls, much cruſh them with its gigantick ruins? How can they affect to ſweat, and ſtagger, and groan [163] under their burthens, to whom the mines of New⯑foundland, richer than thoſe of Mexico and Peru, are now thrown in as a make-weight in the ſcale of their exorbitant opulence? How can they faint, and creep, and cringe, and proſtrate themſelves at the footſtool of ambition and crime, who, during a ſhort though violent ſtruggle, which they have ne⯑ver ſupported with the energy of men, have amaſſed more to their annual accumulation, than all the well-huſbanded capital, that enabled their anceſ⯑tors by long, and doubtful, and obſtinate conflicts, to protect, and liberate, and vindicate the civilized world. But I do not accuſe the people of Eng⯑land. As to the great majority of them, they have done whatever in their ſeveral ranks, and condi⯑tions, and deſcriptions, was required of them by their relative ſituations in ſociety; and from thoſe the great maſs of mankind cannot depart, without the ſubverſion of all publick order. They look up to that Government, which they obey that they may be protected. They aſk to be led and directed by thoſe rulers, whom Providence and the laws of their country have ſet over them, to the attainment of their own ſafety, and welfare, and honour. They have again delegated the greateſt truſt, which they have to beſtow, to thoſe faithful repreſentatives who made their true voice heard againſt the diſturbers and deſtroyers of Europe. They ſuffered, with unap⯑proving acquieſcence, ſolicitations to an unjuſt and [164] uſurping Power, whom they did not provoke, and whoſe hoſtile menaces they did not dread. When the exigencies of the publick ſervice could only be met by their voluntary zeal, they ſtarted forth with an ardour, which outſtripped the deſires of thoſe, who had injured them by doubting, whether it might not be neceſſary to have recourſe to compulſion. They have, in all things, repoſed an enduring, but not an unreflecting confidence. That confidence demands a full return. It fixes a reſponſibility on the Miniſters entire and undivided. The people ſtand acquitted, if the war is not carried on in a manner ſuited to it's objects. If the pub⯑lick ſafety ſuffers any detriment, they are to anſwer it, and they alone. It's armies, it's navies, are given to them without ſtint or reſtriction. It's trea⯑ſures are poured out at their feet. It's conſtancy is ready to ſecond all their efforts. They are not to fear a reſponſibility for acts of manly adventure. The reſponſibility which they are to dread, is, leſt they ſhould ſhew themſelves unequal to the expec⯑tation of a brave people. The more doubtful may be the conſtitutional and oeconomical queſtions, upon which they have received ſo marked a ſup⯑port, the more loudly they are called upon to ſup⯑port this great war, for the ſucceſs of which their country is willing to ſuperſede conſiderations of no ſlight importance. Where I ſpeak of reſponſibility, I do not mean to exclude that ſpecies of it, which [165] the legal powers of the country have a right finally to exact from thoſe who abuſe a publick truſt; but high as this is, there is a reſponſibility which at⯑taches on them, from which the whole legitimate power of the kingdom cannot abſolve them; there is a reſponſibility to conſcience and to glory; a re⯑ſponſibility to the exiſting world, and to that poſ⯑terity, which men of their eminence cannot avoid for glory or for ſhame; a reſponſibility to a tribu⯑nal, at which, not only Miniſters, but Kings and Parliaments, but even Nations themſelves, muſt one day anſwer.