political judgment, nearly on a level. Now however, the character and system of Buonaparte are become matters not of speculation but experience, while his power seems to be irreversibly established: consequently the hopes which justified the treaty of Amiens, could not now be rationally admitted, even if the state of Europe were equally favourable to peace.

But the most important distinction between that case and the present, is to be found in the much altered, and now deplorable state of the continent. The great military powers, our natural allies, were then left in a condition to keep in check the ambition of France, by a timely union; and in this we had some apparent se curity for her future moderation, which is now entirely lost.

In this respect, the case is most decisively altered for the worse, even since the late negociation at Paris. Neither the example therefore of the administration which treated at Amiens, nor that of the present cabinet and Mr. Fox, would afford any sanction for a new experiment upon the good faith and moderation of France, after the battle of Auerstadt, and the total ruin of Prussia.

Surely the ungrateful treatment of that power, will convince us of the extreme folly of hoping to conciliate Napoleon by a timid pacific system. If not, we shall give a more striking instance than has yet been exhibited of that infatuation which prepares for him his victims; since England has at present a security in war, that neither Prussia nor Austria possessed.

Such are my reasons for thinking that a peace with Buonaparte, would not lessen,, but aggravate our dangers.-Those who maintain the contrary, are prudently sparing of explanations. They hold it enough to spread before our eyes the dangers and inconveniences of war, without shewing how they are to be diminished by peace; or what possible hope we have, that any peace we can make will be lasting.

In a view to finances indeed, they say, how are we long to carry on the war?—I admit the difficulty, but retort the question, how are we to carry on the peace?

Dares any minister promise us a peace which will so far deliver us from the necessity of defensive precautions, as greatly to diminish our expenses?—But to justify a negociation in this view, its advocates should go much farther, and shew, that contrary to the calculations of our merchants, peace will make no shrink in our commercial revenue; otherwise the diminution of import and export duties, may be more than equal to any possible saving of expenditure. Some statesmen are said to assert, that we may by persevering in

the system of finance, established by Mr. Pitt, soon find resources for prosecuting the war without any additional taxes; but nobody I believe will maintain, that a peace destructive of our commerce would be consistent with any such hope.

If our finances were likely to be improved in peace, it would be a new and decisive reason with Buonaparte for the speedy renewal of war. But without taking any such motive into the account, it must be, and is admitted, even by the most sanguine advocates for a peace, that its duration would be in the highest degree precarious. We must therefore set against the very slender chance of financial savings by a pacific system, the probable and vast expense of renewing, at an early period, our war establishments, after they may have been broken up or reduced.

When these considerations are fairly weighed, it will appear very doubtful whether a steady prosecution of the war be not the most economical, as well as the safest course, we can at present pursue. That would at least, I dare affirm, be the case, supposing the war to be conducted upon right principles, and such as the duty of self-preservation, at this awful crisis, demands. If we are still to persevere in military expeditions to distant countries, those sure sources of enormous peculation and waste, the war indeed may be costly enough; but if we wisely keep at home the army which may be essential to our domestic safety, act only on the defensive on shore, and assert firmly our belligerent rights on the ocean, we shall find it more frugal by far to continue at open war, than to suspend hostilities again for a year or two, by an anxious and dangerous, peace. Such a use of our maritime power as the state of Europe, and of the world, would abundantly justify, and as the late conduct of the enemy invites, would give us means of maintaining the contest for fifty years if necessary, without an additional tax, except such as France, her allies, and the states under her influence would pay.

The only additional argument for sheathing the sword that is commonly urged, appears to me perfectly frivolous, "If we continue the war, it is said, from a dread of making peace with France in her present state of aggrandisement, we may continue it for ever; for we cannot deprive her of her conquests." Permanent war, no doubt is a dreadful idea; but let it be contrasted, as (to meet fairly the present arguments for war,) it ought, with permanent servitude to France, and perhaps its horrors will vanish.

The objection however supposes, that because we cannot dislodge the enemy from his present possessions, they must of course

be perpetual; and that all the other dangers which forbid a pacific system at the present alarming juncture, are also interminable. But if the territorial aggrandisement of France, and what is not less dangerous, the talents, strength, and ambition of her present government, are to last for ever, so much the less can we afford to divide with her the possession of the sea. If in that case, the naval power of the enemy is to vegetate long and freely upon the enormous fields of dominion now plowed up for its culture, farewel to every hope of our permanent safety: but we may now cut off from it by war, that maritime carriage and trade, which are essential to its nu trition and growth.

For my part, I regard neither Buonaparte, nor his conquests, nor his ambitious system, as immortal; though all may live long enough for the ruin of England, if we give him a peace at this junc

ture.

Judging from historical examples, and natural probability, which notwithstanding the strange occurrences of the age, we must still do, if we would anticipate future events, I cannot believe that the new erected empire of France will long survive the builder. It has been put together too hastily, and with too many unseasoned materials, to be durable. It may even fall by the rupture of that military scaffolding by which it was raised. The deposed sovereigns may probably not be restored, nor the conquered nations delivered from a foreign master; but it seems probable that the captains of this second Alexander, will at his decease at least, if not during his life, carve out for themselves their respective kingdoms, without much respect for the claims of the Corsican family. He has already shewn them the way to take up crowns with the sword, and has whetted their appetite for sovereign power, by the elevation of their comrades. France, therefore, may like Macedon, be soon glad to maintain her ancient borders against those who conquered in her name; and new political combinations, may produce a new balance of power in Europe. The conqueror himself even, may possibly meet the fate of his brother emperors, Cæsar, and Dessa-> lines; and if we must at last fall, it will be something at least, to have escaped by a protracted war, the yoke of Buonaparte.

We should dread subjection to this man, beyond all other foreign masters; not only because he personally hates us, and all that is most noble among us; but because, of all those scourges of mankind called conquerors, there has been none more truly odious.

And here let me deprecate with just alarm, let me reprobate with honest indigation, the grovelling sentiments that would ascribe

to this phænomenon and reproach of our age, the character of a hero, or the appellation of Great. Should we unhappily fall under his yoke, we shall be compelled like Frenchmen to praise him; but let us not prematurely teach our children to admire, or even to view him without abhorrence. It is of some importance to the cause of morals, and more to the temporal destiny of mankind, that the standard of heroism should not be reduced to the low level of Buonaparte.

There has always been in the world a fatal propensity to admire those pests of our species, called conquerors, and to pay them in fame the wages for which they labour in the fields of blood. But this error has in general one excuse. We commonly observe in this mischievous race, as in the lion, a savage dignity at least, if not a generosity of character. Even in their crimes there is a sublimity, which inspires terror indeed, and perhaps indignation, but not disgust or contempt. How different the man, who after the battle of Auerstadt, could send forth those pitiful bulletins against an unhappy woman, and a queen, which have appeared in the French gazettes; who has repeatedly indulged the same paltry spite against the unfortunate queen of Naples, and the brave Englishman that foiled him in Syria; who refused to allow the body of the gallant old duke of Brunswick to be laid in the tomb of his ancestors; and who in the case of Trafalgar, and many other instances, has not scrupled to disgrace himself in the eyes of all Europe, by the grossest forgeries and falsehoods.

I fear that the detestation due to this last mean part of Buonaparte's character, begins to wear out, from the frequency of its exhibition. Let us recollect then if we can, any other man in ancient or modern story, known by the appellation of Great, who ever stooped to the pitiful tricks of systematic falsehood, in their public relations of facts. To the dignity of ancient heroism the vice was utterly unknown; and though in our modern wars with the kings of France, accounts of battles are said to have been unfair, at least on the side of our enemies, the misrepresentations have been such as might, in good measure, be ascribed to the deceptious reports of subordinate commanders, or to the sincere partiality of self-love. The misrepresentations of the Brussels gazettes became in the last reign proverbial; yet the French king was probably more the dupe of flattery, than the author of wilful falsehood. Widely different however, were the glosses and strongest distortions of facts used in those days, from the shameless effrontery which could represent our glorious victory at Trafalgar as a battle in which we

had lost fifteen or sixteen ships of the line, and forge letters from Gibraltar to confirm the vile imposture.

There is even a generical difference between this mean habit of Napoleon, and the falsehoods ever before used by any monarch who has stooped to this grovelling vice. Deceits have been practised privately in the cabinet; but they have been regarded, at least by those misjudging minds which used them, as the lawful circumvention of an enemy or a rival; and such violations of truth, have commonly been perpetrated in the hope of escaping detection. But the mendacious gazettes of Buonaparte, differ from such secret and par ticular crimes, as open prostitution, differs from a private intrigue. He publishes without a blush, relations the gross falsehood of which he knows to be notorious at the moment to every man in Europe, except those who are prevented from reading any newspapers but his own; and which must soon lose their credit even with his own de luded subjects. For a temporary domestic purpose, this mighty monarch is content to incur an infamy from which every gentleman shrinks with abhorrence, and the proper epithet for which is too low to sully these sheets.

If any man can regard a contemptible trait of character like this, as compatible with true greatness, let him look to another criterion. There is a comity in heroism, and a sympathy between great minds, which have secured to illustrious characters, when fallen, respect and kindness from their conquerors. Antiquity abounds with examples of such magnanimity, which we admire, though we feel, at the same time, that they could hardly be of difficult practice. But the pseudoheroism of Buonaparte, has no such amiable feature.

I will not stop to illustrate his odious want of sensibility in such cases, by instances to which Europe has been sufficiently awake; but refer to one that appears to me the most remarkable and shameful.

He had once an illustrious opponent, who attracted much atten tion in the present day, and will probably be still more admired in the calm view of future ages; I mean that extraordinary African Toussaint. Napoleon himself pronounced his eulogy in these terms; "Called by his talents to the chief command in St. Domingo, he "preserved the island to France during a long and arduous foreign

war, in which she could do nothing to support him. He destroy❝ed civil war, put an end to the persecutions of ferocious men, and "restored to honour the religion and worship of God, from whom "all things come." The praise when bestowed, was by no means

Speech of July or August, 1802, in the London newspapers of August 9th