much distinguished in the house by that power of compression, and that union of elegance with gravity, which required a calm, as well as a comprehensive understanding. No man was more master of himself, as well of his audience; no man was less likely to be hurried away by the impetuosi

tice of our intentions towards her, and that our object was to rest our connexion upon the foundation of reciprocal confidence.

Speech of Sir JAMES MACKINTOSH, on Bonaparte's Escape from Elba.

Sir James Mackintosh said, that he should not undertake to decide whether any thing substantially new had been, or could be added to the judicious and unexaggerated statement of his honourable and learned friend (Mr. Abercrombie); but sure he was, that whoever were to know the excellent speech of his learned friend only from the answer which had been attempted to it, must be totally mistaken in its purport and scope. The question was not, as it had been argued on the other side, whether there was a case for the conviction of ministers, but whether parliamentary ground was laid for inquiry into their conduct. On the question thus stated, he really could - scarcely see a plausible pretext for difference of opinion. The right hon. gentleman (Mr. B. Bathurst) had indeed been pleased to charge the representations made on this side of the house of the mischievous effects of this fatal error with exaggeration, and had deigned in his generosity to say that he made allowance for the feelings of his right hon. friend (Mr. Elliott)-so

his right hon. friend been so unfortunate as to incur the indulgence, and require the merciful consideration of the right hon. gentleman? Could any feeling be too warm for the case? Was it in the power of eloquence to magnify the evil? Wars which had raged for twenty-five years throughout Europe; which had spread blood and desolation from Cadiz to Moscow, and from Naples to Copenhagen; which had wasted the means of human enjoyment, and destroyed the instruments of social improvement; which threatened to diffuse among the European nations the dissolute and ferocious habits of a predatory soldiery; at length, by one of those vicissitudes which bid defiance to the foresight of man, had been brought to a close, upon the whole, happy, beyond all reasonable expectation, with no violent shock to national independence, with some tolerable compromise between the opinions of the age, and the reverence due to ancient institutions; with no too signal or mortifying triumph over the legitimate interests, or avowable feelings of any numerous body of men; and, above all, without those retaliations against nations or parties which beget new convulsions often as horrible as those which they close, and perpetuate revenge, and hatred, and blood from age to age. Europe seemed to breathe after her suffer

ings. In the midst of this fair pros

pect, and of these consolatory hopes, Napoleon Bonaparte escaped from Elba; three small vessels reached the coast of Provence; their hopes are instantly dispelled, the work of our toil and fortitude is undone, the blood of Europe is spilt in vain

Ibi omnis effusus labor!

We had now to commence a new career of peril, at least as formidable as that from which we had fondly hoped that we had been for ever delivered. Was this a case of which it was easy to exaggerate the evils? Could his right hon. friend have felt lukewarmly on such a subject, without throwing doubts on the sincerity of his love for his country, and of his regard for the general welfare of long-harassed Europe? Surely if he had on such an occasion deviated from the usual calm dignity of his eloquence, he might rather be praised than excused. And was this a case in which the house would refuse to inquire whether the misconduct of the government of Great Britain had any share in bringing so many evils on Europe?

Some insinuations had been thrown out of differences of opinion on his side of the house, respecting the evils of this escape. He utterly denied them. All agreed in lamenting the occurrence which rendered the renewal of war SO probable, not to say certain. All his friends, with whose opinions he was acquainted, were of opinion that in the theory of public law, the assumption of power by Napoleon had given to the allies a just cause of war against France. It was perfectly obvious that the abdication of Napoleon, and his perpetual renunciation of the supreme authority, was a condition,

and the most important condition on which the allies had granted peace to France. The convention of Fontainbleau, and the treaty of Paris, were equally parts of the great compact which re-established friendship between France and Europe. In consideration of the safer and more inoffensive state of France when separated from her terrible leader, confederated Europe had granted moderate and favourable terms of peace. As soon as France had violated this important condition by again submitting to the authority of Napoleon, the allies were doubtless released from their part of the compact, and reentered into their belligerent rights.

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By the dissolution of the treaty of Paris, war was in right renewed. It depended upon the prudence of the allies whether they should exercise their belligerent right, or seek security in negotiation. But as against France a war to compel the observance of the treaty of Paris, was indubitably just. On these matters he knew of no difference among his friendsshades of difference might, indeed, exist among so numerous a body of independent men other parts of the subject. Some might doubt more than others whether recourse to hostilities, in the first instance, were wise; whether it were safe and consistent with the duty of the allied sovereigns to their own subjects, and to all Europe. Justice, as against the enemy, is an indispensable, but sometimes the smallest part of the morality of a war. To be just towards subjects, towards allies, and towards posterity, princes must be convinced of the prudence and safety of war, as much as of its being justified by the conduct of an enemy. What is called the

greater part of its whole morality than what is too exclusively termed its justice. On this question differences probably might appear. Some, and of which number he owned that he was one, shrunk from the experiment of new war without at least some attempt to try whether the same end, even if more imperfectly, might not be obtained by means less hazardous. He dreaded the dangers of failure, he dreaded the dangers of success; he dreaded the renewal of our former calamities, he dreaded the rise of new and unknown evils. But all were agreed in deploring an event which rendered war so probable, though, as many hoped, not inevitable. Those who feared war the most, were surely consistent with themselves in deeply lamenting what exposed us to such imminent danger of its renewal; and all must concur in thinking, that if that danger had in any degree arisen from the supine negligence of ministers, they were reprehensible and culpable. Did enough appear on the face of the transaction to call for inquiry? That was the question. For if there did, men of all opinions about the prudence of war, ought to agree for voting for the inquiry.

The fact was admitted by the noble lord, that no instructions had been given to the commanders of British ships of war respecting the escape of Napoleon. It was therefore acknowledged, that this government had not taken the only precaution within its province against that event. He could conceive only three reasons which might be alleged in defence of this omission:-Either such precautions were unnecessary, or they were unjustifiable, or they were mpossible. The noble lord had,

all these defences. For he had told the house, that though there were no instructions to naval officers, yet there was "an understanding" (which, by-the-bye, was the only understanding discoverable in the matter), that Napoleon should be detained if met at sea in a certain ill-defined and obscurely-described combination of circumstances. A right hon.gentleman had varied the phraseology

and told us, that not only "an understanding," but "an impression" of this sort had been conveyed to these gallant officers. The difficulty of the question was too great for instructions. The admiralty, the cabinet, the great civil lawyers who advised the crown, could hazard no advice. But the captains of ships of war were to act on their own responsibility, guided only by these precise and well-defined terms, an understanding," and "an impression." But if it was necessary, or justifiable, or possible, to act on an understanding, or an impression, it could neither be needless, nor culpable, nor impossible to frame instructions. The only difference was, that instructions might be effectual. The understanding and the impression left naval officers ignorant of what was required from them, and what they might lawfully do. But it is clear that inefficiency is no palliation of impropriety, and that whatever may be and ought to be done at all, may be, and ought to be done in the most effectual manner. The noble lord was not to tell the house, "I was a little guilty of the folly and injustice of watching Bonaparte; but it was very little indeed, for I did it so foolishly, that it was sure of producing no effect." He was not to say, "We should

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have been glad if the captains of ships of war had watched and intercepted Napoleon. We could not decide the difficulty, nor encounter the danger."

On the practicability of watching Elba, he should have been glad to have heard the observations of his hon. friend (Mr. Douglas) whose local knowledge would give weight to his opinion. Instead of that local information, his hon. friend had recourse to general reasoning, in which his superiority was not altogether so undisputed. He had indulged in some topics fit for more vulgar mouths, unworthy of his character, and beneath his rising talents. He had told the house, that apologies for Napoleon's escape had originated here, and that from speeches made in parliament he had learnt to defend himself by urging the ininfraction of the convention of Fontainbleau on the other side, the design to remove him from Elba, the seizure of the property of his family in France, and the non-payment of his stipulated revenue by Louis XVIII. But he must appeal to his hon. friend's more accurate recollection, whether, in the societies where they met at Paris in December, they had not heard these things loudly stated before the facts were known to any gentleman in this house? He asked him, whether these charges were confined to the partizans of Napoleon, and whether, on the contrary, the conduct of the government was not deplored by its best friends, who considered these measures as acts, at least, of folly, which it was easy to represent as acts of injustice? But little had been said here on the subject of practicability, and, indeed, little could be said with effect, unless it could be absolutely demonstrated that no at

tempt could be made to watch the ports of Elba, which could in any degree diminish the chance of escape. Physical impossibility, absolute certainty of total failure, could be the only defence where even a little chance of a small diminution was an object of great importance. Would it be said that such vigilance was needless? Was it supposed that Napoleon could patiently bury all his projects and passions in a little island of the Tuscan sea? That he could renounce all the habits of his life, and relinquish for ever that fearful activity in which his stupendous faculties had been unceasingly exercised? Did any man expect that he, for whose boundless ambition the world seemed too narrow, should voluntarily submit to be cooped up in a rock; inverting the remark of the sati rist on his great predecessor in conquest,

Estuat infelix angusto limite mundi Ut Gyare clausus scopulis, parvâque Seripho.

Did the state of France render precaution needless? Was the army so detached from Napoleon as to leave no fear of his throwing himself once more at the head of those whom he had so long led to victory? This apology no minister was at liberty to make who had made the convention of Fontainbleau, or who had assented to it, or who had acquiesced in it. That convention was evidently either a measure of magnanimous madness, or of necessary policy.

The noble lord had employed the utmost labour to defend himself and his illustrious co-plenipotentiaries from the charge of magnanimity. The noble lord might have trusted to character against such a charge, and his defence on that head was perfectly unan

swerable. But why? Because he considered the convention of Fontainbleau to have been produced by political necessity-by the the temper of the French nation-and, above all, by the formidable army still devoted to their renowned commander. The gentlemen on the other side had mistaken the point of view in which his hon. and learned friend (Mr. Abercrombie) had considered the convention of Fontainbleau. It was not for the direct discussion of its merits that he had introduced it; it was for the inference which it afforded affect ing this question. This inference was inevitable. If that cogent expediency, commonly called necessity, justified such a convention, it must follow that the state of France was in the highest degree dangerous, and was known to be so by those who assented to the convention. In that case the utmost vigilance was obviously necessary to prevent the return of Napoleon to a country full of such inflammable materials. His hon. friend had reduced ministers to a dilemma from which they could not escape. Either the treaty was voluntary, or it was necessary. If it was voluntary, the allies had created the danger. If it was necessary, they had neglected the greatest of all duties in not providing against so great a danger. They had vindicated themselves from voluntarily consenting to conditions pregnant with peril. But by that vindication they had still more imposed upon themselves the duty of vigilance, and established, beyond the possibility of contradiction, their guilt on this charge.

It was said indeed, incidentally, that we were no parties to the original conditions granted to Napoleon, that the noble lord found them in substance concluded be

fore his arrival at Paris. Of this defence the noble lord could not avail himself; not only because he then acceded to the convention, but because he now defended it. And if he had, what sort of defence was it? It was an attempt to escape participation in guilt, by a confession of insignificance.Though the noble lord was not at Paris, yet there were two or three British ministers in that city of the highest rank. One of them was ambassador to the emperor of Russia, the supposed author of the convention. What are we to believe? That the sovereigns determined on such a measure without communicating their decision to these British ministers? What a national degradation! Was it thus that the policy of ministers had thrown away the renown earned by the army? At the moment that the British army, under their immortal leader, had traced their long line of glory from Torres Vedras, was it possible that the sovereigns of Europe had determined on the only important condition of the treaty without even the formality of communication to the English minister? If this would not be admitted, what was the other branch of the alternative? Were the two noble lords (Aberdeen and Cathcart) left unprovided with instructions respecting the disposal of Napoleon? Had they no discretionary power of expostulating, of remonstrating, of intreating time till they should consult the noble secretary? If they were thus destitute of powers and of instructions, did this arise from the incapacity of ministers to foresee the possibility of a case where such powers and instructions might be rendered most necessary, from the sudden occurrence of events which required immediate deci