Chapter VI: Letter III: gives utterance to a genuine alarm inspired by Bonaparte's

uninterrupted progress. England is confronted by the most formidable adversary whom she has ever known, and her defence is entrusted to Canning and Perceval. Canning's armoury contains nothing more serviceable than "schoolboy jokes and doggerel rhymes, an affronting petulance, and the tones and gesticulations of Mr. Pitt." Perceval, instead of looking after the national defences,

"will bestow the strictest attention on the smaller parts of
ecclesiastical government. In the last agonies of England he will
bring in a bill to regulate Easter offerings; and he will adjust the
stipends of curates, when the flag of France is unfurled on the hills
of Kent.[46]... Whatever can be done by very mistaken notions of the
piety of a Christian, and by very wretched imitations of the eloquence
of Mr. Pitt, will be done by these two gentlemen";

but these are no adequate defences against the genius and ambition of Bonaparte. "There is nothing to oppose to the conqueror of the world but a small table-wit, and the sallow Surveyor of the Meltings."[47]

Abraham, terrified by those prognostics, asks Peter if he thinks it possible for England to survive the recent misfortunes of Europe. Peter replies that if Bonaparte lives, and a great deal is not immediately conceded to the Roman Catholics, England must perish, and perish in disgrace.--

"It is doubly miserable to become slaves abroad, because we would be
tyrants at home; and to perish because we have raised up worse enemies
within, from our own bigotry, than we are exposed to without from the
unprincipled ambition of France."

Then he goes on to a famous apologue. England is a frigate, attacked by a corsair of immense strength and size. The rigging is cut, there is water in the hold, men are dropping off very fast, the peril is extreme. How do you think the captain (whom we will call Perceval) acts? Does he call all hands on deck and talk to them of king, country, glory, sweethearts, gin, French prisons, wooden shoes, old England, and hearts of oak--till they give three cheers, rush to their guns, and, after a tremendous conflict, succeed in beating off the enemy?--

"Not a syllable of all this: this is not the manner in which the
honourable commander goes to work. The first thing he does is to
secure twenty or thirty of his prime sailors who happen to be
Catholics, to clap them in irons, and set over them a guard of as many
Protestants. Having taken this admirable method of defending himself
against his infidel opponents, he goes upon deck, reminds the sailors,
in a very bitter harangue, that they are of different religions;
exhorts the Episcopal gunner not to trust to the Presbyterian
quartermaster, issues positive orders that the Catholics should be
fired at upon the first appearance of discontent; rushes through blood
and brains, examining his men in the Catechism and xxxix. articles,
and positively forbids every one to sponge or ram who has not taken
the Sacrament according to the Church of England.... Built as she is
of heart of oak, and admirably manned, is it possible with such a
captain to save this ship from going to the bottom?"

Abraham's next argument against a policy of concession is that it would only lead to further demands in the future. In reply to this Peter makes vigorous use of Spencer Perceval's official career. Perceval had held a sinecure for several years; at the time of writing he was Chancellor of the Exchequer; and he had just attempted, and been defeated in attempting, a most nefarious job, by which the revenues of the Duchy of Lancaster were to have been secured to him for life.

"Suppose the person to whom he applied for the Meltings had withstood
every plea of wife and fourteen children, no business, and good
character, and had refused him this paltry little office, because he
might hereafter attempt to get hold of the revenues of the Duchy of
Lancaster for life; would not Mr. Perceval have contended eagerly
against the injustice of refusing moderate requests, because
immoderate ones may hereafter be made? Would he not have said (and
said truly), 'Leave such exorbitant attempts as these to the general
indignation of the Commons, who will take care to defeat them when
they do occur; but do not refuse me the Irons and the Meltings now,
because I may totally lose sight of all moderation hereafter'?"