Chapter XXXI: Appendix: A

LETTER ON THE DEFENCES OF THE COUNTRY.

Early in the year 1848, on the eve of the great convulsion caused by the French Revolution of February, Mr. Cobden delivered a speech in Manchester in which he ridiculed armaments and attacked the Duke of Wellington for his recent attempt to call public attention to the defences of the country. This led Mr. Greville to address the following letter to Mr. Cobden, in the 'Times' of February 2, 1848:--

Sir,--I have read with regret your recent speech at Manchester,
more especially your comments on the Duke of Wellington's letter
to Sir John Burgoyne, which are as unworthy of yourself as they
are unjust and disrespectful to that illustrious person. It is fit
that the real facts concerning that letter and its publication
should be made known to the world, for the exaggerations and
misrepresentations which have grown out of it are both injurious
to the Duke of Wellington, and the source of much mischief and
error in respect to the vexed question of national defence.

The letter (which is now above a year old) was a reply to one
addressed by Sir John Burgoyne to his Grace upon the defence
of the country. It was an exposition of the Duke's views and
opinions, written, not merely without the least notion of its
ever being published, but imparted confidentially, and (as I
believe) without any idea that the contents of it would ever be
divulged; but, by a most extraordinary and reprehensible breach
of propriety and prudence, copies were taken of this letter,
which were carelessly distributed, and almost hawked about the
world. Curiosity and interest soon became excited. These copies
were greedily sought, and particularly by those who subscribe to
the Duke's opinions on the subject. Allusions and extracts first
made their appearance in a newspaper, and at length the letter
was published _in extenso_, without the consent or knowledge, and
(as those who best know his sentiments affirm) very much to the
annoyance and displeasure of the Duke. It is a great mistake to
deal with this letter as if it were a formal official document,
taken out of a Blue Book. No man knows better than the Duke of
Wellington the difference between what is desirable and what is
practicable. In writing confidentially to his military colleague,
he naturally imparted to him what he thought it would be
expedient to do; but, in dealing practically with such a subject,
we may be sure that he never loses sight of the various complex
considerations which the Government must look to, and of the
necessity of combining the military exigencies with the political
and financial circumstances of the country.

In explaining that the Duke's letter was not intended for
publication, I am far from meaning to admit that the letter itself
requires any apology, though the same cannot be said of the
comments you have thought fit to make upon it; you misrepresented
both its matter and its spirit, and all who respect your character
and admire your abilities must have lamented to hear you treat the
Duke himself with a contumely unbecoming in the mouth of any one,
but especially so in that of a man with the high reputation which
you deservedly enjoy. In vain, too, do we look in your speech for
any of that vigorous reasoning with which you fought the great
battle of Free Trade. Had you not sustained that cause with more
forcible arguments than you have produced on the present occasion,
you would never have obtained a European celebrity, and the flag
might still be flying on the citadel of Protection.

You, and those who think with you, appear to rely mainly on two
propositions:--

1. That a war with France is next to impossible; so improbable as
to be not worth providing against.

2. That, in case of war, our naval superiority will always protect
us from invasion or insult.

So far as I can find out, the only reasons and arguments by
which you maintain the former of these propositions are your own
demonstration that all nations would do well and wisely to turn
their swords into ploughshares, and for the future to interchange
merchandise instead of blows, and the fact that some French
Free Traders have been making speeches marvellously resembling
your own, and abounding with the same wholesome truths. The
recommendations of Messrs. Visinet and CrÈmieux, as well as your
own, are unquestionably replete with wisdom, and happy would
it be if all the world would embrace them; if, besides such
admirable speeches, we could see any essential reduction in the
French tariff, or if the efforts of the French Opposition were
seriously directed to promote the cause of commercial reform; but
although you, Sir, in your recent tour throughout Europe, have
been everywhere received with all the honour which is justly due
to you, and though you have abundantly scattered the seeds of
sound information and advice, we have yet to learn that any one
country that you have visited, or any one Government with which
you communicated, has put your lessons in practice.

[Sidenote: DEFENCES OF THE COUNTRY.]

But while we are invited to accept such speculative reasoning as
conclusive proof of the inviolability of peace, unfortunately one
page of very recent history sweeps away the whole concatenation of
your logic, the narration of which may produce something both of
reflexion and anticipation. I admit that a war with France is not
a probable event, but the same thing might have been said (perhaps
with more truth) in 1844. The present Government, indeed, is no
less pacifically inclined than the last, but it is well known that
the relations of the two countries are by no means so intimate
now as they were at the former period; and if, by any unhappy
accident, differences should now occur, the same facilities
for reconciliation and adjustment might not be forthcoming. And
yet, in 1844, with the _entente cordiale_ in full force, when
M. Guizot and Lord Aberdeen were knit together by the closest
ties of personal as well as diplomatic friendship, we suddenly
found ourselves on the very brink of war. Everybody must remember
the Tahiti affair, but many may have forgotten or never known
its momentous details. The English Government considered itself
aggrieved by France, and demanded reparation for the alleged
wrong. The French Minister refused to give us the full measure of
satisfaction that our honour required. A serious, and for a long
time a fruitless discussion ensued between the two Governments,
pending which an adjournment of the two Houses of Parliament took
place. About a month afterwards (in the beginning of September)
they met again. The day was fixed for the prorogation, and still
the dispute with France was unsettled. At this crisis, and at the
eleventh hour, a last offer was made by the French Government.
There was barely time to consider it. The Cabinet was assembled
for that purpose on the afternoon of the 4th. On the result of
its deliberations the question of peace or war depended. There
was very little to spare, for the maximum which M. Guizot could
bring himself to offer was the minimum that we could with honour
accept. However, the proposal was accepted, and on the following
day the speech from the Throne announced that the reconciliation
was effected, but in terms which showed the magnitude of the
danger from which the world had escaped. 'Her Majesty,' it ran,
'has recently been engaged in discussions with the Government of
the King of the French on events _calculated to interrupt the
good understanding and friendly relations between this country
and France_; you will rejoice to learn that, by the spirit of
justice and moderation which has animated the two Governments,
_this danger is now happily averted_.' The storm blew over,
the Funds rose, and the country (slightly ruffled) relapsed
into its ordinary state of security and repose. For some time
before this incident, the Duke of Wellington had been urging the
Government to make themselves stronger, and our naval force had
been considerably increased. But it is not surprising that what
had recently occurred, and the narrow escape we had had of being
actually at war, should have made the Duke still more anxiously
alive to the situation in which the country would have been placed
if a rupture had unhappily taken place. He knew that the risks
to which it was exposed were incalculably great. He knew that,
in spite of all the difficulties we could interpose, it was far
from _impossible_ for an able and active enemy to inflict upon us,
unprepared as we were, a disastrous, and a dishonourable blow.
The spirit and patriotism of the warrior and the statesman rose
up within him at the degrading thought, and from that moment he
has never ceased to urge the Government of the day to place the
country as soon as possible in a proper posture of defence; not,
as it has been falsely and foolishly asserted, to prepare in peace
for the last extremity, and incur the full cost of war, but, by
making our moderate establishments really efficient, and adopting
those defensive precautions which his great sagacity and profound
knowledge of the art of war enabled him to suggest, to place the
British Islands in a state of security against any sudden attack.
And for thus contemplating the possibility of a catastrophe,
which all but happened not four years ago, and for warning his
countrymen against the danger, and showing them how to avert it,
he is held up to the derision of a great assembly as a mischievous
dotard, whose age is his only excuse. Having thrust aside the
Duke of Wellington, you consistently proceeded in your speech to
inform your audience that of such questions as the probability of
peace or war, questions depending on various complex and secret
operations of international policy, 'merchants and manufacturers,
shopkeepers, operatives--ay, and calico printers,' are the most
competent judges. Far be it from me to speak of these classes
with the contempt with which you have treated the Duke and all
others who defer to his opinions. They are entitled to respect,
for they constitute a large part of the intelligence of the
nation. Amongst them may be found silly and conceited persons,
ready to swallow such flattery as you have condescended to tickle
them with, but I believe they are, for the most part, men of
sober and robust minds, who will not be misled by such fallacious
compliments, and form a juster estimate of their own capacities,
and the matters on which their habits, pursuits, and education
render them really competent to decide. I think I have shown that
war is not a contingency so utterly improbable as you would have
the English public believe, and that those who contemplate the
possibility of such a calamity are not necessarily the dotards,
cowards, and fools, that you represent them. I am satisfied that
the Sovereigns, the Ministers, the Parliaments, and the people
of both countries desire the maintenance of peace. But what can
insure us against future Pritchards, and D'AubignÈs, and Bruats?
Unforeseen accidents may beget untoward events, and the sparks
of a fortuitous collision falling on some combustible matter
may produce an explosion of national resentment or pride which
no moderation and wisdom may be sufficient to extinguish. We
have been taught to believe that the life of the French King is
Europe's best security for the continuation of peace. Time is
rapidly stealing away that security from us; and who can say when
that wise head and steady hand shall be withdrawn, how long the
elements of discord and confusion will be prevented from breaking
loose? Nothing is more remarkable than the exaggeration which has
marked the whole course of opposition to the plans of national
defence. Their advocates, the Duke of Wellington at the head of
them, are taunted with the folly of proposing a war establishment
in a time of profound peace. Do those critics know what it is in
contemplation to propose now, and what preparations were made
when an invasion was really apprehended? The present purpose
is to replenish our empty arsenals, add about 2,000 men to the
artillery, and gradually (by 10,000 men at a time) to call out
and discipline the Militia; these, together with the completion
of the fortifications already in progress, are understood to
be the defensive and precautionary measures which Parliament
will be invited to sanction, and against which such a clamour
is raised. Look at what was done in 1803 and 1804, when war was
about to break out, and the camp of Boulogne was in process of
formation. To encounter the army of 150,000 men which Napoleon
was marshalling on the opposite coast, we had _in these islands_
650,000 men in arms: there were 130,000 Regulars, 110,000 Militia,
and above 400,000 Volunteers. And three years later, when all
dread of invasion had vanished, when the navies of France had
been utterly destroyed, our forces _in England_ were not less than
200,000 men.

[Sidenote: DEFENCES OF THE COUNTRY.]

That our naval superiority must always be our chief reliance
is undoubtedly true; but here, again, we have history against
speculation, and we may look to the past for instruction as to
the future. In 1796 nothing but storms and tempests prevented
Hoche's expedition from accomplishing the invasion of Ireland
or of England, if the French had preferred such an attempt. The
events of that period have been thus recorded by Mr. Alison and
Mr. James:--'The results of the expedition,' says the former,
'were pregnant with important instruction to both countries: to
the French as demonstrating the extraordinary risks which attend
a maritime expedition, the small number of forces which can be
embarked on board, even of a great fleet, and the unforeseen
disasters which frequently on that element defeat the best
concerted enterprise; to the English, as showing that the empire
of the seas does not always afford security against invasion;
that, in the face of superior maritime forces, her possessions
had been for sixteen days at the mercy of the enemy, and that
neither the skill of her sailors nor the valour of her armies, but
the fury of the elements, had saved them from danger in the most
vulnerable point of her dominions. While these considerations are
fitted to abate the confidence of invasion, they are calculated to
weaken our own confidence in naval superiority, and to demonstrate
that the only basis on which certain reliance can be placed, even
in an insular Power, is a well-disciplined army and the patriotism
of its own subjects.' Mr. James says:--'That a succession of
storms, such as those with which the British Channel was visited,
should disperse an encumbered and ill-manned French fleet ought
not to excite surprise, but that during the three or four weeks
that the ships of this fleet were traversing the English and Irish
Channels in every direction, neither of the two British fleets
appointed to look after them should have succeeded in capturing
a single ship, may certainly be noted down as an extraordinary
circumstance.' Steam has now made a great revolution in naval as
well as social affairs; but though, in the long run, this country
is more likely to profit by it than France, it is incontestable
that the accidents and unforeseen circumstances of modern warfare
render this country more vulnerable than it was under the old
system. The general arguments have, however, been so amply and
so ably stated in publications without end, that it would be
superfluous to say more on the reality of the danger, and the
wisdom of making adequate provision to meet it. But it is hard for
any man who cares for the dignity or safety of his country, and
who honours its greatest citizen and patriot, to endure in silence
such a speech as you have lately delivered. You have acquired
great influence over vast multitudes of men; you may safely guide
or mischievously mislead a large amount of public opinion, and
those who, from the vigour and intelligence of your past career,
entertained sanguine expectations of your future usefulness as a
public man, must feel deep disappointment and sorrow at the very
different prospect held out by your recent display.

I am, Sir, &c., C. C. G.

(The 'Times,' February 2, 1848.)