We are the only people in the civilized world who, though intent on the accumulation of wealth, neglect all precautions for its defence. We have an army no way proportioned to our political power, or the extent of our dominions; and, if in itself our navy be large, it is so widely scattered over the surface of the globe, that the force we can at a short notice bring to bear on any particular point is much less considerable than might be at first expected. This state of things is traceable to many causes, of which the principal are, our jealous attachment to freedom, and unwillingness to be taxed for the support of great military establishments. But, like all other nations, we must accommodate our practice to the necessities of the times in which we live. There is no political community aiming at greatness, or ambitious of taking a lead in the affairs of the world, which does not train a larger number of its citizens to the use of arms than we have ever done. The United States, though much given, like ourselves, to commerce and industry, have an organized and disciplined militia of nearly one million of men; France has eight hundred thousand of national guards ; Austria has likewise her militia; Prussia her land-wehr; and Russia maintains a far more numerous, though less completely disciplined domestic force. Great Britain alone, though standing foremost in the career of civilization, though by far the most powerful, from the energy of her population, the amount of her wealth, the magnitude and number of her colonies and dependencies, is content to rely on the undisciplined valour of her people for protection and security at home. Our army, including the troops of the East India Company, does not exceed four hundred and fifty thousand men, though our empire is now the most widely spread which the world has ever seen; though we have belted round the globe with settlements, and are still actively engaged in founding new colonies, and reducing fresh millions to obedience.

In reviewing the events of these times, history will regard with extreme surprise the extent of our self-reliance, inspired though it be by the traditions of victory and the sentiment of indomitable courage. We persuade ourselves that no enemy will he hardy enough to make a descent on these islands, and attack us in our homes, because the thing has never happened since the conquest. London, indeed, can make a prouder boast than Sparta, and say, that for eight hundred years her women have never beheld the smoke of an enemy's camp. To preserve this traditional glory untarnished is obviously, therefore, one of our chief duties as Englishmen. To say that we have for so many centuries been placed by our virtues beyond the reach of an insult so galling, and a calamity so terrible as invasion, is to put forward the strongest of all arguments for using our utmost exertion to transmit this legacy of glory untarnished to our children.

For some time past the journals of this country, as well as those of France, and, indeed, of most other states in Europe, have been filled with disquisitions on the practicability of disembarking a hostile army on the coasts of Kent or Sussex, and marching upon and sacking London. The French press, conducted for the most part by young writers of more ardour than knowledge, labours to give currency to the idea that there would be no difficulty whatever in the enterprise. It confidently anticipates the defeat of our fleets at sea, almost unopposed debarkation of the French army, the utter rout or destruction of the few troops we could oppose to the invaders, the capture and plunder of London, and the commission of all those crimes and excesses, which among our neighbours have always been regarded as the best fruits of victory. Even in our own country several journalists have written in the same spirit, actuated, no doubt, by the patriotic desire to rouse the nation from its lethargy by showing it the danger in its worst shape. If there has been some exaggeration, the error is less mischievous than un- founded confidence. The best thing, however, is to state, as far as possible, the exact truth, and neither to overrate the power of France, nor to underrate our own. Supposing our military strength to be equal to our population, and the extent of our territories, France would be a mere pigmy in comparison with us. Her population does not exceed thirty five millions, while our's falls little short of two hundred millions, that is to say, comprises one-fifth of the population of the globe. But no idea of our military strength can be gathered from this view of the matter. Our empire is scattered in patches over both hemispheres, divided by oceans, and impressed in different places with a different character by the combined influences of climate, race, language, and religion. France is one compact unity, or nearly so, for all she possesses external to her own shores is of comparatively little value, and would inevitably be shorn away by the first stroke of the sword of war. Her military establishments, therefore, lie nearly all within a moderate distance of the capital, and may easily be wielded by the central government, whether for offensive or defensive purposes. And what, then, is the real force of France ? It has confidently been stated in the newspapers that it amounts to three hundred and fifty thousand men, in the highest state of discipline, animated by the worst feelings of rancour and hatred against this country, and inured to the most merciless cruelty in the wars of Africa. This view of the matter may suggest erroneous conclusions. The French army actually consists of about three hundred and twenty-five thousand men, of which from 1 1 0 to 1 20,000 are required for the pacification and defence of Algeria. Twenty or twenty-five thousand men are distributed through the other French colonies in Western Africa, the Antilles, and the Pacific, so that a large reduction must be made from the formidable round numbers with which our popular speculators have hitherto dealt. Still the force of France is very great, and, in the estimation of military men, more than sufficient to invade England in her present state of comparative defenselessness.

Much stress has, moreover, been very properly laid on the character of the French soldiers. They are not what they were in former days, the representatives of the civilization of the kingdom, but a fierce, immoral, reckless horde, approximating more nearly to savages than any other troops in the world. This has been rendered indubitable by the history of their campaigns in Algeria, where they have been guilty of more and worse crimes against humanity than any other army whose exploits are on record. Burning villages, massacring the inhabitants, shutting men up in caves, and roasting them there alive, with every other excess which villany can conceive and brutality can execute, have been their habitual achievements. And yet they had nothing to retaliate on the Africans. Neither the Kabyles, nor the Arabs, nor the Moors had humiliated them at Waterloo. Abd-el-Kader had not marched to Paris, or transported Napoleon to St. Helena, and kept him there in imprisonment till his death. Consequently, what they have done in Africa must have proceeded from the natural promptings of their character. It would be altogether different in England. They would here have much to revenge, since they could not fail to discover at every step trophies snatched from them on the field of battle, bitter mementos of defeat, the flags of their ships of war, magnificent pieces of artillery, and statues and monuments erected to celebrate victories over them. In our public records they would find the proofs of a thousand other facts and circumstances calculated to excite their fury. What, therefore, the weak and defenceless portion of the population of this empire might expect to meet with at their hands, can scarcely be imagined even from reflecting on the mysteries of the caves of Dara, or the infamies of Tahiti. Whatever the most degraded passions, lust, cupidity, or revenge, could conceive or perpetrate, would unquestionably be accomplished. On this point there can be no mistake.

The Duke of Wellington is said, in his letter to Sir John Burgoyne, to have demonstrated the practicability of France's landing fifty thousand men on the coast of England in less than a week after the departure of our ambassador from Paris. On such points, his Grace's authority is the greatest that could be adduced. But his letter is not before the public, and the extracts which have found their way to the press, should probably be regarded rather as a weak version of the Duke's language than as the clear and powerful words he has actually employed. At least, there seems good reason to believe that the full force of his expressions is not to be gathered from anything with which the public have yet been made acquainted. Not, however, to insist on this, it appears to be generally admitted that France has now at her disposal an army of one hundred thousand men for offensive purposes, and that she possesses the means of transporting nearly half that force by steam from her own shores to ours in the course of a single night, An officer of the highest rank, who visited the camp at Compiegne. and carefully examined the conditions of the French army, confirms the popular report that it is in the completes! possible state of efficiency; that its artillery practice is most exact and admirable, that it is familiar with all our most recent improvements in gunnery, and that, in spite of an external varnish of politeness, the spirit by which it is universally pervaded is that of the most deadly hatred towards this country. For a long time, the French Government has been moving up its forces towards the north, where they are kept in formidable masses, almost within sight as it were of the shores of England, at Cherbourg, St. Malo, Brest, and other ports, where an ample supply of war steamers is in constant readiness to transport them wherever their services may be required.

On the subject of the steam navies of France and England, much too little information is popularly possessed. If collected together, our steamers would no doubt suffice to defend our shores from the attacks of the whole world. But in point of fact, where are they ? Scattered over every ocean and every sea, protecting the tracks of commerce, or overawing the pirate and the slaver. Comparatively few are retained at home, while those of France constructed and maintained purely for purposes of aggression, are kept perpetually within call. Among these, there are sixteen immense steamers, each capable of serving as transport to fifteen hundred soldiers during a short voyage. Other and smaller war steamers, acting as the satellites of these, would divide the remainder of the invading army between them, so that a vast flotilla, with artillery, horses, and men on board, might be pushed over in twelve hours from the coast of France to our own. When Napoleon, in 1803, meditated the invasion of Great Britain, he accustomed his cavalry horses to exercises which would enable them to dispense, when necessary, with flat-bottomed boats. They were thrown into the sea and taught to swim to the beach. Heavy guns were likewise cast overboard with ropes attached, and afterwards drawn ashore by men. To lure away our fleet, that of France was to have been dispatched ostensibly for the West Indies, with orders to take all our colonies, burn the towns, and commit all practicable ravages in the interior of the islands; but in reality, its orders were to double about in the Atlantic, and return to the channel, in order to facilitate and protect the passage of the army. Similar manoeuvres are probably now in contemplation, and will be put in practice should our negligence or avarice ever enable our vindictive neighbours to realise their dreams. Let the country reflect on the dilemma in which we should be placed, were the French, immediately on the breaking out of a war, to imitate the policy of Napoleon. Unable to reconcile ourselves to the capture or destitution of the British West Indies, and not being certain of the destruction of the enemy, we should be compelled to follow it with our own fleet. If it pursued its course towards the Gulph of Mexico, we might possibly come up with, and destroy it there; but, on the other hand, if it should escape our observation at sea, and make its appearance off our coast at the same time with the steamers; what would be the situation of this country? To abandon our colonies, would be dishonourable enough, but in the endeavour to protect them, to expose our own country to the horrors of invasion, would be some- thing infinitely worse.

At the period to which I have referred above, England, though infinitely less powerful and wealthy than it is now, was animated by an ardour and enthusiasm which we might possibly, under similar circumstances, display again, but like which, there is nothing existing among us at present. The youth of the kingdom might literally be said to rush to arms. At the beginning of the year, we had a hundred and fifty thousand men, before the end of it, six hundred and thirteen thousand, of whom four hundred and thirty thousand were volunteers. Against such a population, Napoleon clearly perceived that nothing was to be effected, and the breaking out of the Austrian war opportunely relieved him from the necessity he would soon have been under, of relinquishing his design of invasion, obviously from the conviction that it was absurd and impossible. As it was events covered his retreat, and he enjoyed the honour of having projected the conquest of England, as we project the reduction of an empire in a dream.

At present this country is pervaded by a very different spirit. Ever since the peace we have sedulously applied ourselves to the arts of commerce and industry, to the improvement of manufactures, to the founding of colonies, to the emancipation of trade, and to the amelioration generally of our civil and political institutions. And these things we, doubtless, should have done ; but there are other things which we should not have left undone, and among these must be reckoned a continuous application and study of the arts and processes of war. After the hard lessons we had received from experience, we ought not to have required to be taught that in this world there is no tranquility or peace for man unless under the shadow of the sword, and that there is and should be no music so grateful to the ear of a civilized man as the roar of artillery proclaiming to all whom it may concern that he is prepared to defend his freedom and independence at the hazard, and, if need be, at the sacrifice of his life.

But war having been the cause to us of much calamity, of an immense national debt, and of great private sorrow and suffering, we hastily and credulously adopted the belief that it was the last of our great trials as a nation, and that we should thenceforward be able to play the epicureans, and indulge in all the fantastic tricks of luxury and effeminacy. Were sailors to reason thus during a calm, they would most assuredly never be prepared to meet the hurricane. The wise course is to enjoy peace and fine weather while they last, but never to be lulled into forget- fulness of the truth, that vicissitude is the great fundamental law of nature, and that tempests are begotten in the bosom of calm and peace, as well in the moral as in the physical world. For want of reflecting on this, we are now taken by surprise at the first mutterings of the storm in the distance. Happily, however, there is still leisure for preparation; and happily, too, we now possess ministers who are fully alive to the danger, and resolved to take every necessary step towards meeting it in a man- ner becoming the character of this great people, whose honour for the time is committed to their keeping.

I desire it to be distinctly understood, that in what I am about to say I am only offering my own opinion respecting the plan formed by ministers for the defence of the country. That it will be found substantially correct, however, I make no doubt ; nor can it prove in any way injurious that the press should anticipate the designs of government, because by developing a wise and moderate scheme of policy, it must inevitably, to a certain extent, predispose the country to receive it favourably when it shall be hereafter announced in parliament. Meanwhile, it is satisfactory to believe, what is unquestionably true, that our rulers interpret accurately the signs of the times, and comprehend the whole extent of their duties as ministers of this great empire. From a detached passage of the Duke of Wellington's letter, it might be inferred that Lord John Russel was one of three ministers to whom His Grace had made his prudent representations in vain. But this is not the case. The present cabinet is obviously as fully alive to the necessity of making preparations to meet any assault from without as His Grace himself can be, as the public will be thoroughly convinced, when, after the holidays, the government plan comes to be explained in the House of Commons.

It is reasonable to suppose, that when ministers took this important subject into consideration, they hesitated long before they could determine whether it would be most desirable to make a large addition to the regular army, or to organise an immense militia, or to adopt the middle course of relying partly on the soldiers of the line and partly on what may be strictly denominated a domestic force. After mature deliberation, they would seem to have given the preference to the course last mentioned. For this many cogent reasons might be assigned. The militia is a constitutional force, the very nature of which tends to strengthen our attachment to the institutions of the country, while it gives us confidence in our ability to defend them. According to the fundamental laws of this realm, every Englishman should not only be permitted the use of arms, but expected to understand it; that, in cases of emergency, he may be able to enroll himself in the list of our national defenders. The mere soldier too frequently learns to look with indifference on the land of his birth, from which, by the vicissitudes of war, he is often kept in almost perpetual estrangement. By passing constantly from place to place, he contracts a contempt for local associations; and by leading the better part of his life abroad, ceases to be actuated by the sympathies and feelings of home. The camp in the long run comes, therefore, to be regarded as his country, and his fellow- soldiers as his only fellow-citizens.

The militia-man lives under totally different influences. He is only a soldier so far as discipline and the defence of the hearth and the altar are concerned. He enlarges his conception of home, without weakening the love of it. His patriotism is not confined to Lancashire, or Cumberland, or Kent, but expanding with his experience, includes in its embrace our whole group of islands. He ceases to be the citizen of one town or county, but becomes a citizen of Great Britain, equally devoted to the whole, having, perhaps, formed for himself personal friends in almost every part of it. This, of course, can be the case only when the militia is so far organised and maintained on the footing of a regular army, that it merely differs from it in never being called upon to serve abroad. In ordinary circumstances the militia is strictly a local force, raised in a distant neighbourhood, constituted chiefly of persons who know each other, and are often knit closely together by the ties of blood and friendship. Such men in the day of difficulty would fight gallantly side by side, knowing, as they must, that defeat would be fatal, not merely to that abstract existence called the state, but also to themselves, their wives and families, and all their hopes and prospects in this world.

Consequently no service could possibly be more popular than that of the militia, when rendered necessary by the exigencies of the times ; and these considerations, there is every reason to believe, will induce ministers immediately to organise a force of one hundred and forty thousand men, of whom one hundred thousand will be raised in Great Britain and forty thousand in Ireland. This may jar upon the ears of many as the first note of approaching war ; but we have deceived ourselves egregiously if we have been led to imagine, that because there has been a protracted cessation of hostilities, therefore we may be said to have entered on the period in which the swords of mankind are to be converted into plougshares and their spears into pruning- hooks. No such period of halycon calm is to be expected in our days. Our lot has been cast in the iron age of the world, and it is with iron that we must defend ourselves from the mischiefs with which we are menaced by the unbridled passions and profligate principles of our neighbours.

One of the greatest recommendations of a militia force is the comparatively small cost at which it may be kept up. Experience, I believe, has shown that with the strictest regard to economy a soldier cannot be maintained in this country at a smaller cost than forty pounds sterling per annum, whereas a militia-man may be supported for one-tenth of that sum, or four pounds sterling per annum, I mean when he is required to do duty only during one month of the year. At the first blush it might seem that the expense should only be one-twelfth, but when we consider that a machine once put in motion is much more easily and cheaply kept going perpetually, than it can with irregular breaks and interruptions be put in action occasionally, we shall be able to account to ourselves for the facts of a calculation which, at first, appears unsatisfactory. Thus, however, it is evident that a hundred thousand militia-men would cost the country no more than ten thousand troops of the line, while in case of invasion we might reckon on them with infinitely greater confidence, the discipline of a militia being quite sufficient to teach them to fall into their places on the field of battle, trusting to their inherent courage to enable them to stand their ground.

Such a force could, moreover, be encamped as it were both in the interior and along the coast in every county in the kingdom. There could be no touching on the shore anywhere without meeting with a military population; and if to the usual regiments of infantry were added a corresponding strength of cavalry and artillery, every mile of our sea-front might be regarded as impregnable. The effect, moreover, of these exercises on the humbler classes would be in all respects beneficial. They would bring them together, teach them to act in concert, lead to the cultivation of friendly feelings among neighbours, excite their appetite for knowledge, and give rise among them to a proper appreciation of foreigners which would lead generally to a rooted repugnance for their character and manners. It may be all very well in a few vagabond philosophers to cultivate cosmopolitan tendencies, and endeavour to break down the limits which separate the several communities of the earth; but it would be absurd to cultivate the same philosophy of indifference among the  

great masses of the population. Universal empire is an impracticable chimera. It is evidently the destiny of the human race, and very fortunately, as their happiness depends on it, to live in distinct political communities as long as the world endures. This, properly understood, signifies that from time to time there must inevitably be wars, because it is altogether impossible that the interests of different states should not sometimes clash; and if this be the case, it follows that, according to the irresistible laws of nature, the subjects of one state will always entertain certain prejudices against the subjects of every other, and, in reality, should do so to enable them to contend manfully when the hour of strife arrives.

Whoever has lived among the French peasantry must be thoroughly convinced that nothing is less cosmopolitan than their sentiments. They regard with unbounded prejudice, amounting in most cases to a rooted dislike, the inhabitants of all the surrounding countries, while, with respect to the English, this dislike degenerates into a rancorous and unappeasable hatred. If we were constructing an universal Utopia we might stipulate for the eradication of these feelings. But as, after all our speculations, we are compelled to take the world as it stands, our wisest course, apparently, is to make the best of our actual situation and work with the materials we possess till it shall please Providence to supply us with better. Now, by the organization of a militia we should draw forth and give a proper shape and tendency to the hostile feelings of the British population against France. Knowing the cause which forced them from their homes and interfered more or less with the processes of industry in which they are habitually engaged, they would learn to regard that cause with a proper degree of aversion, and, in case of any attempt at invasion, would be animated by the disposition to receive the enemy as he deserved. Popular songs, originating in the circumstances of the hour, would spring into existence and make the circuit of the militia-barracks, rousing the warlike propensity and strengthening the inherent passion of human nature for steel. This, I know, is a doctrine which will be deprecated by many. But it is the doctrine of all patriotic nations, it is the doctrine which has placed us foremost in the rank of civilised communities; which has given us a prodigious empire in Asia, which has rendered us masters of a hundred colonies, and bestowed on us the power, if we knew how to exert it wisely, to regulate the destinies of the world. When we reject it, therefore, and adopt its opposite, farewell to our greatness ! We may be very benevolent, very philanthropic, very cosmopolitan, but we shall be subdued and enslaved by the first barbarian who has the courage to land a well-organized and powerful army on our shores, and, with his foot on our necks, shall enjoy ample leisure to regret that we ever suffered ourselves to be turned aside from the path of duty by a frivolous, vain, and maudlin philosophy, engendered by the firesides of dreamers, and fit only to obtain circulation among anchorites and old women.

It will be a proud day for England when she beholds one hundred thousand of her sons drawn out in battle array on her beloved soil, with arms in their hands, ready to protect its inviolability. The music of such a host will be sweet to the ear of freedom, sweet to the ear of peace, sweet to the ear of justice, and honour, and patriotism, and whatever else is venerable in this world. It is consequently to be hoped that, instead of throwing impediments in the way of government when it proceeds to develop the plans which it has formed for the protection of our coasts from invasion, the whole country will enter into its designs with enthusiasm and compel parliament at once to make the necessary grants for our national defenses. Taxation, in itself an evil, will, in these circumstances, be the greatest of blessings. To secure us the possession of what we have we must consent to sacrifice some small portion of it in creating the means of security. Whoever has a home or hearth worth defending, whoever has a beloved family or dear friends, whoever cherishes an attachment for our old hereditary institutions, for the familiar associations of town or country, for our literature, for our religion, will, instead of obstructing ministers in the execution of their wise plans, rather urge upon Parliament the necessity of giving them a wider range and loftier scope, and be ready to make all needful sacrifices for the purpose.

In addition to the ordinary objections against organizing a militia in England, a fresh set of arguments may be anticipated against the carrying out of the same plan in Ireland. Persons who know nothing of the Irish character, and are readier to consult their prejudices than their reason, will, probably, contend that it would be highly perilous to entrust forty thousand Irishmen with arms, more especially at a moment like the present, when, as they conceive, disaffection reigns paramount through the island, and the rage for the repeal of the Union is unbounded. It will do honour to the courage and sagacity of ministers if, despising these vulgar apprehensions, they determine, as I trust they will, to confide as frankly m the people of Ireland as in the people of this country. No libel can be more injurious or unjust than that which accuses the Irish generally of disaffection. That they are far from being content with their condition I admit, and they would be deserving of little respect if they were. Ireland is not in a state to nourish contentment ; for to give existence to this feeling, we must greatly ameliorate the condition of the people, or, which will answer the purpose still better, must enable them to perform this great duty themselves. But between the absence of social contentment and political disaffection there is a wide interval.

Besides, considering the materials of the Irish character, it would be perfectly reasonable to contend that, even if disaffection did extensively prevail to raise a large body of militia in Ireland, and to arm, equip, and discipline it, would be one of the readiest means that could be devised of dissipating that feeling. The Irish are a religious people, who sincerely believe in the sanctity of oaths. Having sworn allegiance, therefore, to the crown, they would feel themselves to be removed, by the very act, out of the category of disaffection, and bound rather to assist the law in eradicating it. That in case of invasion they would favour the enemy, is what no man in his senses believes. The threat was a sort of rhetorical clap-trap in the mouth of Mr. O'Connell, and many of his unfortunate imitators occasionally venture to repeat it, but it is obvious that while doing so they are haunted by the consciousness that they are playing with two edged tools, and that they run quite as much risk of wounding themselves, as of inflicting injury on Great Britain; in fact, they know very well that the Irish would do no such thing. Ireland and England are, in this respect, like man and wife; they may quarrel between themselves, and bandy backwards and forwards innumerable menaces and recriminations, but the invader who should step in between them in the very worst paroxysm of their domestic resentments, would be apt to meet with a reception which would scarcely encourage him to repeat the experiment. The Irish are somewhat fond of noise, and take a sort of malicious pleasure in abusing the Saxons, but when circumstances have placed them side by side on the field of battle, they have never been behind the bravest of those Saxons in upholding the honour of old England, and bearing her flag through blood and danger to conquest or victory. I should like to know where the Irish ever turned tail, where or when they deserted their colours, or deserved the name of traitors and cowards. I should be very sorry, in the wildest districts of Tipperary, to make such a charge. The truth is, that the Irish know we are united together by destiny, and, in spite of all the declamations of their mob orators, they love us, because we have fought with them, because they have shared the dangers of our campaigns, because they partake of the glory of our conquests, and of all the prestige which belongs to imperial sway. Give them arms, therefore, and they will not dishonour them. Your musket will be as safe in the Irish hovel as in the Castle of Dublin or in the Tower, when it is guarded by the sanctity of an oath, and by that military enthusiasm with which no men are more deeply imbued than our flourishers of shellalahs over the water.

In addition to the hundred and forty thousand militia which ministers should immediately organise, a small addition to the regular army, say ten thousand men, will be absolutely necessary, partly for the formation of artillery corps, and partly for the strengthening of the cavalry. Experience may now be said to have demonstrated that the possession of a powerful artillery invests even a small state with strength. It was this that gave the Sikhs their renown in Asia, and rendered them formidable antagonists even to us. The same observation may be applied to the petty Mahratta state of Gwalior. Of what enormous advantage, therefore, would not such a force be in the hands of a people like the English? As it is, we are merely weak because we are negligent. We possess more resources, more materials of power, more means of conquest and self-aggrandisement, than any other people in the world. But we make no account of them, and are so obstinate in our remissness, that we may almost be said to invite the French, or any other half-barbarous people, to make a descent upon our coasts for plunder. Ignorant as they are of foreign countries, they know very well they would find a golden harvest here, which would tempt whole swarms of half-naked vagabonds to slip out of their wooden shoes, and skip over to England, in the hope of clothing themselves, and living respectably for the rest of their lives at our expense.

Why, therefore, are we insensible to the danger we incur? The Roman empire was rendered accessible to the barbarians of the north only through the sloth and inactivity of the provinces. People then, as now, would think of nothing but amassing wealth and addicting themselves to luxury and pleasure, and the empire abounded with pigmy sophists who defended their licentiousness in their declamations against war. Confounding debauchery with humanity, they pretended it was better to revel within the walls of towns, than bear arms amid the snows and swamps of the frontier. They, therefore, incessantly laboured to corrupt the youth, by drawing fearful pictures of the horrors of war. Mars and Bellona were thrust from the temples of Rome, and a dastardly spawn of epicurean divinities installed in their places. We have entered upon the same career; have paralysed the energies of government and parliament by an odious outcry about economy and peace, as though there could exist a doubt in the mind of any man that the only way to ward off hostilities is to be always prepared to enter upon them with vigour at the call of our country.

It is not pusillanimity but prudence that counsels attention at the present moment to our national defences. Properly prepared and armed, we could easily defend these islands against the whole world, and, if need were, conduct retaliatory expeditions against every capital of Europe in succession, and more especially storm Paris, and give the French one lesson more in the process of national humiliation. But if we persist in the neglect of the most obvious duties, what can possibly come of it but disaster? The government is manfully doing its part. In addition to the thirty thousand troops we possess scattered over England and Wales, fifteen thousand pensioners have been organised, together with nine or ten thousand dockyard labourers. But this is not enough, Besides these and the militia, we must create a powerful artillery force, and greatly augment the strength of our navy, especially with steamers of large calibre, capable of playing a prominent part in the next struggle that ensues.

Other precautions must likewise be taken, rendered necessary by the peculiar circumstances of the age. In some sense we have ceased to be islanders, the channel having, as it were, been filled up by steam. Our coasts, therefore, are little less accessible than the frontier of a continental country, so that the necessity of throwing up fortifications on certain points has become unquestionable. Much in this way has already been done. Sheerness, Dover, Portsmouth, Plymouth, are defended by formidable batteries, and orders have just been issued for strengthening all those works. But the system must be extended. There are other large towns and cities on the shore which cannot with prudence be left naked, to excite the cupidity of a hungry enemy, proverbially addicted to plunder, as well as to every other excess of vice, cruelty, and brutality. Whatever sums, therefore, ministers may expend in judicious fortifications, — and it is to be hoped they will not in this respect be sparing, — parliament should grant with alacrity, while the public should be ready to applaud the grant. We must be possessed by a feeling of security at home, while we are engaged in developing our design of colonizing and civilizing the world.

One point, however, it seems necessary to insist upon now. If government take the steps which it may at this moment be fairly presumed to meditate, no attempt at invasion will be made; and then certain economists will inquire into the utility of our preparations, ridicule our fears, and triumphantly argue that there was no necessity whatever for apprehension or expenditure. But it is to prevent, not to court invasion that we desire to see a militia organised, our navy augmented, and our coasts fortified. We are not anxious to behold the enemy amongst us, we would much rather he should stay at home, and it is precisely in order to keep him there that we should apply ourselves diligently to the strengthening and multiplying of our national defensaes. The sums of money will not be ill-spent which may preserve us from the calamities of war. Economy is good, but that is the wisest economy which saves us from the waste of millions by the expenditure of a few hundred thousand pounds. Supposing the issue to be ever so fortunate, supposing we utterly annihilated the invading army, supposing we captured the fleets, seized upon the colonies, and destroyed utterly the commerce of France, as in all likelihood we should, let the economists consider at what prodigious cost we should effect all this, and take likewise into the account that, by a moderate expenditure now we may escape that prodigal waste of the national treasures.

It is upon these views and principles that the whole system of Lord Palmerston's foreign policy has been based. Instead of being as superficial persons have supposed, a warlike minister, his lordship is the most pacific of all statesmen; but, thoroughly understanding human nature as he does, he never dreams of preserving the tranquillity of the world by exposing the wealth and possessions of this empire as a bait to excite the ambition and cupidity of our neighbours. He has caused to be felt throughout Christendom the just influence of Great Britain, but, together with his colleagues, has hitherto failed to excite in the people of this country a proper consciousness of their own weak- ness. What views he takes of our present position we shall soon learn, and when he has delivered his opinion in Parliament the country will be in possession of all that human prudence and forethought can suggest. Meanwhile it is infinitely satisfactory to observe that public opinion is gradually adjusting itself to square with Lord Palmerston's policy. Rash and ignorant persons prompted by vanity, or under the influence of still worse motives, laboured incessantly a short time ago to excite an universal prejudice against his views and character. The period of that delusion is past. We have now made the discovery that our interests as a nation could be in no safer hands; and, reasoning from the past to the future, it will, in my opinion, be our wisest course to place the fullest confidence in his wisdom and genius.

It is universally admitted, at least here in Great Britain, that his Grace the Duke of Wellington is, in whatever relates to military affairs, the highest authority to whom we could appeal. The country is already in possession of his opinion. He has stated, in language the most emphatic and solemn that could be employed by man, that our condition at this moment is unsafe, that an invasion would be practicable, and that an enemy's army might even reach and sack the capital. This is the opinion of the greatest military commander now living. Arguing from all the antecedents of Lord Palmerston's life, carefully considering his views and sentiments, and comparing and examining his speeches and his policy, I think I am fully justified in concluding that his judgment entirely coincides with that of his Grace. We have, therefore, the greatest of contemporary statesmen agreeing with the greatest general in recommending us to attend to the defenses of the empire. It cannot surely be, that any weight will, after this, be attached to the advice of those who inconsiderately maintain that great reductions are practicable in the army, navy, and ordnance. Every man must have read with pain the declaration made the other day, at Stockport, by Mr. Cobden, to this effect, He did not, as seems to be generally supposed, go the length of contending, that we may dispense at once with all our forces by sea and land, but suggested, that out of the seventeen millions which we now appropriate to the defenses of the empire, a considerable portion might be saved. As Mr. Cobden's opinion was received with applause by his old constituents, and is far too prevalent among the people generally, it may, perhaps, be worth while to point out the untrustworthy foundation on which it is based. During his tour on the continent, he chiefly associated with commercial men and political economists, persons who, in all countries, are addicted to peace, and inclined to attribute to others their own unwarlike predilections. It may be possible, also, to detect in Mr. Cobden's declarations, the vanity of putting forward bold views, which he may suppose to be in advance of the age. Unfortunately, however, there is no novelty in them. Towards the decline of states they have been invariably advanced by all who set a higher value on the accumulation of wealth to preserving the integrity of the national virtue by the predecessors of our political economists, by sophists and declaimers, by all, in short, who prefer ease and luxury to the painful and laborious exertion of energy.

POSTSCRIPT.

A letter on the subject of this article has just appeared from the pen of Lord Ellesmere, pervaded almost throughout by the true old English spirit. I say almost, because there is one passage in which his lordship advocates a course which, should our country be invaded, I most earnestly trust we shall never pursue. Should the enemy, taking us by surprise, throw a force of fifty thousand men into England, his lordship thinks that, with the few regular troops at our command, we ought not to hazard a battle; and that if the French were entering London at one end, the guards should march out at the other. The advice is probably ironical, and designed to rouse us to a sense of our danger. But if the event to which he thus alludes should ever occur, I trust the enemy will never be allowed to see the back of an English soldier. Few or many, it will be the duty of our troops to present their breasts to the foe, and to perish to a man, rather than suffer the capital to be entered unopposed.

On nearly all other points it affords me great satisfaction to find that the observations I have ventured to make are supported by the opinion of Lord Ellesmere. He may possibly be led by peculiar circumstances to take at times a too sombre view of our condition. But to err on this side is far better than to run into the opposite extreme. We ought to be awakened, however rudely, out of the slumber into which we have fallen, and shall hereafter confess that we owe a deep debt of gratitude to those who now unite together for the purpose of rousing us. His lordship, in his excellent letter, discusses the question whether it be better to augment the regular army, or to organize a militia force. The demands of government will probably be limited by the disposition of parliament, while this again will depend very much on the state of public opinion. If the nation can be made sensible of its danger, if men of station and influence like Lord Ellesmere will come forward in time, and by their judicious warnings give an impetus to the sentiment of apprehension; if the press view the matter in the proper light, and heartily cooperate in accomplishing the good work, whatever is wanting will be done; the navy will be strengthened, the army increased, a new artillery force will be created, and an immense body of militia will be called out. The question of expense may be easily disposed of. War with France, sooner or later, is inevitable, invasion is highly probable; and should it take place, no one can be so stupid as to doubt the enormous expenditure of blood and treasure which it would occasion, not to hint at anything worse. By being armed in time, we may escape this. It is no matter of speculation, but an undoubted fact, that we possess the means of defending ourselves against the whole world, provided we will only make up our minds to use them. No one denies this; our worst enemies are better aware of it than ourselves. They would never dream of assailing us, if they saw us on our guard. They merely hope to be able to take advantage of our sloth or heedlessness, to land on our shores by surprise, while we are thinking of money-making, of railway shares, of bills and discount, of invoices and ledgers. They have felt how heavy our hand is when we think proper to use it. But coming now they would find us asleep, and might easily seize and bind us in fetters which we could not speedily shake off. Lord Ellesmere seems to doubt the prudence of the writer in the "Morning Chronicle" who first drew attention to this subject; but I applaud his frankness, and think the country deeply indebted to him for the startling disclosures he made. We are much too apt to oppose a sort of vis inertias to the exertions of Government in our behalf, and to fancy that all is well, because, immersed in other pursuits, we do not perceive the dangers which are visible to them. Our attention has now been directed to the peril in which we are placed, and if we persist in being indifferent to it, we may fancy ourselves wise and magnanimous if we please, but posterity will pass a very different judgment on our proceedings, and be apt to stigmatize us as a base and slothful race, who would not devote a small portion of our wealth to preserve our country from invasion, our wives and daughters from violence, and ourselves from that infamy which everlastingly clings to those who prefer mere worldly considerations to the preservation of their honour.

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Bentley's Miscellany

By Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith, George Cruikshank,

Hablot Knight Browne

Published by Richard Bentley, 1848

Item notes: v. 23 (1848)

Original from the New York Public Library

Digitized 27 Nov 2007