and romantic.’  History is philosophy teaching by example; and the words of the wise are treasured for ages that are to come.  ‘The age of chivalry’, said Mr. Burke, ’is gone; and an age of economists and calculators has succeeded.’  That an age of economists and calculators is come, we have indeed every night’s experience.  But what would be the surprise, and at the same time the gratification, of the mighty spirit of Burke, at finding his splendid lamentation so happily disproved!—­at seeing that chivalrous spirit, the total extinction of which he deplored, revive, qua minime veris, on the very benches of the economists and calculators themselves!  But in truth, Sir, it revives at a most inconvenient opportunity.  It would be as ill-advised to follow a chivalrous impulse now, as it would in 1808 have been inexcusable to disobey it.  Under the circumstances of 1808, I would again act as I then acted.  But though inapplicable to the period to which it was applied, I confess I think the caution which I have just quoted does apply, with considerable force, to the present moment.

Having shown, then, that in reference to the state of Spain, war was not the course prescribed by any rational policy to England, let us next try the question in reference to France.

I do not stop here to refute and disclaim again the unworthy notion, which was early put forward, but has been since silently retracted and disowned, that it might have been advisable to try the chance of what might be effected by a menace of war, unsupported by any serious design of carrying that menace into execution.  Those by whom this manoeuvre was originally supposed to be recommended are, I understand, anxious to clear themselves from the suspicion of having intended to countenance it, and profess indeed to wonder by whom such an idea can have been entertained.  Be it so:  I will not press the point invidiously—­it is not necessary for my argument.  I have a right then to take it as admitted, that we could not have threatened war without being thoroughly prepared for it; and that, in determining to threaten, we must virtually have determined (whatever the chances of escaping that ultimate result) to go to war—­that the determinations were in fact identical.

Neither will I discuss over again that other proposition, already sufficiently exhausted in former debates, of the applicability of a purely maritime war to a struggle in aid of Spain, in the campaign by which her fate is to be decided.  I will not pause to consider what consolation it would have been to the Spanish nation—­what source of animation, and what encouragement to perseverance in resisting their invader—­to learn that, though we could not, as in the last war, march to their aid, and mingle our banners with theirs in battle, we were, nevertheless, scouring their coasts for prizes, and securing to ourselves an indemnification for our own expenses in the capture of Martinico.