and Friere,) that ’such part of the plunder as was in money, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to identify;’ and, consequently, the French could not be prevented from carrying it away with them.  From the same letters we learn, that ’the French were intending to carry off a considerable part of their plunder, by calling it public money, and saying that it belonged to the military chest; and that their evasions of the article were most shameful, and evinced a want of probity and honour, which was most disgraceful to them.’  If the French had given no other proofs of their want of such virtues, than those furnished by this occasion, neither the Portugueze, nor Spanish, nor British nations would condemn them, nor hate them as they now do; nor would this article of the Convention have excited such indignation.  For the French, by so acting, could not deem themselves breaking an engagement; no doubt they looked upon themselves as injured,—­that the failure in good faith was on the part of the British; and that it was in the lawlessness of power, and by a mere quibble, that this construction was afterwards put upon the article in question.

Widely different from the conduct of the British was that of the Spaniards in a like case:—­with high feeling did they, abating not a jot or a tittle, enforce the principle of justice.  ‘How,’ says the governor of Cadiz to General Dupont in the same noble letter before alluded to, ‘how,’ says he, after enumerating the afflictions which his army, and the tyrant who had sent it, had unjustly brought upon the Spanish nation, (for of these, in their dealings with the French, they never for a moment lost sight,) ‘how,’ asks he, ’could you expect, that your army should carry off from Spain the fruit of its rapacity, cruelty, and impiety? how could you conceive this possible, or that we should be so stupid or senseless?’ And this conduct is as wise in reason as it is true to nature.  The Spanish people could have had no confidence in their government, if it had not acted thus.  These are the sympathies which, prove that a government is paternal,—­that it makes one family with the people:  besides, it is only by such adherence to justice, that, in times of like commotion, popular excesses can either be mitigated or prevented.  If we would be efficient allies of Spain, nay, if we would not run the risk of doing infinite harm, these sentiments must not only be ours as a nation, but they must pervade the hearts of our ministers and our generals—­our agents and our ambassadors.  If it be not so, they, who are sent abroad, must either be conscious how unworthy they are, and with what unworthy commissions they appear, or not:  if they do feel this, then they must hang their heads, and blush for their country and themselves; if they do not, the Spaniards must blush for them and revolt from them; or, what would be ten thousand times more deplorable, they must purchase a reconcilement and a communion by a sacrifice of all that is excellent in themselves.  Spain must either break down her lofty spirit, her animation and fiery courage, to run side by side in the same trammels with Great Britain; or she must start off from her intended yoke-fellow with contempt and aversion.  This is the alternative, and there is no avoiding it.