Mr. Brke⸺I must confess, Sir, notwithstanding my long and melancholy experience of the present administration, I cannot hear, without astonishment, the language held forth by the speech, and echoed in this day’s debate. This session, Sir, at a period big with horror, pregnant with ruin to this country, is ushered in with the song of triumph; and parliament are bid to rejoice at a time when nothing but the language of despair is to be heard throughout the nation. Surely, Sir, the hour is at last arrived, when humility and moderation ought to take place of pride and confidence; when, instead of launching further into a sea of troubles, we might be content to try what little can be saved from the wreck of national honour and prosperity. Ministers might at length condescend to tell us, what means are left to avert the gathering ruin; how we are to tread back the mazes of error and folly, through which we have been led; and where are the resources from which one gleam of hope might dawn upon us, in the hour of danger and despair—But, deaf to the solemn call of occasion and necessity, they rejoice in the absence of thought, in the contempt of foresight. Like the wretch who seeks in stupefaction a momentary relief from sorrow, they sink from a voluntary intoxication into a torpid insensibility. The illusion, indeed, is not to be confined within the narrow limits of their own minds; its baneful influence must be circulated through every corner of the nation; and, by a shameful perversion, that anxiety for the public welfare, which, in times like these, is, in my opinion, the highest of public virtues, must be amused with the pageantry of domestic warfare, or lulled by the opiate of our American Gazettes. I own, Sir, even on principles of criticism, I cannot but consider the stile of these Ministerial annals, as no very favourable criterion of the present times. In happier days, their characteristic was plain conciseness. Victories were then too rapid, too numerous, to admit of a dilated relation.—Success is seldom tedious, but I am afraid our highest atchievements have amounted to no more than the inroads of savages, or the depredations of pyrates. Upon my word, Sir, though we may censure our Officers, our Ministers at least shew some generalship; if they cannot deceive the enemy, they are prompt enough to mislead their countrymen; though they discover but little skill in the arrangement of armies, they have an admirable talent in marshalling Gazettes. They have given celebrity to sheep-stealing, and blazoned, in all the pompous prolixity of ostentatious phraseology, the important depredations at—Martha’s Island—Certainly, Sir, the gallant Commander of that expedition may vie in pastoral atchievements with Ajax, with Jason, or at least Don Quixote; and, if he does not obtain a triumph, he is clearly entitled to an ovation. Not, Sir, that I mean to cast any reflection on those Officers and Soldiers to whose lot these ridiculous services have fallen—they, no doubt, have effected every thing that the bravery of the British troops in such a situation could accomplish; but the Hand of Nature, Sir, has thrown in their way obstacles which it was not in the most obstinate valour, in the most consummate wisdom to surmount. It is a want of confidence in the directors of this war that has chilled every vein, and slackened every sinew of military enterprize. Besides, Sir, if I may be permitted to indulge a little superstition, there is a certain fatality attending the measures of Administration: through all their bungling operations of war, through all their wretched plans of peace, the evil Genius, Sir, of this country, seems to haunt their footsteps. He it is that has suffered them to wander on, undismayed by danger, unabashed by reproaches, from one absurdity to another, ’till our blunders and our follies have at length reared that stupendous fabric of American Empire that now engrosses the attention, and claims the wonder of mankind. Allow me, Sir, to pause for a moment, while I contemplate this phœnomenon of modern ages, this new constellation in the western hemisphere; a mighty and extensive empire, not rising by slow degrees and from small beginnings, but bursting forth at once into full vigour and maturity; not cherished in the soft lap of peace and commerce, but shaking off in its outset the long established dominion of a powerful master, and thriving in the midst of carnage and desolation. “Ab ipso ducit opes animumq. bello.” If we view them in another light, as completely enthroned in sovereignty, as receiving embassies from distant potentates, as forming leagues with the princes and states of Europe, we shall find more abundant matter for self-humiliation—I could wish to shut my eyes on the scene that follows: The parent baffled and depressed, imploring pardon of her injured and alienated children, yielding to their successful resistance, what she had denied to their prayers and petitions, and offering every concession short of a total emancipation; but scorned and rejected in her turn, not (as she had rejected them) with rudeness and insolence, but with firmness and with dignity; and convinced, at length, that the day of conciliation is past, and that the groundwork of peace can only be laid on the broad basis of equality and independance.
Is this the unconditional submission the noble Lord in the American department so prodigally announced? This is indeed unconditional submission, but unconditional submission from Great Britain to America.
Gentlemen may remember how often my voice has preached peace within these walls; how often it has warned administration to healing measures, while the wounds of America might yet have been closed. I will still repeat it, ’till the echo of this house shall be conscious of no other sound; Peace, Peace, Peace, is still my object.
It is now high time, Sir, that Gentlemen should awaken to a sense of our danger, that Parliament should discard those wretched schemes of short-sighted policy, which cannot, in our present situation, afford even a temporary refuge. As yet, we experience only the beginnings of our sorrows; but the storms of adversity are gathering fast around us, and the vessel is still trusted to the direction of Pilots, whose ignorance and obstinacy has been manifest to all the world.⸺What thanks, Sir, to the vigilance of our Rulers, that we are not already sunk beyond the possibility of redemption? What thanks to them, that the flower of our army and navy, and with them all the hopes of Britain had not withered before the power of a lately dejected but now triumphant enemy? Is it owing to their care that the rich produce of the Western Isles has not flowed into every harbour of France?
No, Sir, it is the hand of Providence that wards off for a while the ruin of this declining empire. It is Providence alone that has preserved our gallant Admirals in America, by an almost miraculous interposition.—It is due to Providence alone, that the heart-strings of our commerce are not cut asunder by the sword of our adversaries.
I own, Sir, I cannot join in an implicit approbation of such ministers: I must be a little better acquainted with their merits before I can place an unlimited confidence in their wisdom and discretion; that discretion which has led us into a labyrinth of difficulties; that wisdom that cannot find a clue for our deliverance.
Mr. Dnn[in]g.
Mr Dnnng said a few words, which, from the learned gentleman’s being particularly hoarse and uncommonly inarticulate, owing (as has been suggested) to a violent cold, and a multiplicity of business in Westminster-hall, we could not collect with the accuracy that we wish to observe on every occasion. His language was neat and pointed, though somewhat tinctured with professional pedantry: his arguments seemed ingenious, though perhaps too refined for the comprehension of his auditors. He had much antithesis, much verbal gingle, and many whimsical climaxes. He talked of the competency or incompetency of the House to the discussion of the present question; of the materiality or immateriality of the proposed amendment; of the responsibility or irresponsibility of Ministers. He said, he neither asked, nor knew, nor cared to what the present question might ultimately tend; but of this he was confident, that it’s propriety was clearly evinced, and it’s necessity irrefragably proved by that opposition which purported to baffle it.—Upon the whole, his harrangue seemed to be a medley of legal quibble and quaint humour.
Mr. S[olicito]r G[enera]l.
Mr. S[o]llct[o]r-G[e]n[e]r[a]l, Contra, began with declaring, that when he tuk his present office, he understud it to be a General Retainer, to shew cause in behalf of Administration: That, therefore, he hoped to be favoured with a few words by way of replication to his learned friend: That he might in this case have insisted on want of notice, but, for the sake of candour in practice, he would waive that objection; for, that he had no doubt, on the merits, but that judgment wud be given in his favour: Protesting, that the speech was warranted by precedent, and had the highest authority in it’s support: Protesting also, that no gud objection cud be made to the address, as it strictly pursued the very words of the speech. He justified, under an immemorial custom, that Administration have been accustomed to have, and still of right ought to have, certain echoes in this House, called Addresses.—He admitted, that true it was, there had been some errors in our proceedings with respect to America; but he was informed, and believed, that Sir Henry Clinton intended to have a new trial. As to the cause of Great Britain versus France, he had been given to understand and be informed, that the place in which the trespass was supposed to have been committed, was, parcel of the Island of Dominica, in parts beyond the seas; which place said French, with force of arms, to wit, with ships of divers guns, drums, trumpets, bayonets, hand grenades, and cartridge boxes, had broken and entered, doing nevertheless as little damage on that occasion as they possibly cud: but that he was clearly of opinion, that if the troops of said France should traverse the Channel, and lay a Venue in Kent or Sussex, issue might be joined by the militia at Cox-Heath; and, in that case, afterwairds, if verdict shud be given in our favour, the adverse party would sustain heavy and exemplary damages.—He concluded with averring, that he approved of the address in it’s present form; and that he should demur to the amendment moved by the Noble Lud, as multifarious, uncertain, insufficient, and informal.