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in a'ge, has rece'ded from vi’rtue, and becomes mor'e-wicked/ with le'ss temptation ;—who prostitutes himself for mo'ney/ which he cannot enj'oy, and spends the rema'ins of his l'ife/ in the ru’in of his country. But you“th, Sir, is not my on'ly criome; I have been accused of acting a theatrical-part. (X the’atrical-part/ may either imply some peculia’rities of ge'sture, or/ a dissimula'tion of my r'eal-sentiments, and an ado'ption of the opi'nions and lan'guage of anot'her-man.)

In the first-sense, Si'r, the charge is too tri'Aing to be conf'uted, and deserves on'ly to be me'ntioned, that it may be despi'sed. I am at liberty (like every oʻther-man) to use my o'wn la'nguage ; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambi tion/ to please this ge'ntleman, I shall not lay myself under any restr'aint, n'or/ very soli citously/ copy his dic'tion or his mi'en, (howe'ver matured by a'ge, or modelled by exp'erience.) B’ut, if an'y-man sh'all, by charging me with theatrical beh'aviour, imply, that I utter a’ny-sentiments/ bu't my o‘wn, I shall treat him as a calu'mniator, and a vi'llain ;~nor shall any protection sh'elter-him/ from the treatment/ he des'erves. I sh'all (on such an occas'ion, without sc'ruple,) trample upon all those for'ms/ with which we'alth and dignity/ intr'ench theʼmselves,-nor/ shall a'ny-thing/ bu't* a'ge/ restra'in my rese'ntment; aoge, which always brings on'e-privilege, that of being in solent and super cilious without punishment. But with regard, Sir, to tho'se/ whom I have offe’nded, I am of opi'nion, that/ if I had acted a boʻrrowed part, I should have avo'ided their censure: the he'at/ that offe'nded them/ is the a'rdour of convi’ction, and that'-zeal/ for the ser'vice of my coʻuntry, which neither hoʻpe nor fea'r/ shall influence me to suppr'ess. I will not sit u’nconcerned while my lib'erty is inv'aded, nor look in sil'ence/ upon pu'blic-robbery. I will

ende’avours, at whatever ha'zard, to repe'i the Ag. gr'essor, and drag the Thi ef to ju'stice,-whoever may protect him in his vi’llany, and whoever may pa'rtake of his plun'der !

exert my

* “ But,” thus placed, it will be recollected, requires considerable accentual force.



Right Hon. Wm. Pitt-(Lord Chatham.) I CA'NNOT, my loʻrds,—I wiʻll-not-join/ in congratulaʼtion on misfortune and disgr’ace. Th'is, my lor'ds, is a pe'rilous and tremendous-moment: it is not a time for adul'ation: the smoothness of flaîttery/ cannot sa've us in this r'ugged and a'wful cr'isis.

The desperate state of our army abroad, i's, in p'art, kno'wn. No man more highly este’ems and honours-the-English troops/ than I'-do: I know their vir'tues and their va'lour: I know they can achieve a'ny-thing/ bu't impossib'ilities; and I know/ that the conquest of En ́glish-America/ is' an impossibility. You ca'nnot-my

lor'ds !

you cann'ot conquer Am'erica.What is your present situation the're ? We do not know the woʻrst; but we kno'w, tha't, in three campaigns, we have do'ne no’thing, and su'ffered mu'ch. You may swell e'very expen'se, accu'mulate every as'sistance, and extend your t'raffic to the sham'bles of every German d'espot; your attempts will be for ever r'ain and impotent :-dou'bly so, indesed, from this mercenary-aid, on which you re'ly; for/ it i'rritates, (to an incu'rable rese’ntment,) the mi'nds of your

a'dversaries, to overr’un them/ with the mercenary sons of ra'pine and plu’nder; devoting the'm and their pos'sessions/ to the rapa'city-of hire'ling-cruelty.

Bu't, my loʻrds ! wh'o is the ma'n, tha't, in addi'tion to the disgra'ces and mis'chiefs of the wa'r, has dared to authorize, and ass'ociate to our ar'ms, the toʻmahawk and sc'alping-knife of the s'avage ?—to c'all (into ci'vilized-alliance) the wild and inhu'man-inhabitants of the wo'ods ?—to d'elegate (to the mer'ciless In’dian) the defen'ce of disputed rigʻhts? and to w'age the ho'rrors of his barbarous warfare/ against our brethren ?

My lor'ds !-these-enormities/ cry alo'ud/ for redr'ess and for pu'nishment.

B'ut, this bar'barous-measure/ has been defe'nded, not only on the principles of policy and nec'essity, but, also on those of morality; " for/ it is perfectly allo'wable,” says a noble Lo'rd, (S'uffolk,) “to ūse āll the mēans that God and Nāture have pūt into our hānds."

I am asto'nished, -I am shoʻcked, to hear su'ch-principles/confe^ssed :-to hear them avo'wed in this Hoʻuse, or in this coun`try.

My loʻrds, I did not intend to encroach so much on your attention; but I cannot repre'ss my indign’ation :-I feel myself impelled to speak. We are called upon, as members of this Hou'se, -as me'n,-as Chr°istians, to protest against such h'orrible barba'rity !

“ That Go'd and Nature have put into our ha'nds !”. What ideas of God and Nature, that noble lor'd


en'tertain, I know n'ot; but I kno'w, that such detestable pri'nciples are equally abh'orrent to religion and humanity. Wh'at !-attribute the sacred sanction of Go'd and Nature/ to the ma'ssacres of the Indian-scalping-knife to the ca'nnibal-savage, tor'turing, mur'dering, dev'ouring, drinking the bloʻod of his man'gled-victims ! Su'ch-notions/ shock every pr'ecept of mora'lity-every fee'ling of huma'nity-every se'ntiment of ho'nour. These abo'minable-principles, and this mor'eabominable avo°wal-of-them, demand the most deci'sive-indignation.

I call upon that right r’everend, and this most le’arnedBench,—to vi'ndicate the religion of their G'od;-to suppo'rt the ju'stice of their country. I ca'll upon the bi'shops/ to interpose the unsu'llied-sanctity of their la'wn, -- upon the ju`dges to interpose the pu’rity of their eʼrmine,—to sa've us/ from this po'llution. I call upon the ho‘nour of your

lo'rdships, to r'everence the di'gnity of your a'ncestors, and to maintain your o‘wn. I call upon the sspirit and huma'nity of my co’untry, to vin'dicate the na'tional-character. I invoke the ge'nius of the constitution.

From the ta'pestry/ that ado'rns these w'alls, the immortal ancestor of this noble loʻrd/* frow'ns, with indign’ation, at the disgrace of his country. In va'in/ did he defend the liberty, and establish the reli’gion of Bristain, against the ty'ranny of Ro'me ; if these woʻrse than Po'pish-cruelties, and inquisitorial practices/ are endu'red/ among u's. To send forth the merciless c'annibal, thi’rsting for bloood !-agai'nst who'm ? Your Pr'otestant bre'thren !--to lay wa'ste their cou'ntry-to de'solate their dw'ellings, and exti'rpate their ra'ce and naʼme, by the aid and instrumen'tality of these hor'rible-savages !

* Lord Howard of Effingham, the successful commander-in-chief of Queen Elizabeth's naval forces employed against the celebrated Spanish Armada, in 1588.

Spa'in/ can no longer bo'ast pre-e`minence in barb'arity. She armed herself with blo'od-hounds, to extirpate the wretched natives of M'exico; woe (mo're ru'thless) loose those brutal wa’rriors/ against our cou'ntrymen in Am'erica -endea'red-tous by every t'ie/ that can sa'nctify huma'nity.

I solemnly call upon your lor'dships, and upon every order of me'n in the sta'te, to stam'p/ upon this in'famous-procedure the inde'lible sti'gma of pu'blic abhor'rence. More particularly, I call upon the venerable prelates of our re'ligion, to do away this ini quity. Let the'm perform a lustr'ation, to pur'ify the cou’ntrys from this de’ep and deadly-sin.

My lor'ds, I am old and we'ak; an'd, at present, una'ble to say mo're ; but my fee'lings and indign'ation/ were too stro'ng/ to allo'w me to say leoss. I could not have slept this ni’ght/ in my be'd, nor reposed my hea'd upon my p'illow, without giving ve'nt/ to my stead'fast-abhorrence of such eno'rmous and prepoʻsterous-principles.


RIGHT Hon. HENRY GRATTAN. The secretary, stood alone. Modern-degeneracy/ had not rea'ched-him. Original and u'naccommodating, the features of his ch'aracter/ had the ha'rdihood of antiquity. His' august mi'nd/ overawed ma jesty itself. No state chica'nery, no narrow system of vi'cious poʻlitics, no idle-cont'est for ministerial vi'ctories, sunk him to the vulgar level of the great ; bu't, overbea'ring, persuas'ive, and impra'cticable, his object was En'gland, his amb'ition was fam'e. Without div'iding, he destroyed party; without corru'pting, he made a venal a'gel una'nimous. France/ sunk ben eath him. With o'ne-hand/ he sm'ote the ho'use of Bourb'on, and wiel'ded/ in the other, the dem’ocracy of Eng'land. The sight of his mi'nd/ was in'finite; and his sc'hemes/ wer'e to aff'ect, not E'ngland, not the present age o'nly, but Euịrope and posteņrity. Wonderful were the m'eans/ by which these sche'mes were acco'mplished ; always seasonable, al'ways a'dequate, the sugges'tions of an understa'nding/ an'imated by a'rdour, and enligʻhtened/ by prop'hecy.

The ordinary fe'elings, which make life amiable and i'ndolent/ were unkno'wn to hiom. No domestic difficulties, no domestic weakness/ reached him: b’ut, aloof from the sordid occu'rrences of life, and unsu'llied by its i’ntercourse, he came/ occa'sionally into our s'ystem, to cou’nsel and to deci'de.

A character/ so ex'alted, so stre'nuous, so various, and auth'oritative, astonished a corrupt ag'e, and the Treasury/ trembled at the name of P’itt/ through all her classes of vena'lity! Corrup'tion imagined, inde'ed, that she had found defe'cts in this state'sman, and ta’lked/ much of the inconsi'stency of his glo'ry, and mu'ch of the ru'in of his vi ́ctories ; b’ut, the hi'story of his country, and the cala'mities of the e'nemy, an'swered, and refu'ted her.

Nor were his political-abilities/ his on-ly-talents. His eloquence/ was an era in the s'enate, pec'uliar and spontaneous, familiarly-expressing/ gigan'tic se'ntiments and instin'ctive woisdom: not like the tor'rent of Demo'sthenes, or the sple'ndid conflagra'tion of Tu'lly; it resembled/ some times the thu’nder, and som etimes the mu°sic of the sphe'res. He did not conduct the understanding/ through the painful su'btilty of argumentation; nor was he for ever on the ra'ck of ex'ertion ; but rather lightened upon the su bject, and reached the poi'nt/ by the fla'shings of the mi'nd, whi’ch, (like thos'e of his eye,) were fe'lt, but could not be followed.

Upon the who'le, there wa's in thi's-man some thing/ that could create, sub'vert, or refo'rm; an understa'nding, a spi'rit, and an e‘loquence, to summon mankind to soc'iety, or to break the bonds of slavery asu’nder, and to rule the wild'ness of fr'eeminds/ with unbou’nded authoʻrity; som’ething/ that could esta'blish or overwh'elm emp’ire, and strike a blo'w in the woʻrld/ that should resou’nd/ through the un'iverse.


IF hushed the loud wh'irlwind/* that ruffled the de'ep,

The sk'y/ if no lon ger dark tempests def'orm;
When our perils are pa'st, shall our gratitude sle’ep ?

N'o-here's to the Pilot/ that weathered-the-storm! * In grave and solemn poetry, and in the “Sacred Scriptures,” I would recommend that this compound-poun, as well as "wind,” should be pronounced with the long I, so as to rhyme with “hind.”

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