the rest, “that raising or keeping a standing army within the kingdom, in time of peace, unless with consent of Parliament, is against law,” and they “claim and insist upon all the premises as their undoubted rights and liberties;” and it is declared and enacted, that all the rights and liberties so claimed, “are the true, ancient, and indubitable rights and liberties of the people of this kingdom.” These words, sir, are too strong and clear to need a comment; and on them with confidence I rest this matter in dispute.

I must trouble the House with a word or two on another very strange argument, indeed, which seemed to be used yesterday with a sort of triumph, by the Solicitor-General and others, and has been repeated in the course of this day’s debate, though with some attempts to soften it a little, and take off from that glaring absurdity which has already been so ably exposed : this, sir, is the comparison that has been made between this American war and some others in our history, which, though they were blundering and unsuccessful in the beginning, were glorious and prosperous in the event; from whence the strange inference has been drawn, that because this has been at least equally blundering and unfortunate in its outset, it should therefore be similar in its future glory and success; and the much stranger consequence, that we ought to pursue the same kind of measures that have proven so unfortunate, and continue to place our confidence in the same men who have been guilty of those blunders and mistakes. A right honourable gentleman who spoke early in this day’s debate, [Mr. Stanley,] endeavoured to state this with more appearance of reason, thus—I do not profess, sir, to repeat his very words, but I believe I can be pretty exact as to the substance: “It is not,” said he, “so absurd and ridiculous to allege that, because we had not, last year, full information; because we had reason to trust to appearances and probabilities, that have deceived us; because, trusting to them, we had not a force sufficient nor efficaciously employed—we are not, therefore, to infer that when we have full information; when those errors we looked into are rectified, and a sufficient force is efficaciously employed, our measures should not be attended with more prosperous success.”

I do not contend, sir, for that inference; on the contrary, I am fully persuaded that a rectification of our late errors and blunders, and total change of our measures, adopted upon full information, would be attended with a prosperous and happy event; but, sir, I do contend for the inference from these premises, that we are not to trust the same men who have so blundered and been deceived, or pursue even to a greater extent the same measures that have nearly undone us. Let me ask the right honourable gentleman and his friends, why had they not full information in matters of such importance? Why did they trust to uncertain appearances and probabilities, that have deceived them, when the fate of the empire was at stake? If they judged force necessary, why had they not a sufficient force, and why was not that force efficaciously employed? Are those men fit for the management of great affairs, who neglect the means of information that are in their power? Are Ministers equal to the government of a great empire, who trust the fate of it to deceitful appearances and the chapter of accidents? or ought they to be trusted with the direction of fleets and armies, who do not know what force is sufficient for their own plans and designs, or how it should be most effectually employed?

I shall now, sir, entreat the indulgence of the House, while I state, as shortly as I can, some of the reasons why I am against the whole of this sanguinary Address, and why I, for one, cannot consent to pledge myself for the truth of propositions, respecting which I have no evidence or information before me, and the approbation of measures which I, from my soul, detest and abhor. I shall not enter into the particulars of the Speech or Address which have been so ably observed upon in the course of two long days’ debate, I oppose, sir, the whole principle of the Address, because the avowed tendency of it is to plunge us still deeper in an unhappy civil war, and to pledge us to support a system of measures which appear to me to threaten ruin and destruction to this devoted country. I am against the present war, sir, because I think it unjust in its commencement, injurious to both countries in its prosecution, and ruinous in its event. It is staking the fate of a great empire against a shadow. The quarrel which occasioned it, took its rise from the assertion of a right, at best but doubtful in itself—a right from whence the warmest advocates for it have long been forced to admit that this country can never derive a single shilling of advantage. In spite of all the sophistry that has been used, and all the declamation we have heard on the dignity of this country and the authority of Parliament, the right of taxation is the only real and original subject of the dispute between Great Britain and her Colonies. This doubtful and unprofitable right has been attempted to be asserted and enforced by a series of laws, the most oppressive, the most violent, the most arbitrary, unjust, and tyrannical, that ever disgraced the annals of any civilized nation upon earth. I will not now, sir, enter into the particulars of these laws; but I mean the whole system of American legislation, from the Boston Port Bill to the present time.

This system of laws, sir, has produced its natural effect. It has driven your Colonies into rebellion, and we are now called upon to concur in exerting the whole power of this nation; in enforcing, by blood and destruction, that unjust and arbitrary system. The injustice of these measures, alone, would be sufficient to determine me against giving them approbation or support; but when I consider the inevitable consequences of them, I am still more strongly confirmed in that opinion. The war in which we are engaged is, of all others, in its nature, the most ruinous and destructive. Whatever may be the event, we must be the sufferers; for such is the unhappy nature of the contest, that the losses and mischiefs of both sides must ultimately fall upon us. Whose treasures will be exhausted by the expense? Whose commerce will be ruined and destroyed? The blood of whose subjects will be spilt but those of the British empire? If such are the present effects of this war, the event must be still more fatal to this kingdom. Let us consider it, sir, upon either supposition of success or disappointment, of conquest or defeat. The present situation of the Colonies, their union, their conduct, their enthusiastick spirit of liberty, and the fatal experience of the last campaign, has fully convinced every man, even the most sanguine, that we cannot expect bloodless laurels or an easy conquest. We must lay our accounts for the most alarming and dangerous resistance; and if a full exertion of all the powers and resources of this kingdom, (which I am far from thinking the most probable event,) should at length, after a long and obstinate contest, in which both sides will be almost equally exhausted, prevail over every effort of liberty, reduce the Colonies to a forced submission, and complete the conquest of America, in what respect shall we be gainers by such a conquest? What shall we acquire, at such an expense, but the empty assertion of an unprofitable sovereignty over desolated Provinces or a few miserable slaves? Instead of those flourishing dominions, the wealth and commerce of which have rendered us the greatest nation in the world, we shall find ourselves possessed of a vast territory, which, drained of the sources from whence that greatness flowed, that communicated itself so plentifully to us, will be not only useless and unprofitable, but burdensome and destructive; acquired by violence and force, it cannot be preserved but by the same means; and our acknowledged revenues must be still further drained, by the constant expense of fleets and armies, to support our unjust authority, and to defend from foreign invasion those Provinces which we shall have deprived of the means of defending themselves. These, sir, are the happy consequences that we may expect from the most prosperous success.

But suppose for a moment the event should be different; suppose the extent and natural advantages of their country, their distance from us, that union which our measures have produced, and, above all, that ardour of liberty, that enthusiastick and desperate spirit, which our injustice and oppression have excited, should carry the Americans through the dreadful struggle with success, and enable them, in the end, to baffle and defeat the utmost exertions of their infatuated and deluded country. In the course and event of such a struggle, is it possible to suppose that America will not follow the dangerous example which we are going to set her, of having recourse to foreign assistance; that in the future establishment of her commerce, she will not give the preference to any nation in Europe, over that which has attempted to enslave and destroy her, and has not desisted from the unnatural attempt, till after the utmost, though ineffectual