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A change of voice is here
in a'ge, has rece'ded from vi’rtue, and becomes mor'e-wicked/ with less te'mptation ;-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 crime; I have been accused of acting a thea'trical-part. (A the’atrical-part/ may either imply some peculia’rities of ge'sture, or/ a dissimulation of my r'eal-sentiments, and an ado'ption of the opi'nions and lan'guage of another-man.)
In the first-sense, Si’r, the charge is too tri'fling to be conf'uted, and deserves on'ly to be me'ntioned, that it may be despi'sed. I'am at li'berty (like every oʻther-man) to use my o'wn laʼnguage ; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this ge’ntleman, I shall not lay myself under any restr'aint, n'or/ very solicitously, coʻpy his dic'tion or his mi'en, (howe'ver matured by a'ge, or modelled by exp'erience.) But, 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 villain ;- nor shall ang protection sh'elter-him/ from the trea'tment/ he des'erves. I shall (on such an occasion, 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; a'ge, which always brings on e-privilege, that of being in solent and super'cilious without pu'nishment. But with regard, Sir, to those whom I have offe’nded, I am of opi'nion, that/ if I had acted a boorrowed part, I should have avo'ided their ce'nsure: the he'at/ that offe’nded them/ is the a'rdour of conviction, and that'-zeal/ for the ser'vice of my co’untry, which neither hoʻpe nor fea'r/ shall in'fluence 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 exert my ende’avours, at whatever ha'zard, to repe'i the Aggr'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 !
But,” thus placed, it will be recollected, requires considerable accentual force.
SPEECH ON EMPLOYING INDIANS TO FIGHT
AGAINST THE AMERICANS. Right Hon. Wm. Pitt-(Lord Chatham.) I CA'nnot, my lo'rds- I wi'll-not-join/ in congratula'tion on misfor'tune 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 abr’oad, 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
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 camp'aigns, we have do'ne no’thing, and su'ffered mu'ch. You may swell e'very expen'se, accu'mulate every assistance, and extend your t'raf- . fic to the sham'bles of every German d'espot ; your attempts will be for ever v'ain and impotent :-dou'bly so, inde'ed, from this mer'cenary-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, lo'rds ! 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 call (into civilized-alliance) the wi'ld 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 lords !-theose-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 po'licy and nec'essity, but, also on those of morality; “ for/ it is perfectly allo'wable,” says a noble Loʻrd, (S'uffolk,) “ to use all 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 att'ention; but I cannot repre'ss my indign'ation :- I feel myself impe'lled/ to speak. We are called upon, as meʼmbers of this Hou'se, -as me'n,-as Chr°istians, to protest against such h'orrible barba'rity !
“ That Go'd and Nat'ure have put into our ha'nds !". What ideas of God and N'ature, that noble lor'd may en'tertain, I know n'ot; but I know, that such detestable pri'nciples/ are equally abh'orrent to religion and hum'anity. Wh'at !-attribute the sacred sanction of God and Nature/ to the ma'ssacres of the Indian-scalping-knife !—to the ca'nnibal-savage, tor'turing, mur'dering, dev'ouring, drinking the blood of his man gled-victims! Su'ch-notions/ shock every precept of mora'lity--every feeling of huma'nity-every se'ntiment of ho'nour. These abo'minable-principles, and this mor'eabominable avo
wal-of-them, demand the most decisive-indignation.
I call upon that right r'everend, and th‘is most le’arnedBench,-to vi'ndicate the religion of their G'od;—to support the ju'stice of their cou’ntry. I call 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 loʻrdships, to reverence the dignity of your a'ncestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the s'pirit 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 lo‘rd/* frow'ns, with indign’ation, at the disgrace of his country. In va'in/ did he defend the liberty, and establish the religion of Bri’tain, against the tyʻranny of Ro'me ; if these wo'rse than Po'pish-cruelties, and inquisit'orial practices/ are endu'red/ among uos. To send forth the merciless c'annibal, thi'rsting for blood !-agai'nst who'm ? Your Pr'otestant bre'thren !mto lay wa'ste their country-to de solate their dw'ellings, and exti'rpate their ra'ce and na'me, by the ai`d 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.
Spaʻin/ can no longer bo'ast pre-e`minence in barb’arity. She armed herself with blo'od-hounds, to extir'pate 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 parti cularly, I call upon the venerable prelates of our reʼligion, to do away this iniquity. Let the'm perform a lustr'ation, to pur'ify the cou'ntry, 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 indignʼation/ were too stro'ng/ to allo'w me to say le’ss. I could not have slept this ni'ght/ in my bed, nor reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving ve'nt/ to my stead fast-abhorrence of such eno'rmous and pre-poʻsterous-principles.
CHARACTER OF THE EARL OF CHATHAM.
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. mi'nd/ overawed ma jesty its^elf. No state chica'nery, no narrow system of vi'cious po'litics, 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'ge/ 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 affect, not E'ngland, not the present age o'nly, but Eu ́rope and poste^rity. Wonderful were the m'eans/ by which these sche'mes were accoʻmplished ; always seasonable, al'ways a'dequate, the sugges'tions of an understa'nding/ an'imated by a'rdour, and enlig'htened/ by prophecy.
The ordinary fe'elings/ which make life amiable and i'ndolent/ were unkno'wn to hi°m. No domestic difficulties, no domestic weʻakness/ reached hiệm: b’ut, aloof from the sordid occu'rrences of life, and unsu'llied by its intercourse, he ca'me/ occasionally into our s'ystem, to cou’nsel and to deci'de.
A character/ so ex'alted, so stre'nuous, so vari'ous, and authoritative, astonished a corrupt ag'e, and the Treasury/ trembled at the name of Poitt/ through all her classes of venality! Corruption imagined, inde’ed, that she had found defe'cts in this state'sman, and ta’lked/ mu'ch 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 refusted her.
Nor were his poli'tical-abilities/ his on ly-talents. His eloquence/ was an e'ra in the s'enate, pec'uliar and spontan'eous, 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 somoetimes/ the mu°sic of the sphe'res. He did not conduct the underst'anding/ through the painful subtilty of argumentation ; nor was he for ever on the ra'ck of ex'ertion; but rather lig'htened upon the subject, 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 socʻiety, or to break the bonds of sla'very asu’nder, and to rule the wild'ness of fr'eeminds/ with unbou’nded autho'rity; 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.
EULOGY ON THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM PITT.
The sk'y/ if no longer dark tempests def'orm ;
No–here's to the Pi'lot/ 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.”