I RISE with vast astonishment to see these pa­papers ^* brought to your table in so late a pe­riod of this business; papers, I am sure, the contents of which are already known, not only to every noble Lord in this House, but almost to eve­ry person in this kingdom, who has made American affairs in the least an object of inquiry; yet now, in the very tail of this business, when measures should be long since determined on, we are fur­nished [Page 4] with an empty parade of parchments—to tell us what? Why, what all the world knew be­fore —that the Americans, sore under injuries, and irritated by wrongs, stript of their inborn Rights and dearest Privileges, have resisted, and entered into associations for the preservation of that blessing to which life and property are but secondary considerations.

Give me leave to ask you, my Lords, how these associations have been formed? Has the tide of corruption yet flowed in upon their elections? Have those delegates been suborned? Or have great interest, great power, or great threats been used (as is too much the case in this our boasted mother country) to crayon out what conduct they should adopt? No—nothing like this has appear­ed; the electors seem to be prompted by no other motive than that glorious, and exalted one, the pre­servation of their common Liberties; and under this idea they have been induced to appoint men competent to so great an undertaking; men of tried and sound principles, embarked in the same great cause, and, from similar sentiments, taught to pity the miseries of the whole.

Invested then with this right (the choice of a free people) these delegates have deliberated with prudence, wisdom, and spirit; and, in consequence of these deliberations, have addressed the ju­stice, and honor of this country. This is their fault; this is their crime; petitioning for that, with­out which a free people cannot possibly exist;— yet, for asking this boon, this unalienable privilege of Englishmen, are they reprobated, and stigmatiz­ed with the epithets of ingrates—traitors—and rebels.

[Page 5]Had the early situation of the people of Boston been attended to, my Lords, it would not have come to this—but the infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the capricious squalls of a child, who, it was said, did not know whether it was aggrieved, or not.—But full well, my Lords, I knew, at that time, that this child, if not redres­sed, would soon assume the courage, and voice of a man. The Bostonians did not then complain upon slight, or temporary evil; but on an evil which sapped the very vitals of their constitution, and reduced all the great blessings of life to chance, equivocation, and insecurity. Full well I knew that the sons of ancestors, born under the same free constitution, and once breathing the same liberal air as Englishmen—ancestors, who even quitted this land of Liberty, the moment it became the land of Oppression, and, in resistance to bigotted councils, and oppressive measures, tore themselves from their dearest connexions; I say, my Lords, full well I knew that the offspring of such ances­tors would resist upon the same principles, and on the same occasions.

It has, however, gone abroad, that the resolu­tions, and petitions, of the Congress are not the re­al resolutions and petitions of the sober, respectable, and dispassionate; but the very dregs and refuse of the people; and to circulate this report the better, letters are handed about from some very respec­table merchants (as they are called) from the dif­ferent provinces. But well I know how to de­scribe such merchants—little paltry, peddling fel­lows, venders of twopenny wares, and falshoods, who under the idea of trade, sell every thing in [Page 6] their power—Honor, Trust, and Conscience.

These fellows (for such is the lot of humanity) are ever to be found in all countries—and are al­ways in great plenty when their country is at stake, who, without ever regarding consequences, and that general ruin might ensue, press forward to the goal of lucre, and cut out the shortest passage to their own interests.

Yet these are the men, who are held out to us to take a true state of the country from; Men who act, upon the most illiberal principles, chil­dren of the world; who have no fixed residence —no lasting attachments, but to the shrine of Mammon. But it is not such that ever speak the voice of a people—it is the proprietors, and tillers of the ground—men who have a permanent—na­tural right in the place—and who from being nurs­ed in the bosom of cultivation, form strong and honorable attachments to their country;—it is to these, credit and authority are to be given, and from these our best informations are to be drawn.

Much, my Lords, has been said about the au­thority of Parliament in these cases, and when men are driven for want of argument, they fly to this as their last resource—"Acts of Parliament (say their advocate) are sacred, and should be impli­citly submitted to; for if the supreme power does not lodge somewhere operatively and effectually, there must be an end of all legislation." But my Lord, they who argue, or rather dogmatize in this manner, do not see the whole of this question on great, wise, and liberal grounds; for in all tree states the constitution is fixed, and all legislative power and authority, wherever placed, either in [Page 7] collective bodies or individually, must derive under that constitution who framed them.—Acts of le­gislation, therefore, however strong and effective they may be, when they are framed in the spirit of this constitution, yet when they resist, they attack their own foundation; for it is the constitution, and it alone, that limits both sovereignty and alle­giance.

This doctrine, my Lords, is no temporary doc­trine, taken up on particular occasions to answer particular purposes, it is involved in no metaphysi­cal doubts and intricacies—but clear, precise, and determined. It is recorded in all our law books, it is written in the great volume of nature—it is the essential, unalterable right of Englishmen—it ac­cords with all the principles of justice and civil po­licy, which neither armed force on the one side, nor submission on the other, can upon any occasion whatever eradicate.

It was this doctrine that was the great guide and spirit to the framers of the bill of rights, at the peri­od of the glorious revolution—men of the greatest accuracy, wisdom, and honesty; and, without any disparagement to the present day, few such coun­sellors are now to be seen. Recollect, my Lords, for a moment, the arguments used by these men— and see how wise, liberal, and constitutional they were; turn then to their opponents, and how flim­sy, thin, and unprovided they appear! if then we applaud our ancestors for obtaining such liberties for us, at a time when all the rights of Englishmen were trampled upon, and despotism had trodden down the laws, surely we cannot, in reason, deny that portion of liberty (so hardly and honorably ob­tained) [Page 8] to our own brethren—brethren by the same common parent, and who are unquestionable heirs of the same glorious inheritance.

The facts being then, my Lords, as I have stated them, what has government done? they have sent an armed force, consisting of above seventeen thou­sand men, to dragoon the Bostonians into what is called their duty, and for the chastisement of a small rabble, consisting of the necessitous and cha­racterless in doing an unlawful act, have involved above thirty thousand inhabitants in the greatest difficulty, oppression, and consternation. Is this the way to win men to their duty, and recover in them the principles of affection and British allegi­ance? Do you think, that men who could be rous­ed to forego their profits, their pleasures, and the peaceable enjoyment of their dearest connections —all for the sake of liberty, will be whipped into vassalage like slaves? Why, my Lords, this conduct in government is so fantastical and aerial in practice, that it by far exceeds the boldest wing of poetry; for poetry has often read pleasing, as well as in­structive lessons to mankind; and though it some­times amuses herself in fiction, that fiction, to please, should be founded on verisimilitude. But in this wise system there is nothing like truth, nothing like policy, nothing like justice, experience, or com­mon sense.

But, my Lords, government, so far from once turning its eyes to the policy and destructive conse­quence of this scheme, are constantly sending out more troops; and we are told, in the language of menace, that if seventeen thousand men wont do, fifty thousand shall. 'Tis true, my Lords, with this [Page 9] force they may ravage the country; waste and destroy as they march; but in the progress of se­venteen hundred miles, can they occupy the pla­ces they have passed? Will not a country, which can produce three millions of people, wronged and insulted as they are, start up like Hydras in every corner, and gather fresh strength from fresh oppo­sition? Nay, what dependance can you have upon the soldiery, the unhappy engines of your wrath? They are Englishmen; who must feel for the pri­vileges of Englishmen; and their carrying muskets and bayonets about them, surely does not exclude them the pale of civil community. Do you think that these men, then, can turn their arms against their brethren?—Surely no—a victory must be to them a defeat—carnage—a sacrifice.

But, my Lords, it is not merely three millions of people, the produce of America, we have to combat with, in this unnatural struggle; many more are on their side, dispersed over the face of this wide em­pire. Every Whig in this country is for them. Ireland is with them to a man; nay, even those Englishmen, who may be now temporarily inac­tive, when they once come to be rouzed to a sense of recollection; when they come to weigh the great line of right, which their brethren in A­merica are contending for, the sense of their own danger will instruct them to range themselves on their side.

Who then, in the name of Heaven! could advise this measure? or who can continue to give this strange and unconstitutional advice? I do not mean to level at one man, or any particular set of men; but thus much I will declare, that if his M—con­tinues [Page 10] to hear such counsellors, he will not only be badly advised, but undone. He may wear his C—n indeed, it is true, but it will not be worth his wearing: Robbed of so principal a jewel as Ame­rica, it will lose its lustre, and no longer beam that effulgence which should irradiate the brow of M—y. What then is become of this boasted coun­try of England, once so renowned in arts, as well as arms? What is become of her constitution, that has hitherto been the wonder as well as the envy of surrounding nations! has she changed her civil power, and salutary laws for a military code? Or has she transferred her seat of empire to Constanti­nople?—Has she, who has often shed her dearest blood in the manly resistance of despotism, now not only tamely submitted to it, but sat down herself to forge the arbitrary chains?

But our present governors, alas! think so little of this matter, that I hear General Gage has been thought to have acted too tardy in this business— that he has not been swift enough to execute ven­geance, and sheath the sword in the bowels of his countrymen. I really pity the unfortunate situa­tion of that gentleman, who has approved himself on many occasions a gallant soldier, and humane man; for what, from being under the disagreea­ble predicament of doing his duty on the one side, and his own feelings of justice and policy on the other, what a conflict must he have! his situation, my Lords, puts me in mind of a similar transaction in the civil wars of France, when the great Conde on one side, and Marshal Turenne on the other, commanded different armies; the latter conscious what terrible consequences a victory must produce [Page 11] to himself and country, though often in his power, avoided blows as much as possible. After the affair was over, the Marshal was thus reprimanded at court for not at least taking the Prince; pourquoi ne l'avez vous pas pris? but that great General ve­ry sensibly replied, parceque, Sire, si je l'avois fait tout Paris en revanche m'auroit pris. "Should I take him, please your Majesty, I was afraid all Pa­ris would take me."

In this alarming crisis, this distracted view of af­fairs, I come, my Lords, with this paper in my hand (holding out his motion) to offer you the best of my experience and advice, which is "to beseech his Ma­jesty that he would be graciously pleased to give im­mediate orders to Gen. Gage to withdraw his troops from before the town of Boston, in order to open the way for a plan of concord and reconciliation;" and this, my Lords, upon the most mature and deliberate grounds, is the best advice I can give you at this junc­ture. Such a conduct will convince America that you mean to try her cause in the spirit ot freedom & inqui­ry, and not in letters of blood; it will be a pledge to her that you mean nothing more than friendship and equity, and she, I trust, will meet you half way. But how can she trust you with the bayonet at her breast? Nay, how does she know, but after having submitted to the sword, you mean to forge for her heavier chains, the general consequence of ferocious victory.

I have crawled, my Lords, to this house to day, to tell you so—I think it my duty to give the whole of my experience, & council to my country at all times, but more particularly, when she is in so much need of it; and having thus entered on the threshold of this business, I will knock at your gates of justice, and never stop, ex­cept infirmities shall nail me to my bed, until I [Page 12] have, at least, tried every thing in my power to heal those unhappy divisions.

There is no time to be lost—every hour is big with danger—perhaps even whilst I am now speaking, the decisive blow is struck, which may involve millions in the consequence; and believe me, the very first drop of blood that is spilled, will not be a wound easily skinned over—it will be ir­ritabile v [...]lnus; a wound of that rancorous and festering kind, that, in all probability, will mortify the whole body.

Let us then, my Lords, instantly begin with this business, but let us not act, as hitherto has been acted—taking it up by bits and scrapes, as exigen­cies pressed, without any regard to general rela­tions, and dependencies. What signifies merely repealing this, or that particular act? This is but meanly sneaking out of one difficulty perhaps to get into a worse, and can never answer the purpo­ses of a wise, amicable, and constitutional system. The more annihilation of a few, little, dirty shreds of parchment—can never produce any lasting ef­fect on the happiness, and commerce of three mil­lions of people, hitherto ground down with mise­ries and wrongs, and in hourly dread of having them occasionally rehearsed.

We must look on this great business in one large connected view, work on it, step by step, with cau­tion, and liberality, and never lose sight of it until it is accomplished;—this is the way, not only to obtain confidence for the present, but solid and lasting happiness for the future: The line thus drawn, the Americans will have something to [...] to—and we shall be taught not to transgress [Page 13] that line.—Thus mutual confidence will be be­gun, and mutual benefit must follow. I know that it has been in circulation, that if the stamp act had never been repealed, we should be at this hour in peace and quietness with America; and from this many people urge the danger, as well as inef­ficacy of conciliating measures at present. But though I could readily confute the falshood, and absurdity of this assertion, by appealing to the very official letters from your American Govenors at that period—I shall wave this ground, and only mention to your Lordships a circumstance, which will set this matter in a full clearer light, and show you the temper, firmness, and complexion of the Bostonians on that occasion.

Sometime after the repeal of that act, I happen­ed to be in company (at the house of a mutual friend above 100 miles from this town) with one of the most considerable, and intelligent merchants in this country; in a conversation I had with him upon this subject, I begged him to be as explicit as possible in giving me his opinion on the repeal. This gentleman then told me, and confirmed his account by several written and respectable eviden­ces, that the people of Boston, previous to the re­peal, waited in fullen silence the deliberations of the British parliament, and were p [...]s [...]vely deter­mined, if that [...] victory had not been obtained, immediately to abandon the town, their residence, and all the benefits of commerce; to the country they were determined to retire with their families and friends, more happy to be freemen though til­lers of the earth, than slaves under the greatest prosperity. Does this resolution look like tamely [Page 14] submitting to indignities? Or does it shew that it is owing to this just relaxation of government, that they have been taught to act with that firmness, and perseverance, they have since that period pur­sued?

I would not, however, wish, my Lords, by this to encourage America to proceed beyond the line of right—I reprobate as much as any of you those acts of violence which a few of her mobility have committed; but when her inherent, constitu­tional rights are invaded, those rights she has an equitable claim to the full enjoyment of, by the fundamental laws of the English constitution, and ingrafted on that constitution by the unalterable laws of nature; then I own myself an American; and feeling myself as such, shall, to the verge of my life, vindicate her Rights. If America, howe­ver, should, at any time lose sight of this Line, I shall be an Englishman, and defend those Rights against any power, under Heaven, that would op­pose them.—