them. Even your own victories over America are in favour of France, from what they must cost you in men and money; your victories over France will be felt by her ally. America must be conquered in France; France never can be conquered in America. The war of the Americans is a war of passion; it is of such a nature as to be supported by the most powerful virtues—love of liberty and of country; and, at the same time, by those passions in the human heart, which give courage, strength, and perseverance to man-the spirit of revenge for the injuries you have done them; of retaliation for the hardships you have inflicted on them; and of opposition to the unjust powers you have exercised over them. Everything combines to animate them to this war, and such a war is without end; for, whatever obstinacy enthusiasm ever inspired man with, you will now find it in America: no matter what gives birth to that enthusiasm, whether the name of religion or of liberty, the effects are the same; it inspires a spirit that is unconquerable, and solicitous to undergo difficulty, danger, and hardship; and as long as there is a man in America a being formed such as we are, you will have him present himself against you in the field. The war of France is of another sort; the war of France is a war of interest: it was her interest first induced her to engage in it, and it is by that interest she will measure its continuance. Speech on the Address to the King's Speech, Nov. 26, 1778. Capture of Monmouth. Thus ended the decisive battle of Sedgemoor, an attack which seems to have been judiciously conceived, and in many parts spiritedly executed. The general was deficient neither in courage nor conduct; and the troops, while they displayed the native bravery of Englishmen, were under as good discipline as could be expected from bodies newly raised. Two circumstances seem to have principally contributed to the loss of the day: first, the unforeseen difficulty occasioned by the ditch, of which the assailants had no intelligence; and secondly, the cowardice of the commander of the horse. The discovery of the ditch was the more alarming, because it threw a general doubt upon the information of the spies, and the night being dark, they could not ascertain that this was the only impediment of the kind they were to expect. The dispersion of the horse was still more fatal, inasmuch as it deranged the whole order of the plan, by which it had been concerted that their operations were to facilitate the attack made by the foot. If Lord Grey had possessed a spirit more suitable to his birth and name, to the illustrious friendship with which he had been honoured, and to the command with which he was intrusted, he would doubtless have persevered till he found a passage into the enemy's camp, which could have been effected at a ford not far distant. The loss of time occasioned by the ditch might not have been very material, and the most important consequences might have ensued; but it would surely be rashness to assert, as Hume does, that the army would, after all, have gained the victory, had not the misconduct of Monmouth and the cowardice of Grey prevented it. This rash judgment is the more to be admired at, as the historian has not pointed out the instance of misconduct to which he refers. Monmouth, with his suite, first directed his course towards the Bristol Channel, and, as is related by Oldmixon, was once inclined, at the suggestion of Dr. Oliver, a faithful and honest adviser, to embark for the coast of Wales, with a view of concealing himself for some time in that principality. Lord Grey, who appears to have been in all instances his evil genius, dissuaded him from this plan, and the small party having separated, took each several ways. Monmouth, Grey, and a gentleman of Brandenburg, went southward, with a view to gain the New Forest in Hampshire, where, by means of Grey's connections in that district, and thorough knowledge of the country, it was hoped they might be in safety, till a vessel could be procured to transport them to the Continent. They left their horses, and disguised themselves as peasants; but the pursuit, stimulated as well by party zeal as by the great pecuniary rewards offered for the capture of Monmouth and Grey, was too vigilant to be eluded. Grey was taken on the 7th, in the evening: and the German, who shared the same fate early on the next morning, confessed that he had parted from Monmouth but a few hours since. The neighbouring country was immediately and thoroughly searched, and James had ere night the satisfaction of learning that his nephew Fox wrote mainly in refutation of Hume, and his zeal sometimes betrays him. Surely there is no greater mis conduct conceivable in a general than to run away, as Monmouth did, in the middle of a battle. was in his power. The unfortunate Duke was discovered in a ditch, half-concealed by fern and nettles. His stock of provision, which consisted of some peas, gathered in the fields through which he had fled, was nearly exhausted, and there is reason to think that he had little if any other sustenance since he left Bridgewater on the evening of the 5th. To repose he had been equally a stranger; how his mind must have been harassed it is needless to discuss. 195. Robert Fergusson, 1750-1774. (Handbook, par. 208.) A great favourite of Burns. What makes auld Reekie's dames so fair? It canna be the halesome air; But cauler burn, beyond compare, That gars them a' sic graces skaira On Mayday, in a fairy ring, We've seen them roun' Saint Anthon's spring, To weet their e'en, An' water, clear as crystal spring, To synd them clean. Out of fifteen stanzas. 196. John Philpot Curran, 1750-1817. Emancipation. This paper, gentlemen, insists upon the necessity of emancirating the Catholics of Ireland, and that is charged as part of the libel. If they had waited another year, if they had kept this prosecution impending for another year, how much would remain for a jury to decide upon, I should be at a loss to discover. It seems as if the progress of public information was eating away the ground of the prosecution. Since the commencement of the prosecution, this part of the libel has unluckily received the sanction of the legislature. In that interval our Catholic brethren have obtained that admission, which it seems it was a libel to propose; in what way to account for this I am really at a loss Have any alarms been occasioned by the emancipation of our Catholic brethen? has the bigoted malignity of any individuals been crushed? or has the stability of the government, or that of the country been weakened; or is one million of subjects stronger than four millions? Do you think that the benefit they received should be poisoned by the sting of vengeance? If you think so, you must say to them, 'You have demanded emancipation, and you have got it; but we abhor your persons, we are outraged at your success, and we will stigmatize by a criminal prosecution the adviser of that relief which you have obtained from the voice of your country.' I ask you, do you think, as honest men, anxious for the public tranquillity, conscious that there are wounds not yet completely cicatrized, that you ought to speak this language at this time, to men who are too much disposed to think that in this very emancipation they have been saved from their own parliament by the humanity of their sovereign? Or do you wish to prepare them for the revocation of these improvident concessions? Do you think it wise or humane at this moment to insult them, by sticking up in a pillory the man who dared to stand forth as their advocate? I put it to your oaths; do you think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory obtained by justice over bigotry and oppression, should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignominious sentence upon men bold and honest enough to propose that measure? to propose the redeeming of religion from the abuses of the church, the reclaiming of three millions of men from bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a right to demand it; giving, I say, in the so much censured words of this paper, giving 'UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION!' I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty commensurate with and inseparable from British soil; which proclaims even to the stranger and sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION. No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced; no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun may have burnt upon him; no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down; no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery; the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains, that burst from around him; and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of UNIVERSAL EMANSpeech at the Trial of A. H. Rowan. CIPATION. 197. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 1751-1816. (Handbook, pars. 283, 285.) Warren Hastings. I recollect to have heard it advanced by some of those admirers of Mr. Hastings, who were not so implicit as to give unqualified applause to his crimes, that they found an apology for the atrocity of them in the greatness of his mind. To estimate the solidity of such a defence, it would be sufficient merely to consider in what consisted this prepossessing distinction, this captivating characteristic of greatness of mind. Is it not solely to be traced in great actions directed to great ends? In them, and them alone, we are to search for true estimable magnanimity. To them only can we justly affix the splendid title and honours of real greatness. There is indeed another species of greatness, which displays itself in boldly conceiving a bad measure, and undauntedly pursuing it to its accomplishment. But had Mr. Hastings the merit of exhibiting either of these descriptions of greatness-even of the latter? I see nothing great-nothing magnanimous-nothing open-nothing direct in his measures, or in his mind; on the contrary, he has too often pursued the worst objects by the worst His course was an eternal deviation from rectitude. He either tyrannised or deceived; and was by turns a Dionysius and a Scapin. As well might the writhing obliquity of the serpent be compared to the swift directness of the arrow, as the duplicity of Mr. Hastings's ambition to the simple steadiness of genuine magnanimity. In his mind all was shuffling, ambiguous, dark, insidious, and little; nothing simple, nothing unmixed: all means. |