SPEECH AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS.

HAD a stranger, at this time, gone into the province of Oude, ignorant of what had happened since the death of Sujah Dowla-that man who, with a savage heart, had still great lines of character; and who, with all his ferocity in war, had still, with a cultivating hand, preserved to his country the riches which it derived from benignant skies and a prolific soil-if this stranger, ignorant of all that had happened in the short interval, and observing the wide and general devastation, and all the horrors of the scene of plains unclothed and brown- of vegetables burned up and extinguished-of villages depopulated and in ruins of temples unroofed and perishing-of reservoirs broken down and dry,-he would naturally inquire, what war has thus laid waste the fertile fields of this once beautiful and opulent country? What civil dissensions have happened thus to tear asunder and separate the happy societies that once possessed those villages? What disputed succession-what religious rage has, with unholy violence, demolished those temples, and disturbed fervent but unobtruding piety, in the exercise of its duties? What merciless enemy has thus spread the horrors of fire and sword? What severe visitation of Providence has dried up the fountain, and taken from the face of the earth every vestige of verdure? Or, rather, what monsters have stalked over the country, tainting and poisoning, with pestiferous breath, what the voracious appetite could not devour? To such questions, what must be the an swer? No wars have ravaged these lands, and depopulated these villages-no civil discords have been felt-no disputed succession-no religious rage-no merciless enemy -no affliction of Providence, which, while it scourged for the moment, cut off the sources of resuscitation—no voracious and poisoning monsters-no, all this has been accomplished by the friendship, generosity, and kindness of the English nation. They have embraced us with their protecting arms, and, lo! those are the fruits of their alliance. What, then, shall we be told that, under such circumstances, the exasperated feelings of a whole people

thus goaded and spurred on to clamour and resistance, were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the Begums? When we hear the description of the paroxysm, fever, delirium, into which despair had thrown the natives, when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, panting for death, they tore more widely open the lips of their gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution; and, while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly eyes to heaven; breathing their last and fervent prayer, that the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their blood, but that it might rise up to the throne of God, and rouse the eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country. Will it be said, that this was brought about by the incantations of these Begums in their secluded Zenana? or that they could inspire this enthusiasm and this despair into the breasts of a people who felt no grievance, and had suffered no torture? What motive, then, could have such influence in their bosom? What motive? That which nature, the common parent, plants in the bosom of man; and which, though it may be less active in the Indian than in the Englishman, is still congenial with, and makes part of his being-that feeling which tells him, that man was never made to be the property of man; but that, when, through pride and insolence of power, one human creature dares to tyrannise over another, it is a power usurped, and resistance is a duty-that feeling which tells him, that all power is delegated for the good, not for the injury of the people; and that, when it is converted from the original purpose, the compact is broken, and the right is to be resumed-that principle which tells him, that resistance to power usurped is not merely a duty which he owes to himself and to his neighbour, but a duty which he owes to his God, in asserting and maintaining the rank which he gave him in the creation! To that common God, who, where he gives the form of man, whatever may be the complexion, gives also the feelings and the rights of manthat principle which neither the rudeness of ignorance can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish-that principle, which makes it base for a man to suffer when h ought to act-which tending to preserve to the species th

original designations of Providence, spurns at the arrogant distinctions of man, and vindicates the independent quality of his race. SHERIDAN.

SPEECH OF LORD STRAFFORD,

BEFORE SENTENCE PASSED ON HIM BY THE LORDS

FOR TREASON.

MY LORDS, as this species of treason, of which I am accused by the Commons, is entirely new and unknown to the laws, so is the species of proof by which they pretend to fix that guilt upon me. They have invented a kind of accumulative or constructive evidence, by which many actions, either totally innocent in themselves, or criminal in a much inferior degree, shall, when united, amount to treason, and subject the person to the highest penalties inflicted by the laws. A hasty and unguarded word, a rash and passionate action, assisted by the malevolent fancy of the accuser, and tortured by doubtful constructions, is transmuted into the deepest guilt; and the lives and fortunes of the whole nation, no longer protected by justice, are subjected to arbitrary will and pleasure.

Where has this species of guilt lain so long concealed? Where has this fire been so long buried, during so many centuries, that no smoke should appear till it burst out at once to consume me and my children? Better it were to live under no law at all, and, by the maxims of a cautious prudence, to conform ourselves the best we can to the arbitrary will of a master, than fancy we have a law on which we can rely, and which shall inflict a punishment, precedent to the promulgation, and try us by maxims unheard of till the very moment of the prosecution. If I sail on the Thames, and split my vessel on an anchor, in case there be no buoy to give me warning, the party shall pay the damages; but if the anchor be marked out, then is the striking on it at my own peril. Where is the mark set upon this crime? It has lain concealed under water; and no human prudence, no human innocence, could save me from the destruction with which I am at present threatened.

It is now full two hundred and forty years since treasons were defined; and so long has it been since any man was touched to this extent, upon this crime, before myself. We have lived, my Lords, happily to ourselves at home; we have lived gloriously abroad to the world: let us be content with what our fathers have left us; let not our ambition carry us to be more learned than they were in these killing and destructive arts. To all my afflictions add not this, my Lords (the most severe of any), that I, for my other sins, not for my treasons, be the means of introducing a precedent so pernicious to the laws and liberties of my native country. However, these gentlemen at the bar say they speak for the commonwealth, and they believe so; yet, under favour, it is I, who, in this particular, speak for the commonwealth. Precedents, like those which are endeavoured to be established against me, must draw along such inconveniences and miseries, that in a few years the kingdom will be in a condition expressed in a statute of Henry the Fourth, and no man shall know by what rule to govern his words and actions.

My Lords, I have now troubled your Lordships a great deal longer than I should have done, were it not for the interest of these pledges, which a saint in heaven left me, I should be loth-What I forfeit for myself is nothingbut, I confess, that my indiscretion should forfeit for them—it wounds me very deeply. You will be pleased to pardon my infirmity: something I should have said, but I see I shall not be able, therefore I shall leave it.

And now, my Lords, I thank God, that I have been, by His blessing, sufficiently instructed in the extreme vanity of all temporary enjoyments, compared to the importance of our eternal duration. And so, my Lords, even so, with all humility and with all tranquillity of mind, I submit clearly and freely to your judgment; and whether that righteous judgment be to life or death, I shall repose myself, full of gratitude and confidence, in the arms of the Great Author of my existence.

SPEECH ON THE BREAKING OUT OF THE WAR OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE.

MR. PRESIDENT,-It is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that syren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern our temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past; and judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir, it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation, the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask, gentlemen-sir-what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, Sir, she has none. They are meant for us, they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try