least as exceptionable as the end. Permit me to open myself a little
upon this subject; because it is of importance to me, when I am obliged
to submit to the power without acquiescing in the reason of an act of
legislature, that I should justify my dissent by such arguments as may
be supposed to have weight with a sober man.
The main operative regulation of the act is to suspend the Common Law
and the statute _Habeas Corpus_ (the sole securities either for liberty
or justice) with regard to all those who have been out of the realm, or
on the high seas, within a given time. The rest of the people, as I
understand, are to continue as they stood before.
I confess, Gentlemen, that this appears to me as bad in the principle,
and far worse in its consequence, than an universal suspension of the
_Habeas Corpus_ Act; and the limiting qualification, instead of taking
out the sting, does in my humble opinion sharpen and envenom it to a
greater degree. Liberty, if I understand it at all, is a _general_
principle, and the clear right of all the subjects within the realm, or
of none. Partial freedom seems to me a most invidious mode of slavery.
But, unfortunately, it is the kind of slavery the most easily admitted
in times of civil discord: for parties are but too apt to forget their
own future safety in their desire of sacrificing their enemies. People
without much difficulty admit the entrance of that injustice of which
they are not to be the immediate victims. In times of high proceeding it
is never the faction of the predominant power that is in danger: for no
tyranny chastises its own instruments. It is the obnoxious and the
suspected who want the protection of law; and there is nothing to bridle
the partial violence of state factions but this,--"that, whenever an act
is made for a cessation of law and justice, the whole people should be
universally subjected to the same suspension of their franchises." The
alarm of such a proceeding would then be universal. It would operate as
a sort of _call of the nation_. It would become every man's immediate
and instant concern to be made very sensible of _the absolute necessity_
of this total eclipse of liberty. They would more carefully advert to
every renewal, and more powerfully resist it. These great determined
measures are not commonly so dangerous to freedom. They are marked with
too strong lines to slide into use. No plea, nor pretence, of
_inconvenience or evil example_ (which must in their nature be daily
and ordinary incidents) can be admitted as a reason for such mighty
operations. But the true danger is when liberty is nibbled away, for
expedients, and by parts. The _Habeas Corpus_ Act supposes, contrary to
the genius of most other laws, that the lawful magistrate may see
particular men with a malignant eye, and it provides for that identical
case. But when men, in particular descriptions, marked out by the
magistrate himself, are delivered over by Parliament to this possible
malignity, it is not the _Habeas Corpus_ that is occasionally suspended,
but its spirit that is mistaken, and its principle that is subverted.
Indeed, nothing is security to any individual but the common interest of
all.
This act, therefore, has this distinguished evil in it, that it is the
first _partial_ suspension of the _Habeas Corpus_ that has been made.
The precedent, which is always of very great importance, is now
established. For the first time a distinction is made among the people
within this realm. Before this act, every man putting his foot on
English ground, every stranger owing only a local and temporary
allegiance, even negro slaves who had been sold in the colonies and
under an act of Parliament, became as free as every other man who
breathed the same air with them. Now a line is drawn, which may be
advanced further and further at pleasure, on the same argument of mere
expedience on which it was first described. There is no equality among
us; we are not fellow-citizens, if the mariner who lands on the quay
does not rest on as firm legal ground as the merchant who sits in his
counting-house. Other laws may injure the community; this dissolves it.
As things now stand, every man in the West Indies, every one inhabitant
of three unoffending provinces on the continent, every person coming
from the East Indies, every gentleman who has travelled for his health
or education, every mariner who has navigated the seas, is, for no other
offence, under a temporary proscription. Let any of these facts (now
become presumptions of guilt) be proved against him, and the bare
suspicion of the crown puts him out of the law. It is even by no means
clear to me whether the negative proof does not lie upon the person
apprehended on suspicion, to the subversion of all justice.
I have not debated against this bill in its progress through the House;
because it would have been vain to oppose, and impossible to correct it.
It is some time since I have been clearly convinced, that, in the
present state of things, all opposition to any measures proposed by
ministers, where the name of America appears, is vain and frivolous. You
may be sure that I do not speak of my opposition, which in all
circumstances must be so, but that of men of the greatest wisdom and
authority in the nation. Everything proposed against America is supposed
of course to be in favor of Great Britain. Good and ill success are
equally admitted as reasons for persevering in the present methods.
Several very prudent and very well-intentioned persons were of opinion,
that, during the prevalence of such dispositions, all struggle rather
inflamed than lessened the distemper of the public counsels. Finding
such resistance to be considered as factious by most within doors and by
very many without, I cannot conscientiously support what is against my
opinion, nor prudently contend with what I know is irresistible.
Preserving my principles unshaken, I reserve my activity for rational
endeavors; and I hope that my past conduct has given sufficient
evidence, that, if I am a single day from my place, it is not owing to
indolence or love of dissipation. The slightest hope of doing good is
sufficient to recall me to what I quitted with regret In declining for
some time my usual strict attendance, I do not in the least condemn the
spirit of those gentlemen who, with a just confidence in their
abilities, (in which I claim a sort of share from my love and admiration
of them,) were of opinion that their exertions in this desperate case
might be of some service. They thought that by contracting the sphere of
its application they might lessen the malignity of an evil principle.
Perhaps they were in the right. But when my opinion was so very clearly
to the contrary, for the reasons I have just stated, I am sure _my_
attendance would have been ridiculous.
I must add, in further explanation of _my_ conduct, that, far from
softening the features of such a principle, and thereby removing any
part of the popular odium or natural terrors attending it, I should be
sorry that anything framed in contradiction to the spirit of our
Constitution did not instantly produce, in fact, the grossest of the
evils with which it was pregnant in its nature. It is by lying dormant a
long time, or being at first very rarely exercised, that arbitrary power
steals upon a people. On the next unconstitutional act, all the
fashionable world will be ready to say, "Your prophecies are ridiculous,
your fears are vain, you see how little of the mischiefs which you
formerly foreboded are come to pass." Thus, by degrees, that artful
softening of all arbitrary power, the alleged infrequency or narrow
extent of its operation, will be received as a sort of aphorism,--and
Mr. Hume will not be singular in telling us, that the felicity of
mankind is no more disturbed by it than by earthquakes or thunder, or
the other more unusual accidents of Nature.
The act of which I speak is among the fruits of the American war,--a war
in my humble opinion productive of many mischiefs, of a kind which
distinguish it from all others. Not only our policy is deranged, and our
empire distracted, but our laws and our legislative spirit appear to
have been totally perverted by it. We have made war on our colonies, not
by arms only, but by laws. As hostility and law are not very concordant
ideas, every step we have taken in this business has been made by
trampling on some maxim of justice or some capital principle of wise
government. What precedents were established, and what principles
overturned, (I will not say of English privilege, but of general
justice,) in the Boston Port, the Massachusetts Charter, the Military
Bill, and all that long array of hostile acts of Parliament by which the
war with America has been begun and supported! Had the principles of any
of these acts been first exerted on English ground, they would probably
have expired as soon as they touched it. But by being removed from our
persons, they have rooted in our laws, and the latest posterity will
taste the fruits of them.
Nor is it the worst effect of this unnatural contention, that our _laws_
are corrupted. Whilst _manners_ remain entire, they will correct the
vices of law, and soften it at length to their own temper. But we have
to lament that in most of the late proceedings we see very few traces of
that generosity, humanity, and dignity of mind, which formerly
characterized this nation. War suspends the rules of moral obligation,
and what is long suspended is in danger of being totally abrogated.
Civil wars strike deepest of all into the manners of the people. They
vitiate their politics; they corrupt their morals; they pervert even the
natural taste and relish of equity and justice. By teaching us to
consider our fellow-citizens in an hostile light, the whole body of our
nation becomes gradually less dear to us. The very names of affection
and kindred, which were the bond of charity whilst we agreed, become new
incentives to hatred and rage when the communion of our country is
dissolved. We may flatter ourselves that we shall not fall into this
misfortune. But we have no charter of exemption, that I know of, from
the ordinary frailties of our nature.
What but that blindness of heart which arises from the frenzy of civil
contention could have made any persons conceive the present situation of
the British affairs as an object of triumph to themselves or of
congratulation to their sovereign? Nothing surely could be more
lamentable to those who remember the flourishing days of this kingdom
than to see the insane joy of several unhappy people, amidst the sad
spectacle which our affairs and conduct exhibit to the scorn of Europe.
We behold (and it seems some people rejoice in beholding) our native
land, which used to sit the envied arbiter of all her neighbors, reduced
to a servile dependence on their mercy,--acquiescing in assurances of
friendship which she does not trust,--complaining of hostilities which
she dares not resent,--deficient to her allies, lofty to her subjects,
and submissive to her enemies,--whilst the liberal government of this
free nation is supported by the hireling sword of German boors and
vassals, and three millions of the subjects of Great Britain are seeking
for protection to English privileges in the arms of France!
These circumstances appear to me more like shocking prodigies than
natural changes in human affairs. Men of firmer minds may see them
without staggering or astonishment. Some may think them matters of
congratulation and complimentary addresses; but I trust your candor will
be so indulgent to my weakness as not to have the worse opinion of me
for my declining to participate in this joy, and my rejecting all share
whatsoever in such a triumph. I am too old, too stiff in my inveterate
partialities, to be ready at all the fashionable evolutions of opinion.
I scarcely know how to adapt my mind to the feelings with which the
Court Gazettes mean to impress the people. It is not instantly that I
can be brought to rejoice, when I hear of the slaughter and captivity of
long lists of those names which have been familiar to my ears from my
infancy, and to rejoice that they have fallen under the sword of
strangers, whose barbarous appellations I scarcely know how to
pronounce. The glory acquired at the White Plains by Colonel Rahl has no
charms for me, and I fairly acknowledge that I have not yet learned to
delight in finding Fort Kniphausen in the heart of the British
dominions.
It might be some consolation for the loss of our old regards, if our
reason were enlightened in proportion as our honest prejudices are
removed. Wanting feelings for the honor of our country, we might then in
cold blood be brought to think a little of our interests as individual
citizens and our private conscience as moral agents.
Indeed, our affairs are in a bad condition. I do assure those gentlemen
who have prayed for war, and obtained the blessing they have sought,
that they are at this instant in very great straits. The abused wealth
of this country continues a little longer to feed its distemper. As yet
they, and their German allies of twenty hireling states, have contended
only with the unprepared strength of our own infant colonies. But
America is not subdued. Not one unattacked village which was originally
adverse throughout that vast continent has yet submitted from love or
terror. You have the ground you encamp on, and you have no more. The
cantonments of your troops and your dominions are exactly of the same
extent. You spread devastation, but you do not enlarge the sphere of
authority.
The events of this war are of so much greater magnitude than those who
either wished or feared it ever looked for, that this alone ought to
fill every considerate mind with anxiety and diffidence. Wise men often
tremble at the very things which fill the thoughtless with security. For
many reasons I do not choose to expose to public view all the
particulars of the state in which you stood with regard to foreign
powers during the whole course of the last year. Whether you are yet
wholly out of danger from them is more than I know, or than your rulers
can divine. But even if I were certain of my safety, I could not easily
forgive those who had brought me into the most dreadful perils, because
by accidents, unforeseen by them or me, I have escaped.
Believe me, Gentlemen, the way still before you is intricate, dark, and
full of perplexed and treacherous mazes. Those who think they have the
clew may lead us out of this labyrinth. We may trust them as amply as we
think proper; but as they have most certainly a call for all the reason
which their stock can furnish, why should we think it proper to disturb
its operation by inflaming their passions? I may be unable to lend an
helping hand to those who direct the state; but I should be ashamed to
make myself one of a noisy multitude to halloo and hearten them into
doubtful and dangerous courses. A conscientious man would be cautious
how he dealt in blood. He would feel some apprehension at being called
to a tremendous account for engaging in so deep a play without any sort
of knowledge of the game. It is no excuse for presumptuous ignorance,
that it is directed by insolent passion. The poorest being that crawls
on earth, contending to save itself from injustice and oppression, is an
object respectable in the eyes of God and man. But I cannot conceive any
existence under heaven (which in the depths of its wisdom tolerates all
sorts of things) that is more truly odious and disgusting than an
impotent, helpless creature, without civil wisdom or military skill,
without a consciousness of any other qualification for power but his
servility to it, bloated with pride and arrogance, calling for battles
which he is not to fight, contending for a violent dominion which he can
never exercise, and satisfied to be himself mean and miserable, in order
to render others contemptible and wretched.
If you and I find our talents not of the great and ruling kind, our
conduct, at least, is conformable to our faculties. No man's life pays
the forfeit of our rashness. No desolate widow weeps tears of blood
over our ignorance. Scrupulous and sober in a well-grounded distrust of
ourselves, we would keep in the port of peace and security; and perhaps
in recommending to others something of the same diffidence, we should
show ourselves more charitable to their welfare than injurious to their
abilities.
There are many circumstances in the zeal shown for civil war which seem
to discover but little of real magnanimity. The addressers offer their
own persons, and they are satisfied with hiring Germans. They promise
their private fortunes, and they mortgage their country. They have all
the merit of volunteers, without risk of person or charge of
contribution; and when the unfeeling arm of a foreign soldiery pours out
their kindred blood like water, they exult and triumph as if they
themselves had performed some notable exploit. I am really ashamed of
the fashionable language which has been held for some time past, which,
to say the best of it, is full of levity. You know that I allude to the
general cry against the cowardice of the Americans, as if we despised
them for not making the king's soldiery purchase the advantage they have
obtained at a dearer rate. It is not, Gentlemen, it is not to respect
the dispensations of Providence, nor to provide any decent retreat in
the mutability of human affairs. It leaves no medium between insolent
victory and infamous defeat. It tends to alienate our minds further and
further from our natural regards, and to make an eternal rent and schism
in the British nation. Those who do not wish for such a separation would
not dissolve that cement of reciprocal esteem and regard which can alone
bind together the parts of this great fabric. It ought to be our wish,
as it is our duty, not only to forbear this style of outrage ourselves,
but to make every one as sensible as we can of the impropriety and
unworthiness of the tempers which give rise to it, and which designing
men are laboring with such malignant industry to diffuse amongst us. It
is our business to counteract them, if possible,--if possible, to awake
our natural regards, and to revive the old partiality to the English
name. Without something of this kind I do not see how it is ever
practicable really to reconcile with those whose affection, after all,
must be the surest hold of our government, and which is a thousand times
more worth to us than the mercenary zeal of all the circles of Germany.
I can well conceive a country completely overrun, and miserably wasted,
without approaching in the least to settlement. In my apprehension, as
long as English government is attempted to be supported over Englishmen
by the sword alone, things will thus continue. I anticipate in my mind
the moment of the final triumph of foreign military force. When that
hour arrives, (for it may arrive,) then it is that all this mass of
weakness and violence will appear in its full light. If we should be
expelled from America, the delusion of the partisans of military
government might still continue. They might still feed their
imaginations with the possible good consequences which might have
attended success. Nobody could prove the contrary by facts. But in case
the sword should do all that the sword can do, the success of their arms
and the defeat of their policy will be one and the same thing. You will
never see any revenue from America. Some increase of the means of
corruption, without ease of the public burdens, is the very best that
can happen. Is it for this that we are at war,--and in such a war?
As to the difficulties of laying once more the foundations of that
government which, for the sake of conquering what was our own, has been
voluntarily and wantonly pulled down by a court faction here, I tremble
to look at them. Has any of these gentlemen who are so eager to govern
all mankind shown himself possessed of the first qualification towards
government, some knowledge of the object, and of the difficulties which
occur in the task they have undertaken?
I assure you, that, on the most prosperous issue of your arms, you will
not be where you stood when you called in war to supply the defects of
your political establishment. Nor would any disorder or disobedience to
government which could arise from the most abject concession on our part
ever equal those which will be felt after the most triumphant violence.
You have got all the intermediate evils of war into the bargain.
I think I know America,--if I do not, my ignorance is incurable, for I
have spared no pains to understand it,--and I do most solemnly assure
those of my constituents who put any sort of confidence in my industry
and integrity, that everything that has been done there has arisen from
a total misconception of the object: that our means of originally
holding America, that our means of reconciling with it after quarrel, of
recovering it after separation, of keeping it after victory, did depend,
and must depend, in their several stages and periods, upon a total
renunciation of that unconditional submission which has taken such
possession of the minds of violent men. The whole of those maxims upon
which we have made and continued this war must be abandoned. Nothing,
indeed, (for I would not deceive you,) can place us in our former
situation. That hope must be laid aside. But there is a difference
between bad and the worst of all. Terms relative to the cause of the war
ought to be offered by the authority of Parliament. An arrangement at
home promising some security for them ought to be made. By doing this,
without the least impairing of our strength, we add to the credit of our
moderation, which, in itself, is always strength more or less.
I know many have been taught to think that moderation in a case like
this is a sort of treason,--and that all arguments for it are
sufficiently answered by railing at rebels and rebellion, and by
charging all the present or future miseries which we may suffer on the
resistance of our brethren. But I would wish them, in this grave matter,
and if peace is not wholly removed from their hearts, to consider
seriously, first, that to criminate and recriminate never yet was the
road to reconciliation, in any difference amongst men. In the next
place, it would be right to reflect that the American English (whom they
may abuse, if they think it honorable to revile the absent) can, as
things now stand, neither be provoked at our railing or bettered by our
instruction. All communication is cut off between us. But this we know
with certainty, that, though we cannot reclaim them, we may reform
ourselves. If measures of peace are necessary, they must begin
somewhere; and a conciliatory temper must precede and prepare every plan
of reconciliation. Nor do I conceive that we suffer anything by thus
regulating our own minds. We are not disarmed by being disencumbered of
our passions. Declaiming on rebellion never added a bayonet or a charge
of powder to your military force; but I am afraid that it has been the
means of taking up many muskets against you.