Whether this clause, sir, has not sometimes been eluded, whether the six thousand Hessians, which we once supported, were of use to any of the British dominions, and whether a double number of the same nation, now paid with our money for the defence of the queen of Hungary, have not been stationed only where they might defend Hanover, without the least advantage to our confederates; whether the nation has not been condemned to double expenses in the support of this alliance, by raising, for the queen's service, troops, which were only employed in the protection of Hanover, and then in succouring her with pecuniary supplies, it is, perhaps, at present unnecessary, though, I hope, not yet too late, to inquire.

It is at present unnecessary, because the clause which is proposed cannot be denied to be equally proper, whether the act of settlement has been hitherto observed or violated; for the violation of it ought to engage us in some measures that may secure us for the future from the like injury; and the observation of it is a manifest proof how much it is approved by all parties, since, in so many deviations from this settlement, and an inconstancy of conduct of which an example is scarcely to be found, this law has been esteemed sacred, the bulwark of our rights, and the boundary which the sovereign power has not dared to overleap.

As his majesty, sir, has, in a very solemn manner, called upon us for our advice and assistance, what can be more proper than to lay before him our opinion on this important question? War is, next to slavery, one of the greatest calamities; and an unnecessary war, therefore, the greatest error of government, an error which cannot be too cautiously obviated, or too speedily reformed.

If we consider, sir, the present state of the continent, there is nothing more probable than that the subjects of the elector of Hanover may solicit the assistance of the emperor of Britain, and, therefore, it is necessary to inform them, that their solicitations will be vain. If we inquire into the suspicions of our fellow-subjects, we shall find them generally disturbed with fears that they shall be sacrificed to the security of foreign dominions, and, therefore, it is necessary to recall their affection to his majesty where it is impaired, and confirm their confidence where it has been hitherto preserved, by showing, in the most publick manner, how vainly they have been disquieted, and how grossly they have been mistaken.

It is certainly our duty, sir, to give such advice as may most truly inform his majesty of the sentiments of his people, and most effectually establish in the people an adherence to his majesty; as it is certain that no advice will be seconded by greater numbers than that which is proposed, nor can his majesty, by any act of goodness, so much endear his government, as by a ready promise to this nation of an exemption from any war in defence of Hanover.

I hope, sir, it will not be objected, that by such request a suspicion will be insinuated of designs detrimental to the British nation, and repugnant to the conditions on which his majesty ascended the throne, because an objection of equal force may rise against any advice whatever that shall be offered by the senate.

It may be always urged, sir, that to recommend any measures, is to suppose that they would not have been suggested to his majesty by his own wisdom, and, by consequence, that he is defective either in knowledge or in goodness, that he either mistakes or neglects the interest of his people.

Thus, sir, may the most laudable conduct be charged with sedition, and the most awful regard be accused of disrespect, by forced consequences, and exaggerated language; thus may senates become useless, lest they should appear to be wiser than their sovereign, and the sovereign be condemned to act only by the information of servile ministers, because no publick advice can safely be given him.

That kings must act upon the information of others, that they can see little with their own eyes through the mists which flattery is continually employed in raising before them, and that they are, therefore, most happy who have, by the constitution of the country which they govern, an opportunity of knowing the opinions of their people without disguise, has yet never been denied by any who do not separate the interest of the king from that of the people, and leave mankind no political distinction but that of tyrants and slaves.

This, sir, is the happiness of the emperour of Britain beyond other monarchs, an advantage by which he may be always enabled to contemplate the happy and flourishing state of his subjects, and to receive the blessings and acclamations of millions, that owe to his care their wealth and their security.

Of this advantage he cannot be deprived, but by the cowardice or the treachery of those men who are delegated by the people, as the guardians of their liberties; and surely it requires no uncommon penetration to discover, that no act of treason can be equal in malignity to that perfidy which deprives the king of the affections of his subjects, by concealing from him their sentiments and petitions. He that makes his monarch hated, must, undoubtedly, make him unhappy; and he that destroys his happiness, might more innocently take away his life.

To exempt myself, therefore, from such guilt, to discharge the trust conferred on me by my country, and to perform the duty which I owe to my king, I stand up to second this motion.

Mr. GYBBON spoke next, to the following purpose:—Sir, as it is not easy to remember all the parts of an address by only once hearing it, and hearing it in a form different from that in which it is to be presented, I think it necessary to a more accurate consideration of it, that it should be read distinctly to the house. We may otherwise waste our time in debates, to which only our own forgetfulness gives occasion; we may raise objections without reason, and propose amendments where there is no defect. [The address was accordingly read, and Mr. GYBBON proceeded.]

Having now heard the address, I find by experience the propriety of my proposal; having remarked a clause, which, in my opinion, is necessary to be amended, and which I had not observed when it was repeated before.

It is well known, that the speeches from the throne, though pronounced by the king, are always considered as the compositions of the ministry, upon whom any false assertions would be charged, as the informers and counsellors of the crown.

It is well known, likewise, that whenever this house returns thanks to the king for any measures that have been pursued, those measures are supposed to be approved by them; and that approbation may be pleaded by the minister in his defence, whenever he shall be required to answer for the event of his counsels.

It is, therefore, in my opinion, extremely unreasonable to propose, that thanks should be returned to his majesty for his royal care in prosecuting the war against Spain; for what has been the consequence of that care, for which our thanks are to be, with so much solemnity, returned, but defeats, disgrace, and losses, the ruin of our merchants, the imprisonment of our sailors, idle shows of armaments, and useless expenses?

What are the events which are to be recorded in an impartial account of this war; a war provoked by so long a train of insults and injuries, and carried on with so apparent an inequality of forces? Have we destroyed the fleets of our enemies, fired their towns, and laid their fortresses in ruins? Have we conquered their colonies, and plundered their cities, and reduced them to a necessity of receding from their unjust claims, and repaying the plunder of our merchants? Are their ambassadors now soliciting peace at the court of Britain, or applying to the neighbouring princes to moderate the resentment of their victorious enemies?

I am afraid that the effects of our preparations, however formidable, are very different; they have only raised discontent among our countrymen, and contempt among our enemies. We have shown that we are strong indeed, but that our force is made ineffectual by our cowardice; that when we threaten most loudly, we perform nothing; that we draw our swords but to brandish them, and only wait an opportunity to sheath them in such a manner, as not plainly to confess that we dare not strike.

If we consider, therefore, what effect our thanks for conduct like this must naturally produce, it will appear that they can only encourage our enemies, and dispirit our fellow-subjects. It will be imagined that the Spaniards are a powerful nation, which it was the highest degree of temerity to attack; a nation by whom it is honour sufficient not to be overcome, and from whom we cannot be defended without the most vigilant caution, and the most extensive knowledge both of politicks and war.

It will readily be perceived by the proud Spaniards, that it is only necessary to prosecute their views a little longer, to intimidate us with new demands, and amuse us with new preparations; and that we, who are always satisfied with our success, shall soon be weary of a war from which it is plain that we never expected any advantage, and therefore shall, in a short time, willingly receive such terms as our conquerors will grant us.

It is always to be remembered, how much all human affairs depend upon opinion, how often reputation supplies the want of real power, by making those afraid who cannot be hurt, and by producing confidence where there is no superiority. The opinion of which the senate ought to endeavour the promotion, is confidence in their steadiness, honesty, and wisdom. Confidence which will not be much advanced by an address of thanks for the conduct of the war against Spain.

How justly may it be asked, when this address is spread over the world, what were the views with which the senate of Britain petitioned their sovereign to declare war against Spain?

If their design was, as they then asserted, to procure security for the commerce of America, and reparation for the injuries which their merchants had received, by what fluctuation of counsels, by what prevalence of new opinions, have they now abandoned it? For that they have no longer the same intentions, that they now no more either propose security, or demand recompense, is evident; since though they have obtained neither, yet are they thankful for the conduct of the war.

To what can this apparent instability be imputed, but to the want either of wisdom to balance their own power with that of their enemies, and discern the true interest of their country, or to a mean compliance with the clamours of the people, to whom they durst not refuse the appearance of a war, though they had no expectation of honour or success?

But in far other terms, sir, will the Spaniards speak of the address which is now proposed. "Behold, say our boasting enemies, the spirit and wisdom of that assembly, whose counsels hold the continent in suspense, and whose determinations change the fate of kingdoms; whose vote transfers sovereignty, covers the ocean with fleets, prescribes the operation of distant wars, and fixes the balance of the world. Behold them amused with idle preparations, levying money for mockeries of war, and returning thanks for the pleasure of the show. Behold them looking with wonderful tranquillity on the loss of a great number of their ships, which have been seized upon their own coasts by our privateers, and congratulating themselves and their monarch that any have been preserved. How great would have been the exultation, and how loud the applauses, had they succeeded in any of their designs; had they obstructed the departure of our fleets, or hindered our descent upon the dominions of the queen of Hungary; had they confined our privateers in our harbours, defeated any of our troops, or overrun any of our colonies! In what terms would they have expressed their gratitude for victory, who are thus thankful for disappointments and disgrace?"

Such, sir, must be the remarks of our enemies upon an address like that which is now proposed; remarks which we and our allies must be condemned to hear, without attempting a reply. For what can be urged to extenuate the ridicule of returning thanks where we ought either to express resentment, offer consolations, and propose the means of better success, or cover our grief and shame with perpetual silence?

When it shall be told in foreign nations, that the senate of Britain had returned thanks for the escape of the Spaniards from Ferrol, their uninterrupted expedition to Italy, the embarrassment of their own trade, the captivity of their sailors, and the destruction of their troops, what can they conclude, but that the senate of Britain is a collection of madmen, whom madmen have deputed to transact the publick affairs? And what must be the influence of such a people, and such a senate, will be easily conceived.

If I have given way, sir, in these observations, to any wanton hyperbole, or exaggerated assertions, they will, I hope, be pardoned by those who shall reflect upon the real absurdity of the proposal, which I am endeavouring to show in its true state, and by all who shall consider, that to return thanks for the management of the war, is to return thanks for the carnage of Carthagena, for the ruin of our merchants, for the loss of our reputation, and for the exaltation of the family of Bourbon.

I hope no man will be so unjust, or can be so ignorant, as to insinuate or believe, that I impute any part of our miscarriages to the personal conduct of his majesty, or that I think his majesty's concern for the prosperity of his people unworthy of the warmest and sincerest gratitude. If the address were confined to the inspection of our sovereign alone, I should be very far from censuring or ridiculing it; for his majesty has not the event of war in his power, nor can confer upon his ministers or generals that knowledge which they have neglected to acquire, or that capacity which nature has denied them. He may perform more than we have a right to expect, and yet be unsuccessful; he may deserve the utmost gratitude, even when, by the misconduct of his servants, the nation is distressed.

But, sir, in drawing up an address, we should remember that we are declaring our sentiments not only to his majesty, but to all Europe; to our allies, our enemies, and our posterity; that this address will be understood, like all others; that thanks offered in this manner, by custom, signify approbation; and that, therefore, we must at present repress our gratitude, because it can only bring into contempt our sovereign and ourselves.

Sir Robert WALPOLE spoke next, to this effect:—Sir, I am very far from thinking that the war against Spain has been so unsuccessful as some gentlemen have represented it; that the losses which we have suffered have been more frequent than we had reason to expect from the situation of our enemies, and the course of our trade; or our defeats, such as the common chance of war does not often produce, even when the inequality of the contending powers is incontestable, and the ultimate event as near to certainty, as the nature of human affairs ever can admit.

Nor am I convinced, sir, even though it should be allowed that no exaggeration had been made of our miscarriages, that the impropriety of an address of thanks to his majesty for his regal care in the management of the war, is gross or flagrant. For if it be allowed that his majesty may be innocent of all the misconduct that has produced our defeats, that he may have formed schemes wisely, which were unskilfully prosecuted; that even valour and knowledge concurring, will not always obtain success; and that, therefore, some losses may be suffered, and some defeats received, though not only his majesty gave the wisest direction, but his officers executed them with the utmost diligence and fidelity; how will it appear from our ill success, that our sovereign does not deserve our gratitude? And if it shall appear to us that our thanks are merited, who shall restrain us from offering them in the most publick and solemn manner?

For my part, I think no consideration worthy of regard in competition with truth and justice, and, therefore, shall never forbear any expression of duty to my sovereign, for fear of the ridicule of our secret, or the reproaches of our publick enemies.