Our negotiations, treaties, proposals, and concessions, not only afforded them leisure to collect their forces, equip their fleets, and fortify their coasts; but gave them, likewise, spirit to resist those who could not be conquered but by their own cowardice and folly. By our ill-timed patience, and lingering preparations, we encouraged those to unite against us, who would, otherwise, have only hated us in secret; and deterred those from declaring in our favour, whom interest or gratitude might have inclined to assist us. For who will support those from whom no mutual support can be expected? And who will expect that those will defend their allies, who desert themselves?
But, sir, however late our resentment was awakened, had the war been prosecuted vigorously after it was declared, we might have been now secure from danger, and freed from suspense, nor would any thing have remained but to give laws to our enemies.
From the success of Vernon with so inconsiderable forces, we may conjecture what would have been performed with an armament proportioned to his undertaking; and why he was not better supplied, no reason has yet been given; nor can it be easily discovered why we either did not begin the war before our enemies had concerted their measures, or delay it till we had formed our own.
Notwithstanding some opportunities have been neglected, and all the advantages of a sudden attack have been irrecoverably lost; notwithstanding our friends, sir, have learned to despise and neglect us, and our enemies are animated to confidence and obstinacy, yet our real and intrinsick strength continues the same; nor are there yet any preparations made against us by the enemy, with views beyond their own security and defence. It does not yet appear, sir, that our enemies, however insolent, look upon us as the proper objects of a conquest, or that they imagine it possible to besiege us in our own ports, or to confine us to the defence of our own country. We are not, therefore, to have recourse to measures, which, if they are ever to be admitted, can be justified by nothing but the utmost distress, and can only become proper, as the last and desperate expedient. The enemy, sir, ought to appear not only in our seas, but in our ports, before it can be necessary that one part of the nation should be enslaved for the preservation of the rest.
To destroy any part of the community, while it is in our power to preserve the whole, is certainly absurd, and inconsistent with the equity and tenderness of a good government: and what is slavery less than destruction? What greater calamity has that man to expect, who has been already deprived of his liberty, and reduced to a level with thieves and murderers? With what spirit, sir, will he draw his sword upon his invaders, who has nothing to defend? Or why should he repel the injuries which will make no addition to his misery, and will fall only on those to whom he is enslaved?