Doke's excellent administration, he had no scruple in declaring, that in his estimation of his merits in that department, he stood much higher at the close than he did at the beginning of the inquiry; and he should certainly s feel great regret if, in compliance with the popular opi-› nion, founded as he was convinced it was upon misre presentation and mistake, it should be found expedient,' as a right honourable gentleman (Mr. Windham) had suggested, that for the benefit of the public, the public should be deprived of the benefit of his service..

Sir Thomas Turton began by assuring the House that after all which had been said upon this subject, he would as briefly as possible trespass on their patience. He ad verted to the absolute impropriety of passing sentence upon any man in the land, no matter what his rank, at least without the formality of an oath. This, he said," was the opinion of Mr. Justice Blackstone, whom he quoted in support of his assertion. In the Roman senate an oath was even required from Cato, whose probity was proverbial. By voting the address proposed, he thought the Duke of York would be degraded, and deprived of that which every British subject had a right to demand, an impartial and solemn hearing this was not denied to Lord Somers, or Lord Melville, and why should it be refused to his Royal Highness? The very lamp-lighter who attended their hall would not be refused it; surely the dignity of rank would not be held out as an argument for refusing to is the privileges of the most humble. The letter, then, of the Duke of York, only demanding this privilege on the immutable and eternal grounds of justice, must be considered as equitable and praiseworthy. The amendment of the honourable gentleman refusing this privilege, was only a gilded dagger, whose beauty could not conceal or counteract its venom. He went to do by insinuation that which it would be much more noble to do by open means. Here he could not help paying a com pliment to the eloquence of the noble lord (Lord Folke stone), who had traversed with him over the plains of Hindostan, but still he was surprized how he could pos sibly support the original address.-He here drew a dis tinction between neglect and corruption.-Neglect might have taken place, and i was not to be wondered at in so extensive an establishment as the military one of this country; that it, he thought, might be deserving of some

pardon. It would be but fair to tell the country at once, whethe Duke was guilty of corruption, or guilty of neglect, or whether the desire was to get him out of office. (Hear, hear!) As to the evidence of Mrs. Clarke, he considered her but as so much rubbish; she should be put completely out of the way; they should have something more solid whereon to build a superstructure. Here the honourable baronet went through the different cases, and dwelt particularly on that of Colonel French's levy. The conversation reported by Miss Taylor to have taken place in her presence between Mrs. Clarke and the Duke of York, he could not help considering true, when he reflected on the long time for which the Duke tolerated the levy a levy, too, for which so very few men bad been raised, when compared with the number stipulated by the original contract. He, when be considered the general stigma which had been most unfairly cast upon the legal profession, must beg leave to say, what he was sure all the Crown lawyers might with equal justice say, what Cicero had said on the trial of Verres, that he would much rather defend than accuse. He was consoled when he reflected on this case, by the consideration of the fairness with which it had been treated; by the consideration that all parties and persons in the House had come forward fairly, and impartially had given the opinions which went to direct their votes; for his part, had his constituents the eyes of Argus, he would wish them directed to his political career. In conclusion, he now would say, that he could not think of voting for the original address, because it was not determinative, nor would he vote for the amendment of the honourable gentleman on the floor (Mr. Bankes) because it merely dealt in insinuation; he would boldly charge the Duke of York with a knowledge of those corrupt proceedings; and when the right honourable gentleman opposite (the Chancellor) moved his resolution tending to ulterior proceedings, he should certainly move the following amendment :

Resolved, that this House do believe his Royal High ness the Commander-in-chief to have had a knowledge of these corrupt practices, of which evidence had been produced at the bar."

Mr. Ryder said, if he was to vote against the Duke of York's conduct, as Commander-in-chief, he would consider the course proposed by the honourable baronet, who

had just sat down, as more eligible to be adopted by the House than the amendment of the honourable gentleman opposite, because it was the most manly, honourable, and open. With respect to the so much ad verted to testimony of Mrs. Clarke, he would not content himself by saying he thought she was not to be believed, but he would also say he thought she would have been committed to prison by any judge in the land, and subjected to the penalties of per jury for her evidence. He could not be led to think much more favourably of Miss Taylor-the improbabilities against her were so great, that he never could imagine her entitled to the slightest credit. What! was it to be be Heved for a moment, that even if the Duke of York had been guilty of such corrupt practices as had been attributed to him, he would have made Miss Taylor privy to it ?~(Hear, hear, heart) Was it to be credited that if this conversation even did take place before her, serious as it was, it would be the only one to which she would have been witness? Was it to be credited, either, that this conversation could have made such a minute impression upon her innocent and unsuspicious mind, that at the distance of four years she could repeat it word by word? (Hear, hear) No person living could for one moment give credit to so highly improbable a story. But as a further proof of her direct falsehood, he would merely state one answer which she had boldly given, and then leave her credibility to the judgment of the House. She was asked, whether at the time of a conversation which she had with Mrs. Clarke only two days before the present inquiry, she had made any reference to this expected inquiry; what was her answer, "Why, indeed, I did not know about that." Who in his senses would believe her after this? It had been said, that one who tells falsehood once, ought not therefore to be discredited, as he might afterwards tell truth, and that truth might prove im portant; but how was it possible to know when such a person told truth, and when he told falsehood? (Hear, hear!) Suppose, however, the Duke of York had been base, instead of honourable in his conduct-suppose he had always herded with the vilest, instead of associating with the best of mankind-kept company with Captain Sandon, instead of such men as Colonel Gordon--what would be the immediate and necessary inference! Why, certainly, guilt. Then by what vile, revolutionary logic should not the very reverse consequence follow, when the very reversé

conduct had been proved? (Hear, hear!) After all the industry which had been used, after all the revengeful ma lice of Mrs. Clarke, nothing could be proved against him, except indiscretion. Out of all the correspondence of Mrs. Clarke with the Duke, the fifty or sixty letters which she had stated she had in her possession, only two could be at last produced to shew even a shadow of imputation against him. Let the House then not vote for an address, condemning him virtually, until on proof it found him guilty; let it be consistent even in its inconsistency. On his view, and he had attentively considered the subject, the House ought not, without better proof, subject itself to the inconveniencies which might arise from such a condemnation. The army had confessedly flourished under the Duke of York; he had made it one of the best in the world. The honourable gentleman himself took this occasion to say, that in all the professional intercourse to which his situation (judge advocate) introduced him where the Duke of York was concerned, he had ever found him most affable, most ardent for the interests of the army, and most desirous to go straight forward in the cause of justice, without turning either to the right or to the left. This was also the opinion of the gentleman who had preceded him in office; and when he was com pelled to resign it on account of ill health, he communicated this consolatory circumstance to him, his successor, which communication he now declared, had been com pletely justified. He begged the House to look at the institutions of Marlow and High Wycombe established by the Duke of York. He begged of them to look at the establishment at Chelsea for the education of the or phan children of soldiers who had fallen in defence of their country, and for the children of those who were abroad fighting its battles. (Hear, hear!) To the amendment of Mr. Bankes he should particularly object, because it differed essentially from his speech. How will you answer the country, when they see you condemn the man by your vote whom you acquit by your speech. Is the Duke guilty or not guilty? (Hear, hear!) "Aye (said Mr. Fuller), speak out, speak out." (Order, order!) He thought the House ought to say aye or no at once upon the question. The minutes of the evidence were before them" those who run may read," let them then at once decide, and either acquit or move an im peachment, if they thought him guilty.

Lord Temple said, that he withheld giving his opinion on the question before the House until that protracted hour, because he was anxious to hear the previous discus. sion on it. After having heard the different bearings of the evidence sifted and examined by persons of great talents and acquirements, he thought that he would be the better able to bring his mind to a decision on this great subject-one perhaps as important as ever engaged the attention of parliament. This was not a question of party feeling. It was to be decided on principles of honour and justice. However anxious he might be at other times to be considered as a member of a party, it was an honour which he would renounce on the present occasion. No attachment to party should induce him to decide this question on any other grounds than those he had stated. Whatever his political bias might be, it should not influence him in the vote he should give. Never in the course of his life had he given his sentiments on any question with so much pain to himself as he should on that upon which he was now addressing the House; but the eyes of the country were upon them, and he would discharge his duty and his conscience, however acutely he might feel in doing so. This, fortunately, was not a question affecting the loyalty of any man. It might be discussed and decided consistently with the most perfect veneration for the consti-' tutional head of the state. The atttachment of all ranks of people to the illustrious family on the throne was daily increasing, by the regard and affection which the virtues of the sovereign inspired. The country had given proof of their attachment by the zeal with which they stepped forward in support of the throne, when its overthrow was threatened by the furious principles that were propagated from another people; this they had shewn by the sacri fices of every kind which they had made, andere daily making. This, therefore, was not a question whether they should preserve their attachment to the family on the throne, but whether an individual of that family deserved to partake of that confidence they reposed in the head of it. That the character of a son of a king should now be under discussion, was matter of deep and severe regret; the House must acknowledge that it was; but it was a duty which, however painful, they must discharge; it was a question, however it might affect their feelings, that they must decide. The cup was poured out, and they