No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities,
of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different
men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it
will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do
opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my
sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The
questing before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own
part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and
in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the
debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill
the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep
back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should
consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of
disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly
kings.
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
siren 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 their 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 argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years.
Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the
subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain.
Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find
which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive
ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm
which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have
supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored
its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament.
Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional
violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been
spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these
things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no
longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free-- if we mean to preserve
inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long
contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have
been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until
the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat
it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is
left us!
They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an
adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next
year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be
stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction?
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our
backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have
bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those
means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people,
armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we
possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us.
Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who
presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight
our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the
vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were
base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There
is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their
clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it
come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace,
Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that
sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our
brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that
gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to
be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know
not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me
death!
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