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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 question 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 the 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 numbers 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 gentlement 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
but 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 extentuate 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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