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 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 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!