Oration Delivered At Boston, March 6, 1775 by
Dr. Joseph Warren
Tantæ molis erat, Romanam condere gentem.
VIRGIL'S Æne
Qui, metuens, vivit, liber mihi non erit unquam.
HOR. Epis
MY EVER HONOURED
FELLOW CITIZENS:
IT is not without
the most humiliating conviction of my want of ability that I now appear before
you: but the sense I have of the obligation I am under to obey the calls of my
country at all times, together with an animating recollection of your
indulgence, exhibited upon so many occasions, has induced me, once more, undeserving
as I am, to throw myself upon that candour which looks with kindness on the
feeblest efforts of an honest mind.
You will not now
expect the elegance, the learning, the fire, the enrapturing strains of
eloquence which charmed you when a LOVELL, A CHURCH, or a HANCOCK spake; but
you will permit me to say that with a sincerity, equal to theirs, I mourn over
my bleeding country: with them I weep at her distress, and with them deeply
resent the many injuries she has received from the hands of cruel and unreasonable
men.
That personal
freedom is the natural right of every man; and that property, or an exclusive
right to dispose of what he has honestly acquired by his own labour,
necessarily arises therefrom, are truths which common sense has placed beyond
the reach of contradiction. And no man, or body of men, can, without being
guilty of flagrant injustice, claim a right to dispose of the persons
or acquisitions of any other man, or body of men, unless it can be proved that
such a right has arisen from some compact between the parties in which it has
been explicitly and freely granted.
If I may be indulged
in taking a retrospective view of the first settlement of our country, it will
be easy to determine with what degree of justice the late parliament of Great
Britain have assumed the power of giving away that property which the Americans
have earned by their labour.
Our fathers having
nobly resolved never to wear the yoke of despotism, and seeing the European
world, at that time, through indolence and cowardice, falling a prey to
tyranny, bravely threw themselves upon the bosom of the ocean,
determined to find a place in which they might enjoy their freedom, or perish
in the glorious attempt. Approving heaven beheld the favourite ark dancing upon
the waves, and graciously preserved it until the chosen families were brought
in safety to these western regions. They found the land swarming with savages,
who threatened death with every kind of torture. But savages, and death with
torture, were far less terrible than slavery: nothing was so much the object of
their abhorrence as a tyrant's power: they knew that it was more safe to dwell
with man in his most unpolished state, than in a country where arbitrary power
prevails. Even anarchy itself, that bugbear held up by the tools of power
(though truly to be deprecated) is infinitely less dangerous to mankind than
arbitrary government. Anarchy can be but of short duration; for when men are at
liberty to pursue that course which is most conducive to their own happiness,
they will soon come into it, and from the rudest state of nature, order and
good government must soon arise. But tyranny, when once established, entails
its curses on a nation to the latest period of time; unless some daring genius,
inspired by heaven, shall, unappalled by danger, bravely form and execute the
arduous design of restoring liberty and life to his enslaved, murdered country.
The tools of power,
in every age, have racked their inventions to justify the few in sporting with
the happiness of the many; and, having found their sophistry too weak to hold
mankind in bondage, have impiously dared to force religion, the daughter of the
king of heaven, to become a prostitute in the service of hell. They taught that
princes, honoured with the name of christian, might bid defiance to the founder
of their faith, might pillage Pagan countries and deluge them with blood, only
because they boasted themselves to be the disciples of that teacher who
strictly charged his followers to do to others as they would that others should
do unto them.
This country, having
been discovered by an English subject, in the year 1620, was (according to the
system which the blind superstition of those times supported) deemed the
property of the crown of England. Our ancestors, when they resolved to quit
their native soil, obtained from king James, a grant of certain lands in North
America. This they probably did to silence the cavils of their enemies, for it
cannot be doubted, but they despised the pretended right which he claimed
thereto. Certain it is, that he might, with equal propriety and justice, have
made them a grant of the planet Jupiter. And their subsequent conduct plainly shews
that they were too well acquainted with humanity, and the principles of natural
equity, to suppose that the grant gave them any right to take possession; they
therefore entered into a treaty with the natives, and bought from them the
lands: nor have I ever yet obtained any information that our ancestors ever
pleaded, or that the natives ever regarded the grant from the English crown:
the business was transacted by the parties in the same independent manner that
it would have been, had neither of them ever known or heard of the island of
Great Britain.
Having become the
honest proprietors of the soil, they immediately applied themselves to the
cultivation of it; and they soon beheld the virgin earth teeming with richest
fruits, a grateful recompense for their unwearied toil. The fields began to
wave with ripening harvests, and the late barren wilderness was seen to blossom
like the rose. The savage natives saw with wonder the delightful change, and
quickly formed a scheme to obtain that by fraud or force, which nature meant as
the reward of industry alone. But the illustrious emigrants soon convinced the
rude invaders, that they were not less ready to take the field for battle than
for labour; and the insidious foe was driven from their borders as often as he
ventured to disturb them. The crown of England looked with indifference on the
contest; our ancestors were left alone to combat with the natives. Nor is there
any reason to believe, that it ever was intended by the one party, or expected
by the other, that the grantor should defend and maintain the grantees in the
peaceable possession of the lands named in the patents. And it appears plainly,
from the history of those times, that neither the prince, nor the people of
England, thought themselves much interested in the matter.
They had not then
any idea of a thousandth part of those advantages which they
since have, and we are most heartily willing they should still continue to reap
from us.
But when, at an
infinite expense of toil and blood, this widely extended continent had been
cultivated and defended: when the hardy adventurers justly expected that they
and their descendants should peaceably have enjoyed the harvest
of those fields which they had sown, and the fruit of those vineyards which
they had planted; this country was then thought worthy the attention of the
British ministry; and the only justifiable and only successful means of
rendering the colonies serviceable to Britain were adopted. By an intercourse
of friendly offices, the two countries became so united in affection, that they
thought not of any distinct or separate interests, they found both countries
flourishing and happy. Britain saw her commerce extended, and her wealth
increased; her lands raised to an immense value; her fleets riding triumphant
on the ocean; the terror of her arms spreading to every quarter of the globe.
The colonist found himself free, and thought himself secure; he dwelt under his
own vine, and under his own fig tree, and had none to make him afraid: he knew
indeed that by purchasing the manufactures of Great Britain, he contributed to
its greatness: he knew that all the wealth that his labour produced centered in
Great Britain: but that, far from exciting his envy, filled him with the
highest pleasure; that thought supported him in all his toils. When the
business of the day was past, he solaced himself with the contemplation, or
perhaps entertained his listening family with the recital of some great, some
glorious transaction which shines conspicuous in the history of Britain: or,
perhaps, his elevated fancy led him to foretel, with a kind of enthusiastic
confidence, the glory, power, and duration of an empire which should extend
from one end of the earth to the other: he saw, or thought he saw, the British
nation risen to a pitch of grandeur which cast a veil over the Roman glory,
and, ravished with the præview, boasted a race of British kings, whose names
should echo through those realms where Cyrus, Alexander, and the Cæsars were
unknown; princes for whom millions of grateful subjects redeemed from slavery
and Pagan ignorance, should, with thankful tongues, offer up their prayers and
praises to that transcendently great and beneficent Being, by whom kings reign,
and princes decree justice.
These pleasing
connections might have continued; these delightsome prospects might have been
every day extended; and even the reveries of the most warm imagination
might have been realized; but unhappily for us, unhappily for Britain,
the madness of an avaricious minister of state, has drawn a sable
curtain over the charming scene, and in its stead, has brought upon the stage,
discord, envy, hatred, and revenge, with civil war close in their rear.
Some demon, in an
evil hour, suggested to a short sighted financier, the hateful project of
transferring the whole property of the king's subjects in America, to his
subjects in Britain. The claim of the British parliament to tax the colonies,
can never be supported but by such a TRANSFER; for the right of the House of
Commons of Great Britain, to originate any tax, or grant money, is altogether
derived from their being elected by the people of Great
Britain to act for them; and the people of Great Britain cannot confer on their
representatives a right to give or grant any thing which they themselves have
not a right to give or grant personally. Therefore it follows, that if the
members chosen by the people of Great Britain, to represent them in parliament,
have, by virtue of their being so chosen, any right to give or grant American
property, or to lay any tax upon the lands or persons of the colonists, it is
because the lands and people in the colonies are bona fide, owned by, and
justly belonging to the people of Great Britain. But (as has been before
observed) every man has a right to personal freedom, consequently a right to
enjoy what is acquired by his own labour. And as it is evident that the
property in this country has been acquired by our own labour; it is the duty of
the people of Great Britain, to produce some compact in which we have explicity
given up to them a right to dispose of our persons or property. Until this is
done, every attempt of theirs, or of those whom they have deputed to act for
them, to give or grant any part of our property, is directly repugnant to every
principle of reason and natural justice. But I may boldly say, that such a
compact never existed, no, not even in imagination. Nevertheless, the
representatives of a nation, long famed for justice and the exercise of every
noble virtue, have been prevailed on to adopt the fatal scheme: and although
the dreadful consequences of this wicked policy have already shaken the empire
to its centre; yet still it is persisted in. Regardless of the voice of reason,
deaf to the prayers and supplications, and unaffected with the flowing tears of
suffering millions, the British ministry still hug the darling idol; and every
rolling year affords fresh instances of the absurd devotion with which they
worship it. Alas! how has the folly, the distraction of the British councils,
blasted our swelling hopes, and spread a gloom over this western hemisphere.
The hearts of
Britons and Americans, which lately felt the generous glow of mutual confidence
and love, now burn with jealously and rage. Though, but of yesterday, I
recollect (deeply affected at the ill boding change) the happy hours that past
whilst Britain and America rejoiced in the prosperity and greatness of each
other (heaven grant those halcyon days may soon return.) But now the Briton too
often looks on the American with an envious eye, taught to consider his just
plea for the enjoyment of his earnings, as the effect of pride and stubborn
opposition to the parent country. Whilst the American beholds the Briton as the
ruffian, ready first to take away his property, and next, what is still dearer
to every virtuous man, the liberty of his country.
When the measures of
administration had disgusted the colonies to the highest degree, and the people
of Great Britian had, by artifice and falsehood, been irritated against
America, an army was sent over to enforce submission to certain acts of the
British parliament, which reason scorned to countenance, and which placemen and
pensioners were found unable to support.
Martial law and the
government of a well regulated city, are so entirely different, that it has
always been considered as improper to quarter troops in populous cities;
frequent disputes must necessarily arise between the citizen and the soldier,
even if no previous animosities subsist. And it is further certain,
from a consideration of the nature of mankind, as well as from constant
experience, that standing armies always endanger the liberty of the subject.
But when the people on the one part, considered the army as sent to enslave
them, and the army on the other, were taught to look on the people as in a
state of rebellion, it was but just to fear the most disagreeable consequences.
Our fears, we have seen, were but too well grounded.
The many injuries
offered to the town, I pass over in silence. I cannot now mark out the path
which led to that unequalled scene of horror, the sad remembrance of which,
takes the full possession of my soul. The sanguinary theatre again opens itself
to view. The baleful images of terror crowd around me, and discontented ghosts,
with hollow groans, appear to solemnize the anniversary of the FIFTH OF MARCH.
Approach we then the
melancholy walk of death. Hither let me call the gay companion; here let him
drop a farewell tear upon that body which so late he saw vigorous and warm with
social mirth; hither let me lead the tender mother to weep over her beloved
son: come widowed mourner, here satiate thy grief; behold thy murdered husband
gasping on the ground, and to complete the pompous show of wretchedness, bring
in each hand thy infant children to bewail their father's fate: take heed, ye
orphan babes, lest, whilst your streaming eyes are fixed upon the ghastly
corpse, your feet slide on the stones bespattered with your father's brains.1
Enough! this tragedy need not be heightened by an infant weltering in the blood
of him that gave it birth. Nature, reluctant, shrinks already from the view,
and the chilled blood rolls slowly backward to its fountain. We wildly stare
about, and with amazement, ask, who spread this ruin round us? what wretch has
dared deface the image of his God? has haughty France, or cruel Spain, sent
forth her myrmidons? has the grim savage rushed again from the far distant
wilderness ? or does some fiend, fierce from the depth of hell, with all the
rancorous malice, which the apostate damned can feel, twang her destructive
bow, and hurl her deadly arrows at our breast? no, none of these; but, how
astonishing! it is the hand of Britain that inflicts the wound. The arms of
George, our rightful king, have been employed to shed that blood, when justice,
or the honour of his crown, had called his subjects to the field.
But pity, grief,
astonishment, with all the softer movements of the soul, must now give way to
stronger passions. Say, fellow citizens, what dreadful thought now swells your
heaving bosoms; you fly to arms, sharp indignation flashes from each eye,
revenge gnashes her iron teeth, death grins an hideous smile, secure to drench
his greedy jaws in human gore, whilst hovering furies darken all the air.
But stop, my bold
adventurous countrymen, stain not your weapons with the blood of Britons.
Attend to reason's voice, humanity puts in her claim, and sues to be again
admitted to her wonted seat, the bosom of the brave. Revenge
is far beneath the noble mind. Many perhaps, compelled to rank among the vile
assassins, do, from their inmost souls, detest the barbarous action. The winged
death, shot from your arms, may chance to pierce some breast that bleeds
already for your injured country.
The storm subsides;
a solemn pause ensues; you spare, upon condition they depart. They go; they
quit your city; they no more shall give offence. Thus closes the important
drama.
And could it have
been conceived that we again should have seen a British army in our land, sent
to enforce obedience to acts of parliament destructive of our liberty. But the
royal ear, far distant from this western world, has been assaulted by the
tongue of slander; and villains, traitorous alike to king and country, have
prevailed upon a gracious prince to clothe his countenance with wrath, and to
erect the hostile banner against a people ever affectionate and loyal to him
and his illustrious predecessors of the house of Hanover. Our streets are again
filled with armed men; our harbour is crowded with ships of war; but these
cannot intimidate us; our liberty must be preserved ; it is far dearer than
life, we hold it even dear as our allegiance; we must defend it against the
attacks of friends as well as enemies; we cannot suffer even Britons to ravish
it from us.
No longer could we
reflect, with generous pride, on the heroic actions of our American
forefathers, no longer boast our origin from that far famed island, whose
warlike sons have so often drawn their well tried swords to save her from the
ravages of tyranny; could we, but for a moment, entertain the thought of giving
up our liberty. The man who meanly will submit to wear a shackle, contemns the
noblest gift of heaven, and impiously affronts the God that made him free.
It was a maxim of
the Roman people, which eminently conduced to the greatness of that state,
never to despair of the commonwealth. The maxim may prove as salutary to us
now, as it did to them. Short sighted mortals see not the numerous links of
small and great events, which form the chain on which the fate of kings and
nations is suspended. Ease and prosperity (though pleasing for a day) have
often sunk a people into effeminacy and sloth. Hardships and dangers (though we
for ever strive to shun them) have frequently called forth such virtues, as
have commanded the applause and reverence of an admiring world. Our country
loudly calls you to be circumspect, vigilant, active, and brave. Perhaps (all
gracious Heaven avert it) perhaps, the power of Britain, a nation great in war,
by some malignant influence, may be employed to enslave you: but let not even
this discourage you. Her arms, it is true, have filled the world with terror:
her troops have reaped the laurels of the field: her fleets have rode
triumphant on the sea—and when, or where, did you, my countrymen, depart inglorious
from the field of fight?2 you too can shew the
trophies of your forefathers victories and your own; can name the fortresses
and battles you have won; and many of you count the honourable
scars or wounds received, whilst fighting for your king and country.
Where justice is the
standard, heaven is the warrior's shield: but conscious guilt unnerves the arm
that lifts the sword against the innocent. Britain, united with these colonies,
by commerce and affection, by interest and blood, may mock the threats of France
and Spain: may be the seat of universal empire. But should America, either by
force, or those more dangerous engines, luxury and corruption, ever be brought
into a state of vassalage, Britain must lose her freedom also. No longer shall
she sit the empress of the sea: her ships no more shall waft her thunders over
the wide ocean: the wreath shall wither on her temples: her weakened arm shall
be unable to defend. her coasts: and she, at last, must bow her venerable head
to some proud foreigner's despotic rule,
But if; from past
events, we may venture to form a judgment of the future, we justly may expect
that the devices of our enemies will but increase the triumphs of our country.
I must indulge a hope that Britain's liberty, as well as ours, will eventually be
preserved by the virtue of America.
The attempt of the
British parliament to raise a revenue from America, and our denial of their
right to do it, have excited an almost universal inquiry into the rights of
mankind in general, and of British subjects in particular; the necessary result
of which must be such a liberality of sentiment, and such a jealousy of those
in power, as will, better than an adamantine wall, secure us against the future
approaches of despotism.
The malice of the
Boston port bill has been defeated in a very considerable degree, by giving you
an opportunity of deserving, and our brethren in this and our sister colonies
an opportunity of bestowing, those benefactions which have delighted your
friends and astonished your enemies, not only in America, but in Europe also.
And what is more valuable still, the sympathetic feelings for a brother in
distress, and the grateful emotions excited in the breast of him who finds
relief, must for ever endear each to the other, and form those indissoluble
bonds of friendship and affection, on which the preservation of our
rights so evidently depend.
The mutilation of
our charter, has made every other colony jealous for its own; for this, if once
submitted to us, would set on float the property and government of every
British settlement upon the continent. If charters are not deemed sacred, how
miserably precarious is every thing founded upon them.
Even the sending
troops to put these acts in execution, is not without advantages to us. The
exactness and beauty of their discipline inspire our youth with ardour in the
pursuit of military knowledge. Charles the invincible, taught Peter the great,
the art of war. The battle of Pultowa [sic]
convinced Charles of the proficiency Peter had made.
Our country is in
danger, but not to be despaired of. Our enemies are numerous and powerful; but
we have many friends, determining to be free, and heaven and earth will aid the
resolution. On you depend the fortunes of America. You are to decide the
important question, on which rest the happiness and liberty of millions yet
unborn. Act worthy of yourselves. The faltering tongue of hoary age calls on
you to support your country. The lisping infant raises its suppliant hands,
imploring defence against the monster slavery. Your fathers look from their
celestial seats with smiling approbation on their sons, who boldly stand forth
in the cause of virtue; but sternly frown upon the inhuman miscreant, who, to
secure the loaves and fishes to himself, would breed a serpent to destroy his
children.
But, pardon me, my
fellow citizens, I know you want not zeal or fortitude. You will maintain your
rights or perish in the generous struggle. However difficult the combat, you
never will decline it when freedom is the prize. An independence on Great
Britain is not our aim. No, our wish is, that Britain and the colonies may,
like the oak and ivy, grow and increase in strength together. But whilst the
infatuated plan of making one part of the empire slaves to the
other, is persisted in; the interest and safety of Britain, as well as the
colonies, require that the wise measures, recommended by the honourable the
continental congress, be steadily pursued; whereby the unnatural contest
between a parent honoured, and a child beloved, may probably be brought to such
an issue, as that the peace and happiness of both may be established upon a
lasting basis. But if these pacific measures are ineffectual, and it appears
that the only way to safety, is through fields of blood, I know you will not
turn your faces from your foes, but will, undauntedly, press forward, until
tyranny is trodden under foot, and you have fixed your adored goddess Liberty,
fast by a Brunswick's side, on the American throne.
You then, who nobly
have espoused your country's cause, who generously have sacrificed wealth and
ease; who have despised the pomp and shew of tinseled greatness; refused the
summons to the festive board; been deaf to the alluring calls of luxury and
mirth; who have forsaken the downy pillow, to keep your vigils by the midnight
lamp, for the salvation of your invaded country, that you might break the
fowler's snare, and disappoint the vulture of his prey; you then will reap that
harvest of renown which you so justly have deserved. Your country shall pay her
grateful tribute of applause. Even the children of your most inveterate
enemies, ashamed to tell from whom they sprang, while they in secret, curse
their stupid, cruel parents, shall join the general voice of gratitude to those
who broke the fetters which their fathers forged.
1 After Mr. Gray had been shot through the
body, and had fallen dead on the ground, a bayonet was pushed through his
skull; part of the bone being broken, his brains fell out upon the pavement.
2 The patience with which this people have
borne the repeated injuries which have been heaped upon them, and their
unwillingness to take any sanguinary measures, has, very injudiciously, been
ascribed to cowardice, by persons both here and in Great Britain. I most
heartily wish, that an opinion, so erroneous in itself, and so fatal in its
consequences, might be utterly removed before it be too late; and I think,
nothing further necessary to convince every intelligent man, that the conduct
of this people is owing to the tender regard which they have for their fellow
men, and an utter abhorrence to the shedding of human blood, than a little
attention to their general temper and disposition, discovered when they cannot
be supposed to be under any apprehension of danger to themselves. I will only
mention the universal detestation which they shew to every act of cruelty, by
whom and upon whomsoever committed; the mild spirit of their laws; the very few
crimes to which capital penalties are annexed; and the very great backwardness
which both courts and juries discover, in condemning persons charged with
capital crimes. But if any should think this observation not to the purpose, I
readily appeal to those gentlemen of the army who have been in the camp, or in
the field, with the Americans.
SOURCE: William T.
Clap, Publisher, Orations Delivered at
the Request of the Inhabitants of the Town of Boston to Commemorate the Evening
of the Fifth of March, 1770; When a Number of Citizens were Killed by a Party
of British Troops, Quartered Among Them, In a Time of Peace, Second
Edition, pp. 55-70
