LESSON XXXIII.

Speech of Patrick Henry before the Virginia Convention of Delegates, March, 1775.-WIRT.

MR. PRESIDENT,

IT is natural for 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 syren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is it 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, 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 motive for it?

Has Great Britain any other 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 ministers 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 any thing new to offer on the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? terms shall we find, which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, Sir, deceive ourselves longer.

Shall What

Sir, we have done every thing, 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?

er.

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means, which the God of nature hath placed in our powThree 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 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 !!!

Gentlemen

It is in vain, Sir, to extenuate the matter. 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, Heaven!-I know not what course others may take; but as for me-GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH.

LESSON XXXIV.

Slavery.-WILCOX.

AMONG the chief occasions which invite
The patriot, philanthropist and saint
To great exertions, what more loudly calls
On either, than the miserable state
Of Afric's sons in iron bondage held ?
Where held in bondage? In what savage land?
Where learning and religion never shed
Their meliorating beams; and where the rights,
The natural rights of man were never known?
In no such land, such corner of the world;

But in the midst of the united realm
Of learning and religion; and where, too,
The natural rights of man are clearly known;
Nay, more, are owned, and made a public boast.
All are born free, and all with equal rights.
So speaks the charter of a nation proud
Of her unequall'd liberties and laws,
While in that nation, shameful to relate,
One man in five is born and dies a slave.
Is this my country? this that happy land,
The wonder and the envy of the world?
O for a mantle to conceal her shame!
But why, when Patriotism cannot hide
The ruin which her guilt will surely bring
If unrepented; and unless the God

Who pour'd his plagues on Egypt till she let
The oppressed go free, and often pours his wrath
In earthquakes and tornadoes on the isles
Of western India, laying waste their fields,
Dashing their mercenary ships ashore,

Tossing the isles themselves like floating wrecks,
And burying towns alive in one wide grave
No sooner ope'd but closed; let judgment pass
For once untasted till the general doom,
Can it go well with us while we retain
This cursed thing? Will not untimely frosts,
Devouring insects, drought, and wind and hail,
Destroy the fruits of ground long till'd in chains?
Will not some daring spirit born to thoughts
Above his beast-like state, find out the truth
That Africans are men; and catching fire
From Freedom's altar raised before his eyes
With incense fuming sweet, in others light
A kindred flame in secret, till a train
Kindled at once, deal death on every side?
Cease then, Columbia, for thy safety cease,
And for thine honour, to proclaim the praise
Of thy fair shores of liberty and joy,

While thrice five hundred thousand wretched slaves
In thine own bosom, start at every word

As meant to mock their woes, and shake their chains,
Thinking defiance which they dare not speak.
Ye sons of Liberty, who rally round

Her standard at her yearly festival,
Flourish the sword, and bid the cannon roar
Defiance to all tyrants, shout huzzas

O'er flowing bowls, and with exulting voice
Sing "give us liberty or give us death;"
Your joy is merciless, while its glad sounds
From more than half the land return in groans;
Throw down your banners lifted to the sky,
They will not float on this impoisoned air.
Away with feast and song, come fast and weep-
Away with all defiance and disdain

Of foreign tyrants; humbly mourn our own.
For who are tyrants? they that make men slaves.
No more exult o'er kingdoms of the east
Where not a slave is found, till here are none,
Of more equality no longer boast.

Rail at usurping peers, when ye have shown
That fifty tenants to support a lord,

Is more at war with reason and with Heaven
Than fifty slaves a planter to support.
In personal rights and privileges dear
The monarch rises not so far above

The meanest free-born subject of his realm,
As does the master o'er the helpless slave.
With needful food supplied, the slave, say some,
Desires no more, and, void of care, is blest.
If by kind treatment it be sometimes thus,
What does it prove, but that the man, debased
By his condition, knows no higher good
Than what the brute enjoys? And is it just
To shut him from all rational delight
Until he feel no wants but those of sense,
Then call him happy to excuse the crime?
Or is it then no blessing to be free?
And were they fools who struggled to obtain
Our independence-to throw off a yoke
Far less oppressive than the one we bind
On Afric's sable sons? Are they not tax'd?
Yes! to the very blood that warms their veins.

8