Lend Me Your Ears: Great Speeches in History

by Unknown

  ’Tis substantially true that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule indeed extends with more or less force to every species of free government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundations of the fabric?

  Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the structure of a government gives force to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlightened.

  As a very important source of strength and security, cherish public credit. One method of preserving it is to use it as sparingly as possible: avoiding occasions of expense by cultivating peace, but remembering also that timely disbursements to prepare for danger frequently prevent much greater disbursements to repel it; avoiding likewise the accumulation of debt, not only by shunning occasions of expense but by vigorous exertions in time of peace to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars may have occasioned, not ungenerously throwing upon posterity the burden which we ourselves ought to bear. The execution of these maxims belongs to your representatives, but it is necessary that public opinion should cooperate. To facilitate to them the performance of their duty, it is essential that you should practically bear in mind that towards the payment of debts there must be revenue; that to have revenue there must be taxes; that no taxes can be devised which are not more or less inconvenient and unpleasant….

  Observe good faith and justice towards all nations. Cultivate peace and harmony with all. Religion and morality enjoin this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, and, at no distant period, a great nation to give to mankind the magnanimous and too novel example of a people always guided by an exalted justice and benevolence. Who can doubt that in the course of time and things the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary advantages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it? Can it be, that Providence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue? The experiment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human nature. Alas! is it rendered impossible by its vices?

  In the execution of such a plan nothing is more essential than that permanent, inveterate antipathies against particular nations and passionate attachments for others should be excluded, and that in place of them just and amicable feelings towards all should be cultivated. The nation which indulges towards another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness, is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Antipathy in one nation against another disposes each more readily to offer insult and injury, to lay hold of slight causes of umbrage, and to be haughty and intractable, when accidental or trifling occasions of dispute occur. Hence frequent collisions, obstinate, envenomed, and bloody contests. The nation prompted by ill will and resentment sometimes impels to war the government, contrary to the best calculations of policy. The government sometimes participates in the national propensity, and adopts through passion what reason would reject; at other times, it makes the animosity of the nation subservient to projects of hostility instigated by pride, ambition, and other sinister and pernicious motives. The peace often, sometimes perhaps the liberty, of nations has been the victim.

  So likewise, a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a variety of evils. Sympathy for the favorite nation, facilitating the illusion of an imaginary common interest, in cases where no real common interest exists, and infusing into one the enmities of the other, betrays the former into a participation in the quarrels and wars of the latter, without adequate inducement or justification. It leads also to concessions to the favorite nation of privileges denied to others, which is apt doubly to injure the nation making the concessions; by unnecessarily parting with what ought to have been retained; and by exciting jealousy, ill will, and a disposition to retaliate, in the parties from whom equal privileges are withheld. And it gives to ambitious, corrupted, or deluded citizens (who devote themselves to the favorite nation) facility to betray or sacrifice the interests of their own country, without odium, sometimes even with popularity…. Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I conjure you to believe me, fellow citizens), the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake, since history and experience prove that foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes of republican government. But that jealousy to be useful must be impartial; else it becomes the instrument of the very influence to be avoided, instead of a defense against it….

  ’Tis our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances, with any portion of the foreign world. So far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it, for let me not be understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to existing engagements (I hold the maxim no less applicable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is always the best policy). I repeat it, therefore, let those engagements be observed in their genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary and would be unwise to extend them.

  Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable establishments, on a respectably defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary emergencies.

  Harmony, liberal intercourse with all nations, are recommended by policy, humanity, and interest. But even our commercial policy should hold an equal and impartial hand: neither seeking nor granting exclusive favors or preferences; consulting the natural course of things; diffusing and diversifying by gentle means the streams of commerce, but forcing nothing; establishing with powers so disposed; in order to give to trade a stable course, to define the rights of our merchants, and to enable the government to support them; conventional rules of intercourse, the best that present circumstances and mutual opinion will permit, but temporary, and liable to be from time to time abandoned or varied, as experience and circumstances shall dictate; constantly keeping in view, that ’tis folly in one nation to look for disinterested favors from another; that it must pay with a portion of its independence for whatever it may accept under that character; that by such acceptance, it may place itself in the condition of having given equivalents for nominal favors and yet of being reproached with ingratitude for not giving more. There can be no greater error than to expect, or calculate upon, real favors from nation to nation. ’Tis an illusion which experience must cure, which a just pride ought to discard.

  In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong and lasting impression I could wish, that they will control the usual current of the passions, or prevent our nation from running the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of nations. But if I may even flatter myself that they may be productive of some partial benefit, some occasional good; that they may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigue, to guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism; this hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your welfare, by which they have been dictated….

  Though in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will never cease to view them with indulgence, and that after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its service, with an upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the mansions of rest.

  Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, and actuated by that fervent love towards it which is so natural to a man who views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for several generations, I anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat, in which I promise myself to realize, without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst
of my fellow citizens, the benign influence of good laws under a free government, the ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers.

  John Brown Has a Few Words to Say about His Death Sentence

  “Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should… mingle my blood further with the blood of my children and with the blood of millions in this slave country whose rights are disregarded by wicked, cruel, and unjust enactments, I say let it be done.”

  John Brown was a killer with a cause. In the clashes in Kansas between Free Soilers and proslavery partisans (called border ruffians), “Osawatamie Brown” led a party that killed five men in the name of abolition.

  Eastern liberals, including Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, admired this man of action, who set himself up in 1858 as “commander in chief” of a nebulous army to seize power and property from slaveholders; he gained fame as a rebel in a raid in Missouri to free a group of slaves, whom he took to Canada and freedom.

  Brown rented a farmhouse in Maryland, fifty-five miles north of the nation’s capital, in 1859; his plan was to strike across the Potomac River at the arsenal in Harpers Ferry, Virginia. With a band of thirteen whites and five blacks, Brown seized the town, killing several citizens, including a free Negro; he let news of the raid go forth in the hope of raising an army of insurrection. Federal troops under the command of Colonel Robert E. Lee and Lieutenant J. E. B. Stuart arrived and demanded his surrender; Brown and his band, including two of his sons, holed themselves up in the firehouse and chose a suicidal fight. Seven of Brown’s men, his sons among them, were killed; the rebels took the lives of ten of the U.S. troops.

  To what end? Abraham Lincoln at the Cooper Union a few months later dismissed Brown as a monomaniac whose insurrection “ends in little else than his own execution,” but abolitionist orator Wendell Phillips believed that emancipation began at Harpers Ferry. Southerners used him as evidence of the North’s intent to seize their property by force and violence, but most northerners—who did not like slavery but did not favor its abolition in the South—saw him as fanatic if not insane. He was mythologized in song, to the tune of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” sung by Union soldiers in the coming war: “John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave, but his soul is marching on.”

  In prison and on trial. Brown felt the attention of the nation on himself and his cause, and comported himself with dignity. On November 2, 1859, following his conviction and sentence of death, he made these extemporaneous remarks, printed here in their entirety. The powerful evocation of the Christian message would have gained even greater force without the last three, self-serving paragraphs, ending on “I say let it be done,” but excess was in his nature.

  ***

  I HAVE, MAY it please the court, a few words to say.

  In the first place, I deny everything but what I have all along admitted: of a design on my part to free slaves. I intended certainly to have made a clean thing of that matter, as I did last winter, when I went into Missouri and there took slaves without the snapping of a gun on either side, moving them through the country, and finally leaving them in Canada. I designed to have done the same thing again on a larger scale. That was all I intended. I never did intend murder, or treason, or the destruction of property, or to excite or incite slaves to rebellion, or to make insurrection.

  I have another objection, and that is that it is unjust that I should suffer such a penalty. Had I interfered in the manner which I admit, and which I admit has been fairly proved—for I admire the truthfulness and candor of the greater portion of the witnesses who have testified in this case—had I so interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the so-called great, or in behalf of any of their friends, either father, mother, brother, sister, wife, or children, or any of that class, and suffered and sacrificed what I have in this interference, it would have been all right. Every man in this court would have deemed it an act worthy of reward rather than punishment.

  This court acknowledges, too, as I suppose, the validity of the law of God. I see a book kissed, which I suppose to be the Bible, or at least the New Testament, which teaches me that all things whatsoever I would that men should do to me, I should do even so to them. It teaches me, further, to remember them that are in bonds as bound with them. I endeavored to act up to the instruction. I say I am yet too young to understand that God is any respecter of persons. I believe that to have interfered as I have done, as I have always freely admitted I have done, in behalf of his despised poor, I did not wrong but right. Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my life for the furtherance of the ends of justice, and mingle my blood further with the blood of my children and with the blood of millions in this slave country whose rights are disregarded by wicked, cruel and unjust enactments, I say let it be done.

  Let me say one word further. I feel entirely satisfied with the treatment I have received on my trial. Considering all the circumstances, it has been more generous than I expected. But I feel no consciousness of guilt. I have stated from the first what was my intention, and what was not. I never had any design against the liberty of any person, nor any disposition to commit treason or incite slaves to rebel or make any general insurrection. I never encouraged any man to do so, but always discouraged any idea of that kind.

  Let me say, also, in regard to the statements made by some of those who were connected with me, I hear it has been stated by some of them that I have induced them to join me. But the contrary is true. I do not say this to injure them, but as regretting their weakness. Not one but joined me of his own accord, and the greater part at his own expense. A number of them I never saw, and never had a word of conversation with, till the day they came to me, and that was for the purpose I have stated.

  Now I have done.

  King Edward VIII Abdicates His Throne

  “I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility… without the help and support of the woman I love.”

  For King Edward VIII to marry Wallis Simpson, a divorcée, he was required by the religious and political establishment to abdicate the British throne. On December 11, 1936, the former king, now the duke of Windsor, spoke to an international audience from Windsor Castle in the radio broadcast of his farewell address.

  Although Winston Churchill is often credited with writing the farewell, the duke of Windsor denied such reports and said that Churchill added only a few phrases to the speech that he himself wrote. This is probably true, although his friend and aide Walter Monckton surely had a hand in the drafting. Lord Beaverbrook called it “a triumph of natural and sincere eloquence,” but Lady Ravensdale considered it “hot-making and melodramatic.” The abdicating king’s mother, Queen Mary, wrote bitterly of “the failure of my Son in not carrying on the duties and responsibilities of the Sovereign of our great Empire,” and many commoners in Britain felt he had “let down the side” by putting love before duty; Albert Julius, a jeweler in Piccadilly, a generation later traced the decline of British moral and political power to that day. But Churchill, in bidding farewell to the ex-monarch after the speech, quoted poet Andrew Marvell’s ode on the beheading of Charles I: “He nothing common did or mean / Upon that memorable scene.”

  Succeeded by his brother, George VI, the duke of Windsor was introduced on the broadcast by his brother’s instructions as “His Royal Highness Prince Edward.” Legend has it that Edward VIII’s reference to “radio” rather than “wireless” was responsible for making the older term obsolete, but the address itself contains neither word. In America, radio listeners in the early-morning hours were moved by the brave-sounding words over the crackling signal; the anthologist, then six, learned of the impact a speech could have as he listened with his mother, who cried at the royal reference to “the woman I love.”

  ***

  AT LONG LAST I am able to say a few words of my own. I have never wanted to withhold anything, but until now it has not been
constitutionally possible for me to speak.

  A few hours ago I discharged my last duty as king and emperor, and now that I have been succeeded by my brother, the duke of York, my first words must be to declare my allegiance to him. This I do with all my heart.

  You all know the reasons which have impelled me to renounce the throne. But I want you to understand that in making up my mind I did not forget the country or the empire, which, as prince of Wales and lately as king, I have for twenty-five years tried to serve.

  But you must believe me when I tell you that I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as king as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love.

  And I want you to know that the decision I have made has been mine and mine alone. This was a thing I had to judge entirely for myself. The other person most nearly concerned has tried up to the last to persuade me to take a different course.

  I have made this, the most serious decision of my life, only upon the single thought of what would, in the end, be best for all.

  This decision has been made less difficult to me by the sure knowledge that my brother, with his long training in the public affairs of this country and with his fine qualities, will be able to take my place forthwith without interruption or injury to the life and progress of the empire. And he has one matchless blessing, enjoyed by so many of you, and not bestowed on me—a happy home with his wife and children.