is proved to be, by reason and the experience of all ages and countries, cannot be a rightful or legal power. For, as an excellent Bishop of the Church of England argues,* "the ends of Government cannot be answered by a total dissolution of all happiness at present, and of all hopes for the future."
The just inference therefore from these premises would be an exclusion of any power of Parliament over these Colonies, rather than the admission of an unbounded power.
We well know that the Colonists are charged by many persons in Great Britain with attempting to obtain such an exclusion and a total independence on her. As well we know the accusation to be utterly false. We are become criminal in the sight of such persons, by refusing to be guilty of the highest crime against ourselves and our posterity. Nolumus leges AngliÆ mutari. This is the rebellion with which we are stigmatised. We have committed the like offence, that was objected by the polite and humane Fimbria against a rude Senator of his time. "We have disrespectfully refused to receive the whole weapon into our body." We could not do it and live. But that must be acknowledged to be a poor excuse, equally inconsistent with good breeding and the Supreme Legislature of Great Britain.
For these ten years past we have been incessantly† attacked. Hard is our fate, when to escape the character of rebels, we must be degraded into that of slaves; as if there was no medium between the two extremes of anarchy and despotism, where innocence and freedom could find repose and safety.
Why should we be exhibited to mankind as a people, adjudged by Parliament unworthy of freedom? The thought alone is insupportable. Even those unhappy persons, who have had the misfortune of being born under the yoke of bondage imposed by the cruel laws, if they may be called laws, of the land where they received their birth, no sooner breathe the air of England, though they touch her shores only by accident,* than they instantly become freemen. Strange contradiction!† The same Kingdom at the same time, the asylum and the bane of Liberty.
To return to the charge against us, we can safely appeal to that Being, from whom no thought can be concealed, that our warmest wish and utmost ambition is, that we and our posterity may ever remain subordinate to, and dependent upon, our parent state. This submission our reason approves, our affection dictates, our duty commands, and our interest enforces.
If this submission indeed implies a dissolution of our Constitution, and a renunciation of our liberty, we should be unworthy of our relation to her, if we should not frankly declare, that we regard it with‡ horrour; and every true Englishman will applaud this just distinction and candid declaration. Our defence necessarily touches chords in unison with the fibres of his honest heart. They must vibrate in sympathetick tones. If we, his kindred, should be base enough to promise the humiliating subjection he could not believe us. We should suffer all the infamy of the engagement without finding the benefit expected from being thought as contemptible as we should undertake to be.
But this submission implies not such insupportable evils; and our amazement is inexpressible when we consider the gradual increase of these Colonies, from their slender beginnings in the last century to their late flourishing condition, and how prodigiously, since their settlement our parent state has advanced in wealth, force, and influence, till she is become the first power on the sea, and the envy of the world—that these our better days should not strike conviction into every mind, that the freedom and happiness of the Colonists are not inconsistent with her authority and prosperity.
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