You ever bump into fun little parallels in your studies? That's all this post is--a fun little parallel. I was reading through Cicero's Phillipics (his speeches condemning Mark Antony after the assassination of Julius Caesar) and came across the following passage in the Tenth, where he is denouncing the weak-minded conciliation of his fellow senators:
"Finally—let me give utterance at last to a word, true and worthy of myself—if the purposes of this our order are governed by the nod of the veterans, and all our sayings and doings are regulated according to their will, I should choose death, which to Roman citizens has always been preferable to slavery. All slavery is wretched; but grant there was a slavery that was unavoidable; do you contemplate ever beginning the recovery of your liberty? When we could not endure that unavoidable and almost Fate-designed calamity, shall we endure this voluntary one? The whole of Italy is aflame with the longing for liberty; the citizens can no longer be slaves, we have given the Roman people this war and these weapons long after they have demanded them.
It is indeed with a great and well-nigh assured hope that we have taken up the cause of liberty; though I allow that the issues of war are uncertain and Mars inconstant, yet must we struggle for liberty at the risk of life. For life does not consist in breath: for it does not exist at all in the slave. All other nations can bear slavery, ours cannot, and for no other reason than that other nations shun toil and pain, and, to be free from these can endure all things; but we have been so trained and our minds so imbued by our ancestors as to refer all our thoughts and acts to the standard of honor and virtue. So glorious is the recovery of liberty that in regaining liberty we must not shrink even from death. Nay, if immortality were to follow the shrinking from present peril, yet from that we ought to shrink even more, as perpetual servitude. But seeing that days and nights all manner of chances surround us on every side, it is not the part of a man, least of all a Roman, to hesitate to give up the breath he was given by nature to his fatherland."—X.ix-x
"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? 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!"
