As he proceeded, however, and they observed how deeply he was
moving the audience, they may have had to keep up their courage by
reflecting that speeches in Congress rarely change votes. They are
intended to be read by the public outside, which is not under the
spell of the orator or the crowd. But when Fisher Ames, after what
must have seemed to them a whirlwind speech, closed with these solemn,
restrained words, they must have doubted whether their victory was
won:
Even the minutes I have spent in expostulating, have their value [he
said] because they protract the crisis and the short period in which
alone we may resolve to escape it. Yet I have, perhaps, as little
personal interest in the event as any one here. There is, I believe, no
member, who will not think his chance to be a witness of the
consequences greater than mine. If, however, the vote should pass to
reject--even I, slender and almost broken as my hold on life is, may
outlive the government and Constitution of my country.[1]
[Footnote 1: Elson, 359.]
The next day when the vote was taken it appeared that the Republicans,
instead of winning by a majority of six, had lost by three.
The person who really triumphed was George Washington, although Fisher
Ames, who won the immediate victory, deserved undying laurel.
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