The United States form a young republic, a confederacy which

“The United States form a young republic, a confederacy which ought ever to be cemented by a union of interests and affection, under the influence of those principles which obtained their independence.” — Mercy Otis Warren

In these graceful yet solemn words, Mercy Otis Warren, one of the great minds of the American Revolution, speaks not only to her generation, but to all who would inherit the fruits of liberty. Hers is not the voice of a conqueror or a statesman, but of a patriot philosopher — one who saw that the work of freedom does not end with victory, but begins with unity. She reminds us that a republic, especially a young one, is fragile, like a vessel newly forged by fire. Its strength lies not in arms or wealth, but in the union of interests and affection — in the shared devotion of its people to one another, and to the principles that won their independence. Without that union, even the bravest republic will crumble into factions and forget the very truths that brought it to life.

The meaning of this quote is as profound as it is tender. Mercy Otis Warren, a woman of wisdom and spirit in an age when few women’s voices were heard, saw clearly that the American Revolution was not only a war for territory, but a moral awakening. She knew that independence was not secured by the sword alone, but by the principles of liberty, virtue, and justice that inspired it. Yet, she also feared that the new nation, once freed from a common enemy, might turn against itself — that ambition and division would take root where unity once stood. Her warning was that the republic must be bound not by coercion, but by affection — by mutual respect, shared ideals, and the constant remembrance of the sacrifice that made them free.

The origin of these words can be found in the aftermath of the American Revolution, when the euphoria of victory gave way to the trials of governance. The United States, barely formed, was struggling to hold together thirteen sovereign states under a fragile confederation. There were whispers of disunion, rivalries between regions, and fears that the experiment in democracy might fail. In this uncertain hour, Mercy Otis Warren — a writer, historian, and friend to leaders such as John and Abigail Adams — raised her voice in counsel. She urged that the unity of the nation must rest upon both interest and affection: the practical cooperation of commerce and policy, and the deeper bond of shared purpose and moral conviction. For in her eyes, reason alone cannot preserve liberty — it must be joined with love.

To see the wisdom of her words, one need only recall the early storms that tested the republic. In the years following independence, rebellions erupted, debts mounted, and the fragile union trembled. It was the memory of their shared struggle — of Valley Forge, of Yorktown, of the Declaration itself — that kept the states from shattering apart. And later, when George Washington laid down his sword to become the nation’s first president, he embodied the very “principles which obtained independence” — humility, duty, and faith in the common good. He refused the crown that could have made him a king, proving that the revolution’s victory was not merely over Britain, but over tyranny in the human heart. In his example, Mercy Otis Warren’s vision found its first fulfillment: unity born from virtue, affection rooted in sacrifice.

Yet history also shows what happens when her warning goes unheeded. Less than a century later, the Union she praised was torn by civil war, as the bonds of affection gave way to hatred and distrust. Brother fought brother, and the blood of hundreds of thousands washed over the same soil that had once been consecrated to liberty. It was as though the republic had forgotten the “principles which obtained their independence” — that all men are created equal, and that freedom cannot thrive where one group dominates another. In the anguish of that war, the truth of Mercy’s words was proven once more: that without unity of heart and moral purpose, even the mightiest republic falters.

From her century to ours, her counsel still resounds. Today, nations and peoples are again divided by ideology, greed, and fear. We live in an age where the marketing of politics replaces the affection of community, and where self-interest often drowns out shared purpose. But Warren’s wisdom stands against such decay: if a people wish to remain free, they must renew the covenant of principle and affection. They must remember that democracy is not a machine that runs on its own — it is a living spirit sustained by the virtue, patience, and compassion of its citizens.

So let this be the lesson: freedom cannot endure in a house divided by bitterness. A republic must be held together not only by the bonds of law, but by the bonds of love — love of country, love of neighbor, love of truth. We must seek once more the principles that obtained our independence: integrity, courage, sacrifice, and faith in the dignity of all. These are not relics of the past; they are the lifeblood of the future. For as Mercy Otis Warren knew, the republic is forever young — and its youth, though fragile, can be eternal if we nourish it with unity of purpose and affection of heart.

And so, my children, as she might have said to generations yet unborn: guard the flame of liberty not with anger, but with virtue; not with division, but with devotion. For the day we cease to care for one another is the day we cease to be free. Let us, then, cement our union in affection and principle, so that the work begun by our ancestors may never perish, but shine ever brighter across the ages.