Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775
No man thinks more highly
than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen
who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject
in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful
to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very
opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve.
This is no time for ceremony. The questing before the House is one of awful
moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a
question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the
subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we
can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold
to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through
fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my
country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I
revere above all earthly kings.
Mr. President, it is
natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes
against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she
transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and
arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who,
having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly
concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may
cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide
for it.
I have but one lamp by
which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way
of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to
know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten
years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace
themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has
been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet.
Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this
gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations
which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a
work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be
reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive
ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last
arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial
array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any
other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of
the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she
has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent
over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been
so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir,
we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer
upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which
it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and
humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already
exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done
everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have
petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated
ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the
tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been
slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our
supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt,
from the foot of the throne! 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!
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