Patrick Henry's speech to the 2nd Virginia Assembly was
not transcribed.
St. John's Church, Richmond,
Virginia
MARCH 23, 1775
MR. PRESIDENT: 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 question 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 fulfil 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 offence, 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 these war-like 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 free² 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. Three 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!
Source: Wirt, William. Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry .
(Philadelphia) 1836, as reproduced in The World's Great Speeches, Lewis
Copeland and Lawrence W. Lamm, eds., (New York) 1973.
https://www.colonialwilliamsburg.org/learn/deep-dives/give-me-liberty-or-give-me-death/