American Liberty
by Patrick Henry
(1736-1799)
Virginia Convention of Delegates, March 23rd, 1775
THE
second Virginia Convention opened in St. John’s Church, Richmond, on March 20,
1775. The proceedings of the First Continental Congress, to which Patrick Henry
had been appointed deputy, having been approved, a bitter debate ensued on
resolutions offered by Henry for putting Virginia into an immediate “posture of
defense” by raising and training a militia. On March 23, in the course of that
debate, his most famous speech was uttered. This well-known version, as
re-ported by William Wirt in his Life and Character of Patrick Henry
(1817), is probably not the complete speech, but ac-cording to all available
evidence, it accurately presents all the high moments and sentiments of that
exciting “curtain-raiser” to the life story of our country.[1]
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 that 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.
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
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 offence, I should
consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty
towards 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 motives 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 on 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
longer.
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!
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 the 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!
Patrick Henry, Christian Freemason, 1736-1799
March 23rd, 1775
[1] Frederick C. Packard, ed., Freedom: Great Americans Speak (NY: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1948): 1-4, paragraphing mine; this version is reported by William Wart in his Life and Character of Patrick Henry (1817), and Packard said (1) that it “is probably not the complete speech, but according to all available evidence, it accurately presents all the high moments and sentiments of that exciting ‘curtain-raiser’ to the life story of our country.”