Every
schoolkid knows that Patrick Henry said, "Give me liberty
or give me death", but how many of us are familiar with
the rest of the speech he gave before the Continental Congress
on March 23rd, 1775? It's a powerful expression of one man's
patriotic fervor and one of the great speeches of all time.
Give
Me Liberty or Give Me Death
Patrick Henry
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 the 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
numbers 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 gentlement 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 but 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 extentuate 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!
