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Patrick
Henry's "Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death" Speech -
March 23, 1775 |
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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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