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Patrick
Henry - 23 maart 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 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!
  
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