Patrick Henry's
famous "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death" speech
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Patrick Henry
March 23, 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 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 ubject 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 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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