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Give
Me Liberty or Give Me Death
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
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
remonstrance's 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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