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 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!
