The Most Famous Speech in American History

Background:

Following the Boston Tea Party, Dec. 16, 1773, in which American Colonists dumped 342

containers of tea into the Boston harbor, the British Parliament enacted a series of Acts in

response to the rebellion in Massachusetts.

In May of 1774, General Thomas Gage, commander of all British military forces in the colonies,

arrived in Boston, followed by the arrival of four regiments of British troops.

The First Continental Congress met in the fall of 1774 in Philadelphia with 56 American

delegates, representing every colony, except Georgia. On September 17, the Congress declared

its opposition to the repressive Acts of Parliament, saying they are "not to be obeyed," and also

promoted the formation of local militia units.

Thus economic and military tensions between the colonists and the British escalated. In February

of 1775, a provincial congress was held in Massachusetts during which John Hancock and

Joseph Warren began defensive preparations for a state of war. The English Parliament then

declared Massachusetts to be in a state of rebellion.

On March 23, in Virginia, the largest colony in America, a meeting of the colony's delegates was

held in St. John's church in Richmond. Resolutions were presented by Patrick Henry putting the

colony of Virginia "into a posture of defense...embodying, arming, and disciplining such a

number of men as may be sufficient for that purpose." Before the vote was taken on his

resolutions, Henry delivered the speech below, imploring the delegates to vote in favor.

He spoke without any notes in a voice that became louder and louder, climaxing with the now

famous ending. Following his speech, the vote was taken in which his resolutions passed by a

narrow margin, and thus Virginia joined in the American Revolution.

"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 that 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 towards 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 these 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 motives 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 on 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 longer.

"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 the means which the God of nature hath placed

in our power. Three 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!"

Patrick Henry

March 23, 1775