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WHEN I RAISE MY ARM LIKE THIS, I'M
MUCH TALLER THAN Y'ALL
Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death
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Henry's Liberty or Death speech.
It follows the full text transcript of
Patrick Henry's Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death speech, delivered at
Richmond, Virginia - March 23, 1775.
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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
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 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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