by
Lori Wallach Boxer
Many will post this day, America’s 237th birthday, about the
Constitution and the Declaration of Independence—both sacred documents
indeed, and both in need of continuous reading, appreciation and
reverence. I would like to do something different today.
To avoid interference from Lieutenant-Governor Dunmore and his Royal
Marines, the Second Virginia Convention met on March 20, 1775 inland at
Richmond—in what is now called St. John’s Church—instead of the Capitol
in Williamsburg. Delegate Patrick Henry presented resolutions to raise a
militia, and to put Virginia in a posture of defense. Henry’s
opponents urged caution and patience until the crown replied to
Congress’ latest petition for reconciliation.
On the 23rd, Henry presented a proposal to organize a volunteer
company of cavalry or infantry in every Virginia county. By custom,
Henry addressed himself to the Convention’s president, Peyton Randolph
of Williamsburg. I consider this to be one of the most stirring,
emotional speeches EVER to be uttered on Freedom, on the determination
to rid oneself of the boot-on-neck tyranny of iron rule … and TO BE
FREE.
Please … on this day of all days … and in this time of all times … I
urge you to sit back for a couple of minutes and take the time to let
the following powerful words sink in. Whether you’ve read these words
in the past, either whole or in part, or you’re about to read them for
the first time … this is my Independence Day gift to you all, thousands
of my fellow friends and patriots all over this great and glorious
land—we of different faiths, colors, genders, ethnicities, drawn
together by our common bonds of unbridled love of Freedom and Liberty,
the emotion stirred in our hearts when we hear our National Anthem and
see the beauty of our flag, and the understanding of what it truly means
to be AN AMERICAN.
May God continue to bless you and your families … and may He continue to bless America.
***************
Patrick Henry
St. John’s Church
Richmond, Virginia
March 23, 1775
MR. PRESIDENT: 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 fulfil 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 offence, 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 these war-like
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. 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!
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