Today,
I find myself concluding a week of vacation in colonial Williamsburg, VA. I want to share this local piece of American
history.
To avoid interference
from Lieutenant-Governor Dunmore and his Royal Marines, the Second Virginia
Convention met 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. Henry's words were not
transcribed, but no one who heard them forgot their eloquence, or Henry's
closing words.
“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!”
May the God of our
Founding Fathers bless us, once again, with god-fearing statesmen!
Rev.
Dr. Kenneth L. Beale, Jr.
Chaplain
(Colonel-Ret), U.S. Army
Pastor, Ft. Snelling Memorial Chapel