A Year With George Washington
On March 20, 1775, George Washington attended the Virginia Convention meeting at St. John’s Church in Richmond, at which Patrick Henry introduced his audacious resolves and uttered his famous line, “give me liberty or give me death!”
The Assembly was convened to choose delegates for the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia, which was scheduled to open in May of that same year.
Several of the attendees were committed to proffering somewhat moderate resolutions in response to the ever-growing rift between the colonists and the mother country. Patrick Henry was most certainly not one of them.
When Edmund Pendleton offered conciliatory resolutions to the assembly present, Henry scoffed and boldly countered with several of his own. His proposals were far more radical in nature, as each was rooted in the supposition that full-scale war with Great Britain was inevitable. When he rose to give his now-famous speech, he left no doubt that it was an urgent call to arms.
The stirring speech was more akin to a fire-and-brimstone sermon than a mere appeal, and its boldness shocked many of those present. One Virginia loyalist remarked that “you never heard anything more infamously insolent than P. Henry’s speech.”
The torrid oration was bursting with Biblical references and patriotic zeal. Though the modern listener would struggle to identify the myriad religious references, the men in his audience knew their Bibles well and thus would have no trouble distinguishing the passages quoted and their relation to Henry’s intent. The most common, and indeed fitting, references were from the Book of Jeremiah.
Jeremiah was a prophet from the seventh century B.C., and unlike many other of God’s chosen messengers, he was called upon at a very young age. Much of the Book of Jeremiah centers around a nation embroiled in crisis in the waning days of the Kingdom of Judah. The parallels to America suffering beneath the yoke of Great Britain would not have been lost on those in St. John’s pews.
Henry drew from Jeremiah 5:21 when he said, “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?”
Jeremiah 5:21
“Pay attention to this, you foolish and senseless people, who have eyes and do not see, who have ears and do not hear.”
Referencing Jeremiah 18:21, Henry mirrored the words from the prophet when he uttered, “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.”
Jeremiah 18:22
“May cries be heard from their homes, when suddenly you send plunderers against them. For they have dug a pit to capture me, they have hidden snares for my feet.”
Again, Henry evokes the prophet in Jeremiah 6:14; as he pleads, “It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace– but there is no peace. The war is actually begun!”
Jeremiah 6:14
“They have treated lightly the injury to my people: ‘Peace, peace!’ they say, though there is no peace.”
And what speech about a dastardly foe would omit a reference from Matthew 26: 48 to Judas Iscariot and his Betrayal of Jesus with a kiss! Henry did just that when he exclaimed, “Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss.”
Matthew 26:48
“Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he: hold him fast.”
In addition to the Biblical references, the brilliant orator added many flourishes from classical antiquity to his screed. Just as with the Bible, his audience was steeped in the canon of Greek and Roman literature. The immortal closing line of his oration was itself a phrase borrowed from the popular 1713 English play “Cato, A Tragedy,” about a heroic Roman who defied Julius Caesar and the depraved political establishment.
Henry’s bold and rousing speech struck just the right tone for the majority of those at the convention, for his resolutions, which included raising a militia and preparing for war, were adopted. He was also honored by being elected chair of the body charged with preparing for the defense of Virginia.
Henry was not given to recording his missives for the benefit of posterity. His most famous speech is no exception. William Wirt, an early biographer of Patrick Henry, reconstructed the text of the speech, which most historians believed to be highly accurate.
Below is the speech as reconstructed by William Wirt (1772-1834):
“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 for 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 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!”
