March 23, 1775
Events in Boston had inevitable repercussions. Parliament could not accept any act that would deny its absolute supremacy over the colonies. Since the Stamp Act was repealed, and the Declaratory Act passed, Parliament had sought in vain for the colonial governments to acknowledge Parliament’s right to legislate for them “in all cases whatsoever.” The Tea Party was a direct defiance of this presumed authority, and Parliament responded by ordering the Port of Boston closed and cordoned by naval firepower.
Needless to say, this only served to exacerbate tensions among Bostonians; but it also sent a clear message to the other Colonies, that Parliament would not hesitate to hinder trade, commerce, and the livelihood of the colonists simply to prove a point.
In the Virginia House of Burgesses, on May 24, 1774, the people ordered that the first day of June–the same day Boston’s port would be closed–
“be set apart, by the Members of this House, as a day of Fasting, Humiliation, and Prayer, devoutly to implore the divine interposition, for averting the heavy Calamity which threatens destruction to our Civil Rights, and the Evils of civil War; to give us one heart and one Mind firmly to oppose, by all just and proper means, every injury to American Rights; and that the Minds of his Majesty, and his Parliament, may be inspired from above with Wisdom, Moderation, and Justice, to remove from the loyal People of America all cause of danger, from a continued pursuit of Measures pregnant with their ruin.”
Lord Dunmore, governor of Virginia, took great offense to this, and ordered the Parliament dissolved two days later, so they could never officially solemnize the occasion. It would be over a year before the Assembly would meet again. During this time, the commission of courts expired, obstructing justice throughout Virginia, citizens had no recourse for petition, and they had no way to grant their property for the general security of the colony–all during a time in which tensions against parliamentary and ministerial authority were growing. Patrick Henry stated to the Continental Congress that not only were the burgesses dissolved, but “all government is dissolved, [and] we are reduced to a state of nature.”[1]
In response, Virginians took it into their own hands to convene an extralegal assembly, which they called the Virginia Convention. They first met in August of 1774, where they appointed delegates to the Continental Congress, resolved to boycott most goods imported from Great Britain, and pledged their property to assist the cause in Massachusetts.[2]
Their second meeting, beginning March 20, 1775, had a pre-eminent focus: whether or not to arm the citizenry and assume a posture of defense against an encroaching army. King George III had declared in his speech to parliament that the colonies had “countenanced and encouraged” violence and criminality, and that “unwarrantable attempts have been made to obstruct the commerce of this kingdom by unlawful combinations [boycotts made by the extralegal conventions].” These terms had legal implications. Though they were just short of declaring the colonies in open rebellion (which would have amounted to a declaration of civil war), they were enough to cause fear among colonists that more of the king’s troops were coming to police against criminality and “unwarrantable acts” of refusing to purchase British goods.[3]
Colonies began arming themselves, and urging their sister colonies to do likewise. Counties throughout Virginia (including Fairfax, where George Washington presided) had initiated their militias and began procuring arms and powder. But for some reason, there were objections to a resolution in the Virginia Convention, brought forth on March 23, 1775, that “a well regulated Militia, composed of Gentlemen and Yeomen, is the natural strength, and only Security, of a free Government; that such a Militia in this Colony would forever render it unnecessary for the Mother Country to keep among us…any standing Army of mercenary Forces,” and that” this colony be immediately put into a posture of defence…[and] to prepare a plan for the embodying[,] arming and disciplining such a number of men as may be sufficient for that purpose.”[4]
There was enough objection in this convention that bringing the proposal immediately to a vote could have jeopardized the outcome. And it was during this debate that Patrick Henry gave his famous stirring speech, in which he lambasted gentlemen clinging only to hope for the prospect of a better life.
William Wirt, beginning in 1805, compiled as much information on Patrick Henry as he could, but no one had recorded the exact speech given by Henry on March 23, 1775–the speech that would not only convince Virginia to arms, but would become a rallying cry for freedom-loving peoples throughout the world. Nevertheless, he did interview people in attendance, and was able to piece together an oration worthy of Cato of Utica:
“Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth–and listen to the song of that syren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty?… 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…And what have we to oppose [British forces]? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years…We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable, but it has been all in vain….
“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?…
“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….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 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.“[5]
As an audience entranced by such a beautiful and powerful symphony, the convention sat in stunned silence, until someone, casting off the spell, became capable of applause. Once the silence was broken, the applause and cheers grew until shouts of “Liberty!“and “To Arms!” echoed throughout the halls of St. John’s Church in Richmond.
The resolution passed, Virginia–through an extralegal convention–was armed, and in twenty-seven days, the first shots were indeed fired between British troops and American colonists.
Virginia was ready.
[1] Henry Mayer, A Son of Thunder: Patrick Henry and the American Republic (New York, NY: Franklin Watts, 1986), 212-213.
[2] William James Van Schreeven, Robert L Scribner, and Brent Tarter, eds. Revolutionary Virginia, the Road to Independence, 8 vols. (Charlottesville, VA: UVA Press, 1973).
[3] The Parliamentary History of England, from the Earliest Period to the Year 1803 (London: T.C. Hansard, 1813), 33.
[4] Journal of the Proceedings of the Convention held at Richmond, in the County of Henrico, on the 20th Day of March, 1775 (Williamsburg, VA: J. Dixon and W. Hunter, 1775). Microfiche.
[5] William Wirt, Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry, seventh edition (New York: McElrath, Bangs, & Co., 1834), 138-141. Ray Raphael (Founding Myths) has gone to great lengths to argue that Patrick Henry never said “give me liberty, or give me death.” While it is possible that Wirt’s sources (or even Wirt himself) either recollected incorrectly or romanticized the speech, that Patrick Henry did say the words that defined his life, is repeated by independent sources. Additionally, it would be a mistake to treat highly intelligent statesmen from the 18th century as incapable of memorizing long passages of oration, even after only hearing it once. It would take another article to pick apart Mr. Raphael’s argument.
