Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death
by Patrick Henry
March 23, 1775
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
ubject 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 but 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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