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Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death
March 23, 1775
By Patrick Henry
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 the 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 numbers 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 gentlement 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 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 extentuate 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!
