Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death
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 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 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!
Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775.
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