GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH

GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH

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 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 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!