"Let us prize our freedom; but not use our liberty for a cloak of maliciousness"
About this Quote
Freedom is the colonial-era sermon’s favorite flame: bright enough to rally a crowd, dangerous enough to scorch the hands holding it. Jonathan Mayhew’s line works because it refuses the easy heroism of liberty talk. He gives his listeners the intoxicant ("prize our freedom") and then immediately cuts it with a moral warning: liberty can be weaponized, and people love to call it principle when it’s really spite.
Mayhew, a Boston clergyman writing in the decades before revolution, is speaking into a culture that was learning to speak the language of rights while still living inside dense webs of obligation: to neighbors, to church discipline, to civic order, and yes, to the crown. His intent is not to dampen resistance but to police its motives. In a moment when anti-authoritarian rhetoric could slide into mob appetite, he draws a line between principled dissent and what today we’d call bad-faith freedom. The biblical phrasing of "cloak" matters: it implies concealment, performance, a costume that lets vice pass as virtue.
The subtext is pointedly communal. Mayhew isn’t only warning would-be rebels; he’s warning the self-righteous. A society can demand liberty and still rot from within if liberty becomes a license for cruelty, slander, or factional revenge. He anticipates a recurring American problem: treating freedom as a get-out-of-ethics card, where the loudest invocation of rights masks the smallest sense of responsibility.
In that way the sentence is less a slogan than a safeguard, trying to keep the cause of freedom from being hijacked by the pleasures of malice.
Mayhew, a Boston clergyman writing in the decades before revolution, is speaking into a culture that was learning to speak the language of rights while still living inside dense webs of obligation: to neighbors, to church discipline, to civic order, and yes, to the crown. His intent is not to dampen resistance but to police its motives. In a moment when anti-authoritarian rhetoric could slide into mob appetite, he draws a line between principled dissent and what today we’d call bad-faith freedom. The biblical phrasing of "cloak" matters: it implies concealment, performance, a costume that lets vice pass as virtue.
The subtext is pointedly communal. Mayhew isn’t only warning would-be rebels; he’s warning the self-righteous. A society can demand liberty and still rot from within if liberty becomes a license for cruelty, slander, or factional revenge. He anticipates a recurring American problem: treating freedom as a get-out-of-ethics card, where the loudest invocation of rights masks the smallest sense of responsibility.
In that way the sentence is less a slogan than a safeguard, trying to keep the cause of freedom from being hijacked by the pleasures of malice.
Quote Details
| Topic | Freedom |
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