TO THE READER

THE ORATOR OF THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE

A Surprise to All

In 1765, there was an important meeting of the House of Burgesses of Virginia, as the lawmaking body of that Colony was called. They had come together to debate upon a great question, that of the Stamp Act passed by the British Parliament for the taxation of the Colonies.

Most of the members were opposed to it, but they were timid and doubtful, and dreadfully afraid of saying or doing something that might offend the King. They talked all round the subject, but were as afraid to come close to it as if it had been a chained wolf.

They were almost ready to adjourn, with nothing done, when a tall and slender young man, a new and insignificant member whom few knew, rose in his seat, and began to speak upon the subject.

Some of the rich and aristocratic members looked upon him with indignation. What did this nobody mean in meddling with so weighty a subject as that before them, and which they had already fully debated? But their indignation did not trouble the young man.

He began by offering a series of resolutions, in which he maintained that only the Burgesses and the Governor had the right to tax the People, and that the Stamp Act was contrary to the Constitution of the Colony, and therefore was void.

This was a bold resolution. No one else had dared to go so far. It scared many of the members, and a great storm of opposition arose, but the young man would not yield.

He began to speak, and soon there was flowing from his lips a stream of eloquence that took every one by surprise. Never had such glowing words been heard in that old hall. His force and enthusiasm shook the whole Assembly.

Finally wrought up to the highest pitch of indignant Patriotism, he thundered out the memorable words:—

“CÆsar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third—”

“Treason! Treason!” cried some of the excited members.

But the orator went on:

“—may profit by their example. If this be Treason, make the most of it!”

His boldness carried the day. His words were irresistible. The resolutions were adopted. Virginia took a decided stand.

And Patrick Henry, the orator, from that time was of first rank among American speakers.

A zealous and daring Patriot, he had made himself a power among the People.

A Failure that was a Success

Who was this man that had dared hurl defiance at the King?

A few years before he had been looked upon as one of the most insignificant of men, a failure in everything he undertook, an awkward, ill-dressed, slovenly, lazy fellow, who could not even speak the king’s English correctly. He was little better than a tavern lounger, most of his time being spent in hunting and fishing, in playing the flute and violin, and in telling amusing stories.

He had tried farming and failed. He had made a pretense of studying law, and gained admittance to the bar, though his legal knowledge was very slight. Having almost nothing to do in the law, he spent most of his time helping about the tavern at Hanover Court House, kept by his father-in-law, who supported him and his family, for he had married early.

One day there came up a case in court which all of the leading lawyers had refused. What was the surprise of the people, when the story went around that Patrick Henry had offered himself on the defendants’ side. His taking up the case was a joke to most of them, and a general burst of laughter followed the news. Yet Patrick Henry won the case!

He was a made man. He no longer had to lounge in his office waiting for business. Plenty of it came to him. He set himself for the first time to an earnest study of the law. He improved his command of language, the dormant powers of his mind rapidly unfolded. Two years after pleading his first case, he was elected a member of the House of Burgesses.

We have seen how, in this body, he “set the ball of the Revolution rolling.”

Give me Liberty or Give me Death!

Patrick Henry, in his spirit-stirring oration before the House of Burgesses, had put himself on record for all time. His defiance of the King stamped him as a warrior who had thrown his shield away and thenceforward would fight only with the sword.

The Patriot leaders welcomed him. He worked with Thomas Jefferson and others upon the Committee of Correspondence, which sought to spread the story of political events through the Colonies. He was sent to Philadelphia as a member of the first Continental Congress. In fact, he became one of the most active and ardent of American Patriots.

It was in 1775 that Patrick Henry, in a convention, presented resolutions in favour of an open appeal to arms. To this the more timid spirits made strong opposition. The fight at Lexington had not yet taken place, but Henry’s prophetic gaze saw it coming. In a burst of flaming eloquence, he laid bare the tyranny of Parliament and King, declared that there was nothing left but to fight, and ended with an outburst thrilling in its force and intensity:—

“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!”

Charles Morris (Condensed)

FACING DANGER

It was the last day of August, 1774. The Potomac was flowing lazily past Mount Vernon. The door of the large mansion on the high river-bank stood open. Before it were three horses saddled and bridled. Three men came out of the house.

One was George Washington, large, handsome, resolute, dressed for a long journey. With him, was a tall, angular, raw-boned man, slightly stooping, carelessly dressed, whose dark, deep-set eyes flashed with peculiar brilliance. The third man was equally striking in appearance, well-proportioned and graceful, his face serene and thoughtful.

The tall raw-boned man with deep glowing eyes, was Patrick Henry; the elegant stranger, Edmund Pendleton. They were two of Virginia’s most devoted Patriots.

As the three vaulted into their saddles, Washington’s wife stood in the open doorway, trying to conceal her anxiety for him under a cheerful manner. Her heart was very heavy. But as the three gave spurs to their horses, she called out:—

“God be with you, Gentlemen!”

And so they rode away. It was dangerous business on which they were bent, as Martha Washington well knew. They were going to attend the First Continental Congress at Philadelphia. They were about to defy England.

But the three rode away from Mount Vernon fearlessly, with her words ringing in their ears:—

“God be with you, Gentlemen!”