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Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry
Wirt, William
Philadelphia
Published by James Webster
1817
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[Spine Image]
PUBLISHED BY J. WEBSTER.
PATRICK HENRY.
[Frontispiece Image]
[Title Page Image]
BY
"In quo hoc maximum est, quod neque ante illum, quem ille imitaretur, neque post illum, qui eum imitari posset, inventus est." PATERC. lib i. cap v.
District of Pennsylvania, to wit:
BE IT REMEMBERED, That, on the eleventh day of October, in the forty-second year of the Independence of the United States of America, A. D. 1817, James Webster, of the said District, hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit:
"Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry. By William Wirt, of
"Richmond, Virginia. In quo hoc maximum est, quod neque ante illum,
"quem ille imitaretur, neque post illum, qui eum imitari posset, inventus
"est. Paterc. lib. i. cap. v."
In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled "An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned."--And also to the act, entitled "An act supplementary to an act, entitled 'An act for the encouragement of learning by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned,' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints."
D. CALDWELL,
Clerk of the district of Pennsylvania.
TO
THE YOUNG MEN OF VIRGINIA,
THIS WORK
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY
THE AUTHOR.
The reader has a right to know what degree of credit is due to the following narrative; and it is the object of this preface to give him that satisfaction.
It was in the summer of 1805 that the design of writing this biography was first conceived. It was produced by an incident of feeling, which however it affected the author at the time, might now, be thought light and trivial by the reader, and he shall not therefore, be detained by the recital of it. The author knew nothing of Mr. Henry, personally. He had never seen him; and was of course, compelled to rely wholly on the information of others. As soon, therefore, as the design was formed of writing his life, aware of the necessity of losing no time, in collecting, from the few remaining coevals of Mr. Henry, that personal knowledge of the subject which might erelong be expected to die with them, the author despatched letters to every quarter of the state in which it occurred to him as probable, that interesting matter might be found; and he was gratified by the prompt attention which was paid to his inquiries.
There were at that time, living in the county of Hanover, three gentlemen of the first respectability, who had been the companions of Mr. Henry's childhood and youth: these were, col. Charles Dabney, capt. George Dabney, and col. William O. Winston; the two first of whom are still living. Not having the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with these gentlemen, the author interested the late Mr. Nathaniel Pope in his object, and by his instrumentality, procured all the useful information which was in their possession. Mr. Pope is well known to have been a gentleman of uncommonly vigorous and discriminating mind; a sacred observer of truth, and a man of the purest sense of honour. The author cannot recal the memory of this most amiable and excellent man, to whom (if there be any merit in this work) the friends of Mr. Henry and the state of Virginia owe so many obligations, without paying to that revered memory, the tribute of his respect and affection. Mr. Pope was one of those ardent young Virginians, who embarked, before they had attained their maturity, in the cause of the American revolution: he joined an animated and active corps of horse, and signalized himself by an impetuous gallantry, which drew upon him the eyes and the applause of his commander. In peace, he was as mild as he had been brave in war; his bosom
was replete with the kindest affections; he was in truth, one of the best of companions, and one of the warmest of friends. The fact, that he was the acknowledged head of the several bars at which he practised in the country, may assure the reader of his capacity for the commission which he so cheerfully undertook, in regard to Mr. Henry; and the unblemished integrity of his life may assure him also, of the fidelity with which that commission was executed. So many important anecdotes in the following work, depend on the credit of this gentleman as a witness, that the slight sketch which has been given of his character will not, it is hoped, be thought foreign to the purpose of this preface. Mr. Pope did not confine his inquiries to the county of Hanover: he was indefatigable in collecting information from every quarter; which he never accepted however, but from the purest sources; and his authority for every incident was given, with the most scrupulous accuracy. The author had hoped to have had it in his power to gratify this gentleman by submitting to his view the joint result of their labours, and obtaining the benefit of his last corrections; but he was disappointed by his untimely and melancholy death. He fell a victim to that savage practice, which under the false name of honour, continued to prevail too long;
and his death is believed to have been highly instrumental in hastening that system of legislation in restraint of this practice, which now exists in Virginia.
Besides the contributions furnished by Mr. Pope, the writer derived material aid from various other quarters. The widow of Mr. Henry was still living, and had intermarried with judge Winston: from this gentleman, (who was also related to Mr. Henry by blood, and had been intimately acquainted with him through the far greater part of his life) the author received a succinct, but extremely accurate and comprehensive memoir.
Col. Meredith of Amherst, was a few years older than Mr. Henry, had been raised in the same neighbourhood, and had finally married one of his sisters. Having known Mr. Henry, from his birth to his death, he had it in his power to supply very copious details, which were taken down from his narration by the present judge Cabell, and forwarded to the author.
One of the most intimate and confidential friends of Mr. Henry, was the late judge Tyler. The judge had a kind of Roman frankness and even bluntness in his manners, together with a decision of character and a benevolence of spirit, which had attached Mr. Henry to him, from his first appearance on the public stage. They were, for a long time, members of the house of
delegates together, and their friendship continued until it was severed by death. From judge Tyler, the author received a very minute and interesting communication of incidents, the whole of which had either passed in his own presence, or had been related to him by Mr. Henry himself.
The writer is indebted to judge Tucker for two or three of his best incidents; one of them will probably, be pronounced the most interesting passage of the work. He owes to the same gentleman too, the fullest and liveliest description of the person of Mr. Henry, which has been furnished from any quarter: and he stands farther indebted to him for a rare and (to the purpose of this work) a very important book; the journals of the house of burgesses for the years 1763-4-5-6 and 7.
From judge Roane, the author has received one of the fairest and most satisfactory communications that has been made to him; and the vigour and elegance with which that gentleman writes, has frequently enabled the author, to relieve the dulness of his own narrative, by extracts from his statements.
Mr. Jefferson too, has exercised his well known kindness and candour on this occasion; having not only favoured the author with a very full communication in the first instance; but assisted him, subsequently and
repeatedly, with his able counsel, in reconciling apparent contradictions, and clearing away difficulties of fact.
Besides these statements, drawn from the memory of his correspondents, the writer was favoured by the late Governor Page, with the reading of a pretty extended sketch which he had, himself, prepared of the life of Mr. Henry; and he has, furthermore, availed himself of the kind permission of Mr. Peyton Randolph, to examine an extremely valuable manuscript history of Virginia, written by his father, the late Mr. Edmund Randolph; which embraces the whole period of Mr. Henry's public life.
In addition to these stores of information, the author has had the good fortune to procure complete files of the public newspapers, reaching from the year 1763 down to the close of the American revolution; by these, he has been enabled to correct, in some important instances, the memory of his correspondents, in relation not only to dates, but to facts themselves.
He has been fortunate too, in having procured several original letters which shed much light on important and hitherto disputed facts, in the life of Mr. Henry.
The records of the general court, and the archives of the state having been convenient to the author, and always open to him, he has endeavoured assiduously
and carefully, to avail himself of that certain and permanent evidence which they afford; and has been enabled, by this means, as the reader will discover, to correct some strange mistakes in historical facts.
The author's correspondents will find, that he has departed in some instances, from their respective statements, and he owes them an explanation for having done so: the explanation is this; their statements were, in several instances, diametrically opposed to each other; and were sometimes, all contradicted by the public prints, or the records of the state. It ought not to be matter of surprise that these contradictions should exist, even among those most respectable gentlemen, relying as they did, upon human memory merely; and speaking of events so very remote, without a previous opportunity of communicating with each other. It will be seen by them, that the author has been obliged in several instances, to contradict even the several histories of the times, concerning which he writes: but this he has never done, without the most decisive proofs of his own correctness, which he has always cited: nor has he ever departed from the narratives of his several correspondents, except under the direction of preponderating evidence. As among those contradictory statements, all could not be true, he has sought the correction by
public documents when such correction was attainable; and when it was not, he has selected among his narrators, those, whose opportunities to know the fact in question, seemed to be the best. This he has done, without the slightest intention to throw a shadow of suspicion on the credit of any gentleman, who has been so obliging as to answer his inquiries; but merely from the necessity which he was under, either of making some selection, or abandoning the work altogether; and because he knew of no better rule of selection, than that which he has adopted.
Although it has been so long since the collection of these materials was begun, it was not until the summer of 1814 that the last communication was received. Even then, when the author sat down to the task of embodying his materials, there were so many intricacies to disentangle, and so many inconsistencies, from time to time, to explain and settle, and that too, through the tedious agency of cross-mails, that his progress was continually impeded, and has been, to him, most painfully, retarded.
Other causes too, have contributed to delay the publication. The author is a practising lawyer; and the courts which he attends, keep him perpetually and exclusively occupied, in that attendance, through ten months of the year: nor does the summer recess, of
two months, afford a remission from professional labour. In Virginia, the duties of attorney, counsellor, conveyancer, and advocate, are all performed by the same individual; hence the summer vacation, instead of being a time of leisure, is not only the season of preparation for the approaching courts, but is subject moreover, to a perpetual recurrence of what are here called office duties, which renders a steady application to any other subject impossible.
These sketches, are now submitted to the public, with unaffected diffidence; not of the facts which they detail, for on them, the author has the firmest reliance; but of the manner in which he has been able to accomplish his undertaking. For (to say nothing of his inexperience and want of ability for such a work) he has been compelled to write (when he was suffered to write at all) amidst that incessant professional annoyance which has been mentioned, and which is known by every man, who has ever made the trial, to forbid the hope of success in any composition of this extent. Could the writer have looked forward, with any reasonable calculation, to a period of greater ease, his respect for the memory of Mr. Henry, as well as his regard for himself would have induced him to suspend this undertaking, until that period should have arrived. But having
no ground for any hope of this kind, he has thought it better to hazard even these crude sketches, than to suffer the materials which he had accumulated with so much toil, and for all object which he thought so laudable, to perish on his hands.
These remarks are not made with the view of deprecating the censures of critics by profession: but merely to bespeak the candour of that larger portion of readers who are willing to be pleased with the best efforts that can be reasonably expected, from the circumstances of the case. The author however, is well satisfied, that the most indulgent reader (although benevolently disposed to overlook defects of execution) will be certainly disappointed in the matter itself, of this work; for notwithstanding all his exertions, he is entirely conscious that the materials which he has been able to collect are scanty and meagre, and utterly disproportionate to the great fame of Mr. Henry. It is probable, that much of what was once known of him, had perished before the author commenced his researches; and it is very possible that much may still be known, which he has not been able to discover; because it lies in unsuspected sources, or with persons unwilling for some reason or other to communicate their information. It is the conviction that he has not been able to inform himself of the whole
events of Mr. Henry's life, and that his collection can be considered only as so many detached SKETCHES, which has induced him to prefix this name to his book. If, in this humble and unassuming character, it shall give any pleasure to the numerous admirers of Mr. Henry, in Virginia, the author will have attained all that he has a right to expect.
RICHMOND, Virginia,
Sept. 5th, 1817.
PATRICK HENRY, the second son of John and Sarah Henry, and one of nine children, was born on the 29th of May 1736, at the family seat, called Studley, in the county of Hanover and colony of Virginia. In his early childhood, his parents removed to another seat in the same county, then called Mount Brilliant, now the Retreat; at which latter place, Patrick Henry was raised and educated. His parents, though not rich, were in easy circumstances; and, in point of personal character, were among the most respectable inhabitants of the colony.
His father, col. John Henry, was a native of Aberdeen, in Scotland. He was, it is said, a first cousin to David Henry, who was the brother-in-law and successor of Edward Cave, in the publication of that celebrated work, The Gentleman's Magazine, and, himself, the author of several literary tracts: John Henry, is, also said to have been a nephew, in the maternal line, to the great historian Dr. William Robertson. He came over to Virginia, in quest of fortune, some time prior to the year 1730, and
the tradition is, that he enjoyed the friendship and patronage of Mr. Dinwiddie, afterwards the governor of the colony. By this gentleman, it is reported, that he was introduced to the elder col. Syme of Hanover, in whose family, it is certain, that he became domesticated during the life of that gentleman, after whose death, he intermarried with his widow, and resided on the estate which he had left. It is considered as a fair proof of the personal merit of Mr. John Henry, that, in those days, when offices were bestowed with peculiar caution, he was the colonel of his regiment, the principal surveyor of the county, and for many years, the presiding magistrate of the county court. His surviving acquaintances concur in stating, that he was a man of liberal education, that he possessed a plain, yet solid understanding; and lived long a life of the most irreproachable integrity, and exemplary piety. His brother Patrick, a clergyman of the church of Engand, followed him to this country some years afterwards; and became, by his influence, the minister of St. Paul's parish in Hanover, the functions of which office he sustained throughout life with great respectability. Both the brothers were zealous members of the established church, and warmly attached to the reigning family. Col. John Henry was conspicuously so: "there are those yet alive," says a correspondent, * "who have seen him, at the head of his regiment, celebrating the birth day of George the III. with as much enthusiasm, as his son Patrick, afterwards, displayed, in resisting the encroachment of that monarch." †
Mrs. Henry, the widow of col. Syme, as we have seen,
* Mr. Pope, in 1805. † Mr. Burk's account of Mr. Henry is extremely careless and full of
errors. He begins by making him the son of his uncle: "Patrick Henry, the
son of a Scotch gentleman of the same name, &c." 3d vol. of the History of
Virginia, page 300.
and the mother of Patrick Henry, was a native of Hanover County, and of the family of Winstons. She possessed, in an eminent degree, the mild and benevolent disposition, the undeviating probity, the correct understanding and easy elocution by which that ancient family has been so long distinguished. Her brother William, the father of the present judge Winston, is said to have been highly endowed with that peculiar cast of eloquence, for which Mr. Henry became, afterwards, so justly celebrated. Of this gentleman I have an anecdote from a correspondent, * which I shall give in his own words. "I have often heard my father, who was intimately acquainted with this William Winston, say, that he was the greatest orator whom he ever heard, Patrick Henry excepted; that during the last French and Indian war, and soon after Braddock's defeat, when the militia were marched to the frontiers of Virginia, against the enemy, this William Winston was the lieutenant of a company; that the men, who were indifferently clothed, without tents, and exposed to the rigour and inclemency of the weather, discovered great aversion to the service, and were anxious and even clamorous to return to their families; when this William Winston, mounting a stump, (the common rostrum, you know, of the field orator of Virginia,) addressed them with such keenness of invective, and declaimed with such force of eloquence, on liberty and patriotism, that when he concluded, the general cry was, 'let us march on; lead us against the enemy;' and they were now willing, nay anxious to encounter all those difficulties and dangers, which, but a few moments before, had almost produced a mutiny."
Thus much I have been able to collect of the parentage
* Mr. Pope.
and family of Mr. Henry; and this, I presume, will be thought quite sufficient, in relation to a man, who owed no part of his greatness to the lustre of his pedigree, but was, in truth, the sole founder of his own fortunes.
Until ten years of age, Patrick Henry was sent to a school in the neighbourhood, where he learned to read and write, and made some small prowess in arithmetic. He was, then, taken home, and under the direction of his father; who had opened a grammar school in his own house, he acquired a superficial knowledge of the Latin language; and learned to read the character, but never to translate Greek. At the same time, he made a considerable proficiency in the mathematics, the only branch of education for which, it seems, he discovered, in his youth, the slightest predilection. But he was too idle to gain any solid advantage from the opportunities which were thrown in his way. He was passionately addicted to the sports of the field, and could not support the confinement and toil which education required. Hence, instead of system or any semblance of regularity in his studies, his efforts were always desultory, and became more and more rare; until, at length, when the hour of his school exercises arrived, Patrick was scarcely ever to be found. He was in the forest with his gun, or over the brook with his angle-rod; and, in these frivolous occupations, when not controuled by the authority of his father, (which was rarely exerted,) he would, it is said, spend whole days and weeks, with an appetite rather whetted than cloyed by enjoyment. His school fellows, having observed his growing passion for those amusements, and having remarked that its progress was not checked either by the want of companions or the want of
success, have frequently watched his movements to discover, if they could, the secret source of that delight which they seemed to afford him. But they made no discovery which led them to any other conclusion than (to use their own expression) "that he loved idleness for its own sake." They have frequently observed him laying along, under the shade of some tree that overhung the sequestered stream, watching, for hours, at the same spot, the motionless cork of his fishing line, without one encouraging symptom of success, and without any apparent source of enjoyment, unless he could find it in the ease of his posture, or in the illusions of hope, or, which is most probable, in the stillness of the scene and the silent workings of his own imagination. This love of solitude, in his youth, was often observed. Even when hunting with a party, his choice was not to join the noisy band that drove the deer; he preferred to take his stand, alone, where he might wait for the passing game, and indulge himself, meanwhile, in the luxury of thinking. Not that he was averse to society; on the contrary, he had, at times, a very high zest for it. But even in society, his enjoyments while young, were of a peculiar cast; he did not mix in the wild mirth of his equals in age; but sat, quiet and demure, taking no part in the conversation, giving no responsive smile to the circulating jest, but lost, to all appearance, in silence and abstraction. This abstraction, however, was only apparent; for on the dispersion of a company, when interrogated by his parents as to what had been passing, he was able not only to detail the conversation, but to sketch, with strict fidelity, the character of every speaker. None of these early delineations of character are retained by his cotemporaries; and, indeed, they are said to have been more remarkable for their justness, than for any peculiar felicity of execution.
I cannot learn that he gave, in his youth, any evidence of that precocity which sometimes distinguishes uncommon genius. His companions recollect no instance of premature wit, no striking sentiment, no flash of fancy, no remarkable beauty or strength of expression; find no indication, however slight, either of that impassioned love of liberty, or of that adventurous daring and intrepidity, which marked, so strongly, his future character. So far was he, indeed, from exhibiting any one prognostic of his greatness, that every omen foretold a life, at best of mediocrity, if not of insignificance. His person is represented as having been coarse, his manners uncommonly awkward, his dress slovenly, his conversation very plain, his aversion to study invincible, and his faculties almost entirely benumbed by indolence. No persuasion could bring him either to read or to work. On the contrary, he ran wild in the forest, like one of the aborigines of the country, and divided his life between the dissipation and uproar of the chase, and the languor of inaction.
His propensity to observe and comment upon the human character, was, so far as I can learn, the only circumstance, which distinguished him, advantageously, from his youthful companions. This propensity seems to have been born with him, and to have exerted itself, instinctively, the moment that a new subject was presented to his view. Its action was incessant, and it became, at length, almost the only intellectual exercise in which he seemed to take delight. To this cause may be traced that consummate knowledge of the human heart which he finally attained, and which enabled him, when he came upon the public stage, to touch the springs of passion with a master-hand, and to controul the resolutions and decisions of his hearers, with a power, almost more than mortal.
From what has been already stated, it will be seen, how little education had to do with the formation of this great man's mind. He was, indeed, a mere child of nature, and nature seems to have been too proud and too jealous of her work, to permit it to be touched by the hand of art. She gave him Shakespeare's genius, and bade him, like Shakspeare, to depend on that alone. Let not the youthful reader, however, deduce, from the example of Mr. Henry, an argument in favour of indolence and the contempt of study. Let him remember that the powers which surmounted the disadvantage of those early habits, were such as very rarely appear upon this earth. Let him remember, too, how long the genius, even of Mr. Henry, was kept down and hidden from the public view, by the sorcery of those pernicious habits; through what years of poverty and wretchedness they doomed him to struggle; and, let him remember; that at length, when in the zenith of his glory, Mr. Henry himself, had frequent occasions to deplore the consequences of his early neglect of literature, and to bewail "the ghosts of his departed hours."
His father, unable to sustain, with convenience, the expense of so large a family as was now multiplying on his hands, found it necessary to qualify his sons, at a very early age, to support themselves. With this view, Patrick was placed, at the age of fifteen, behind the counter of a merchant in the country. How he conducted himself in this situation, I have not been able to learn. There could not, however, I presume, have been any flagrant impropriety in his conduct, since, in the next year, his father considered him qualified to carry on business, on his own account. Under this impression, he purchased a small adventure of goods for
his two sons, William and Patrick, and, according to the language of the country, "set them up in trade." William's habits of idleness were, if possible, still more unfortunate than Patrick's. The chief management of their concerns devolved, therefore, on the younger brother, and that management seems to have been most wretched.
Left to himself, all the indolence of his character returned. Those unfortunate habits which he had formed, and whose spell was already, too strong to be broken, comported very poorly with that close attention, that accuracy and persevering vigour, which are essential to the merchant. The drudgery of retailing and of book-keeping soon became intolerable; yet he was obliged to preserve appearances by remaining, continually, at his stand. Besides these unpropitious habits, there was still another obstacle to his success, in the natural kindness of his temper. "He could not find it in his heart" to disappoint any one who came to him for credit; and he was very easily satisfied by apologies for non-payment. He condemned, in himself, this facility of temper, and foresaw the embarrassments with which it threatened him; but he was unable to overcome it. Even with the best prospects, the confinement of such a business would have been scarcely supportable; but with those which now threatened him, his store became a prison. To make the matter still worse, the joys of the chase, joys now to him forbidden, echoed around him every morning, and by their contrast, and the longings which they excited, contributed to deepen the disgust which he had taken to his employments.
From these painful reflections, and the gloomy forebodings which darkened the future, he sought, at first, a refuge in music, for which it seems he had a natural
taste, and he learned to play well on the violin and on the flute. From music he passed to books, and, having procured a few light and elegant authors, acquired, for the first time, a relish for reading.
He found another relief, too, in the frequent opportunities now afforded him of pursuing his favourite study of the human character. The character of every customer underwent this scrutiny; and that, not with reference either to the integrity or solvency of the individual, in which one would suppose that Mr. Henry would feel himself most interested; but in relation to the structure of his mind, the general cast of his opinions, the motives and principles which influenced his actions, and what may be called the philosophy of character. In pursuing these investigations, he is said to have resorted to arts, apparently so far above his years, and which look so much like an after-thought, resulting from his future eminence, that I should hesitate to make the statement, were it not attested by so many witnesses, and by some who cannot be suspected of the capacity for having fabricated the fact. Their account of it, then, is this; that whenever a company of his customers met in the store, (which frequently happened on the last day of the week) and were, themselves, sufficiently gay and animated to talk and act as nature prompted, without concealment, without reserve, he would take no part in their discussions, but listen with a silence as deep and attentive, as if under the influence of some potent charm. If, on the contrary, they were dull and silent, he would, without betraying his drift, task himself to set them in motion, and excite them to remark, collision, and exclamation. He was peculiarly delighted with comparing their characters, and ascertaining how they would, severally, act, in given situations. With this view he would state an
hypothetic case, and call for their opinions, one by one, as to the conduct which would be proper in it. If they differed, he would demand their reasons, and enjoy highly, the debates in which he would thus involve them. By multiplying and varying those imaginary cases at pleasure, he ascertained the general course of human opinion, and formed, for himself, as it were, a graduated scale of the motives and conduct which are natural to man. Sometimes he would entertain them with stories, gathered from his reading, or, as was more frequently the case, drawn from his own fancy, composed of heterogeneous circumstances, calculated to excite, by turns, pity, terror, resentment, indignation, contempt; pausing, in the turns of his narrative, to observe the effect; to watch the different modes in which the passions expressed themselves, and learn the language of emotion from those children of nature.
In these exercises, Mr. Henry could have had nothing in view beyond the present gratification of a natural propensity. The advantages of them, however, were far more permanent, and gave the brightest colours to his future life. For those continual efforts to render himself intelligible to his plain and unlettered hearers, on subjects entirely new to them, taught him that clear and simple style which forms the best vehicle of thought to a popular assembly; which his attempts to interest and affect them, in order that he might hear from them the echo of nature's voice, instructed him in those topics of persuasion by which men were the most certainly to be moved, and in the kind of imagery and structure of language, which were the best fitted to strike and agitate their hearts. These constituted his excellences as an orator; and never was there a man, in any age, who possessed, in a more eminent degree, the lucid and
nervous style of argument, the command of the most beautiful and striking imagery, or that language of passion which burns from soul to soul.
In the mean time, the business of the store was rushing headlong, to its catastrophe. One year put an end to it. William was then thrown loose upon society, to which he was never, afterwards, usefully attached; * and Patrick was engaged, for the two or three following years, in winding up this disastrous experiment as well as he could.
His misfortunes, however, seem not to have had the
effect either of teaching him prudence or of chilling his
affections. For, at the early age of eighteen, we find
him married to a miss Shelton, the daughter of an honest
farmer in the neighbourhood, but in circumstances too
poor to contribute effectually to her support. By the
joint assistance of their parents, however, the young
couple were settled on a small farm, and, here, with the
assistance of one or two slaves, Mr. Henry had to delve
the earth, with his own hands, for subsistence. Such
are the vicissitudes of human life! It is curious to
contemplate this giant genius, destined in a few years to
guide the councils of a mighty nation, but unconscious
of the intellectual treasures which he possessed, encumbered,
at the early age of eighteen, with the cares of a
family; obscure, unknown and almost unpitied; digging,
with wearied limbs and with an aching heart, a small
* I have seen an original letter from col. John Henry to his son William, in
which he remonstrates with him on his wild and dissipated course of life.
There is reason to believe, however, that at a later period, he may have
reformed, since a gentleman, to whom the manuscript of this work was submitted,
notes on this passage, that when he was at college at Williamsburg, he
recollects to have seen William Henry a member of the assembly, from the
county of Fluvanna; that he was called colonel, and was, he afterwards
understood, pretty well provided as to fortune.
spot of barren earth, for bread, and blessing the hour of night which relieved him from toil. Little could the wealthy and great of the land, as they rolled along the highway in splendour, and beheld the young rustic at work in the coarse garb of a labourer, covered with dust and melting in the sun, have suspected that this was the man who was destined not only to humble their pride, but to make the prince himself tremble on his distant throne, and to shake the brightest jewels from the British crown. Little, indeed, could he himself have suspected it; for amidst the distresses which thickened around him at this time, and threatened him not only with obscurity but with famine, no hopes came to cheer the gloom, nor did there remain to him any earthly consolation, save that which he found in the bosom of his own family. Fortunately for him, there never was a heart which felt this consolation with greater force. No man ever possessed the domestic virtues in a higher degree, or enjoined, more exquisitely, those pure delights which flow from the endearing relations of conjugal life.
Mr. Henry's want of agricultural skill, and his unconquerable aversion to every species of systematic labour, drove him, necessarily, after a trial of two years, to abandon his pursuit altogether. His next step seems to have been dictated by absolute despair; for, selling off his little possessions, at a sacrifice for cash, he entered, a second time, on the inauspicious business of merchandize. Perhaps, he flattered himself that he would be able to profit by his past experience, and conduct this experiment to a more successful issue. But if he did so, he deceived himself. He soon found that he had not changed his character, by changing his pursuits. His early habits still continued to haunt him. The same want of
method, the same facility of temper, soon became apparent by their ruinous effects. He resumed his violin, his flute, his books, his curious inspection of human nature; and not unfrequently ventured to shut up his store, and indulge himself in the favourite sports of his youth.
His reading, however, began to assume a more serious character. He studied geography, in which it is said that he became an adept. He read, also, the charters and history of the colony. He became fond of historical works generally, particularly those of Greece and Rome; and, from the tenacity of his memory and the strength of his judgment, soon made himself a perfect master of their contents. Livy was his favourite; and having procured a translation, he became so much enamoured of the work, that he made it a standing rule to read it through, once at least, in every year, during the earlier part of his life. * The grandeur of the Roman character, so beautifully exhibited by Livy, filled him with surprise and admiration; and he was particularly enraptured with those vivid descriptions and eloquent harangues with which the work abounds. Fortune could scarcely have thrown in his way, a book better fitted to foster his republican spirit, and awaken the still dormant powers of his genius; and it seems not improbable, that the lofty strain in which he himself afterwards both spoke and acted, was, if not originally inspired, at least highly raised, by the noble models set before him by this favourite author.
This second mercantile experiment was still more
unfortunate than the first. In a few years it left him a
bankrupt, and placed him in a situation than which it is
difficult to conceive one more wretched. Every atom
of his property was now gone, his friends were unable
* Judge Nelson had this statement from Mr. Henry himself.
to assist him any further; he had tried every means of support, of which he could suppose himself capable, and every one had failed; ruin was behind him; poverty, debt, want, and famine before; and, as if his cup of misery were not already full enough, here were a suffering wife and children to make it overflow.
But with all his acuteness of feeling, Mr. Henry possessed great native firmness of character; and, let me add, great reliance, too, on that unseen arm which never long deserts the faithful. Thus supported, he was able to bear up under the heaviest pressure of misfortune, and even to be cheerful, under circumstances which would sink most other men into despair.
It was at this period of his fortunes, that Mr. Jefferson became acquainted with him; and the reader, I am persuaded, will be gratified with that gentleman's own account of it. These are his words. "My acquaintance with Mr. Henry commenced in the winter of 1759-60. On my way to the college, I passed the Christmas holidays, at col. Dandridge's, in Hanover, to whom Mr. Henry was a near neighbour. During the festivity of the season, I met him in society every day, and we became well acquainted, although I was much his junior, being then in my seventeenth year, and he a married man. His manners had something of coarseness in then; his passion was music, dancing and pleasantry. He excelled in the last, and it attached every one to him. You ask some account of his mind and information at this period; but you will recollect that we were almost continually engaged in the usual revelries of the season. The occasion perhaps, as much as his idle disposition, prevented his engaging in any conversation which might give the measure either of his mind or information. Opportunity was
not, indeed, wholly wanting; because Mr. John Campbell was there, who had married Mrs. Spotswood, the sister of col. Dandridge. He was a man of science, and often introduced conversation on scientific subjects. Mr. Henry had, a little before, broken up his store, or rather it had broken him up; but his misfortunes were not to be traced, either in his countenance or conduct."
This cheerfulness of spirit, under a reverse of fortune so severe, is certainly a very striking proof of the manliness of his character. It is not, indeed, easy to conceive that a mind like Mr. Henry's could finally sink under any pressure of adversity. Such a mind, although it may not immediately perceive whither to direct its efforts, must always possess a consciousness of power sufficient to buoy it above despondency. But, be this as it may, of Mr. Henry, it was certainly true, as Doctor Johnson has observed of Swift, that "he was not one of those who, having lost one part of life in idleness, are tempted to throw away the remainder in despair."
It seems to be matter of surprise, that even yet, amidst all these various struggles for subsistence, the powers of his mind had not so developed themselves as to suggest to any friend the pursuit for which he was formed. He seems to have been a plant of slow growth, but, like other plants of that nature, formed for duration, and fitted to endure the buffetings of the rudest storm.
It was now, when all other experiments had failed, that, as a last effort, he determined, of his own accord, to make a trial of the law. No one expected him to succeed in any eminent degree. His unfortunate habits were, by no means, suited to so laborious a profession: and even if it were not too late in life for him to hope
to master its learning, the situation of his affairs forbade
an extensive course of reading. In addition to these
obstacles, the business of the profession, in that quarter,
was already in hands from which it was not easily
to be taken; for (to mention no others) judge Lyons, the
late president of the court of appeals, was then at the
bar of Hanover and the adjacent counties, with an
unrivalled reputation for legal learning; and Mr. John
Lewis, a man, also, of very respectable legal attainments,
occupied the whole field of forensic eloquence.
Mr. Henry, himself, seems to have hoped for nothing
more from the profession than a scanty subsistence for
himself and his family, and his preparation was suited
to these humble expectations; for to the study of a
profession, which is said to require the lucubrations of
twenty years, Mr. Henry devoted not more than six
weeks. * On this preparation, however, he obtained a
license to practise the law. How he passed with two
of the examiners, I have no intelligence; but he himself
used to relate his interview with the third. This was
no other than Mr. John Randolph, who was afterwards
the king's attorney general for the colony; a gentleman
of the most courtly elegance of person and manners, a
polished wit, and a profound lawyer. At first, he was
so much shocked by Mr. Henry's very ungainly figure
and address, that he refused to examine him:
understanding, however, that he had already obtained two
signatures, he entered, with manifest reluctance, on the
business. A very short time was sufficient to satisfy
him of the erroneous conclusion which he had drawn
from the exterior of the candidate. With evident marks
* So say Mr. Jefferson and judge Winston. Mr. Pope says nine months.
Col. Meredith and Capt. Dabney, six or eight months. Judge Tyler, one
month; and he adds, "This I had from his own lips. In this time, he read
Coke upon Littleton, and the Virginia laws."
of increasing surprise (produced no doubt by the peculiar texture and strength of Mr. Henry's style, and the boldness and originality of his combinations) he continued the examination for several hours: interrogating the candidate, not on the principles of municipal law, in which he no doubt soon discovered his deficiency, but on the laws of nature and of nations, on the policy of the feudal system, and on general history, which last he found to be his strong hold. During the very short portion of the examination which was devoted to the common law, Mr. Randolph dissented, or affected to dissent, from one of Mr. Henry's answers, and called upon him to assign the reasons of his opinion. This produced an argument; and Mr. Randolph now played off on him, the same arts which he himself, had so often practised on his country customers; drawing him out by questions, endeavouring to puzzle him by subtleties, assailing him with declamation, and watching continually, the defensive operations of his mind. After a considerable discussion, he said, "you defend your opinions well, sir; but now to the law and to the testimony." Hereupon he carried him to his office, and opening the authorities, said to him, "behold the force of natural reason; you have never seen these books, nor this principle of the law; yet you are right and I am wrong; and from the lesson which you have given me (you must excuse me for saying it) I will never trust to appearances again. Mr. Henry, if your industry be only half equal to your genius, I augur that you will do well, and become an ornament and an honour to your profession." It was always Mr. Henry's belief that Mr. Randolph had affected this difference of opinion, merely to afford him the pleasure of a triumph, and to make some atonement for the wound which his first repulse had
inflicted. Be this as it may, the interview was followed by the most marked and permanent respect on the part of Mr. Randolph, and the most sincere good will and gratitude, on that of Mr. Henry. *
It was at the age of four and twenty that Mr. Henry obtained his license. Of the science of law, he knew almost nothing: of the practical part he was so wholly ignorant, that he was not only unable to draw a declaration or a plea, but incapable it is said, of the most common and simple business of his profession, even of the mode of ordering a suit, giving a notice, or making a motion in court. It is not at all wonderful therefore, that such a novice, opposed as he was by veterans, covered with the whole armour of the law, should linger in the background, for three years.†
During this time, the wants and distresses of his family
were extreme. The profits of his practice could not
have supplied them even with the necessaries of life;
and he seems to have spent the greatest part of his time,
* This account of Mr. Henry's examination is given by judge Tyler, who
states it as coming from Mr. Henry himself. It was written before I had
received the following statement from Mr. Jefferson; and although there is
some difference in the circumstances, it has not been thought important
enough to make an alteration of the text necessary. This is Mr. Jefferson's
statement. "In the spring of 1760, he came to Williamsburg to obtain a
license as a lawyer, and he called on me at college. He told me he had
been reading law only six weeks. Two of the examiners, however, Peyton
and John Randolph, men of great facility of temper, signed his license with
as much reluctance as their dispositions would permit them to show. Mr.
Wythe abslutely refused. Robert C. Nicholas refused also at first; but on
repeated importunities and promises of future reading, he signed. These
facts I had afterwards from the gentlemen themselves; the two Randolphs
acknowledging he was very ignorant of the law, but that they perceived
him to be a young man of genius, and did not doubt that he would soon
qualify himself." † "He was not distinguished at the bar for near four years." Judge
Winston: yet Mr. Burk intimates that he took the lead in his profession at
once. 3d vol. 301.
both of his study of the law and the practice of the first two or three years, with his father-in-law, Mr. Shelton, who then kept the tavern at Hanover court house. Whenever Mr. Shelton was from home, Mr. Henry supplied his place in the tavern, received the guests, and attended to their entertainment. All this was very natural in Mr. Henry's situation, and seems to have been purely the voluntary movement of his naturally kind and obliging disposition. Hence, however, a story has arisen, that in the early part of his life, he was a bar-keeper by profession. The fact seems not to have been so: but if it had been, it would certainly have redounded much more to his honour than to his discredit; for as Mr. Henry owed no part of his distinction either to birth or fortune, but wholly to himself, the deeper the obscurity and poverty from which he emerged, the stronger is the evidence which it bears to his powers, and the greater glory does it shed around him.
About the time of Mr. Henry's coming to the bar, a controversy arose in Virginia, which gradually produced a very strong excitement, and called to it, at length, the attention of the whole state.
This was the famous controversy between the clergy on the one hand, and the legislature and people of the colony on the other, touching the stipend claimed by the former; and as this was the occasion on which Mr. Henry's genius first broke forth, those who take an interest in his life, will not be displeased by a particular account of the nature and grounds of the dispute. It will be borne in mind, that the church of England was at this period, the established church of Virginia; and, by an act of assembly passed so far back as the year 1696, each minister of a parish had been provided with an annual stipend of sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco.
This act was re-enacted with amendments, in 1748, and in this form, had received the royal assent. The price of tobacco had long remained stationary at two pence in the pound, or sixteen shillings and eight pence per hundred. According to the provision of the law, the clergy had the right to demand, and were in the practice of receiving payment of their stipend, in the specific tobacco; unless they chose, for convenience, to commute it for money at the market price. In the year 1755, however, the crop of tobacco, having fallen short, the legislature passed "an act to enable the inhabitants of this colony, to discharge their tobacco debts in money for the present year:" by the provisions of which "all persons from whom any tobacco was due, were authorized to pay the same either in tobacco, or in money, after the rate of sixteen shillings and eight pence per hundred, at the option of the debtor." This act was to continue in force for ten months and no longer, and did not contain the usual clause of suspension, until it should receive the royal assent. Whether the scarcity of tobacco was so general and so notorious, as to render this act a measure of obvious humanity and necessity, or whether the clergy were satisfied by its generality, since it embraced sheriffs, clerks, attornies, and all other tobacco creditors, as well as themselves, or whether they acquiesced in it as a temporary expedient, which they supposed not likely to be repeated, it is certain that no objection was made to the law at that time. They could not indeed, have helped observing the benefits which the rich planters derived from the act; for they were receiving from fifty to sixty shillings per hundred for their tobacco, while they paid off their debts, due in that article, at the old price of sixteen shillings and eight pence. Nothing, however, was then said in defence
either of the royal prerogative, or of the rights of the
clergy, but the law was permitted to go peaceably
through its ten months operation. The great tobacco
planters had not forgotten the fruits of this act, when,
in the year 1758, upon a surmise that another short
crop was likely to occur, the provisions of the act of
1755 were re-enacted, and the new law, like the former,
contained no suspending clause. The crop, as had
been anticipated, did fall short, and the price of tobacco
rose immediately from sixteen and eight pence to fifty
shillings per hundred. The clergy now took the alarm,
and the act was assailed by an indignant, sarcastic, and
vigorous pamphlet, entitled "The Two-Penny Act,"
from the pen of the Rev. John Camm, the rector of
York-Hampton parish, and the Episcopalian commissary
for the colony. * He was answered by two pamphlets,
written, the one by col. Richard Bland, and the
other by col. Landon Carter, in both which the commissary
was very roughly handled. He replied, in a
still severer pamphlet, under the ludicrous title of "The
Colonels Dismounted." The colonels rejoined; and this
war of pamphlets, in which, with some sound argument,
there was a great deal of what Dryden has called "the
horse play of raillery," was kept up, until the whole
colony, which had at first looked on for amusement,
kindled seriously in the contest from motives of
interest. Such was the excitement produced by the
discussion, and at length so strong the current against
the clergy, that the printers found it expedient to shut
their presses against them in this colony, and Mr. Camm
* The governor of Virginia represented the king; the council, the house
of lords; and the Episcopalian commissary (a member of the council)
represented the spiritual part of that house; the house of burgesses, was, of course,
the house of commons.
had at last to resort to Maryland for publication. These
pamphlets are still extant; and it seems impossible to
deny, at this day, that the clergy had much the best of
the argument. The king in his council, took up the
subject, denounced the act of 1755 as an usurpation,
and declared it utterly null and void. Thus supported,
the clergy resolved to bring the question to a judicial
test; and suits were accordingly brought by then, in the
various county courts of the colony, to recover their
stipends in the specific tobacco. They selected the
county of Hanover as the place of the first experiment;
and this was made in a suit instituted by the Rev. James
Maury, * against the collector of that county and his
sureties. The record of this suit is now before me.
The declaration is founded on the act of 1748 which
gives the tobacco; the defendants pleaded specially the
act of 1758, which authorizes the commutation into
money, at sixteen and eight pence: to this plea the
plaintiff demurred; assigning, for causes of demurrer,
first, that the act of 1758, not having received the royal
assent, had not the force of a law; and, secondly, that
the king, in council, had declared that act null and
void. The case stood for argument on the demurrer
to the November term, 1763, and was argued by Mr.
Lyons for the plaintiff, and Mr. John Lewis for the
defendants; when the court, very much to the credit of
their candour and firmness, breasted the popular current
by sustaining the demurrer. Thus far the clergy sailed
before the wind, and concluded, with good reason, that
* Mr. Burk (vol. 3d. page 303) makes the Rev. Patrick Henry the plaintiff
in this cause; in this he is corrected by the records of the County. Mr. Burk,
also, sets down "The Two-Penny Act" to the speculations of a man by the
name of Dickinson; in this he is confuted by the act itself; the preamble
expressly founding it, on the shortness of the crop.
their triumph was complete: for the act of 1758 having been declared void by the judgment on the demurrer; that of 1748 was left in full force, and became, in law, the only standard for the finding of the jury. Mr. Lewis was so thoroughly convinced of this, that he retired from the cause; informing his clients that it had been, in effect, decided against them, and that there remained nothing more for him to do. In this desperate situation, they applied to Patrick Henry, and he undertook to argue it for them before the jury, at the ensuing term. Accordingly, on the first day of the following December, he attended the court, and, on his arrival, found on the court-yard, such a concourse, as would have appalled any other man in his situation. They were not the people of the county merely, who were there, but visitors from all the counties, to a considerable distance around. The decision upon the demurrer, had produced a violent ferment amongst the people, and equal exultation on the part of the clergy; who attended the court in a large body, either to look down opposition, or to enjoy the final triumph of this hard fought contest, which they now considered as perfectly secure. Among many other clergymen, who attended on this occasion, came the Reverend Patrick Henry, who was the plaintiff in another cause of the same nature, then depending in court. When Mr. Henry saw his uncle approach, he walked up to his carriage, accompanied by col. Meredith, and expressed his regret at seeing him there. "Why so?" enquired the uncle. "Because, sir," said Mr. Henry, "you know that I have never yet spoken in public, and I fear that I shall be too much overawed by your presence, to be able to do my duty to my clients; besides sir, I shall be obliged to say some hard things of the clergy, and I am very unwilling to give pain to
your feelings." His uncle reproved him for having engaged in the cause; which Mr. Henry excused by saying, that the clergy had not thought him worthy of being retained on their side, and he knew of no moral principle by which he was bound to refuse a fee from their adversaries; besides, he confessed, that in this controversy, both his heart and judgment, as well as his professional duty, were on the side of the people; he then requested that his uncle would do him the favour to leave the ground. "Why, Patrick," said the old gentleman with a good-natured smile, "as to your saying hard things of the clergy, I advise you to let that alone--take my word for it, you will do yourself more harm than you will them; and as to my leaving the ground, I fear, my boy, that my presence could neither do you harm or good, in such a cause. However; since you seem to think otherwise, and desire it of me, so earnestly, you shall be gratified." Whereupon, he entered his carriage again, and returned home.
Soon after the opening of the court, the cause was called. It stood on a writ of inquiry of damages, no plea having been entered by the defendants since the judgment on the demurrer. The array before Mr. Henry's eyes was now most fearful. On the bench sat more than twenty clergymen, the most learned men in the colony, and the most capable, as well as the severest critics before whom it was possible for him to have made his debut. The court house was crowded with an overwhelming multitude, and surrounded with an immense and anxious throng, who not finding room to enter, were endeavouring to listen without, in the deepest attention. But there was something still more awfully disconcerting than all this; for in the chair of the presiding magistrate, sat no other person, than his own father. Mr. Lyons opened
the cause very briefly: in the way of argument he did nothing more than explain to the jury, that the decision upon the demurrer had put the act of 1750 entirely out of the way, and left the law of 1748 as the only standard of their damages; he then concluded with a highly wrought eulogium on the benevolence of the clergy. And, now, came on the first trial of Patrick Henry's strength. No one had ever heard him speak, and curiosity was on tiptoe. He rose very awkwardly, and faultered much in his exordium. The people hung their heads at so unpromising a commencement; the clergy were observed to exchange sly looks with each other; and his father is described as having almost sunk with confusion, from his seat. But these feelings were of short duration, and soon gave place to others, of a very different character. For, now, were those wonderful faculties which he possessed, for the first time developed; and now, was first, witnessed that mysterious and almost supernatural transformation of appearance, which the fire of his own eloquence never failed to work in him. For as his mind rolled along, and began to glow from its own action, all the exuviæ of the clown, seemed to shed themselves, spontaneously. His attitude, by degrees, became erect and lofty. The spirit of his genius awakened all his features. His countenance shone with a nobleness and grandeur which it had never before exhibited. There was a lightning in his eyes which seemed to rive the spectator. His action became graceful, bold, and commanding; and in the tones of his voice, but more especially in his emphasis, there was a peculiar charm, a magic, of which any one who ever heard him, will speak as soon as he is named, but of which no one can give any adequate description. They can only say that it struck upon the ear and upon the heart,
in a manner which language cannot tell. Add to all these, his wonder-working fancy, and the peculiar phraseology in which he clothed its images; for he painted to the heart with a force that almost petrified it. In the language of those who heard him on this occasion, "he made their blood run cold, and their hair to rise on end."
It will not be difficult for any one, who ever heard this most extraordinary man, to believe the whole account of this transaction which is given by his surviving hearers; and from their account, the court house of Hanover county, must have exhibited on this occasion, a scene as picturesque, as has been ever witnessed in real life. They say, that the people, whose countenances had fallen as he arose, had heard but a very few sentences before they began to look up; then to look at each other with surprise, as if doubting the evidence of their own senses; then, attracted by some strong gesture, struck by some majestic attitude, fascinated by the spell of his eye, the charm of his emphasis, and the varied and commanding expression of his countenance, they could look away no more. In less than twenty minutes, they might be seen in every part of the house, on every bench, in every window, stooping forward from their stands, in death-like silence; their features fixed in amazement and awe; all their senses listening and rivetted upon the speaker; as if to catch the last strain of some heavenly visitant. The mockery of the clergy was soon turned into alarm; their triumph into confusion and despair; and at one burst of his rapid and overwhelming invective, they fled from the bench in precipitation and terror. As for the father, such was his surprise, such his amazement, such his rapture, that, forgetting where he was, and the character which he was filling, tears of ecstacy streamed down
his cheeks, without the power or inclination to repress them.
The jury seem to have been so completely bewildered, that they lost sight not only of the act of 1748, but that of 1758 also; for thoughtless even of the admitted right of the plaintiff, they had scarcely left the bar, when they returned with a verdict of one penny damages. A motion was made for a new trial; but the court too, had now lost the equipoise of their judgment, and overruled the motion by an unanimous vote. The verdict and judgment overruling the motion, were followed by redoubled acclamation, from within and without the house. The people, who had with difficulty kept their hands off their champion, from the moment of closing his harangue, no sooner saw the fate of the cause finally sealed, than they seized him at the bar, and in spite of his own exertions, and the continued cry of "order" from the sheriffs and the court, they bore him out of the court house, and raising, him on their shoulders, carried him about the yard, in a kind of electioneering triumph.
O! what a scene was this for a father's heart! so sudden; so unlooked for; so delightfully overwhelming! At the time, he was not able to give utterance to any sentiment; but, a few days after, when speaking of it to Mr. Winston, * he said, with the most engaging modesty, and with a tremor of voice, which showed how much more he felt than he expressed; "Patrick spoke in this cause, near an hour! and in a manner, that surprised me! and showed himself well informed on a subject, of which I did not think he had any knowledge!"
I have tried much to procure a sketch of this celebrated
speech. But those of Mr. Henry's hearers who
* The present judge Winston.
survive, seem to have been bereft of their senses. They can only tell you in general, that they were taken captive; and so delighted with their captivity, that they followed implicitly, whithersoever he led them. That, at his bidding, their tears flowed from pity, and their cheeks flushed with indignation. That when it was over, they felt as if they had just awaked from some ecstatic dream, of which they were unable to recal or connect the particulars. It was such a speech as they believe had never before fallen from the lips of man; and to this day, the old people of that county cannot conceive that a higher compliment can be paid to a speaker than to say of him, in their own homely phrase, "he is almost equal to Patrick, when he plead against the parsons."
The only topic of this speech of which any authentic account remains, is the order of the king in council, whereby the act of 1758 had been declared void. This subject, had in truth been disposed of by the demurrer; and, in strictness of proceeding, neither Mr. Henry nor the jury had any thing to do with it. The laxity of the county court practice, however, indulged him in the widest career he chose to take, and he laid hold of this point, neither with a feeble or hesitating hand; but boldly and vigorously pressed it upon the jury, and that, too, with very powerful effect. He insisted on the connection and reciprocal duties between the king and his subjects; maintained that government was a conditional compact, composed of unusual and dependent covenants, of which a violation by one party discharged the other; and intrepidly contended that the disregard which had been shown in this particular, to the pressing wants of the colony, was an instance of royal misrule, which had thus far dissolved the political compact, and left the people
at liberty to consult their own safety; that they had consulted it by the act of 1758, which, therefore, notwithstanding the dissent of the king and his council, ought to be considered as the law of the land, and the only legitimate measure of the claims of the clergy.
The nature of this topic, and the earnest and undaunted manner in which Mr. Henry is said to have pursued and maintained it, proves, that even at this period, which has been marked as the era of our greatest attachment and devotion to the parent country, his mind at least, was disposed to pry into the course of the regal administration, and to speak forth his sentiments without any fear of the consequences. The reception which the people gave to the argument, proves that they also, had no superstitious repugnance to the consideration of such topics, nor any very insuperable horror at the idea of a separation. Not that there is ground to suspect that any one had at this time, realized such an event, or even contemplated it as desirable. The suggestion, therefore, which I have sometimes heard, that Mr. Henry was already meditating the independence of the colonies, and sowing the seeds of those reflections which he wished to ripen into revolt, is in my opinion, rather curious than just. I believe that he thought of nothing beyond success in his cause; and since the desperate posture in which he found it, demanded a daring and eccentric course, he adopted that which has been already stated. The character of his argument, proves indeed, that he was naturally a bold and intrepid enquirer, who was not to be overawed from his purpose by the name even of sovereignty itself; and of course that he was made of good revolutionary materials. But an adequate provocation had not, at this time, been given: and it would be imputing to Mr. Henry a criminal
ambition, of which there is no proof; to suppose that he was meditating the subversion of a government, against which the voice of serious complaint had not yet been heard. Besides, Mr. Henry's standing in society was at this period so humble, as to have rendered the meditation of such a purpose, on his part, presumptuous in the extreme; and equally inconsistent both with his unassuming modesty, and that natural good sense and accurate judgment, which are on all hands, assigned to him.
Immediately on the decision of this cause, he was retained on all the cases, within the range of his practice, which depended on the same question. But no other case was ever brought to trial. They were all, throughout the colony, dismissed by the plaintiffs; nor was any appeal ever prosecuted in the case of Mr. Maury. The reason assigned for this by Mr. Camm, is, that the legislature had voted money to support the appeal on the part of the defendants, and that the clergy were not rich enough to contend against the whole wealth and strength of the colony. *
The clergy took their revenge in an angry pamphlet
from the pen of Mr. Camm, in which a very
* Mr. Camm is right as to the interference of the legislature. I have not
been able, however, to find any resolution of the legislature, to this effect,
earlier than the 7th of April, 1767: whereas Mr. Maury's case was decided
in Hanover, on the 1st December, 1763. The following is extracted from
the journal of the day, first mentioned.
"On a motion made,
"Resolved, that the committee of correspondence be directed to write
to the agent, to defend the parish collectors from all appeals from judgments
here given, in suits brought by the clergy, for recovering their salaries,
payable on or before the last day of May, 1759; and that this house will engage
to defray the expense thereof."
contemptuous account is given both of the advocate and the court. Mr. Henry is stigmatized in it as an obscure attorney; and the epithet was true enough as to the time past, but it was true no longer. His sun had risen with a splendour which had never before been witnessed in this colony; and never afterward, did it disgrace this glorious rising.
IT is almost unnecessary to state that the display which Mr. Henry had made in "the parsons' cause," as it was popularly called, placed him, at once, at the head of his profession, in that quarter of the colony in which he practised. He became the theme of every tongue. He had exhibited a degree of eloquence, which the people had never before witnessed; a species of eloquence too, entirely new at the bar, and altogether his own. He had formed it on no living model; for there was none such in the country. He had not copied it from books, for they had described nothing of the kind; or if they had, he was a stranger to their contents. Nor had he formed it himself, by solitary study and exercise; for he was far too indolent for any such process. It was so unexampled, so unexpected, so instantaneous, and so transcendent in its character, that it had, to the people, very much the appearance of supernatural inspiration. He was styled "the orator of nature:" and was, on that account, much more revered by the people than if he had been formed by the severest discipline of the schools; for they considered him as bringing his credentials directly from heaven, and owing no part of his greatness to human institutions.
There were other considerations also, which drew him still more closely to the bosom of the people. The society of Virginia, was at that time pretty strongly discriminated. A gentleman who lived in those days, and who had the best opportunities of judging on the subject, has furnished the following interesting picture of it.
"To state the differences between the classes of the society and the lines of demarcation which separated them, would be difficult. The law, you know, admitted none, except as to the twelve counsellors. Yet in a country insulated from the European world, insulated from its sister colonies, with whom there was scarcely any intercourse, little visited by foreigners, and having little matter to act upon within itself, certain families had risen to splendour by wealth, and by the preservation of it from generation to generation under the law of entails; some had produced a series of men of talents; families in general had remained stationary on the grounds of their forefather, for there was no emigration to the westward in those days; the Irish, who had gotten possession of the valley between the Blue Ridge and the North Mountain, formed a barrier over which none ventured to leap; and their manners presented no attraction to the lowlanders to settle among them. In such a state of things, scarcely admitting any change of station, society would settle itself down into several strata, separated by no marked lines, but shading off imperceptibly from top to bottom, nothing disturbing the order of their repose. There were, then, first aristocrats, composed of the great landholders who had seated themselves below tide water on the main rivers, and lived in a style of luxury and extravagance, insupportable by the other inhabitants, and which, indeed, ended, in several instances, in the ruin of their own fortunes. Next to these were what might be called half breeds; the descendants of the younger sons and daughters of the aristocrats, who inherited the pride of their ancestors, without their wealth. Then came the pretenders, men who from vanity, or the impulse of growing wealth, or from that enterprize which is natural to talents,
sought to detach themselves from the plebeian ranks, to which they properly belonged, and imitated, at some distance, the manners and habits of the great. Next to these, were a solid and independent yeomanry, looking askance at those above, yet not venturing to jostle them. And last and lowest, a feculum of beings called overseers, the most abject, degraded, unprincipled race; always cap in hand to the dons who employed them, and furnishing materials for the exercise of their pride, insolence, and spirit of domination."
It was from the body of the yeomanry, whom my correspondent represents as "looking askance" at those above them, that Mr. Henry proceeded. He belonged to the body of the people. His birth, education, fortune, and manners, made him one of themselves. They regarded him, therefore, as their own property, and sent to them, expressly for the very purpose of humbling the pride of the mighty and exalting the honour of his own class.
Mr. Henry had too much sagacity not to see this advantage, and too much good sense not to keep and to improve it. He seems to have formed to himself, very early in life, just views of society, and to have acted upon them with the most laudable system and perseverance. He regarded government as instituted solely for the good of the people; and not for the benefit of those, who had contrived to make a job of it. He looked upon the body of the people, therefore, as the basis of society, the fountain of all power, and, directly or indirectly, of all offices and honours, which had been instituted, originally, for their use. He made it no secret, therefore, nay he made it his boast, that on every occasion, "he bowed to the majesty of the people." With regard to himself, he saw, very distinctly, that all his
hopes rested on the people's favour. He, therefore, adhered to them with unshaken fidelity. He retained their manners, their customs, all their modes of life, with religious caution. He dressed as plainly as the plainest of them; ate only the homely fare, and drank the simple beverage of the country; mixed with them on a footing of the most entire and perfect equality, and conversed with them, even in their own vicious and depraved pronunciation. *
If this last were the effect of artful compliance, as
has been strenuously affirmed, it was certainly carrying
the system farther than dignity would warrant. Mr.
Henry should have been the instructor as well as the
friend of the people, and by his example, have corrected,
instead of adopting their errors. It is very certain
that by this course he disgusted many of those whom
it was often his business to persuade; not because they
considered it as a proof of vulgarity and ignorance, but
because they regarded it as a premeditated artifice to
catch the favour and affections of the people. That it
was so, I am not disposed to believe. I think it much
more probable, that those errors of pronunciation were
the effect of early and inveterate habit, which had
become incurable before he was informed of his mistake.
He had no occasion to resort to such petty artifices,
either to gain or to hold the affections of the people.
He held them by a much higher and a much
firmer title; the simplicity of his manners; the
* Governor Page relates, that he once heard him express the following
sentiments, in this vicious pronunciation: "Naiteral parts is better than all
the larnin upon yearth;" but the accuracy of Mr. Page's memory is
questioned in this particular, by the acquaintances of Mr. Henry, who say, that
he was too good a grammarian to have uttered such a sentence, although
they admit the inaccuracy of his pronunciation, in some of the words
imputed to him.
benevolence of his disposition; the integrity of his life; his real devotion to their best interests; that uncommon sagacity which enabled him to discern those interests in every situation; and the unshaken constancy with which he pursued them, in spite of every difficulty and danger that could threaten him. From the point of time of which we are now speaking, it is very certain that he suffered no gale of fortune, however high or prosperous, to separate him from the people. Nor did the people, on their part, ever desert him. He was the man to whom they looked in every crisis of difficulty, and the favourite on whom they were ever ready to lavish all the honours in their gift.
Middleton, in his life of Cicero, tells us that the first great speech of that orator, his defence of Roscius the actor, was made at the age of twenty-seven; the same age, he adds, at which the learned have remarked, that Demosthenes distinguished himself in the assembly of the Athenians: "As if this were the age" (I quote his own words) "at which these great genios regularly bloomed towards maturity." It is rather curious, than important, to observe, that Mr. Henry furnishes another instance in support of this theory; since it was precisely in the same year of his life, that his talents first became known to himself and to the world. Nor let the admirer of antiquity revolt at our coupling the name of Henry, with those of Cicero and Demosthenes: it can be no degradation to the orator either of Greece or Rome, that his name stands enrolled, on the same page, with that of a man of whom such a judge of eloquence as Mr. Jefferson has said, that "he was the greatest orator that ever lived."
But the taste of professional fame, which Mr. Henry had derived from the "parsons' cause," exquisite as it
must have been, was not sufficient to inspire him with a thirst for the learning of his profession. He had an insuperable aversion to the old black letter of the law books, (which was often a topic of raillery with him,) and he was never able to conquer it, except for preparation in some particular cause. No love of distinction, no necessity however severe, were strong enough to bind him down to a regular course of reading. He could not brook the confinement. The reasoning of the law was too artificial, and too much cramped for him. Whilst unavoidably engaged in it, he felt as if manacled. His mind was perpetually struggling to break away. His genius delighted in liberty and space, in which it might roam at large, and feast on every variety of intellectual enjoyment. Hence he was never profound in the learning of the law. On a question merely legal, his inferiors, in point of talents, frequently embarrassed and foiled him; and it required all the resources of his extraordinary mind, to support the distinction which he had now gained.
The most successful practice in the county courts, was in those days, but a slender dependance for a family. Notwithstanding therefore, the great addition to his business which we have noticed, Mr. Henry seems still to have been pressed by want. With the hope of improving his situation, he removed, in the year 1764, to the county of Louisa, and resided at a place called the Roundabout. Here I have learned nothing remarkable of him, unless it may be thought so, that he pursued his favourite amusement of hunting with increased ardour. "After his removal to Louisa," says my informant, "he has been known to hunt deer, frequently for several days together, carrying his provision with him, and at night encamping in the woods. After
the hunt was over; he would go from the ground to Louisa court, clad in a coarse cloth coat stained with all the trophies of the chase, greasy leather breeches ornamented in the same way, leggings for boots, and a pair of saddle-bags on his arm. Thus accoutred, he would enter the court house, take up the first of his causes that chanced to be called; and if there was any scope for his peculiar talent, throw his adversary into the background, and astonish both court and jury by the powerful effusions of his natural eloquence."
There must have been something irresistibly captivating in Mr. Henry's mode of speaking, even on the most trivial subjects. The late judge Lyons has been heard to say of himself, while practising with Mr. Henry, "that he could write a letter, or draw a declaration or plea at the bar, with as much accuracy as he could in his office, under all circumstances, except when Patrick rose to speak; but that whenever he rose, although it might be on so trifling a subject as a summons and petition, for twenty shillings, he was obliged to lay down his pen, and could not write another word, until the speech was finished." Such was the charm of his voice and manner, and the interesting originality of his conceptions!
In the fall of 1764, Mr. Henry had an opportunity
of exhibiting himself on a new theatre. A contest
occurred in the house of burgesses, in the case of Mr.
James Littlepage, the returned member for the county
of Hanover. The rival candidate and petitioner was
Nathaniel West Dandridge. * The charge against Mr.
* Here is another mistake of Mr. Burk's. He states the contest to have
been between col. Syme (Mr. Henry's half brother) and col. Richard
Littlepage. The journal contradicts him and supports the text. There was
no such contest as that of which he speaks; at least between the years 1762
and 1768.
Littlepage was bribery and corruption. The parties were heard by their counsel, before the committee of privileges and elections, and Mr. Henry was on this occasion employed by Mr. Dandridge.
Williamsburg, then the seat of government, was the focus of fashion and high life. The residence of the governor; (the immediate representative of the sovereign,) the royal state in which he lived, the polite and brilliant circle which he always had about him, diffused their influence through the city and the circumjacent country, and filled Williamsburg with a degree of emulation, taste, and elegance, of which we can form no conception by the appearances of the present day. During the session of the house of burgesses, too, these stately modes of life assumed their richest forms; the town, was filled with a concourse of visitors, as well as citizens, attired in their gayest colours; the streets, exhibited a continual scene of animated and glittering tumult; the houses, of costly profusion.
Such was the scene in which Mr. Henry was now called upon, for the first time, to make his appearance. He made no preparation for it, but went down just in the kind of garb which he had been accustomed to exhibit all his life, and is said to have worn, on this occasion particularly, a suit which had suffered very considerably in the service. The contrast which he exhibited, with the general elegance of the place, was so striking, as to call upon him the eyes of all the curious and the mischievous; and, as he moved awkwardly about, in his coarse and threadbare dress, with a countenance of abstraction and total unconcern as to what was passing around him, (interesting as it seemed to every one else,) he was stared at by some as a prodigy, and regarded by others as an unfortunate being, whose
senses were disordered. When he went to attend the
committee of privileges and elections, the matter was
still worse. "The proud airs of aristocracy," says
judge Tyler, detailing this incident of Mr. Henry's life,
"added to the dignified forms of that truly august body,
were enough to have deterred any man possessing less
firmness and independence of spirit than Mr. Henry.
He was ushered with great state and ceremony into the
room of the committee, whose chairman was col.
Bland. * Mr. Henry was dressed in very coarse apparel;
no one knew any thing of him,† and scarcely was he
treated with decent respect by any one except the chairman,
who could not do so much violence to his feelings
and principles, as to depart on any occasion, from the
delicacy of the gentleman. But the general contempt
was soon changed into as general admiration; for Mr.
Henry distinguished himself by a copious and brilliant
display on the great subject of the rights of suffrage,
superior to any thing that had been heard before within
those walls. Such a burst of eloquence, from a man
so very plain and ordinary in his appearance, struck
the committee with amazement; so that a deep and
* Mr. Tyler says, "that enlightened and amiable man, John Blair;" but
in this he is corrected by the journal, which shows that Mr. Bland was the
chairman of the committee of privileges and elections for that year. I
should have thought, from the general accuracy of Mr. Tyler's statement,
that Mr. Blair might have been officiating as chairman pro tempore, in the
absence of col. Bland; but that Mr. Blair does not appear, by the journal, to
have belonged to the committee, or even to have been a member of the
house in 1764. His name does not appear till 1766.
Mr. Tyler, reciting Mr. Henry's own narrative, after a lapse of several
years, might very easily have confounded two names as similar as those of
Bland and Blair. † That is, I presume, of his person; for after the very splendid exhibition
which he made in the parsons' cause, his name could not have been
wholly unknown: the text, however, gives the words of my correspondent
faithfully.
perfect silence took place during the speech, and not a sound but from his lips was to be heard in the room." So far, judge Tyler. Judge Winston, relating the same incident, says, "Some time after, a member of the house, speaking to me of this occurrence, said, he had, for a day or two, observed an ill-dressed young man sauntering in the lobby; that he seemed to be a stranger to every body, and he had not the curiosity to enquire his name; but, that attending when the case of the contested election came on, he was surprised to find this same person counsel for one of the parties; and and still more so, when he delivered an argument superior to any thing he had ever heard." The case, according to the report of the committee of privileges and elections, is not one which seems to present much scope for a very interesting discussion: but Mr. Henry's was one of those minds which impart interest to every subject they touch.
This same year 1764, is memorable for the origination of that great question which led finally to the independence of the United States. It has been said by a gentleman, at least as well qualified to judge as any other now alive, * that "Mr. Henry certainly gave the first impulse to the ball of the revolution." In order to show the correctness of this position, it is proper to ascertain the precise point to which the controversy with Great Britain had advanced, when Mr. Henry first presented himself in the character of a statesman.
In March, 1764, the British parliament had passed
resolutions, preparatory to the levying a revenue on the
colonies by a stamp tax. Those resolutions were
communicated to the house of burgesses of Virginia, through
* Mr. Jefferson.
their committee of correspondence, by the colonial agent;
and having been maturely considered, resulted in the
appointment of a special committee to prepare an
address to the king, a memorial to the lords, and a
remonstrance to the house of commons. On the 18th of
December, 1764, these papers were reported, and (after
various amendments, which considerably diluted their
spirit) received the concurrence of the council. The
reader will perceive, on perusing them, * that, while they
affirm in clear and strong terms, the constitutional
exception of the colony from taxation by the British
parliament, they breathe nevertheless, a tone so suppliant,
and exhibit such a picture of anticipated suffering from
the pressure of the tax on the exhausted resources of the
colony, as to indicate that no opposition beyond
remonstrance, was at this time, meditated. Remonstrance,
however, was vain. In January, 1765, the famous
stamp act was passed, to take effect in the colonies on
the first of November following. The annunciation of
this measure seems at first to have stunned the continent,
from one extremity to the other. The presses which
spread the intelligence among the people, were themselves
manifestly confounded; and so far from inspiring
the energy of resistance, they seemed rather disposed to
have looked out for topics of consolation, under
submission.† The truth is that all ranks of society were
confounded. No one knew what to hope, what more to
fear, or what course was best to be taken. Some,
* See Appendix. Note A. † Thus in the Pennsylvania Gazette of the 30th of May, 1765--"We hear the sum of money arising from the new stamp duties in North America, for
the first five years, are chiefly to be applied towards making commodious
post-roads from one province to another, erecting bridges where necessary,
and other measures equally important to facilitate an extensive trade."
indeed, were fond enough to entertain hopes that the united remonstrances of the colonial legislatures, the fate of which had not yet been heard, might induce the mother country to change her policy; these hopes however, were faint; and few there were that entertained them. Many considered submission in the present state of the colonies, as unavoidable; and that this was the opinion of Doctor Franklin himself, is apparent from the remark with which he took leave of Mr. Ingersoll, on his departure for America. * The idea of resistance by force, was no where glanced at in the most distant manner; no heart seems to have been bold enough at first, to conceive it. Men, on other occasions marked for intrepidity and decision, now hung back; unwilling to submit, and yet afraid to speak out in the language of bold and open defiance. It was just at this moment of despondency in some quarters, suspense in others, and surly and reluctant submission wherever submission appeared, that Patrick Henry stood forth to raise the drooping spirit of the people, and to unite all hearts and hands in the cause of his country. With the view of making way for him and placing him in the public councils of the country, Mr. William Johnson, who had been elected a member of the house of burgesses for the county of Louisa, vacated his seat by accepting the commission of coroner. The writ of election to supply his place was awarded on the first of May, 1765, and on the 20th day of that month, it appears by the journals, that Mr. Henry was added to the committee for courts of justice.
Here, again, he was upon a new theatre, and personally
unknown, except to those few who might have
* "Go home and tell your countrymen to get children as fast as they
can." GORDON.
heard his argument on the contested election of Mr. Littlepage, the preceding winter. His dress and manners were still those of the plain planter, and in his personal appearance, there was nothing to excite curiosity or awaken expectation. The forms of the house, of which he was now for the first time a member, were, as has been stated, most awfully dignified; its active members were composed of the landed aristocracy and their adherents; and amongst them were men to whose superiority of talents, as well as influence and power, the yeomanry of the country had long been accustoned to bow, with tacit and submissive deference.
John Robinson, the speaker of the house, was one of the most opulent men in the colony, and the acknowledged head of its landed aristocracy. He had now filled the chair of the house with great dignity, and without interruption, for five and twenty years. He was also, the colonial treasurer; and from the high offices which he held, in connexion with the regal government, was as warmly attached to its authority by interest, as he was by taste and fashion, to all the grandeur of its forms. But, notwithstanding this close alliance with the court, his personal influence, in every class of society was very great; and he held that influence by a tenure far superior to any that his own vast wealth or the power of the crown could confer. For he possessed a strong and well informed mind, enlarged and corrected by great experience, and he united with it, a benevolence of spirit and a courtesy of manners, which never failed to attach every heart that approached him. The poor drew near to him without awe or embarrassment; they came indeed, with filial confidence; for they never failed to find in him, a sympathetic friend, and an able counsellor. The rich enjoyed in him an easy, enlightened,
and instructive companion; and, next to the governor, regarded him as the highest model of elegance and fashion. An anecdote is related of this gentleman, which displays in a strong and amiable light, the exalted force of his feelings, and the truly noble cast of his manners. When col. Washington (the immortal saviour of his country) had closed his career in the French and Indian war, and had become a member of the house of burgesses, the speaker, Robinson, was directed by a vote of the house, to return their thanks to that gentleman, on behalf of the colony, for the distinguished military services which he had rendered to his county. As soon as col. Washington took his seat, Mr. Robinson, in obedience to this order, and following the impulse of his own generous and grateful heart, discharged the duty, with great dignity; but with such warmth of colouring and strength of expression, as entirely confounded the young hero. He rose to express his acknowledgments for the honour; but such was his trepidation and confusion, that he could not give distinct utterance to a single syllable. He blushed, stammered, and trembled, for a second; when the speaker relieved him, by a stroke of address that would have done honour to Louis the XIV. in his proudest and happiest moment. "Sit down, Mr. Washington," said he, with a conciliating smile; "your modesty is equal to your valour; and that surpasses the power of any language that I possess." *
Peyton Randolph, the king's attorney general, held
the next rank to the speaker. He was not distinguished
for eloquence; but he derived great weight from the
solid powers of his understanding, and the no less solid
* On the authority of Edmund Randolph.
virtues of his heart. He was well acquainted with all the forms of parliamentary proceeding; was an eminent lawyer, and a well informed and practical statesman.
Richard Bland was one of the most enlightened men in the colony. He was a man of finished education, and of the most unbending habits of application. His perfect mastery of every fact connected with the settlement and progress of the colony, had given him the name of the Virginian Antiquary. * He was a politician of the first class; a profound logician, and was also considered as the first writer in the colony.†
Edward Pendleton, the protege of the speaker Robinson,
was also, among the most prominent members in
the house. He had, in a great measure, overcome the
disadvantages of an extremely defective education, and,
by the force of good company and the study of correct
authors, had attained to great accuracy and perspicuity
of style. The patronage of the speaker had introduced
him to the first circles, and his manners were elevated,
graceful and insinuating. His person was spare, but
well proportioned; and his countenance one of the finest
in the world: serene--contemplative--benignant--with
* Edmund Randolph. † "He was," says a correspondent, "the most learned and logical man
of those who took a prominent lead in public affairs; profound in constitutional
lore; but a most ungraceful speaker in debate. He wrote the first
pamphlet on the nature of the connexion with Great Britain, which had any
pretension to accuracy of view on that subject; but it was a singular one;
he would set out on sound principles, pursue them logically, till he found
them leading to the precipice which we had to leap; start back, alarmed;
then resume his ground, go over it in another direction, be led again by the
correctness of his reasoning, to the same place, and again tack about and
try other processes to reconcile right and wrong; but left his reader and
himself, bewildered between the steady index of the compass in their hand,
and the phantom to which it seemed to point. Still there was more sound
matter in this pamphlet, than in the celebrated Farmer's Letters, which were
really but an ignis fatuus, misleading us from true principle."
that expression of unclouded intelligence and extensive
reach, which seemed to denote him capable of any thing,
that could be effected by the power of the human mind.
His mind itself, was of a very fine order. It was clear,
comprehensive, sagacious and correct; with a most acute
and subtle faculty of discrimination; a fertility of expedient
which could never be exhausted; a dexterity of
address which never lost an advantage and never gave
one; and a capacity for continued and unremitting application,
which was perfectly invincible. As a lawyer and
a stateman, he had few equals; no superiors. For
parliamentary management, he was without a rival. With
all these advantages of person, manners, address and
intellect, he was also a speaker of distinguished eminence.
He had that silver voice * of which Cicero makes such
frequent and honourable mention--an articulation
uncommonly distinct--a perennial stream of transparent,
cool and sweet elocution; and the power of presenting his
arguments with great simplicity, and striking effect. He
was always graceful, argumentative, persuasive: never
vehement, rapid, or abrupt. He could instruct and delight;
but he had no pretensions to those high powers which are
calculated to "shake the human soul." George Wythe,
also, a member of the House, was confessedly among
the first in point of abilities. There is a story circulated,
as upon his own authority, that he was initiated by his
mother, in the Latin classics.† Be this as it may, it is
certain that he had raised upon the original foundation,
whencesoever acquired, a superstructure of ancient
literature which has been rarely equalled in this country.
He was perfectly familiar with the authors of Greece
* Vox Argentea, see the Brutus, passim. † I heard it from the late judge Nelson, his relation.
and Rome; read them with the same ease and quoted them with the same promptitude that he could the authors in his native tongue. He carried his love of antiquity rather too far; for he frequently subjected himself to the charge of pedantry; and his admiration of the gigantic writers of Queen Elizabeth's reign, had unfortunately betrayed him into an imitation of their quaintness. Yet, with all this singularity of taste, he was a man of great capacity; powerful in argument; frequently pathetic; and elegantly keen and sarcastic in repartee. He was long the rival of Mr. Pendleton at the bar; whom he equalled as a common lawyer, and greatly surpassed as a civilian: but he was too open and direct in his conduct, and possessed too little management either with regard to his own temper or those of other men, to cope with so cool and skilful an adversary. Though a full match for Mr. Pendleton in the powers of fair and solid reasoning, Mr. Pendleton could whenever he pleased, and would whenever it was necessary, tease him with quibbles, and vex him with sophistries, until he destroyed the composure of his mind and robbed him of his strength. No man was ever more entirely destitute of art than Mr. Wythe. He knew nothing, even in his profession, and never would know any thing of "crooked and indirect by-ways." Whatever he had to do, was to be done openly, avowedly and above board. He would not, even at the bar, have accepted of success on any other terms. This simplicity and integrity of character, although it sometimes exposed him to the arts and sneers of the less scrupulous, placed him before his countrymen, on the ground which Cæsar wished his wife to occupy; he was not only pure, but above all suspicion. The unaffected sanctity of his principles, united with his modesty and simple elegance of manners,
his attic wit, his stores of rare knowledge, his capacity for business, and the real power of his intellect, not only raised him to great eminence in public, but rendered him a delightful companion, and a most valuable friend.
But Richard Henry Lee was the Cicero of the house. His face itself, was on the Roman model; his nose Cæsarean; the port and carriage of his head, leaning persuasively and gracefully forward; and the whole contour noble and fine. Mr. Lee was, by far, the most elegant scholar in the house. He had studied the classics in the true spirit of criticism. His taste had that delicate touch, which seized with intuitive certainty, every beauty of an author, and his genius that native affinity which combined them without an effort. Into every walk of literature and science, he had carried this mind of exquisite selection, and brought it back to the business of life, crowned with every light of learning, and decked with every wreath, that all the Muses, and all the Graces, could entwine. Nor did those light decorations constitute the whole value of its freight. He possessed a rich store of historical and political knowledge, with an activity of observation, and a certainty of judgment, that turned that knowledge to the very best account. He was not a lawyer by profession; but he understood thoroughly the constitution both of the mother country and of her colonies; and the elements also, of the civil and municipal law. Thus, while his eloquence was free from those stiff and technical restraints, which the habits of forensic speaking are so apt to generate, he had all the legal learning which is necessary to a statesman. He reasoned well, and declaimed freely and splendidly. The note of his voice was deeper and more melodious than
that of Mr. Pendleton. It was the canorous voice * of Cicero. He had lost the use of one of his hands, which he kept constantly covered with a black silk bandage neatly fitted to the palm of his hand, but leaving his thumb free; yet, notwithstanding this disadvantage, his gesture was so graceful and so highly finished, that it was said he had acquired it by practising before a mirror.† Such was his promptitude, that he required no preparation for debate. He was ready for any subject, as soon as it was announced; and his speech was so copious, so rich, so mellifluous, set off with such bewitching cadence of voice, and such captivating grace of action, that, while you listened to him, you desired to hear nothing superior, and indeed thought him perfect. He had a quick sensibility and a fervid imagination, which Mr. Pendleton wanted. Hence his orations were warmer and more delightfully interesting; yet still, to him those keys were not consigned, which could unlock the sources either of the strong or tender passions. His defect was, that he was too smooth and too sweet. His style bore a striking resemblance to that of Herodotus, as described by the Roman orator: "he flowed on, like a quiet and placid river, without a ripple."‡ He flowed, too, through banks covered with all the fresh verdure and variegated bloom of the spring; but his course was too subdued, and too beautifully regular. A cataract, like that of Niagara, crowned with overhanging rocks and mountains, in all the rude and awful grandeur of nature, would have brought him nearer to the standard of Homer and of Henry.
* Vox canora, see the Brutus, passim.
† Edmund Randolph.
‡ Sine ullis salebris, quasi sedatus amnis, fluit. Orat. XII. 39.
These were some of the stars of first magnitude that shone in the house of burgesses in the year 1765. There was, yet, a cluster of minor luminaries, which it were endless to delineate, but whose blended rays contributed to form that uncommon galaxy, in which the plebeian Henry was now called upon to take his place. What had he to enable him to cope with all this lustre of talents and erudition? Very little more than the native strength of his character; a constancy of soul, which no array of power could shake; a genius that designed with all the boldness of Angelo, and an imagination that coloured with all the felicity of Titian.
It has been already stated that Mr. Henry was elected with express reference to an opposition to the stamp act. It was not, however, expected by his constituents or meditated by himself, that he should lead the opposition. The addresses of the preceding year, made to the king, lords, and commons, in which so strong a truth had been stated, as that the stamp act, if persisted in, would reduce the colony to a state of slavery, founded a hope, that those who had commenced the opposition by remonstrance, would continue to give it the eclat of their high names, by resistance of a bolder character, if bolder should be necessary. Mr. Henry waited, therefore, to file in under the first champion that should raise the banner of colonial liberty. In the mean time another subject, unexpectedly, occurred to call him up, and it was on this other, that he made his debut in the house.
The incident has been stated to me in the following
terms, by a gentleman who heard the debate. *
* Mr. Jefferson.
"The gentlemen of this country had, at that time, become deeply involved in that state of indebtment, which has since ended in so general a crush of their fortunes. Mr. Robinson, the speaker, was also the treasurer, an honour always chosen by the assembly. He was an excellent man, liberal, friendly, and rich. He had been drawn in to lend on his own account, great sums of money to persons of this description, and especially those who were of the assembly. He used freely for this purpose the public money, confiding for its replacement in his own means, and the securities he had taken on those loans. About this time, however, he became sensible that his deficit to the public was become so enormous, as that a discovery must soon take place, for as yet the public had no suspicion of it. He devised, therefore, with his friends in the assembly, a plan for a public loan office, to a certain amount, from which monies might be lent on public account, and on good landed security, to individuals. I find, in Royle's Virginia Gazette of the 17th of May, 1765, this proposition for a loan office presented, its advantages detailed, and the plan explained. It seems to have been done by a borrowing member, from the feeling with which the motives are expressed, and to have been preparatory to the intended motion. Between the 17th and 30th, (the latter being the date of Mr. Henry's resolutions on the stamp act,) the motion for a loan office was accordingly brought forward in the house of burgesses; and had it succeeded, the deficit due to Robinson on these loans, would have been transferred to the public, and his deficit thus completely covered. This state of things, however, was not yet known: but Mr. Henry attacked the scheme on other general grounds, in that style of bold, grand, and overwhelming eloquence, for which he
became so justly celebrated afterward. I had been
intimate with him from the year 1759-60, and felt an
interest in what concerned him; and I can never forget a
particular exclamation of his in the debate, which
electrified his hearers. It had been urged, that, from
certain unhappy circumstances of the colony, men of
substantial property had contracted debts, which, if
exacted suddenly, must ruin them and their families, but
with a little indulgence of time, might be paid with ease.
'What, sir,' exclaimed Mr. Henry, in animadverting
on this, 'is it proposed then, to reclaim the spendthrift
from his dissipation and extravagance, by filling his
pockets with money?' These expressions are indelibly
impressed on my memory. He laid open with so much
energy the spirit of favouritism, on which the proposition
was founded, and the abuses to which it would
lead, that it was crushed in its birth. He carried with
him all the members of the upper counties, and left a
minority composed merely of the aristocracy of the country.
From this time his popularity swelled apace; and Mr.
Robinson dying, the year afterwards, his deficit was
brought to light, and discovered the true object of the
proposition." *
* In reply to this communication, I stated my surprise that no evidence of
this motion was to be found on the journals of the day, and begged my
correspondent to explain it, which he does very satisfactorily in the following
terms. "Abortive motions are not always entered on the journals, or rather
they are rarely entered. It is the modern introduction of yeas and nays
which has given the means of placing a rejected motion on the journals: and
it is likely that the speaker, who, as treasurer, was to be the loan officer, and
had the direction of the journals, would choose to omit an entry of the
motion in this case. This accounts sufficiently for the absence of any trace of
the motion on the journals. There was no suspicion then, (so far at least as
I knew,) that Mr. Robinson had used the public money in private loans to his
friends, and that the secret object of this scheme was to transfer those
debtors to the public, and thus clear his accounts. I have diligently
examined the names of the members on the journals of 1764, to see if any were
still living, to whose memory we might recur on this subject; but I find not
a single one now remaining in life." This debate must have been in 1765,
instead of 1764. The only surviving member of that year is Paul Carrington,
sen. esq. He took his seat in the house after the debate in question.
The exclamation above quoted by my correspondent as having electrified Mr. Henry's hearers, is a striking specimen of one of