The indignation naturally excited by this piece of deliberate and barbarous treachery, which was at once traced to lord Dunmore, was farther aggravated by a discovery that several barrels of powder had been buried in the magazine, with the purpose, it was reasonably conjectured, of being used as a mine, and thus producing still more fatal destruction, when the occasion should offer. Early on the next morning, lord Dunmore with his family, including captain Foy, fled from the palace to return to it no more, and took shelter on board the Fowey, from the vengeance which he knew he so justly deserved. No commotion, however, had ensued to justify his retreat. The people, indeed, were highly indignant, but they were silent and quiet. The suggestions of his lordship's conscience, had alone produced his flight. He left behind him a message to the speaker and house of burgesses, in which he ascribed his movement to apprehensions for his personal safety; stated that he should fix his residence on board the Fowey; that no interruption should be given to the sitting of the assembly; that he should make the access to him easy and safe; and thought it would be more agreeable to the house to send to him from time to time, one or more of their members as occasion might require, than to put the whole body to the trouble of moving to be near him.

On receiving this message, the house immediately resolved itself into a committee of the whole, and prepared an answer; in which they expressed their deep concern at the step which he had taken—assuring him that his apprehensions of personal danger were entirely unfounded; regretting that he had not expressed them to the house previous to his departure, since from their zeal and attachment to the preservation of order and good government, they should have judged it their indispensable duty to have endeavoured to remove any cause of disquietude. They express the anxiety with which they contemplate the very disagreeable situation of his most amiable lady and her family, and assure him, that they should think themselves happy in being able to restore their perfect tranquillity, by removing all their fears. They regret his departure and the manner of it, as tending to keep up the great uneasiness, which had of late so unhappily prevailed in this country; and declare that they will cheerfully concur in any measure that may be proposed, proper for the security of himself and his family; they remind him how impracticable it will be to carry on the business of the session with any tolerable degree of propriety, or with that despatch which the advanced season of the year required, whilst his lordship was so far removed from them, and so inconveniently situated; and conclude, with entreating him that he would be pleased to return with his lady and family to the palace, which, they say, they are persuaded will give the greatest satisfaction, and be the most likely means of quieting the minds of the people.

This communication was carried down to him by a deputation of two members of the council, and four of the house of burgesses; and in reply to language so respectful, and assurances so friendly and conciliatory, his lordship returned an answer in which he charged them with having slighted his offers of respect and civility, with giving countenance to the violent and disorderly proceedings of the people, and with an usurpation of the executive power in ordering and appointing guards to mount in the city of Williamsburg, with the view, as was pretended to protect the magazine, but which might well be doubted, as there then remained nothing therein which required being guarded: he exhorts them to return within the pale of their constitutional power; to redress the many grievances which existed; to open the courts of justice; to disarm the independent companies; and what was not less essential, by their own example, and every means in their power, to abolish the spirit of persecution which pursued with menaces and acts of oppression, all his majesty's loyal and orderly subjects. For the accomplishment of which ends, he invited them to adjourn to the town of York, opposite to which the Fowey lay, where he promised to meet and remain with them till their business should be finished. But with respect to their entreaty that he would return to the palace, he represents to them that unless they closed in with the conciliatory proposition now offered to them by the British parliament, his return to Williamsburg would be as fruitless to the people, as possibly it might be dangerous to himself. So that he places the event of his returning, on their acceptance of lord North's offer of conciliation.

The house of burgesses now took up that proposition; and having examined it in every light, with the utmost attentoin, they conclude with a firm and dignified rejection of it, and an appeal “to the even-handed justice of that Being who doth no wrong; earnestly beseeching him to illuminate the councils, and prosper the endeavours, of those to whom America had confided her hopes, that through their wise direction, we may again see re-united, the blessings of liberty and prosperity, and the most permanent harmony with Great Britain.” *

It was not until the 4th, that the preliminary arrangements for the discussion were settled. Mr. Pendleton had been unanimously elected the president of the convention; but it having been determined that the subject should be debated in committee of the whole, the house of that day, resolved itself into committee, and the venerable Mr. Wythe was called to the chair. In conformity with the order which had been taken, to discuss the constitution, clause by clause, the clerk now read the preamble and the two first sections; and the debate was opened by Mr. George Nicholas. He confined himself strictly to the sections under consideration, and maintained their policy with great cogency of argument. Mr. Henry rose next, and soon demonstrated that his excursions were not to be restrained by the rigour of rules. Instead of proceeding to answer Mr. Nicholas, he commenced by sounding an alarm calculated to produce a most powerful impression. The effect, however, will be entirely lost upon the reader, unless he shall associate with the speech, which I am about to lay before him, that awful solemnity and look of fearful portent, by which Mr. Henry could imply even more than he expressed; and that slow, distinct, emphatic enunciation, by which he never failed to move the souls of his hearers.

This inquiry was answered by an eloquent speech from Mr. Randolph; and the debate passed into other hands; until on the next day, general Lee, in reference to Mr. Henry's opening speech, addressed the chair as follows:

In the further progress of his speech, general Lee again said, rather tauntingly, of Mr. Henry:—“The gentleman sat down as he began, leaving us to ruminate on the horrors with which he opened.”

Mr. Henry rising immediately after these sarcastic remarks, gave a striking specimen of that dignified self-command, and that strict and uniform decorum, by which he was so pre-eminently distinguished in debate. Far from retorting the sarcasms of his adversary, he seemed to have heard nothing but the compliments with which they stood connected, and rising slowly from his seat, with a countenance expressive of unaffected humility, he began with the following modest and disqualifying exordium.

“Mr. Chairman—I am much obliged to the very worthy gentleman for his encomium. I wish I was possessed of talents, or possessed of any thing, that might enable me to elucidate this great subject. I own, sir, I am not free from suspicion. I am apt to entertain doubts. I rose on yesterday, not to enter upon the discussion, but merely to ask a question which had arisen in my own mind. When I asked that question, I thought the meaning of my interrogation was obvious. The fate of America may depend on this question. Have they said, we, the states? Have they made a proposal of a compact between states. If they had, this would be a confederation; it is, otherwise, most clearly, a consolidated government. The whole question turns, sir, on that poor little thing; the expression, we, the people, instead of, the states of America.”

He then proceeded to set forth, in terrible array, his various objections to the constitution; not confining himself to the clauses under debate, but ranging through the whole instrument, and passing from objection to objection, as they followed each other in his mind. This departure from the rule of the house, although at first view censurable, was insisted upon by himself and his colleagues, as being indispensable to a just examination of the particular clause under consideration; because the policy or impolicy of any provision, did not always depend upon itself alone, but on other provisions with which it stood connected, and indeed, upon the whole system of powers and checks that were associated with it in the same instrument, and thus formed only parts of one entire whole. The truth of this position, in relation to some of the provisions, could not be justly denied; and a departure once made from the rigour of the rule, the debate became at large, on every part of the constitution; the disputants at every stage, looking forward and backward throughout the whole instrument, without any controul other than their own discretion. Thus freed from restraints, under which his genius was at all times impatient, uncoupled and let loose to range the whole field at pleasure, Mr. Henry seemed to have recovered, and to luxuriate in all the powers of his youth. He had, indeed, occasion for them all; for while he was supported by only three effective auxiliaries, opposed to him stood a phalanx, most formidable both for talents and weight of character; and of several of whom it might be said, with truth, that each was “in himself a host;” for at the head of the opposing ranks stood Mr. Pendleton—Mr. Wythe—Mr. Madison —Mr. Marshall—Mr. Nicholas—Mr. Randolph—Mr. Innis—Mr. Henry Lee—and Mr. Corbin. Fearful odds! and such as called upon him for the most strenuous exertion of all his faculties. Nor did he sink below the occasion. For twenty days, during which this great discussion continued without intermission, his efforts were sustained, not only with undiminished strength, but with powers which seemed to gather new force from every exertion. All the faculties useful for debate were found united in him, with a degree of perfection, in which they are rarely seen to exist, even separately, in different individuals: irony, ridicule, the purest wit, the most comic humour, exclamations that made the soul start, the most affecting pathos, and the most sublime apostrophes, lent their aid to enforce his reasoning, and to put to flight the arguments of his adversaries.

The objection that the constitution substituted a consolidated in lieu of a confederated government, and that this new consolidated government threatened the total annihilation of the state sovereignties, was pressed by him with most masterly power: he said there was no necessity for a change of government, so entire and fundamental—and no inducement to it, unless it was to be found in this splendid government, which we were told was to make us a great and mighty people.

“We have no detail,” said he, “of those great considerations, which, in my opinion, ought to have abounded, before we should recur to a government of this kind. Here is a revolution as radical as that which separated us from Great Britain. It is as radical, if in this transition our rights and privileges are endangered, and the sovereignty of the states be relinquished: and cannot we plainly see, that this is actually the case? The rights of conscience, trial by jury, liberty of the press, all your immunities and franchises, all pretensions to human rights and privileges, are rendered insecure, if not lost, by this change so loudly tolled of by some, and so inconsiderately by others. Is this tame relinquishment of rights worthy of freemen? Is it worthy of that manly fortitude that ought to characterize republicans? It is said eight states have adopted this plan: I declare, that if twelve states and an half had adopted it, I would with manly firmness, and in spite of an erring world, reject it. You are not to inquire how your trade may be increased, nor how you are to become a great and powerful people, but how your liberties can be secured; for liberty ought to be the direct end of your government. Is it necessary for your liberty, that you should abandon those great rights by the adoption of this system? Is the relinquishment of the trial by jury, and the liberty of the press, necessary for your liberty? Will the abandonment of your most sacred rights tend to the security of your liberty? Liberty, the greatest of all earthly blessings—give us that precious jewel, and you may take every thing else! But I am fearful I have lived long enough to become an old fashioned fellow. Perhaps an invincible attachment to the dearest rights of man, may, in these refined, enlightened days, be deemed old fashioned: if so, I am contented to be so: I say, the time has been, when every pulse of my heart beat for American liberty, and which, I believe, had a counterpart in the breast of every true American; but suspicions have gone forth— suspicions of my integrity—publicly reported that my professions are not real—twenty-three years ago was I supposed a traitor to my country: I was then said to be a bane of sedition, because I supported the rights of my county: I may be thought suspicious, when I say our privileges and rights are in danger: but sir, a number of the people of this country are weak enough to think these things are too true. I am happy to find, that the gentleman on the other side declares they are groundless: but sir, suspicion is a virtue, as long as its object is the preservation of the public good, and as long as it stays within proper bounds: should it fall on me, I am contented: conscious rectitude is a powerful consolation: I trust there are many who think my professions for the public good to be real. Let your suspicion look to both sides: there are many on the other side, who possibly may have been persuaded of the necessity of these measures, which I conceive to be dangerous to your liberty. Guard with jealous attention, the public liberty. Suspect every one who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force: whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined. I am answered by gentlemen, that though I might speak of terrors, yet the fact was, that we were surrounded by none of the dangers I apprehended. I conceive this new government to be one of those dangers: it has produced those horrors, which distress many of our best citizens. We are come hither to preserve the poor commonwealth of Virginia, if it can be possibly done: something must be done to preserve your liberty and mine. The confederation, this same despised government, merits in my opinion, the highest encomium: it carried us through a long and dangerous war: it rendered us victorious in that bloody conflict with a powerful nation: it has secured us a territory greater than any European monarch possesses: and shall a government which has been thus strong and vigorous, be accused of imbecility, and abandoned for want of energy? Consider what you are about to do, before you part with this government. Take longer time in reckoning things: revolutions like this have happened in almost every country in Europe; similar examples are to be found in ancient Greece and ancient Rome: instances of the people losing their liberty by their own carelessness and the ambition of a few. We are cautioned by the honourable gentleman who presides, against faction and turbulence: I acknowledge that licentiousness is dangerous, and that it ought to be provided against: I acknowledge also, the new form of government may effectually prevent it: yet there is another thing, it will as effectually do: it will oppress and ruin the people. There are sufficient guards placed against faction and licentiousness: for when power is given to this government to suppress these, or for any other purpose, the language it assumes is clear, express, and unequivocal: but when this constitution speaks of privileges, there is an ambiguity, sir, a fatal ambiguity, an ambiguity which is very astonishing!”

The adoption of the instrument had been maintained upon the ground that it should increase our military strength, and enable us to resist the lawless ambition of foreign princes:—it had been urged too, that if the convention should rise without adopting the instrument, disunion and anarchy would be the certain consequences. In answer to these topics he said—“Happy will you be, if you miss the fate of those nations, who omitting to resist their oppressors, or negligently suffering their liberty to be wrested from them, have groaned under intolerable despotism! Most of the human race are now in this deplorable condition. And those nations who have gone in search of grandeur, power, and splendour, have also fallen a sacrifice, and been the victims of their own folly. While they acquired those visionary blessings, they lost their freedom. My great objection to this government is, that it does not leave us the means of defending our rights, or of waging war against tyrants. It is urged by some gentlemen, that this new plan will bring us an acquisition of strength, an army, and the militia of the states. This is an idea extremely ridiculous: gentlemen cannot be in earnest. This acquisition will trample on your fallen liberty! Let my beloved Americans guard against that fatal lethargy that has pervaded the universe. Have we the means of resisting disciplined armies, when our only defence, the militia, is put into the hands of congress? The honourable gentleman said, that great danger would ensue, if the convention rose without adopting this system. I ask, where is that danger? I see none. Other gentlemen have told us within these walls, that the union is gone—or, that the union will be gone. Is not this trifling with the judgment of their fellow-citizens? Till they tell us the ground of their fears, I will consider them as imaginary. I rose to make inquiry where those dangers were; they could make no answer: I believe I never shall have that answer. Is there a disposition in the people of this country to revolt against the dominion of laws? Has there been a single tumult in Virginia? Have not the people of Virginia, when labouring under the severest pressure of accumulated distresses, manifested the most cordial acquiescence in the execution of the laws? What could be more awful than their unanimous acquiescence under general distresses? Is there any revolution in Virginia? Whither is the spirit of America gone? Whither is the genius of America fled? It was but yesterday when our enemies marched in triumph through our country. Yet the people of this country could not be appalled by their pompous armaments: they stopped their career, and victoriously captured them! Where is the peril now, compared to that? Some minds are agitated by foreign alarms: Happily for us, there is no real danger from Europe: that country is engaged in more arduous business: from that quarter there is no cause of fear: you may sleep in safety for ever for them. Where is the danger? If sir, there was any, I would recur to the American spirit to defend us—that spirit which has enabled us to surmount the greatest difficulties: to that illustrious spirit I address my most fervent prayer, to prevent our adopting a system destructive to liberty. Let not gentlemen be told that it is not safe to reject this government. Wherefore is it not safe? We are told there are dangers; but those dangers are ideal; they cannot be demonstrated. To encourage us to adopt it, they tell us that there is a plain easy way of getting amendments. When I come to contemplate this part, I suppose that I am mad, or that my countrymen are so. The way to amendment, is in my conception shut. Let us consider this plain, easy way.”

He then proceeds to demonstrate, that as the constitution required the concurrence of three-fourths of the states to any amendment, it followed that six-tenths of the people, in four of the smallest states, (not containing collectively one-tenth part of the population of the United States) would have it in their power to defeat the most salutary amendments; and then asks, “Is this, sir, an easy mode of securing the public liberty? It is, sir, a most fearful situation, when the most contemptible minority can prevent the alteration of the most oppressive government: for it may, in many respects, prove to be such. Is this the spirit of republicanism? What, sir, is the genius of democracy? Let me read that clause of the bill of rights of Virginia, which relates to this: 3d Art. ‘That government is, or ought to be, instituted for the common benefit, protection, and security of the people, nation, or community; of all the various modes and forms of government, that is best which is capable of producing the greatest degree of happiness and safety, and is most effectually secured against the danger of mal-administration; and that whenever any government shall be found inadequate, or contrary to these purposes, a majority of the community hath an indubitable, unalienable, and indefeasible right to reform, alter, or abolish it, in such manner as shall be judged most conducive to the public weal.’ This, sir, is the language of democracy; that a majority of the community have a right to alter their government when found to be oppressive; but how different is the genius of your new constitution from this? How different from the sentiments of freemen, that a contemptible minority can prevent the good of the majority? If then, gentlemen standing on this ground, are come to that point, that they are willing to bind themselves and their posterity to be oppressed, I am amazed, and inexpressibly astonished! If this be the opinion of the majority, I must submit; but to me, sir, it appears perilous and destructive; I cannot help thinking so; perhaps it may be the result of my age; these may be feelings natural to a man of my years, when the American spirit has left him, and his mental powers, like the members of the body, are decayed. If, sir, amendments are left to the twentieth, or to the tenth part of the people of America, your liberty is gone for ever. We have heard that there is a great deal of bribery practised in the house of commons in England; and that many of the numbers raised themselves to preferments by selling the rights of the people. But, sir, the tenth part of that body cannot continue oppressions on the rest of the people. English liberty is, in this case, on a firmer foundation than American liberty. It will be easily contrived to procure the opposition of one-tenth of the people to any alteration, however judicious.”

Mr. Pendleton had repelled the idea of danger from the adoption of the constitution, on the ground of the facility with which the people could recall their delegated powers and change their servants.—“We will assemble in conventions,” said Mr. Pendleton, “wholly recall our delegated powers, or reform them so as to prevent such abuse, and punish our servants.” In reply to this, Mr. Henry said—

“The honourable gentleman who presides, told us, that to prevent abuses in our government, we will assemble in convention, recall our delegated powers, and punish our servants for abusing the trust reposed in them. Oh, sir, we should have fine times indeed, if to punish tyrants, it were only necessary to assemble the people! Your arms, wherewith you could defend yourselves, are gone! and you have no longer an aristocratical, no longer a democratical spirit. Did you ever read of any revolution in any nation, brought about by the punishment of those in power, inflicted by those who had no power at all? You read of a riot act in a country which is called one of the freest in the world, where a few neighbours cannot assemble, without the risk of being shot by a hired soldiery, the engines of despotism. We may see such an act in America. A standing army we shall have also, to execute the execrable commands of tyranny: and how are you to punish them? Will you order them to be punished? Who shall obey these orders? Will your mace-bearer be a match for a disciplined regiment? In what situation are we to be? The clause before you gives a power of direct taxation, unbounded and unlimited; exclusive power of legislation, in all cases whatsoever, for ten miles square; and over all places purchased for the erection of forts, magazines, arsenals, dock yards, &c. What resistance could be made? The attempt would be madness. You will find all the strength of this country in the hands of your enemies; those garrisons will naturally be the strongest places in the country. Your militia is given up to congress also, in another part of this plan; they will, therefore, act as they think proper; all power will be in their own possession; you cannot force them to receive their punishment.”

He continued to ridicule very successfully the alluring idea of the expected splendour of the new government, and the imaginary checks and balances which were said to exist in this constitution:

“If we admit,” said he, “this consolidated government, it will be because we like a great splendid one. Some way or other we must be a great and mighty empire; we must have an army, and a navy, and a number of things! When the American spirit was in its youth, the language of America was different: liberty, sir, was then the primary object.” And again: “This constitution is said to have beautiful features; but when I come to examine these features, sir, they appear to me horridly frightful! among other deformities, it has an awful squinting; it squints towards monarchy! And does not this raise indignation in the heart of every true American? Your president may easily become king; your senate is so imperfectly constructed, that your dearest rights may be sacrificed by what may be a small minority; and a very small minority may continue, for ever, unchangeable, this government, although horridly defective; where are your checks in this government? Your strong holds will be in the hands of your enemies; it is on a supposition that your American governors shall be honest, that all the good qualities of this government are founded; but its defective and imperfect construction, puts it in their power to perpetrate the worst of mischiefs, should they be bad men; and, sir, would not all the world, from the eastern to the western hemisphere, blame our distracted folly in resting our rights upon the contingency of our rulers being good or bad? Show me that age and country, where the rights and liberties of the people were placed on the sole chance of their rulers being good men, without a consequent loss of liberty? I say, that the loss of that dearest privilege has ever followed, with absolute certainty, every such mad attempt. If your American chief be a man of ambition and abilities, how easy is it for him to render himself absolute! The army is in his hands; and, if he be a man of address, it will be attached to him; and it will be the subject of long meditation with him to seize the first auspicious moment to accomplish his design; and, sir, will the American spirit, solely, relieve you when this happens? I would rather infinitely, and I am sure most of this convention are of the same opinion, have a king, lords, and commons, than a government so replete with such insupportable evils. If we make a king, we may prescribe the rules by which he shall rule his people, and interpose such checks as shall prevent him from infringing them: but the president in the field, at the head of his army, can prescribe the terms on which he shall reign master, so far that it will puzzle any American ever to get his neck from under the galling yoke. I cannot, with patience, think of this idea. If ever he violates the laws, one of two things will happen: he will come at the head of his army to carry every thing before him; or he will give bail, or do what Mr. Chief Justice will order him. If he be guilty, will not the recollection of his crimes teach him to make one bold push for the American throne? Will not the immense difference between being master of every thing, and being ignominiously tried and punished, powerfully excite him to make this bold push? But, sir, where is the existing force to punish him? Can he not at the head of his army, beat down every opposition? Away with your president; we shall have a king: the army will salute him monarch; your militia will leave you, and assist in making him king, and fight against you: and what have you to oppose this force? What will then become of you and your fights? Will not absolute despotism ensue?” [Here Mr. Henry strongly and pathetically expatiated on the probability of the president's enslaving America, and the horrid consequences that must result.]

After the frank admission of the reporter, exhibited by the words contained within those brackets, that he had not attempted to follow Mr. Henry in this pathetic excursion, the reader will perceive, that it would be doing injustice to the memory of that eminent man, to multiply extracts from this book, as specimens of his eloquence. The stenographer who should be able to take down Mr. Henry's speeches, word for word, must have other qualities, beside the perfect mastery of his art: he must have the perfect mastery of himself, and be able, for the moment, to play the mere automaton: for without such self-command, no man who had a human heart in his bosom, could listen to his startling exclamations, or horror-breathing tones, without keeping his eyes immoveably rivetted upon the speaker. His dominion over his hearers was so absolute, that it was idle to think of resisting him; you would as soon think of resisting the lightning of heaven. The very tone of voice, in which he would address the chairman, when he felt the inspiration of his genius rising—“Mr. Chairman”—and the awful pause which followed this call—fixed upon him at once every eye in the assembly: and then his own rapt countenance!—those eyes which seemed to beam with light from another world, and under whose fiery glance the crest of the proudest adversary fell! his majestic attitudes, and that bold, strong, and varied action, which spoke forth with so much power, the energies of his own great spirit, rendered his person a spectacle so sublime and so awfully interesting, that to look in any other direction when the spell was upon him, was not to be expected from any man who had eyes to see and ears to hear. Little cause have we therefore to wonder or to complain, that a gentleman of Mr. Robertson's lively admiration of genius, and of his quick and kindling sensibility, was sometimes bedimmed by his own tears, and at others, torn from his task by those master flights, which rustled like a mighty whirlwind from the earth, and carried up every thing in their vortex.

The chief objections taken to the constitution are reducible to the following heads.

I. That it was a consolidated, instead of a confederated government: that in making it so, the delegates at Philadelphia had transcended the limits of their comission: changed fundamentally the relations which the states had chosen to bear to each other: annihilated their respective sovereignties: destroyed the barriers which divided them: and converted the whole into one solid empire. To this leading objection, almost all the rest had reference, and were urged principally with the view to illustrate and enforce it.

II. The vast and alarming array of specific powers given to the general government, and the wide door opened for an unlimited extension of those powers, by the clauses which authorized congress to pass all laws necessary to carry the given powers into effect. It was urged, that this clause rendered the previous specification of powers an idle illusion: since by the force of construction arising from that clause, congress might easily do any thing and every thing it chose, under the pretence of giving effect to some specified power.

III. The unlimited power of taxation of all kinds: the states were no longer to be required in their federative characters, to contribute their respective proportions towards the expenses and engagements of the general government: but congress were authorized to go directly to the pockets of the people, and sweep from them, en masse, from north to south, whatever portion of the earnings of the industrious poor, the rapacity of the general government or their schemes of ambitious grandeur might suggest. It was contended that such a power could not be exercised, without just complaint, over a county so extensive, and so diversified in its productions and the pursuits of its people: that it was impossible to select any subject of general taxation which would not operate unequally on the different sections of the union, produce discontent and heart burnings among the people, and most probably terminate in open resistance to the laws: that the representatives in congress were too few to carry with them a knowledge of the wants and capacities of the people in the different parts of a large state: and that the representation could not be made full enough to attain that object, without becoming oppressively expensive to the county: that hence taxation ought to be left to the states themselves, whose representation was full, who best knew the habits and circumstances of their constituents, and on what subjects a tax could be most conveniently laid: Mr. Henry said that he was willing to grant this power conditionally; that is, upon the failure of the states to comply with requisitions from congress: but that the absolute and unconditional grant of it in the first instance, filled his mind with the most awful anticipations. It was resolved, he saw clearly, that we must be a great and splendid people: and that in order to be so, immense revenues must be raised from the people: the people were to be bowed down under the load of their taxes, direct and indirect: and a swarm of federal tax gatherers were to cover this land, to blight every blade of grass, and every leaf of vegetation, and consume its productions for the enrichment of themselves and their masters: it was not contended, he supposed, but that the state legislatures also, might impose taxes for their own internal purposes; thus the people were to be doubly oppressed, and between the state sheriffs and the federal sheriffs, to be ground to dust: on this subject he drew such a vivid and affecting picture of these officers, entering in succession the cabin of the broken-hearted peasant, and the last one rifling the poor remains which the first had left, as is said to have drawn tears from every eye.

IV. The power of raising armies and building navies, and still more emphatically, the controul given to the general government over the militia of the states, was most strenuously opposed. The power thus given, was a part of the means of that aggrandizement which was obviously meditated, and there could be no doubt that it would be exercised: so that this republic, whose best policy was peace, was to be saddled with the expense of maintaining standing armies and navies, useless for any other purpose than to insult her citizens, to afford a pretext for increased taxes, and an augmented public debt, and finally to subvert the liberties of her people; her militia too, her last remaining defence, was gone. “Congress,” said Mr. Henry, “by the power of taxation— by that of raising an army and navy—and by their controul over the militia—have the sword in the one hand, and the purse in the other. Shall we be safe without either? Congress have an unlimited power over both; they are entirely given up by us. Let him (Mr. Madison) candidly tell me, where and when did freedom exist, when the sword and purse were given up from the people? Unless a miracle in human affairs shall interpose, no nation ever did or ever can retain its liberty, after the loss of the sword and the purse.”

The unlimited controul over the militia was vehemently opposed, on the ground, that the marching militia from distant states, to quell insurrection, and repel invasions, and keeping the free yeomanry of the county under the lash of martial law, would in the first instance, produce an effect extremely inimical to the peace and harmony of the union; and in the next, harass the agricultural body of the people so much, as to reconcile them, as a less evil to that curse of nations, and bane of freedom, a standing army:—and secondly, this power was opposed, on the ground, that congress, under the boundless charter of constructive power which it possessed, might transfer to the president the power of calling forth the militia, and thus enable him to disarm all opposition to his schemes.

V. The several clauses providing for the federal judiciary were objected to, on the ground of the clashing jurisdictions of the state and federal courts; and secondly, because infinite power was given to congress to multiply inferior federal courts, at pleasure: a power which they should not fail to exercise, in order to swell the patronage of the president, to their own emolument; and thus enable him to reward their devotion to his views, by bestowing on them and their dependents, those offices which they had themselves created.

VI. It was contended that the trial by jury was gone in civil cases, by that clause which gives to the supreme court appellate power over the law and the fact in every case: and which thereby enabled that tribunal to annihilate both the verdict and judgment of the inferior courts: and that in criminal cases also, the trial by jury was worse than gone, because it was admitted, that the common law which alone gave the challenge for favour would not be in force, as to the federal courts: and hence, a jury might, in every instance, be packed to suit the purposes of the prosecution.

VII. The authority of the president to take the command of the armies of the United States, in person, was warmly resisted: on the ground, that if he were a military character, and a man of address; he might easily convert them into an engine for the worst of purposes.

VIII. The cession of the whole treaty-making power to the president and senate, was considered as one of the most formidable features in the instrument: in as much as it put it in the power of the president and any ten senators, who might represent the five smallest states, to enter into the most ruinous foreign engagements, and even to cede away by treaty, any portion of the territory of the larger states: it was insisted, that the lower house, who were the immediate representatives of the people, instead of being excluded as they were by the constitution from all participation in the treaty-making power, ought at least, to be consulted, if not to have the principal agency in so interesting a national act.

IX. The immense patronage of the president was objected to: because it placed in his hands the means of corrupting the congress, the navy, and army, and of distributing, moreover, throughout the society, a band of retainers in the shape of judges, revenue officers, and tax gatherers, which would render him irresistible in any scheme of ambition that he might meditate against the liberties of his country.

X. The irresponsibility of the whole gang of federal officers (as they were called) was objected to: there was, indeed, in some instances, a power of impeachment pretended to be given, but it was mere sham and mockery; since instead of being tried by a tribunal, zealous and interested to bring them to justice, they were to try each other for offences, in which, probably, they were all mutually implicated.

1. The first was, the plea of payment generally, on which the plaintiff took issue; but it was not tried, the cause having gone off on the demurrers growing out of the subsequent pleadings.

2. In his second plea, the defendant relies on the act of sequestration passed by the legislature of Virginia during the revolutionary war, to wit, on the 20th of October, 1777; by which it was enacted, that “it should be lawful for any citizen of this commonwealth, owing money to a subject of Great Britain, to pay the same, or any part thereof, from time to time, as he should think fit, into the loan office of the state; taking thereout a certificate for the same in the name of the creditor, with an indorsement under the hand of the commissioner of the loan office, expressing the name of the payee, delivering such certificate to the governor and council, whose receipt should discharge him from so much of the debt:”—and the defendant exhibits the governor's receipt for 2151 l. 18s. which he offers in bar, to so much of the plaintiff's demand.

3. In his third plea, he sets out the act of forfeiture, passed by the assembly on the 3d of May, 1779, whereby it was, among other things, enacted, “that all the property, real and personal, within the commonwealth belonging at that time to any British subject should be deemed to be vested in the commonwealth;” as also the act of the 6th of May, 1789, whereby it was enacted, “that no demand whatsoever, originally due to a subject of Great Britain, should be recoverable in any court in this commonwealth, although the same might be transferred to a citizen of this state, or to any other person capable of maintaining such action, unless the assignment had been or might be made for a valuable consideration bona fide paid before the first of May, 1777:” and the plea insists, that the debt in the declaration mentioned, was personal property of a British subject, forfeited to the commonwealth under the first mentioned act, and a demand, whose recovery in the courts of the commonwealth, was barred by the last.

4. The fourth plea takes the ground, that the king of Britain and his subjects were still alien enemies, and that the state of war still continued, on the ground of the several direct violations of the definitive treaty of peace, which follow:—1. In continuing to carry off the negroes in his possession, the property of American citizens and refusing to deliver them, or permit the owners to take them, according to the express stipulations of that treaty:—2. In the forcible detention of the forts Niagara and Detroit, and the adjacent territory:— 3. In supplying the Indians, who were at war with the United States, with arms and ammunition, furnished within the territories of the United States, to visit, at the forts Detroit and Niagara, and at other forts and stations forcibly held by the troops and armies of the king, within the United States, and in purchasing from the Indians, within the territories aforesaid, the plunder taken by them in war, from the United States, and the persons of American citizens made prisoners; which several infractions, the plea contends, had abolished the treaty of peace, and placed Great Britain and the United States, in a state of war, and that hence, the plaintiff, being an alien enemy, had no right to sue in the courts of the United States.

5. The fifth plea sets forth, that at the time of contracting the debt in the declaration mentioned, the plaintiff and the defendant were fellow-subjects of the same king and government: that on the fourth of July 1776, the government of the British monarch in this country, was dissolved, and the co-allegiance of the parties severed; whereby the plea contends, that the debt in the declaration mentioned was annulled.

To the second plea the plaintiff replied, insisting on the treaty of peace of 1783, whereby it was stipulated that creditors on either side should meet with no lawful impediment to the recovery of the full value, in sterling money, of all bona fide debts, theretofore contracted; and also on the constitution of the United States of 1787, by which it had been expressly declared, that treaties which were then made, or which should thereafter be made, under the authority of the United States, should be the supreme law of the land, any thing in the constitution, or the laws of any state to the contrary notwithstanding.

The defendant rejoined, that the treaty had been annulled by the infractions of it on the part of Great Britain, and so could not aid the cause of the plaintiff,— and farther, that the debt in the declaration mentioned was not bona fide due, and owing to the plaintiff at the date of the treaty, in so much as the same (or at least 2151l. 18s. of it) had been discharged by the payment set forth in the second plea; and hence that it was not a subsisting debt, within the terms and provisions of the treaty.

To this rejoinder, as also to the third, fourth, and fifth pleas of the defendant, the plaintiff demurred; and the cause came on to be argued, on these demurrers, at Richmond on the 24th of November 1791.

The Virginian reader will readily estimate the splendour and power of the discussion in this case, when he learns the names of the counsel engaged in it: on the part of the plaintiff then, were Mr. Ronald, Mr. Baker, Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Starke; and on that of the defendant, Mr. Henry, Mr. Marshall, (the present chief justice of the United States) Mr. Alexander Campbell, Mr. Innis, the attorney general of Virginia: I mention their names in the order in which they spoke on their respective sides.

The cause was opened with great fairness and ability, by Mr. Ronald and Mr. Baker, in succession; they were answered by all the counsel of the defendant; and Mr. Wickham, Mr. Starke, and Mr. Baker were heard in the reply.

The opening counsel made the following points:

First, That debts were not a subject of confiscation, in war.

Secondly, That if they were, Virginia at the time of passing the acts relied on by the defendant, was not a sovereign and independent state; Great Britain, not having at that time assented to her independence; and hence, that she had not the power of legislating away the debts of fellow-subjects, not represented in her legislative councils—which councils were themselves, a usurpation, in the eye of the law.

Thirdly, That if debts were subject to confiscation, and Virginia were competent to pass laws to that effect, she had not done so; and Mr. Baker, particularly, entered into a minute and ingenious scrutiny of the language of the several acts of assembly, to prove that, so far from having been forfeited, the debts were recognized as existing British debts down to the year 1782.

Fourthly, That if all these points were against the plaintiff, the right of recovering those debts was restored by the treaty of 1783, and the constitution of the United States, which recognized that treaty as the supreme law of the land; and,

Fifthly, That the alleged infractions of the treaty on the part of Great Britain, did not produce the effect of abolishing the treaty; that this was a national concern, with which the individual plaintiff and defendant had nothing to do; that the question of infraction was one to be decided by the supreme power of the nation only, and one of which the court could not, with any propriety, take cognizance.

Mr. Baker closed his opening speech on Thursday evening the 24th of November, and it was publicly understood that Mr. Henry was to commence his reply on the next day. The legislature was then in session; but when 11 o'clock, the hour for the meeting of the court, arrived, the speaker found himself without a house to do business. All his authority and that of his sergeant at arms were unavailing to keep the members in their seats; every consideration of public duty yielded to the anxiety which they felt, in common with the rest of their fellow-citizens, to hear this great man on this truly great and extensively interesting question. Accordingly, when the court was ready to proceed to business, the court room of the capitol, large as it is, was insufficient to contain the vast concourse that was pressing to enter it. The portico, and the area in which the statue of Washington stands, were filled with a disappointed crowd, who nevertheless maintained their stand without. In the court room itself, the judges, through condescension to the public anxiety, relaxed the rigour of respect which they were in the habit of exacting, and permitted the vacant seats of the bench, and even the windows behind it, to be occupied by the impatient multitude. The noise and tumult occasioned by seeking a more favourable station was at length hushed, and the profound silence which reigned within the room gave notice to those without, that the orator had risen, or was on the point of rising. Every eye in front of the bar was rivetted upon him with the most eager attention: and so still and deep was the silence, that every one might hear the throbbing of his own heart. Mr. Henry however, appeared wholly unconscious that all this preparation was on his account, and rose with as much simplicity and composure, as if the occasion had been one of ordinary occurrence. Nothing can be more plain, modest, and unaffected, than his exordium:—“I stand here, may it please your honours, to support according to my power, that side of the question which respects the American debtor. I beg leave to beseech the patience of this honourable court; because the subject is very great and important, and because I have not only the greatness of the subject to consider, but those numerous observations which have come from the opposing counsel to answer. Thus therefore, the matter proper for my discussion is unavoidably accumulated. Sir, there is a circumstance in this case, that is more to be deplored than that which I have just mentioned; and that is this:—Those animosities, which the injustice of the British nation hath produced, and which I had well hoped would never again be the subject of discussion, are necessarily brought forth. The conduct of that nation, which bore so hard upon us in the late contest, becomes once more the subject of investigation. I know, sir, how well it becomes a liberal man and a Christian to forget and to forgive. As individuals, professing a holy religion, it is out bounden duty to forgive injuries done us as individuals. But, when to the character of Christian you add the character of patriot, you are in a different situation. Our mild and holy system of religion inculcates an admirable maxim of forbearance. If your enemy smites one cheek, turn the other to him. But you must stop there. You cannot apply this to your country. As members of a social community, this maxim does not apply to you. When you consider injuries done to your country, your political duty tells you of vengeance. Forgive as a private man, but never forgive public injuries. Observations of this nature are exceedingly unpleasant, but it is my duty to use them.”

With the same primeval simplicity, he enters upon the argument; not making a formal division of the whole subject, but merely announcing the single proposition which he was about to maintain, for the time; thus, immediately after the exordium which has been quoted, he proceeds thus:

“The first point which I shall endeavour to establish will be, that debts, in common wars, become subject to forfeiture; and if forfeited in common wars, much more must they be so, in a revolution war, as the late contest was. In considering this subject, it is will be necessary to define what a debt is.—I mean by it an engagement, or promise by one man to pay to another for a valuable consideration, an adequate price. By a contract thus made, for a valuable consideration, there arises what, in the law phrase is called a lien, on the body and goods of the promissor or debtor. This interest which the creditor becomes entitled to, in the goods and body, of his debtor, is such as may be taken from the creditor, if he be found the subject of a hostile country. This position is supported by the following authorities.” He then cites and reads copious extracts from Grotius and Vattel, which seem to support his position decisively —and then proceeds thus: “This authority decides in the most clear and satisfactory manner, that, as a nation, we had powers as extensive and unlimited as any nation on earth. This great writer, after stating the equality and independence of nations, and who are, and who are not enemies, does away the distinction between corporeal and incorporeal rights, and declares that war gives the same right over the debts, as over the other goods of an enemy. He illustrates his doctrine by the instance of Alexander's remitting to the Thessalians, a debt due by them to the Theban commonwealth —This is a case in point—For supposing the subjects of Alexander had been indebted to the Thebans, might he not have remitted the debts due by them to that people, as well as the debts due them by his allies, the Thessalians? Let me not be told that he was entitled to the goods of the Thebans, because he had conquered then. If he could remit a debt due by those whose claim of friendship was so inferior, those who were only attached to him by the feeble ties of contingent and temporary alliance—if his Macedonians, his immediate and natural subjects, were indebted to the Thebans, could he not have remitted their debts? This author states in clear, unequivocal terms, by fair inference and unavoidable deduction, that when two nations are at war, either nation has a right, according to the laws of nature and nations, to remit to its own citizens, debts which they may owe to the enemy. If this point wanted further elucidation—it is pointedly proved by the authority which I first quoted from Grotius, that it is an inseparable concomitant of sovereign power; that debts, and contracts similar to those which existed in America, at the time the war with Great Britain broke out, may, in virtue of the eminent domain or right, be cancelled and destroyed. ‘A king has a greater right in the goods of his subjects, for the public advantage, than the proprietors themselves. And when the exigency of the state requires a supply, every man is more obliged to contribute towards it, than to satisfy his creditors. The sovereign may discharge a debtor from the obligation of paying, either for a certain time or for ever.’ What language can be more expressive than this? Can the mind of man conceive any thing more comprehensive? Rights are of two sorts, private or inferior— or eminent and superior, such as the community hold over the persons and estates of its members for the common benefit. The latter is paramount to the former.— A king or chief of a nation, has a greater right than the owner himself, over any property in the nation. The individual who owns private property cannot dispose of it, contrary to the will of his sovereign, to injure the public. This author is known to be no advocate for tyranny, yet he mentions that a king has a superior power over the property in his nation, and that by virtue thereof, he may discharge his subjects for ever from debts which they owe to an enemy.

“The instance which our author derives from the Roman history, affords a striking instance of the length to which the necessities and exigencies of a nation will warrant it to go. It was a juncture critical to the Roman affairs. But their situation was not more critical or dangerous than ours, at the time these debts were confiscated. It was after the total defeat, and dreadful slaughter at Cannæ, when the state was in the most imminent danger. Our situation in the late war was equally perilous. Every consideration must give way to the public safety. That admirable Roman maxim, salus populi suprema lex, governed that people in every emergency. It is a maxim that ought to govern every community. It was not peculiar to the Roman people. The impression came from the same source from which we derive our existence. Self-preservation, that great dictate implanted in us by nature, must regulate our conduct; we must have a power to act according to our necessities, and it remains for human judgment to decide what are the proper occasions for the exercise of this power. Call to your recollection our situation during the late arduous contest. Was it not necessary in our day of trial, to go to the last iota of human right? The Romans fought for their altars and household gods. By these terms they meant every thing dear and valuable to men. Was not our stake as important as theirs? But many other nations engage in the most bloody wars, for the most trivial and frivolous causes. If other nations who carried on wars for a mere point of honour, or a punctilio of gallantry, were warranted in the exercise of this power; were not we, who fought for every thing most inestimable and valuable to mankind, justified in using it? Our finances were in a more distressing situation than theirs at this awful period of our existence. Our war was in opposition to the most grievous oppression—we resisted, and our resistance was approved and blessed by heaven. The most illustrious men who have considered human affairs, when they have revolved human rights, and considered how far a nation is warranted to act in cases of emergency, declare that the only ingredient essential to the rectitude and validity of its measures is, that they be for the public good. I need hardly observe that the confiscation of these debt was for the public good. Those who decided it, were constitutionally enabled to determine it. Grotius shows that you have not only power over the goods of your enemies, but according to the exigency of affairs, you may seize the property of your citizens.” After reading the opposite passage from Grotius, he says—“I read these authorities to prove, that the property of an enemy is liable to forfeiture, and that debts are as much the subject of hostile contest as tangible property. And Vattel, p. 484, as before mentioned, pointedly enumerates rights and debts among such property of the enemy, as is liable to confiscation. To this last author, I must frequently resort in the course of my argument. I put great confidence in him, from the weight of his authority,—for he is universally respected by all the wise and enlightened of mankind, being no less celebrated for his great judgment and knowledge, than for his universal philanthrophy. One of his first principles of the law of nations, is a perfect equality of rights among nations: that each nation ought to be left in the peaceable enjoyment of that liberty it has derived from nature. I refer your honours to his preliminary discourse from 6th to the 12th page, and as it will greatly elucidate the subject, and tend to prove the position I have attempted to support, I will read section 17, 18, 19, and 20 of this discourse.” Having read these sections, he touches transiently, but powerfully, the objection to the want of national independence to pass the laws of forfeiture, till that independence was assented to by the king of Great Britain. “When the war commenced,” said he, “these things, called British debts, lost their quality of external obligation, and became matters of internal obligation, because the creditors had no right of constraint over the debtors. They were before the war, matters of perfect external obligation, accompanied by a right of constraint; but the war having taken away this right of constraint over the debtors, they were changed into an internal obligation, binding the conscience only. For it will not surely be denied, that the creditor lost the right of constraint over his debtor. From the authority of this respectable author, therefore—from the clearest principles of the laws of nature and nations, these debts became subject to forfeiture or remission. Those authors state, in language as emphatic and nervous as the human mind can conceive, or the human tongue can utter, that independent nations have the power of confiscating the property of their enemies: and so had this gallant nation. America, being a sovereign and complete nation, in all its forms and departments, possessed all the rights of the most powerful and ancient nations. Respecting the power of legislation, it was a nation complete, and without human control. Respecting public justice, it was a nation blessed by heaven, with the experience of past times; not like those nations, whose crude systems of jurisprudence originated in the ages of barbarity and ignorance of human rights. America was a sovereign nation, when her sons stepped forth, to resist the unjust hand of oppression, and declared themselves independent. The consent of Great Britain was not necessary, (as the gentlemen on the other side urge,) to create us a nation. Yes, sir, we were a nation, long before the monarch of that little island in the Atlantic ocean, gave his puny assent to it. (These words he accompanied by a most significant gesture—rising on tiptoe—pointing as to a vast distance, and half closing his eye-lids, as if endeavouring, with extreme difficulty, to draw a sight on some object almost too small for vision—and blowing out the words, puny assent, with his lips curled with unutterable contempt.) America was long before that time a great and gallant nation. In the estimation of other nations, we were so: the beneficent hand of Heaven enabled her to triumph, and secured to her the most sacred rights mortals can enjoy. When these illustrious authors, these friends to human nature, these kind instructors of human errors and frailties, * contemplate the obligations and corresponding rights of nations, and define the internal right, which is without constraint and not binding, do they not understand such rights as these, which the British creditors now claim? Here this man tells us what conscience says ought to be done, and what is compulsory. These British debts must come within the grasp of human power, like all other human things. They ceased to have that external quality, and fell into that mass of power, which belonged to our legislature by the law of nations.”

He comes now to a very serious obstacle, which it required both address and vigour to remove. Vattel, whom he had cited to support his position of the forfeitable character of debts, and who, so far as Mr. Henry had read him, does support him explicitly, annexes a qualification to the principle, which had been pressed with great power by the gentlemen who opened the cause. The curiosity of the reader will be gratified by seeing the manner in which he surmounted the objection. “But we are told, that, admitting this to be true

* In the second argument, he eulogized the writers on the laws of nations, “as benevolent spirits, who had held up the torch of science to a benighted world.”

Judge Winston says, that “he was, throughout life, negligent of his dress: but this, it is apprehended, applied rather to his habits in the country, than to his appearance in public. At the bar of the general court, he always appeared in a full suit of black cloth, or velvet, and a tie wig, which was dressed and powdered in the highest style of forensic fashion; in the winter season, too, according to the costume of the day, he wore over his other apparel, an ample cloak of scarlet cloth; and thus attired, made a figure bordering on grandeur. While he filled the executive chair, he is said to have been justly attentive to his dress and appearance, “not being disposed to afford the occasion of humiliating comparisons between the past and present government.”

He had long since too, laid aside the offensive rusticity of his juvenile manners. His manners, indeed, were still unostentatious, frank, and simple; but they had all that natural ease and unaffected gracefulness which distinguish the circles of the polite and well bred. On occasions, too, where state and ceremony were expected, there was no man who could act better his part. I have had a description of Mr. Henry, entering, in the full dress which I have mentioned, the hall of the delegates, at whose bar he was about to appear as an advocate, and saluting the house, all around, with a dignity and even majesty, that would have done honour to the most polished courtier in Europe. This, however, was only on extraordinary occasions, when such a deportment was expected, and was properly in its place. In general, his manners were those of the plain Virginian gentleman—kind—open—candid—and conciliating— warm without insincerity, and polite without pomp— neither chilling by his reserve, nor fatiguing by his loquacity—but adapting himself, without an effort, to the character of his company. “He would be pleased and cheerful,” says a correspondent, “with persons of any class of condition, vicious and abandoned persons only excepted; he preferred those of character and talents, but would be amused with any who could contribute to his amusement.” He had himself, a vein of pleasantry, which was extremely amusing, without detracting from his dignity. His companions, although perfectly at their ease with him, were never known to treat him with degrading familiarities. Their love and their respect for him equally forbade it. Nor had they any dread of an assault upon their feelings; for there was nothing cruel in his wit. The tomahawk and scalping knife were no part of his colloquial apparatus. He felt no pleasure in seeing the victim writhe under his stroke. The benignity of his spirit could not have borne such a sight, without torture. He found himself happiest, in communicating happiness to others. His conversation was instructive and delightful; stately where it should be so, but in the general, easy, familiar, sprightly, and entertaining; always, however, good humoured, and calculated to amuse without wounding.

As a specimen of this light and good natured pleasantry, the following anecdote has been furnished. Mr. Henry, together with Mr. Richard H. Lee, and several other conspicuous members of the assembly, were invited to pass the evening and night, at the house of Mr. Edmund Randolph, in the neighbourhood of Richmond. Mr. Lee, who was as brilliant and copious in conversation as in debate, had amused the company to a very late hour, by descanting on the genius of Cervantes, particularly as exhibited in his chef d'oeuvre, Don Quixote. The dissertation had been continued rather too long: the company began to yawn, when Mr. Henry, who had observed it, although Mr. Lee had not, rose slowly from his chair, and remarked, as he walked across the room, that Don Quixote was certainly a most excellent work, and most skillully adapted to the purpose of the author: “but,” said he, “Mr. Lee, (stopping before him, with a most significant archness of look,) you have overlooked, in your eulogy, one of the finest things in the book.” “What is that?” asked Mr. Lee. “It is,” said Mr. Henry, “that divine exclamation of Sancho, ‘blessed be the man that first invented sleep: it covers one all over, like a cloak.’ ” Mr. Lee took the hint; and the company broke up in good humour.

His quick and true discernment of characters, and his prescience of political events, were very much admired. The following examples of each, have been furnished by Mr. Pope:

Mr. Gallatin came to Virginia when a very young man: he was obscure and unknown, and spoke the English language so badly, that it was with difficulty he could be understood. He was engaged in some agency which made it necessary to present a petition to the assembly, and endeavoured to interest the leading members in its fate, by attempting to explain, out of doors, its merits and justice. But they could not understand him well enough to feel any interest either for him or his petition. In this hopeless condition he waited on Mr. Henry, and soon felt that he was in different hands. Mr. Henry, on his part, was so delighted with the interview, that he spoke of Mr. Gallatin every where in raptures—“he declared him without hesitation or doubt, to be the most sensible and best informed man he had ever conversed with—he is to be sure,” said he, “a most astonishing man!” The reader well knows how eminently Mr. Gallatin has since fulfilled this character; and considering the very disadvantageous circumstances under which he was seen by Mr. Henry, it is certainly a striking proof of the superior sagacity of the observer.

In relation to his political foresight, the following anecdote is in Mr. Pope's own words: “In the year 1798, after Buonaparte had annihilated five Austrian armies, and flushed with victory, was carrying away every thing before him, I heard Mr. Henry in a public company, observe (sharing his head after his impressive manner)—It won't all do! the present generation in France is so debased by a long despotism, they possess so few of the virtues that constitute the life and soul of republicanism, that they are incapable of forming a correct and just estimate of rational liberty. Their revolution will terminate differently from what you expect—their state of anarchy will be succeeded by despotism; and I should not be surprised, if the very man at whose victories you now rejoice, should Cæesar-like, subvert the liberties of his country. All who know me,” continued Mr. Henry, “know that I am a firm advocate for liberty and republicanism: I believe I have given some evidences of this. I wish it may not be so, but I am afraid the event will justify this prediction.”

The following is the fullest description which the author has been able to procure of Mr. Henry's person. He was nearly six feet high; spare, and what may be called raw-boned, with a slight stoop of the shoulders— his complexion was dark, sun burnt, and sallow, without any appearance of blood in his cheeks—his countenance grave, thoughtful, penetrating, and strongly marked with the lineaments of deep reflection—the earnestness of his manner, united with an habitual contraction or knitting of his brows, and those lines of thought with which his face was profusely furrowed, gave to his countenance at some times, the appearance of severity—yet such was the power which he had over its expression, that he could shake off from it in an instant, all the sternness of winter, and robe it in the brightest smiles of spring. His forehead was high and straight; yet forming a sufficient angle with the lower part of his face—his nose somewhat of the Roman stamp, though like that which we see in the bust of Cicero, it was rather long, than remarkable for its Cæsarean form—of the colour of his eyes, the accounts are almost as various as those which we have of the colour of the chamelion—they are said to have been blue, grey, what Lavater calls green, hazel, brown, and black—the fact seems to have been that they were of a bluish grey, not large; and being deeply fixed in his head, overhung by dark, long, and full eye-brows, and farther shaded by lashes that were both long and black, their apparent colour was as variable as the lights in which they were seen—but all concur in saying that they were, unquestionably the fullest features in his face—brilliant—full of spirit, and capable of the most rapidly shifting and powerful expression—at one time piercing and terrible as those of Mars, and then again soft and tender as those of pity herself—his cheeks were hollow—his chin long, but well formed, and rounded at the end, so as to form a proper counterpart to the upper part of his face. “I find it difficult,” says the correspondent from whom I have borrowed this portrait, “to describe his mouth; in which there was nothing remarkable, except when about to express a modest dissent from some opinion on which he was commenting—he then had a sort of half smile, in which the want of conviction was perhaps more strongly expressed, than the satirical emotion, which probably prompted it. His manner and address to the court and jury might be deemed the excess of humility, diffidence, and modesty: If, as rarely happened, he had occasion to answer any remark from the bench, it was impossible for meekness herself, to assume a manner less presumptuous —but in the smile of which I have been speaking, you might anticipate the want of conviction, expressed in his answer, at the moment that he submitted to the superior wisdom of the court, with a grace that would have done honour to Westminster hall. In his reply to counsel, his remarks on the evidence, and on the conduct of the parties, he preserved the same distinguished deference and politeness, still accompanied however by the never-failing index of this sceptical smile, where the occasion prompted.” In short, his features were manly, bold, and well proportioned, full of intelligence, and adopting themselves intuitively to every sentiment of his mind, and every feeling of his heart. His voice was not remarkable for its sweetness; but it was firm, of full volume, and rather melodious than otherwise. Its charms consisted in the mellowness and fulness of its note, the ease and variety of its inflections, the distinctness of its articulation, the fine effect of its emphasis, the felicity with which it attuned itself to every emotion, and the vast compass which enabled it to range through the whole empire of human passion from the deep and tragic half whisper of horror, to the wildest exclamation of overwhelming rage. In mild persuasion, it was as soft and gentle as the zephyr of spring; while in rousing his countrymen to arms, the winter storm that roars along the troubled Baltic, was not more awfully sublime. It was at all times perfectly under his command; or rather, indeed, it seemed to command itself, and to modulate its notes, most happily to the sentiment he was uttering. It never exceeded, or fell short of the occasion. There was none of that long continued and deafening vociferation, which always takes place when an ardent speaker has lost possession of himself—no monotonous clangour, no discordant shriek. Without being strained, it had that body and enunciation which filled the most distant ear, without distressing those which were nearest him: hence it never became cracked or hoarse, even in his longest speeches, but retained to the last, all its clearness and fulness of intonation, all the delicacy of its inflection, all the charms of its emphasis, and enchanting variety of its cadence.

His delivery was perfectly natural and well timed. It has indeed been said, that on his first rising, there was a species of sub-cantus very observable by a stranger and rather disagreeable to him; but that in a very few moments even this, itself, became agreeable, and seemed, indeed, indispensable to the full effect of his peculiar diction and conceptions. In point of time, he was very happy: there was no slow and heavy dragging, no quaint and measured drawling, with equidistant pace, no stumbling and floundering, among the fractured members of deranged and broken periods, no undignified hurry and trepidation, no recalling and recasting of sentences as he went along, no redaction of one word and substitution of another not better, and none of those affected bursts of almost inarticulate impetuosity, which betray the rhetorician rather than display the orator. On the contrary, ever self-collected, deliberate, and dignified, he seemed to have looked through the whole period before he commenced its delivery; and hence his delivery was smooth, and firm, and well accented; slow enough to take along with him the dullest hearer, and yet so commanding, that the quick had neither the power nor the disposition to get the start of him. Thus he gave to every thought its full and appropriate force; and to every image all its radiance and beauty.

No speaker ever understood better than Mr. Henry, the true use and power of the pause; and no one ever practised it with happier collect. His pauses were never resorted to, for the purpose of investing an insignificant thought with false importance; much less were they ever resorted to as a finesse, to gain time for thinking. The hearer was never disposed to ask, “why that pause?” nor to measure its duration by a reference to his watch. On the contrary, it always came, at the very moment, which he would himself have wished it, in order to weigh the striking and important thought which had just been uttered; and the interval was always filled by the speaker with a matchless energy of look, which drove the thought home through the mind and through the heart.

His gesture, and this varying play of his features and voice, were so excellent, so exquisite, that many have referred his power as an orator principally to that cause; yet this was all his own, and his gesture, particularly, of so peculiar a cast, that it is said it could have become no other man. I do not learn that it was very abundant; for there was no trash about it, none of those false motions to which undisciplined speakers are so generally addicted; no chopping nor sawing of the air; no thumping of the bar to express an earnestness, which was much more powerfully, as well as more elegantly, expressed by his eye and his countenance. Whenever he moved his arm, or his hand, or even his finger, or changed the position of his body, it was always to some purpose; nothing was inefficient; every thing told; every gesture, every attitude, every look, was emphatic; all was animation, energy, and dignity. Its great advantage consisted in this—that various, bold, and original as it was, it never appeared to be studied, affected, or theatrical, or “to overstep,” in the smallest degree, “the modesty of nature:” for he never made a gesture, or assumed an attitude, which did not seem imperiously demanded by the occasion. Every look, every motion, every pause, every start, was completely filled and dilated by the thought which he was uttering, and seemed indeed to form a part of the thought itself. His action, however strong, was never vehement. He was never seen rushing foward, shoulder foremost, fury in his countenance, and frenzy in his voice, as if to overturn the bar, and charge his audience sword in hand. His judgment was too manly and too solid, and his taste too true, to permit him to indulge in any such extravagance. His good sense and his self-possession never deserted him. In the loudest storm of declamation, in the fiercest blaze of passion, there was a dignity and temperance which gave it seeming. He had the rare faculty of imparting to his hearers all the excess of his own feelings, and all the violence and tumult of his emotions, all the dauntless spirit of his resolutions, and all the energy of his soul, without any sacrifice of his own personal dignity, and without treating his hearers otherwise than as rational beings. He was not the orator of a day; and therefore sought not to build his fame on the sandy basis of a false taste, fostered, if not created, by himself. He spoke for immortality; and therefore raised the pillars of his glory on the only solid foundation—the rock of nature.

So much has been already said, incidentally, of his attainments, and the character of his mind, both as a statesman and an orator, that little remains to be added in a general way. As a statesman, the quality which strikes us most is his political intrepidity: and yet it has sometimes been objected to him, that he waited on every occasion, to see which way the popular current was setting, when he would artfully throw himself into it, and seem to guide its course. Nothing can be more incorrect: it would be easy to multiply proofs to refute the charge;—but I shall content myself with a few which are of general notoriety.

1. The American revolution is universally admitted to have begun in the upper circles of society. It turned on principles too remote and abstruse for vulgar apprehension or consideration. Had it depended on the unenlightened mass of the community, no doubt can be entertained at this day, that the tax imposed by parliament would have been paid without a question. Since, then, the upper circle of society did not take its impulse from the people, the only remaining inquiry is, who gave the revolutionary impulse to that circle itself? It was unquestionably, Patrick Henry. This is affirmed by Mr. Jefferson; it is demonstrated by the resistance given to Mr. Henry's measures, by those who were afterwards the staunchest friends of the revolution; it is farther proved, by the sentiment before noticed, with which doctor Franklin (who was then considered as the first American statesman) dismissed Mr. Ingersoll, on his departure from London; a sentiment, which evinces beyond doubt, that doctor Franklin considered resistance to the British power to be, at that time, premature; and finally, this honour is assigned to Mr. Henry, I perceive, by a late interesting historian of Massachusetts, the only state which has ever pretended to dispute the palm with Virginia. * On this great occasion then, it is manifest, that he did not wait for the popular current; but on the contrary that it was he alone, who by his single power, moved the mighty mass of stagnant waters, and changed the silent lake into a

* The historian to whom I allude, is Mrs. Mercy Warren, who is said to be the widow of the celebrated general Warren, the hero of Bunker's hill. These are her words:—“The house of burgesses of Virginia, was the first who formerly resolved against the encroachments of power, and the unwarrantable designs of the British parliament. The novelty of their procedure and the boldness of spirit that marked the resolutions of that assembly, at once astonished and disconcerted the officers of the crown, and the supporters of the measures of administration. These resolutions were ushered into the house, on the thirtieth of May, one thousand seven hundred and sixty five, by Patrick Henry, esq. a young gentleman of the law, till then unknown in political life. He was a man possessed of strong powers, much professional knowledge, and of such abilities as qualified him for the exigencies of the day. Fearless of the cry of treason, echoed against him from several quarters, he justified the measure, and supported the resolves, in a speech that did honour both to his understanding and his patriotism, &c.”—Mrs. Warren's Hist. of the American Revolution, vol. i. p. 28.