“Mirabeau in his premeditated discourses was admirable. But what was he not in his extemporaneous effusions? His natural vehemence, of which he repressed the flights in his prepared speeches, broke down all barriers in his improvisations. A sort of nervous irritability gave then to his whole frame an almost preternatural animation and life. His breast dilated with an impetuous breathing. His lion face became wrinkled and contorted. His eyes shot forth flame. He roared, he stamped, he shook the fierce mass of his hair, all whitened with foam; he trod the tribune with the supreme authority of a master, and the imperial air of a king. What an interesting spectacle to behold him, momently, erect and exalt himself under the pressure of obstacle! To see him display the pride of his commanding brow! To see him, like the ancient orator, when, with all the power of his unchained eloquence, he was wont to sway, to and fro in the Forum, the agitated waves of the Roman multitude. Then would he throw by the measured notes of his declamation, habitually grave and solemn. Then would escape him broken exclamations, tones of thunder, and accents of heartrending and terrible pathos. He concealed with the flash and color of his rhetoric, the sinewy arguments of his dialectics. He transported the Assembly, because himself transported. And yet—so extraordinary was his force—he abandoned himself to the torrent of his eloquence, without wandering from his course; he mastered others by its sovereign sway, without losing for an instant his own self-control.”
PATRICK HENRY.
The fame of this great man cannot soon be surpassed. He not only produced a great impression at the time he spoke, but had an agency, by his eloquent words, in bringing about the most important changes. He was more than the mouthpiece of the American Revolution. He not merely interpreted the feelings of the mass of the nation to itself, but in a large degree originated the enthusiasm that led them through war to independence. It is certain that the aristocratic and powerful colony of Virginia would have occupied a far different place in the struggle for liberty, if it had been deprived of his almost irresistible influence. It is hard to speculate on what might have been the result if temporizing measures had carried the day, and the union of the colonies been interfered with by want of cordial sympathy. The political wisdom of Franklin, and the military skill and constancy of Washington, did not contribute more to final success than the bold councils and fervent utterances of the country lawyer who is the subject of our sketch.
Patrick Henry was born in Hanover county, Virginia, in May, 1736. In childhood he acquired the common elements of education, and some knowledge of Latin and mathematics, and was not the ignorant youth that some of his admirers delight in representing him. But he was exceedingly fond of hunting and fishing, and would often spend the hours in this way, that might have been devoted to more useful employment. But he became a great day dreamer, thus at once revealing and exercising the unbounded imagination he possessed. He loved to wander alone, that he might give full play to the visions and reveries that floated through his brain.
When about fourteen, he heard the celebrated Presbyterian minister, Samuel Davies. His eloquence was the most powerful that Henry had hitherto enjoyed, and awakened in him a spirit of emulation. All his life Henry delighted to do him honor, and attributed the bent of his own mind to oratory and a large measure of his success to this man.
In business, the future statesman was uniformly most unsuccessful. He twice failed as a storekeeper, and once as a farmer. But all this time he was really studying for his future profession. He was fond of talk, and by indulging in it freely doubtless improved his power of language. He would relate long stories, and do it so well that those who thronged his counter took as little note of time as he did, and yielded their hearts as fully to him as larger audiences did afterward.
As a last resort he studied law, but for a time his success was no better in this than in his previous occupations. But after two or three years, during which he lived without practice, and in a dependent condition, he was retained in what seemed merely a nominal capacity—as defendant in the noted “Parsons case.” The preachers of the established church were paid so many pounds of tobacco per annum. But when the price arose, in a time of scarcity, the Legislature passed an act allowing all persons to pay their assessment in money at the rate of 2d per pound, which was much less than it was worth at that time. After an interval this law was declared void by the king and his council. Then the clergy instituted suit to recover what they had lost during the time the act was enforced. There was no doubt of the legality of their claim, although more of its intrinsic rightfulness, and the law question was decided in a test case, almost without controversy. This really surrendered the whole matter, and the only issue then was as to the amount of damage they had sustained—a very plain question, apparently affording no room for argument by the defense.
A vast array of the clergy were present, and on the bench was Henry’s own father. No circumstances could be imagined more unfavorable for the maiden speech of a young lawyer. The case for the plaintiff was clearly and forcibly stated by a leading member of the bar, and Henry began his reply. It is no wonder that he faltered, and that his sentences were awkward and confused. The people, who were present in great numbers, and who were intensely hostile to the preachers, hung their heads, and gave up the contest. The father of the speaker was shame-faced and dismayed. The preachers smiled in derision, and exchanged congratulatory glances. But it was too soon. The power of eloquence began to assert itself. The strong mind of Henry mastered all embarrassment, and was brought to bear, with irresistible force, upon his subject, and upon those around. All eyes were drawn to the almost unknown speaker. His rusticity of manner had disappeared; his form became erect, and his piercing eyes shot forth lightning. “A mysterious and almost supernatural transformation of appearance” passed over him. Every pulse beat responsive to his, and throbbed with his own mighty indignation. He turned his withering invective upon the clergy, speaking of their greediness, oppression, and meanness, until they fled from the court. Spectators say that their blood ran cold and their hair stood on end! When he concluded, the jury in an instant brought judgment for one penny damages! a new trial was refused, and the young but unparalleled orator was borne away in triumph by the shouting multitude.
His first appearance in the house of Burgesses was not less brilliant, and far more important in its results. The majority of the Assembly seemed to be bent on new petitions and remonstrances against the oppression of England, when Henry introduced his celebrated resolutions, declaring in plain phrases that the acts complained of were unconstitutional and void. This, which was little short of a declaration of war, was received, even by well-meaning patriots, with a storm of opposition. A most bitter debate followed. Henry at first stood almost alone, with the wealth and talent of the Assembly arrayed against him. But his clear conviction, determined will, and powerful eloquence turned the scale, and the resolutions passed, committing Virginia to the cause of resistance.
When Henry attended the first Congress he found an array of men, whose fame was already becoming world-wide. But he soon won his way to the very highest rank among them, and maintained it to the close. His extraordinary eloquence excited the same astonishment on this broader field, as in the seclusion of the Virginia hills. It was “Shakespeare and Garrick combined.” When he took his seat after his opening speech, the first speech that had broken the silence of the great assembly, there was no longer a doubt that he was the greatest orator in America, and probably in the world. This pre-eminence he maintained all through the exciting struggle. His voice was ever like an inspiration, and the people looked up to him almost as a prophet.