Chapter XX: Preface (18)

On the night of the 25th of December, Washington recrossed the Delaware amidst the floating ice, surprised and took one thousand of the enemy prisoners at Trenton, pushed on to Princeton, killed sixty more, took three hundred prisoners, and spread consternation in the ranks of the British army. These successes removed much of the gloom and despondency that hung over the cause. Washington retired to Morristown for the winter; the English occupied Brunswick. In the spring of 1777, the army of Washington amounted to about seven thousand men. No action occurred between the main armies until in August, when the British landed in Maryland with the intention of capturing Philadelphia.

On the 11th of September the two armies met at Brandywine; a desperate battle ensued, and partial victory attended the English army. On the approach of the enemy Philadelphia was abandoned and Congress retired to Lancaster. Another severe battle was fought at Germantown on the 4th of October, which proved disastrous to Washington, owing to a thick fog, by which his troops became separated and thrown into confusion. These keen misfortunes were much alleviated by the capture of the whole British army in the north under Burgoyne, by General Gates, on the 17th of October. The surrender of Burgoyne had a happy effect at home and abroad. France, on the reception of this news, recognised the independence of the United States, entered into a treaty of alliance, and furnished important aid in advancing the glorious cause, and sent many of her bravest sons to the rescue.

The treaty of alliance between the United States and France, and the loss of their northern army, induced the English to evacuate Philadelphia in the spring of 1778, and retreat to New York. From there they made frequent descents upon various places, burning and destroying property, murdering the inhabitants, and spreading desolation wherever they went.

An expedition was sent to Georgia which proved successful, and the south now became the principal theatre of action. Many feats of bravery were performed, but no decisive battle occurred between the main armies. The same mode of warfare characterized the campaign of 1779, the British seeming to aim more at predatory excursions than pitched battles, which they performed with a savage barbarity, disgraceful to themselves and heart-rending to humanity.

The exertions of Washington were almost paralyzed for the want of men and money; the French Admiral, D’Estaing, was unfortunate in all his movements, and the British lion was prowling through the land in all the majesty of cruelty. The anchor of hope could scarcely keep the shattered bark of liberty to its moorings; the cable of exertion lost thread after thread, until a small band of sages and heroes, who formed the nucleus, were left to contend with the fury of the storm that rolled its fiery and foaming surges over them.

The campaign of 1780 opened favourably to the royal arms, but more exertion was used on the part of the Americans. General Sumpter gave the British much trouble in the south, and a considerable force from the north was on its march to avenge the blood of slaughtered victims. The cruelties of the enemy had re-illumined the cause of freedom, and the people once more rallied around her sacred banner, determined on death or victory.

The southern army was now put under the command of General Gates, the hero of Saratoga—fresh aid arrived from France and the conflict was renewed with fury and desperation. On the 18th of August the two armies met near Camden, S. C.,—a decided advantage was gained by Lord Cornwallis. But defeat and misfortune no longer disheartened the friends of liberty. In the midst of adversity they rose like a phœnix from ashes, and hurled, with the fury of Mars, the thunderbolts of vengeance amongst their enemies.

The battle of the Cowpens, on the 17th of January, 1781, shed new lustre on the American arms. General Morgan there met the high-toned Colonel Tarleton, killed rising of one hundred men, wounded two hundred, took five hundred prisoners, two pieces of cannon, twelve standards, eight hundred muskets, thirty-five baggage wagons, one hundred dragoon horses, with a loss of only twelve killed and sixty wounded. His force amounted to only five hundred militia and a few regulars—that of Tarleton to over one thousand regulars, the flower of the British army.

Morgan now effected a junction with General Green, who had succeeded General Gates, and on the 8th of March they met the forces of Lord Cornwallis at Guilford court-house, where an obstinate battle was fought and the Americans compelled to leave the field. On the 9th of April General Green again put his troops in motion—on the 25th the two armies once more measured arms,—Green was compelled to retreat—not before a pursuing foe, but towards the British garrison Ninety-Six, which he reached and besieged on the 22nd of May, and gave it a hearty salute; but on the approach of Lord Rawdon with a large force, he modestly retired to the Santee hills to spend the hot and sickly season. In the meantime the English army encamped at Eutaw Springs, where Green renewed the attack on the 8th of September, and after a hard fought action, in which neither gained a decided victory, the enemy retired to Charleston, with a loss in killed, wounded and prisoners, of eleven hundred men. The Americans lost five hundred and fifty-five.

Although General Green had not gained any decided victory, he had gained many advantages and greatly weakened the enemy. Generals Lee and Wayne had been more successful, and the British were annoyed and harassed in every quarter—volunteers flocked around their beloved Washington, and the tide of war turned in his favour.

The patriotic Lafayette was now in the field. Morgan, Wayne, Greene and Lee were at their posts. Count de Grasse was co-operating with his fleet; and, in their turn, the English lords, admirals and generals, found themselves surrounded with impending danger. An awful crisis awaited them—retribution stared them in the face—their deeds of blood haunted their guilty souls, and consternation seized their troubled minds. Lord Cornwallis hastened to concentrate his forces at Yorktown, which he fortified in the best possible manner.

On the 6th of October the combined forces of Washington and Rochambeau commenced a siege upon this place, which surrendered on the 19th of the same month. The grand Rubicon was now passed, the colonies were free—the work was finished. This was the dying struggle of British monarchy in America. The last expiring hope of conquering the colonies now fled for ever. Heaven had decreed they should be free—that decree was now consummated. The eagle of liberty, like Jordan’s dove, descended—pronounced a benediction upon the conquering heroes—snatched the laurels from Britain’s brow and placed them triumphantly upon the CHAMPIONS OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. To the friends of FREEDOM the scene was grand and joyful—to the enemies of LIBERTY, it was painful and humiliating.

The result of this victory was hailed with joy, and placed Washington on the lofty summit of immortal fame—gave freedom to his bleeding country—sealed the foundations of our republic, now towering to the skies—prepared an asylum for the oppressed, and planted deep in Columbia’s soil the long nursed tree of LIBERTY.

On the 30th of September, 1783, a definitive treaty was signed at Paris by Mr. Fitzherbert and Mr. Oswald, on the part of Great Britain, and by John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay and Henry Laurens, on the part of the United States.

On the second of November, Washington issued his farewell orders to his army, in terms of affectionate eloquence and parental solicitude. On the 3d, the troops were disbanded by Congress, and, with mingling tears of joy and gratitude, they once more repaired to their homes to meet the warm embrace of friends, and reap the fruit of their toils and fatigues—no longer embittered by the iron scourge of despotism. On the 23d of December, Washington appeared in the hall of Congress and resigned his commission. This last act was one of grandeur and thrilling interest. The past, the present and the future, were all in the mind of this great and good man, as he invoked the blessings of Heaven to descend and guide the destinies of his beloved, his emancipated country. Every heart beat quicker and higher—his commission was laid upon the table—a burst of applause rent the air, a flood of tears closed the scene.

The people of the United States, no longer under the paternal care of their old mother, were now left to try the experiment of self-government. Difficulties arose from local jealousies and interests—a debt of forty millions of dollars had been contracted—government paper became greatly depreciated—the public credit could not be sustained, and the liberty that the patriots had fought and bled to obtain, seemed doomed to a premature dissolution and to be lost in the whirlpool of anarchy and confusion. In view of these accumulating difficulties, commissioners from every state, except Rhode Island, convened at Philadelphia, for the purpose of devising means to preserve and perfect that freedom which had cost millions of treasure and fountains of noble blood. Washington was unanimously elected president of this august body. After long deliberation, the labours of the delegates resulted in the production of the federal constitution, one of the brightest specimens of legislation on record. It is the polar star of freedom, the great palladium of our liberty, the golden chain that connects our union, the grand rallying point of republicans, a shield against innovation and corruption, a terror to tyrants, a shining light to patriots, and stamps with immortal and lasting fame the names of its illustrious authors.

This was reported to Congress on the 17th of September, received their warm approbation, and was immediately sent to the several states for their consideration, all of which gave it their sanction, except North Carolina and Rhode Island—the former of which acceded to it in 1789, the latter in 1790. A degree of confidence was then restored, and from that time down to the present our nation has rolled on in the full tide of successful experiment, and enjoyed an increasing and towering prosperity without a parallel in the annals of history. The star-spangled banner waves on every sea, and is respected by every nation in the civilized world: our improvements at home have marched in advance of the boldest views of the most visionary projector, the fondest anticipations of their most ardent friends.

By the unanimous voice of a free and grateful people, Washington was elected the first president of the new republic, and, with the same modest diffidence that had marked his whole career, he took the oath of office on the 30th of April, 1789, in the city of New York, in the presence of the first Congress under the new constitution, and in the presence of a crowded assembly, who deeply felt and strongly expressed their love and gratitude to him. He then entered upon the important duties that devolved upon him.

A revenue was to be raised, the judiciary system to be organized, its officers to be appointed, a cabinet to be formed and every department of government to be established on a basis at once firm, impartial, just and humane. In performing these various and arduous duties he exhibited great wisdom, a sound discretion, a clear head and good heart. In the cabinet, as in the field, prudence and deliberation guided his every action. He was found equal to every emergency and duty that his country demanded at his hands—he acted up to, but never exceeded the bounds of delegated authority—an angel could do no more—Washington did no less. During his administration of eight years he put forth the noblest energies of his lucid mind to advance the prosperity of his country—meliorate the condition of those who were suffering from the effects of a protracted war—improve the state of society, arts, science, agriculture and commerce—disseminate general intelligence—allay local difficulties—and render the infant republic as happy and glorious as it was free and independent.

His exertions were crowned with success; his fondest anticipations were realized; he finished the work his country had called him to perform; the government stood on a basis firm as the rock of ages, and, on the 4th of March, 1797, he resigned his power to the sovereign people, retired from public life, honoured and loved by his fellow-citizens, respected and admired by a gazing world, and crowned with an unsullied fame that will endure unimpaired the revolutions of time.

He then retired to Mount Vernon to enjoy once more the felicity of domestic retirement and the sweets of his own fireside. He had served his country long and ably; he could look back upon a life well and nobly spent in the cause of human rights, liberal principles and universal philanthropy.

For his arduous services during the revolution Washington took no compensation, and virtually paid about three-fourths of his own expenses. He only charged his actual disbursements, for each item of which he produced a written voucher. He made a book entry of every business transaction with as much system as if he had enjoyed the quiet of a counting-room. A fac simile of his journal is now before me, which has been politely furnished by Timothy Caldwell, Esq. of the city of Philadelphia, one of the few survivors of “the times that tried men’s souls.”

The first entry is dated the 22nd of June, 1775, and marked No. 1. £239. It commences with the outfit of the commander-in-chief and his staff at Philadelphia, and the expenses of the journey to Cambridge, immediately after his appointment by Congress, amounting to £466 2_s._ 10_d._ lawful money. But £3 of this amount was drawn from government at that time. The balance was furnished from his own pocket and credit, having received from Thomas Mifflin, Esq., £129 8_s._ 2_d._ The account current which is before me runs through a period of eight years, at the end of which time a balance was due to him of £1972 9_s._ 4_d._ His expenses for the eight years amounted to £16311 17_s._ 1_d._ He received $104,364 paper money, after March 1780, and passed it to the credit of the United States at forty for one, agreeably to the scale of depreciation, for which he did not obtain one for a hundred, by reason of which a large proportion of his expenses were actually paid with his own private money, for which he refused any remuneration. His expenses during his presidential terms exceeded his salary over five thousand dollars a year, which he paid from his private funds.

Had I time and power to trace the fair lines of Washington’s private worth and routine of life, I would present the picture of a man graced with native dignity, reducing all things around him to as perfect a system of order, economy, harmony and peace, as was ever devised by man. It should be chastened with sterling merit and magnanimity, and mellowed with benevolence and charity. It should be enlivened by the richest colours of virtue and consistency, and finished with the finest touches of a master’s hand. I would crown it with an amaranthine bouquet, richer and sweeter than the epic or civic wreath that decked his brow in the public view of an admiring world. He was a pattern of all that was great and good—the widow’s solace, the orphan’s father, the bountiful benefactor, the faithful friend, the kind husband, the true patriot, the humble christian, the worthy citizen and the honest man.

With the exception of his appointment to preside over the American army in 1798, when France threatened an invasion, Washington was relieved from any further participation in public affairs. He continued to live at Vernon’s sacred mount until the 14th of December, 1799, when his immortal spirit left its tenement of clay, soared aloft on angel’s wings to realms of ceaseless bliss, there to receive a crown of unfading glory, as the reward of a spotless life spent in the service of his country and his God.

His body was deposited in the family tomb, where its ashes slumber in peace, amidst the groves of his loved retreat.[I] This hallowed spot is visited yearly by large numbers, who approach it with veneration, gratitude and awe. Foreigners are proud to say they have visited the tomb of Washington—all nations revere his memory, unborn millions will perpetuate his praise.

[I] Since writing this sketch I have been informed, that when
the remains of Washington were placed in the sarcophagus
prepared for their reception, in the autumn of 1837, his
face retained its fleshy appearance and was but slightly
changed—a fact as remarkable as the history of his life.

_His_ history, like that of our nation, is without a parallel. Unblemished virtue marked his whole career, philanthropy his whole course, justice and integrity his every action. A calm resignation, to the will of God, under the most trying circumstances and under every dispensation, added a brilliant lustre to all his amiable qualities. His course was not tarnished with bold strides of misguided ambition, or base attempts at self-aggrandizement. He was consistent to the last. His character, like a blazing luminary, outdazzles the surrounding stars, and illuminates, with meridian splendour, the horizon of biography. His brilliant achievements were not stained with that unnecessary effusion of human blood which characterized the ambitious Cæsar, the conquering Alexander and the disappointed Bonaparte. His fame is beyond the reach of slander or the attacks of malice. He has left an example of human conduct worthy the contemplation and imitation of all who move in the private walks of life or figure on the stage of public action. His sacred memory will live through the rolling ages of time, until the wreck of worlds and the dissolution of nature shall close the drama of human action, Gabriel’s dread clarion rend the vaulted tomb, awake the sleeping dead, and proclaim to astonished millions—TIME SHALL BE NO LONGER.

PATRICK HENRY.

This distinguished name stands conspicuous upon the pages of the history of our country, and shines with peculiar brilliancy amidst the constellations of the revolution. Time and the critic’s pen have not detracted from the lustre of its fame—the patriot delights to dwell upon the bright and bold career of PATRICK HENRY.

He was a native of Studley, Hanover county, Virginia, born on the 29th of May, 1736. His father was a highly respectable man, of Scotch descent; his mother was the sister of Judge Winston, who was justly celebrated as an eloquent and forcible orator.

During his childhood and youth Patrick Henry was remarkable for indolence and a love of recreation—consequently, he arrived at manhood with a limited education and unaccustomed to industry. His native talents were not developed, his mind was not cultivated, nor his genius expanded, until after he was a husband and a father. His friends endeavoured in vain to direct his course to a close application to business by setting him up in the mercantile line. In this he soon failed, preferring his fishing rod and gun to the business of his store. After finding himself a bankrupt, he concluded that the toils of life and the troubles of his pilgrimage were too much to bear alone, and accordingly married a wife, the daughter of a respectable planter, and became a tiller of the ground. Unacquainted with this new vocation, he soon found himself in the quagmire of adversity, and again tacked about and entered into the mercantile business. Still he was unfortunate, and poverty claimed him as one of her favourite children. An increasing family needed increased means of support, creditors became clamorous, duns showered in upon him, and in a short time Patrick Henry was reduced to misery and want. At last he was driven to his books, and resolved on the study of law. He now felt most keenly the misspent time of his childhood and youth, and saw many of his age who had already ascended high on the ladder of fame, whose native powers of mind he knew to be inferior to his. He accordingly commenced the study he had chosen, and in six weeks after, at the age of twenty-four, he was admitted to the bar, more as a compliment to his respectable connexions and his destitute situation, than from the knowledge he had obtained of this lucid but laborious science during the brief period he had been engaged in its investigation.—The ensuing three years, folded in the coil of extreme want, he made but slow advances in his profession, and obtained the necessaries of life by assisting his father-in-law at a _tavern_ bar, instead of shining at the bar of the court. He was still ardently attached to his gun, and often carried his knapsack of provisions and remained several days and nights in the woods. On his return, he would enter the court in his coarse and blood-stained hunting dress, when he would take up his causes, carry them through with astonishing adroitness and skill, and finally succeeded in gaining a popular reputation as an advocate.

In 1764, he was employed as counsel in a case of contested election to be tried at the seat of the government of his native state, which introduced him among the fashionable and gay, whose exterior appearance and manners formed a great contrast with his. He made no preparation for meeting his learned and polished adversaries, and as he moved awkwardly around among them, was looked upon by some who were gazing at his coarse habiliments and his eccentric actions, as _non compos mentis_. When the case came up for trial, the astonished audience and the court were completely electrified by his bursts of native eloquence and the cogency of his logic. Judges Tyler and Winston who tried the case, declared they had never before witnessed so happy and triumphant an effort, in point of sublime rhetoric and conclusive argument, by any man. From that time forward the fame of Patrick Henry spread its expansive wings, and he was enabled to banish want and misery from his door by a lucrative and increasing practice. From his childhood he had been a close observer of human nature; the only remarkable trait in favour of his juvenile character. He had always cultivated and improved this advantageous propensity, which was of great use to him in after life. So well versed had he become with the nature, propensities, and operations of the human mind, that he seemed to comprehend and divine, at a single glance, all its intricacies, impulses and variations. This gave him a great advantage over many of his professional brethren, who had studied Latin and Greek _more_, but human nature _less_, than this self-made man. He took a deep and comprehensive view of the causes that impel men to action, and of the results produced by the multifarious influences that control and direct them. He investigated the designs of creation, the duty of man to his fellow and his God, the laws of nature, reason and revelation, and became a bold advocate for liberty of conscience, equal rights and universal freedom. Nor did he bury these principles of philanthropy in his own bosom. In the expansive view he had taken of the rights of man, of the different modes of government, of the oppression of kings, of the policy pursued by the mother country towards the American colonies, he came to the conclusion, that any nation to be great and happy, must be free and independent.

He had viewed, with a statesman’s eye, the growing oppressions of the crown; they had reached his very soul, and roused that soul to action. In Virginia, Patrick Henry first charged the revolutionary ball with patriotic fire, and gave it an impetus that increased and gathered new force as it rolled along. Had not the mighty theme of freedom engaged the mind of this bold and elevated patriot, he might have closed his career with its gigantic powers half unspent, and left his noblest qualities of soul to expire in embryo. Nature had so moulded him, that the ordinary concerns of life never roused him to vigorous action. It required occasions of deep and thrilling interest to awaken and put in motion his stronger energies. The exciting cause of the revolution was exactly calculated to bring him out in all the majesty of his native greatness.

In 1765, he was chosen a member of the Virginia Assembly, and at once took a bold and decisive stand against British oppression. He introduced resolutions against the stamp act that were so bold and independent as to alarm the older members, who, although they approved and applauded the principles and liberal views of this young champion of liberty, wanted his moral courage to design and execute. To impart this to them, and stamp the impress of his own upon their trembling hearts, was now the great business of Patrick Henry. In this he succeeded, and his resolutions were passed. Each resolution was drawn from the translucent fountain of eternal justice, equity and law, and was based upon the principles of Magna Charta, which had been the polar star of England for centuries. The following is a correct copy:

“Resolved, That the first adventurers and settlers of this his majesty’s colony and dominion, brought with them, and transmitted to their posterity, and all other his majesty’s subjects, since inhabiting in this, his majesty’s said colony, all the privileges, franchises and immunities, that have, at any time, been held, enjoyed and possessed by the people of Great Britain.

“Resolved, That by two royal charters granted by King James I., the colonists aforesaid are declared entitled to all the privileges, liberties and immunities of denizens and natural born subjects, to all intents and purposes, as if they had been abiding and born within the realm of England.

“Resolved, That the taxation of the people by themselves, or by persons chosen by themselves to represent them, who can only know what taxes the people are able to bear, and the easiest mode of raising them, and are equally affected by such taxes themselves, is the distinguishing characteristic of British freedom, and without which the ancient constitution cannot subsist.

“Resolved, That his majesty’s liege people of this most ancient colony, have uninterruptedly enjoyed the right of being thus governed by their own Assembly, in the article of their taxes and internal police, and that the same hath never been forfeited, or in any other way given up, but hath been constantly recognised by the King and people of Great Britain.

“Resolved therefore, that the general assembly of this colony has the sole right and power to lay taxes and impositions upon the inhabitants of this colony: and that every attempt to vest such power in any person or persons whosoever, other than the general assembly aforesaid, has a manifest tendency to destroy British as well as American freedom!”

The justice of these resolutions, based as they were upon the well known principles of the English constitution, confined within the limits of the ancient landmarks of that sacred instrument, could not be denied by the cringing sycophants of a corrupt and corrupting ministry, and were hailed by every patriot as the firm pillars of the temple of American liberty. They were enforced by the overwhelming eloquence and logic of the mover, and seconded by Mr. Johnston, who sustained them by arguments and conclusions that imparted new strength and courage to many a bosom that was, a few moments before, poising on the agonizing pivot of hesitation. They were strongly opposed by several members, who subsequently espoused the cause of equal rights, and affixed their names to the great charter of our independence. This opposition brought forth, for the first time, the gigantic powers of Patrick Henry. In all the sublimity of his towering genius, he stood among the great, the acknowledged champion of that legislative hall which he had but recently entered. Astonishment and admiration held his electrified audience in deep suspense as he painted, in bold and glowing colours, the increasing infringements of the hirelings of the crown upon the chartered rights and privileges of the colonists, who had waded through torrents of blood and seas of trouble and toil, to plant themselves in the new world. He pointed to the chains forged by the hands of tyranny, already clanking, with terrific sound, upon every ear. To be free or slaves, was the great, the momentous question. He, for one, was prepared and determined to unfurl the banner of freedom, drive from his native soil the task masters of oppression, or perish in the glorious attempt. His opponents were completely astounded, and found it impossible to stem the strong current of popular feeling put in motion by the proceedings of that eventful crisis. Seconded and supported by the cool and deep calculating Johnston, the resolutions passed amidst the cry of “_treason_,” from the tories, and “_liberty or death_,” from the patriots.

The seeds of freedom were deeply planted on that glorious day, and old Virginia proved a congenial soil for the promotion of their future growth. From that time forward, Patrick Henry was hailed as the great advocate of human rights and rational liberty. He stood on the loftiest pinnacle fame could rear, unmoved and unscathed by the fire of persecution, calmly surveying the raging elements of the revolutionary storm, already in commotion around him.

In August, 1774, the Virginia convention met at Williamsburg, and passed a series of resolutions, pledging themselves to sustain their eastern brethren in the common cause of their common country. As delegates to the first colonial Congress they appointed Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, George Washington, Richard Bland, Patrick Henry, Benjamin Harrison and Edmund Pendleton.

On the 4th of September following, this august assembly of patriotic sages and heroes met in Carpenters’ Hall, at the city of Philadelphia. The object for which they had convened was one of imposing and thrilling interest, big with events, absorbing in character and full of importance. The eyes of gazing millions were turned upon them, the kindling wrath of the crown was flashing before them, the anathemas of tyranny were pronounced against them. But they still resolved to go on. Liberty or death had become the watchword—the hallowed fire of freedom had warmed their bosoms and impelled them to action. After an address to the throne of grace, they commenced their proceedings by appointing Peyton Randolph, of Virginia, president of their body. A deep and solemn silence ensued, as if each member was appealing to Heaven for aid and direction. At length Patrick Henry rose, as echo lingered to catch a sound. With the eloquence of a Demosthenes, the philosophy of a Socrates, the justice of an Aristides, and the wisdom of a Solon, he took a broad, impartial and expansive view of the past, the present and the future; exhibited, in their true light, the relations between the mother country and her distant colonies; unveiled the designs of the base and unprincipled ministry that claimed the high and unwarranted prerogative of wielding an iron sceptre over America, and of reducing her sons to unconditional submission, and painted, in the most vivid and lively colours, a nation’s rights and a nation’s wrongs. The dignity and calmness of his manner, the clearness of his logic, the force of his eloquence and the solemnity of his voice and countenance combined to inspire an admiration and awe until then unknown to the astonished audience. On that occasion his powers of thought seemed supernatural; he seemed commissioned by Heaven to rouse his countrymen to a sense of approaching danger. He sat down amidst repeated bursts of applause, the acknowledged Demosthenes of the new world, the most powerful orator of his day and generation.

The succeeding year he was a member of the convention of Virginia that convened at Richmond, where he proposed immediate measures of defence, sufficient to repel any invasion from the mother country. In this he was strenuously opposed by several of the most influential members, who still felt a disposition to cringe to royal power.

That power, based as it was upon wrongs and injury, Patrick Henry held in utter contempt. His dauntless soul soared above the trappings of a crown, backed by military pomp and show, and looked for rest only in the goal of liberty.

The following extract from his speech in that convention will best convey a correct idea of his feelings and emotions, deeply felt and strongly told.

“Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that syren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty! Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who, having eyes see not, and having ears hear not the things that so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth—to know the worst and provide for it.

“I have but one lamp to guide my feet, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging the future but by the past. Judging from the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen are pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has lately been received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations that cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation—the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir; she has none. They are meant for us—they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we any thing new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable, but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not already been exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done every thing that could be done to avert the storm that is coming on. We have petitioned—we have remonstrated—we have supplicated—we have prostrated ourselves before the throne and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult, our supplications have been disregarded, and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne.

“In vain after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. _There is no longer any room for hope._ If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, _we must fight_! I repeat it, sir, _we must fight_! An appeal to arms and the God of Hosts is all that is left us! It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that comes from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, _give me liberty or death_!”

The effect of this speech was electrical. The cry, “_to arms_,” burst from every quarter—“_liberty or death_,” resounded and rang through every ear and was responded by every patriot. The resolutions were seconded and supported by Richard Henry Lee, and were adopted without further opposition. A committee was immediately appointed to carry them into effect. From that time forward, the old dominion was renewed, regenerated, and free. Her richest blood was poured out freely in the cause of liberty and equal rights.

Soon after this convention had adjourned, Lord Dunmore removed a part of the powder from the magazine at Williamsburg on board of one of his majesty’s ships. On being informed of this transaction, Patrick Henry collected a military force in Hanover and King William counties, and repaired to the seat of government, demanding the restoration of the powder or its equivalent in cash. An order for the amount in money was received, and no blood shed. A proclamation was issued against these daring rebels, which only seemed to unite the people more strongly in favour of their orator and soldier, whose conduct they highly approved at several public meetings convened on the occasion.

In August, 1775, Mr. Henry was again chosen a delegate to the Continental Congress, and in June of the following year, governor of his native state. He held this important office during that and the ensuing year, but declined serving the third year, although unanimously re-elected. His zeal in the glorious cause he had espoused did not languish or grow cold. In 1780 he took his seat in the assembly of his state, and manifested all the activity and vigour that characterized the commencement of his bold and useful career. In 1788 he was a member of the Virginia convention convened for the consideration of the constitution of the United States, then submitted for approval or rejection. To that instrument Mr. Henry was then strongly opposed, because, as he contended, it consolidated the states into one government, thereby destroying the sovereignty of each. His eloquence on that occasion was raised to its highest pitch, but could not prevail. His resolution against it was lost. His closing speech on that now revered instrument, was said to have surpassed either of his former efforts, and operated so powerfully, that but a small majority voted for the new constitution. During his remarks an incident occurred which enabled him to almost paralyze his audience. After describing the magnitude of the question, on the determination of which hung the happiness or woe of the present generation, and millions yet unborn, with a voice and countenance solemn as eternity, and his eyes raised upwards, he appealed to the God of heaven and to angels then hovering over their heads, to witness the thrilling scene, and invoked their aid in the mighty work before him. At that moment a sudden thunder gust commenced its fury and shook the very earth. Upon the wings of the tempest his stentorian voice continued to rise—he figuratively seized the artillery of the elements as by supernatural power, hurled the liquid lightning at the heads of his opponents, and seemed commissioned by the great Jehovah to execute a deed of vengeance. The scene was awfully sublime, the effect tremendous. The purple current rushed back upon the fountain of life, every countenance was pale, every eye was fixed, every muscle was electrified, every vein was contracted, every heart was agonized, the scene became insupportable, the members rushed from their seats in confusion and left the house without the formality of an adjournment.

He remained in the assembly until 1791, when he declined a re-election, and expressed a strong desire to retire from public life. He had toiled long, faithfully and successfully, and wished for that repose found only in the bosom of our families.

In 1795, president Washington, for whom he had an unbounded veneration, offered him the high station of secretary of state. With becoming gratitude to his friend and the father of his country, he declined the proffered honour, and chose to remain in retirement. The following year he was again elected governor of his native state, but declined serving. In 1799 he was appointed by president Adams an envoy to France in conjunction with Messrs. Murray and Ellsworth. His declining health would not permit him to accept of this last appointment with which he was honoured. Disease was fast consummating the work of death, and destroying rapidly the hardy constitution and athletic frame that had enabled him to perform his duty so nobly during the trying scenes of the revolution. He was aware that the work of dissolution was going on, and awaited his final exit with calm submission and Christian fortitude. On the 6th of June, 1799, he resigned his spirit to Him who gave it, threw off the mortal coil and was numbered with the dead, aged but 61 years. His loss was deeply mourned by the American nation, and most strongly felt by those who knew him best. The following affectionate tribute is from the pen of one who knew him well.

“Mourn, Virginia, mourn! your Henry is gone. Ye friends to liberty in every clime, drop a tear. No more will his social feelings spread delight through his happy house. No more will his edifying example dictate to his numerous offspring the sweetness of virtue and the majesty of patriotism. No more will his sage advice, guided by zeal for the common happiness, impart light and utility to his caressing neighbours. No more will he illuminate the public councils with sentiments drawn from the cabinet of his own mind, ever directed to his country’s good, and clothed in eloquence sublime, delightful and commanding. Farewell, first rate patriot, farewell. As long as our rivers flow, or mountains stand, so long will your excellence and worth be the theme of our homage and endearment; and Virginia, bearing in mind her loss, will say to rising generations—imitate my Henry.”

In reviewing the character of this truly great man from the commencement of his public career, his examples in public and private life are worthy of veneration and the closest imitation. The rust of his youth was soon removed, and he became in all respects a brilliant and polished man. His habits were rigidly temperate, his conduct, as a gentleman, a public functionary, an amiable citizen and a devoted christian, was beyond reproach. Although when he believed himself in the right, he maintained his position with great zeal and ardour, he was always open to conviction. Although he opposed the adoption of the federal constitution when it was under consideration, he subsequently became convinced of its utility, and highly approved of its form and substance.

As a husband, a father, a master, a neighbour and a friend, he had no superior. As an advocate, an orator, a statesman and a patriot, his fame stands in all its glory, uneclipsed and unsurpassed. As Grattan said of Pitt, there was something in Patrick Henry that could create, subvert, or reform; an understanding, a spirit, an eloquence to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wilderness of free minds with unbounded authority; something that could establish or overwhelm empire, and strike a blow in the world that should resound through the universe.

He was twice married and the father of fifteen children. The closing paragraph of his will is worthy of record, and shows the veneration he felt for the religion of the Cross.

“I have now disposed of all my property to my family; there is one thing more I wish I could give them, and that is the christian religion. If they had this and I had not given them one shilling, they would be rich; and if they had not that, and I had given them all the world, they would be poor.” This short paragraph, coming from one of the most gigantic minds that ever investigated the truths of revelation, speaks volumes in favour of that religion which is despised by some—neglected by millions—and is the one thing needful to fit us for heaven and prepare us for the

“Great day for which all other days were made,
For which earth rose from chaos,—man from earth,
And an eternity—the date of gods,
Descended on poor earth-created man!”