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Brief biographies from American history, for the fifth and sixth grades cover

Brief biographies from American history, for the fifth and sixth grades

Chapter 26: Patrick Henry An Eloquent Orator
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About This Book

This collection presents concise, accessible life sketches of figures important to the development of the United States, arranged to match elementary-school syllabi and aimed at fifth- and sixth-grade readers. Short chapters trace exploration, colonization, political leadership, scientific and industrial innovation, and military episodes, emphasizing vivid biographical detail and dramatic incidents to engage young pupils. Language is plain and economical, with chronological and topical ordering intended to introduce major personalities and moments in American history without attempting continuous national narrative, serving as a primer for further study.

Patrick Henry
An Eloquent Orator

Up to the very time that war was begun, Franklin hoped that it might be averted; even then while he hoped that the colonies would get their rights, he expected them to remain subject to England. Patrick Henry was one of the few men who looked with eagle eye into the future and saw that the American cause—the cause of freedom—must be upheld by force of arms.

Patrick Henry was born in Virginia, in 1736. He was an awkward and idle lad who picked up a smattering of an education at an “old field school,” as the country schools of the time were called. He was fond of books, but fonder still of his gun and his fishing-rod with which he spent most of his spare time in the woods.

It was, however, necessary for him to set to work when a boy of fifteen. He became a clerk in a store and then opened a little shop of his own—but he did not succeed either as clerk or shopkeeper. He married in young manhood and in order to support his wife and children he went to work on a farm; here also he failed. He went back to shopkeeping—and failed again. By this time people had a poor opinion of the idle, slovenly young man whose life had been a series of failures. The truth is, Henry was like a fish out of water; but in the course of time he was to find his element.

At the age of twenty-four, he read law for six weeks, was examined by judges, and was given a license to practice the profession. The judges granted his license with much hesitation. Henry was ignorant of the law,—had indeed read only the Virginia Statutes and one other law book. But he showed remarkable powers of thought and reasoning, natural not acquired qualifications, and the license was granted on condition that he would continue to study. One of the judges said, “Mr. Henry, if your industry be only half equal to your genius, I augur that you will do well, and become an ornament and an honor to your profession.”

It is not strange, however, that the small amount of law business which was in his community did not come Henry’s way. People naturally preferred to put their business in the hands of those whom they considered better qualified. He eked out a support for his family by aiding his father-in-law to manage a tavern.

In 1763 he had what seems to have been his first really important case,—one which was turned over to him because no one else cared to undertake it. This was the famous “Parsons’ Case.” In order to understand it, you must remember that the colony of Virginia was then a part of England and that the church of England, like its civil government, was established by law. The salaries of clergymen were raised by a regular tax on all the people. As money was scarce in the colonies, this tax was paid in tobacco which was the regular currency of Virginia. By law sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco was a clergyman’s yearly salary.

The people do not seem to have objected to paying these salaries, and usually they found no fault with the amount of them. Twice, however, after bad crop years, the House of Burgesses passed laws allowing the payment of money instead of tobacco at a rate lower than the price of tobacco in these years of scarcity. Naturally, the clergymen did not like this, and they finally appealed to the king of England who decided that the salaries must be paid in tobacco every year. So the clergymen of Hanover county where Henry lived brought suit for the loss sustained by the payment of money instead of tobacco. As the king, who was the supreme authority, had decided the matter in favor of the clergymen, it seemed that there was nothing for the Virginia courts to do but to agree on the amount of damages due and pay them. Henry, however, offered to plead the case against the parsons and plead it he did with unexpected power. He told the people fearlessly that this was a matter for them to decide. They were to be governed by their House of Burgesses. It had made this law, and the king of England had no right to gainsay it. Henry spoke so eloquently that he won the sympathy of all. The jury could not put aside the king’s decree but it gave a nominal adherence to that and a real one to Henry’s argument; for it stated the clergymen’s damages as one penny each, about two cents.

From that time Henry was “the man of the people;” a little ahead of the conservative element, but always in sympathy with the people and always upon the side of the cause which in the end proved right. After his success in “the Parsons’ Case,” he did not lack law business. He was sent in the spring of 1765 to the House of Burgesses at Williamsburg. This was then the site of the Virginia government; having been selected after Jamestown was burned in the Great Rebellion.

The people of the colonies—even the loyal Virginians—were beginning to be dissatisfied with the treatment of the mother-country. The Seven Years’ War between England and France had come to an end two years before. It had, of course, cost a great deal of money; in particular, the sending of troops and supplies against the French in America had been very expensive. The English government said that the colonies ought to bear a large share of the war debt; the contest had begun on the American frontier and the English victory had extended colonial territory and trade. On the whole, this was not unfair. Probably the colonies would have agreed to it, if they had been allowed to send representatives to parliament—the English legislative body which has the power of taxation. But the English were not willing to grant that right. Then, said the Americans, “We must not be taxed. ‘Taxation without representation is tyranny.’”

England paid little attention to the protests from America. A Stamp Act was passed,—that is, a law requiring a stamp to be put on all papers to make them legal. The money for these stamps was to be a source of revenue to help pay the war debt. When the matter was being discussed, Virginia protested against this Stamp Act. Nevertheless, in May, 1765, a copy of the act was sent to the Virginia legislature, with the information that it had become a law and must be enforced at a certain time.

In the House of Burgesses, in 1765, among stately gentlemen in silks and velvets with their curled and powdered wigs, sat a raw country man dressed in shabby clothes and wearing his own plain hair. This was Patrick Henry. One day he arose and addressed that gathering of high-bred scholarly men and presented certain resolutions to the effect that the people of the colonies had all the rights and privileges of the people of Great Britain,—were like them Englishmen—and that the taxes must, according to “characteristics of British freedom” be laid by the people themselves or by those chosen by them—that only the general assembly of Virginia had a right to lay taxes on Virginians, and that the people were not bound to obey any other laws.

In the heated discussion which followed, Henry protested against the despotic action of the king. “Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles I. his Cromwell, and George III.”—

“Treason, treason!” came the interruption.

“May profit by their example,” concluded the orator. “If that be treason make the most of it.”

Henry’s resolutions were carried by a majority of one. These resolutions and his speech had “started the ball of revolution rolling.” The Stamp Act, so vigorously protested against, was repealed, but new and hateful taxes were laid on tea, glass, paper, and other articles.

Ten years passed during which Henry practiced his profession, served four years in the House of Burgesses, and took an interest in all public questions. During these ten years, the colonies had drifted and been driven further from England, the mother-country. Patrick Henry saw that the encroachments on the rights of the people must be resisted—not by words now, but by arms. In the spring of 1775 a convention of Virginia leaders met in St. John’s church in Richmond to consider the state of the country.

Henry rose and “resolved that this colony be immediately put in a posture of defence.” The matter was argued earnestly; many men advised sending new petitions to the king. Then Patrick Henry made the speech, which every schoolboy knows, urging not petition but action. “Is life so dear,” he ended, “or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take but as for me give me liberty or give me death!”

He carried the patriots with him and his resolutions were passed; thus Virginia announced that she would fight for her rights. A few weeks later the English general, Gage, attacked the people in Massachusetts and the colonies sprang to arms.

Henry served three years as governor of Virginia. After the Revolution, he took for some time an active part in public affairs and then withdrew to private life. In 1799, at the personal request of Washington, he became a candidate for office and was elected to the House of Delegates. But he did not live to take his seat, dying June 6, 1799.