Evelyn Byrd.
Considered one of the most beautiful women in Virginia, or of her time.
[FROM AN OLD PAINTING.]
His writings are among the most interesting that we have, being remarkable for their wit and culture, a certain poetic vein, a keen interest in nature, a simple religious faith, a fund of cheerful courage and good sense, and a fine consideration for others.
SELECTING THE SITE OF RICHMOND AND PETERSBURG, SEPT., 1733.
(From A Journey to the Land of Eden.)
When we got home, we laid the foundations of two large Citys. One at Shacco’s, to be called Richmond, and the other at the Point of Appamattuck River, to be nam’d Petersburgh. These Major Mayo offered to lay out into Lots without Fee or Reward. The Truth of it is, these two places being the uppermost Landing of James and Appamattux Rivers, are naturally intended for Marts, where the Traffick of the Outer Inhabitants must Center. Thus we did not build Castles only, but also Citys in the Air.
A VISIT TO EX-GOVERNOR SPOTSWOOD, 1732.
(From A Progress to the Mines.)
Then I came into the Main County Road, that leads from Fredericksburgh to Germanna, which last place I reacht in Ten Miles more. This famous Town consists of Colo. Spotswood’s enchanted Castle on one Side of the Street, and a Baker’s Dozen of ruinous Tenements on the other, where so many German Familys had dwelt some Years ago; but are now remov’d ten Miles higher, in the Fork of Rappahannock, to Land of their Own. There had also been a Chappel about a Bow-Shot from the Colonel’s house, at the End of an Avenue of Cherry Trees, but some pious people had lately burnt it down, with intent to get another built nearer to their own homes.
Here I arriv’d about three o clock, and found only Mrs. Spotswood at Home, who receiv’d her Old acquaintance with many a gracious Smile. I was carry’d into a Room elegantly set off with Pier Glasses, the largest of which came soon after to an odd Misfortune. Amongst other favourite Animals that cheer’d this Lady’s Solitude, a Brace of Tame Deer ran familiarly about the House, and one of them came to stare at me as a Stranger. But unluckily Spying his own Figure in the Glass, he made a spring over the Tea Table that stood under it, and shatter’d the Glass to pieces, and falling-back upon the Tea Table, made a terrible Fracas among the China. This Exploit was so sudden, and accompany’d with such a Noise, that it surpriz’d me, and perfectly frighten’d Mrs. Spotswood. But twas worth all the Damage to shew the Moderation and good humour with which she bore this disaster.
In the Evening, the noble Colo. came home from his Mines, who saluted me very civilly, and Mrs. Spotswood’s Sister, Miss Theky, who had been to meet him en Cavalier, was so kind too as to bid me welcome. We talkt over a Legend of old Storys, supp’d about 9, and then prattl’d with the Ladys, til twas time for a Travellour to retire. In the mean time I observ’d my old Friend to be very Uxorious, and exceedingly fond of his Children. This was so opposite to the Maxims he us’d to preach up before he was marryed, that I cou’d not forbear rubbing up the Memory of them. But he gave a very good-natur’d turn to his Change of Sentiments, by alleging that whoever brings a poor Gentlewoman into so solitary a place, from all her Friends and acquaintance, wou’d be ungrateful not to use her and all that belongs to her with all possible Tenderness.
We all kept Snug in our several apartments till Nine, except Miss Theky, who was the Housewife of the Family. At that hour we met over a Pot of Coffee, which was not quite strong enough to give us the Palsy. After Breakfast the Colo. and I left the Ladys to their Domestick Affairs, and took a turn in the Garden, which has nothing beautiful but 3 Terrace Walks that fall in Slopes one below another. I let him understand, that besides the pleasure of paying him a Visit, I came to be instructed by so great a Master in the Mystery of Making of Iron, wherein he had led the way, and was the Tubal Cain of Virginia. He corrected me a little there, by assuring me he was not only the first in this Country, but the first in North America, who had erected a regular Furnace. . . That the 4 Furnaces now at work in Virginia circulated a great Sum of Money for Provisions and all other necessarys in the adjacent Countys. That they took off a great Number of Hands from Planting Tobacco, and employ’d them in Works that produced a large Sum of Money in England to the persons concern’d, whereby the Country is so much the Richer. That they are besides a considerable advantage to Great Britain, because it lessens the Quantity of Bar Iron imported from Spain, Holland, Sweden, Denmark, and Muscovy, which us’d to be no less than 20,000 Tuns yearly. . .
Then I inquired after his own Mines, and hoped, as he was the first that engaged in this great undertaking, that he had brought them to the most perfection. . . He said it was true His works were of the oldest Standing; but that his long absence in England, and the wretched Management of Mr. Greame, whom he had entrusted with his Affairs, had put him back very much. That what with Neglect and Severity, above 80 of his Slaves were lost while he was in England, and most of his Cattle starved. That his Furnace stood still great part of the time, and all his Plantations ran to ruin. That indeed he was rightly serv’d for committing his Affairs to the care of a Mathematician, whose thoughts were always among the Stars. That nevertheless, since his return, he had apply’d himself to rectify his Steward’s Mistakes, and bring his Business again into Order. That now he contriv’d to do every thing with his own People, except raising the Mine and running the Iron, by which he had contracted his Expence very much. Nay, he believ’d that by his directions he cou’d bring sensible Negroes to perform those parts of the work tolerably well. . . Our Conversation on this Subject continued till Dinner, which was both elegant and plentifull.
The afternoon was devoted to the ladys, who shew’d me one of their most beautiful Walks. They conducted me thro’ a Shady Lane to the Landing, and by the way made me drink some very fine Water that issued from a Marble Fountain, and ran incessantly. Just behind it was a cover’d Bench, where Miss Theky often sat and bewail’d her Virginity. Then we proceeded to the River, which is the South Branch of Rappahannock, about 50 Yards wide, and so rapid that the Ferry Boat is drawn over by a Chain, and therefore called the Rapidan. At night we drank prosperity to all the Colonel’s Projects in a Bowl of Rack Punch, and then retired to our Devotions.
The Chapel, University of Georgia, at Athens. Erected 1832.
DISMAL SWAMP.
(From The Dividing Line.)
1728, March.—Tis hardly credible how little the Bordering inhabitants were acquainted with this mighty Swamp, notwithstanding they had liv’d their whole lives within Smell of it. Yet, as great Strangers as they were to it, they pretended to be very exact in their Account of its Demensions, and were positive it could not be above 7 or 8 Miles wide, but knew no more of the Matter than Star-gazers know of the Distance of the Fixt Stars. At the Same time, they were Simple enough to amuse our Men with Idle Stories of the Lyons, Panthers, and Alligators, they were like to encounter in that dreadful Place.
In short, we saw plainly there was no Intelligence of this Terra Incognita to be got, but from our own Experience. For that Reason it was resolv’d to make the requisite Disposition to enter it next Morning. We alloted every one of the Surveyors for this painful Enterprise, with 12 Men to attend them. . . . . . .
Besides this Luggage at their Backs, they were oblig’d to measure the distance, mark the Trees, and clear the way for the Surveyors every step they went. It was really a Pleasure to see with how much Cheerfulness they undertook, and with how much Spirit they went thro’ all this Drudgery. . . . . . . . . .
Altho’ there was no need of Example to inflame Persons already so cheerful, yet to enter the People with the better grace, the Author and two more of the Commissioners accompanied them half a Mile into the Dismal. The Skirts of it were thinly Planted with Dwarf Reeds and Gall-Bushes, but when we got into the Dismal itself, we found the Reeds grew there much taller and closer, and, to mend the matter, was so interlac’d with bamboe-briars, that there was no scuffling thro’ them without the help of Pioneers. At the same time, we found the Ground moist and trembling under our feet like a Quagmire, insomuch that it was an easy Matter to run a Ten-Foot-Pole up to the Head in it, without exerting any uncommon Strength to do it.
Two of the Men, whose Burthens were the least cumbersome, had orders to march before, with their Tomahawks, and clear the way, in order to make an Opening for the Surveyors. By their Assistance we made a Shift to push the Line half a Mile in 3 Hours, and then reacht a small piece of firm Land, about 100 Yards wide, Standing up above the rest like an Island. Here the people were glad to lay down their Loads and take a little refreshment, while the happy man, whose lot it was to carry the Jugg of Rum, began already, like Æsop’s Bread-Carriers, to find it grow a good deal lighter. . . . . . .
Since the Surveyors had enter’d the Dismal, they had laid Eyes on no living Creature: neither Bird nor Beast, Insect nor Reptile came in View. Doubtless, the Eternal Shade that broods over this mighty Bog, and hinders the sun-beams from blessing the Ground, makes it an uncomfortable Habitation for any thing that has life. Not so much as a Zealand Frog cou’d endure so Aguish a Situation.
It had one Beauty, however, that delighted the Eye, tho’ at the Expense of all the other Senses; the Moisture of the Soil preserves a continual Verdure, and makes every Plant an Evergreen, but at the same time the foul Damps ascend without ceasing, corrupt the Air, and render it unfit for Respiration. Not even a Turkey-Buzzard will venture to fly over it, no more than the Italian Vultures will over the filthy Lake Avernus, or the Birds of the Holy Land over the Salt Sea, where Sodom and Gomorrah formerly stood.
. . . . . . . . .
How they Slept in the Dismal Swamp.—They first cover’d the Ground with Square Pieces of Cypress bark, which now, in the Spring, they cou’d easily Slip off the Tree for that purpose. On this they Spread their Bedding; but unhappily the Weight and Warmth of their Bodies made the Water rise up betwixt the Joints of the Bark, to their great Inconvenience. Thus they lay not only moist, but also exceedingly cold, because their Fires were continually going out. . . . . . . .
We could get no Tidings yet of our Brave Adventurers, notwithstanding we despacht men to the likeliest Stations to enquire after them. They were still Scuffleing in the Mire, and could not Possibly forward the Line this whole day more than one Mile and 64 Chains. Every Step of this Day’s Work was thro’ a cedar Bog, where the Trees were somewhat Smaller and grew more into a Thicket. It was now a great Misfortune to the Men to find their Provisions grow less as their Labour grew greater. . . . Tho’ this was very severe upon English Stomachs, yet the People were so far from being discomfited at it, that they still kept up their good Humour, and merrily told a young Fellow in the Company, who lookt very Plump and Wholesome, that he must expect to go first to Pot, if matters shou’d come to Extremity.
This was only said by way of Jest, yet it made Him thoughtful in earnest. However, for the present he return’d them a very civil answer, letting them know that, dead or alive, he shou’d be glad to be useful to such worthy good friends. But, after all, this Humourous Saying had one very good effect; for that younker, who before was a little enclin’d by his Constitution to be lazy, grew on a Sudden Extreamly Industrious, that so there might be less Occasion to carbonade him for the good of his Fellow-Travellers.
THE TUSCARORA INDIANS AND THEIR LEGEND OF A CHRIST.
(From History of the Dividing Line.)
1729, November.—By the Strength of our Beef, we made a shift to walk about 12 Miles, crossing Blowing and Tewaw-homini Creeks. And because this last Stream receiv’d its Appellation from the Disaster of a Tuscarora Indian, it will not be Straggling much out of the way to say something of that Particular Nation.
These Indians were heretofore very numerous and powerful, making, within time of Memory, at least a Thousand Fighting Men. Their Habitation, before the War with Carolina, was on the North Branch of Neuse River, commonly call’d Connecta Creek, in a pleasant and fruitful Country. But now the few that are left of that Nation live on the North Side of Moratuck, which is all that Part of Roanok below the great Falls, towards Albemarle Sound.
Formerly there were Seven Towns of these Savages, lying not far from each other, but now their Number is greatly reduc’d. . . . . . . .
These Indians have a very odd Tradition amongst them, that many years ago, their Nation was grown so dishonest, that no man cou’d keep any Goods, or so much as his loving Wife to himself. That, however, their God, being unwilling to root them out for their crimes, did them the honour to send a Messenger from Heaven to instruct them, and set Them a perfect Example of Integrity and kind Behaviour towards one another.
But this holy Person, with all his Eloquence and Sanctity of Life, was able to make very little Reformation amongst them. Some few Old men did listen a little to his Wholesome Advice, but all the Young fellows were quite incorrigible. They not only Neglected his Precepts, but derided and Evil Entreated his Person. At last, taking upon Him to reprove some Young Rakes of the Conechta Clan very sharply for their impiety, they were so provok’d at the Freedom of his Rebukes, that they tied him to a Tree, and shot him with Arrows through the Heart. But their God took instant Vengeance on all who had a hand in that Monstrous Act, by Lightning from Heaven, & has ever since visited their Nation with a continued Train of Calamities, nor will he ever leave off punishing, and wasting their People, till he shall have blotted every living Soul of them out of the World.
SECOND PERIOD ... 1750-1800.
HENRY LAURENS.
1724=1792.
Henry Laurens, one of the patriot-fathers of our country, was born in Charleston, South Carolina. He was educated in his native city, and, becoming a merchant, amassed a fortune in business. In 1771 he travelled with his children in Europe in order to educate them. Returning home he became in 1775 a member of the Provincial Congress, and on Hancock’s resignation, president of the Continental Congress. He was appointed in 1779 minister to Holland, and on his way was captured by the British and confined in the Tower fifteen months. He became acquainted with Edmund Burke while in London. He was twice offered pardon if he would serve the British Ministry, but of course he declined. During this imprisonment, his son John, called the “Bayard of the Revolution” for his daring bravery, was killed in battle.
After his release, being exchanged for Lord Cornwallis, he was appointed one of the ministers to negotiate peace in 1782. His health was so impaired by the cruel treatment of his jailers, that he could take no further active part in affairs, and he passed the rest of his life in the retirement of his plantation. On his death, his body was burned, according to his express will, the first instance, in this country, of cremation.
His daughter Martha married Dr. David Ramsay, the historian.
WORKS.
Political Papers [some of which have been published by the South Carolina Historical Society].
These are of great value in a study of the Revolutionary times.
A PATRIOT IN THE TOWER.
(From Narrative of his Confinement in the Tower.)
Tower of London.
About 11 o’clock at night I was sent under a strong guard, up three pair of stairs in Scotland Yard, into a very small chamber. Two king’s messengers were placed for the whole night at one door, and a subaltern’s guard of soldiers at the other. As I was, and had been for some days, so ill as to be incapable of getting into or out of a carriage, or up or down stairs, without help, I looked upon all this parade to be calculated for intimidation. My spirits were good and I smiled inwardly. The next morning, 6th October, from Scotland Yard, I was conducted again under guard to the secretary’s office, White Hall. . . I was first asked, by Lord Stormont, “If my name was Henry Laurens.” “Certainly, my Lord, that is my name.” . . . . His Lordship then said, “Mr. Laurens, we have a paper here” (holding the paper up), “purporting to be a commission from Congress to you, to borrow money in Europe for the use of Congress.” . . . I replied, “My Lords, your Lordships are in possession of the paper, and will make such use of it as your Lordships shall judge proper.” I had not destroyed this paper, as it would serve to establish the rank and character in which I was employed by the United States. . . . . From White Hall, I was conducted in a close hackney coach, under the charge of Colonel Williamson, a polite, genteel officer, and two of the illest-looking fellows I had ever seen. The coach was ordered to proceed by the most private ways to the Tower. It had been rumored that a rescue would be attempted. At the Tower the Colonel delivered me to Major Gore, the residing Governor, who, as I was afterwards well informed, had previously concerted a plan for mortifying me. He ordered rooms for me in the most conspicuous part of the Tower (the parade). The people of the house, particularly the mistress, entreated the Governor not to burthen them with a prisoner. He replied, “It is necessary. I am determined to expose him.” This was, however, a lucky determination for me. The people were respectful and kindly attentive to me, from the beginning of my confinement to the end; and I contrived, after being told of the Governor’s humane declaration, so to garnish my windows by honeysuckles, and a grape-vine running under them, as to conceal myself entirely from the sight of starers, and at the same time to have myself a full view of them. Governor Gore conducted me to my apartments at a warder’s house. As I was entering the house, I heard some of the people say, “Poor old gentleman, bowed down with infirmities. He is come to lay his bones here.” My reflection was, “I shall not leave a bone with you.”
I was very sick, but my spirits were good, and my mind foreboding good from the event of being a prisoner in London. Their Lordships’ orders were: “To confine me a close prisoner; to be locked up every night; to be in the custody of two wardens, who were not to suffer me to be out of their sight one moment, day or night; to allow me no liberty of speaking to any person, nor to permit any person to speak to me; to deprive me of the use of pen and ink; to suffer no letter to be brought to me, nor any to go from me,” etc. As an apology, I presume for their first rigor, the wardens gave me their orders to peruse. . .
And now I found myself a close prisoner, indeed; shut up in two small rooms, which together made about twenty feet square; a warder my constant companion; and a fixed bayonet under my window; not a friend to converse with, and no prospect of a correspondence. . . .
September 23d.—For some time past I have been frequently and strongly tempted to make my escape from the Tower, assured, “It was the advice and desire of all my friends, the thing might be easily effected, the face of American affairs was extremely gloomy. That I might have eighteen hours’ start before I was missed; time enough to reach Margate and Ostend; that it was believed there would be no pursuit,” etc., etc. I had always said, “I hate the name of a runaway.” At length I put a stop to farther applications by saying, “I will not attempt an escape. The gates were opened for me to enter; they shall be opened for me to go out of the Tower. God Almighty sent me here for some purpose. I am determined to see the end of it.”
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
1732=1799.
George Washington’s life is so well known, it is so simple, so grand, that a few words can tell it, and yet volumes would not exhaust it. His mother’s remark, “George was always a good son,” sums up his character; and his title, “Father of his Country,” sums up his life-work.
George Washington.
He was born at Pope’s Creek, Westmoreland County, Virginia, and became a surveyor, being employed in that capacity at the early age of sixteen by Lord Fairfax, governor of Virginia. He joined the English troops sent under General Braddock against the French in 1756, and his bravery and good sense in this expedition gained him great renown. In 1775 he was made commander-in-chief of the American forces against the English and he conducted the war of the Revolution to a successful issue in 1783. He was the first president of the United States, being elected in 1789, and again in 1793, declining a third term in 1797. He retired to private life at Mt. Vernon, his home in Virginia. Here he died, and here he lies buried, his tomb being a shrine of pilgrimage for all his countrymen and admirers.
Innumerable monuments rise all over our land commemorating his virtues and pointing him out as a model for the youth of America. One of the finest is that at Richmond, designed by Crawford, an equestrian statue in bronze, surrounded by colossal figures of Jefferson, Mason, Patrick Henry, Lewis, Marshall, and Nelson. The marble statue by Houdon in the Capitol at Richmond is considered the best figure of Washington; it was done from life in 1788. Other noble memorials are the Column at Baltimore, and the great obelisk at Washington City, called the Washington Monument, the latter designed by Robert Mills, of South Carolina, and intended originally to have a colonnade around the base containing the statues of the illustrious men of our country.
WORKS.
State Papers, Addresses, Letters—12 volumes.
Washington’s writings are like his character, simple, clear, sensible, without any pretensions to special culture or literary grace. These extracts show his modesty, his love of truth, and his general good sense. See under Madison, Weems, and Henry Lee.
An Honest Man.
I hope I shall always possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain, what I consider the most enviable of all titles, the character of an “honest man.”—Moral Maxims.
How to Answer Calumny.
To persevere in one’s duty and be silent is the best answer to calumny.—Moral Maxims.
Conscience.
Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire,—conscience.—Rule from the Copy-book of Washington when a school boy.
ON HIS APPOINTMENT AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.
[Delivered in Congress, 16 June, 1775.]
Mr. President: Though I am truly sensible of the high honor done me, in this appointment, yet I feel great distress, from a consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust. However, as the Congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert every power I possess in their service, and for the support of the glorious cause. I beg they will accept my most cordial thanks for this distinguished testimony of their approbation.
But, lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in the room, that I, this day, declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with.
As to pay, Sir, I beg leave to assure the Congress, that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment, at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge, and that is all I desire.
Washington Taking the Oath of Office.
A MILITARY DINNER-PARTY.
[Letter to Dr. John Cochran, West Point, 16 August, 1779.]
Dear Doctor: I have asked Mrs. Cochran and Mrs. Livingston to dine with me to-morrow; but am I not in honor bound to apprise them of their fare? As I hate deception, even where the imagination only is concerned, I will. It is needless to premise, that my table is large enough to hold the ladies. Of this they had ocular proof yesterday. To say how it is usually covered, is rather more essential; and this shall be the purport of my letter.
Since our arrival at this happy spot, we have had a ham, sometimes a shoulder of bacon, to grace the head of the table; a piece of roast beef adorns the foot; and a dish of beans, or greens, almost imperceptible, decorates the centre. When the cook has a mind to cut a figure, which I presume will be the case to-morrow, we have two beef-steak pies, or dishes of crabs, in addition, one on each side of the centre dish, dividing the space and reducing the distance between dish and dish to about six feet, which without them would be near twelve feet apart. Of late he has had the surprising sagacity to discover, that apples will make pies; and it is a question, if, in the violence of his efforts, we do not get one of apples, instead of having both of beef-steaks. If the ladies can put up with such entertainment, and will submit to partake of it on plates, once tin but now iron (not become so by the labor of scouring), I shall be happy to see them; and am, dear Doctor, yours, etc.
ADVICE TO A FAVORITE NEPHEW.
[From a Letter to Bushrod Washington.—Newburgh, 15 Jan., 1783.]
Remember, that it is not the mere study of the law, but to become eminent in the profession of it, that is to yield honor and profit. The first was your choice; let the second be your ambition. Dissipation is incompatible with both; the company, in which you will improve most, will be least expensive to you; and yet I am not such a stoic as to suppose that you will, or to think it right that you should, always be in company with senators and philosophers; but of the juvenile kind let me advise you to be choice. It is easy to make acquaintances, but very difficult to shake them off, however irksome and unprofitable they are found, after we have once committed ourselves to them. The indiscretions, which very often they involuntarily lead one into, prove equally distressing and disgraceful.
Be courteous to all, but intimate with few; and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.
Let your heart feel for the distresses and afflictions of every one, and let your hand give in proportion to your purse; remembering always the estimation of the widow’s mite, but, that it is not every one who asketh, that deserveth charity; all, however, are worthy of the inquiry, or the deserving may suffer.
Do not conceive that fine clothes make fine men, any more than fine feathers make fine birds. A plain, genteel dress is more admired, and obtains more credit, than lace and embroidery, in the eyes of the judicious and sensible.
PASSAGES FROM THE FAREWELL ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES, 1796.
Union and Liberty.—Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to fortify or confirm the attachment.
The unity of government which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence; the support of your tranquillity at home; your peace abroad; of your safety; of your prosperity; of that very liberty which you so highly prize. But, as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes, and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth; as this is the point in your political fortress against which the batteries of internal and external enemies will be most constantly and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) directed; it is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the immense value of your national union to your collective and individual happiness; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can, in any event, be abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts.
For this you have every inducement of sympathy and interest. Citizens by birth, or choice, of a common country, that country has a right to concentrate your affections. The name of American, which belongs to you in your national capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more than any appellation derived from local discriminations. With slight shades of difference, you have the same religion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have, in a common cause, fought and triumphed together; the independence and liberty you possess, are the work of joint counsels, and joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and successes.
But these considerations, however powerfully they address themselves to your sensibility, are greatly outweighed by those which apply more immediately to your interest. Here, every portion of our country finds the most commanding motives for carefully guarding and preserving the union of the whole. . . . .
. . . While then every part of our country thus feels an immediate and particular interest in union, all the parts combined cannot fail to find in the united mass of means and efforts, greater strength, greater resource, proportionably greater security from external danger, a less frequent interruption of their peace by foreign nations; and, what is of inestimable value, they must derive from union an exemption from those broils and wars between themselves, which so frequently afflict neighbouring countries not tied together by the same government; which their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to produce, but which opposite foreign alliances, attachments, and intrigues, would stimulate and imbitter. Hence, likewise, they will avoid the necessity of those overgrown military establishments, which under any form of government are inauspicious to liberty, and which are to be regarded as particularly hostile to republican liberty. In this sense it is, that your union ought to be considered as a main prop of your liberty, and that the love of the one ought to endear to you the preservation of the other. . . . .
Party Spirit.—I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the State, with particular references to the founding them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner, against the baleful effects of the spirit of party generally.
This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy.
The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissensions, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and, sooner or later, the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation on the ruins of public liberty.
Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight), the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party, are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it. . . . .
There is an opinion that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of liberty. This, within certain limits, is probably true; and, in governments of a monarchical cast, patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favour, upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent it bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.
Religion and Morality.—Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labour to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked, where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice?
And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect, that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.
It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to every species of free government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabrick? . . . .
Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; cultivate peace and harmony with all. Religion and morality enjoin this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, and, at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous and too novel example of a people always guided by an exalted justice and benevolence. Who can doubt but, in the course of time and things, the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary advantages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it; can it be that Providence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue? The experiment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human nature.
PATRICK HENRY.
1736=1799.
This great orator was born at Studley, Hanover County, Virginia; and, while his early education in books was not extensive, he studied man and nature from life very deeply and thoroughly. He attempted farming and merchandising for some years, then read law and at the age of twenty-four was admitted to the bar where his splendid powers had full scope. In 1765 he was elected to the State Legislature, or House of Burgesses, as it was then called.
In the words of Thomas Jefferson, “Mr. Henry certainly gave the first impulse to the ball of the Revolution.” During the war, he served at first in the field, and later in the Legislature, and as governor, being elected three times. He retired from public life in 1791 and devoted himself to his law practice, by which he gained wealth.
Old St. John’s Church, Richmond, Va.
His most famous speech was delivered before the Convention sitting in council in the old St. John’s Church, Richmond, 1775, after the House of Burgesses had been dissolved by the royal governor. An extract from this speech, as given in Wirt’s “Life of Henry,” follows. No faithfully exact copy of his speeches is preserved, for he never wrote them out, and his eloquence was so overmastering that no one could listen and report at the same time. He takes his place among the great orators of the world.
WORKS.
Speeches, legal and political, (as they have been gathered from traditionary reports).
See his Life by Wirt, Tyler, and W. W. Henry, his grandson.
Remark on Slavery.
Slavery is detested. We feel its fatal effects. We deplore it with all the pity of humanity.
Not Bound by State Lines, (from the opening speech of the first Continental Congress, 1774.)
I am not a Virginian. I am an American.
If this be treason, (Speech in House of Burgesses, 1765.)
Cæsar had his Brutus—Charles the First, his Cromwell,—and George the Third—(“Treason!” cried the Speaker)—may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it.
THE FAMOUS REVOLUTION SPEECH, 1775.
(From Wirt’s Life of Henry.)
“Mr. President,” said he, “it is natural to 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 siren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this,” he asked, “the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Were we disposed to be of the number of those, who having eyes see not, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For his part, whatever anguish of spirit it might cost, he was willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and provide for it.”
“He had,” he said, “but one lamp by which his feet were guided; and that was the lamp of experience. He knew of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, he wished to know what there had been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen had been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which 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 anything 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 been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now 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 to the God of hosts, is all that is left us!”
“They tell us, sir,” continued Mr. Henry, “that we are weak—unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of liberty and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable—and let it come!! I repeat it, sir, let it come!!!
“It is in 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 sweeps 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,” cried he, with both his arms extended aloft, his brows knit, every feature marked with the resolute purpose of his soul, and his voice swelled to its boldest note of exclamation,—“give me liberty, or give me death!” See also under Wirt.
WILLIAM HENRY DRAYTON.
1742=1779.