Patrick Henry was an early friend and companion of Jefferson. He was
a jovial young fellow noted for mimicry, practical jokes, fiddling and
dancing. Jefferson's holidays were sometimes spent with Henry, and
the two together would go off on hunting excursions of which each was
passionately fond. Both were swift of foot and sound of wind.
Deer, turkey, foxes and other game were eagerly pursued. Jefferson
looked upon Patrick Henry as the moving spirit of all the fun of the
younger circle, and had not the faintest idea of the wonderful talents
that lay latent in his companion's mind.
And, Henry too, did not see in the slender, freckled, sandy-haired
Jefferson, the coming man who was to be united with him in some of the
most stirring and important events in American history.
Jefferson did not realize that this rustic youngster, careless of dress,
and apparently thoughtless in manner, and sometimes, to all appearance,
so unconcerned that he was taken by some to be an idiot, was to be the
flaming tongue of a coming Revolution. Henry did not dream that this
fiddling boy, Jefferson, was to be the potent pen of a Declaration which
was to emancipate a hemisphere.
One day in 1760, just after Jefferson had entered upon his college
studies at Williamsburg, Henry came to his room to tell him, that since
their parting of a few months before, after the Christmas holidays,
he had studied law, and had come to Williamsburg to get a license to
practice. The fact was he had studied law but six weeks, and yet felt
himself able to pass the examination. The examination was conducted by
four examiners. Three of them signed the license. The fourth, George
Wythe, refused his signature. But Henry was now duly admitted to the
bar. He went back, however, to assist his father-in-law, Mr. Shelton,
in tending his tavern, and for four years, practicing occasionally, he
waited his time.
In May, 1765, Henry was elected to the House of Burgesses which met at
Williamsburg. While in attendance as a member Henry was the guest of
young Jefferson. Henry presented a rustic appearance. His dress was
coarse and worn. His fame had not become fully known at Williamsburg,
"and he moved about the streets unrecognized though not unmarked. The
very oddity of his appearance provoked comment."
In the Assembly were some of the most brilliant and distinguished men
in the Colony. Among them were Peyton Randolph, George Wythe, John
Robinson, Richard Henry Lee, and Edmund Pendleton.
Dignified manners prevailed among the members. An elaborate and formal
courtesy characterized them in their proceedings. They were polished and
aristocratic men, not specially interested in the welfare of the
common people. They were strongly desirous of perpetuating the class
distinctions observed in Virginia society. A very marked contrast was
apparent between them and the tall, gaunt, coarse-attired, unpolished
member from Louisa.
Not being personally known to the majority of the House, little notice
was taken of him, and no expectations of any particular influence to be
exercised by him upon its deliberations were expected. When the news
of the passage of the Stamp Act reached the assembly, amazement and
indignation were felt by the Royalist leaders, at the folly of the
English ministry. But there seemed no way before them but submission to
the Imperial decree. But Henry saw that the hour had come for meeting
the issue between the King and the Colonies.
He rose in his seat and offered his famous Five Resolutions, which in
substance declared that Englishmen living in America had all the rights
of Englishmen living in England, and that all attempts to impose taxes
upon them without the consent of their own representatives, had "a
manifest tendency to destroy British as well as American freedom."
These resolutions provoked an animated and exciting debate. There is a
strong probability that Jefferson knew the intentions of Henry, for he
was present on that ever memorable occasion in the House.
No provision was made in the Assembly chamber for spectators. There was
no gallery from which they could look down upon the contestants. In
the doorway between the lobby and the chamber Jefferson took his stand,
intently watching Henry's attitude and actions.
In a hesitating way, stammering in his utterances, he began reading
his Resolutions. Then followed the opening sentences of the magnificent
oration of this "Demosthenes of the woods," as Byron termed him.
No promise did they give of what was to follow. Very soon the
transformation came. Jefferson saw him draw himself to his full height
and sweep with a conqueror's gaze the entire audience before and about
him.
No impediment now; no inarticulate utterances now. With a voice rich and
full, and musical, he poured out his impassioned plea for the liberties
of the people. Then soaring to one of his boldest flights, he cried out
in electric tones:
"Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George
the Third -----." The Speaker sprang to his feet, crying, "Treason!
treason!" The whole assembly was in an uproar, shouting with the
Speaker, "Treason! treason!" Not only the royalists, but others who were
thoroughly alarmed by the orator's audacious words, joined in the
cry. But never for a moment did Henry flinch. Fixing his eye upon the
Speaker, and throwing his arm forward from his dilating form, as though
to hurl the words with the power of a thunderbolt, he added in a tone
none but he himself could command, "May profit by their example." Then,
with a defiant look around the room, he said, "If this be treason, make
the most of it."
Fifty-nine years afterwards Jefferson continued to speak of that great
occasion with unabated enthusiasm. He narrated anew the stirring scenes
when the shouts of; "treason, treason," echoed through the Hall.
In his record of the debate which followed the speech of Henry he
described it as "most bloody." The arguments against the resolutions,
he said were swept away by the "torrents of sublime eloquence" from the
lips of Patrick Henry. With breathless interest, Jefferson, standing in
the doorway, watched the taking of the vote on the last resolution. It
was upon this resolution that the battle had been waged the hottest.
It was carried by a majority of a single vote. When the result was
announced, Peyton Randolph, the King's Attorney General, brushed by
Jefferson, in going out of the House, exclaiming bitterly with an oath
as he went, "I would have given five hundred guineas for a single vote."
The next day, in the absence of the mighty orator, the timid Assembly
expunged the fifth resolution and modified the others. The Governor,
however, dissolved the House for daring to pass at all the resolutions.
But he could not dissolve the spirit of Henry nor the magical effect
of the resolutions which had been offered. By his intrepid action Henry
took the leadership of the Assembly out of the hands which hitherto had
controlled it.
The resolutions as originally passed were sent to Philadelphia. There
they were printed, and from that center of energetic action were widely
circulated throughout the Colonies. The heart of Samuel Adams and the
Boston patriots were filled with an unspeakable joy as they read them.
The drooping spirits of the people were revived and the doom of the
Stamp Act was sealed.