"AFTER ALL, WE MUST FIGHT"
We now approach that brilliant passage in the life of Patrick Henry
when, in the presence of the second revolutionary convention of
Virginia, he proclaimed the futility of all further efforts for peace,
and the instant necessity of preparing for war.
The speech which he is said to have made on that occasion has been
committed to memory and declaimed by several generations of American
schoolboys, and is now perhaps familiarly known to a larger number of
the American people than any other considerable bit of secular prose
in our language. The old church at Richmond, in which he made this
marvelous speech, is in our time visited every year, as a patriotic
shrine, by thousands of pilgrims, who seek curiously the very spot
upon the floor where the orator is believed to have stood when he
uttered those words of flame. It is chiefly the tradition of that one
speech which to-day keeps alive, in millions of American homes, the
name of Patrick Henry, and which lifts him, in the popular faith,
almost to the rank of some mythical hero of romance.
In reality, that speech, and the resolutions in support of which that
speech was made, constituted Patrick Henry's individual declaration of
war against Great Britain. But the question is: To what extent, if
any, was he therein original, or even in advance of his
fellow-countrymen, and particularly of his associates in the Virginia
convention?
It is essential to a just understanding of the history of that crisis
in revolutionary thought, and it is of very high importance, likewise,
to the historic position of Patrick Henry, that no mistake be
committed here; especially that he be not made the victim of a
disastrous reaction from any overstatement[136] respecting the precise
nature and extent of the service then rendered by him to the cause of
the Revolution.
We need, therefore, to glance for a moment at the period between
October, 1774, and March, 1775, with the purpose of tracing therein
the more important tokens of the growth of the popular conviction that
a war with Great Britain had become inevitable, and was to be
immediately prepared for by the several colonies,--two propositions
which form the substance of all that Patrick Henry said on the great
occasion now before us.
As early as the 21st of October, 1774, the first Continental
Congress, after having suggested all possible methods for averting
war, made this solemn declaration to the people of the colonies: "We
think ourselves bound in duty to observe to you that the schemes
agitated against these colonies have been so conducted as to render it
prudent that you should extend your views to mournful events, and be
in all respects prepared for every emergency."[137] Just six days
later, John Dickinson, a most conservative and peace-loving member of
that Congress, wrote to an American friend in England: "I wish for
peace ardently; but must say, delightful as it is, it will come more
grateful by being unexpected. The first act of violence on the part of
administration in America, or the attempt to reinforce General Gage
this winter or next year, will put the whole continent in arms, from
Nova Scotia to Georgia."[138] On the following day, the same prudent
statesman wrote to another American friend, also in England: "The most
peaceful provinces are now animated; and a civil war is unavoidable,
unless there be a quick change of British measures."[139] On the 29th
of October, the eccentric Charles Lee, who was keenly watching the
symptoms of colonial discontent and resistance, wrote from
Philadelphia to an English nobleman: "Virginia, Rhode Island, and
Carolina are forming corps. Massachusetts Bay has long had a
sufficient number instructed to become instructive of the rest. Even
this Quakering province is following the example.... In short, unless
the banditti at Westminster speedily undo everything they have done,
their royal paymaster will hear of reviews and manoeuvres not quite so
entertaining as those he is presented with in Hyde Park and Wimbledon
Common."[140] On the 1st of November, a gentleman in Maryland wrote to
a kinsman in Glasgow: "The province of Virginia is raising one company
in every county.... This province has taken the hint, and has begun to
raise men in every county also; and to the northward they have large
bodies, capable of acquitting themselves with honor in the
field."[141] At about the same time, the General Assembly of
Connecticut ordered that every town should at once supply itself with
"double the quantity of powder, balls, and flints" that had been
hitherto required by law.[142] On the 5th of November, the officers of
the Virginia troops accompanying Lord Dunmore on his campaign against
the Indians held a meeting at Fort Gower, on the Ohio River, and
passed this resolution: "That we will exert every power within us for
the defence of American liberty, and for the support of her just
rights and privileges, not in any precipitate, riotous, or tumultuous
manner, but when regularly called forth by the unanimous voice of our
countrymen."[143] Not far from the same time, the people of Rhode
Island carried off to Providence from the batteries at Newport
forty-four pieces of cannon; and the governor frankly told the
commander of a British naval force near at hand that they had done
this in order to prevent these cannon from falling into his hands, and
with the purpose of using them against "any power that might offer to
molest the colony."[144] Early in December, the Provincial Convention
of Maryland recommended that all persons between sixteen and fifty
years of age should form themselves into military companies, and "be
in readiness to act on any emergency,"--with a sort of grim humor
prefacing their recommendation by this exquisite morsel of
argumentative irony:--
"_Resolved_ unanimously, that a well-regulated militia,
composed of the gentlemen freeholders and other freemen, is
the natural strength and only stable security of a free
government; and that such militia will relieve our mother
country from any expense in our protection and defence, will
obviate the pretence of a necessity for taxing us on that
account, and render it unnecessary to keep any standing
army--ever dangerous to liberty--in this province."[145]
The shrewdness of this courteous political thrust on the part of the
convention of Maryland seems to have been so heartily relished by
others that it was thenceforward used again and again by similar
conventions elsewhere; and in fact, for the next few months, these
sentences became almost the stereotyped formula by which revolutionary
assemblages justified the arming and drilling of the militia,--as,
for example, that of Newcastle County, Delaware,[146] on the 21st of
December; that of Fairfax County, Virginia,[147] on the 17th of
January, 1775; and that of Augusta County, Virginia,[148] on the 22d
of February.
In the mean time Lord Dunmore was not blind to all these military
preparations in Virginia; and so early as the 24th of December, 1774,
he had written to the Earl of Dartmouth: "Every county, besides, is
now arming a company of men, whom they call an independent company,
for the avowed purpose of protecting their committees, and to be
employed against government, if occasion require."[149] Moreover, this
alarming fact of military preparation, which Lord Dunmore had thus
reported concerning Virginia, could have been reported with equal
truth concerning nearly every other colony. In the early part of
January, 1775, the Assembly of Connecticut gave order that the entire
militia of that colony should be mustered every week.[150] In the
latter part of January, the provincial convention of Pennsylvania,
though representing a colony of Quakers, boldly proclaimed that, if
the administration "should determine by force to effect a submission
to the late arbitrary acts of the British Parliament," it would
"resist such force, and at every hazard ... defend the rights and
liberties of America."[151] On the 15th of February, the Provincial
Congress of Massachusetts urged the people to "spare neither time,
pains, nor expense, at so critical a juncture, in perfecting
themselves forthwith in military discipline."[152]
When, therefore, so late as Monday, the 20th of March, 1775, the
second revolutionary convention of Virginia assembled at Richmond, its
members were well aware that one of the chief measures to come before
them for consideration must be that of recognizing the local military
preparations among their own constituents, and of placing them all
under some common organization and control. Accordingly, on Thursday,
the 23d of March, after three days had been given to necessary
preliminary subjects, the inevitable subject of military preparations
was reached. Then it was that Patrick Henry took the floor and moved
the adoption of the following resolutions, supporting his motion,
undoubtedly, with a speech:--
"_Resolved_, That a well-regulated militia, composed of
gentlemen and yeomen, is the natural strength and only
security of a free government; that such a militia in this
colony would forever render it unnecessary for the mother
country to keep among us for the purpose of our defence any
standing army of mercenary forces, always subversive of the
quiet and dangerous to the liberties of the people, and
would obviate the pretext of taxing us for their support.
"_Resolved_, That the establishment of such a militia is at
this time peculiarly necessary, by the state of our laws for
the protection and defence of the country, some of which
have already expired, and others will shortly do so; and
that the known remissness of government in calling us
together in a legislative capacity, renders it too insecure,
in this time of danger and distress, to rely that
opportunity will be given of renewing them in general
assembly, or making any provision to secure our inestimable
rights and liberties from those further violations with
which they are threatened.
"_Resolved, therefore_, That this colony be immediately put
into a posture of defence; and that ... be a committee to
prepare a plan for the embodying, arming, and disciplining
such a number of men as may be sufficient for that
purpose."[153]
No one who reads these resolutions in the light of the facts just
given, can find in them anything by which to account for the
opposition which they are known to have met with in that assemblage.
For that assemblage, it must be remembered, was not the Virginia
legislature: it was a mere convention, and a revolutionary convention
at that, gathered in spite of the objections of Lord Dunmore,
representing simply the deliberate purpose of those Virginians who
meant not finally to submit to unjust laws; some of its members,
likewise, being under express instructions from their constituents to
take measures for the immediate and adequate military organization of
the colony. Not a man, probably, was sent to that convention, not a
man surely would have gone to it, who was not in substantial sympathy
with the prevailing revolutionary spirit.
Of course, even they who were in sympathy with that spirit might have
objected to Patrick Henry's resolutions, had those resolutions been
marked by any startling novelty in doctrine, or by anything extreme or
violent in expression. But, plainly, they were neither extreme nor
violent; they were not even novel. They contained nothing essential
which had not been approved, in almost the same words, more than three
months before, by similar conventions in Maryland and in Delaware;
which had not been approved, in almost the same words, many weeks
before, by county conventions in Virginia,--in one instance, by a
county convention presided over by Washington himself; which had not
been approved, in other language, either weeks or months before, by
Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and other
colonies; which was not sanctioned by the plainest prudence on the
part of all persons who intended to make any further stand whatsoever
against the encroachments of Parliament. It is safe to say that no man
who had within him enough of the revolutionary spirit to have prompted
his attendance at a revolutionary convention could have objected to
any essential item in Patrick Henry's resolutions.
Why, then, were they objected to? Why was their immediate passage
resisted? The official journal of the convention throws no light upon
the question: it records merely the adoption of the resolutions, and
is entirely silent respecting any discussion that they may have
provoked. Thirty years afterward, however, St. George Tucker, who,
though not a member of this convention, had yet as a visitor watched
its proceedings that day, gave from memory some account of them; and
to him we are indebted for the names of the principal men who stood
out against Patrick Henry's motion. "This produced," he says, "an
animated debate, in which Colonel Richard Bland, Mr. Nicholas, the
treasurer, and I think Colonel Harrison, of Berkeley, and Mr.
Pendleton, were opposed to the resolution, as conceiving it to be
premature;"[154] all these men being prudent politicians, indeed, but
all fully committed to the cause of the Revolution.
At first, this testimony may seem to leave us as much in the dark as
before; and yet all who are familiar with the politics of Virginia at
that period will see in this cluster of names some clew to the secret
of their opposition. It was an opposition to Patrick Henry himself,
and as far as possible to any measure of which he should be the
leading champion. Yet even this is not enough. Whatever may have been
their private motives in resisting a measure advocated by Patrick
Henry, they must still have had some reason which they would be
willing to assign. St. George Tucker tells us that they conceived his
resolutions to be "premature." But in themselves his resolutions, so
far from being premature, were rather tardy; they lagged weeks and
even months behind many of the best counties in Virginia itself, as
well as behind those other colonies to which in political feeling
Virginia was always most nearly akin.
The only possible explanation of the case seems to be found, not in
the resolutions themselves, but in the special interpretation put upon
them by Patrick Henry in the speech which, according to parliamentary
usage, he seems to have made in moving their adoption. What was that
interpretation? In the true answer to that question, no doubt, lies
the secret of the resistance which his motion encountered. For, down
to that day, no public body in America, and no public man, had openly
spoken of a war with Great Britain in any more decisive way than as a
thing highly probable, indeed, but still not inevitable. At last
Patrick Henry spoke of it, and he wanted to induce the convention of
Virginia to speak of it, as a thing inevitable. Others had said, "The
war must come, and will come,--unless certain things are done."
Patrick Henry, brushing away every prefix or suffix of uncertainty,
every half-despairing "if," every fragile and pathetic "unless,"
exclaimed, in the hearing of all men: "Why talk of things being now
done which can avert the war? Such things will not be done. The war is
coming: it has come already." Accordingly, other conventions in the
colonies, in adopting similar resolutions, had merely announced the
probability of war. Patrick Henry would have this convention, by
adopting his resolutions, virtually declare war itself.
In this alone, it is apparent, consisted the real priority and
offensiveness of Patrick Henry's position as a revolutionary statesman
on the 23d of March, 1775. In this alone were his resolutions
"premature." The very men who opposed them because they were to be
understood as closing the door against the possibility of peace, would
have favored them had they only left that door open, or even ajar. But
Patrick Henry demanded of the people of Virginia that they should
treat all further talk of peace as mere prattle; that they should
seize the actual situation by a bold grasp of it in front; that,
looking upon the war as a fact, they should instantly proceed to get
ready for it. And therein, once more, in revolutionary ideas, was
Patrick Henry one full step in advance of his contemporaries. Therein,
once more, did he justify the reluctant praise of Jefferson, who was a
member of that convention, and who, nearly fifty years afterward, said
concerning Patrick Henry to a great statesman from Massachusetts:
"After all, it must be allowed that he was our leader in the measures
of the Revolution in Virginia, and in that respect more is due to him
than to any other person.... He left all of us far behind."[155]
Such, at any rate, we have a right to suppose, was the substantial
issue presented by the resolutions of Patrick Henry, and by his
introductory speech in support of them; and upon this issue the little
group of politicians--able and patriotic men, who always opposed his
leadership--then arrayed themselves against him, making the most,
doubtless, of everything favoring the possibility and the
desirableness of a peaceful adjustment of the great dispute. But their
opposition to him only produced the usual result,--of arousing him to
an effort which simply overpowered and scattered all further
resistance. It was in review of their whole quivering platoon of hopes
and fears, of doubts, cautions, and delays, that he then made the
speech which seems to have wrought astonishing effects upon those who
heard it, and which, though preserved in a most inadequate report, now
fills so great a space in the traditions of revolutionary eloquence:--
"'No man, Mr. President, thinks more highly than I do of the
patriotism, as well as the abilities, of the very honorable
gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different
men often see the same subject in different lights; and,
therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to
those gentlemen if, entertaining, as I do, opinions of a
character very opposite to theirs, I should speak forth my
sentiments freely, and without reserve. This is no time for
ceremony. The question before the house is one of awful
moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as
nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery. And in
proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the
freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can
hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil the great responsibility
which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my
opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offence, I
should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my
country, and of an act of disloyalty towards the majesty of
Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.
"'Mr. President, 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 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 which 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 to provide for it.
"'I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that
is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of
the future but by the past. And, judging by 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 have 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.'"
Up to this point in his address, the orator seems to have spoken with
great deliberation and self-restraint. St. George Tucker, who was
present, and who has left a written statement of his recollections
both of the speech and of the scene, says:--
"It was on that occasion that I first felt a full impression
of Mr. Henry's powers. In vain should I attempt to give any
idea of his speech. He was calm and collected; touched upon
the origin and progress of the dispute between Great Britain
and the colonies, the various conciliatory measures adopted
by the latter, and the uniformly increasing tone of violence
and arrogance on the part of the former."
Then follows, in Tucker's narrative, the passage included in the last
two paragraphs of the speech as given above, after which he adds:--
"Imagine to yourself this speech delivered with all the calm
dignity of Cato of Utica; imagine to yourself the Roman
senate assembled in the capitol when it was entered by the
profane Gauls, who at first were awed by their presence as
if they had entered an assembly of the gods; imagine that
you heard that Cato addressing such a senate; imagine that
you saw the handwriting on the wall of Belshazzar's palace;
imagine you heard a voice as from heaven uttering the words,
'We must fight!' as the doom of fate,--and you may have some
idea of the speaker, the assembly to whom he addressed
himself, and the auditory of which I was one."[156]
But, by a comparison of this testimony of St. George Tucker with that
of others who heard the speech, it is made evident that, as the orator
then advanced toward the conclusion and real climax of his argument,
he no longer maintained "the calm dignity of Cato of Utica," but that
his manner gradually deepened into an intensity of passion and a
dramatic power which were overwhelming. He thus continued:--
"'They tell us, sir, 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, give me liberty, or give me
death!'"
Of this tremendous speech there are in existence two traditional
descriptions, neither of which is inconsistent with the testimony
given by St. George Tucker. He, as a lawyer and a judge, seems to have
retained the impression of that portion of the speech which was the
more argumentative and unimpassioned: the two other reporters seem to
have remembered especially its later and more emotional passages. Our
first traditional description was obtained by Henry Stephens Randall
from a clergyman, who had it from an aged friend, also a clergyman,
who heard the speech itself:--
"Henry rose with an unearthly fire burning in his eye. He
commenced somewhat calmly, but the smothered excitement
began more and more to play upon his features and thrill in
the tones of his voice. The tendons of his neck stood out
white and rigid like whip-cords. His voice rose louder and
louder, until the walls of the building, and all within
them, seemed to shake and rock in its tremendous vibrations.
Finally, his pale face and glaring eye became terrible to
look upon. Men leaned forward in their seats, with their
heads strained forward, their faces pale, and their eyes
glaring like the speaker's. His last exclamation, 'Give me
liberty, or give me death!' was like the shout of the leader
which turns back the rout of battle. The old man from whom
this tradition was derived added that, 'when the orator sat
down, he himself felt sick with excitement. Every eye yet
gazed entranced on Henry. It seemed as if a word from him
would have led to any wild explosion of violence. Men looked
beside themselves.'"[157]
The second traditional description of the speech is here given from a
manuscript[158] of Edward Fontaine, who obtained it in 1834 from John
Roane, who himself heard the speech. Roane told Fontaine that the
orator's "voice, countenance, and gestures gave an irresistible force
to his words, which no description could make intelligible to one who
had never seen him, nor heard him speak;" but, in order to convey some
notion of the orator's manner, Roane described the delivery of the
closing sentences of the speech:--
"You remember, sir, the conclusion of the speech, so often
declaimed in various ways by school-boys,--'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 give me
death!' He gave each of these words a meaning which is not
conveyed by the reading or delivery of them in the ordinary
way. When he said, 'Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as
to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?' he
stood in the attitude of a condemned galley slave, loaded
with fetters, awaiting his doom. His form was bowed; his
wrists were crossed; his manacles were almost visible as he
stood like an embodiment of helplessness and agony. After a
solemn pause, he raised his eyes and chained hands towards
heaven, and prayed, in words and tones which thrilled every
heart, 'Forbid it, Almighty God!' He then turned towards the
timid loyalists of the House, who were quaking with terror
at the idea of the consequences of participating in
proceedings which would be visited with the penalties of
treason by the British crown; and he slowly bent his form
yet nearer to the earth, and said, 'I know not what course
others may take,' and he accompanied the words with his
hands still crossed, while he seemed to be weighed down with
additional chains. The man appeared transformed into an
oppressed, heart-broken, and hopeless felon. After
remaining in this posture of humiliation long enough to
impress the imagination with the condition of the colony
under the iron heel of military despotism, he arose proudly,
and exclaimed, 'but as for me,'--and the words hissed
through his clenched teeth, while his body was thrown back,
and every muscle and tendon was strained against the fetters
which bound him, and, with his countenance distorted by
agony and rage, he looked for a moment like Laocoon in a
death struggle with coiling serpents; then the loud, clear,
triumphant notes, 'Give me liberty,' electrified the
assembly. It was not a prayer, but a stern demand, which
would submit to no refusal or delay. The sound of his voice,
as he spoke these memorable words, was like that of a
Spartan paean on the field of Plataea; and, as each syllable
of the word 'liberty' echoed through the building, his
fetters were shivered; his arms were hurled apart; and the
links of his chains were scattered to the winds. When he
spoke the word 'liberty' with an emphasis never given it
before, his hands were open, and his arms elevated and
extended; his countenance was radiant; he stood erect and
defiant; while the sound of his voice and the sublimity of
his attitude made him appear a magnificent incarnation of
Freedom, and expressed all that can be acquired or enjoyed
by nations and individuals invincible and free. After a
momentary pause, only long enough to permit the echo of the
word 'liberty' to cease, he let his left hand fall powerless
to his side, and clenched his right hand firmly, as if
holding a dagger with the point aimed at his breast. He
stood like a Roman senator defying Caesar, while the
unconquerable spirit of Cato of Utica flashed from every
feature; and he closed the grand appeal with the solemn
words, 'or give me death!' which sounded with the awful
cadence of a hero's dirge, fearless of death, and victorious
in death; and he suited the action to the word by a blow
upon the left breast with the right hand, which seemed to
drive the dagger to the patriot's heart."[159]
Before passing from this celebrated speech, it is proper to say
something respecting the authenticity of the version of it which has
come down to us, and which is now so universally known in America. The
speech is given in these pages substantially as it was given by Wirt
in his "Life of Henry." Wirt himself does not mention whence he
obtained his version; and all efforts to discover that version as a
whole, in any writing prior to Wirt's book, have thus far been
unsuccessful. These facts have led even so genial a critic as Grigsby
to incline to the opinion that "much of the speech published by Wirt
is apocryphal."[160] It would, indeed, be an odd thing, and a source
of no little disturbance to many minds, if such should turn out to be
the case, and if we should have to conclude that an apocryphal speech
written by Wirt, and attributed by him to Patrick Henry fifteen years
after the great orator's death, had done more to perpetuate the renown
of Patrick Henry's oratory than had been done by any and all the words
actually spoken by the orator himself during his lifetime. On the
other hand, it should be said that Grigsby himself admits that "the
outline of the argument" and "some of its expressions" are undoubtedly
"authentic." That this is so is apparent, likewise, from the written
recollections of St. George Tucker, wherein the substance of the
speech is given, besides one entire passage in almost the exact
language of the version by Wirt. Finally, John Roane, in 1834, in his
conversation with Edward Fontaine, is said to have "verified the
correctness of the speech as it was written by Judge Tyler for Mr.
Wirt."[161] This, unfortunately, is the only intimation that has
anywhere been found attributing Wirt's version to the excellent
authority of Judge John Tyler. If the statement could be confirmed, it
would dispel every difficulty at once. But, even though the statement
should be set aside, enough would still remain to justify us in
thinking that Wirt's version of the famous speech by no means deserves
to be called "apocryphal," in any such sense as that word has when
applied, for example, to the speeches in Livy and in Thucydides, or in
Botta. In the first place, Wirt's version certainly gives the
substance of the speech as actually made by Patrick Henry on the
occasion named; and, for the form of it, Wirt seems to have gathered
testimony from all available living witnesses, and then, from such
sentences or snatches of sentences as these witnesses could remember,
as well as from his own conception of the orator's method of
expression, to have constructed the version which he has handed down
to us. Even in that case, it is probably far more accurate and
authentic than are most of the famous speeches attributed to public
characters before reporters' galleries were opened, and before the art
of reporting was brought to its present perfection.
Returning, now, from this long account of Patrick Henry's most
celebrated speech, to the assemblage in which it was made, it remains
to be mentioned that the resolutions, as offered by Patrick Henry,
were carried; and that the committee, called for by those resolutions,
to prepare a plan for "embodying, arming, and disciplining" the
militia,[162] was at once appointed. Of this committee Patrick Henry
was chairman; and with him were associated Richard Henry Lee,
Nicholas, Harrison, Riddick, Washington, Stephen, Lewis, Christian,
Pendleton, Jefferson, and Zane. On the following day, Friday, the 24th
of March, the committee brought in its report, which was laid over for
one day, and then, after some amendment, was unanimously adopted.
The convention did not close its labors until Monday, the 27th of
March. The contemporaneous estimate of Patrick Henry, not merely as a
leader in debate, but as a constitutional lawyer, and as a man of
affairs, may be partly gathered from the fact of his connection with
each of the two other important committees of this convention,--the
committee "to inquire whether his majesty may of right advance the
terms of granting lands in this colony,"[163] on which his associates
were the great lawyers, Bland, Jefferson, Nicholas, and Pendleton; and
the committee "to prepare a plan for the encouragement of arts and
manufactures in this colony,"[164] on which his associates were
Nicholas, Bland, Mercer, Pendleton, Cary, Carter of Stafford,
Harrison, Richard Henry Lee, Clapham, Washington, Holt, and Newton.
FOOTNOTES:
[136] For an example of such overstatement, see Wirt, 114-123. See,
also, the damaging comments thereon by Rives, _Life of Madison_, i.
63, 64.
[137] 4 _Am. Arch._ i. 928.
[138] 4 _Ibid._ i. 947.
[139] _Ibid._
[140] 4 _Am. Arch._ i. 949, 950.
[141] _Ibid._ i. 953.
[142] _Ibid._ 858.
[143] _Ibid._ i. 963.
[144] Hildreth, iii. 52.
[145] 4 _Am. Arch._ i. 1032.
[146] 4 _Am. Arch._ i. 1022.
[147] _Ibid._ i. 1145.
[148] _Ibid._ i. 1254.
[149] _Ibid._ i. 1062.
[150] _Ibid._ i. 1139.
[151] _Ibid._ i. 1171.
[152] 4 _Am. Arch._ i. 1340.
[153] 4 _Am. Arch._ ii. 167, 168.
[154] MS.
[155] Curtis, _Life of Webster_, i. 585.
[156] MS.
[157] Randall, _Life of Jefferson_, i. 101, 102.
[158] Now in the library of Cornell University.
[159] MS.
[160] _Va. Conv. of 1776_, 150, note.
[161] MS.
[162] 4 _Am. Arch._ ii. 168.
[163] 4 _Am. Arch._ ii. 1742.
[164] _Ibid._ 170.