Stories of Later American History | Page 5

fellow, or we're gone," said one of the
plain people, giving him a slap on the shoulder as he passed out at the
close of the stormy session. The unpromising youth had suddenly
become a leader in the affairs of the colony.
Not only in Virginia, but also in other colonies, his fiery words acted
like magic in stirring up the people against the Stamp Act. He had
proved himself a bold leader, willing to risk any danger for the cause of
justice and freedom.
You would expect that in the colonies there would be strong and deep
feeling against the Stamp Act. But perhaps you will be surprised to
learn that even in England many leading men opposed it. They thought
that George III was making a great mistake in trying to tax the colonies
without their consent. William Pitt, a leader in the House of Commons,
made a great speech, in which he said: "I rejoice that America has
resisted." He went on to say that if the Americans had meekly
submitted, they would have acted like slaves.
Burke and Fox, other great statesmen, also befriended us. And the
English merchants and ship owners, who were losing heavily because
the Americans refused to buy any English goods as long as the Stamp
Act was in force, joined in begging Parliament that the act be repealed.
This was done the next year.
Other unjust measures followed, but before we take them up, let us
catch another glimpse of Patrick Henry, ten years after his great speech
at Williamsburg.
ANOTHER GREAT SPEECH BY PATRICK HENRY
The people of Virginia are again greatly aroused. King George has
caused Parliament to send English soldiers to Boston to force the
unruly people of Massachusetts to obey some of his commands, against
which they had rebelled. Virginia has stood by her sister colony, and

now the royal governor of Virginia, to punish her, has prevented the
House of Burgesses from meeting at Williamsburg.
But the Virginians are not so easily kept from doing their duty. With a
grim determination to defend their rights as free men, they elect some
of their leaders to act for them at this trying time.
These meet in Richmond at old St. John's Church, which is still
standing. Great is the excitement, and thoughtful people are very
serious, for the shadows of the war-cloud grow blacker hour by hour.
The Virginians have already begun to make ready to fight if they must.
But many still hope that all disagreements may yet be settled peaceably,
and therefore advise acting with caution.
[Illustration: St. John's Church, Richmond.]
Patrick Henry is not one of these. He believes that the time has come
when talking should give place to prompt, decisive action. The war is at
hand. It cannot be avoided. The colonists must fight or slavishly
submit.
So intense is his belief that he offers in this meeting a resolution that
Virginia should at once prepare to defend herself. Many of the leading
men stoutly oppose this resolution as rash and unwise.
At length Patrick Henry rises to his feet, his face pale, and his voice
trembling with deep emotion. Again we see the bent shoulders
straighten and the eyes flash. His voice rings out like a trumpet. As he
goes on with increasing power, men lean forward in breathless interest.
Listen to his ringing words:
"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, 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 the means which the God of nature hath placed in our
hands.... 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!
"... 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