Stories of Later American History

The Last French War had cost England so much that at its close she was heavily in debt.

"As England must now send to America a standing army of at least ten thousand men to protect the colonies against the Indians and other enemies," the King, George III, reasoned, "it is only fair that the colonists should pay a part of the cost of supporting it."

The English Parliament, being largely made up of the King's friends, was quite ready to carry out his wishes, and passed a law taxing the colonists. This law was called the Stamp Act. It provided that stamps--very much like our postage-stamps, but costing all the way from one cent to fifty dollars each--should be put upon all the newspapers and almanacs used by the colonies, and upon all such legal papers as wills, deeds, and the notes which men give promising to pay back borrowed money.

When news of this act reached the colonists they were angry. "It is unjust," they said. "Parliament is trying to make slaves of us by forcing us to pay money without our consent. The charters which the English King granted to our forefathers when they came to America make us free men just as much as if we were living in England.

"In England it is the law that no free man shall pay taxes unless they are levied by his representatives in Parliament. We have no one to speak for us in Parliament, and so we will not pay any taxes which Parliament votes. The only taxes we will pay are those voted by our representatives in our own colonial assemblies."

They were all the more ready to take this stand because for many years they had bitterly disliked other English laws which were unfair to them. One of these forbade selling their products to any country but England. And, of course, if they could sell to no one else, they would have to sell for what the English merchants chose to pay.

Another law said that the colonists should buy the goods they needed from no other country than England, and that these goods should be brought over in English vessels. So in buying as well as in selling they were at the mercy of the English merchants and the English ship owners, who could set their own prices.

But even more unjust seemed the law forbidding the manufacture in America of anything which was manufactured in England. For instance, iron from American mines had to be sent to England to be made into useful articles, and then brought back over the sea in English vessels and sold to the colonists by English merchants at their own price.

Do you wonder that the colonists felt that England was taking an unfair advantage? You need not be told that these laws were strongly opposed. In fact, the colonists, thinking them unjust, did not hesitate to break them. Some, in spite of the laws, shipped their products to other countries and smuggled the goods they received in exchange; and some dared make articles of iron, wool, or other raw material, both for their own use and to sell to others.

"We will not be used as tools for England to make out of us all the profit she possibly can," they declared. "We are not slaves but free-born Englishmen, and we refuse to obey laws which shackle us and rob us of our rights."

So when to these harsh trade laws the Stamp Act was added, great indignation was aroused. Among those most earnest in opposing the act was Patrick Henry.

Let us take a look at the early life of this powerful man. He was born in 1736, in Hanover County, Virginia. His father was an able lawyer, and his mother belonged to a fine old Welsh family.

But Patrick, as a boy, took little interest in anything that seemed to his older friends worth while. He did not like to study nor to work on his father's farm. His delight was to wander through the woods, gun in hand, hunting for game, or to sit on the bank of some stream fishing by the hour. When not enjoying himself out-of-doors he might be heard playing his violin.

Of course the neighbors said, "A boy so idle and shiftless will never amount to anything," and his parents did not know what to do with him. They put him, when fifteen years old, as clerk into a little country store. Here he remained for a year, and then opened a store of his own. But he was still too lazy to attend to business, and soon failed.

When he was only eighteen years old, he married. The parents of the young couple, anxious that they should do well, gave them a small farm and a few slaves. But it was the same old story. The young farmer would not take the trouble to look after his affairs, and let things drift. So before long the farm had to be sold to pay debts. Once more Patrick turned to storekeeping, but after a few years he failed again.

He was now twenty-three years old, with no settled occupation, and with a wife and family to support. No doubt he seemed to his friends a ne'er-do-well.

About this time he decided to become a lawyer. He borrowed some law-books, and after studying for six months, he applied for permission to practise law. Although he passed but a poor examination, he at last was started on the right road.

He succeeded well in his law practice, and in a few years had so much business that people in his part of Virginia began to take notice of him. In 1765, soon after the Stamp Act was passed by the British Parliament, he was elected a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, a body not unlike our State Legislature.

PATRICK HENRY'S FIERY SPEECH AGAINST THE STAMP ACT

History gives us a vivid picture of the young lawyer at this time as he rides on horseback along the country road toward Williamsburg, then the capital of Virginia. He is wearing a faded coat, leather knee-breeches, and yarn stockings, and carries his law papers in his saddle-bag. Although but twenty-nine, his tall, thin figure stoops as if bent with age. He does not look the important man he is soon to become.

When he reaches the little town of Williamsburg, he finds great excitement. Men gather in small groups on the street, talking in anxious tones. Serious questions are being discussed: "What shall we do about the Stamp Act?" they say. "Shall we submit and say nothing? Shall we send a petition to King George asking him for justice? Shall we beg Parliament to repeal the act, or shall we take a bold stand and declare that we will not obey it?"

Not only on the street, but also in the House of Burgesses was great excitement. Most of the members were wealthy planters who lived on great estates. So much weight and dignity had they that the affairs of the colony were largely under their control. Most of them were loyal to the "mother country," as they liked to call England, and they wished to obey the English laws as long as these were just.

So they counselled: "Let us move slowly. Let nothing be done in a passion. Let us petition the King to modify the laws which appear to us unjust, and then, if he will not listen, it will be time to refuse to obey. We must not be rash."

Patrick Henry, the new member, listened earnestly. But he could not see things as these older men of affairs saw them. To him delay seemed dangerous. He was eager for prompt, decisive action. Tearing a blank leaf from a law-book, he hastily wrote some resolutions, and, rising to his feet, he read them to the assembly.

We can easily picture the scene. This plainly dressed rustic with his bent shoulders is in striking contrast to the prosperous plantation owners, with their powdered hair, ruffled shirts, knee-breeches, and silver shoe-buckles. They give but a listless attention as Henry begins in quiet tones to read his resolutions. "Who cares what this country fellow thinks?" is their attitude. "Who is he anyway? We never heard his voice before."

It is but natural that these men, whose judgment has been looked up to for years, should regard as an upstart this young, unknown member, who presumes to think his opinion worth listening to in a time of great crisis like this.

But while they sit in scornful wrath, the young orator's eyes begin to glow, his stooping figure becomes erect, and his voice rings out with fiery eloquence. "The General Assembly of Virginia, and only the General Assembly of Virginia," he exclaims, "has the right and the power of laying taxes upon the people of this colony."

These are stirring words, and they fall amid a hushed silence. Then the debate grows hot, as members rise to speak in opposition to his burning eloquence.

But our hero is more than a match for all the distinguished men who disagree with him. Like a torrent, his arguments pour forth and sweep all before them. The bold resolutions he presents are passed by the assembly.

It was a great triumph for the young orator. On that day Patrick Henry made his name. "Stick to us, old 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.