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WHEN We take up the newspaper of a morning, and find the first page filled with a closely-printed speech of some aspiring orator, who does not, perhaps, much interest us, we are very apt to lay the sheet aside and say there is nothing in it, indifferent to the fact that a hundred years hence it will be prized as a document of inestimable value. The appetite for long speeches belongs to the past or to the future, and can only be aroused in the present day by events of vital importance to the Commonwealth, and then only by men of the highest intellectual capacity. The newspaper editor has to a terrible extent superseded the orator, and makes a paragraph where of old our grandfathers made a speech. Every thing is brief and rapid, to suit the rail-road speed of the age. Oratory in its pure state-that is to say, the spontaneous utterance of noble thoughts and magnificent images as the symbolical representatives of coarser things, is almost unknown to us. If a man wants to make a long speech now, he toils at it in the closet, builds it on the most raking and logical model, rivets it with sharp-pointed facts, and takes good care not to launch it on the stormy waters of debate before it is thoroughly sound and sea

worthy. The newspapers print it at length in one column, and condense it in another, so that, like Webster's Dictionary, the student can either take it in bulk or in miniature. No arrangement could be more happy. The time-pressed merchant gets the points from the editorial summary, and the historian gets the substance in the verbatim report. What if a few people do go to sleep over the latter? Is there any thing more comfortable than being talked to sleep?

It was far different in the days of Patrick Henry—a great man, whose marvelous powers of oratory were exercised at a time when men's eyes gazed earnestly into the inspired face of the orator, and men's thirsty souls panted for words of patriotism. There were no newspapers then to cool down the enthusiasm of the oration by after-breakfast comments on it. People came from afar to hear it fresh from the speaker's lip, for that was the only fount at which it could be quaffed in its purity. They crowded the court-house in anticipation of the event. They endured the pressure of contending thousands, and considered themselves fortunate if they were rewarded with a glimpse of the orator, and caught a few of his glowing sentences. They were dragged out fainting to the open air, and were again newly stifled by eager crowds pressing around them to hear by repetition what could not otherwise be enjoyed. Every auditor, in fact, was a sort of newspaper, and circulated his report to the best of his ability. He was at once a man of influence and consideration. People stopped him at the street corner with courtesies to betray him into copiousness. If he came from the country, his return home was little else than a triumphal progress attended with all sorts of ovations and hospitalities.

And the orator, what was he? In the days of Patrick Henry he was the power. There were but few newspapers, and they were dry and unreliable. The orator supplied their place with liberality and the inspiration of life. His opinions, if they were not always in advance of the day, were tinctured, at least, with all the day could supply. He inculcated them with the earnestness of a prophet, and his personal influence was commensurate with the impression he was capable of making on his hearers. It can scarcely be estimated now. The many-tinted rays of individual opinion which are brought to bear on public topics, resulting from the habit of critical scrutiny and suspicion, detract from the indi

vidual light which the modern orator can throw on them, no matter how brightly it may shine. DEMOSTHENES and CICERO would find it difficult to preserve their reputation-at all events, their popularity, in these times. The newspapers would handle them with the dreadful weapons of common sense, and would batter their tropes and figures about their heads. But their speeches would be reported with marvelous accuracy, and the future historian could turn to them with the certainty of finding ample material for forming his own judgment of the merits of earlier criticism.

It is the absence of this invaluable record that we have most to regret in treating the life of Patrick Henry. We know by the influence he had on his times that he was one of the most extraordinary orators the world has ever produced, but unfortunately this knowledge is based entirely on tradition. We can not furnish an adequate specimen of his matchless eloquence. The few imperfect reports of his speeches that have been handed down to us are evidently wretched reflexes of the burning language the orator employed. We shall endeavor to use these to the best advantage, but the reader must never forget that they are entirely inadequate to the reputation of Patrick Henry. We can only judge of the eminence of that great man by the mighty influence he exercised on, and the concurrent testimony of his contemporaries. Jefferson, whose opinion is sufficient to endorse every tradition, says that "he was the greatest orator that ever lived," and "the person who, beyond all question, gave the first impulse to the movement which terminated in the Revolution;" sufficient, in all reason, to interest the American reader in the biography we are about to write.

PATRICK HENRY was the second son of John and Sarah Henry, and one of a family of nine children. He was born on the 29th of May, 1736, at the family seat called Studley, in Hanover County, Virginia. His father, John Henry, was a native of Aberdeen, Scotland, and emigrated to Virginia about the year 1730. He was followed, some years after, by his brother Patrick, a clergyman of the Church of England. Both brothers were remarkable for their loyalty to the king and his church. John Henry married the widow of Colonel Syme, a native of Hanover County, and daughter of the family of Winston, a lady remarkable for the ease and brilliancy of her conversational powers. Shortly after

Patrick Henry's birth the family removed to another seat in the same county, then called Mount Brilliant, now The Retreat. His parents were by no means wealthy, but they were comfortably situated, and by the exercise of economy could make both ends meet in a genteel way. They moved in the best society, and were on intimate terms with all the big guns of the colony. Patrick was sent to an "Oldfield" school, to keep him out of mischief, until he was ten years of age, and then, having acquired the elements of learning, was taken home to prosecute his studies under the care of his father. It was with the greatest difficulty that the rudiments of the Latin tongue were implanted in his mind, and with still greater difficulty that he mastered the crooked characters of the Greek alphabet, beyond which he never proceeded. He was a very idle scholar, and never put his heart in his studies. They were tasks to him in the severest sense of the word, and he flew from them with delight. The only study for which he seems to have had some kind of liking was the mathematics, in which he is said to have made considerable progress. It is certain, however, that for five years he made but feeble effort to cultivate his mind. When fourteen years old (1750), he accompanied his mother in a carriage to hear Samuel Davies preach, whose eloquence, it is said, made a deep impression on his mind. This orator was celebrated for his patriotic sermons, and it is more than probable that he first kindled the fire and afforded the model of Henry's elocution. Throughout his lifetime Henry declared that he always held Davies to be the greatest orator he had ever heard.

His personal appearance at this time is described as coarse, and his manners awkward, his dress neglected, and his faculties entirely obscured by habitual indolence. In mixed companies he contributed little or nothing to the conversation-a good sign, for it showed that he was modest. He preferred listening to the talk of others, and never failed to improve himself by it. He possessed, like all great men, a fine memory, and could easily recall what had been said by any speaker. One of his most favorite amusements was to analyze the characters of his friends, and observe in what respects they differed from each other. Patrick Henry's character at this time may be summed up in few words. He was a modest, observant man, fond of seeing every thing and of hearing every thing, but bashful, and afraid of thrusting himself for

ward.

Unlike most young men, he was utterly indifferent to dress; a new coat had no charm in his eye; and at any time he would rather have had a new fish-line than a new pair of shoebuckles. He was nearly six feet high, spare and raw-boned, with a slight stoop in the shoulders. His complexion was dark and sallow, and his general expression grave, thoughtful, and penetrating.

Such was Patrick Henry at the age of fifteen. Finding that he was not likely to make much progress in literary or professional pursuits, his father undertook to establish him in trade. It was a very common mistake in those days, and even in these, to suppose that a less amount of shrewdness was needed for the conduct of a business than for the pursuit of a profession. After a year's drilling in the counting-room of a neighboring merchant, Patrick and his brother William opened a small store. It is not easy to imagine a firm with less practicability at its disposal. The confinement soon began to annoy Patrick, and he relieved it as much as possible by making the store the gathering-place of all the gossips in the town. The class of people who patronized him were careless and often unprincipled, depending more on their power of persuasion than on their reputation for credit. Neither Patrick nor his brother were good at making bargains—indeed, the latter seems to have been more helplessly indolent and incapable than the former. In about a year the concern failed. William retired at once, while Patrick was employed for two or three years afterward in bringing it to a close. Considering the short time it had run, it required a great deal of winding up. All the future orator had gained by his first adventure in commerce was a knowledge of the violin and flute, which (impressed with the necessity of amusing himself) he had studied in business hours— rather expensive accomplishments, one would think.

At the age of eighteen he married a Miss Skelton, the daughter of a poor but honest farmer in the neighborhood. Young Henry was now, by the joint assistance of his father and father-in-law, started in life again. Trade having failed, it was determined to try agriculture. He was furnished with a small farm, and also one or two slaves to assist him in cultivating it. But it was of His want of skill, his indolent habits, and his aversion to systematic labor of any kind, still pursued him. After an experiment of two years he sold off his farm at a sacrifice, and once

no use.

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