In our current age of bad manners, bombast, and bombers, Patrick Henry would seem like the ideal heartthrob. Sure, there is: the ranting revolutionary from the Virginia woods who yells at Tidewater’s respectable aristocracy, “If this is treason, make the most of it!” and “Give me freedom or give me death!” After all, didn’t he make the first mark of himself on the world by beating up in court a group of clerics from his own church, one of whom was his uncle, after whom he was named? Give them hell, Patrick! Now here is the colonel. Henry with his local militia marching on a gunpowder cache in Williamsburg defended by Colonial Governor Lord Dunmore and his British troops. Neck. Henry is determined to fight to the end, if necessary. Dunmore turns and runs, but who knew?

The Voice of the Revolution, willing to risk a live bullet in this confrontation, was obviously willing to “walk the walk” as well as “talk the talk.” Patrick Henry, a Rambo for all seasons? Despite the mythology, despite the stereotype that led Timothy McVeigh to seek a retroactive model in a biography of Henry while awaiting trial (TIME, August 14, 1995), when we examine Mr. Henry closely and carefully , we are certainly not going to find a confused rebel. But good guy, he considers adversary, good loser? There is no doubt that Patrick Henry was a man of unwavering principles. “The first thing on my mind is American liberty; the second thing is American union,” he said at the Virginia Convention on the Ratification of the Constitution in 1788. That pretty much sums up his lifelong political creed. Henry’s attitudes and methods of achieving these goals may have changed over time as he gained wisdom through experience, but not the goals themselves.

However, even in his admittedly more impetuous early years, we can discern a much more complex Patrick Henry than his defenders have been willing to present for fear of weakening the image of the incendiary brand. “I think he was the most humorous man I have ever known in society, and the greatest orator that ever lived,” recalled Thomas Jefferson in 1805. “He had a consummate knowledge of the human heart, which by directing the efforts of his eloquence enabled him to him to reach a degree of popularity with people in general never perhaps the same”. his considerable mental abilities. Therefore, he never hesitated to attack sin but, understanding human frailty, he was almost as willing to forgive, or at least be kind to the sinner. Even in Henry’s early youthful jeremiahs against the established church and government, the Case of the Cause of Parsons and the Stamp Act Speech, there are stories of his being regarded by his opponents. “I’ll be forced to say some harsh things about the clergy, and I’m not about to hurt his feelings,” reports Henry’s first biographer, William Wirt, advising his uncle, the Reverend. Patrick Henry, just before the start of the Parson’s Cause trial.

And there is the troubling story of the “French traveler,” who happened to be present at the Virginia House of Burgesses to witness Henry’s Stamp Act Speech. According to the foreigner’s perhaps imperfect understanding of the debate he had witnessed, the speaker offered to apologize if he had offended, but this version of what happened seems to differ from everyone else’s, including Jefferson’s. The 20th-century biographer of Henry, Robert Meade, is probably right: “Possibly Henry, after bordering on treason, made some conciliatory remarks. But the evidence is overwhelming that these remarks, if indeed they were made, were not a flimsy apology.” “. It was a time when gentlemen bowed courteously before even attempting to duel.” Fast-forward ten years to 1775, St. John’s Church, Richmond, where a convention of distinguished Virginians met to consider arming their colony against the British. Once again, the aristocrats of Tidewater are dragging their feet; they simply refuse to acknowledge the inevitability of the coming conflict. Patrick Henry is there, he will put them in their place. The Trumpet of Revolution is recognized by the chair and rises to speak: No man thinks better than I of the patriotism, as well as of the abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just gone to the house. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, Therefore, I hope that it will not be considered disrespectful to those gentlemen, if having, as I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I will express my feelings freely and without reservation. yes . . Than! Is this the way to begin the speech that ends with the immortal peroration: “Give me freedom or give me death!”?

Did the older and more mature Henry, twelve years after the Parsons Cause Case and approaching forty, believe that beginning his speech by politely acknowledging his opponents as valuable individuals would convince them of his thinking? Not likely. But on the other hand, what did he gain by personally attacking them for their views? “There was a trait in Mr. Henry, emanating from his good disposition and magnanimity, which gave him great credit and is universally admitted,” Justice Spencer Roane wrote in his memoir of his father-in-law. “He was extremely gracious to the youngsters in debate, and he was always ready to compliment even his opponents when he deserved it.” Henry was not only kind to his opponents in debate, he was also occasionally merciful, as the following story illustrates: Henry’s most famous case as a lawyer was the British Debts case, tried in the early 1790s. Henry argued successfully that the money Americans owed to English merchants before the Revolution was no longer owed due to the exigencies of the conflict. One of Henry’s opponents in the courtroom was a Mr. Ronald, who “was suspected of not being very fond of the American cause.” While attempting to make his case, Mr. Ronald made the unfortunate mistake of referring to the Commonwealth of Virginia as a “rogue colony,” a term that would still draw the ire of any loyal citizen of the Old Dominion even today.

Henry’s reaction to this insult is described by his biographer, William Wirt: At this word he turned his piercing eye on Mr. Ronald and scowled at him, with an expression of indignation and contempt that seemed almost to annihilate him. It was like lightning. Mr. Ronald cringed at the glare: and pale and breathless, he lowered his eyes, “seeming, says my informant, to be in search of an auger-hole, by which he might fall to the ground and escape sight forever.” mortal”. .” Mr. Henry perceived his suffering, and his usual kindness immediately returned to him. He gently raised his eyes to the yard, and slowly shaking his head, with a rueful expression, added: “I wish I had not heard: for though innocently he meant (and I am sure he was, from the character of the gentleman who mentioned it), yet the sound disgusts me, it is unpleasant.”

Mr. Ronald took a deep breath and looked up, and his generous adversary brushed the subject aside, never to take it up again. Patrick Henry opposed the ratification of the United States Constitution in its original form. In general, he opposed it for two reasons: he felt it called for too strong a central government, and the document did not originally contain a Bill of Rights. At the Virginia Convention on the Ratification of the Constitution, held in Richmond in 1788, the 52-year-old Henry argued long and eloquently to persuade his fellow Virginians to vote “no.” He lost. Although there was a promise of a future Bill of Rights, there was no guarantee. Was it time for another revolution? This is what Mr Henry said: I apologize to this House for taking more time than my share; and I thank you for the patience and courteous attention with which you have listened to me. If I am in the minority, I will have those painful sensations that arise from the conviction of being defeated in a good cause.

However, I will be a peaceful citizen! My head, my hand and my heart will be free to recover the lost freedom and constitutionally remove the defects of that system. I do not wish to go to violence, but I will wait in the hope that the spirit that prevailed in the revolution is not gone yet: nor is the cause of those who are attached to the revolution lost. Therefore, I will wait patiently, waiting to see the government changed, so that it is compatible with the safety, freedom and happiness of the people. Henry saw a Bill of Rights added to the Constitution three years later. Still, he never felt completely comfortable with the new government and turned down numerous offers to serve in it. In the late 1790s, he retired to Red Hill and watched developments from afar. To be sure, there were controversies, some very heated ones, particularly the alien and sedition laws. Early in 1799, at the urging of his former commander-in-chief, George Washington, Henry appeared at the Charlotte Courthouse as a candidate for the Virginia legislature. In his last public speech he addressed the issues of the day: If you ask me what to do, when a people feels intolerably oppressed, my answer is ready: Overthrow the government. But no, I beg you, take things that far without provocation.

Wait at least until an infringement of your rights has occurred and cannot be corrected otherwise; because if you ever go back to another change, you can say goodbye to representative government forever. Patrick Henry, “The Voice of the Revolution”, was elected but died in June 1799 before he could take office. George Washington, “The Sword of the Revolution”, died that same year. Thomas Jefferson, “The Pen of the Revolution”, lived another twenty-seven years. The reputations of Washington and Jefferson have remained brilliant and have even increased in the current century, more or less in line with the growth of the federal government, in which they played such an important part. Patrick Henry, who never held federal office, has in our time become “The Forgotten Patriot” or, at most, a seven-word sound bite.

Today, the few who still revere the “Forgotten Patriot” seem determined to remind us of the firebrand, but it may be that our current uncivil age needs the kind and gentle Patrick Henry more. Perhaps late 20th-century Americans would better serve their country by emulating his character rather than uttering his words without thinking. Patrick Henry was the first of the Founding Fathers to teach us the lesson of constitutionalism the hard way: by losing. He makes his case, votes, and if the vote is not in his favor, he seeks to make constitutional changes. Patrick Henry, “the man with the best humor in society”, “amiable … in debate”, “ready to congratulate his adversaries”, “dominated by a good cause” but “willing to remain a citizen peaceful”. The Voice of the Revolution at the end of his life became the law-abiding dissident. In doing so, he rendered his country a great and perhaps his most valuable service.