Lion of Liberty Read Online Free Page A

And some of her mother’s too,
And two of the finest horses he has in his stable
For he had ten and thirty and two.
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    Then she jumped on the noble brown,
And he on the dappled gray,
And they rode till they came to the side of the sea,
Two long hours before it was day.

“Let me help you down, my Pretty Polly;
Let me help you down,” said he.
“For it’s six king’s daughters I have drowned here,
And the seventh you shall be.”
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    â€œNow strip yourself, my Pretty Polly; Now strip yourself,” said he. “Your clothing is too fine and over-costly To rot in the sand of the sea.”
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    â€œYou turn your back to the leaves of the trees,
And your face to the sand of the sea;
’Tis a pity such a false-hearted man as you
A naked woman should see.”
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    He turned his back to the leaves of the trees,
And his face to the sand of the sea;
And with all the strength Pretty Polly had
She pushed him into the sea . ... 12
    Between the laughter, singing, and dancing, Patrick Henry listened intently to the legal arguments in the tavern and attended trials at the courthouse when he could. As his interest peaked, he bought copies of a Digest of Virginia Acts and Sir Edward Coke’s First Part of the Institutes of the Lawes of England, or, A Commentarie upon Littleton . 13 Using a fragmented grasp of the law, he debated lawyers in the tavern and practiced a crude but entertaining form of law, offering free legal counsel for every drink his client bought and revealing a spell-binding gift for “talking a long string of learning.” Warned that practicing without a license carried the risk of personal liability—and even a musket ball from a disgruntled client—he went to the colonial capital to get a license.
    On April 1, 1760, Patrick Henry arrived in Williamsburg for oral examinations, each to be administered by a renowned legal scholar. In contrast to the impeccably tailored, bewigged examiners, Henry appeared in
drab homespun—his mountain drawl all but unintelligible as he spoke of his country learning, which he feared was scarcely up to Williamsburg standards.
    Truth was, Henry knew next to nothing about the law, but he needed to pass only two of four examinations to obtain a license. The first examiner, law professor George Wythe, refused to receive the ill-dressed young man at first, but relented—as did the second, the illustrious attorney Robert Carter Nicholas—after Henry made a dramatic plea defending his right to be heard. Even then, he resisted arbitrary rule by authorities. Henry entertained both Wythe and Nicholas with dramatic gestures and effusive praise for the “righteousness of the law,” the “natural rights of man,” and “the blessings which a gracious God hath bestowed upon us” in Virginia. He had heard the phrases in his father’s courtroom, his father-in-law’s tavern, and his uncle’s church, and he assumed they were relevant to the law. 14 He spoke of honest, hard-working farmers in Virginia’s hill country, beset by savage Indians and vicious squatters. He talked of scalpings, murders, and cries of orphaned children—and the need for lawyers to defend their interests. “The music of his voice” and “natural elegance of his style and manner” all but transfixed Nicholas, and, after eliciting Henry’s promise to continue studying the law, he signed the young man’s license.
    Deciding to obtain a third, but unnecessary signature, Henry foolishly chose to challenge Williamsburg’s legal establishment by approaching Attorney General John Randolph, who boasted the best legal training and legal mind in the colony. Randolph was affronted by Henry’s farm clothes and set about humiliating the arrogant farm boy with an examination that “continued for several hours,” according to one of Henry’s friends, “interrogating him,