DECEMBER 1, 1763
HANOVER, VIRGINIA
MORNING
Patrick Henry and his father have a problem.
The attorney Henry, now twenty-seven and married, stands on a speaking platform in the redbrick courthouse, arguing for religious freedom. He is six feet tall, a slender 160 pounds, and plays the violin in his spare time. He has been a small-town country lawyer for three years, without any major success. Dark suit and a white shirt, long red hair pulled back. He knows the words he will say this morning could send him to prison.
But Patrick Henry does not care.
It seems like the whole town is taking this Thursday off to see the spectacle. The courtroom is so full the doors have been left open for those outside to hear. Across the street is a tavern owned by Henry’s father-in-law. The young lawyer and his wife, Sarah, live above the establishment.
Presiding over today’s proceedings is Colonel John Henry, Patrick’s father. He is a devout Anglican and leading member of Virginia’s landed aristocracy. Fifty-nine years old, white hair, walks with a cane. His alignment with the British Crown is complete. Surprisingly, in the colony of Virginia there is no legal conflict in having a father make decisions in a case concerning his son. It is thought that a true gentleman will set aside any biases while presiding over a court of law.
Essentially, the issue at hand today is the salary of Anglican ministers, who are also known as parsons. Tobacco is currency in Virginia, no different from paper money. Whether they like it or not, every landowner throughout the state is considered to be a member of the Church of England and is taxed to pay the salary of their local parson. Tax collectors ensure payment. The penalty for refusal is confiscation of property, and even jail.
In 1696, the Virginia legislature, known as the House of Burgesses, passes a strong law stating that parsons could be paid in promissory notes for tobacco. The problem is the crop goes up and down in price. So when harvests are poor the clergy is happy. But when there is an abundance of tobacco the parsons get far less.*
Now, the House of Burgesses votes to place a cap on how much the ministers could be paid. This amount is two pennies per pound of tobacco. The parsons are enraged and send a delegation to England to have the law overturned. Enlisting the help of the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishop of London, they successfully persuade the aging King George II to rule in their favor.
These legal actions are known as the “Parson’s Cause.”
Patrick Henry opposes the mandatory payments to clergy. He believes a religious tax of any kind is unjust. The Anglican Church, acting on behalf of the British Crown, is depriving colonists of their rights.
Patrick Henry’s father, the presiding judge, disagrees. After his son makes his case, John Henry rules in favor of the parsons—and the Crown.*
But the case is not done. Now, a Virginia jury has to decide exactly how much money the parsons are owed.
“A king and those he rules share a solemn compact,” Patrick Henry states in his closing arguments. “In exchange for their obedience, the King must rule in a way that brings happiness to his subjects.
“But gentlemen,” Henry continues, turning to the jury. “I submit that for a sovereign to disallow such a wholesome law as the Two-Penny Act in such a manner is a misrepresentation of rule and breaks the compact between a king and his subjects. It may even be called tyranny.”
Gasps fill the courtroom. Shocked cries of “treason.”
But Patrick Henry is not done. The courtroom is filled with more than twenty members of Anglican clergy. Henry calls out several by name, noting their wealth, fondness for good wine, fox hunting, and, in the case of one minister, ample girth.
“Do not be deceived, gentlemen of the jury. This is not an issue from a few pence per pound of tobacco. This is a case concerned with freedom. Freedom for Virginia to govern itself. Freedom to choose who shall minister to our spiritual needs. Freedom from tyranny, in whatever form it may take.… Unless you wish to fasten the chains of bondage around your own neck, you must make an example … of the rights of free men to make their own law.
“Award damages as you must. But send a message to tyrants by awarding only one penny in damages.”
The courtroom quiets as the jury retires to consider the arguments. They return just five minutes later.
“Have you reached a verdict?” Judge John Henry asks the foreman.
“Yes, we have,” comes the reply. “We find in favor of the plaintiff … and award damages in the amount of one penny.”
The parsons are furious. The jury decision nullifies the king’s veto of the Two Penny Act. This is a major defeat for the Anglican clergy and a successful challenge to the king’s authority. The packed courtroom cheers. Patrick Henry is lifted up and carried to the tavern on the shoulders of the jubilant crowd.
Rebellion is in the air.
It will be thirteen years until a group of radical colonists gather in Philadelphia to argue for and against total independence from England. But a precedent has just been set by a ruling against the king’s Anglican Church.
Word of the verdict quickly reaches London. Patrick Henry becomes a known subversive.
On the day Henry gives his Parson’s Cause speech, Thomas Jefferson is a college student in Williamsburg. He actually knows the lawyer: “My acquaintance with Mr. Henry commenced in the winter of 1759–60,” Jefferson will write.
“On my way to the college, I passed the Christmas holidays at Colonel [John] Dandridge’s in Hanover, to whom Mr. Henry was a near neighbor. During the festivity of the season, I met him in society every day, and we became well acquainted, although I was much his junior, being then in my seventeenth year, and he a married man.” *
The six-foot-two Jefferson likes Henry, who shares his love for playing the violin. The two men consider themselves best friends, despite their age difference. But while Patrick Henry is openly questioning the role of the Anglican Church in Virginia, Thomas Jefferson is still publicly loyal to the Crown. The college student attends Anglican services, pays taxes to the parsonage, and maintains friendships with a number of clergy. He has an eye on a career in politics, and church attendance is mandatory for membership in the Virginia General Assembly.
However, in the process of getting his college degree, Jefferson has been introduced to the Deist movement to which Benjamin Franklin has long adhered. The teachings have not altered his church attendance, but he is fascinated by metaphysics and the connection between theology and morality.
Unlike Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson is not ready to make his views public.
But that day will come.
All thirteen colonies now have religious controversies. Much of this is brought on by growing diversity. Massachusetts remains Puritan and Maryland is overwhelmingly Catholic, despite repression by the Anglican Church barring “Papists” from voting, holding public office, practicing law, worshipping in churches, or making converts.
Rhode Island accepts all religions, as founder Roger Williams envisioned—though Williams is known to criticize Quakers. English philosopher John Locke wrote the constitutions of North and South Carolina, with a strong focus on religious tolerance as well. * And despite being a Quaker, William Penn founded Pennsylvania with an eye toward freedom for all faiths.
But there are continuing problems with religious differences.
In New York City an alleged “Negro Plot” is uncovered. This is an attempt by Catholics to align with former slaves to burn down Manhattan. The growing city is more than 90 percent Protestant. To these people, the Catholic faith is deeply suspect after centuries of persecuting religious heretics—mostly Protestants. In a series of tribunals reminiscent of the witch trials, the suspected conspiracy in New York City leads to twice as many executions as in Salem. More than 150 Roman Catholics are arrested between March and August 1741. Under duress, most soon “confess” their guilt. Thirty-four Catholics and former slaves are hanged. Eighty more are banished from New York for life.
In Plymouth, anti-Catholic fervor is also a reality. Since 1623, on November 5, gangs of sailors and working-class men have celebrated “Pope Night.” Hundreds turn out for a night of drinking and fighting as the pope is burned in effigy. In 1764, a carriage transporting the pope’s effigy to the burning site runs over a young boy, crushing his skull.
Also in 1764, shortly after Patrick Henry’s Parson’s Cause victory, Presbyterians in the Pennsylvania town of Paxton rebel against Quaker authorities for not protecting them against Indian attacks. In a massacre designed to taunt the nonviolent Quakers, Scotch-Irish settlers kill twenty Native Americans.
In Virginia, religious conflict grows worse. One sheriff ends a Sunday service by pulling the Baptist minister from his pulpit. The lawman then drags the pastor outside, where he pummels him and delivers twenty lashes with a horsewhip.
At the Mill Swamp Baptist Church in what is today the Portsmouth, Virginia, area, a gang of pro-Anglicans breaks into a service and drags two church leaders to the nearby Nansemond River. In a mockery of the Baptist practice of submersion in water, the ministers are dunked in the swampy muck almost to the point of drowning.
Strangely, the one religious group persecuted more than any other in Europe is left alone in America. By the 1770s, Jewish colonists will number between two thousand and three thousand out of a population of three million. First arriving in what will become known as New York City in 1654, when it was still known as New Amsterdam, Jews have quietly migrated throughout the colonies.
However, despite synagogues in Charlotte, Newport, Savannah, Philadelphia, and New York, Jews are not allowed the same rights as Christians to publicly observe their faith. In fact, in New England, those practicing the Hebrew faith are not welcome at all.
In Salem, once home to all things Puritan, the city has undergone a remarkable change. There is a new god: prosperity. The city is now dependent on the sea, not farming, for its income. The thriving port has a population of just less than six thousand. Ships from around the world dock in Salem, unloading their cargo on long, busy wharves. Fishing boats bring back holds filled with cod caught off Newfoundland’s Grand Banks. Seaside taverns fill daily with sailors speaking in their native Portuguese, various African dialects, Caribbean, and British accents. The Salem Marine Society, founded by sea captains, is a powerful group caring for aging sailors and their families. There’s a new library. A newspaper. Homes of former “witch hunters” are being torn down. The Puritan faith no longer reigns supreme, the three Congregational churches now joined by Quakers and Anglicans. Salem is not looking backward at witches but onward to a wealthy future.
Yet the Devil has not forgotten about Salem.
In England, the new king, George III, doesn’t care very much about what’s going on in the colonies. His concerns are more immediate: the Crown is going broke, and George needs money to fight a series of European conflicts.
The American colonies are the perfect place to get it.
The cost of maintaining ten thousand British troops to defend American soil is ₤225,000 per year.* George has no choice but to keep those soldiers on the payroll, even after the French and Indian War is over. Native American attacks on colonists are common, and pirates roam the East Coast.
The king has never been outside England. He was born in London and is preparing to move his family into new lodgings known as Buckingham House. George doesn’t even know the names of the colonies. There are “Sugar Colonies,” “Rice Colonies,” and “Tobacco Ones.” Massachusetts, to George, is a place “North of Tobacco.”
In his ignorance, the king proposes a small tax for each colonist. This seems fair; he is protecting them.
However, many colonists don’t see it that way. They have no love for or loyalty to George.
Which bothers him not at all.
He is coming hard for American money.
And that will change the world.