"After it was known," said he, "that the Stamp Act was passed, some resolves of the House of Burgesses in Virginia, denying the right of Parliament to tax the colonies, made their appearance. We read them with wonder; they savored of independence; they flattered the human passions; the reasoning was specious; we wished it conclusive. The transition to believing it so was easy; and we, and almost all America, followed their example, in resolving that Parliament had no such right."[82] All these facts, and many more that might be produced, seem to point to the Virginia resolutions of 1765 as having come at a great primary crisis of the Revolution,--a crisis of mental confusion and hesitation,--and as having then uttered, with trumpet voice, the very word that was fitted to the hour, and that gave to men's minds clearness of vision, and to their hearts a settled purpose. It must have been in the light of such facts as these that Patrick Henry, in his old age, reviewing his own wonderful career, determined to make a sort of testamentary statement concerning his relation to that single transaction,--so vitally connected with the greatest epoch in American history. Among the papers left by him at his death was one significantly placed by the side of his will, carefully sealed, and bearing this superscription: "Inclosed are the resolutions of the Virginia Assembly in 1765, concerning the Stamp Act. Let my executors open this paper." On opening the document, his executors found on one side of the sheet the first five resolutions in the famous series introduced by him; and on the other side, these weighty words:--