The History of the United States from 1492 to 1910, Volume 1 by Julian Hawthorne

J >> Julian Hawthorne >> The History of the United States from 1492 to 1910, Volume 1

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CHAPTER THIRTEENTH

THE PASSING OF THE RUBICON

Issue was now joined between America and England. They faced each other
--the great, historic figure, and the stripling of a century--and knew
that the limit had been reached. The next move might be irrevocable.

"You must submit to the tax."--"I will not submit."

Englishmen, with some few eminent exceptions, believed that England was
in the right. If the word of Parliament was not law, what was? If the law
it made could be disregarded, what could stand? A colony was a child:
children must be kept in subjection. Colonies were planted for the benefit
and extension of commerce; if they were permitted to conduct their
commerce without regard to the mother country, their reason for existence
was gone. The protection of a colony was expensive: why should not the
protected one bear a part at least of the expense? If the mother country
allowed the colony to fix the amount it should pay, what guarantee could
she have that it would pay anything? Could mighty England assume toward
little America the attitude of a tradesman, humbly standing at the door
with a bill, asking whether it would be convenient to pay something on
account? If there were to be condescension, it should not come from
America. She clamored for justice; England would be just: but she must
first be obeyed. England might forgive the debt, but must insist upon
acknowledgment that the debt was due, and upon the right to collect it at
pleasure. As for the plea that taxation should postulate representation,
it would not bear examination. It might be true that Parliament was a
theoretically representative body; but, in fact, it was a gathering of the
men in England best qualified to govern, who were rather selected than
elected. Many of the commons held their seats by favor of the nobility;
the suffrage, as practiced, was a recognition that the people might have a
voice in the government of the country; but that voice was not to be a
deciding one. It was exercised only by a part of the people, and even
then, largely under advice or influence. Many important towns and
districts had no representatives. Americans were as well off as these
Englishmen; on what ground could they demand to be better off? They must
trust to the will of England to secure their advantage in securing her
own; to her wisdom, equity, and benevolence. Why should they complain of
the Navigation Acts? What more did they want than a market?--and that,
England afforded. Why should they feel aggrieved at the restriction on
their manufactures? England could manufacture articles better than they
could, and it was necessary to the well-being of her manufacturing classes
that they should be free from American competition. Did they object to the
measures England took to prevent smuggling and illicit dealing?--They had
only themselves to blame: was it not notorious that evasions and open
violations of the law had for years existed? Did they object to royal
governors?--What better expedient was there to keep the two countries in
touch with each other--to maintain that "representation" in England which
they craved?--whereas, were they to choose governors from among
themselves, they would soon drift away from sympathy with and
understanding of England. And why all this uproar about the stamp tax?
What easier, more equitable way could be devised to get the financial
tribute required without pressing hard on any one? If Americans would
object to that, they would object to anything; and they must either be
abandoned entirely to their own devices--which of course was out of the
question--or they must be compelled, if they would not do it voluntarily,
to accede to it. Compulsion meant force; force meant a resident English
army; and that army must be supported and accommodated by those for whose
regulation it was established.

Such was the attitude of men like Lord Chief-justice Mansfield, who spoke
on the subject in the House of Lords. He refused to recognize any
essential distinction between external and internal taxes; though, as Pitt
pointed out, the former was designed for the regulation of trade, and
whatever profit arose from it was incidental; while the latter was imposed
to raise revenue for the home government, and was, in effect, arbitrarily
appropriating the property of subjects without their consent asked or
obtained. Pitt disposed of the argument of virtual representation by
denying it point-blank; Americans were not in the same position with those
Englishmen who were not directly represented in Parliament; because the
latter were inhabitants of the kingdom, and could be, and were indirectly
represented in a hundred ways. But while opposing the right of Parliament
to rob America, he asserted in the strongest terms its right to govern
her. "The will of Parliament, properly signified, must forever keep the
colonies dependent upon the sovereign kingdom of Great Britain. If any
idea of renouncing allegiance has existed, it was but a momentary frenzy.
In a good cause, the force of this country can crush America to atoms. But
on this ground of the stamp act, I am one who will lift up my hands
against it. I rejoice that America has resisted. In such a cause, your
success would be hazardous. America, if she fell, would embrace the pillar
of the state, and pull down the constitution along with her."

The Lords passed the bill against a minority of five. In the Commons,
where Burke ardently spoke in favor of the tax, the majority was even
greater. "It was decided that irresponsible taxation was not a tyranny but
a vested right; that Parliament held legislative power, not as a
representative body but in absolute trust: that it was not and had never
been responsible to the people." This was the new Toryism, which was to
create a new opposition. The debate aroused a discussion of popular rights
in England itself, and the press began to advocate genuine representation.
Meanwhile, it looked ill for the colonies. But a law which is only
engrossed on parchment, and is not also founded in natural truth and
justice, has no binding power, even though it be supported by the army and
navy of England. Humanity was on the side of America, and made her small
numbers and physical weakness as strong as all that is good and right in
the world. All appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, there is
nothing real but right. Had America fought only for herself, she would
have failed.

The instances of mob violence in the colonies at this period were not to
be classed with lawless outbreaks in countries which have a government of
their own. The colonies were subjected to a government which they did not
elect or approve; and the management of their affairs consequently
reverted inevitably and rightly to the body of the people themselves. They
had no officers and no organization, but they knew what they wanted; and
having in view the slowness of inter-communication, and the differences in
the ideas and customs of the several colonies, the unanimity of their
action in the present juncture is surprising. When their congress met in
New York on the 7th of October, 1765, their debate was less as to
principles than as to the manner of their declaration and enforcement. The
watchword, "Join or die," had been started in September, and was taken up
all over the country. Union was strength, and on union all were resolved.
The mob had put a stop to the execution of the law; it now rested with the
congress to settle in what way and on what grounds the repeal of the law
should be demanded. Against the people and the congress were arrayed the
royal governors and other officials, and the troops. The former deluged
the home government with exhortations to be firm; the latter waited the
word to act, not without misgivings; for here were two million
inhabitants, a third or fourth part of whom might bear arms.

Should the congress base its liberties on charter rights, or on natural
justice and universal reason?--On the latter, said Gadsden of South
Carolina; and the rest acceded. "I wish," Gadsden had said, "that the
charters may not ensnare us at last by drawing different colonies to act
differently in this great cause. There ought to be no New England man, no
New Yorker, known on the continent, but all Americans." It was a great
truth to be enunciated at that time. There were statesmen less wise in
this country a hundred years later. The Duke of Choiseul, premier of
France, and one of the acutest ministers that ever lived, foresaw the
independence of America, and even so early began to take measures having
in view the attitude of France in that contingency.--In the congress, Otis
advocated repeal, not of the stamp act alone, but of all acts laying a
duty on trade; and it was finally agreed to mention the latter as
grievances. Trial by jury was stipulated for instead of admiralty
jurisdiction; taxes should be imposed only by colonial legislatures,
representation in Parliament being impracticable. One or two of the
delegates feared to sign the document embodying these views and demands;
whereupon Dyer of Connecticut observed that since disunion in these
matters was fatal, the remaining delegates ought to sign them; and this
was done, only Ruggles and Ogden, of Massachusetts and of New Jersey
respectively, declining. By this act the colonies became "a bundle of
sticks which could neither be bent nor broken." At the same time, Samuel
Adams addressed a letter to Governor Bernard of Massachusetts. "To suppose
a right in Parliament to tax subjects without their consent includes the
idea of a despotic power," said he. "The stamp act cancels the very
conditions upon which our ancestors, with toil and blood and at their sole
expense, settled this country. It tends to destroy that mutual confidence
and affection, as well as that equality, which ought to subsist among all
his majesty's subjects: and what is worst of all evils, if his majesty's
subjects are not to be governed according to the known and stated rules of
the constitution, their minds may in time become disaffected."

On the 1st of November, the day when the act was to go into effect,
Colden, governor of New York, "resolved to have the stamps distributed."
The army and navy professed themselves ready to support him. But the
population rose up in a body against it, with Isaac Sears as leader. "If
you fire on us, we'll hang you," they told Colden. Torchlight processions,
with the governor's effigy burned in a bonfire composed of his own
carriages, right under the guns of the fort in which he had taken refuge,
followed. Colden capitulated, and even gave up the stamps into the custody
of the people. Similar scenes were enacted in the other colonies. The
principle of "union and liberty" became daily more deeply rooted. If
England refused to repeal the act, "we will repeal it ourselves," declared
the colonists. John Adams said that the colonies were already discharged
from allegiance, because they were "out of the king's protection"
--protection and allegiance being reciprocal. The Sons of Liberty became a
recognized organization. The press printed an admonition to George III.,
brief but pithy: GREAT SIR, RETREAT, OR YOU ARE RUINED. Otis maintained
that the king, by mismanaging colonial affairs, had practically abdicated,
so far as they were concerned. Israel Putnam, being of an active turn,
rode through Connecticut to count noses, and reported that he could raise
a force of ten thousand men. Meanwhile the routine business of the country
went on with but slight modification, though according to the stamp act
nothing that was done without a stamp was good in law. But it appeared,
upon experiment, that if the law was in the people it could be dispensed
with on paper. And wherever you went, you found a population smilingly
clad in homespun.

Would England repeal the act? The House of Lords voted in favor of
enforcing it, February, 1766. In the Commons, General Howard declared that
if it were passed, rather than imbrue his hands in the blood of his
countrymen, he would sheathe his sword in his own body. The House divided
two to one against the repeal. The king said he was willing to modify, but
not to repeal it. On the 13th Franklin was summoned to the bar. He showed
why the colonies could not and would not pay the tax, and that, unless it
were repealed, their affection for England, and the commerce depending
thereon, would be lost. Would America pay a modified stamp duty?--he was
asked; and bravely replied, "No: never: they will never submit to it." But
could not a military force carry the act into effect?--"They cannot force
a man to take stamps who chooses to do without them," was the answer. He
added that the colonists thought it hard that a body in which they were
not represented should make a merit of giving what was not its own but
theirs. He affirmed a difference between internal and external taxation,
because the former could not be evaded, whereas articles of consumption,
on which the duty formed part of the price, could be dispensed with at
will. "But what if necessaries of life should be taxed?" asked Grenville,
thinking he had Franklin on the hip. But the American sage crushingly
replied, "I do not know a single article imported into the colonies but
what they can either do without it, or make it for themselves."

In the final debates, Pitt, called on to say whether, should total repeal
be granted, in compliance with American menaces of resistance, the
consequence would not be the overthrow of British authority in America,
gave his voice for repeal as a right. Grenville, on the other hand,
thought that America should learn that "prayers are not to be brought to
Caesar through riot and sedition." The vote for repeal, and against
modified enforcement, was two hundred and seventy-five to one hundred and
sixty-seven. The dissenting members of the Lords signed a protest,
because, should they assent to the repeal merely because it had passed the
lower house, "we in effect vote ourselves useless." This suggests the "Je
ne vois pas la necessite" of the French epigrammatist. The Lords took
themselves too seriously. Meanwhile, Bow bells were rung, Pitt was
cheered, and flags flew; the news was sent to America in fast packets, and
the rejoicing in the colonies was great. Prisoners for debt were set free,
there were illuminations and bonfires, and honor was paid to Pitt, Camden,
Barre, and to the king, who was eating his heart with vexation fit having
been compelled to assent to what he called "the fatal repeal."

The British government, while repealing the law, had yet affirmed its
sovereign authority over the colonies. The colonies, on the other hand,
were inclined to confirm their present advantage and take a step still
further in advance. They would not be taxed without representation; why
should they submit to any legislation whatever without representation?
What right had England to enforce the Navigation Acts? The more the
general situation was contemplated and discussed, the plainer to all did
it appear that union was indispensable. The governors of most of the
colonies were directing a treacherous attack against the charters; but
bold students of the drift of things were foreseeing a time when charters
might be superseded by independence. Patriots everywhere were keenly on
the watch for any symptoms of a design on Parliament's part to raise a
revenue from America. The presence and quartering of English soldiers in
the colonies was regarded as not only a burden, but an insinuation. It was
moreover a constant occasion of disturbance; for there was no love lost
between the people and the soldiers. But, that there was no disposition on
the people's part to pick quarrels or to borrow trouble, was evident from
their voluntarily passing resolutions for the reimbursement of persons,
like Hutchinson, who had suffered loss from the riots. If England would
treat them like reasonable creatures, they were more than willing to meet
her half way. It is probable that but for the royal governors, England and
America might have arrived at an amicable understanding; yet, in the
ultimate interests of both countries, it was better that the evil
counselors of the day should prevail.

Townshend, an able, eloquent, but entirely untrustworthy man, devoted to
affairs, and of insatiable though unprincipled ambition, proposed in
Parliament to formulate a plan to derive a permanent revenue from America.
This Parliament has been described by historians, and is convicted by its
record, as the most corrupt, profligate and unscrupulous in English
annals. William Pitt, who had accepted the title of Lord Chatham, and
entered the House of Lords, was nominally the leader, but his health and
failing faculties left him no real power. Shelburne, Secretary of State,
was moderate and liberal, but no match for Townshend's brilliancy. The
latter's proposal was to suspend the legislature of New York, as a
punishment for the insubordination of the colony and a warning to others;
to support a resident army, and to pay salaries to governors, judges and
other crown officers, out of the revenue from America; to establish
commissioners of the customs in the country; to legalize general writs of
assistance; to permit no native-born American to hold office under the
crown; and to make the revenue derivable from specified taxes on imports.
The tax on tea was among those particularly mentioned. This was the scheme
which was to be substituted for the repealed stamp tax; the colonies had
objected to that as internal; this was external, and, though Townshend had
refused to admit any difference between the two, he now employed it as a
means of bringing the colonies to terms. The measure was received with
acclaim by Parliament, though it was contrary to the real sentiment of the
English nation. The king was charmed with it. Townshend died soon after it
was passed, at the age of forty-one; and the king called on Lord North to
take his place; a man of infirm will, but able, well-informed and
clear-minded, with a settled predisposition against the cause of the
people. He was as good an enemy of America as Grenville himself, though a
less ill-natured one.

But, viewing this period broadly, it is manifest that the finest brains
and best hearts, both in England and America, were friends to the cause of
liberty. America, certainly, at this critical epoch in her career,
produced a remarkable band of statesmen and patriots, perfectly fitted to
the parts they had to play. The two Adamses, Gadsden, Franklin, Otis,
Patrick Henry, Livingstone of New York, John Hancock, the wealthy and
splendid Boston merchant, Hawley of Connecticut, and Washington,
meditating upon the liberties of his country in the retirement of Mount
Vernon, and unconsciously preparing himself to lead her armies through the
Revolution--there has never been a company of better men active at one
time in any country. Just at this juncture, too, there arose in Delaware a
prophet by the name of John Dickinson, who wrote under the title of The
Farmer, and who formulated an argument against the new revenue law which
caught the attention of all the colonies. England, he pointed out,
prohibits American manufactures; she now lays duties on importations, for
the purpose of revenue only. Americans were taking steps to establish a
league to abstain from purchasing any articles brought from England,
intending thus to defeat the operation of the act without breaking the
law. This might answer in the case of luxuries, or of things which could
be made at home. But what if England were to meet this move by laying a
duty on some necessary of life, and then forbid Americans to manufacture
it at home? Obviously, they would then be constrained to buy it, paying
the duty, and thus surrendering their freedom. From this point of view it
would not be enough to evade the tax; it must be repealed, or resisted;
and resistance meant war.

Unless, however, some action of an official character were taken, binding
the colonies to co-operation, it was evident that the law would gradually
go into effect. The Massachusetts assembly, early in 1768, sent to its
London agent a letter, composed by Samuel Adams, embodying their formal
protest to the articles of the revenue act and its corollaries. At the
same time, they sent copies of the statement to the other colonial
assemblies in the country, accompanied with the suggestion that all unite
in discontinuing the use of British imported manufactures and other
articles. The crown officers, for their part, renewed their appeal to
England for naval and military forces to compel obedience and secure order.

The king and the government inclined to think that force was the remedy
in this case. It was in vain that the more magnanimous called attention to
the fact that an army and navy could not compel a man to buy a black
broadcloth coat, if he liked a homespun one better. Inflammatory reports
from America represented it as being practically in a state of
insurrection. A Boston newspaper, which had published a severe arraignment
of Governor Bernard, was tried for libel, and the jury, though informed by
Hutchinson that if they did not convict of high treason they "might depend
on being damned," brought in a verdict of acquittal. The Adams letter was
laid before the English ministry and pronounced to be "of a most dangerous
and factious tendency," and an injunction was dispatched to the several
colonial governors to bid their assemblies to treat it with contempt, and
if they declined, to dissolve them. Gage was ordered to enforce
tranquillity. But the colonial resistance had thus far been passive only.
The assemblies now declared that they had exclusive right to tax the
people; Virginia not only agreed to the Adams letter, but indited one even
more uncompromising; Pennsylvania and New York fell into line. A Boston
committee presented an address to Bernard asking him to mediate between
the people and England; he promised to do so, but at the same time sent
out secret requests to have regiments sent to Boston. Divining his
duplicity, John Adams, at the next town meeting, formulated the people's
resolve to vindicate their rights "at the utmost hazard of their lives and
fortunes," declaring that whosoever should solicit the importation of
troops was "an enemy to this town and province." The determination not to
rescind the principles stated in the Samuel Adams letter of January was
unanimous. Lord Mansfield thereupon declared that the Americans must be
reduced to entire obedience before their alleged grievances could be
considered. Camden confessed that he did not know what to do; the law must
be executed: but how? "If any province is to be chastised, it should be
Boston." Finally, two regiments and a squadron were ordered to Boston from
Halifax. Samuel Adams felt that the time was now at hand either for
independence or annihilation, and he affirmed publicly that the colonists
would be justified in "destroying every British soldier whose foot should
touch the shore." In the country round Boston, thirty thousand men were
ready to fight. A meeting was called in Faneuil Hall, and it resolved that
"the inhabitants of the Town of Boston will at the utmost peril of their
lives and fortunes maintain and defend their rights, liberties, privileges
and immunities."--"And," said Otis, pointing to four hundred muskets which
had been collected, "there are your arms; when an attempt is made against
your liberties, they will be delivered." Bernard, who was pale with alarm,
had to announce that the regiments were coming, and would be quartered,
one in Castle William, the other on the town. The council replied that
there was room enough in the Castle for both, and that, according to the
law, any officer attempting to use private houses would be cashiered. In
the midst of the dispute, the regiments arrived. The convention had, from
the first, law on their side; and in order to preserve this advantage were
determined to offer only a passive resistance to the revenue law, and to
abstain from violence until it was offered to them. No charge of high
treason would stand against any one. The anchoring of the squadron off
Castle William, with guns trained on the State House, had no effect. On
the first of October, in compliance with an order from Gage, and in the
absence of Bernard, who had fled to the country in a panic, the regiments
were landed at Long Wharf. With military music playing, fixed bayonets and
loaded guns, they marched to the Common, which was whitened by their
tents. An artillery train was also brought ashore. An attempt to browbeat
the people into providing quarters failed, and the officers dared not
seize them. At length they were obliged to rent rooms, and some of the men
were lodged in the State House, as the weather became too cold for outdoor
encampment; not a few of them deserted, and escaped into the country. But
Boston was under military rule, though there was nothing for the soldiers
to do. Sentinels were posted about the town, and citizens were challenged
as they walked their streets. On the Sabbath Day, drums and bugles
disturbed the worshipers in the churches. Officers of the custom house and
army officers met at the British coffee house in King Street. On the south
side of the State House was a court of guard, defended by two brass
cannon, and a large number of soldiers were kept there; in front of the
custom house, further down the street, a sentinel paced his beat. Boston
was indignant, but restricted itself to ceasing all purchases of
importations, trusting thus to wear out their oppressors. Some of the
younger men, however, were becoming restive under the implied or overt
insults of the officers and soldiery, and there were occasional quarrels
which might develop into something more serious. It was at this time that
the French inhabitants of New Orleans rose and drove out the Spanish
governor, Ulloa; and Du Chatelet remarked that it was "a good example for
the English colonies." But Boston needed no example; she afforded one in
herself. All the other colonies had indorsed her attitude; but the
animosity of England was concentrated against her. The whole kingdom was
embattled against the one small town; two more regiments had been sent
there, but no rebellion could be found. Was it the purpose to provoke one?
Soldiers, from time to time, were arrested for misdemeanors, and brought
before the civil magistrates, but were pardoned, when convicted, by the
higher courts. Samuel Adams and others, on the other hand, continued to be
threatened with prosecution for treason, but did not recede from their
position. Bernard, Hutchinson, Oliver, and the attorney-general acted as
secret informers and purveyors of evidence against the patriots. All
petitions from the colonies addressed to the English government were
refused so much as a hearing. And yet there was a strong division of
opinion in Parliament as to the course England was taking; and there were
many who wished that the question of taxation had never been raised. In
1769, it was conceded that the duties on most specified articles should be
abolished; nevertheless, Hillsborough, Secretary for the Colonies, said
that he would "grant nothing to Americans except what they might ask with
a halter round their necks"; and the great Samuel Johnson did not scruple
to add that "they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful for
anything we allow them short of hanging." Against such intemperate
vaporings are to be set the noble resolutions of the Virginia assembly, of
which Jefferson, Patrick Henry and Washington were members, extending its
sympathy and support to Massachusetts, warning King George against
carrying Americans beyond seas for trial, and advocating colonial union.
This was the more admirable, because England had treated Virginia with
especial tenderness and consideration. Similar resolutions in other
colonies followed, and a regular correspondence between the assemblies was
agreed to. The folly of English oppression had already created a united
America.

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