The effect of the passage of the Stamp Act soon revealed how fatally the ministry and even the colonial agents had misjudged the temper of the American people. The spontaneous formation of parties, begun two years before, now made rapid progress. The party of resistance, the patriots, were called Whigs; the party of submission, Hutchinson says, as early as 1763, were branded as Tories. The former, more numerous and aggressive, succeeded eventually in uniting all the provinces, from New Hampshire to Georgia, in common opposition to the new tax.
There was, however, a period of suspense. For some time after it was known that the bill had become a law, the colonists paused as if weighing the tremendous responsibility of defying the jurisdiction of Parliament. To many of the leaders, it seemed inevitable that the act would be enforced. Five weeks after news of its passage, Hutchinson wrote to the ministry, "The Stamp Act is received among us with as much decency as could be expected; it leaves not room for evasion, and will execute itself." April 27, Colden of New York assured Halifax that his province remained in "perfect tranquillity," not withstanding "the efforts of a faction to raise discontent in the minds of the people." Governor Sharpe of Maryland reported that the "warmth" of those who had a "notion" that the charter exempted them from such requisitions "would soon abate," and that in spite of the violent outcries of the lawyers, the Stamp Act would be carried into execution.
Although the "assembly of Pennsylvania was in session when tidings of the passage of the Stamp Act reached Philadelphia," it adjourned without taking "public notice of it." Even Otis, who in 1764 had said "it is our duty to submit" to the Sugar Act, now again declared it to be the "duty of all humbly and silently to acquiesce in all the decisions of the supreme legislature. Nine hundred and ninety-nine in a thousand of the colonists will never once entertain a thought but of submission to our sovereign, and to the authority of parliament in all possible contingencies. ... They undoubtedly have the right to levy internal taxes on the colonies." But appearances were deceptive: there was a smouldering fire of popular resentment which might at any time be stirred into a living flame.
The first organized resistance came from Virginia under the lead of Patrick Henry. From the moment of his victory in the "parson's cause," that young lawyer was marked in the province as a rising man. He was now rewarded with a place in the house of burgesses, where, his biographer says, "he was promptly to gain an ascendency that constituted him, almost literally, the dictator of its proceedings, so long as he chose to hold a place in it." Early in May 1765, he was chosen to fill a vacancy in the representation of Louisa County, of which he was not then a resident. The old leaders of the assembly were cautious and seemed inclined to yield.
It was not until four weeks after the opening of the session that the first action regarding the stamp tax was taken. On May 29, a motion was carried "that the house resolve itself into a committee of the whole, immediately to consider the steps necessary to be taken in consequence of the resolutions of the house of commons of Great Britain, relative to the charging certain stamp duties in the colonies and plantations of America." In the committee, Patrick Henry, who had taken his seat but nine days before, stepped boldly forward to assume the revolutionary leadership, proposing a preamble and seven resolutions, which he had written on a blank leaf of an old copy of "Coke upon Littleton." In them, he claimed for the colonists of Virginia all the rights at any time enjoyed by the people of Great Britain. Among these is the exclusive privilege of taxing themselves, "the distinguishing characteristic of British freedom, and without which the ancient constitution cannot subsist."
A stormy debate ensued. The resolutions were supported by the more democratic members of the western counties, but strongly opposed by Bland, Wythe, Nicholas, Pendleton, Peyton Randolph, and all the old and aristocratic leaders, "whose influence in the house had, till then, been unbroken," and whom the mover had just antagonized by his exposure of a corrupt financial scheme which some of them had favored. Henry was abused, ridiculed, and threatened. According to Jefferson, who heard the debate, the contest on the fifth resolution was especially "bloody"; but "torrents of sublime eloquence from Mr. Henry, backed by the solid reasoning of Johnston, prevailed." This resolution declares that every attempt to vest the power of taxation in any "persons whatsoever, other than the general assembly aforesaid, has a manifest tendency to destroy British as well as American freedom." At this point, while "descanting on the tyranny" of the Stamp Act, the orator startled the house with a warning from history as with thrilling voice he exclaimed, "Tarquin and Caesar had each his Brutus; Charles the First his Cromwell; and George the Third" — here the speaker cried "Treason," and the word was echoed from every part of the house, while Henry "rising to a loftier attitude," and fixing his eye on the chair, closed the sentence — "may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it."
Apparently, the preamble and seven resolutions were agreed to in the committee of the whole. On May 30, after a warm contest in the house, the last two resolutions with the preamble were rejected, while the remaining five were adopted, but only by a majority of one or two. The resolutions rejected, boldly asserted that the inhabitants of the colony "are not bound to yield obedience to any law or ordinance" imposing taxation upon them without their consent, and denounced as "an enemy to his majesty's colony" any person who should maintain that any body other than the colonial assembly has the right or power to levy such taxes. On the afternoon of that same day, Henry, "clad in a pair of leather breeches, his saddle-bags on his arm, leading a lame horse, and chatting with Paul Carrington," was seen passing along the street on his way home. The next morning, their dread antagonist being no longer at hand, the conservative members got together and expunged the fifth resolution from the record.
Meantime, in manuscript copy, as the supposed action of the assembly, the entire series of resolves agreed to in committee — except the third, omitted by error — was on its way to Philadelphia and New York. Borne onward to New England, they were published and widely circulated in the newspapers, and had a powerful influence in producing the excitement and violence which followed. For beyond question, the Virginia resolves mark an important crisis in the impending revolution.
While Virginia was thus raising the standard of resistance, Massachusetts pointed the way to union. On May 29 — the very day when Patrick Henry read his resolves — the general court began its session. The speech of Governor Bernard was most infelicitous in tone. Contrary to custom, the assembly made no reply, but turned at once to the great question of the hour. June 6, James Otis suggested that a meeting of "committees" from the assemblies should be called to consider the danger which menaced the country from the stamp tax. His suggestion was unanimously adopted, but the conservatives, in the hope of controlling the movement, were strong enough to secure the election of two of their number to serve with Otis as delegates of the house. These were Oliver Partridge and Timothy Ruggles, whom Bernard described as "fast friends of government, — prudent and discreet men who would never consent to any improper application to the government of Great Britain." On June 8 was adopted a circular letter inviting all the colonies to send delegates to a congress to be held in New York on the first Tuesday in October, to consider the difficulties to which the colonies "are and must be reduced by the operation of the acts of parliament for levying duties and taxes" upon them, to prepare a loyal and humble "representation of their condition" to the king and Parliament, and to "implore relief."
For several weeks, the response to the Massachusetts letter was not encouraging. The assembly of New Hampshire seemed to favor the plan of a congress but failed to appoint delegates. June 20, the last day of its session, the assembly of New Jersey received the circular letter. Robert Ogden, the speaker, was opposed to the project; and the house, while "not without a just sensibility respecting the late acts of parliament affecting the northern colonies," and wishing "such other colonies as think proper to be active every success they can loyally and reasonably desire," unanimously declined "to unite on the present occasion."
Gradually, the influence of the Virginia resolves made itself felt. The tide of popular excitement began to rise. First to accept the invitation was South Carolina. August 2, under the leadership of Christopher Gadsden, the assembly appointed delegates to the congress, and in its resolutions, the Stamp Act and the acts extending the jurisdiction of the courts of admiralty were held to have "a manifest tendency to subvert the rights and liberties of this province." Next, on August 13, the town of Providence instructed its representatives in the Rhode Island assembly to use their influence in favor of sending delegates to New York, and to "procure the passage of a series of resolves, in which were incorporated those adopted by Virginia." Accordingly, in September, the assembly appointed delegates to the congress, and adopted a declaration of rights embracing the substance of the Virginia resolutions, and directing all officers of the colony "to proceed in the execution of their respective offices in the same manner as usual," promising to indemnify and save them harmless. During the same month, deputies were chosen by the assemblies of Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Maryland. In each case, resolves similar in character to those of Virginia were agreed upon.
Thus, in six cases, delegates to the congress were chosen by the assemblies. In addition, New York sent its committee of correspondence, while Delaware and New Jersey were each represented by delegates elected by members of the assemblies acting informally. Virginia, Georgia, and North Carolina sent no delegates, their governors refusing to call the assemblies. New Hampshire, too, was unrepresented. Yet all these colonies were in sympathy with the congress, and from both Georgia and New Hampshire came assurance of accepting its action.
Meantime, throughout the country, intense excitement prevailed. From town meetings, county assemblies, and provincial legislatures came remonstrances and resolves. Through pamphlets and newspapers, a fierce contest was waged. It soon became quite clear that the Stamp Act would be absolutely nullified. As a form of passive resistance, non-importation agreements 1 were made and domestic manufactures encouraged. While the Stamp Act was still pending, many of the people of Boston had pledged themselves to abstain from the use of English goods, and "particularly to break off from the custom of wearing black clothes or other mourning." After its passage, to increase the growth and manufacture of wool in the province, an agreement was "signed by a great portion of the inhabitants of Boston, to eat no lamb during the year." Frugality and industry were the maxims of the hour.
Active resistance to the execution of the Stamp Act centred in the associations of Sons of Liberty, which at this time sprang up everywhere in the colonies and whose name may have been suggested by Barre's speech. For a time, these organizations were kept secret; but "as they increased, they grew in boldness and publicity, announcing their committees of correspondence, and interchanging solemn pledges of support." They aimed directly at forcible resistance. To enforce the non-importation agreements and to compel the stamp distributors to resign were their principal objects.
Nowhere was opposition more active or determined than in New York. Here, Franklin's wood-cut device, first employed against the French, of a snake cut in parts, with the motto "join or die," was used against Great Britain; and here, even before Virginia had raised the standard of resistance or Massachusetts had pointed the way to union, "independence" was boldly suggested by John Morin Scott. The "great fundamental principles of government," he wrote, "should be common to all its parts and members, else the whole will be endangered. If, then, the interest of the mother country and her colonies cannot be made to coincide; if the same constitution may not take place in both; if the welfare of the mother country necessarily requires a sacrifice of the most natural rights of the colonies — their right of making their own laws, and disposing of their own property by representatives of their own choosing — if such is really the case between Great Britain and her colonies, then the connection between them ought to cease; and, sooner or later, it must inevitably cease." In September a New York newspaper announced that on February 7, 1765, "Lady North American Liberty" had "died of a cruel stamp on her vitals"; but, happily, she had left an only son, "prophetically named Independence," on whom the "hopes of all her disconsolate servants are placed for relief under their afflictions, when he shall come of age."
Forcible annulment could scarcely fail to degenerate into mob violence — the inevitable incident of revolution. The first riots occurred in Boston, where, on August 8, the name of Andrew Oliver, brother-in-law of Chief Justice Hutchinson, had appeared in a published list of stamp distributors. On the morning of August 14, Oliver's effigy with that of Lord Bute was seen suspended from an elm in Boston, thereafter famous as the "Liberty Tree." In the evening, a great crowd, marching in order and shouting, "Liberty, property, and no stamps," carried the images on biers through the old state-house, where the governor and council were then sitting. Arriving at Kilby Street, they pulled down the frame of a building which they fancied Oliver designed for a stamp office, and then used the fragments to burn the effigies before his own home on Fort Hill, first smashing all the windows next to the street. The following day, Oliver announced his resignation.
Worse things were soon to come. On Sunday, August 25, the popular preacher, Jonathan Mahew, warmly condemned the Stamp Act, indiscreetly taking the text, "I would they were even cut off which trouble you." The next day a mob burned the records of the vice-admiralty court, sacked the house of the comptroller of customs, and destroyed the fine mansion of Hutchinson, who was erroneously believed to favor the Stamp Act and was disliked for his course regarding the writs of assistance. "The very partition walls were beaten down; the furniture destroyed; the family paintings and plate defaced; a large sum of money pillaged; and a valuable collection of books and manuscripts, the fruit of thirty years' labor, almost entirely annihilated." The manuscript of Hutchinson's history of Massachusetts still "carries on its edges the mud of the Boston streets into which it was thrown."
The town-meeting declared its detestation of these proceedings. A few arrests were made, but the prisoners were soon rescued by the people, and none of the culprits were ever brought to justice. December 17, Oliver suffered a more shameful indignity. Alleging a rumor that he was about to resume his office of stamp distributor, the "true-born sons of liberty" demanded a public denial. Standing under the Liberty Tree before two thousand people, he was forced to read a renunciation of his office and swear to it on the spot before a justice of the peace.
Similar outrages occurred in other colonies. At Newport, on the very next day after Hutchinson's house was destroyed, Augustus Johnson, the stamp distributor, Thomas Moffat, a physician, and Martin Howard, author of the able pamphlet above mentioned, were hanged and burned in effigy. The following night, the same mob gutted Howard's house and injured his person; whereupon, in fear of his life, with Moffat, he "took shelter in the Signet man of war, and soon after departed for Great Britain." Thus in the name of liberty, free speech was suppressed.
Naturally, the wrath of the people was chiefly directed against those Americans who had accepted the post of stamp distributor. Besides those already mentioned, Meserve of New Hampshire, Coxe of New Jersey, McEvers of New York, Mercer of Virginia, Houston of North Carolina, Lloyd of South Carolina, Ingersoll of Connecticut, Hood of Maryland, and even Franklin's friend, the stanch Quaker, Hughes of Pennsylvania, all through reason or terror were induced to resign. October 31, the day before the Stamp Act was to take effect, all the colonial governors except Hopkins, of Rhode Island, took the oath to put it in force; but already every stamp distributor on the continent had given up his post.
The first day of November began with the tolling of muffled bells and the flying of pennants at half-mast. It was signalled in several towns by processions carrying the Stamp Act to be burned or buried, or again by the funeral of a coffin bearing the name of Liberty, which, after being lowered into the grave, was raised again with the inscription 'Liberty Revived.' Handbills posted at the street corners in Boston warned those who should distribute or use stamps to look to themselves." Like notices were posted in New York, where the day was spent in tumultuous demonstrations ending in riots. For a time after this date, business requiring the use of stamps was generally suspended throughout the colonies. Except in Rhode Island, the courts were closed. Ships hesitated to go to sea without stamped clearance papers. But gradually, business was nearly everywhere renewed in open disregard of the law. Nullification was virtually complete.
The first congress of the Revolution met in the city hall at New York on Monday, October 7, 1765, and remained in session until Friday, the 25th. It was composed of twenty-seven members representing nine colonies. Timothy Ruggles, a loyalist deputy of Massachusetts, was elected chairman, and John Cotton clerk. Conspicuous for ability among the members were Edward Tilghman of Maryland; Thomas McKean and Caesar Rodney of Delaware; Philip Livingston of New York; William Livingston of New 1 Jersey; John Dickinson of Pennsylvania; Thomas Lynch, John Rutledge, and Christopher Gadsden of South Carolina; and James Otis of Massachusetts, the foremost speaker. It was decided to base the liberties claimed by Americans, not on royal charters, as Johnson of Connecticut suggested, but upon higher principles of natural equity. "A confirmation of our essential and common rights as Englishmen," wrote Gadsden, "may be pleaded from charters safely enough; but any further dependence upon them may be fatal. We should stand upon the broad common ground of those natural rights that we all feel and know as men, and as descendants of Englishmen. I wish the charters may not ensnare us at last by drawing different colonies to act differently in this great cause. Whenever that is the case, all will be over with the whole. There ought to be no New England man, no New-Yorker, known on the continent, but all of us Americans."
After eleven days' debate, a "declaration of rights and grievances" was adopted, consisting of a preamble and fourteen resolutions. On the question of natural rights, the declaration announced that his majesty's subjects in the colonies owe the same allegiance and are entitled to the same "inherent rights and liberties "as" his natural born subjects" in Great Britain. Among the essential rights of Englishmen are those of trial by jury and of not being taxed save by their own consent. This led to an assertion as to representation: that the "people of these colonies are not, and, from local circumstances, cannot be, represented in the House of Commons." Their only representatives "are persons chosen therein by themselves." The logical deduction was that no taxes "ever have been, or can be constitutionally imposed on them, but by their respective legislatures." Therefore, the recent acts of Parliament laying stamp duties and extending the jurisdiction of the courts of admiralty "have a manifest tendency to subvert the rights and liberties of the colonies." Indirect taxes are not squarely repudiated as unconstitutional, but the recent restrictions on American commerce are described as "burdensome and grievous."
Similar rights and immunities are claimed in the "address" to the king, the "memorial" to the Lords, and the "petition" to the Commons. In the latter the deputies say that there is a "material distinction in reason and sound policy, at least, between the necessary exercise of parliamentary jurisdiction in general acts, for the amendment of the common law, and the regulation of trade and commerce through the whole empire, and the exercise of that jurisdiction, by imposing taxes on the colonies"; and "that it would be for the real interest of Great Britain, as well as her colonies, that the late regulations should be rescinded" and the recent tax laws repealed.
The Congress of 1765 is a fact of decisive meaning in the rise of the American nation. It is an expression of the sentiment of union forced out by the revenue acts. Its state papers — the first drawn up by an intercolonial body during the Revolution — are admirable in form and character. In the Declaration of Rights, a body representing the majority of the American people first set forth the cardinal principles upon which the republic was soon to rest.