A Quarrel with the Mother Country
We must now consider the reasons for the quarrel with the mother
country. “Woe to the law breaker!” The law breaker causing this
disagreement was the English government. According to the English
constitution, new taxes could not be laid upon the people without the
consent of their representatives. It now suddenly occurred to the
government to tax the colonies without asking their permission. Thus it
was acting contrary to the principles of the constitution. All
right-thinking people will agree that one of the saddest spectacles in
history is to see a government, whose sacred duty it is to be the
guardian of the law, working for its overthrow. The Anglo-American
disagreement furnishes this mournful spectacle.
Lord Camden, one of those astute statesmen in England who foresaw the
consequences of such action, said to Franklin: “In spite of your
oft-protested love for England, I know that some day you Americans will
shake off the bonds which unite you to us and raise the flag of
independence.” This remark was afterward recalled and the reasons for it
were sought and not in vain. The English government seems to have been
possessed by a spirit of lawlessness at that time, while the American
colonies were distinguished, just at the same period, in an
extraordinary degree, by a high regard for law. Thus Lord Camden saw the
day approaching when the unjust demands of the government would arouse
the resistance of the Americans. Franklin had assured Camden that
nothing was farther from the thoughts of his countrymen than a
separation from the mother country and the formation of an independent
State. Franklin indeed added the words, “That is, unless you treat us
shamefully,” to which Lord Camden answered significantly, “That is true;
and that is precisely one of the reasons which I foresee will bring this
to pass.”
Lord Camden’s predictions were fulfilled. The ministry of King George
arbitrarily imposed duties upon certain articles in the colonies. This
illegal procedure was answered by the American population refusing to
buy the taxed goods sent over from England. The act was annulled, but
not on the ground of unlawfulness, but because it was determined to tax
a class of goods which, it was thought, America could not do without.
The government said to itself: Contracts shall be legal only when they
are executed upon stamped paper. As there are innumerable contracts
entered into between the merchants in the colonies, and stamps must be
purchased for them, there will be no alternative, the inhabitants will
be compelled to pay the tax which we shall lay upon these documents.
Here it made another mistake; the Americans, in their business dealings,
now employed only verbal promises and oaths—the English tax-agents could
not sell a single stamped paper.
There was more or less unrest here and there. The evident injustice of
the measure caused some outbreaks among the people, but the leaders
tried to keep the agitation within legal bounds. Even yet Washington was
far from thoughts of a separation. He wrote to a friend: “I can testify
that in fact independence is neither the desire nor for the interest of
the colonies. But,” he added, “you may be sure that not one of them will
ever allow those valuable rights to be destroyed which are essential to
the happiness of a free country and without which life, liberty, and
property are without security.” Parliament was blind enough to give its
approval to the arbitrary measures of the government. In spite of this
the wish was general among the great majority of American citizens that
matters should not come to a real break. The question was prayed over in
the churches, petitions were sent to London to the King and to
Parliament. Washington wrote to a member of that body: “The repeal, to
whatever cause owing, ought much to be rejoiced at, for, had the
Parliament of Great Britain resolved upon enforcing it, the
consequences, I conceive, would have been more direful than is generally
apprehended, both to the mother country and her colonies. All,
therefore, who were instrumental in procuring the repeal are entitled to
the thanks of every British subject, and have mine cordially.” The Stamp
Act was now annulled, but again only because nothing had been
accomplished by it. The evil intent toward the American colonies
remained.
It was not long before the English government, with the assistance of
Parliament, imposed a new duty on tea, paper, glass, and painters’
colors. This embittered every one anew. Immediately leagues were formed
in several colonies, whose members pledged themselves not to buy goods
imported from England, except in case of the greatest necessity. It was
hoped that this would cause English citizens at home to persuade the
government to cancel this new duty. Washington wrote to a friend: “At a
time when our lordly masters in Great Britain will be satisfied with
nothing less than the deprivation of American freedom, it seems highly
necessary that something should be done to avert the stroke and maintain
the liberty which we have derived from our ancestors. But the manner of
doing it to answer the purpose effectually is the point in question.
That no man should scruple, or hesitate a moment, to use arms in defence
of so valuable a blessing is clearly my opinion. Yet arms, I would beg
leave to add, should be the last resource, the _dernier resort_. We have
already, it is said, proved the inefficacy of addresses to the throne
and remonstrances to Parliament. How far, then, their attention to our
rights and privileges is to be awakened or alarmed by starving their
trade and manufactures, remains to be tried. The northern colonies, it
appears, are endeavoring to adopt this scheme. In my opinion it is a
good one, and must be attended with salutary effects, provided it can be
carried pretty generally into execution.”
This letter of Washington shows the attitude of the best men of the time
toward the illegal measures of Parliament. But England went farther
still along the hazardous path on which she had entered. One wrong
begets another. It was determined to treat the resistance to the duties
as high treason. As the American judges would not agree to this, the
government arbitrarily introduced new courts composed of British naval
officers, whose attitude was assured beforehand. Besides this, it set
aside magistrates—this, again, contrary to the laws of the land—and
created new ones. Finally it was ordained that in future all of the more
serious crimes should be tried in England instead of in the colonies.
This despotic behavior increased the bitterness in the minds of the
Americans. Here and there their anger blazed up. One heard of bloody
encounters between the American populace and British soldiers. The
latter gave the Americans the nickname of Yankees, which in the Iroquois
tongue meant _cowardly_ and _bad_. The people retorted by calling the
British soldiers crabs and bloodhounds, in allusion to their red
uniforms.
For a time ships which brought tea from England were refused admission
to Boston Harbor, whereupon the harbor was surrounded by British ships
and it was proclaimed that the refusal of tea ships would no longer be
tolerated. This so aroused the ire of the Bostonians that it was
determined to destroy the tea. A band of men disguised as Indians
boarded the ships at night, and three hundred and forty-two chests of
tea were thrown into the water. In consequence of this act the port of
Boston was closed by the British. That was a heavy blow for the city,
whose commerce was practically destroyed by this measure. But the
inhabitants did not yield.
Upon this the English government, through the Parliament in London,
instructed the other colonies to treat the inhabitants of Massachusetts
as rebels. Arguments were made in Parliament for and against this
course. A general, who denounced the attitude of the citizens of Boston
with extreme bitterness, said that he would pledge himself to drive the
whole lot of American rebels from one end of the world to the other with
five regiments of infantry. Others defended the Americans. Wilkes showed
that the British had adopted an unjust and inequitable course against
the colonists. “It is our ministers,” he continued, “who wish to loose
the bonds which unite North America with Great Britain, while the
colonists wish for nothing but peace, freedom, and security.” He adjured
Parliament to adopt a more just procedure toward them. “It is possible,”
he concluded, “that you might be able to burn Boston, or to place a
strong garrison there, but the whole province will be lost to you. From
this moment I see America’s independence growing and gathering strength;
I see her, in her freedom, attaining a greatness equal to the richest
and mightiest empires in the world. Do you wish to push the Americans to
desperation? Good! You will see them defend their property with that
courage which hatred of tyranny inspires, with the courage that comes
down to them from our illustrious forefathers, who fought in defence of
their threatened liberties!” The warning was in vain. The majority in
Parliament shared the blindness of the ministry and not only the
inhabitants of Boston, but of the whole province were declared rebels;
that is, they were put under military law. This was equal to a
declaration of war.
As soon as the decree was made known in Massachusetts, the
representatives of the colony met at Salem and from there issued a call
to all the American colonies to a general congress. The call was
accepted by nearly all of them, though the delegates from Georgia did
not arrive until later. Philadelphia was chosen as the place of meeting
and the first Continental Congress convened on the fourth of September,
1774. The greater part of the fifty-one members were thoughtful,
dignified men. Washington was the most distinguished amongst them. He
had written a short time before this to a friend: “What is it we are
contending against? Is it against paying the duty of threepence per
pound on tea, because burdensome? No, it is our right only that we have
all along disputed.... If I had no doubt that the British Parliament had
a right to tax us without our consent, and contrary to our charters and
our constitution, I should consider entreaties, and entreaties only, the
sole means through which we should seek redress. But my firm conviction
is that the British Parliament has no more right to put its hand in my
pocket than I have to put mine into my neighbor’s.”
The proposal to open the Congress with prayer was adopted unanimously.
The minister began his petition for God’s aid in a just cause with the
words of the Thirty-fifth Psalm: “Plead my cause, O Lord, with them that
strive with me: fight against them that fight against me. Take hold of
shield and buckler, and stand up for mine help.” Next a “declaration of
rights” was drawn up, which stated the lawful rights of the colonies
clearly and concisely. Furthermore the resolution to refrain from buying
English goods until the unlawful demands had been withdrawn was renewed,
and finally an address to the English people, a memorial to the American
people, and a petition to the King were framed. They were anxious not to
destroy the possibility of a peaceable adjustment, even at the last
moment.
The English people were addressed with firmness and dignity. “You have
been told,” the address says, “that we are rebels who are weary of
submission to authority and seek independence. Be assured that this is
calumny. Grant us the same freedom that you enjoy and we shall glory in
our union with you and esteem it our greatest happiness. We shall always
be ready to sacrifice all that lies in our power for the welfare of the
empire; we shall consider your enemies our enemies, and your interests
our interests. But should you be determined to allow your ministers to
trifle with human dignity, should neither the voice of justice, nor the
precepts of the law, nor the basis of the constitution, nor feelings of
humanity, deter you from shedding our blood—we must declare to you that
we shall never debase ourselves to become the slaves of any minister or
of any nation in the world.”
The King, as well as the ministry and Parliament, persisted in their
blindness. The greatest English statesman, Chatham, warned his
countrymen in vain and pleaded with enthusiasm, but fruitlessly, the
just and honorable cause of the Americans. “When your Lordships,” he
cried, “look at the papers transmitted us from America, when you
consider their decency, firmness, and wisdom, you can not but respect
their cause and wish to make it your own. For myself, I must avow that
in all my reading—and I have read Thucydides and have studied and
admired the master States of the world—for solidity of reason, force of
sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion under a complication of difficult
circumstances, no body of men can stand in preference to the General
Congress at Philadelphia.” At another time he said: “I rejoice that
America has resisted. Three millions of people so dead to all the
feelings of liberty, as voluntarily to submit to be slaves, would have
been fit instruments to make slaves of the rest.”
Not only Washington’s whole previous life and career, but particularly
his attitude at the Congress, caused his countrymen to look to him with
the greatest confidence. When one of the most prominent members, Patrick
Henry, was asked on his return home whom he considered the most
important man among the members, he answered: “If you refer to
eloquence, Rutledge of South Carolina is by far the greatest orator; but
if you speak of thorough knowledge and sound judgment, without question
Colonel Washington is the greatest man in that body.”
It was a comfort to all who had reached the conclusion that the day of
conflict was not far distant that Washington not only had great gifts as
a statesman, but had already proved himself an accomplished soldier.