CHAPTER IV.

DRIFTING TOWARD ANARCHY.

[Sidenote: Barbarous superstitions about trade.]

At the close of the eighteenth century the barbarous superstitions of

the Middle Ages concerning trade between nations still flourished with

scarcely diminished vitality. The epoch-making work of Adam Smith had

been published in the same year in which the United States declared

their independence. The one was the great scientific event, as the other

was the great political event of the age; but of neither the one nor the

other were the scope and purport fathomed at the time. Among the

foremost statesmen, those who, like Shelburne and Gallatin, understood

the principles of the "Wealth of Nations" were few indeed. The simple

principle that when two parties trade both must be gainers, or one would

soon stop trading, was generally lost sight of; and most commercial

legislation proceeded upon the theory that in trade, as in gambling or

betting, what the one party gains the other must lose. Hence towns,

districts, and nations surrounded themselves with walls of legislative

restrictions intended to keep out the monster Trade, or to admit him

only on strictest proof that he could do no harm. On this barbarous

theory, the use of a colony consisted in its being a customer which you

could compel to trade with yourself, while you could prevent it from

trading with anybody else; and having secured this point, you could

cunningly arrange things by legislation so as to throw all the loss upon

this enforced customer, and keep all the gain to yourself. In the

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries all the commercial legislation of

the great colonizing states was based upon this theory of the use of a

colony. For effectiveness, it shared to some extent the characteristic

features of legislation for making water run up hill. It retarded

commercial development all over the world, fostered monopolies, made the

rich richer and the poor poorer, hindered the interchange of ideas and

the refinement of manners, and sacrificed millions of human lives in

misdirected warfare; but what it was intended to do it did not do. The

sturdy race of smugglers--those despised pioneers of a higher

civilization--thrived in defiance of kings and parliaments; and as it

was impossible to carry out such legislation thoroughly without stopping

trade altogether, colonies and mother countries contrived to increase

their wealth in spite of it. The colonies, however, understood the

animus of the theory in so far as it was directed against them, and the

revolutionary sentiment in America had gained much of its strength from

the protest against this one-sided justice. In one of its most important

aspects, the Revolution was a deadly blow aimed at the old system of

trade restrictions. It was to a certain extent a step in realization of

the noble doctrines of Adam Smith. But where the scientific thinker

grasped the whole principle involved in the matter, the practical

statesmen saw only the special application which seemed to concern them

for the moment. They all understood that the Revolution had set them

free to trade with other countries than England, but very few of them

understood that, whatever countries trade together, the one cannot hope

to benefit by impoverishing the other.

This point is much better understood in England to-day than in the

United States; but a century ago there was little to choose between the

two countries in ignorance of political economy. England had gained

great wealth and power through trade with her rapidly growing American

colonies. One of her chief fears, in the event of American independence,

had been the possible loss of that trade. English merchants feared that

American commerce, when no longer confined to its old paths by

legislation, would somehow find its way to France and Holland and Spain

and other countries, until nothing would be left for England. The

Revolution worked no such change, however. The principal trade of the

United States was with England, as before, because England could best

supply the goods that Americans wanted; and it is such considerations,

and not acts of Parliament, that determine trade in its natural and

proper channels. In 1783 Pitt introduced into Parliament a bill which

would have secured mutual unconditional free trade between the two

countries; and this was what such men as Franklin, Jefferson, and

Madison desired. Could this bill have passed, the hard feelings

occasioned by the war would soon have died out, the commercial progress

of both countries would have been promoted, and the stupid measures

which led to a second war within thirty years might have been prevented.

But the wisdom of Pitt found less favour in Parliament than the dense

stupidity of Lord Sheffield, who thought that to admit Americans to the

carrying trade would undermine the naval power of Great Britain. Pitt's

measure was defeated, and the regulation of commerce with America was

left to the king in council. Orders were forthwith passed as if upon the

theory that America poor would be a better customer than America rich.

[Sidenote: Ship-building in New England.]

[Sidenote: British navigation acts and orders in council directed

against American commerce.]

The carrying trade to the West Indies had been one of the most important

branches of American industry. The men of New England were famous for

seamanship, and better and cheaper ships could be built in the seaports

of Massachusetts than anywhere in Great Britain. An oak vessel could be

built at Gloucester or Salem for twenty-four dollars per ton; a ship of

live-oak or American cedar cost not more than thirty-eight dollars per

ton. On the other hand, fir vessels built on the Baltic cost thirty-five

dollars per ton, and nowhere in England, France, or Holland could a ship

be made of oak for less than fifty dollars per ton. Often the cost was

as high as sixty dollars. It was not strange, therefore, that before the

war more than one third of the tonnage afloat under the British flag was

launched from American dock-yards. The war had violently deprived

England of this enormous advantage, and now she sought to make the

privation perpetual, in the delusive hope of confining British trade to

British keels, and in the belief that it was the height of wisdom to

impoverish the nation which she regarded as her best customer. In July,

1783, an order in council proclaimed that henceforth all trade between

the United States and the British West Indies must be carried on in

British-built ships, owned and navigated by British subjects. A serious

blow was thus dealt not only at American shipping, but also at the

interchange of commodities between the states and the islands, which was

greatly hampered by this restriction. During the whole of the eighteenth

century the West India sugar trade with the North American colonies and

with Great Britain had been of immense value to all parties, and all had

been seriously damaged by the curtailment of it due to the war. Now that

the artificial state of things created by the war was to be perpetuated

by legislation, the prospect of repairing the loss seemed indefinitely

postponed. Moreover, even in trading directly with Great Britain,

American ships were only allowed to bring in articles produced in the

particular states of which their owners were citizens,--an enactment

which seemed to add insult to injury, inasmuch as it directed especial

attention to the want of union among the thirteen states. Great

indignation was aroused in America, and reprisals were talked of, but

efforts were first made to obtain a commercial treaty.

[Sidenote: John Adams tries in vain to negotiate a commercial treaty.]

In 1785 Franklin returned from France, and Jefferson was sent as

minister in his stead, while John Adams became the first representative

of the United States at the British court. Adams was at first very

courteously received by George III., and presently set to work to

convince Lord Carmarthen, the foreign secretary, of the desirableness of

unrestricted intercourse between the two countries. But popular opinion

in England was obstinately set against him. But for the Navigation Act

and the orders in council, it was said, all ships would by and by come

to be built in America, and every time a frigate was wanted for the navy

the Lords of Admiralty would have to send over to Boston or Philadelphia

and order one. Rather than do such a thing as this, it was thought that

the British navy should content itself with vessels of inferior

workmanship and higher cost, built in British dock-yards. Thirty years

after, England gathered an unexpected fruit of this narrow policy, when,

to her intense bewilderment, she saw frigate after frigate outsailed and

defeated in single combat with American antagonists. Owing to her

exclusive measures, the rapid improvement in American shipbuilding had

gone on quite beyond her ken, until she was thus rudely awakened to it.

With similar short-sighted jealousy, it was argued that the American

share in the whale-fishery and in the Newfoundland fishery should be

curtailed as much as possible. Spermaceti oil was much needed in

England: complaints were rife of robbery and murder in the dimly lighted

streets of London and other great cities. But it was thought that if

American ships could carry oil to England and salt fish to Jamaica, the

supply of seamen for the British navy would be diminished; and

accordingly such privileges must not be granted the Americans unless

valuable privileges could be granted in return. But the government of

the United States could grant no privileges because it could impose no

restrictions. British manufactured goods were needed in America, and

Congress, which could levy no duties, had no power to keep them out.

British merchants and manufacturers, it was argued, already enjoyed all

needful privileges in American ports, and accordingly they asked no

favours and granted none.

Such were the arguments to which Adams was obliged to listen. The

popular feeling was so strong that Pitt could not have stemmed it if he

would. It was in vain that Adams threatened reprisals, and urged that

the British measures would defeat their own purpose. "The end of the

Navigation Act," said he, "as expressed in its own preamble, is to

confine the commerce of the colonies to the mother country; but now we

are become independent states, instead of confining our trade to Great

Britain, it will drive it to other countries:" and he suggested that the

Americans might make a navigation act in their turn, admitting to

American ports none but American-built ships, owned and commanded by

Americans. But under the articles of confederation such a threat was

idle, and the British government knew it to be so. Thirteen separate

state governments could never be made to adopt any such measure in

concert. The weakness of Congress had been fatally revealed in its

inability to protect the loyalists or to enforce the payment of debts,

and in its failure to raise a revenue for meeting its current expenses.

A government thus slighted at home was naturally despised abroad.

England neglected to send a minister to Philadelphia, and while Adams

was treated politely, his arguments were unheeded. Whether in this

behaviour Pitt's government was influenced or not by political as well

as economical reasons, it was certain that a political purpose was

entertained by the king and approved by many people. There was an

intention of humiliating the Americans, and it was commonly said that

under a sufficient weight of commercial distress the states would break

up their feeble union, and come straggling back, one after another, to

their old allegiance. The fiery spirit of Adams could ill brook this

contemptuous treatment of the nation which he represented. Though he

favoured very liberal commercial relations with the whole world, he

could see no escape from the present difficulties save in systematic

retaliation. "I should be sorry," he said, "to adopt a monopoly, but,

driven to the necessity of it, I would not do things by halves.... If

monopolies and exclusions are the only arms of defence against

monopolies and exclusions, I would venture upon them without fear of

offending Dean Tucker or the ghost of Dr. Quesnay." That is to say,

certain commercial privileges must be withheld from Great Britain, in

order to be offered to her in return for reciprocal privileges. It was a

miserable policy to be forced to adopt, for such restrictions upon trade

inevitably cut both ways. Like the non-importation agreement of 1768

and the embargo of 1808, such a policy was open to the objections

familiarly urged against biting off one's own nose. It was injuring

one's self in the hope of injuring somebody else. It was perpetuating in

time of peace the obstacles to commerce generated by a state of war. In

a certain sense, it was keeping up warfare by commercial instead of

military methods, and there was danger that it might lead to a renewal

of armed conflict. Nevertheless, the conduct of the British government

seemed to Adams to leave no other course open. But such "means of

preserving ourselves," he said, "can never be secured until Congress

shall be made supreme in foreign commerce."

[Sidenote: Reprisal impossible; the states impose conflicting duties.]

It was obvious enough that the separate action of the states upon such a

question was only adding to the general uncertainty and confusion. In

1785 New York laid a double duty on all goods whatever imported in

British ships. In the same year Pennsylvania passed the first of the

long series of American tariff acts, designed to tax the whole community

for the alleged benefit of a few greedy manufacturers. Massachusetts

sought to establish committees of correspondence for the purpose of

entering into a new non-importation agreement, and its legislature

resolved that "the present powers of the Congress of the United States,

as contained in the articles of confederation, are not fully adequate to

the great purposes they were originally designed to effect." The

Massachusetts delegates in Congress--Gerry, Holton, and King--were

instructed to recommend a general convention of the states for the

purpose of revising and amending the articles of confederation; but the

delegates refused to comply with their instructions, and set forth their

reasons in a paper which was approved by Samuel Adams, and caused the

legislature to reconsider its action. It was feared that a call for a

convention might seem too much like an open expression of a want of

confidence in Congress, and might thereby weaken it still further

without accomplishing any good result. For the present, as a temporary

expedient, Massachusetts took counsel with New Hampshire, and the two

states passed navigation acts, prohibiting British ships from carrying

goods out of their harbours, and imposing a fourfold duty upon all such

goods as they should bring in. A discriminating tonnage duty was also

laid upon all foreign vessels. Rhode Island soon after adopted similar

measures. In Congress a scheme for a uniform navigation act, to be

concurred in and passed by all the thirteen states, was suggested by one

of the Maryland delegates; but it was opposed by Richard Henry Lee and

most of the delegates from the far south. The southern states, having no

ships or seamen of their own, feared that the exclusion of British

competition might enable northern ship-owners to charge exorbitant rates

for carrying their rice and tobacco, thus subjecting them to a ruinous

monopoly; but the gallant Moultrie, then governor of South Carolina,

taking a broader view of the case, wrote to Bowdoin, governor of

Massachusetts, asserting the paramount need of harmonious and united

action. In the Virginia assembly, a hot-headed member, named Thurston,

declared himself in doubt "whether it would not be better to encourage

the British rather than the eastern marine;" but the remark was greeted

with hisses and groans, and the speaker was speedily put down. Amid such

mutual jealousies and misgivings, during the year 1785 acts were passed

by ten states granting to Congress the power of regulating commerce for

the ensuing thirteen years. The three states which refrained from acting

were Georgia, South Carolina, and Delaware. The acts of the other ten

were, as might have been expected, a jumble of incongruities. North

Carolina granted all the power that was asked, but stipulated that when

all the states should have done likewise their acts should be summed up

in a new article of confederation. Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and

Maryland had fixed the date at which the grant was to take effect, while

Rhode Island provided that it should not expire until after the lapse of

twenty-five years. The grant by New Hampshire allowed the power to be

used only in one specified way,--by restricting the duties imposable by

the several states. The grants of Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey,

and Virginia were not to take effect until all the others should go into

operation. The only thing which Congress could do with these acts was to

refer them back to the several legislatures, with a polite request to

try to reduce them to something like uniformity.

[Sidenote: Commercial war between different states.]

Meanwhile, the different states, with their different tariff and tonnage

acts, began to make commercial war upon one another. No sooner had the

other three New England states virtually closed their ports to British

shipping than Connecticut threw hers wide open, an act which she

followed up by laying duties upon imports from Massachusetts.

Pennsylvania discriminated against Delaware, and New Jersey, pillaged at

once by both her greater neighbours, was compared to a cask tapped at

both ends. The conduct of New York became especially selfish and

blameworthy. That rapid growth which was so soon to carry the city and

the state to a position of primacy in the Union had already begun. After

the departure of the British the revival of business went on with leaps

and bounds. The feeling of local patriotism waxed strong, and in no one

was it more completely manifested than in George Clinton, the

Revolutionary general, whom the people elected governor for nine

successive terms. From a humble origin, by dint of shrewdness and

untiring push, Clinton had come to be for the moment the most powerful

man in the state of New York. He had come to look upon the state almost

as if it were his own private manor, and his life was devoted to

furthering its interests as he understood them. It was his first article

of faith that New York must be the greatest state in the Union. But his

conceptions of statesmanship were extremely narrow. In his mind, the

welfare of New York meant the pulling down and thrusting aside of all

her neighbours and rivals. He was the vigorous and steadfast advocate of

every illiberal and exclusive measure, and the most uncompromising

enemy to a closer union of the states. His great popular strength and

the commercial importance of the community in which he held sway made

him at this time the most dangerous man in America. The political

victories presently to be won by Hamilton, Schuyler, and Livingston,

without which our grand and pacific federal union could not have been

brought into being, were victories won by most desperate fighting

against the dogged opposition of Clinton. Under his guidance, the

history of New York, during the five years following the peace of 1783,

was a shameful story of greedy monopoly and sectional hate. Of all the

thirteen states, none behaved worse except Rhode Island.

A single instance, which occurred early in 1787, may serve as an

illustration. The city of New York, with its population of 30,000 souls,

had long been supplied with firewood from Connecticut, and with butter

and cheese, chickens and garden vegetables, from the thrifty farms of

New Jersey. This trade, it was observed, carried thousands of dollars

out of the city and into the pockets of detested Yankees and despised

Jerseymen. It was ruinous to domestic industry, said the men of New

York. It must be stopped by those effective remedies of the Sangrado

school of economic doctors, a navigation act and a protective tariff.

Acts were accordingly passed, obliging every Yankee sloop which came

down through Hell Gate, and every Jersey market boat which was rowed

across from Paulus Hook to Cortlandt Street, to pay entrance fees and

obtain clearances at the custom-house, just as was done by ships from

London or Hamburg; and not a cart-load of Connecticut firewood could be

delivered at the back-door of a country-house in Beekman Street until it

should have paid a heavy duty. Great and just was the wrath of the

farmers and lumbermen. The New Jersey legislature made up its mind to

retaliate. The city of New York had lately bought a small patch of

ground on Sandy Hook, and had built a light-house there. This

light-house was the one weak spot in the heel of Achilles where a

hostile arrow could strike, and New Jersey gave vent to her indignation

by laying a tax of $1,800 a year on it. Connecticut was equally prompt.

At a great meeting of business men, held at New London, it was

unanimously agreed to suspend all commercial intercourse with New York.

Every merchant signed an agreement, under penalty of $250 for the first

offence, not to send any goods whatever into the hated state for a

period of twelve months. By such retaliatory measures, it was hoped that

New York might be compelled to rescind her odious enactment. But such

meetings and such resolves bore an ominous likeness to the meetings and

resolves which in the years before 1775 had heralded a state of war; and

but for the good work done by the federal convention another five years

would scarcely have elapsed before shots would have been fired and seeds

of perennial hatred sown on the shores that look toward Manhattan

Island.

[Sidenote: Disputes about territory; disasters in the valley of Wyoming,

1784.]

To these commercial disputes there were added disputes about territory.

The chronic quarrel between Connecticut and Pennsylvania over the valley

of Wyoming was decided in the autumn of 1782 by a special federal

court, appointed in accordance with the articles of confederation. The

prize was adjudged to Pennsylvania, and the government of Connecticut

submitted as gracefully as possible. But new troubles were in store for

the inhabitants of that beautiful region. The traces of the massacre of

1778 had disappeared, the houses had been rebuilt, new settlers had come

in, and the pretty villages had taken on their old look of contentment

and thrift, when in the spring of 1784 there came an accumulation of

disasters. During a very cold winter great quantities of snow had

fallen, and lay piled in huge masses on the mountain sides, until in

March a sudden thaw set in. The Susquehanna rose, and overflowed the

valley, and great blocks of ice drifted here and there, carrying death

and destruction with them. Houses, barns, and fences were swept away,

the cattle were drowned, the fruit trees broken down, the stores of food

destroyed, and over the whole valley there lay a stratum of gravel and

pebbles. The people were starving with cold and hunger, and President

Dickinson urged the legislature to send prompt relief to the sufferers.

But the hearts of the members were as flint, and their talk was

incredibly wicked. Not a penny would they give to help the accursed

Yankees. It served them right. If they had stayed in Connecticut, where

they belonged, they would have kept out of harm's way. And with a

blasphemy thinly veiled in phrases of pious unction, the desolation of

the valley was said to have been contrived by the Deity with the

express object of punishing these trespassers. But the cruelty of the

Pennsylvania legislature was not confined to words. A scheme was devised

for driving out the settlers and partitioning their lands among a

company of speculators. A force of militia was sent to Wyoming,

commanded by a truculent creature named Patterson. The ostensible

purpose was to assist in restoring order in the valley, but the

behaviour of the soldiers was such as would have disgraced a horde of

barbarians. They stole what they could find, dealt out blows to the men

and insults to the women, until their violence was met with violence in

return. Then Patterson sent a letter to President Dickinson, accusing

the farmers of sedition, and hinting that extreme measures were

necessary. Having thus, as he thought, prepared the way, he attacked the

settlement, turned some five hundred people out-of-doors, and burned

their houses to the ground. The wretched victims, many of them tender

women, or infirm old men, or little children, were driven into the

wilderness at the point of the bayonet, and told to find their way to

Connecticut without further delay. Heartrending scenes ensued. Many died

of exhaustion, or furnished food for wolves. But this was more than the

Pennsylvania legislature had intended. Patterson's zeal had carried him

too far. He was recalled, and the sheriff of Northumberland County was

sent, with a posse of men, to protect the settlers. Patterson disobeyed,

however, and withdrawing his men to a fortified lair in the mountains,

kept up a guerilla warfare. All the Connecticut men in the neighbouring

country flew to arms. Men were killed on both sides, and presently

Patterson was besieged. A regiment of soldiers was then sent from

Philadelphia, under Colonel Armstrong, who had formerly been on Gates's

staff, the author of the incendiary Newburgh address. On arriving in the

valley, Armstrong held a parley with the Connecticut men, and persuaded

them to lay down their arms; assuring them on his honour that they

should meet with no ill treatment, and that their enemy, Patterson,

should be disarmed also. Having thus fallen into this soldier's

clutches, they were forthwith treated as prisoners. Seventy-six of them

were handcuffed and sent under guard, some to Easton and some to

Northumberland, where they were thrown into jail.

Great was the indignation in New England when these deeds were heard of.

The matter had become very serious. A war between Connecticut and

Pennsylvania might easily grow out of it. But the danger was averted

through a very singular feature in the Pennsylvania constitution. In

order to hold its legislature in check, Pennsylvania had a council of

censors, which was assembled once in seven years in order to inquire

whether the state had been properly governed during the interval. Soon

after the troubles in Wyoming the regular meeting of the censors was

held, and the conduct of Armstrong and Patterson was unreservedly

condemned. A hot controversy ensued between the legislature and the

censors, and as the people set great store by the latter peculiar

institution, public sympathy was gradually awakened for the sufferers.

The wickedness of the affair began to dawn upon people's minds, and

they were ashamed of what had been done. Patterson and Armstrong were

frowned down, the legislature disavowed their acts, and it was ordered

that full reparation should be made to the persecuted settlers of

Wyoming.[4]

[Sidenote: Troubles in the Green Mountains, 1777-84.]

In the Green Mountains and on the upper waters of the Connecticut there

had been trouble for many years. In the course of the Revolutionary War,

the fierce dispute between New York and New Hampshire for the possession

of the Green Mountains came in from time to time to influence most

curiously the course of events. It was closely connected with the

intrigues against General Schuyler, and thus more remotely with the

Conway cabal and the treason of Arnold. About the time of Burgoyne's

invasion the association of Green Mountain Boys endeavoured to cut the

Gordian knot by declaring Vermont an independent state, and applying to

the Continental Congress for admission into the Union. The New York

delegates in Congress succeeded in defeating this scheme, but the

Vermont people went on and framed their constitution. Thomas Chittenden,

a man of rough manners but very considerable ability, a farmer and

innkeeper, like Israel Putnam, was chosen governor, and held that

position for many years. New Hampshire thus far had not actively opposed

these measures, but fresh grounds of quarrel were soon at hand. Several

towns on the east bank of the Connecticut River wished to escape from

the jurisdiction of New Hampshire. They preferred to belong to Vermont,

because it was not within the Union, and accordingly not liable to

requisitions of taxes from the Continental Congress. It was conveniently

remembered that by the original grant, in the reign of Charles II., New

Hampshire extended only sixty miles from the coast. Vermont was at first

inclined to assent, but finding the scheme unpopular in Congress, and

not wishing to offend that body, she changed her mind. The towns on both

banks of the river then tried to organize themselves into a middle

state,--a sort of Lotharingia on the banks of this New World Rhine,--to

be called New Connecticut. By this time New Hampshire was aroused, and

she called attention to the fact that she still believed herself

entitled to dominion over the whole of Vermont. Massachusetts now began

to suspect that the upshot of the matter would be the partition of the

whole disputed territory between New Hampshire and New York, and,

ransacking her ancient grants and charters, she decided to set up a

claim on her own part to the southernmost towns in Vermont. Thus goaded

on all sides, Vermont adopted an aggressive policy. She not only annexed

the towns east of the Connecticut River, but also asserted sovereignty

over the towns in New York as far as the Hudson. New York sent troops to

the threatened frontier, New Hampshire prepared to do likewise, and for

a moment war seemed inevitable. But here, as in so many other instances,

Washington appeared as peace-maker, and prevailed upon Governor

Chittenden to use his influence in getting the dangerous claims

withdrawn. After the spring of 1784 the outlook was less stormy in the

Green Mountains. The conflicting claims were allowed to lie dormant, but

the possibilities of mischief remained, and the Vermont question was not

finally settled until after the adoption of the Federal Constitution.

Meanwhile, on the debatable frontier between Vermont and New York the

embers of hatred smouldered. Barns and houses were set on fire, and

belated wayfarers were found mysteriously murdered in the depths of the

forest.

[Sidenote: One nation or thirteen?]

Incidents like these of Wyoming and Vermont seem trivial, perhaps, when

contrasted with the lurid tales of border warfare in older times between

half-civilized peoples of mediæval Europe, as we read them in the pages

of Froissart and Sir Walter Scott. But their historic lesson is none the

less clear. Though they lift the curtain but a little way, they show us

a glimpse of the untold dangers and horrors from which the adoption of

our Federal Constitution has so thoroughly freed us that we can only

with some effort realize how narrowly we have escaped them. It is fit

that they should be borne in mind, that we may duly appreciate the

significance of the reign of law and order which has been established on

this continent during the greater part of a century. When reported in

Europe, such incidents were held to confirm the opinion that the

American confederacy was going to pieces. With quarrels about trade and

quarrels about boundaries, we seemed to be treading the old-fashioned

paths of anarchy, even as they had been trodden in other ages and other

parts of the world. It was natural that people in Europe should think

so, because there was no historic precedent to help them in forming a

different opinion. No one could possibly foresee that within five years

a number of gentlemen at Philadelphia, containing among themselves a

greater amount of political sagacity than had ever before been brought

together within the walls of a single room, would amicably discuss the

situation and agree upon a new system of government whereby the dangers

might be once for all averted. Still less could any one foresee that

these gentlemen would not only agree upon a scheme among themselves, but

would actually succeed, without serious civil dissension, in making the

people of thirteen states adopt, defend, and cherish it. History

afforded no example of such a gigantic act of constructive

statesmanship. It was, moreover, a strange and apparently fortuitous

combination of circumstances that were now preparing the way for it and

making its accomplishment possible. No one could forecast the future.

When our ministers and agents in Europe raised the question as to making

commercial treaties, they were disdainfully asked whether European

powers were expected to deal with thirteen governments or with one. If

it was answered that the United States constituted a single government

so far as their relations with foreign powers were concerned, then we

were forthwith twitted with our failure to keep our engagements with

England with regard to the loyalists and the collection of private

debts. Yes, we see, said the European diplomats; the United States are

one nation to-day and thirteen to-morrow, according as may seem to

subserve their selfish interests. Jefferson, at Paris, was told again

and again that it was useless for the French government to enter into

any agreement with the United States, as there was no certainty that it

would be fulfilled on our part; and the same things were said all over

Europe. Toward the close of the war most of the European nations had

seemed ready to enter into commercial arrangements with the United

States, but all save Holland speedily lost interest in the subject. John

Adams had succeeded in making a treaty with Holland in 1782. Frederick

the Great treated us more civilly than other sovereigns. One of the last

acts of his life was to conclude a treaty for ten years with the United

States; asserting the principle that free ships make free goods, taking

arms and military stores out of the class of contraband, agreeing to

refrain from privateering even in case of war between the two countries,

and in other respects showing a liberal and enlightened spirit.

[Sidenote: Failure of American credit; John Adams begging in Holland,

1784.]

This treaty was concluded in 1786. It scarcely touched the subject of

international trade in time of peace, but it was valuable as regarded

the matters it covered, and in the midst of the general failure of

American diplomacy in Europe it fell pleasantly upon our ears. Our

diplomacy had failed because our weakness had been proclaimed to the

world. We were bullied by England, insulted by France and Spain, and

looked askance at in Holland. The humiliating position in which our

ministers were placed by the beggarly poverty of Congress was something

almost beyond credence. It was by no means unusual for the

superintendent of finance, when hard pushed for money, to draw upon our

foreign ministers, and then sell the drafts for cash. This was not only

not unusual; it was an established custom. It was done again and again,

when there was not the smallest ground for supposing that the minister

upon whom the draft was made would have any funds wherewith to meet it.

He must go and beg the money. That was part of his duty as envoy,--to

solicit loans without security for a government that could not raise

enough money by taxation to defray its current expenses. It was

sickening work. Just before John Adams had been appointed minister to

England, and while he was visiting in London, he suddenly learned that

drafts upon him had been presented to his bankers in Amsterdam to the

amount of more than a million florins. Less than half a million florins

were on hand to meet these demands, and unless something were done at

once the greater part of this paper would go back to America protested.

Adams lost not a moment in starting for Holland. In these modern days of

precision in travel, when we can translate space into time, the distance

between London and Amsterdam is eleven hours. It was accomplished by

Adams, after innumerable delays and vexations and no little danger, in

fifty-four days. The bankers had contrived, by ingenious excuses, to

keep the drafts from going to protest until the minister's arrival, but

the gazettes were full of the troubles of Congress and the bickerings

of the states, and everybody was suspicious. Adams applied in vain to

the regency of Amsterdam. The promise of the American government was not

regarded as valid security for a sum equivalent to about three hundred

thousand dollars. The members of the regency were polite, but

inexorable. They could not make a loan on such terms; it was

unbusinesslike and contrary to precedent. Finding them immovable, Adams

was forced to apply to professional usurers and Jew brokers, from whom,

after three weeks of perplexity and humiliation, he obtained a loan at

exorbitant interest, and succeeded in meeting the drafts. It was only

too plain, as he mournfully confessed, that American credit was dead.

Such were the trials of our American ministers in Europe in the dark

days of the League of Friendship. It was not a solitary, but a typical,

instance. John Jay's experience at the unfriendly court of Spain was

perhaps even more trying.

[Sidenote: The Barbary pirates.]

European governments might treat us with cold disdain, and European

bankers might pronounce our securities worthless, but there was one

quarter of the world from which even worse measure was meted out to us.

Of all the barbarous communities with which the civilized world has had

to deal in modern times, perhaps none have made so much trouble as the

Mussulman states on the southern shore of the Mediterranean. After the

breaking up of the great Moorish kingdoms of the Middle Ages, this

region had fallen under the nominal control of the Turkish sultans as

lords paramount of the orthodox Mohammedan world. Its miserable

populations became the prey of banditti. Swarms of half-savage

chieftains settled down upon the land like locusts, and out of such a

pandemonium of robbery and murder as has scarcely been equalled in

historic times the pirate states of Morocco and Algiers, Tunis and

Tripoli, gradually emerged. Of these communities history has not one

good word to say. In these fair lands, once illustrious for the genius

and virtues of a Hannibal and the profound philosophy of St. Augustine,

there grew up some of the most terrible despotisms ever known to the

world. The things done daily by the robber sovereigns were such as to

make a civilized imagination recoil with horror. One of these cheerful

creatures, who reigned in the middle of the eighteenth century, and was

called Muley Abdallah, especially prided himself on his peculiar skill

in mounting a horse. Resting his left hand upon the horse's neck, as he

sprang into the saddle he simultaneously swung the sharp scimiter in his

right hand so deftly as to cut off the head of the groom who held the

bridle. From his behaviour in these sportive moods one may judge what he

was capable of on serious occasions. He was a fair sample of the Barbary

monarchs. The foreign policy of these wretches was summed up in piracy

and blackmail. Their corsairs swept the Mediterranean and ventured far

out upon the ocean, capturing merchant vessels, and murdering or

enslaving their crews. Of the rich booty, a fixed proportion was paid

over to the robber sovereign, and the rest was divided among the gang.

So lucrative was this business that it attracted hardy ruffians from

all parts of Europe, and the misery they inflicted upon mankind during

four centuries was beyond calculation. One of their favourite practices

was the kidnapping of eminent or wealthy persons, in the hope of

extorting ransom. Cervantes and Vincent de Paul were among the

celebrated men who thus tasted the horrors of Moorish slavery; but it

was a calamity that might fall to the lot of any man, or woman, and it

was but rarely that the victims ever regained their freedom.

[Sidenote: American citizens kidnapped.]

Against these pirates the governments of Europe contended in vain. Swift

cruisers frequently captured their ships, and from the days of Joan of

Arc down to the days of Napoleon their skeletons swung from long rows of

gibbets on all the coasts of Europe, as a terror and a warning. But

their losses were easily repaired, and sometimes they cruised in fleets

of seventy or eighty sail, defying the navies of England and France. It

was not until after England, in Nelson's time, had acquired supremacy in

the Mediterranean that this dreadful scourge was destroyed. Americans,

however, have just ground for pride in recollecting that their

government was foremost in chastising these pirates in their own

harbours. The exploits of our little navy in the Mediterranean at the

beginning of the present century form an interesting episode in American

history, but in the weak days of the Confederation our commerce was

plundered with impunity, and American citizens were seized and sold into

slavery in the markets of Algiers and Tripoli. One reason for the long

survival of this villainy was the low state of humanity among European

nations. An Englishman's sympathy was but feebly aroused by the plunder

of Frenchmen, and the bigoted Spaniard looked on with approval so long

as it was Protestants that were kidnapped and bastinadoed. In 1783 Lord

Sheffield published a pamphlet on the commerce of the United States, in

which he shamelessly declared that the Barbary pirates were really

useful to the great maritime powers, because they tended to keep the

weaker nations out of their share in the carrying trade. This, he

thought, was a valuable offset to the Empress Catherine's device of the

armed neutrality, whereby small nations were protected; and on this

wicked theory, as Franklin tells us, London merchants had been heard to

say that "if there were no Algiers, it would be worth England's while to

build one." It was largely because of such feelings that the great

states of Europe so long persisted in the craven policy of paying

blackmail to the robbers, instead of joining in a crusade and destroying

them.

[Sidenote: Tripoli demands blackmail, Feb. 1786.]

In 1786 Congress felt it necessary to take measures for protecting the

lives and liberties of American citizens. The person who called himself

"Emperor" of Morocco at that time was different from most of his kind.

He had a taste for reading, and had thus caught a glimmering of the

enlightened liberalism which French philosophers were preaching. He

wished to be thought a benevolent despot, and with Morocco, accordingly,

Congress succeeded in making a treaty. But nothing could be done with

the other pirate states without paying blackmail. Few scenes in our

history are more amusing, or more irritating, than the interview of John

Adams with an envoy from Tripoli in London. The oily-tongued barbarian,

with his soft voice and his bland smile, asseverating that his only

interest in life was to do good and make other people happy, stands out

in fine contrast with the blunt, straightforward, and truthful New

Englander; and their conversation reminds one of the old story of

Coeur-de-Lion with his curtal-axe and Saladin with the blade that cut

the silken cushion. Adams felt sure that the fellow was either saint or

devil, but could not quite tell which. The envoy's love for mankind was

so great that he could not bear the thought of hostility between the

Americans and the Barbary States, and he suggested that everything might

be happily arranged for a million dollars or so. Adams thought it better

to fight than to pay tribute. It would be cheaper in the end, as well as

more manly. At the same time, it was better economy to pay a million

dollars at once than waste many times that sum in war risks and loss of

trade. But Congress could do neither one thing nor the other. It was too

poor to build a navy, and too poor to buy off the pirates; and so for

several years to come American ships were burned and American sailors

enslaved with utter impunity. With the memory of such wrongs deeply

graven in his heart, it was natural that John Adams, on becoming

president of the United States, should bend his energies toward founding

a strong American navy.

[Sidenote: Congress unable to protect American citizens.]

A government touches the lowest point of ignominy when it confesses its

inability to protect the lives and property of its citizens. A

government which has come to this has failed in discharging the primary

function of government, and forthwith ceases to have any reason for

existing. In March, 1786, Grayson wrote to Madison that several members

of Congress thought seriously of recommending a general convention for

remodelling the government. "I have not made up my mind," says Grayson,

"whether it would not be better to bear the ills we have than fly to

those we know not of. I am, however, in no doubt about the weakness of

the federal government. If it remains much longer in its present state

of imbecility, we shall be one of the most contemptible nations on the

face of the earth." "It is clear to me as A, B, C," said Washington,

"that an extension of federal powers would make us one of the most

happy, wealthy, respectable, and powerful nations that ever inhabited

the terrestrial globe. Without them we shall soon be everything which is

the direct reverse. I predict the worst consequences from a

half-starved, limping government, always moving upon crutches and

tottering at every step."

[Sidenote: Financial distress precipitates the political crisis.]

There is no telling how long the wretched state of things which followed

the Revolution might have continued, had not the crisis been

precipitated by the wild attempts of the several states to remedy the

distress of the people by legislation. That financial distress was

widespread and deep-seated was not to be denied. At the beginning of the

war the amount of accumulated capital in the country had been very

small. The great majority of the people did little more than get from

the annual yield of their farms or plantations enough to meet the

current expenses of the year. Outside of agriculture the chief resources

were the carrying trade, the exchange of commodities with England and

the West Indies, and the cod and whale fisheries; and in these

occupations many people had grown rich. The war had destroyed all these

sources of revenue. Imports and exports had alike been stopped, so that

there was a distressing scarcity of some of the commonest household

articles. The enemy's navy had kept us from the fisheries. Before the

war, the dock-yards of Nantucket were ringing with the busy sound of

adze and hammer, rope-walks covered the island, and two hundred keels

sailed yearly in quest of spermaceti. At the return of peace, the docks

were silent and grass grew in the streets. The carrying trade and the

fisheries began soon to revive, but it was some years before the old

prosperity was restored. The war had also wrought serious damage to

agriculture, and in some parts of the country the direct destruction of

property by the enemy's troops had been very great. To all these causes

of poverty there was added the hopeless confusion due to an

inconvertible paper currency. The worst feature of this financial device

is that it not only impoverishes people, but bemuddles their brains by

creating a false and fleeting show of prosperity. By violently

disturbing apparent values, it always brings on an era of wild

speculation and extravagance in living, followed by sudden collapse and

protracted suffering. In such crises the poorest people, those who earn

their bread by the sweat of their brows and have no margin of

accumulated capital, always suffer the most. Above all men, it is the

labouring man who needs sound money and steady values. We have seen all

these points amply illustrated since the War of Secession. After the War

of Independence, when the margin of accumulated capital was so much

smaller, the misery was much greater. While the paper money lasted there

was marked extravagance in living, and complaints were loud against the

speculators, especially those who operated in bread-stuffs. Washington

said he would like to hang them all on a gallows higher than that of

Haman; but they were, after all, but the inevitable products of this

abnormal state of things, and the more guilty criminals were the

demagogues who went about preaching the doctrine that the poor man needs

cheap money. After the collapse of this continental currency in 1780, it

seemed as if there were no money in the country, and at the peace the

renewal of trade with England seemed at first to make matters worse. The

brisk importation of sorely needed manufactured goods, which then began,

would naturally have been paid for in the south by indigo, rice, and

tobacco, in the middle states by exports of wheat and furs, and in New

England by the profits of the fisheries, the shipping, and the West

India trade. But in the southern and middle states the necessary revival

of agriculture could not be effected in a moment, and British

legislation against American shipping and the West India trade fell with

crippling force upon New England. Consequently, we had little else but

specie with which to pay for imports, and the country was soon drained

of what little specie there was. In the absence of a circulating medium

there was a reversion to the practice of barter, and the revival of

business was thus further impeded. Whiskey in North Carolina, tobacco in

Virginia, did duty as measures of value; and Isaiah Thomas, editor of

the Worcester "Spy," announced that he would receive subscriptions for

his paper in salt pork.

[Sidenote: State of the coinage.]

It is worth while, in this connection, to observe what this specie was,

the scarcity of which created so much embarrassment. Until 1785 no

national coinage was established, and none was issued until 1793.

English, French, Spanish, and German coins, of various and uncertain

value, passed from hand to hand. Beside the ninepences and

fourpence-ha'-pennies, there were bits and half-bits, pistareens,

picayunes, and fips. Of gold pieces there were the johannes, or joe, the

doubloon, the moidore, and pistole, with English and French guineas,

carolins, ducats, and chequins. Of coppers there were English pence and

halfpence and French sous; and pennies were issued at local mints in

Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. The

English shilling had everywhere degenerated in value, but differently in

different localities; and among silver pieces the Spanish dollar, from

Louisiana and Cuba, had begun to supersede it as a measure of value. In

New England the shilling had sunk from nearly one fourth to one sixth of

a dollar; in New York to one eighth; in North Carolina to one tenth. It

was partly for this reason that in devising a national coinage the more

uniform dollar was adopted as the unit. At the same time the decimal

system of division was adopted instead of the cumbrous English system,

and the result was our present admirably simple currency, which we owe

to Gouverneur Morris, aided as to some points by Thomas Jefferson.

During the period of the Confederation, the chaotic state of the

currency was a serious obstacle to trade, and it afforded endless

opportunities for fraud and extortion. Clipping and counterfeiting were

carried to such lengths that every moderately cautious person, in taking

payment in hard cash, felt it necessary to keep a small pair of scales

beside him and carefully weigh each coin, after narrowly scrutinizing

its stamp and deciphering its legend.

[Sidenote: Cost of the war; Robert Morris and his immense services.]

In view of all these complicated impediments to business on the morrow

of a long and costly war, it was not strange that the whole country was

in some measure pauperized. The cost of the war, estimated in cash, had

been about $170,000,000--a huge sum if we consider the circumstances of

the country at that time. To meet this crushing indebtedness Mr.

Hildreth reckons the total amount raised by the states, whether by means

of repudiated paper or of taxes, down to 1784, as not more than

$30,000,000. No wonder if the issue of such a struggle seemed quite

hopeless. In many parts of the country, by the year 1786, the payment of

taxes had come to be regarded as an amiable eccentricity. At one

moment, early in 1782, there was not a single dollar in the treasury.

That the government had in any way been able to finish the war, after

the downfall of its paper money, was due to the gigantic efforts of one

great man,--Robert Morris, of Pennsylvania. This statesman was born in

England, but he had come to Philadelphia in his boyhood, and had amassed

an enormous fortune, which he devoted without stint to the service of

his adopted country. Though opposed to the Declaration of Independence

as rash and premature, he had, nevertheless, signed his name to that

document, and scarcely any one had contributed more to the success of

the war. It was he who supplied the money which enabled Washington to

complete the great campaign of Trenton and Princeton. In 1781 he was

made superintendent of finance, and by dint of every imaginable device

of hard-pressed ingenuity he contrived to support the brilliant work

which began at the Cowpens and ended at Yorktown. He established the

Bank of North America as an instrument by which government loans might

be negotiated. Sometimes his methods were such as doctors call heroic,

as when he made sudden drafts upon our ministers in Europe after the

manner already described. In every dire emergency he was Washington's

chief reliance, and in his devotion to the common weal he drew upon his

private resources until he became poor; and in later years--for shame be

it said--an ungrateful nation allowed one of its noblest and most

disinterested champions to languish in a debtor's prison. It was of ill

omen for the fortunes of the weak and disorderly Confederation that in

1784, after three years of herculean struggle with impossibilities, this

stout heart and sagacious head could no longer weather the storm. The

task of creating wealth out of nothing had become too arduous and too

thankless to be endured. Robert Morris resigned his place, and it was

taken by a congressional committee of finance, under whose management

the disorders only hurried to a crisis.

[Sidenote: The craze for paper-money, 1786.]

By 1786, under the universal depression and want of confidence, all

trade had well-nigh stopped, and political quackery, with its cheap and

dirty remedies, had full control of the field. In the very face of

miseries so plainly traceable to the deadly paper currency, it may seem

strange that people should now have begun to clamour for a renewal of

the experiment which had worked so much evil. Yet so it was. As starving

men are said to dream of dainty banquets, so now a craze for fictitious

wealth in the shape of paper money ran like an epidemic through the

country. There was a Barmecide feast of economic vagaries; only now it

was the several states that sought to apply the remedy, each in its own

way. And when we have threaded the maze of this rash legislation, we

shall the better understand that clause in our federal constitution

which forbids the making of laws impairing the obligation of contracts.

The events of 1786 impressed upon men's minds more forcibly than ever

the wretched and disorderly condition of the country, and went far

toward calling into existence the needful popular sentiment in favour of

an overruling central government.

[Sidenote: Agitation in southern and middle states.]

The disorders assumed very different forms in the different states, and

brought out a great diversity of opinion as to the causes of the

distress and the efficacy of the proposed remedies. Only two states out

of the thirteen--Connecticut and Delaware--escaped the infection, but,

on the other hand, it was only in seven states that the paper money

party prevailed in the legislatures. North Carolina issued a large

amount of paper, and, in order to get it into circulation as quickly as

possible, the state government proceeded to buy tobacco with it, paying

double the specie value of the tobacco. As a natural consequence, the

paper dollar instantly fell to seventy cents, and went on declining. In

South Carolina an issue was tried somewhat more cautiously, but the

planters soon refused to take the paper at its face value. Coercive

measures were then attempted. Planters and merchants were urged to sign

a pledge not to discriminate between paper and gold, and if any one

dared refuse the fanatics forthwith attempted to make it hot for him. A

kind of "Kuklux" society was organized at Charleston, known as the "Hint

Club." Its purpose was to hint to such people that they had better look

out. If they did not mend their ways, it was unnecessary to inform them

more explicitly what they might expect. Houses were combustible then as

now, and the use of firearms was well understood. In Georgia the

legislature itself attempted coercion. Paper money was made a legal

tender in spite of strong opposition, and a law was passed prohibiting

any planter or merchant from exporting any produce without taking

affidavit that he had never refused to receive this scrip at its full

face value. But somehow people found that the more it was sought to keep

up the paper by dint of threats and forcing acts, the faster its value

fell. Virginia had issued bills of credit during the campaign of 1781,

but it was enacted at the same time that they should not be a legal

tender after the next January. The influence of Washington, Madison, and

Mason was effectively brought to bear in favour of sound currency, and

the people of Virginia were but slightly affected by the craze of 1786.

In the autumn of that year a proposition from two counties for an issue

of paper was defeated in the legislature by a vote of eighty-five to

seventeen, and no more was heard of the matter. In Maryland, after a

very obstinate fight, a rag money bill was carried in the house of

representatives, but the senate threw it out; and the measure was thus

postponed until the discussion over the federal constitution superseded

it in popular interest. Pennsylvania had warily begun in May, 1785, to

issue a million dollars in bills of credit, which were not made a legal

tender for the payment of private debts. They were mainly loaned to

farmers on mortgage, and were received by the state as an equivalent for

specie in the payment of taxes. By August, 1786, even this carefully

guarded paper had fallen some twelve cents below par,--not a bad showing

for such a year as that. New York moved somewhat less cautiously. A

million dollars were issued in bills of credit receivable for the

custom-house duties, which were then paid into the state treasury; and

these bills were made a legal tender for all money received in lawsuits.

At the same time the New Jersey legislature passed a bill for issuing

half a million paper dollars, to be a legal tender in all business

transactions. The bill was vetoed by the governor in council. The aged

Governor Livingston was greatly respected by the people; and so the mob

at Elizabethtown, which had duly planted a stake and dragged his effigy

up to it, refrained from inflicting the last indignities upon the image,

and burned that of one of the members of the council instead. At the

next session the governor yielded, and the rag money was issued. But an

unforeseen difficulty arose. Most of the dealings of New Jersey people

were in the cities of New York and Philadelphia, and in both cities the

merchants refused their paper, so that it speedily became worthless.

The business of exchange was thus fast getting into hopeless confusion.

It has been said of Bradshaw's Railway Guide, the indispensable

companion of the traveller in England, that no man can study it for an

hour without qualifying himself for an insane asylum. But Bradshaw is

pellucid clearness compared with the American tables of exchange in

1786, with their medley of dollars and shillings, moidores and

pistareens. The addition of half a dozen different kinds of paper

created such a labyrinth as no human intellect could explore. No wonder

that men were counted wise who preferred to take whiskey and pork

instead. Nobody who had a yard of cloth to sell could tell how much it

was worth. But even worse than all this was the swift and certain

renewal of bankruptcy which so many states were preparing for

themselves.

[Sidenote: Distress in New England.]

Nowhere did the warning come so quickly or so sharply as in New England.

Connecticut, indeed, as already observed, came off scot-free. She had

issued a little paper money soon after the battle of Lexington, but had

stopped it about the time of the surrender of Burgoyne. In 1780 she had

wisely and summarily adjusted all relations between debtor and creditor,

and the crisis of 1786 found her people poor enough, no doubt, but able

to wait for better times and indisposed to adopt violent remedies. It

was far otherwise in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. These were

preëminently the maritime states of the Union, and upon them the blows

aimed by England at American commerce had fallen most severely. It was

these two maritime states that suffered most from the cutting down of

the carrying trade and the restriction of intercourse with the West

Indies. These things worked injury to shipbuilding, to the exports of

lumber and oil and salted fish, even to the manufacture of Medford rum.

Nowhere had the normal machinery of business been thrown out of gear so

extensively as in these two states, and in Rhode Island there was the

added disturbance due to a prolonged occupation by the enemy's troops.

Nowhere, perhaps, was there a larger proportion of the population in

debt, and in these preëminently commercial communities private debts

were a heavier burden and involved more personal suffering than in the

somewhat patriarchal system of life in Virginia or South Carolina. In

the time of which we are now treating, imprisonment for debt was common.

High-minded but unfortunate men were carried to jail, and herded with

thieves and ruffians in loathsome dungeons, for the crime of owing a

hundred dollars which they could not promptly pay. Under such

circumstances, a commercial disturbance, involving widespread debt,

entailed an amount of personal suffering and humiliation of which, in

these kinder days, we can form no adequate conception. It tended to make

the debtor an outlaw, ready to entertain schemes for the subversion of

society. In the crisis of 1786, the agitation in Rhode Island and

Massachusetts reached white heat, and things were done which alarmed the

whole country. But the course of events was different in the two states.

In Rhode Island the agitators obtained control of the government, and

the result was a paroxysm of tyranny. In Massachusetts the agitators

failed to secure control of the government, and the result was a

paroxysm of rebellion.

[Sidenote: Rag money victorious in Rhode Island; the "Know Ye"

measures.]

The debates over paper money in the Rhode Island legislature began in

1785, but the advocates of a sound currency were victorious. These men

were roundly abused in the newspapers, and in the next spring election

most of them lost their seats. The legislature of 1786 showed an

overwhelming majority in favor of paper money. The farmers from the

inland towns were unanimous in supporting the measure. They could not

see the difference between the state making a dollar out of paper and a

dollar out of silver. The idea that the value did not lie in the

government stamp they dismissed as an idle crotchet, a wire-drawn

theory, worthy only of "literary fellows." What they could see was the

glaring fact that they had no money, hard or soft; and they wanted

something that would satisfy their creditors and buy new gowns for their

wives, whose raiment was unquestionably the worse for wear. On the other

hand, the merchants from seaports like Providence, Newport, and Bristol

understood the difference between real money and the promissory notes of

a bankrupt government, but they were in a hopeless minority. Half a

million dollars were issued in scrip, to be loaned to the farmers on a

mortgage of their real estate. No one could obtain the scrip without

giving a mortgage for twice the amount, and it was thought that this

security would make it as good as gold. But the depreciation began

instantly. When the worthy farmers went to the store for dry goods or

sugar, and found the prices rising with dreadful rapidity, they were at

first astonished, and then enraged. The trouble, as they truly said, was

with the wicked merchants, who would not take the paper dollars at their

face value. These men were thus thwarting the government, and must be

punished. An act was accordingly hurried through the legislature,

commanding every one to take paper as an equivalent for gold, under

penalty of five hundred dollars fine and loss of the right of suffrage.

The merchants in the cities thereupon shut up their shops. During the

summer of 1786 all business was at a standstill in Newport and

Providence, except in the bar-rooms. There and about the market-places

men spent their time angrily discussing politics, and scarcely a day

passed without street-fights, which at times grew into riots. In the

country, too, no less than in the cities, the goddess of discord

reigned. The farmers determined to starve the city people into

submission, and they entered into an agreement not to send any produce

into the cities until the merchants should open their shops and begin

selling their goods for paper at its face value. Not wishing to lose

their pigs and butter and grain, they tried to dispose of them in Boston

and New York, and in the coast towns of Connecticut. But in all these

places their proceedings had awakened such lively disgust that placards

were posted in the taverns warning purchasers against farm produce from

Rhode Island. Disappointed in these quarters, the farmers threw away

their milk, used their corn for fuel, and let their apples rot on the

ground, rather than supply the detested merchants. Food grew scarce in

Providence and Newport, and in the latter city a mob of sailors

attempted unsuccessfully to storm the provision stores. The farmers were

threatened with armed violence. Town-meetings were held all over the

state, to discuss the situation, and how long they might have talked to

no purpose none can say, when all at once the matter was brought into

court. A cabinet-maker in Newport named Trevett went into a meat-market

kept by one John Weeden, and selecting a joint of meat, offered paper in

payment. Weeden refused to take the paper except at a heavy discount.

Trevett went to bed supperless, and next morning informed against the

obstinate butcher for disobedience to the forcing act. Should the court

find him guilty, it would be a good speculation for Trevett, for half of

the five hundred dollars fine was to go to the informer. Hard-money men

feared lest the court might prove subservient to the legislature, since

that body possessed the power of removing the five judges. The case was

tried in September amid furious excitement. Huge crowds gathered about

the court-house and far down the street, screaming and cheering like a

crowd on the night of a presidential election. The judges were

clear-headed men, not to be browbeaten. They declared the forcing act

unconstitutional, and dismissed the complaint. Popular wrath then turned

upon them. A special session of the legislature was convened, four of

the judges were removed, and a new forcing-act was prepared. This act

provided that no man could vote at elections or hold any office without

taking a test oath promising to receive paper money at par. But this was

going too far. Many soft-money men were not wild enough to support such

a measure; among the farmers there were some who had grown tired of

seeing their produce spoiled on their hands; and many of the richest

merchants had announced their intention of moving out of the state. The

new forcing act accordingly failed to pass, and presently the old one

was repealed. The paper dollar had been issued in May; in November it

passed for sixteen cents.

These outrageous proceedings awakened disgust and alarm among sensible

people in all the other states, and Rhode Island was everywhere reviled

and made fun of. One clause of the forcing act had provided that if a

debtor should offer paper to his creditor and the creditor should refuse

to take it at par, the debtor might carry his rag money to court and

deposit it with the judge; and the judge must thereupon issue a

certificate discharging the debt. The form of certificate began with the

words "Know Ye," and forthwith the unhappy little state was nicknamed

Rogues' Island, the home of Know Ye men and Know Ye measures.

[Sidenote: Rag money defeated in Massachusetts; the Shays insurrection,

Aug. 1786-Feb. 1787.]

While the scorn of the people was thus poured out upon Rhode Island,

much sympathy was felt for the government of Massachusetts, which was

called upon thus early to put down armed rebellion. The pressure of debt

was keenly felt in the rural districts of Massachusetts. It is estimated

that the private debts in the state amounted to some $7,000,000, and the

state's arrears to the federal government amounted to some $7,000,000

more. Adding to these sums the arrears of bounties due to the soldiers,

and the annual cost of the state, county, and town governments, there

was reached an aggregate equivalent to a tax of more than $50 on every

man, woman, and child in this population of 379,000 souls. Upon every

head of a family the average burden was some $200 at a time when most

farmers would have thought such a sum yearly a princely income. In those

days of scarcity most of them did not set eyes on so much as $50 in the

course of a year, and happy was he who had tucked away two or three

golden guineas or moidores in an old stocking, and sewed up the treasure

in his straw mattress or hidden it behind the bricks of the

chimney-piece. Under such circumstances the payment of debts and taxes

was out of the question; and as the same state of things made creditors

clamorous and ugly, the courts were crowded with lawsuits. The lawyers

usually contrived to get their money by exacting retainers in advance,

and the practice of champerty was common, whereby the lawyer did his

work in consideration of a percentage on the sum which was at last

forcibly collected. Homesteads were sold for the payment of foreclosed

mortgages, cattle were seized in distrainer, and the farmer himself was

sent to jail. The smouldering fires of wrath thus kindled found

expression in curses aimed at lawyers, judges, and merchants. The wicked

merchants bought foreign goods and drained the state of specie to pay

for them, while they drank Madeira wine and dressed their wives in fine

velvets and laces. So said the farmers; and city ladies, far kinder than

these railers deemed them, formed clubs, of which the members pledged

themselves to wear homespun,--a poor palliative for the deep-seated ills

of the time. In such mood were many of the villagers when in the summer

of 1786 they were overtaken by the craze for paper money. At the meeting

of the legislature in May, a petition came in from Bristol County,

praying for an issue of paper. The petitioners admitted that such money

was sure to deteriorate in value, and they doubted the wisdom of trying

to keep it up by forcing acts. Instead of this they would have the rate

of its deterioration regulated by law, so that a dollar might be worth

ninety cents to-day, and presently seventy cents, and by and by fifty

cents, and so on till it should go down to zero and be thrown overboard.

People would thus know what to expect, and it would be all right. The

delicious _naïveté_ of this argument did not prevail with the

legislature of Massachusetts, and soft money was frowned down by a vote

of ninety-nine to nineteen. Then a bill was brought in seeking to

reëstablish in legislation the ancient practice of barter, and make

horses and cows legal tender for debts; and this bill was crushed by

eighty-nine votes against thirty-five. At the same time this legislature

passed a bill to strengthen the federal government by a grant of

supplementary funds to Congress, and thus laid a further burden of taxes

upon the people.

There was an outburst of popular wrath. A convention at Hatfield in

August decided that the court of common pleas ought to be abolished,

that no funds should be granted to Congress, and that paper money should

be issued at once. Another convention at Lenox denounced such incendiary

measures, approved of supporting the federal government, and declared

that no good could come from the issue of paper money. But meanwhile the

angry farmers had resorted to violence. The legislature, they said, had

its sittings in Boston, under the influence of wicked lawyers and

merchants, and thus could not be expected to do the will of the people.

A cry went up that henceforth the law-makers must sit in some small

inland town, where jealous eyes might watch their proceedings. Meanwhile

the lawyers must be dealt with; and at Northampton, Worcester, Great

Barrington, and Concord the courts were broken up by armed mobs. At

Concord one Job Shattuck brought several hundred armed men into the town

and surrounded the court-house, while in a fierce harangue he declared

that the time had come for wiping out all debts. "Yes," squeaked a nasal

voice from the crowd,--"yes, Job, we know all about them two farms you

can't never pay for!" But this repartee did not save the judges, who

thought it best to flee from the town. At first the legislature deemed

it wise to take a lenient view of these proceedings, and it even went so

far as to promise to hold its next session out of Boston. But the

agitation had reached a point where it could not be stayed. In September

the supreme court was to sit at Springfield, and Governor Bowdoin sent a

force of 600 militia under General Shepard to protect it. They were

confronted by some 600 insurgents, under the leadership of Daniel Shays.

This man had been a captain in the Continental army, and in his force

were many of the penniless veterans whom Gates would fain have incited

to rebellion at Newburgh. Shays seems to have done what he could to

restrain his men from violence, but he was a poor creature, wanting

alike in courage and good faith. On the other hand the militia were

lacking in spirit. After a disorderly parley, with much cursing and

swearing, they beat a retreat, and the court was prevented from sitting.

Fresh riots followed at Worcester and Concord. A regiment of cavalry,

sent out by the governor, scoured Middlesex County, and, after a short

fight in the woods near Groton, captured Job Shattuck and dispersed his

men. But this only exasperated the insurgents. They assembled in

Worcester to the number of 1,200 or more, where they lived for two

months at free quarters, while Shays organized and drilled them.

[Sidenote: The insurrection suppressed by state troops.]

Meanwhile the habeas corpus act was suspended for eight months, and

Governor Bowdoin called out an army of 4,400 men, who were placed under

command of General Lincoln. As the state treasury was nearly empty, some

wealthy gentlemen in Boston subscribed the money needed for equipping

these troops, and about the middle of January, 1787, they were collected

at Worcester. The rebels had behaved shamefully, burning barns and

seizing all the plunder they could lay hands on. As their numbers

increased they found their military stores inadequate, and accordingly

they marched upon Springfield, with the intent to capture the federal

arsenal there, and provide themselves with muskets and cannon. General

Shepard held Springfield with 1,200 men, and on the 25th of January

Shays attacked him with a force of somewhat more than 2,000, hoping to

crush him and seize the arsenal before Lincoln could come to the rescue.

But his plan of attack was faulty, and as soon as his men began falling

under Shepard's fire a panic seized them, and they retreated in disorder

to Ludlow, and then to Amherst, setting fire to houses and robbing the

inhabitants. On the approach of Lincoln's army, three days later, Shays

retreated to Pelham, and planted his forces on two steep hills protected

at the bottom by huge snowdrifts. Lincoln advanced to Hadley and sought

to open negotiations with the rebels. They were reminded that a contest

with the state government was hopeless, and that they had already

incurred the penalty of death; but if they would now lay down their arms

and go home, a free pardon could be obtained for them. Shays seemed

willing to yield, and Saturday, the 3d of February, was appointed for a

conference between some of the leading rebels and some of the officers.

But this was only a stratagem. During the conference Shays decamped and

marched his men through Prescott and North Dana to Petersham. Toward

nightfall the trick was discovered, and Lincoln set his whole force in

motion over the mountain ridges of Shutesbury and New Salem. The day had

been mild, but during the night the thermometer dropped below zero and

an icy, cutting snow began to fall. There was great suffering during the

last ten miles, and indeed the whole march of thirty miles in thirteen

hours over steep and snow-covered roads was a worthy exploit for these

veterans of the Revolution. Shays and his men had not looked for such a

display of energy, and as they were getting their breakfast on Sunday

morning at Petersham they were taken by surprise. A few minutes sufficed

to scatter them in flight. A hundred and fifty, including Shays himself,

were taken prisoners. The rest fled in all directions, most of them to

Athol and Northfield, whence they made their way into Vermont. General

Lincoln then marched his troops into the mountains of Berkshire, where

disturbances still continued. On the 26th of February one Captain

Hamlin, with several hundred insurgents, plundered the town of

Stockbridge and carried off the leading citizens as hostages. He was

pursued as far as Sheffield, defeated there in a sharp skirmish, with a

loss of some thirty in killed and wounded, and his troops scattered.

This put an end to the insurrection in Massachusetts.

[Sidenote: Conduct of neighbouring states.]

During the autumn similar disturbances had occurred in the states to the

northward. At Exeter in New Hampshire and at Windsor and Rutland in

Vermont the courts had been broken up by armed mobs, and at Rutland

there had been bloodshed. When the Shays rebellion was put down,

Governor Bowdoin requested the neighbouring states to lend their aid in

bringing the insurgents to justice, and all complied with the request

except Vermont and Rhode Island. The legislature of Rhode Island

sympathized with the rebels, and refused to allow the governor to issue

a warrant for their arrest. On the other hand, the governor of Vermont

issued a proclamation out of courtesy toward Massachusetts, but he

caused it to be understood that this was but an empty form, as the state

of Vermont could not afford to discourage immigration! A feeling of

compassion for the insurgents was widely spread in Massachusetts. In

March the leaders were tried, and fourteen were convicted of treason and

sentenced to death; but Governor Bowdoin, whose term was about to

expire, granted a reprieve for a few weeks. At the annual election in

April the candidates for the governorship were Bowdoin and Hancock, and

it was generally believed that the latter would be more likely than the

former to pardon the convicted men. So strong was this feeling that,

although much gratitude was felt toward Bowdoin, to whose energetic

measures the prompt suppression of the rebellion was due, Hancock

obtained a large majority. When the question of a pardon came up for

discussion, Samuel Adams, who was then president of the senate, was

strongly opposed to it, and one of his arguments was very

characteristic. "In monarchies," he said, "the crime of treason and

rebellion may admit of being pardoned or lightly punished; but the man

who dares to rebel against the laws of a republic ought to suffer

death." This was Adams's sensitive point. He wanted the whole world to

realize that the rule of a republic is a rule of law and order, and that

liberty does not mean license. But in spite of this view, for which

there was much to be said, the clemency of the American temperament

prevailed, and Governor Hancock pardoned all the prisoners.

Nothing in the history of these disturbances is more instructive than

the light incidentally thrown upon the relations between Congress and

the state government. Just before the news of the rout at Petersham,

Samuel Adams had proposed in the senate that the governor should be

requested to write to Congress and inform that body of what was going on

in Massachusetts, stating that "although the legislature are firmly

persuaded that ... in all probability they will be able speedily and

effectively to suppress the rebellion, yet, if any unforeseen event

should take place which may frustrate the measures of government, they

rely upon such support from the United States as is expressly and

solemnly stipulated by the articles of confederation." A resolution to

this effect was carried in the senate, but defeated in the house through

the influence of western county members in sympathy with the insurgents;

and incredible as it may seem, the argument was freely used that it was

incompatible with the dignity of Massachusetts to allow United States

troops to set foot upon her soil. When we reflect that the arsenal at

Springfield, where the most considerable disturbance occurred, was

itself federal property, the climax of absurdity might seem to have been

reached.

[Sidenote: Congress afraid to interfere.]

It was left for Congress itself, however, to cap that climax. The

progress of the insurrection in the autumn in Vermont, New Hampshire,

and Massachusetts, as well as the troubles in Rhode Island, had alarmed

the whole country. It was feared that the insurgents in these states

might join forces, and in some way kindle a flame that would run through

the land. Accordingly Congress in October called upon the states for a

continental force, but did not dare to declare openly what it was to be

used for. It was thought necessary to say that the troops were wanted

for an expedition against the northwestern Indians! National humiliation

could go no further than such a confession, on the part of our central

government, that it dared not use force in defence of those very

articles of confederation to which it owed its existence. Things had

come to such a pass that people of all shades of opinion were beginning

to agree upon one thing,--that something must be done, and done quickly.