THE STORY of the STAMP ACT
The colonists were becoming more and more dissatisfied, not only in New
York, but in all of the thirteen English colonies in America. For they
strongly objected to the way in which money was being taken from them in
the form of taxes. The English had spent much money in the wars which
led up to the conquest of Canada, and thought that it should be returned
to them. So they taxed the colonists in every possible way. Protest was
made against these taxes, but in vain. Matters became worse and worse.
After two years, when it had come to be the year 1765, the British
Parliament passed what was called the Stamp Act. This compelled the
people to buy stamps and put them on every sort of legal paper. No one
could be married, no newspaper could be printed, nothing could be
bought, nothing could be sold, no business of any sort could be carried
on without these stamps. No one could evade the use of them, and in this
way all would have to contribute directly to the King.
More than any other form of tax, more than anything the British
Government had done, the people opposed this Stamp Act. The colonists
had no one to represent them in the British Parliament, no one to
present their side, no one to plead for them and tell what a drain this
tax was, so they declared that they would not use a single stamp, unless
they were allowed to have someone to represent them; and they set up the
cry, "No Taxation Without Representation."
Very soon a company of men called the Sons of Liberty began to be heard
of throughout all the thirteen colonies. They were foremost in opposing
the Stamp Act. In many towns they held meetings, and it was not long
before the people were aroused from one end of the country to the other.
Not many months had passed before men were sent from each of the
colonies and met in the City Hall at New York. This meeting was called
a Colonial Congress. For three weeks these men conferred, and during
that time decided that in good truth the Stamp Act was unjust, and that
everything in their power should be done to prevent it.
[Illustration: Coffee-House opposite Bowling Green, Head-Quarters of
the Sons of Liberty.]
In this same year the house which Stephen De Lancey had built close by
Trinity Church, and which James De Lancey had lived in until his death,
had become a hotel. It was called Burns's Coffee-House. It was a solid
structure, with high beams, great fireplaces, and wide halls. If you
go now to look for the spot where it stood, you will find a crowded
business section; but in those days there were open spaces all about,
and a handsome lawn swept away to the river. One October night the
merchants of the city gathered in this coffee-house, and here, late at
night, they signed a paper which bound them one and all to buy no goods
from England so long as the English King should compel them to use the
stamps. By this agreement people could, of course, only wear clothing
that was made in the colonies, and even the wealthy refused to buy silk
and broadcloth that were sent from England. Tea and coffee, being
imports, were not drunk, and in their place were used preparations made
from fragrant wild herbs of the American soil.
The merchants who had assembled in the coffee-house were called the
Non-Importation Association, branches of which spread throughout all the
colonies. The paper they signed was the non-importation agreement. Next
day, which was the first on which the stamps were to be distributed, the
city seemed to sleep. The shops were closed and the citizens remained
indoors. The flags were hung at half-mast and the bells tolled dismally.
But at night the silence changed to noise. The citizens gathered in
numbers. They broke into the stable of Lieutenant-Governor Cadwallader
Golden and dragged out his coach of state. In it they put a figure made
of sticks and rags to represent the owner. They marched the streets,
shouting as they went, and finally surrounded the fort. The soldiers
were drawn up on the ramparts with cannon and gun directed toward the
Bowling Green. But no shots were fired. The rioters being denied
admission to the fort, into which they were anxious to get because the
stamps were stored there, tore down the wooden railing around the
Bowling Green, and, kindling a huge fire, burned the coach and the
figure in it.
As the flames blazed high, the fury of the mob increased. They rushed
away toward Vauxhall on the outskirts of the town (where Greenwich and
Warren Streets now cross). Vauxhall at this time was occupied by a major
of the British army named James. He had said that the stamps ought to be
crammed down the throats of the people with the point of a sword. In
revenge for this his house was broken into, his handsome furniture, his
pictures and treasures of every sort dragged out, and kindled into a
bonfire around which the mob danced and howled.
The people were quite determined to take the law into their own hands
and destroy every trace of the hated stamps. You shall know presently
what prevented them.