III. THE MOMENTOUS STRUGGLE BETWEEN MIGHT AND RIGHT
The border warfare continued as ferociously as ever before. Washington, being out of military life, with heavy business responsibilities upon him, did not become involved in these conflicts.
Meanwhile, the prediction of the Duke de Choiseul that the colonies would rapidly see they had no need of England, and would as rapidly cease to fear its military power, was coming true. Irritation followed fast upon irritation, and arrogance bred resentment and retaliation so rapidly that it requires many a volume to tell it all. The colonists had to fight the battles of the border warfare, pay the costs, support the arrogant officers sent across the water, and yet find themselves regarded as inferiors fit only as producers for a land across the sea. But it should be understood from the beginning that history deals mainly with the makers of history who have been almost exclusively generals and kings. The commoners, except as their minds are state-made, have no quarrel with the commoners of other countries.
The first outbreak came against taxes placed on personal necessities in which the people had no rights or voice. The resentment was crystallized into an outcry against “taxation without representation.” The bitter feeling found voice in a daring defiance uttered by Patrick Henry. He brought forward a resolution in the Virginia House of Burgesses, declaring that the General Assembly of Virginia had the exclusive right and power to lay taxes upon the people of Virginia, and that whoever claimed to the contrary was an enemy of the colony. With that view the commoners of England were in general sympathy, including many of the most influential men in that country. But the British court was foreign, that is, continental. History tells us that King George the First, grandfather of George the Third, could speak only his native German, and held in profound contempt the English people.
The Speaker of the House tried to have Patrick Henry’s resolution modified as being too strong, but, in his speech for the resolution, the young orator, after a brilliant address, concluded with the memorable and history-making words, “Cæsar had his Brutus; Charles his Cromwell; and George the Third,—(here cries of ‘Treason! Treason!’ was heard) may profit by their example. Sir, if this be treason——(here he bowed to the Speaker)—make the most of it!”
The idea of liberty to make their own laws had now sprung forth, and it was taken up with immense enthusiasm throughout the colonies.
The British Parliament seemed to look upon the colonies as Braddock had done upon the colonial soldiers,—they were only half-civilized inferiors, and suitable only for menial service or to contribute profit to the mother country. Accordingly, month by month and year by year, the interference and resentment on both sides increased, by the passage of obnoxious laws on one side, and resistance to their enforcement on the other side.
All this time, Washington was in the midst of the turmoil, not as a leader but more as a peacemaker, though always in full sympathy with the fast growing American idea. As we take a swift view of those times, we are apt to suppose that the change of mind, uniting the colonies in opposition to Great Britain, came suddenly and unanimously, but, as in all places and situations, where there is freedom of thinking, the general conviction came slowly, especially the conviction to use force in the defense of the rights of of man as learned in the hard freedom of the wilderness. What we might call the high-water mark of mind, in favor of force for maintaining colonial liberty, was that of Patrick Henry, whose slogan was “Give me liberty or give me death.”
On the other hand, there were many, from the aristocratic mansion to the log cabin in the forest, who looked upon force against the mother country as a horror and a crime. Between these extremes, Washington labored for patience among the colonists and a change of policy among the law-makers of Great Britain. In writing to his wife’s uncle, an influential man in London, he said, “The Stamp Act engrosses the conversation of the speculative part of the colonists, who look upon this unconstitutional method of taxation as a direful attack upon their liberties, and loudly exclaim against the violation.”
Washington Surrendering His Commission.
In the New England colonies, the people were far more fierce in their resentment toward the requirement that they must buy stamps to make legal almost every transaction. This method of getting money for the British government was so offensive to Boston that a publicly encouraged mob hanged the stamp distributor in effigy, the windows of his house were broken, and the building to be used as his office was broken to pieces, and the fragments burned in the streets. The officers of the town, trying to disperse the crowd, were driven away with stones. The next morning the stamp distributor renounced his office in the public square and no one could be found willing to take his place.
Down in Virginia, the stamp distributor did not try to fulfill his office, but came on to Williamsburg and amidst much applause publicly denounced the Stamp Act and vacated the office.
On the first of November, 1765, when the act was to become law and go into operation, there was tolling of bells throughout New England. Ships in the harbors displayed their flags at half-mast. Shops were shut, business was suspended, and every form of defiance they could invent was displayed all day and that night.
At New York, the poster announcing the law was stuck on a pole, under a death’s head, from which floated a banner bearing the inscription, “The folly of England and ruin of America.” The lieutenant-governor with all his official household went into the fort and surrounded himself with marines from a ship of war. Then the mob went to his stables, brought out his carriage, put his effigy into it, dragged it up and down the street till they were tired, and then hung his effigy on a gallows. That evening they took the effigy down, put it again into the carriage, this time by the side of an image of the devil, had a howling torch-light procession to Bowling Green, and there, under the guns of the fort, burned the carriage with the effigies in it. So bitter and so general was the disapproval that no one attempted to enforce the law.