“Did not the people protest against such a law?” Robert asked.
“Yes, the Great and General Court sent a protest to London, but they might as well have whistled to the wind.”
Mr. Adams turned partly round in his chair and took a paper from his desk.
“This is a copy,” he continued, “of the protest. It represents that the people were already much cramped in their liberties and would be fools to consent to have their freedom further abridged. They were not bound to obey those laws, because they had no voice in making them. They stood on their natural rights. It would take many hours to tell you, Mr. Walden, the full story of oppression on the part of Parliament towards the Colonies, or to picture the greed of the merchants and manufacturers of England, who could not then, and who cannot now, bear to think of a spinning-wheel whirling or a shuttle flying anywhere outside of England, or of anybody selling anything unless for the benefit of the men who keep shop in the vicinity of Threadneedle Street or Amen Corner.[21] The course of England in selfishness and greed is like the prayer of the man who said,—
“‘O Lord, bless my wife and me,
Son John and his she,
We four,
No more.’”
Robert, Berinthia, and Mrs. Adams laughed heartily. Mr. Adams finished his mush and milk, and while Mrs. Adams was serving the pandowdy he went on:—
“Memory goes back to my boyhood. When I was ten years old or thereabouts, there were no less than sixteen hat makers and possibly more in this one town. I used to pass several of the shops on my way to school. Beavers were plenty on all the streams in New Hampshire and western Massachusetts, and the hatters were doing a thriving business, sending their hats to the West Indies and Holland. One of the merchants sent some to England. The makers of felt hats over there could not tolerate such a transaction. There was a buzzing around the Lords of Trade; a complaint that the felters were being impoverished by the hatters of America. Parliament thereupon passed a law to suppress the manufacture of hats. Here is the law.”
Mr. Adams read from the paper:—
“No hats or felts, dyed or undyed, finished or unfinished, shall be put on board any vessel in any place within any British plantations, nor be laden upon any horse or other carriage to the intent to be exported from thence to any other plantation, or to any other place, upon forfeiture thereof, and the offender shall likewise pay five hundred pounds for every such offense. Every person knowing thereof, and willingly aiding therein, shall forfeit forty pounds.”
“That is diabolical,” said Robert, his blood beginning to boil.