He replied, “Oh! it is very much altered. If the Stamp Act is not repealed there will be a total loss of the respect and affection the people of America bear to England; and there will be the total loss of the commerce which depends on that respect and affection.”
“Do you think,” the question was asked, “that the people of America would consent to pay the tax if it were moderated?”
“No,” Franklin replied; “never, unless compelled by force of arms.”[61]
These representations probably exerted very considerable influence. The act was repealed on the 18th of March, 1766. Washington was in entire harmony with the philosophic Franklin in his views upon this subject. To a friend he wrote:
“Had the Parliament of Great Britain resolved upon enforcing it, the consequences, I conceive, would have been more direful than is generally apprehended, both to the mother country and her colonies. All therefore, who were instrumental in securing the repeal, are entitled to the thanks of every British subject, and have mine cordially.”[62]
The Americans were struggling for the establishment of a principle which they deemed vital to their liberties. The petty pecuniary sum involved in that one case was of but little moment. The repeal of the act was attended with the obnoxious and insulting declaration that the king and parliament “had the right to bind the people of America in all cases whatever.”
In correspondence with this assumption, a tax was speedily imposed on tea, glass, and sundry other articles. Troops were also sent out to hold the Americans in subjection, and the colonies were ordered to pay for their support. Two regiments of British regulars were sent to Boston. This was indeed shaking the rod over the heads of the people. A town meeting was called. It was resolved that the king had no right to quarter troops upon the citizens, without their consent. The selectmen refused to provide lodgings for them.
Most of the troops were encamped on the common, while the governor, as agent of the crown, converted the State House and Faneuil Hall into barracks for others. The indignation of the people was at the boiling point. To overawe them, cannon, charged with grape-shot, were planted, to sweep the approaches to the State House and Faneuil Hall, and sentinels, with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets, challenged all who passed.
These regiments paraded the quiet streets of puritanic Boston with their banners and glittering weapons, and the martial music of bugles, drum and fifes was heard, even on the Sabbath, and every note fell upon the ears of the people like an insult and defiance. Washington, in his beautiful retreat at Mount Vernon, was steadfastly and anxiously watching all these proceedings. His feelings, in reference to the conduct of the British government, were very frankly expressed in the following letter to a friend, George Mason.[63]
“At a time when our lordly masters in Great Britain will be satisfied with nothing less than the deprivation of American freedom, it seems highly necessary that something should be done to avert the stroke, and maintain the liberty which we have derived from our ancestors. But the manner of doing it, to answer the purpose effectually, is the point in question. That no man should scruple or hesitate a moment, in defence of so valuable a blessing, is clearly my opinion. Yet arms should be the last resource. We have already, it is said, proved the inefficacy of addresses to the throne and remonstrances to Parliament. How far their attention to our rights and interests is to be awakened or alarmed, by starving their trade and manufactures, remains to be tried.”