The Sages and Heroes of the American Revolution

by L. Carroll Judson

LEWIS MORRIS.

A military despotism is a national curse, a blighting sirocco, a foe to liberty. Laws that require the bayonet to enforce them for an extended length of time are bad or the people for whom they are made are unworthy of freedom. Moments of excitement do occur in the best organized communities arising from a sudden local impulse that require a show of military power and even its force—but in a little time reason resumes her sway, the spirit of mobocracy subsides, the soldier again becomes the peaceful citizen and rests for security upon the strong arm of civil power.

Quartering the military upon the citizens of a community is full of danger. After having enjoyed the bounty and hospitality of the inhabitants let that military be directed to enforce laws that are obnoxious to the people—an indignation is roused that is increased tenfold from the circumstance of previous familiarity. The citizen conceives he has bestowed a special favor upon the soldier. He looks upon the attempt to force unjust laws upon him as base ingratitude—the blackest crime out of pandemonium. Favors forgotten and ingratitude displayed add desperation to revenge. Previous to the American Revolution the military were quartered upon or drew their support directly from the people. The Colonies had contributed largely in money and blood to aid the mother country in conquering her most inveterate foe in America—the French in Canada. No return was asked but the quiet enjoyment of chartered privileges guarantied by the constitution. This was denied them. Petitions were treated contumely—remonstrances were laughed to scorn. Then it was that a band of Sages and Heroes rose in all the majesty of man's native dignity and vindicated their inalienable rights.

Among the boldest of the bold was Lewis Morris, born at Morrisania in the vicinity of the city of New York in 1726. The preserved documents of this family trace their genealogy back to Rhice Fitzgerald. Rhys or Rhice Fitzgerald was a Cambrian chieftain who carried his military operations and conquests into Ireland during the reign of Henry II. By his valor and success he obtained the name of Maur [great] Rhice and the penultimate Fitzgerald being dropped gives us the name in plain English—Morris. In tracing genealogy we find names more changed than this. Genealogy and the origin of names is an amusing study—if you have leisure try it.

Lewis was the son of Judge Morris of the same Christian name who retained possession of the paternal estate formerly purchased by his grandfather, Richard Morris, who was a leader under Cromwell and came from Barbadoes in 1663 and purchased a tract of land near Harlaem on York Island. He left an only son, Lewis, who was Chief Justice of New York and subsequently governor of New Jersey.

After his preparatory studies Lewis entered Yale College at the age of sixteen. From the President, Dr. Clap, he imbibed a relish for moral and religious principles and became a good scholar. In 1746 he graduated—returned to his estate and became extensively engaged in agriculture. At that period the Colonies were free, prosperous and happy. The mother country had not discovered the philosopher's stone of taxing her distant children to support royalty. They were left to pursue their own course—enjoy the fruit of their labors and repose in peace. In this delightful retirement Mr. Morris continued to improve his farm and mind. By his suavity of manners, moral rectitude and honorable course he gained the confidence and esteem of all who made his acquaintance. He was the nucleus to a circle of friends of the highest attainments and respectability. He became a great favorite among the people and did all in his power to improve their condition and promote general good. He was a philanthropist and patriot.

The time rolled on rapidly when colonial repose was to be plucked up from the roots and perish under the burning heat of British oppression. The treasury of England had been drained by extravagance and war—her national debt had become frightfully large. The story of prosperity and wealth in America had been told to Mr. Grenville by an evil person in an evil hour. The plan of imperious taxation was devised. The Stamp Act was passed as a feeler. The descendants of the pilgrim fathers thought its feeling rather rough and recoiled from the touch with amazement. They loved their king but they loved their chartered privileges and country more. Legal remedies were resorted to. A Congress was convened at New York and several Colonies ably represented. Powerful addresses to the throne and people of Great Britain were prepared breathing the purest allegiance conditioned on the restoration of constitutional rights. The Stamp Act was repealed only to give place to a more voracious and obnoxious budget of Acts. The ministry bent all their force to accomplish their impolitic designs. They did more to prepare the people of America for Independence than the combined energies of the Sages could have effected without their co-operation. In devising a great evil they consummated a great good.

Mr. Morris took a deep interest in passing events—at first only as an adviser. Although Massachusetts took the lead in resisting oppression New York was not tardy in coming to the rescue. In 1767 an Act was passed by Parliament compelling the people of that Province to furnish the British soldiers that were quartered among them with provisions. By this order the burden fell upon certain portions of the inhabitants exclusively and not pro rota upon the whole. It was a direct invasion of personal rights and was most severely felt by the citizens of the city of New York and its vicinity. This measure brought Mr. Morris out. He publicly proclaimed it unconstitutional and tyrannical and contributed largely towards influencing the legislature to place a veto upon it. Might triumphed over right and enforced the contribution from the citizens. Spirits like that of Lewis Morris were not to be subdued. An unquenchable fire was only smothered to gather volcanic force under the brittle crust that covered it. It was constantly increased by supplies of fuel from Mr. Grenville and his more subtle successor Lord North. The statute of Henry VIII. was revived which doomed the disobedient to be sent to England for trial. Its eldest daughter—the Boston Port Bill was ushered into life and other screws of the rack tightened. The last petitions and remonstrances in the magazine of patience were finally exhausted. It was speedily replenished with materials more weighty than paper. Mr. Morris had become a prominent leader, a bold and substantial whig, rather too highly charged for the conciliatory Congress of 1774. The time came on apace when the people required just such a man and in April 1775 elected him to the Continental Congress. Even then most people attributed their sufferings to the venal ministry and hoped the king would cease to be an automaton and prove himself a man worthy of the high station he occupied. But hopes were vain—the olive branch withered beneath the scorching rays of corrupted power. The virtues of steel, powder and lead were then to be tried. Already had the purple current of Americans saturated the streets of Boston and the heights of Lexington. Already had the groans of dying citizens, slain by the hands of those whom they had fed—pierced the ears of thousands. Already were widows weeping for husbands weltering in blood and orphans for fathers covered in gore. If imagination sickens—if language fails, if history is impotent in conveying but a faint idea of the consuming anguish, the bitter grief, the palsying terrors, the boiling revenge, the deep resolves of those dark hours—how heart breaking—how overwhelming must have been the dreadful reality to living witnesses.

Soon after he took his seat in Congress Mr. Morris was placed upon a committee of which the illustrious Washington was chairman to devise measures to obtain the munitions of war. This was a desideratum rather problematical. Comparatively a sling and a few smooth stones were all the patriots had with which to combat the British Goliah. But the battle of Bunker Hill convinced all parties that rusty guns in hands with nerves of steel guided by hearts of oak could do good service and that men resolved on liberty or death were not to be tamely yoked without a desperate effort to be free. Mr. Morris became an active member and advocated strong measures. The year previous he was considered rash—the time had arrived when all saw the necessity of pursuing the course he had marked out. He became early convinced that an honorable arrangement could not be had under Great Britain—nothing but a triumph over her would restore the equilibrium of justice. He was one of a committee to visit the Indian tribes to persuade them not to enlist under the blood stained banner of England. But British gold was stronger than the most eloquent reasoning. To the eternal disgrace of those who were then wielding the destinies of the mother country, a premium was given for scalps not for prisoners. So dark, so deep, so damming a blot rests not upon the escutcheon of any other nation upon earth. Why? Because that kingdom had been the proclaimed conservator of the peaceful, humane religion of the Cross for centuries—the crowning glory of which is love. The foul deed was committed in the full blaze of Gospel light and boasted civilization. There were noble souls in parliament at that time and millions of British subjects who looked upon the horrors of that demoniac policy with as much indignity as an American can. Mr. Morris also visited the New England States for the purpose of maturing plans to raise supplies and commence concentrated vigorous action.

In 1776 he again took his seat in Congress and was pleased to find the general pulse beating in unison with his own—a determination to sever the Gordian knot and proclaim an eternal separation from a nation that held power only to abuse it. He was on many important committees—was all activity in and out of the House. In his native neighborhood he had a herculean task in rousing the people to a sense of their true position. Gov. Tryon mingled the poison with the wisdom of the serpent—affected to be harmless as a dove and exercised a powerful influence over the people of the city of New York in favor of the crown. He pointed them to the certain destruction of the commercial interests by a war—the inequality of the two powers—the impossibility of Whig success and construed self interest into self preservation. To paralyze his influence required great exertion. Mr. Morris and his friends put forth their noblest energies in the mighty work. What they could not effect, British oppression and the powder and ball of Gen. Howe soon accomplished.