The Glorious Cause, page 11
II
The king’s approval was the last event connected to the Stamp Act to be accomplished with ease. For the Stamp Act set off in America a crisis that had no precedents. In a sense, the rioting and mobbing that ensued during the summer and autumn of 1765 are the most interesting features of the episode; but interesting though they were, the organization of protest and the reorganization of local politics that emerged in the crisis were more important. And most important of all was the development of the colonial constitutional position, so evocative and expressive of self-consciousness among the colonists.
News of the stamp tax arrived in the colonies in the first two weeks of April. For the next six weeks almost nothing about the Act made its way into the colonial press, and certainly no public body seemed eager to take the lead in opposition. At the end of May, however, an official body, the House of Burgesses in Virginia, took action. The Burgesses approved a set of resolves on May 31 which declared that the constitution limited the right of taxation to the people or their representatives and that this right belonged to Virginians by virtue of the fact that they were British subjects who lived under the British constitution. The implication was inescapable: Parliament, a body to which they sent no representatives, had no authority to tax them.15
On the face of things, this action hardly seems explosive—yet it was. That an explosion occurred in Virginia was something of a historical accident, or at least an event in which chance—or contingency—played more than a normal role. Chance in this case may have been nothing more than astute timing by several political manipulators whose spokesman was Patrick Henry. For Henry introduced the Virginia Resolves at the very end of a legislative session after most of the burgesses had already left for home. Thirty-nine members remained of 116 when Henry got to his feet to introduce his resolves.
Patrick Henry was twenty-nine years old in 1765, a gay blade who loved music and dancing and who in turn was loved by young ladies for his dash and charm. He was well known for so young a man, having made his name in a celebrated struggle over the payment of the Anglican clergy in Virginia, a case appropriately called the Parson’s Cause.16
The Parson’s Cause began with the price of a weed—tobacco. In the middle of the eighteenth century, tobacco dominated Virginia’s economy in a way inconceivable today. Tobacco was the most important crop raised on plantations, though some diversification had begun a few years earlier; once harvested and cured, it was shipped to England for sale or for trans-shipment to the Continent. Most cultivated land in Virginia was put into tobacco production; the thousands of black slaves in the colony spent most of their waking hours with the plant; and planters seem not only to have used their days in its cultivation and sale but also to have dreamed in their nights of its expansion and increase.17
Notes issued on tobacco deposited in the local warehouses circulated as money, and many private contracts provided that payment of obligations was to be in tobacco rather than in money. Public acts also sometimes required that payments of debts be in tobacco—among them a statute of 1748 which required that an Anglican clergyman should be paid 17,280 pounds of tobacco a year.
In 1758, there was a drought that drastically reduced the tobacco crop, and the shortage that resulted drove up the price of tobacco to about four and one-half pence per pound, an amount about three times greater than the normal price. This inflation of price threatened the interests of debtors who of course had incurred debts when tobacco was cheaper. These debtors, for the most part tobacco planters, demanded some protection from the Virginia legislature, which responded with an act holding that debts payable in tobacco might be paid in currency for one year, at the rate of two pence per pound of tobacco—an amount well above the normal price. The statute, locally referred to as the Two Penny Act, was not aimed at the clergy, but they were clearly affected since their salaries, set by law, were ordinarily paid in tobacco.
Creditors of all kinds would have benefited had the law not been passed. But though it cut into their pocketbooks, most did not complain. Nor did many clergymen, but several did—and loudly. Not satisfied by these protests, they also sent the Reverend Mr. John Camm to England to have the law disallowed by the Privy Council. Hearings were held, arguments given, petitions received, and the Privy Council in August 1759 set aside the Act. From Virginia’s point of view this was an unfortunate ruling, particularly because the councillors also declared that in the future laws which were passed in violation of the government’s instruction were void from their inception. In practice, this ruling would have made governing difficult.
The clergy further soured popular feeling when a handful of their number sued to collect the full value of their salaries under the old rate of 17,280 pounds per year. The Two Penny Act had been disallowed, and they wanted full pay; if there was drought and inflation, well, that was too bad.
In the first two cases heard by county courts in the colony, the decisions went against the clergy. The third, brought by the Reverend Mr. James Maury of Louisa County, was heard in Hanover County. The court found for Maury—the reasons are not known—and the case went to the jury which was to decide on the amount of damages to be awarded. To aid the jury in reaching an equitable decision, the county hired Patrick Henry to make the argument for the defense—in other words, for the local interest.18
Because Henry knew very little law at this time, he ignored legal niceties in favor of a brilliant attack: the clergy, Henry said, were enemies of the community who deserved not damages but punishment for bringing the case. The clergy, after all, had proved unwilling to obey the law. As for the British government, in disallowing the Two Penny Act, it had encroached upon colonial freedom. The climax to this address was a daring declaration that “a King, by disallowing Acts of this salutary nature, far from being the father of his people, degenerates into a Tyrant, and forfeits all rights to his subjects’ obedience.”19 At this point there were cries of “Treason,” but the presiding justice, Colonel John Henry, father of Patrick, unsympathetic to clergy and kings, let his son go on unreprimanded. The jury, according to the Reverend Mr. Maury, who was in anguish, sat there nodding its agreement all the while. Indeed Henry had been persuasive: the jury awarded Maury the magnificent sum of one penny.
Although this case made Henry’s name in Virginia, he added to his fame by brilliant performances in hundreds of others. And Louisa County, in a demonstration of its admiration of him, chose him burgess in a special election held in the spring of 1765. Henry in fact made his first appearance in the House on May 20; ten days later, a new, untried burgess but a well-known man, he introduced the Virginia Resolves.
The main outlines of what happened that day and the next—May 30–31—are known, but several important aspects of the passing of the Virginia Resolves remain elusive. Two facts are indisputable: only thirty-nine of the 116 burgesses remained, the others having already departed for home; and these thirty-nine passed—by no means unanimously—five resolves on May 30. Henry then left the House, presumably satisfied with his first major effort. The next day, however, the fifth resolve was rescinded by what by this time was a very small rump meeting.20
As printed in The Journal of the House of Burgesses, the first four resolutions ran as follows:
Resolved, That the first Adventurers and Settlers of this his majesty’s Colony and Dominion of Virginia brought with them, and transmitted to their Posterity, and all other his Majesty’s Subjects since inhabiting in this his Majesty’s said Colony, all the Liberties, privileges, Franchises, and Immunities, that have at any Time been held, enjoyed, and possessed, by the People of Great Britain.
Resolved, That by two royal Charters, granted by King James the First, the Colonists aforesaid are declared entitled to all Liberties, Privileges, and Immunities of Denizens and natural Subjects, to all Intents and Purposes, as if they had been abiding and born within the Realm of England.
Resolved, That the Taxation of the People by themselves, or by Persons chosen by themselves to represent them, who can only know what Taxes the People are able to bear, or the easiest method of raising them, and must themselves be affected by every Tax laid on the People, is the only Security against a burthensome Taxation, and the distinguishing characteristick of British Freedom, without which the ancient Constitution cannot exist.
Resolved, That his Majesty’s liege People of this his most ancient and loyal Colony have without Interruption enjoyed the inestimable Right of being governed by such Laws, respecting their internal Polity and Taxation, as are derived from their own Consent, with the Approbation of their Sovereign, or his Substitute; and that the same hath never been forfeited or yielded up, but hath been constantly recognized by the Kings and People of Great Britain.21
A much better attended House had approved statements of about this same tenor the year before. Hence the question of why there should have been disagreement over these resolutions is puzzling. Perhaps the answer lies in the composition of supporters of the resolutions. Patrick Henry was a young man and for the most part so were the others who backed him in the Burgesses. His opponents included several of the most distinguished members of the House—Peyton Randolph, John Robinson, Robert Carter Nicholas, Richard Bland, George Wythe—all older men, and all apparently resentful of the upstart from Louisa County and his youthful cohorts and their inflammatory language.22
That brings us to Henry’s speech delivered in support of his resolutions. No copy survives, but fragments exist, as reported by an anonymous French traveler who witnessed the proceedings on May 30 and 31 from the lobby of the House. According to this French observer, Henry began in a grand style, declaring that “in former times tarquin and Julus had their Brutus, Charles had his Cromwell, and he Did not Doubt but some good american would stand up, in favour of his Country.”23 At this point John Robinson, the speaker of the House, cut Henry off by accusing him of talking treason. Henry immediately begged the pardon of Robinson and the House and stated that he was prepared to demonstrate his loyalty to George III “at the Expense of the last Drop” of his blood. Passion may have carried him too far, he said, passion and “the Interest of his Countrys Dying Liberty.”
Henry backed down, but certainly not all the way. Apparently the damage was done, for the House divided. The young men there made their point in the four resolves and also succeeded in getting a fifth passed. The Journal of the House says nothing of it, however, and there seems to be no way of establishing its content. It may have been worded as follows—the text is from a paper Henry left behind:
Resolved, Therefore that the General Assembly of this Colony have the only and sole exclusive Right and Power to lay taxes and Impositions upon the Inhabitants of this Colony and that every Attempt to vest such Power in any Person or Persons whatsoever other than the General Assembly aforesaid has a manifest Tendency to destroy British as well as American Freedom.24
Several colonial newspapers printed this resolution and informed their readers that it had been passed. The Newport Mercury not only printed it but also a sixth and/or seventh:
Resolved, That his Majesty’s liege People, the Inhabitants of this Colony, are not bound to yield Obedience to any Law or Ordinance whatever, designed to impose any Taxation whatsoever upon them, other than the Laws or Ordinances of the General Assembly aforesaid.25
The Mercury, however, omitted the third resolve printed in the Journal of the House. The Maryland Gazette printed all seven, and most other newspapers offered either six or seven.26 The last resolve—the sixth in the Mercury, which was the seventh in the Maryland Gazette—carried the greatest thunder and was at least debated by the House. The French traveler, a fascinated observer, followed the proceedings and copied down the gist of this last resolve:
That any Person who shall, by Speaking, or Writing, assert or maintain, That any Person or Persons, other than the General Assembly of this Colony, with such Consent as aforesaid, have any Right or Authority to lay or impose any Tax whatever on the Inhabitants thereof, shall be deemed, AN ENEMY TO THIS HIS MAJESTY’S COLONY.27
Not even the remnant of the faithful who remained in Williamsburg at the end of May had a stomach for stuff as strong as this. The first four resolves doubtless represented the prevailing opinion of the burgesses even though they were encumbered by the sponsorship of young men such as Patrick Henry.
These last days of May exposed a generational split in the House, but it did not cut deeply—and there were no other important divisions within the body. There were, of course, differences in politics and society, but they had not made their way into established institutions. Certainly these potentially divisive interests had not appeared in the Burgesses. One interest dominated the House, indeed dominated Virginia’s government and politics: tobacco planters, landed, slave-owning, hard-driving producers of a staple sold in England and on the European continent. If the House of Burgesses was united, so was the colony as a whole because this group ran its life. Other interests existed in the colony—religious dissenters in the West, Baptists, Presbyterians, and Methodists—but these radicals of the spirit had not yet forced their way into the government of the colony.
Every newspaper report of Virginia’s action made events in Virginia sound more extravagant than they were. The Burgesses had passed four resolves; Maryland printed six and Rhode Island seven; undoubtedly stories relayed in private letters, by word of mouth, the gossip of taverns, parishes, towns, and court meetings introduced further distortions. Henry’s bravado was reported in these stories; his backing down was not.
III
Because official action had been taken in Virginia, the pressure built up elsewhere to respond in a similar vein. Before the end of 1765, the lower houses of eight other colonies had approved resolutions denouncing the Stamp Act and denying Parliament’s right to tax the American colonies for revenue. And in October a Stamp Act Congress, composed of representatives of nine colonies, passed similar declarations of colonial rights.28
The statements of these bodies possess a transparent clarity and force that imply that agreement on them was complete and easily achieved. In fact, in almost every case the response was the purchase of effort and conflict, because the Stamp Act offered an opportunity for gaining political advantage in long-standing struggles. Where local divisions were deep—and felt intensely—the Stamp Act encouraged bitter conflict and usually drove divisions even deeper.
None of these legislatures passed resolutions before the fall of 1765. Most had finished their spring sessions by the time the news of the Virginia Resolves arrived, and none had been able to pull itself together sufficiently to act with a similar force. Virginia’s example clearly helped them act in the fall, and so did popular action undertaken in the summer. By early 1766 politics in most of the colonies had assumed a shape rather different from that of March 1765 when the Stamp Act was passed.
Massachusetts—where violence began and where politics was transformed—offers an instructive example of a political stand-off which at first inhibited protest, and then—when it was broken—intensified conflict and violence. Indeed, long-standing political feuds contributed to at least one instance of unrestrained violence—the mobbing of Thomas Hutchinson’s house—and to the general hostility to Parliament’s attempt to tax the colonies. For these provincial political divisions gave the opponents of taxation the opportunity to taint their enemies with something approaching treason to America. But at first—in the spring of 1765—political division, and the peculiar cast of alignments in Massachusetts, produced only paralysis.29
The most important political division in Massachusetts in 1765 went back to another division between James Otis, Sr., and Thomas Hutchinson which had its origin in 1757. Division is probably too mild a word to apply to the Otis-Hutchinson conflict; their struggle took on the proportions of a feud. As is still often the case in politics, the feud was over political office—first a seat on the governor’s Council which James Otis, Sr., of Barnstable wanted, and then the chief justiceship which they both wanted. Otis, Sr., hoped in 1757 that the House of Representatives would elect him to the Council, and when it did not, he blamed Thomas Hutchinson. The two men had been on opposite sides of the fence before—in a sense they were when the election to the Council was held, for Otis had been supporting the current governor, Thomas Pownall, who feared that Hutchinson coveted his place.30
Otis did not make much out of his disappointment until shortly after Francis Bernard replaced Thomas Pownall as governor in 1760. Colonists in Massachusetts knew Francis Bernard before they ever laid eyes on him. For Bernard was a familiar sort of figure in the colonies, a placeman who owed his appointment to his connection at “home.” In this case the influential English backer was Lord Barrington, Bernard’s brother-in-law and Secretary at War. Bernard had been governor of New Jersey, a place he thought beneath his ability, or at least beneath his hopes for financial reward. Bernard needed money to keep his growing family happy; all he had of his own was a rich ambition. Unfortunately, he lacked brains as well as money.31
Bernard arrived with instructions to enforce the Molasses Act—to stop smugglers, in other words. There is reason to suppose that he regarded these orders approvingly, for the governor received one-third of the proceeds of all forfeitures of smugglers. Bernard immediately made his weight felt, light as it was, by remaining aloof from the Otis and Hutchinson factions and dealing with the Tyng interest in the House of Representatives. Tyng was a power in the House, but no governor could survive without coming to terms with either the Otis or the Hutchinson group.
