SH05_Revolution

by Edward Cline

  Jones that first day did not seek a chance to speak. He bided his time to observe how the debates shaped up and what direction they would take. However, he complained to Barré, who sat next to him on an upper tier, “The manner in which the American petitions are received and rejected is vindictiveness posing as mulish formality. The petition containing the resolves of the so-called Stamp Act Congress of last October has been deemed the pronouncement of an illegal political assembly, and therefore inadmissible for recognition and discussion.”

  “Indeed?” answered Barré. “I had heard it was because especially the Stamp Act Congress petition had not been signed by the petitioners. A rather petty excuse, I must say!”

  “I swear, this House grants a greater ear and more credence to the pleadings of visiting aborigine delegations from North America than it does to legitimate political complaints!”

  During the debates on how to word the House’s Address to the King, Sir Henoch Pannell, member for Canovan, was able to deliver one of the opening speeches. This time he sat on a tier behind the Grenville opposition party. “The honor of Parliament has been injured by the colonials, who have again subjected us to gently versed grievances, and we who oppose repeal and likewise any modification of the existing Act, we reply to all parties that the Crown requires a redress of its grievance! This ministry sails with the shredded, torn sails of vacillating conciliation! Damn that word! Let it be stricken from our dictionaries, from our tongues! Further, great mountains of verbiage are expended here and by the colonials on principles. Forgotten in all that blather is the long-standing and revered principle of the sovereignty and authority of this House, established with great wisdom, courage, and justice during the travails of the late century! The principles broadcast by the colonials and their tactless, undutiful friends here are but a gossamer web of fantasy, spun by a nest of jealous, spiteful, tiny creatures, while the principle of authority and power that resides in this House is as tangible as the shoes on our feet!”

  Colonel Barré rose and was recognized by Speaker Sir John Cust. The war veteran winked once at Jones, then turned and said, “Speaking of boots and the gout they will not accommodate, it would seem that the gentleman across the way there has neglected to mention another aspect of that power and authority, namely that the late ministry under Mr. Grenville was afflicted by a severe episode of Turkish gout when it persuaded this House to serve the Stamp Act upon the colonies. I refer to the gout of a usurpation of the liberties of English subjects abroad, aggravated by the spirited inebriation of avarice. I can assure the gentlemen there that the malady may be tolerated only at the risk of amputating the offending limb. In this instance, it may not be merely the aching foot that is amputated, but the pate and the purse, as well.” Then he sat down. A murmur of agreement coursed through the bloc of pro-repeal members around him.

  Jones leaned over and remarked to Barré, “Fine words, sir, but you know as well as I do that Mr. Pitt, who is afflicted with the gout, when he appears here, will instead likely offer his shoulder to limping Lord Rockingham.”

  Barré chuckled in agreement.

  Another member from across the floor rose and was recognized. “If the gentleman there alludes to the possibility of the colonies severing political ties with their mother country over the Act in question, I wish to inform him that the likelihood is inconceivable. The colonies must be retained by means of medicinal curative or military campaign. The power and authority of the Crown must be proclaimed, asserted, and perpetuated, as gently or belligerently as necessary, at whatever cost is necessary. The action this Parliament takes will be determined by the behavior and words of the colonies.”

  “Hear! Hear!” muttered the fuming former First Lord of the Treasury, George Grenville, present now only as the member for Buckingham Borough. He insisted from beginning to end on the right of Parliament to regulate and tax the colonies. He would continue to dispute any distinction between external and internal taxes, as well as any limitations on the taxing and legislative powers of Parliament.

  Attorney-General Charles Yorke, member for Reigate, also rose to speak, insisting that if repeal were adopted by the House, it must be accompanied by a second resolution that affirmed the authority of Parliament, and that such a declaratory resolution must state that to deny Parliamentary sovereignty by word spoken or written should constitute treason, and further, that the colonial assemblies should be required to expunge from their resolutions all denials of that sovereignty.

  Alexander Wedderburn, another king’s advocate, a bencher at the Inner Temple, and member for Ayrburghs, rose to propose a clause in such a declaratory act that would make it illegal to dispute Parliamentary right in books and pamphlets.

  Jones remarked to Colonel Barré about Wedderburn, “There’s man of ambidextrous principle!”

  “He is a man to watch — like a cat,” remarked John Sargent, member for West Looe, who sat on the other side of Jones. James Hewitt, member for Coventry and sergeant-at-law at the Middle Temple, sat below Jones. He glanced up and nodded in agreement. Both members were in the pro-repeal bloc.

  Further on in the day’s session, after the House had moved into a Committee of the whole House, these severe measures were endorsed by William Blackstone, the eminent legal historian and member for Hindon, who cited the opinions of Lord Mansfield, chief justice of the King’s Bench, a privy councilor, and the king’s Sergeant-at-Law. Mansfield had last year provided Grenville, at the latter’s request, with a legal rationalization for the Stamp Act.

  Henry Seymour, member for Totnes, then rose to deliver a tirade for the strict enforcement of the Stamp Act, by military and naval means if necessary. He was followed by Bamber Gascoyne, barrister at Lincoln’s Inn and member for Midhurst, and Robert Nugent, member for Bristol, who urged the same action. George Cooke, member for Middlesex, rose to declare that the Stamp Act was illegal, and questioned Parliament’s right to tax the colonies. He was answered by Hans Stanley, a Grenvillite and member for Southampton Borough, who emphasized the need for an American revenue, no matter how small, in order to reaffirm Parliament’s sovereignty. “That sovereignty must be maintained and proclaimed to the colonies, and to the inhabitants of this land, as well. We must all ask ourselves this question: When were the colonies emancipated from that sovereignty? The royal charters do not emancipate them! Neither did Cromwell, nor did the criminal family of the late Pretender!”

  Stanley was well into his speech, when William Pitt, who had been lingering at the door of the Speaker’s Room, listening, chose to make his entrance into the House.

  Hans Stanley finished his speech, chagrinned that the hush that suddenly quieted the restless House now was not caused by his own oratory or points, but by the abrupt presence of the man whose words he knew would set the terms of further debate and the course of the rest of the session. He finished his speech on a humble note, his words diminishing in volume and sureness, and resumed his seat with a knowledge of their momentous irrelevancy. The silence was so absolute that members could hear the clop of horse hooves on Whitehall and two ferrymen arguing over a fare at the Parliament stairs.

  His gout arresting his progress, Pitt hobbled painfully to a seat reserved for him by Edmund Burke and others of the ministry. He handed Burke some papers, and sat down. If he was conscious of the four hundred pairs of eyes on him, he did not show it. He sat back, as though steeling himself for the effort, then rose and faced Rose Fuller, member for Maidstone, and chair of the Committee. That man seemed to point a somber finger of death at the Great Commoner in recognition.

  Even from his upper tier vantage point, Jones could see Pitt’s ghastly visage, a pale mask that Jones associated only with the embalmed dead. It turned pink only when he reached certain parts of his oration, and later when he traded salvos of near invective with George Grenville, but then faded again to ash. Jones recalled Chesterfield’s remark from a week ago, and could not decide whether he was listening to a great orator speaking profundities, or to a m
an driven by pain to utter delirious ravings.

  This was the man who, with Lord Camden, later opposed general warrants, especially if they violated Parliamentary privilege; who wanted declared illegal searches by authorities of homes on suspicion of violation of the new cider tax; who wanted declared illegal the arbitrary seizure of personal papers, except in cases of treason and capital crimes.

  * * *

  Chapter 21: The Keystone

  As was his custom when the whole House moved into Committee, Jones placed sheets of paper atop the satchel on his knees, and readied his pencil above them to record now what one auditor later in a pamphlet would dub “The Celebrated Speech by a Celebrated Commoner.” Jones noticed that many others in the seats and in the gallery opposite him were doing the same.

  Pitt advanced to the Speaker’s table, glanced around him, and began his oration. “I hope a day may soon be appointed to consider the state of the nation with respect to America,” he said in a conversational tone. “I hope gentlemen will come to this debate with all the temper and impartiality that His Majesty recommends and the importance of the subject requires; a subject of greater importance than ever engaged the attention of this House, that subject only excepted when, near a century ago, it was the question of whether you yourselves were to be bound or free. In the meantime, as I cannot depend upon my health for any future day — such is the nature of my infirmities — I will beg to say a few words at present, leaving the justice, the equity, the policy, the expediency of the Act to another time.

  “I will only speak to one point — a point which seems not to have been generally understood. I mean to the right. Some gentlemen seem to have considered it as a point of honor. If gentlemen consider it in this light, they leave all measures of right and wrong, to follow a delusion that may lead to destruction. It is my opinion that this kingdom has no right to lay a tax upon the colonies. At the same time, I assert the authority of this kingdom over the colonies to be sovereign and supreme, in every circumstance of government and legislation whatsoever. They are the subjects of this kingdom, equally entitled with yourselves to all the natural rights of mankind and the peculiar privileges of Englishmen; equally bound by its laws and equally participating in the Constitution of this free country.”

  Sir Henoch Pannell, seated next to Crispin Hillier, frowned and remarked, “Well, if they are subjects, they may and must be taxed like any others! Sir, make up your mind, please!!”

  Crispin Hillier turned to him and put a finger to his lips. “Please, sir! The man will not need your assistance to dig his own grave! I see where he is going with this!”

  “The Americans are the sons, not the bastards, of England!” proclaimed Pitt with indignation. “Taxation is no part of the governing or legislative power!”

  “What??” whispered many members to themselves or to their mates on the seats on both sides of the House. Pannell snorted once and gave his partner a supercilious look of satisfaction.

  “The taxes are a voluntary gift and grant of the Commons alone. In legislation the three estates of the realm are alike concerned; but the concurrence of the peers and the Crown to a tax is only necessary to clothe it with the form of a law. The gift and grant is of the Commons alone.

  “In ancient days, the Crown, the barons, and the clergy possessed the lands. In those days, the barons and the clergy gave and granted to the Crown. They gave and granted what was their own! At present, since the discovery of America, and other circumstances permitting, the Commons are become the proprietors of the land. The Church — God bless it! — has but a pittance. The property of the Lords, compared with that of the Commons, is as a drop of water in the ocean; and this House represents those Commons, the proprietors of the lands; and those proprietors virtually represent the rest of the inhabitants. When, therefore, in this House we give and grant, we give and grant what is our own. But in an American tax, what do we do? ‘We, your Majesty’s commons for Great Britain, give and grant to Your Majesty’ — what? Our own property? No! ‘We give and grant to Your Majesty the property of your Majesty’s Commons of America!’” Pitt scoffed with a flick of a hand. “It is an absurdity in terms!”

  “Your reasoning is absurd, sir!” murmured the Earl of Danvers to himself. “Then there is no fault in granting the property of the colonies, of which the Crown is the proprietor, as well, in the King’s name! We are the proprietors!”

  Lord Temple, who overheard and agreed, remarked in a whisper to the Earl, “There’s a novelty I have not heard before, your lordship, and we have Mr. Pitt to thank for it! The Commons as steward of all property in the dominions, here and abroad? We ought to pursue that notion in our own House.”

  “The distinction between legislation and taxation,” said Pitt, “is essentially necessary to liberty. The Crown and the peers are equally legislative powers with the Commons. If taxation be a part of simple legislation, then the Crown and the peers have rights in taxation as well as yourselves; rights which they will claim, which they will exercise, whenever the principle can be supported by power.

  “There is an idea in some that the colonies are virtually represented in the House,” said Pitt with a wryness that almost produced a grin on his face. “I would fain know by whom an American is represented here.” With turned up hands, Pitt paused and glanced expectantly around him.

  “By the members for Kent and Greenwich! That is by whom, sir!” said James Marriott to his bench mate. “It’s in the charters!”

  “Is he represented by any knight of the shire, in any county in this kingdom?” asked Pitt. “Would to God that respectable representation was augmented to a greater number! Or will you tell him that he is represented by any representative of a borough? — a borough which, perhaps, its own representatives never saw!” Pitt laughed once in dismissal of the idea. “This is what is called the rotten part of the Constitution! It cannot continue a century!”

  There’s a treasonous notion, if I’ve ever heard one! thought Attorney-General Charles Yorke. I shall certainly take him to task for that statement!

  “If it does not drop, it must be amputated.” Pitt looked grim. “The idea of a virtual representation of America in this House is the most contemptible idea that ever entered into the head of a man. It does not deserve a serious refutation.”

  George Grenville snorted at this personal slight. He thought: Dear sir, if it were represented in this House, it could be taxed with impunity, without inciting altercation or rebellion!

  “The Commons of America, represented in their several assemblies, have ever been in possession of the exercise of this their constitutional right of giving and granting their own money. They would have been slaves if they had not enjoyed it! At the same time, this kingdom, as the supreme governing and legislative power, has always bound the colonies by her laws, by her regulations, and restrictions in trade, in navigation, in manufactures, in everything, except that of taking their money out of their pockets without their consent.”

  “Sir!” sighed Grenville to Thomas Whateley, member for Ludgershall, next to him. “This man teases us with all the arts of a courtesan! Either they are bound by our legislation, or they are not!”

  “A very unskillful exposition of principles, I must say,” agreed Whateley with less emotion.

  “Gentlemen, sir, have been charged with giving birth to sedition in America. They have spoken their sentiments with freedom against this unhappy Act, and that freedom has become their crime. Sorry I am to hear the liberty of speech in this House imputed as a crime. But the imputation shall not discourage me. It is a liberty I mean to exercise. No gentleman ought to be afraid to exercise it.” Pitt turned a stern face to Grenville in the opposition seats. “It is a liberty by which the gentleman who calumniates it might have profited. He ought to have desisted from his project. The gentleman tells us America is obstinate; America is almost in open rebellion. Well, I rejoice that America has resisted!” he shouted to the House at large. “Three mllions of people, so dead to all the fe
elings of liberty as voluntarily to submit to be slaves, would have been fit instruments to makes slaves of the rest!”

  George Grenville averted his eyes from Pitt’s glance with frosty insouciance. Whateley’s eyes were focused on a scuff on one of his shoes.

  “Since the accession of King William,” continued Pitt, “many ministers, some of great, others of more moderate abilities, have taken the lead of government. None of these thought, or even dreamed, of robbing the colonies of their constitutional rights. That was reserved to mark the era of the late administration. Not that there were wanting some, when I had the honor to serve His Majesty, to propose to me to burn my fingers with an American stamp act. With the enemy at their back, with our bayonets at their breasts, in the day of their distress, perhaps the Americans would have submitted to the imposition; but it would have been taking an ungenerous, an unjust advantage.”

  Members on both sides of the repeal question gasped. Clearly, the member for Bath had just indirectly criticized the Proclamation of 1763, and, by implication, the king himself. John Wilkes had been expelled from the House for a more circumspect insult to St. James’s Palace.

  Pitt turned another stern face to Grenville. “The gentleman boasts of these bounties to America! Are not these bounties intended finally for the benefit of this kingdom? If not, he has misapplied the national treasures!”

  Grenville simply stared back brazenly at his accuser with a defiant expression that was almost comical, as though he were daring Pitt to punch him in the face. In the gallery, Lord Mansfield leaned closer to the Duke of Bedford and remarked, “Poor Mr. Grenville! He is taking it on the chin over and over today!”

  The Duke shook his head. “Not to worry, your lordship. Look at him! That fellow has a soul of chain mail! He is proof against all charges, real or imagined! He will not be shamed!”