Strange
though it may seem to have delved so deeply into an examination of 1760s
British partisan politics during a discussion of a document written years later
and thousands of miles away, the authors of the 1775 Declaration themselves
affirmed the connections that they perceived between the machinations of
statesmen in London and the events which moved them to take up arms in America.
They cited the “Peers and Commoners” whose support they had theretofore
enjoyed, the cities and towns that had spoken in their defence, and the one
minister in particular whose successes and failures they tied to their own. They
spoke of the glories of the Empire, affirmed their pride of place therein, and
spoke with respect of its great institutions – its kings and parliaments, and
its vaunted constitution. These were not words uttered on behalf of a people
who held themselves apart from Britain, rejected membership in the associated
socio-political community, and believed formal independence to be a forgone
conclusion. Rather, they were the honest assessments of a people still very
much invested – even in the midst of an increasingly bloody campaign of armed opposition
– in the ebb and flow of British political and cultural life. Speaking for the
Continental Congress – and thus for the governments of thirteen separate
colonies – Jefferson and Dickinson testified to this emphatically. America
remained, and wished to remain, a part of the Empire whose triumph they had
aided in the late war with France. The colonists had friends in the Commons,
the Lords, and the military, regarded the king with affection and respect,
loved the constitution and treasured the rights and liberties it guaranteed. Indeed,
their concerns – which had compelled them to resist the abrogation of their
prerogatives to the point of armed resistance – had never been with the
institutions of the British Empire, or with the British people themselves.
Rather, as the 1775 Declaration attested, the source of their discontent lay in
the greed, corruption, and duplicity of certain powerful individuals who had
perhaps mistakenly been vested with undue authority over the affairs of the
Empire.
Most
of these people were not identified by name, though their influence was noted
by the manner in which Jefferson and Dickinson described their machinations. Of
the train of abuses heaped upon the American colonies in the 1760s and 1770s, enumerated
in the third paragraph of the Declaration, the document declared that,
“Parliament was influenced to adopt the pernicious project [.]” Mark the
difference between this phrasing – an attribution of wrongdoing to an element
separate from Parliament – and a claim that Parliament itself was responsible
for the abuses in question. It was not the British legislature – a venerable
institution whose form and function nearly every American colony sought to
imitate – that was responsible for the repeated ills suffered by British
America, but rather an influence therein. Just so, it was not Great Britain – a
nation and a people worthy of affection and respect – that the united colonies
blamed for their misfortunes, but this or that government thereof. To that end,
as Jefferson and Dickinson affirmed, the Crown’s subjects in America had every
reason to acclaim the Newcastle-Pitt Ministry, and to perceive its triumphs as
parallel to their own. By the same token, residents of British America were
well-justified in recognizing the Bute, Grenville, and North Ministries as
having acted in a fashion inimical to their own particular priorities and desires.
Again, the issue was largely one of personality. Some agents, ministers, and
even leaders of the British government behaved in a way that comported with the
understanding nurtured by the majority of Americans of the British
Constitution, the Empire, and their relationship to the same. Others, of
course, did not.
Of
these others, Jefferson and Dickinson offered two specific examples. The first,
beginning in the seventh paragraph of the 1775 Declaration and continuing
through the ninth, tenth, and eleventh, was General Thomas Gage. Commander-in-Chief
of British forces in North America since 1763 and Governor of Massachusetts
since 1774, Gage was a common source of disdain and frustration among the American
opposition to contemporary British tax and trade policies and a frequent target
for accusations of cruelty, ruthlessness, and tyranny. Since the pronouncement
of the Restraining Acts in April, 1775 – which blocked all trade between
British America on one hand and Great Britain, the West Indies, and Ireland on
the other – and the associated bolstering of the troops and vessels under
Gage’s command (paragraph seven), Jefferson and Dickinson attested to a litany
of abuses perpetrated at his behest. First, in that same month in 1775, the
General proceeded to make an, “Unprovoked assault on the inhabitants of the
[Province of Massachusetts Bay], at the Town of Lexington” wherein his men,
“Murdered eight of the inhabitants, and wounded many others [,]” and, “From
thence proceeded in a warlike array to the Town of Concord, where they set upon
another party of the inhabitants of the same Province, killing several and
wounding more” (paragraph nine). Though an assemblage of Massachusetts militias
ultimately met this assault upon the lives and liberties of the inhabitants of
that colony by driving the remaining British forces back into Boston – where
they were thereafter contained under siege conditions – Gage’s campaign of
abuses evidently continued apace.
Having
effectively become the inhabitants of an occupied city, Jefferson and Dickinson
further explained in paragraph nine, the residents of Boston who found
themselves trapped in that city upon its encirclement by American militia
forces – and after June 14th, 1775 by the Continental Army – became
the next logical target of their nominal Governor’s ruthless intentions. Hoping
to depart in peace, the 1775 Declaration explained, and doubtless regarding the
integrity of an officer in the British Army as a sufficient guarantee, these
individuals naturally, “Entered into a treaty with him, [in which] it was
stipulated that the said inhabitants, having deposited their arms with their
own Magistrates, should have liberty to depart, taking with them their other
effects.” The relevant articles were thereafter delivered to the occupying
authorities, so that, “They might be preserved for their owners,” and the
prospective evacuees made ready to depart. At this point, Jefferson and
Dickinson declared, “In open violation of honor, in defiance of the obligation
of treaties, which even savage nations esteemed sacred,” Gage ordered a body of
men under his command to seize the arms in question, “Detained the greatest
part of the inhabitants in the Town, and compelled the few who were permitted
to retire, to leave their most valuable effects behind.” This act of knowing
duplicity was then followed on June 12th by the issue of a
proclamation under Gage’s name – “Further emulating his Ministerial masters” –
which allegedly declared the colonists having taken up arms to be, “Rebels and
traitors; to supersede the course of the common law, and instead thereof to
publish and order the use and exercise of the law martial” (paragraph eleven).
Combined, these actions – “This perfidy,” Jefferson and Dickinson labelled it in
paragraph ten – were said to have the effect of separating families from their
most vulnerable members, resulted in the destruction of an untold amount of
real and movable property, and reduced those accustomed to living, “In plenty,
and even elegance,” to a state of, “Deplorable distress.”
In
fairness to General Gage – a career military officer who by all indications
attended to his duties with commendable zeal and initiative – the accusations
cited above as having been heaped upon his character and conduct by the authors
of the 1775 Declaration did not necessarily represent an accurate accounting of
his behavior during the first weeks and months of what would become the opening
campaign of the American Revolutionary War. Laying aside the casualties
inflicted upon the assembled militiamen by British forces during the Battles of
Lexington and Concord – an outcome which both sides would doubtless have
preferred to avoid but which circumstances had quite possibly made inevitable –
Gage’s actions during the Siege of Boston were not nearly as despotic as
Jefferson and Dickinson would have had their readers believe. As to the
agreement arrived at between the General and the inhabitants of occupied Boston
– sealed on April 22nd, 1775 – its terms permitted the safe and
unmolested passage of women and children, “With all their effects,” and
extended the same privilege to all male residents upon the condition, “That
they will not take up arms against the king’s troops.” Furthermore, in the
event that armed conflict occurred within the limits of the city, Gage promised
that, “The lives and properties of the inhabitants should be protected and
secured, if the inhabitants behaved peaceably.” Firearms were among the
relatively small list items not permitted to be removed from the city, and all
residents desiring to depart were required to secure and present a pass issued
under the authority of Gage himself.
As
often happens during even the most well-intentioned efforts by military authorities
to secure a major population centre, however, these fairly reasonable
conditions very soon fell victim to logistical complications and short-term
strategic thinking. Earnest though Gage may have been in his promise to prevent
the properties of departing residents from being seized, pillaged, or otherwise
disturbed, it simply was not in his power to enforce any such guarantee. Not
only were the soldiers tasked with searching the belongings of prospective
evacuees for contraband materials quite often willing to confiscate whatever
item(s) happen to catch their fancy, but the presence of thieves and looters
among those who opted to remain in the city made it virtually impossible for
any property or item to be left unattended by its owners wholly absent the
possibility of its being damaged or stolen. This unfortunate reality ultimately
resulted in a large number of residents electing to remain in the city to keep
watch over their possessions while sending their families to seek relative
safety in the surrounding countryside. Meanwhile, as the inhabitants
sympathetic to the Patriot cause departed from Boston in the thousands and
those residents of nearby communities whose professed loyalty to the Crown and
Parliament sought protection in the wings of its British occupiers, it soon
enough became evident to Gage and his Loyalist allies that their strategic
position was becoming increasingly precarious. In the event that the city
became host solely to British troops and their Crown-aligned supports, there
would seemingly have been little to prevent the encircling Continental Army
from, say, setting it ablaze. Pressed by his local patrons – upon whom the maintenance
of his forces in large part depended – to take steps aimed at preventing this
outcome, Gage ultimately determined to abrogate the April 22nd
agreement, severely limit the number of inhabitants permitted to leave the city
thereafter, and wholly foreclose on any attempts to remove personal property.
All
that being said, the rather strained circumstances under which General Gage was
forced to operate in occupied Boston – and the decisions he had to make as a
result – bore little significance upon the perspective manifested by Jefferson
and Dickinson in their 1775 Declaration. However much he might have sincerely
believed that his efforts to preserve peace and stability in the British
America were both in the best interests of its inhabitants and ultimately
served to protect the rights and liberties that they held dear, the membership
of the Continental Congress clearly disagreed. Whereas he perceived the
movement of British troops into urban centers like Boston and New York City
after 1768 or the seizure of local gunpowder stores after 1774 as necessary to
maintaining social stability and avoiding bloodshed, the Patriot opposition saw
them as one man’s wholly unconstitutional attempt to place a people guilty of
no crime or transgression under military occupation. Likewise, whereas Gage
doubtless viewed his actions during the Siege of Boston as striking a necessary
balance between liberality and necessity – between his own sense of fairness
and the practical needs of his subordinates and local supporters – his
opponents had little reason to construe his behavior as anything other than
ruthless or corrupt. This essential dichotomy of perception seems not only to
define the relationship between Gage and his American opponents, but it is in
many ways the essential condition of the Anglo-American crisis of the 1760s and
1770s.
As an agent of the British state in
America and a lifelong officer of the Crown, Thomas Gage very likely nurtured a
personal respect for and dedication to the social and political values embedded
in the British Constitution which was in every way the equal of that professed
by his American adversaries. It is accordingly almost certain that he would
have agreed with them upon many fundamental points of law, or politics, or
philosophy – the sovereignty of Parliament, for example, or the importance of
the writ of habeas corpus. Where he and his opponents differed, therefore, was
mainly upon questions of execution. The Patriot resistance to Gage’s
administration in Massachusetts was of the evident opinion that the English
liberties to which they all held dear were wholly inviolable, and that
protecting them at all costs was perhaps less important than observing them at
all costs. Gage himself seemed to conversely understand that it was permissible
– even necessary – to abrogate certain liberties in the short run if it meant
securing them in the long run. It should be fairly obvious how and why these
differing assessments ultimately brought Gage and his American constituents to
blows. For, indeed, it was Gage at which Jefferson and Dickinson’s ire was
aimed in 1775. Rather than direct their anger at his superiors in the British
military, the Parliament that had assigned him to the North American garrison,
or to the larger apparatus of the British Empire whose continued expansion
arguably required and rewarded the service of men like Gage, the agents chosen
by the Continental Congress to articulate its position upon military resistance
chose to blame the individual – his attempts to seize gunpowder, his abrogation
of the April 22nd agreement, his declaration of July 12th,
etc. – for the crimes they believed he had committed against them. Again, the
rebellious colonists’ evident desire and ability to draw a line between Great
Britain in the abstract and certain British governments, magistrates, or
ministers seems clear enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment