Conceived in Liberty (173 page)

*
At the time, Franklin proudly proclaimed for the amended bill; two years later, however, amidst colonial resistance to the measure, he had a convenient lapse of memory about his role in the affair. See John Shy,
Toward Lexington: The Role of the British Army in the Coming of the American Revolution
(Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1965), p. 188.

Undoubtedly one of the main reasons for the collapse of resistance in New York was the gratitude of the New York landed oligarchy for the prompt use of British troops in suppressing a widespread tenant rebellion in 1766.

By the middle of the eighteenth century, rising resentment against the manorial lords of New York—recipients of huge government land grants—had begun to set off tenant uprisings against their masters. In 1750 a tenant-settler revolt occurred in Dutchess County, and in the early 1760s, similar revolts erupted on the giant manors of Albany and Westchester counties. Discontent centered in the largest ones, the big four manors, and the movement of the New York “peasantry” culminated in the general Hudson River rebellion, or “Levellers Uprising,” of 1766.

This revolt began over land in the Philipse manor (highland patent) in southern Dutchess County (now Putnam County), where Philipse tenant-settlers (largely from New England), concentrated in the eastern end of the county, were buying their land titles from the local Indians and ignoring the Philipse land claims. By 1756 the Philipse proprietors had seized the lands from the Indians and had brought ejectment suits against the rebellious tenants. In 1763 the tenants renounced the Philipse leases and refused to pay rent to their designated landlords. A chancery court case reached trial in the spring of 1765, but the judges—including members of the Colden, Smith, and DeLancey families of the New York oligarchy—were all great landlords. One judge, William Smith, was even connected with the Livingston family, which was involved in similar lawsuits with the Indians. Not only were the judges packed against the Indians and the tenants, but the grand Indian sachem, Daniel Ninham, was unable to retain a lawyer because every attorney in the province had been bought by the landlords. Furthermore, not only was
Ninham not allowed to speak in court, but the tenants were ordered arrested for the high crime of depriving the Crown of its due inheritance. And while Ninham appealed to England, Van Rensselaer took ejectment action against many of his tenants claiming Indian titles. The settler cases were brusquely thrown out by the courts, except for those won by the Philipse proprietors on the strength of obviously forged bills of sale from the Indians.

Deprived of their lands by the aggression of packed and landlord-dominated courts, the tenants looked for other means of defending their property. At the end of 1765, the tenants of New York, undoubtedly inspired by the stamp tax fight for liberty, decided to strike out for liberty for themselves. The Philipse settlers advertised publicly for tenants to meet in order to reinstate the evicted tenants by force. The Dutchess County rebels moved to “stand by each other with lives and fortunes,” to force their landlords to grant them security of tenure and at least to lower their rents. Their main methods were by refusing to pay rent and defending themselves against any forced ejections. They pledged to rescue any tenants arrested for refusing to pay rents. Recalcitrant tenants were now forced to join the rent strike. William Prendergast, one of the more prosperous tenants, was chosen as leader, and militia companies were formed. Judges were forced by the rebels to swear never to prosecute them.

In the spring of 1766, the Leveller rebels on the Van Cortlandt manor in Westchester refused to pay rent, and demanded their land in fee simple. When three of them were arrested by the New York government, over a thousand assembled Westchester tenants threatened to rescue the prisoners from the New York City jail. The Dutchess rebels, who had been leery of the radicalism of the Westchester movement, now eagerly joined in the demands for rescue. The armed tenants marched on the city, naively expecting aid from the New York Sons of Liberty. When this help never materialized, the tenants disbanded and returned home before reaching the city. As the conflict polarized, the alarmed governor, Sir Henry Moore, called out the militia to suppress the tenants.

Five hundred rebels now gathered, and threatened to burn the house of Pierre Van Cortlandt if he did not grant their demands. A mob of five hundred also freed John Way from a Poughkeepsie jail, where he had been confined for nonpayment of rent. But a show of military force and a proclamation for the seizure of tenant leaders managed to disperse the rebels. The Dutchess County rebels, led by William Prendergast and Samuel Munroe, moved against the Philipse proprietors. At Livingston manor, several hundred Leveller rebels marched on Livingston’s house, threatening to destroy the lord and his property unless they were at last freed from rent and taxation. They were dispersed, however, by an armed Livingston troop. Seventeen hundred armed rebels also fought at Van Rensselaer manor. By the summer of 1766, jail rescues of tenants flourished throughout the eastern Hudson Valley.

Despite proclamations and orders for arrests for high treason, the provincial government could not begin to suppress the rebellion. The militia, including many small farmers, proved completely unreliable, and British troops had to be called in by the governor to quell the uprising. Ruthless suppression by the pillaging British troops continued for four months. Finally, about eighty of the rebels were captured, including the great leader of the Philipse rebellion, William Prendergast. Significantly, so far was Prendergast from being a radical partisan of debtors or heedless of the property rights of creditors, that he made it clear that payment of debts in general must be strictly enforced. Only debts for the unjust exactions of quasi-feudal rents drew Prendergast’s fire.

Prendergast and the eighty other or so rebel leaders were brought to trial. The judges were all great landlords and land speculators. Moreover, two of the judges were directly related to the manorial lords involved in the struggles. The rebels were indicted on charges of riotous assault and some for rescuing prisoners; they were variously sentenced to fines, imprisonment, and the pillory.

Prendergast’s trial was different.
His
indictment was for high treason. Prendergast, highly popular in the colony and known to be a “sober, honest, and industrious farmer,” was ably defended by his wife, Mehitabel Wing. At one point the prosecutor moved to oust Mehitabel “lest she might too much influence the jury” by “her very looks.” The court sharply remarked that they might as well cover the prisoner with a veil, “lest the distress painted on his countenance should too powerfully excite compassion.” The jury quickly brought in a verdict of guilty with a recommendation of mercy, but the court sentenced Prendergast to be hanged and quartered.

Meanwhile, butchery continued in the field, where British troops burned, pillaged, and plundered the still recalcitrant Philipse tenants. Dispossessed Van Rensselaer and other tenants fled to Massaschusetts and Connecticut where they continued their quest for the land via guerrilla warfare, aided by Massachusetts and the Indians.

Because of the great popular sympathy for Prendergast, the sheriff could find no one willing to carry out the brutal sentence upon him, despite the sheriff’s promise to disguise and reward the collaborator. Finally, after keeping Prendergast in prison for several months, the Earl of Shelburne, secretary of state for the Southern Department, recommended a pardon in view of the prisoner’s great popularity, and the king agreed. Prendergast, incidentally, had bravely refused several chances to escape from prison in order to spare his family from having their property confiscated. He now returned home to great rejoicing.

As for the rebellious settlers, many of them left either for cheap and available land in virtually unsettled Vermont or for nearby Massachusetts. The Indians, despite the Crown’s sympathy for their land claims, were forced to
plead their case before a packed court—a Council consisting of great landlords, some of them directly involved in the dispute. The Indians could not find a lawyer in the province, their witnesses were arrested, and judgment was concluded against them.

The failure of the liberal forces in New York was the failure of groups like the Sons of Liberty to merge with the tenant liberation movement. But given the conditions of the day, no further link was possible between these two libertarian groups. For the landlord leadership of the struggle against British oppression could hardly join hands with their own tenantry. The zeal of the Livingstons for liberty always stopped well short of extending such liberty to their own tenants. Too, the bulk of the Sons of Liberty was urban and artisan, and had little appreciation of the problems of the tenantry, or perception of how the mutually beloved concept of liberty could have forged a link between the two movements. Hence the indifference or hostility of the urban radicals toward the tenants; the radicals even applauded the calling in of British troops. And hence the lack of enthusiasm among the New York tenants for the Sons of Liberty and their cause. A pity—since the tenants had been firm supporters of the Stamp Act rebellion, and were inspired by that very revolt to struggle for their own particular liberty. A grave split thus developed among the radical forces of New York, weakening the whole resistance drive in that critical province.

An example of this split was the case of John Morin Scott, an early founder of the Sons of Liberty. It is true that Scott was early superseded in control of the Sons by such radical leaders as Isaac Sears, John Lamb, and Alexander McDougall, but it is also significant that this merchant, land speculator, large landlord, and political ally of the Livingstons was viciously antitenant, and was one of the personally interested judges who condemned Prendergast to death. On the other hand, an arch Tory like Lieutenant Governor Cadwallader Colden counseled against the massive use of force that crushed the tenants. General Gage chortled at the comeuppance being given to the “rich and most powerful people” who had fought the Stamp Act. Gage wrote trenchantly that these leaders had “first sowed the seeds of sedition amongst the people and taught them to rise in opposition to the laws....”

The Mutiny Act was one of the lesser of the major irritants imposed by the Pitt-Townshend administration. In early 1767, Townshend, with the consent of Pitt, decided to crack down on the Americans by making use of Franklin’s strained distinction between internal and external taxation of the colonies. Townshend decided to levy “external” duties on the colonies, and to execute the law by ending salutary neglect and by instituting measures to enforce imperial customs and trade regulations. These were the “Townshend Acts” of 1767, which were passed at the end of June and which would become effective on November 20. Designed to bring in forty thousand pounds annually, the most fateful of these acts imposed new import duties on glass, lead, paint, paper, and tea. This money would be used to quarter British troops in the colonies, but primarily it would go for increased “support of civil government”—an obvious threat to the jealously guarded power of the colonial assemblies to appropriate the salaries of the executive officials.

To ease complaints against the heavy tax burdens in England, and to expand English power over the colonies, Townshend had decided to make use of the internal-external dichotomy. After all, he reasoned, if Americans, as he thought, could believe in this absurd distinction, let Britain make good use of this foolishness. Such proved to be the folly of England’s taking Benjamin Franklin as representing the American people!

Parliament, piqued at the Americans and eager to shift tax burdens onto others, overwhelmingly supported the Townshend Acts; indeed, the chief opposition came from the Tories, led by Grenville, who argued against the acts for not going far enough. Among the Whigs, Edmund Burke, at this time one of their leaders in Parliament, led the opposition from the liberal
side; he astutely pointed out that the acts were not essentially different from the stamp duties and that the Americans would resist the former as they did the latter.

As a companion to the new duties, another Townshend Act radically increased the enforcement powers of British officialdom. Until this time, the various customs collectors and surveyors had been loosely controlled by commissioners of the customs in England. Now a new five-man American Board of Commissioners of the Customs was established at Boston, to exercise direct central control of American customs and trade act enforcement. The idea for the customs board had been given to Townshend by his protégé, Charles Paxton, surveyor of Boston, marshal of its vice admiralty court, and one of the newly appointed commissioners. Another Townshend Act authorized the appointed supreme courts of the colonies to issue writs of assistance—general search warrants—to enforce the customs regulations. A companion measure, to increase the effectiveness of admiralty-court enforcement, took effect the following year; it expanded the number of super vice admiralty courts from the single Halifax court to four, each of which would have both original and appellate jurisdiction in its own region. These courts were now located at Halifax, Boston, Philadelphia, and Charleston.

The arrogant encroachments of the Townshend Acts immediately rekindled American resistance to British oppression. With the exception of tea, much of which was handled by the British East India Company, the commodities taxed by the Townshend Act were all manufactured products imported almost exclusively from Great Britain. The Americans therefore decided to employ the nonimportation weapon, which had proved so effective in pressuring the British merchants to have the stamp tax repealed. A nonimportation boycott promised to be the best means of fighting the Townshend duties as well.

Boston, the major port for reception of the newly taxed goods, was a natural point of origin for the resistance, and this vigilant and libertarian-oriented town did not disappoint anyone’s expectations. The first public resistance came in the Boston Town Meeting of October 28, 1767, led by James Otis. The meeting drew up a lengthy list of British products that Americans were to pledge themselves not to purchase after the end of the year; colonists were to patronize local manufacturing instead. Copies of the resolutions were sent to all the towns in Massachusetts and to the principal towns in the other colonies. Twenty-four Massachusetts towns backed Boston’s action enthusiastically, with only Salem refusing. The following month Boston petitioned for the constitutional rights of the colonists against the new duties.