ernal
taxation had never been levied before. Protests, arguments, and
petitions were sent across the water, but in vain. The Commons fell
back upon its custom "to receive no petition against a money bill," and
would listen to nothing. "We have the power to tax them, and we will tax
them."[13] And following this utterance of one of the ministry, the bill
was passed.

It is interesting to note that no resistance to the tax was expected.
Its operation was automatic; there was no hardship in its provisions; of
course the colonists would yield. Even Franklin, who should have known
his countrymen better, expected submission. "The sun is down," he wrote,
but "we may still light candles. Frugality and industry will go a great
way toward indemnifying us." His correspondent, Charles Thomson, had in
this case the truer foresight, and predicted the works of darkness.[14]

Throughout the colonies there was not only sorrow, but anger. When even
Hutchinson had protested against the Stamp Act, it can be seen how the
Whigs would feel. Non-importation agreements were widely signed, and
people accustomed to silks and laces prepared to go into homespun. But
the act, passed in February, 1765, was not to go into effect until
November. Before that date, much could be done.

What was done came from the lower as well as the upper classes. The
people acted promptly. One colony after another sent crowds to those who
had accepted, in advance, the positions of stamp-officers. One by one,
under persuasion or intimidation, the officers resigned until none were
left. In New York the governor fled to the military for protection, and
from the parapet of the fort looked helplessly on while the people burnt
before his eyes his own coach, containing images of himself and the
devil. But before this happened, Boston, first of all the capitals to
take a positive stand, began to draw upon itself the particular
resentment of the king.

Early in August came to Boston the news of the nomination of its
stamp-collector, Andrew Oliver, long prominent upon the Tory side. The
lower class of the inhabitants, after a week of delay, stirred itself to
action. On the 14th the image of Oliver was seen hanging on the bough of
a large elm, then known as the Great Tree. Hutchinson ordered the image
down, but as the sheriff did not act, Bernard summoned his council, and
until evening fruitlessly endeavored to urge them to action. Then the
populace, having themselves removed