.

The news of the Tea-Party came to England at a time when king and
Parliament were less amiably disposed than usual toward Massachusetts.
Some weeks before had happened the affair of the Hutchinson letters.
Benjamin Franklin, then Postmaster-General of England, and agent for
Massachusetts, had secured possession of certain letters written by
Governor Hutchinson and by others in office in the colony. These letters
proved beyond doubt that the Massachusetts officials had been secretly
urging upon the home government repressive measures against the colony.
This was but what Bernard had done, and what had been suspected of his
successor; yet the actual proof was too much for Franklin. He sent the
letters, under pledge of secrecy, home to be read by the leaders among
the Massachusetts Whigs. But the pledge of secrecy could not be kept.
The letters were read in the Assembly and then published. "He had
written," says Bancroft of Hutchinson, "against every part of the
Constitution, the elective character of the Council, the annual choice
of the Assembly, the New England organization of the towns; had advised
and solicited the total dependence of the judiciary on the Crown, had
hinted at making the experiment of declaring Martial Law, and of
abrogating English liberty; had advised to the restraint of the
commerce of Boston and the exclusion of the Province from the
fisheries."[31] Hutchinson's defence was that he "had never wrote any
public or private letter that tends to subvert the Constitution." But he
was thinking of the Constitution rather than the Charter. The province
was thoroughly roused, and sent to England a firm yet respectful
petition demanding his dismissal.

But Hutchinson had been serving the king as the king wished to be
served. The wrath of the government fell upon Franklin. In a crowded
meeting of the Privy Council, with scant respect for the forms of law,
Franklin was subjected to elaborate abuse. There were none to defend him
who could gain a respectful hearing; he stood immovable under the
tongue-lashing of the Solicitor-General, and made no reply. "I have
never," he said afterwards, "been so sensible of the power of a good
conscience, for if I had not considered the thing for which I have been
so much insulted, as one of the best actions of my life, and what I
should certainly do again in the same circumstances, I could not have
supported it."[32] The suit which he wore that day he put carefully
away,