Mr. President Read Free Page B

Although “some unthinking persons” would understandably be tempted to engage in excess, patriots should at all costs abstain from rioting, for “in a cause so solemn, our conduct should be such as to merit the approbation of the wise, and the admiration of the brave and free.” Virtually all documents produced during the Massachusetts rebellion of 1774 contained similar disclaimers against mobs and riots. Rebels were trying not to tear down society but to shore it up and reset its course. They were
good
people, not traitors, and to prove this, they continued to profess allegiance to the crown that embodied their nation and culture—even as King George III opposed their every move.
    In November 1774, upon receiving the latest news from Massachusetts, King George III wrote to Lord North, his prime minister: “The New England governments are in a state of rebellion. Blows must decide whether they are to be subject to this country or independent.” Both the king and Lord North resolved at that moment to squelch the uprising with additional troops. The following spring, the first wave arrived in Boston and was dispatched to Lexington and Concord, where they met armed resistance from people who considered themselves patriotic subjects of the British Crown. The war was on, yet colonial rebels
still
refrained from leveling verbal abuse at the king. Through the summer and fall of 1775, even George Washington, as he commanded an opposition army, blamed the British suppression on the “diabolical ministry” rather than on King George III, who, as commander in chief of the British forces, had actually ordered the military offensive. Routinely, Washington called his opponents on the battlefield “ministerial troops,” in preference to the traditional “King’s troops.” 8
    Delegates to the Continental Congress, continuing the mental gymnastics, implored King George III, with the “utmost deference for your Majesty,” to intervene with his ill-willed ministers. His Majesty’sclosest councillors, they informed him, were “artful and cruel enemies who abuse your royal confidence and authority, for the purpose of effecting our destruction.” Unrealistically, they asked the king to renounce the people he had been trusting to administer his regime for more than a decade. 9
    Finally, on October 27, 1775, in front of a joint session of Parliament, King George III himself chided the rebels and vowed to suppress them. The Americans “meant only to amuse by vague expressions of attachment to the Parent State, and the strongest protestations of loyalty to me, whilst they were preparing for a general revolt,” he told the MPs. Since “the rebellious war now levied … is manifestly carried on for the purpose of establishing an independent empire,” the king vowed “to put a speedy end to these disorders by the most decisive exertions. For this purpose, I have increased my naval establishment, and greatly augmented my land forces.” He also planned to make use of “foreign assistance” to squash the rebellion. 10
    How would Americans respond to this categorical affirmation of enmity from their beloved Majesty?
    In Philadelphia, where the Second Continental Congress was meeting, news of the king’s speech arrived on January 8, 1776. Moderates like James Wilson, refusing to accept the evidence at hand, thought that if Congress made an unequivocal denial of any proclivities toward independence, maybe
that
would finally convince the king to alter the course of his ministers. Others, however, reasoned that since the king himself had broached the subject of independence, that option could finally be placed on the table here in America. The next day, January 9, an anonymous pamphlet called
Common Sense
appeared on the streets of Philadelphia. In truth it was authored not by an American but by a recent English immigrant, Thomas Paine, who had arrived penniless scarcely a year before. Paine was unencumbered by the local