The
Revolution That Should Not Have
Happened
by Ed Weber
By
the rude bridge that arched the
flood,
Their flag to April's breeze
unfurled,
Here
once the embattled farmers
stood,
And fired the shot heard round
the world.
So begins
Ralph Waldo Emerson's "Concord Hymn,"
celebrating the shots exchanged by
Massachusetts militia and British
soldiers at Concord Bridge and
Lexington Green on April 19, 1775 (now
a holiday in Massachusetts, Patriot's
Day), now considered the first
military engagement of the American
Revolutionary War. (1)
We are so
familiar with the iconography of this
beginning of our national
story—Washington upright in a rowboat,
crossing the Delaware, or "The Spirit
of '76" by Archibald Willard, with its
two drummers, one young and one old,
marching beside a piper with a
bandaged head—that it all seems right
and necessary and inevitable. The
ringing phrases of Jefferson's
"Declaration of Independence," the
deliberation that produced the bold
experiment of the Constitution—how can
they be anything but what should have
happened, what had to happen?
But suppose
we take a few minutes to entertain a
contrary point of view. The Battle of
Concord was the beginning of a war
that should not have happened. The
British had blundered badly; wiser
heads had not prevailed. Once
begun, the war should not have been
allowed to go on, but it did for more
than six years, at a tremendous loss
of life. 25,000 Americans
died, a larger proportion of the
American population than was lost in
any other American war, excepting only
the Civil War. And it was not
inevitable at all.
The American
Colonies in 1763
To understand
the American Revolution, we have to
look back at the year 1763. The
French and Indian War, known in Europe
as the Seven Years War, has just
ended. France has been defeated
in Canada and has been driven out of
the Ohio Valley and upstate New York.
It has been called the "war that made
America."
At that time
there were two-and-a-half million
people living in the thirteen American
colonies. They considered themselves
to be loyal subjects of the British
crown. They are not calling for
independence, but they do want respect
for their rights as British
citizens. They and their
families before them have come to
America seeking liberty, a fresh
start, a better life, and in some
cases freedom of religion.
It is quite a
mix, with people of many kinds: the
Dutch in Manhattan, the English in
Virginia, the Puritans in
Massachusetts, the Quakers who arrived
under William Penn in Pennsylvania,
Roman Catholics who arrived under Lord
Baltimore in Maryland, French fur
traders along the upper Ohio and in
upstate New York, and the Spanish in
Florida. There are the rich and the
poor, the educated and the illiterate,
gentlemen of refinement and elegant
women as well as rough and tumble
drifters and workers barely getting
by. Many are farmers. Many
are ex-prisoners who traded their
prison sentences to come over as
indentured servants.
Each colony
was under a charter from the crown and
a governor appointed by the
king. Each colony had an elected
assembly that passed laws regulating
the internal life of the colony and
setting the taxes that paid the
expenses of government, including the
salary of the governor. But laws
passed by the English Parliament
always took supremacy.
America
became a profit center for Britain.
Mercantilism (the theory that a
nation's economic policy should seek
to maximize exports), exemplified in
the Navigation Acts, regulated all of
the colonies' trade. All imports to
the American colonies had to originate
in England and had to be carried on
British ships while the colonies were
prohibited from exporting manufactured
goods. Raw materials could be
exported, but only to Britain, nowhere
else. All of the great white
pines in the forests of New England
were reserved for export to Britain
for use as masts on ships built there.
This was great for British
manufacturers, merchants, traders, and
shippers, as America was a big
market. It is easy to see why
Britain very badly wanted to keep
America in the British empire.
There were no
colonial members of Parliament.
In their need to make Parliament
understand the colonies' point of view
and what the colonies wanted, the
colonies sent agents; today we would
call them lobbyists. Parliament
had no understanding of how life was
being lived in America. No
member of Parliament had ever visited
America, and some of them thought it
was mostly a land of savages.
Ben Franklin was the foremost of these
colonial agents, representing
Pennsylvania and later one or two
other colonies. He arrived in
1757 and except for two years did not
come back to America until 1775.
As for
Britain, 1763 was a different
story. Britain's treasury had
been bled dry by the war which it had
fought not only in North America but
also in Europe and in the islands of
the Caribbean. Under the Prime
Minister William Pitt, the war had
been won by outspending France and
Spain: by building a bigger navy and
hiring mercenaries and providing
whatever equipment, guns, and
munitions they needed. Britain's
war debt was enormous and
ongoing. It would keep a force
of 10,000 British soldiers in the
colonies to repel the French, who
still held Louisiana and the mouth of
the Mississippi, if they tried to
retake what they had lost.
The
disastrous condition of the British
exchequer brought about a series of
taxes on the colonies. Britain's
tax base had always been land—land
taxes paid by the nobility on their
large estates. That source had
reached its limit, or so they
believed, especially the land-owning
interests in the Tory party. Now, said
the British, it was only fair that the
colonies pay their share of the costs
of saving them from the French.
British blood had been shed.
General James Wolfe had died on the
Plains of Abraham to take Quebec.
There would be a standing army of
British soldiers to block the French
permanently. It was the duty of the
colonies to pay their share.
The colonists
did not see it the same way.
American blood had also been
shed. Although not as many
colonial militiamen had been in the
fighting, the colonials had maintained
the supply lines. Roads had been
built by their labor; food had been
supplied from their fields. They
believed their contribution to the war
effort had been the equal of what the
British had expended. They were
entitled to be treated as
equals.
The New Taxes
Although the Declaration of
Independence on July 4, 1776 recites a
long list of colonial grievances that
accumulated as time went on, the focus
of the dispute that came to dominate
the relationship between England and
its American colonies was always on
taxes. As one tax failed,
another took its place.
1764: the Sugar Tax, actually a
tariff on a wide range of goods.
1765: the Stamp Act, replacing the
Sugar Tax, requiring a government
stamp on every document, every paper
of any kind. The Quartering Act also
went into effect in 1765, requiring
the colonies to pay for the shelter
and supplies of any British troops in
the colony.
1767: the Townshend Acts, essentially
the Sugar Tax over again. In
1770 the Townshend Acts were repealed,
except for the tax on tea. The East
India Tea Company was granted a
monopoly on all tea imported to the
colonies, to shut down any other tea
coming in, especially tea getting in
from the Dutch.
1774: the Coercive Acts, closing the
port of Boston in retaliation for the
Boston Tea Party.
There were strong voices in Parliament
who could see that taxation was a
no-win plan. The former
prime minister, William Pitt, rose to
call for the repeal of the Stamp Act
and declared, "I rejoice that America
has resisted." (He was shouted
down with a roar and cries of "Send
him to the Tower!") Edmund Burke spoke
often for the colonies, describing
Parliament's actions as "insane." John
Wilkes and Isaac Barré, for whom the
town of Wilkes-Barre in Pennsylvania
is named, spoke out strongly for the
colonies. Others spoke out, calling
the taxes a "disgrace," an
"absurdity," insisting the government
was asserting a point of honor to
prove its supremacy rather than
pursuing a reasonable policy, even
that the cost of collecting the taxes
would turn out to be greater than the
amount collected. But this opposition
was disorganized and never came near
to stopping the misplaced efforts to
collect one or the other of the
various taxes or preventing the war
itself.
Without
intending to, Parliament had fanned
the patriotic fires in America.
Parliament failed to understand that
sovereignty could not be exercised
without the goodwill and the voluntary
desire of the colonists.
Sovereignty at the point of a bayonet
is not worth the
cost.
The Mounting
Opposition
At first
there was no movement in the colonies
for independence, but the passion to
be a new nation slowly began and
picked up steam each time Parliament
and King George slammed the colonies
with another tax. With each tax
there was more resistance, greater
public opposition, and stronger
patriotic enthusiasm. In
time, the force of circumstances made
independence the colonists'
goal.
Public
opposition to these taxes took
different forms. There were public
rallies, such as in Boston in 1764
where Sam Adams and James Otis stirred
people up with the slogan, "No
taxation without
representation." There were
boycotts of English goods, so
effective that factories in Britain
were shut down and workers lost their
jobs.
Violence erupted often. On the
docks, gangs blocked ships from coming
in. British customs agents were
chased by mobs and ran for their lives
to the safety of a British warship in
Boston harbor. Buildings where the
Stamp Act was being administered were
burned down, as was the royal
lieutenant governor's house in
Massachusetts. Colonial militias
refused to obey orders to put down the
mobs when law and order broke down,
putting more pressure on British
troops. The Boston Massacre of 1770
was sparked when a mob ganged up on a
British sentry; a patrol came to his
rescue and fired on the crowd.
Five colonials were killed.
Then came the
Boston Tea Party of 1773: 340 chests
of tea were dumped into Boston harbor.
Similar rebellious activities occurred
at other ports.
George III
and his advisors decided sterner
measures were in order. In June
1774, Parliament closed the port of
Boston and sent in more soldiers. This
brought about real hardship in
Boston. People starved, despite
donations of food and money arriving
from all over the colonies. Some
Bostonians were forced to evacuate to
stay alive. In nearby towns, militia
known as the "Minutemen" began drills
three times a week.
In January
1775 London ordered the arrest of Sam
Adams and John Hancock, Boston's most
vocal and most active opponents of the
crown. They were tipped off and
escaped. General Thomas Gage, military
governor of the province of
Massachusetts Bay, declined to pursue,
instead ordering troops to take over
the colonial munitions held in
Concord.
As the many
who later memorized Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow's beloved poem know, "on
the eighteenth of April, in Seventy
Five," two lanterns placed in the
steeple of Old North Church alerted
the Minutemen that the British were
coming by way of the Charles
River. Paul Revere crossed in a
rowboat and made his great horseback
ride, sounding the alarm to the
townsmen. Leaving Boston by
land, William Dawes did the
same. The battles at Lexington
Green and Concord Bridge the next day
ended with seventy-three British dead
and 174 wounded, to the patriots'
forty-nine dead and forty wounded.
Point of No Return
In May 1775,
Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain
Boys of Vermont captured Fort
Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain.
Benedict Arnold was there also, but
not very welcome.
In June 1775
was the Battle of Bunker Hill, which
overlooked the Boston Harbor.
There were short range cannon on the
site that the British wanted to knock
out. They achieved it, but at
great cost: 1,054 British dead or
wounded. General Gage had now
suffered two major defeats and was
replaced by General Howe.
All along the
colonies had been to organizing. In
1765, the Stamp Act congress gathered
in New York, with nine colonies
represented. In 1774, the First
Continental Congress convened in
Philadelphia, and the colonies began
acting collectively rather than
separately. Patrick Henry rose to
announce, "I am not a Virginian, but
an American." A year later, the
Second Continental Congress chose
George Washington as
commander-in-chief.
Regiments of
militia from New England, New York and
Pennsylvania rallied in Cambridge
outside Boston. In the summer
Washington came and took
command. The British, now
numbering 9,000 soldiers, lay low in
Boston throughout the winter of
1776. At that time, Boston
occupied a peninsula into the Charles
River Basin; a narrow neck of land was
the only way the British could get
out, and that was blocked by the
militia. They were supplied by their
ships.
To end the
stalemate, Washington needed
cannons. In a herculean effort
led by General Henry Knox, the cannons
Ethan Allen had captured at Fort
Ticonderoga were brought across the
mountains, pulled by oxen trudging
through the snow. In secret,
they were mounted on Dorchester
Heights commanding the Boston harbor
before the spring thaw.
When the
British discovered their changed
circumstances, they were in
shock. Washington had them
under his thumb. The British
quickly offered a deal: allow us to
evacuate or we will put Boston to the
torch. On March 17, in Boston
still celebrated as "Evacuation Day"
in conjunction with St. Patrick's Day,
the 9,000 British soldiers sailed off
on 125 ships. Boston was
redeemed. The Continentals had
triumphed. The war was on, and
there was no turning back.
How could the
war have been avoided?
It would have been simple enough for
Parliament to drop any idea of laying
taxes on the colonies to pay the war
debt, although of course that would
have left Britain's budget problem
still in need of a solution.
Colonial
outrage over "taxation without
representation" could have been
allayed by making colonial
representatives members of
Parliament. Early on, Franklin
had advocated this and believed it
would satisfy the colonies.
Representation in Parliament was never
offered, however, and the Stamp Act
Congress, convinced that the colonial
representatives would always be
outvoted anyway, never mentioned it
again.
Perhaps,
though, some sort of federation could
have been agreed upon. This
would happen in Canada in 1867 when it
achieved status as a dominion in the
British empire. At first, most
Americans wanted to stay in the
empire. Franklin's objective in
1764 was to preserve America as a part
of the empire. In 1768, the
Massachusetts Assembly officially
disavowed any thought of
independence. Even the Stamp Act
Congress organized by Sam Adams and
John Adams in 1765 officially
proclaimed that its delegates "most
ardently [desired] perpetual
continuance of their ties with
Britain."
What the
colonies were seeking was home
rule—autonomy in their affairs.
In 1765 Prime Minister Grenville at
one point proposed to Franklin and the
other colonial agents that the British
government could tell the colonies how
much revenue was required for their
defense, and the colonies then could
raise that amount however they saw
fit. By the time authority came back
to the agents to accept such a plan,
however, Grenville's offer was off the
table.
Once it
began, could the war have been ended
sooner? Not without
independence, and for the British
independence was non-negotiable, while
for the Americans there would be no
negotiation without
independence.
The
turning-point came at Saratoga, New
York on October 17, 1777, when a
British army of 8,000 men surrendered,
laid down their arms, and agreed to be
shipped home. It was a stunning
defeat. Within two weeks the
French recognized the United States as
a new nation. One week later,
France entered the war. Britain
was in disgrace.
Three British
envoys acting as a peace commission
came to Philadelphia with authority to
give in on everything that had led to
war, but not on independence. At this
juncture, they would have been
negotiating from weakness, but in fact
no negotiations took place; the
colonials would not meet unless
independence was guaranteed first.
Sailing home in November 1778, William
Eden, one of the British commissioners
wrote, "It is impossible to see what I
see of this magnificent country and
not go nearly mad at the long train of
misconducts and mistakes by which we
have lost it" (qtd. in Tuchman 224).
Three year
later, his escape cut off by the
French fleet on the James River,
Cornwallis surrendered at
Yorktown. It was October
17, 1781. All hostilities ended
about six months later.
In November
1782, the Treaty of Paris was agreed
upon. Ben Franklin, John Adams,
John Jay and Henry Laurens acted for
the United States. The British were
insulting; no minister, peer, member
of parliament, or cabinet member came
to the table. A London merchant,
Richard Oswald, was the only British
representative.
The loss of
America had been a colossal British
blunder. But for King George,
America was sour grapes anyway.
He considered all of the Americans to
be a deceitful bunch of villains, and
now he was glad not to have them.
Thus happened
the revolution that should not have
happened. But I'm glad it
did.
Note
(1) The
author wishes to thank the editor
of The Torch for his
contributions to the final version of
this article.
Further Reading
Bunker, Nick.
An Empire on the Edge: How Britain
Came to Fight America. Knopf,
2014.
Middlekauff, Robert. The Glorious
Cause: The American Revolution,
1763-1789. Oxford History of
the United States. Expanded
edition. Oxford UP, 2007.
Morgan, Edmund. The Birth of the
Republic, 1763-89. U of Chicago P,
1956.
Raphael, Ray, and Marie Raphael. The
Spirit of '74: How the American
Revolution Began. New Press,
2015.
Tuchman, Barbara. The March of Folly.
Ballantine Books, 1984.
Wood, Gordon. The American
Revolution: A History. Modern
Library, 2002.
---. The Radicalism of the American
Revolution. Knopf, 1991.
---, ed. Writings from the Pamphlet
Debate, 1764-1776. 2 vols. Library
of America, 2015.
About the Author
Ed Weber is a retired
attorney living in his hometown of
Toledo, Ohio. Educated in the public
schools, he went to Denison University
for his B.A. In 1953, where he was Phi
Beta Kappa, and to Harvard Law School
for his LL.B in 1956. In 1980 he
was elected to the United States
Congress, where he served for one
term.
While practicing law, Ed found time to
be Scoutmaster to a Boy Scout troop
and to teach as an adjunct professor
in the Law College of the University
of Toledo. His hobbies include walking
his Labradoodle a mile before
breakfast each day, playing clarinet
in a community band, and singing in
the church choir.
He
and his wife Alice have been married
for 60 years. They have three children
and six grandchildren.
His "Lindbergh's Flight" appeared in
the Winter 2018 issue of The
Torch.
"The Revolution That Should Not Have
Happened" was presented to the Toledo
Torch club on February 20, 2018.