against the natural self-government of the people. Suffer it to be done, and colonial liberty was at an end.'

Such is the imperfect sketch of an argument which placed its maker, at one bound, at the head of colonial advocates, elevated him to a place in the highest rank of patriots, and enrolled him among the Americans whose fame is deathless. This is all that is left to us of what produced a most powerful effect upon those who heard it, and of what unquestionably changed the destiny of this country. We cannot possibly now reproduce this speech from what we have of it. It was not committed to writing, nor was it reported. All we have are the notes jotted down at the time by a young man, who, swayed by the overpowering eloquence of the orator, was unable to keep up with his work; the partial reproduction of the speech by the same youth in after life, and his recollections, given when an octogenarian and fiftyseven years after its delivery. Yet even then, though in the meantime he had himself become one of his country's greatest orators, and was one to whom the eloquence of the greatest and best of the civilized world had become familiar, even then the breast of the old man was instinct with the memories of that day, and the aged heart of John Adams was fired anew at the recol lection of James Otis' denunciation of the writs of assistance. After that lapse of time, the wonder is, not that we have an imperfect sketch, but that we have any, and were it not for the remarkable intellect of him who sought to transmit it, we should have none.

Whether the colonists, whose prejudices were naturally in favor of the orator, exaggerated the excellence of his speech, or, whether, astonished and delighted at such unaccustomed elo

In giving this sketch of Otis' speech, I have adopted as nearly as possible the notes and accounts of John Adams, even in language. Adams made minutes of the speech during its delivery, though, as he says in his autobiography, "I was much more attentive to the information and the eloquence of the speaker than to my minutes, and too much alarmed at the prospect that was opened be fore me to care much about writing a report of the controversy.' "Diary, Life and Works," ii, 124, n. Then comes the speech as given in Minot's "History," which may be found, expurgated from interpolations, in the same work, Appendix A, 523. This is also attributed to Mr. Adams. And lastly, his sketch of it given in his letters to Judge Tudor, fifty-seven years after its delivery, which are to be found in the same work, x, pp. 314, et seq.

* Id. ii, Appendix A, 523.

quence, they magnified its worth, we have now no means of judging. There is, however, no mistaking its effect. The judge appointed for the purpose of sanctioning the writ was dumb before the orator, the bar hung upon every word, the audience was still to catch every breath, and his very opponent, once his master in the law, could not conceal his delight in meeting a foeman so worthy of his steel, nor restrain his generous exultation at the glory and triumph of his pupil.

But it was upon the people throughout the colonies that this speech wrought its greatest effect; an effect which deepened its channel as it made its way. The patience which had taken apart, analyzed and compared the different statutes, and then had gathered them together into one system, had not been wasted. The clearness with which the facts were stated and the inferences drawn, had not been in vain. The passionate appeal to justice fell not to the ground, nor did the scorn which lashed the evil-wishers of his country lie dead in the ears of its friends. Although the question was one which arose in Massachusetts only, its importance was felt to the uttermost bounds of the colonies. Attention was at once turned upon the subject of colonial relations with the mother-country; a subject which nearly all had slept upon, until Otis broke this dangerous slumber, and bade them awake. Then all awoke: those who were not of the mercantile interest as well as those who were; and these relations, what they were, what their nature, were they proper, and, if not, what the remedies readiest for their restoration, but, if they were, what the defences best for their protection,-these, and a hundred questions more, became the subjects of universal comment and reflection. Henceforth it will be seen not only that the colonists acted as those who had studied their ground, but that the indifference or ignorance of the old world concerning their attainments, or even their existence, gave way to admiration for the extent of their researches and the depth of their learning. This result, especially in the northern colonies, where the illustration stood ready for the argument, was due to the eloquence and logic of James Otis. When he sat down the American Revolution had been inaugurated. Doubtless neither he, his hearers, the people, nor the government, suspected such a thing: but we now know it to be the fact. The war which, in securing

our independence, gained the name of Revolution, was but the last expression of that mighty change of which Otis' was the first. That terminated what this began,' but this was what foretold the coming storm, and the last words of the orator had hardly died away, before the real American Revolution had set in.'

'Les révolutions que conforme la liberté ne sont qu'une confirmation de la liberté." "Esprit des Lois," liv. xix, chap. xxvii.

"I shall only say, and I do say in the most solemn manner, that Mr. Otis' oration against the Writs of Assistance breathed into this nation the breath of life." "Life and Works of John Adams," x, 276.

A

CHAPTER X.

The Conflict with Absolutism.

T the next term the court decided, that, inasmuch as it appeared that such writs issued from the Exchequer when applied for, the like practice in the province was warranted'; yet the government found no advantage in a decision robbed beforehand of its effect. It, accordingly, desisted from this attempt, and, while there may have been applications, no such writ ever issued.

The government held the position, but could make no use of it further than as a ground on which to parade the rights adjudicated in their favor by judges, whom the irritated people regarded as commissioned for the purpose of deciding as they did. This half-way course of action was the most ill-judged one that could be adopted. One only of two things should have been done : either to enforce the writ now that the court had decided they were in the right, or openly to abandon a policy which had been proved to be odious. If the former had been adopted, the colonists would have at once been driven to submission or resistance. Resistance was out of the question, for the cause of Massachusetts not being a common one, except in sentiment not yet fully formed, she would have had to stand alone, and, incapable of resisting singly, submission would have been her fate, and the power of the government would have been established. If the latter course had been pursued, Massachusetts would have had nothing to oppose, but on the contrary there would have been every consideration of gratitude to bind her with hooks of steel to a parent who, with the right to pursue her course solemnly adjudicated, had 'Hutchinson's "Hist. of Mass.," iii, 94.

generously renounced a policy distasteful to her offspring. But, the truth is, that the government did not fully appreciate the importance of the occasion and the need of discretion. Three thousand miles of ocean and the lapse of a month's duration so deadened the waves of colonial excitement, that, when they fell upon the ear in Whitehall, they hardly created a sensation. The government was continually seeking increase of revenue in one quarter or another, and disappointment was a common affair. This Boston matter was one of a dozen such cases, and no more. "The people do not like this way of raising revenue, though the courts say we are right! Well, we are constantly humoring others, and we suppose we must humor these. Do not act on this decision of the court, then, but hold it in reserve, and, in the meantime, let us try something else." Such was, in effect, the way the matter was regarded and acted upon, and, like all half-measures, this indefinite way of settling a question produced bitter fruit. To the Bostonians, this pigeon-holing what to them was of the greatest interest and of the highest importance, was either incomprehensible or offensive. Was the government irresolute? was it indifferent? Was it letting I would, wait upon I dare not? Had it abandoned the offensive policy? or was it holding it like a sword over their heads in case future exactions brought no favorable answers?

During this state of uncertainty a general sense of uneasiness spread over the colonies. For the first time something had really come between the mother and her children, and distrust had taken root. The attempt to enforce the Sugar Acts as revenue laws could not be forgotten in a day; indeed, there was nothing to hinder its repetition, and it was but too apparent, that, instead of being one and the same with that of England, the spirit of the colonies was now something different. Dissension had entered the camp, and, though there was no conflict, there were, without contradiction, two parties whose leaders, while on their faces friends, mistrusted each other in their hearts, and sulked in their tents. Confidence was gone. What will the government do next? was the apprehensive whisper throughout America. What next step toward revenue from the colonies shall we take? was the question asked at Westminster.

George Grenville, at that time the leader of the ministry, was