bonum,
or the supreme good, which was the preservation of the liberty and happiness of his subjects, wherever they might reside.
This end, stressed Reisdale on paper, was demonstrably not served by the Stamp Act.
Following that notion, he wished to dwell on the corruption and confiscationof wealth caused by the customs and regulatory machinery, and in great detail to illustrate the destruction caused by ancient Roman sumptuary laws, which taxed or punished luxuries. Then he would argue that the Stamp Act would render colonial courts a luxury and in time put them beyond the means of most of His Majesty’s subjects in North America, as well as so many articles of British manufacture upon which the colonials had become dependent as necessities. The Act would thus reduce most industrious and thrifty colonials to a state of rightless, voiceless, and hopeless beggary, and foster an altogether different breed of lawlessness and dishonesty.
Next, he planned to rail in decent terms against the provisions in the Act that empowered vice-admiralty courts exclusively to try offenses concerning stamps. The number and convenience of those courts, he asserted, was not irrelevant; their “generous” multiplication from one to four simply multiplied the opportunities to try Englishmen without benefit of jury or justice.
Next, he wished to weave into his argument the reasoning of John Locke, Hugo Grotius, and other proponents of natural rights and natural law, and delve into the moral legitimacy of protesting and even flouting Crown authority concerning the noxious Stamp Act.
He wished to conclude his address with the assertion that the Act represented a declaration of pecuniary war against the colonies, and that it was no less a precedent than when Roman Emperor Sulla, for the first time in that republic’s history, lead an army of Romans against fellow Romans. The Stamp Act contained in its presumption of power all the violence of a siege and the wastage of a perpetual tribute paid to a besieging army. He would assert that destruction of liberty and property under the Act was as certain and guaranteed as if Parliament had chosen to employ engines of war to collect revenue by means of fire and sword instead of by the innocuous stamps, the minor difference being the subtlety versus the immediacy of that destruction.
But what confounded Reisdale was his desire to couch his argument in “modest” language, certainly more modest language than that of the Resolves of last May. Like many men in that critical time, he was emboldened by the Resolves, yet frightened or intimidated by them, as well. What perplexed him was that no matter how gently he composed and arranged his arguments, there was in them an element of violence and implacable, offensive certitude that he could neither tame nor eradicate.
When his servant announced the arrival of Hugh Kenrick, Reisdale reluctantly, but with a sigh of relief, put his pen and draft aside and made his guest welcome in the library, and ordered that a pitcher of lemon punch be brought in. After an exchange of pleasantries and comments on the much-needed rain that fell in rivulets down his library windowpanes, he asked Hugh the purpose of his visit.
Hugh queried him on the idea of standing for burgess in opposition to Edgar Cullis.
Reisdale rose and paced back and forth before his guest for a moment, then retired to his commodious armchair. He shook his head and said that he declined even to weigh the possibility of a more public role in the county’s affairs. “I should need to surrender my place as chief magistrate here, Mr. Kenrick,” he said, “and that I am not prepared to do.” He shook his head again. “You must, of course, know that you are not the first to solicit my candidacy. It has been necessary for me to request my past erstwhile sponsors to withdraw my name, and on numerous occasions.”
“Why are you so unwilling?” asked Hugh.
Reisdale cocked his head. “For many
or the supreme good, which was the preservation of the liberty and happiness of his subjects, wherever they might reside.
This end, stressed Reisdale on paper, was demonstrably not served by the Stamp Act.
Following that notion, he wished to dwell on the corruption and confiscationof wealth caused by the customs and regulatory machinery, and in great detail to illustrate the destruction caused by ancient Roman sumptuary laws, which taxed or punished luxuries. Then he would argue that the Stamp Act would render colonial courts a luxury and in time put them beyond the means of most of His Majesty’s subjects in North America, as well as so many articles of British manufacture upon which the colonials had become dependent as necessities. The Act would thus reduce most industrious and thrifty colonials to a state of rightless, voiceless, and hopeless beggary, and foster an altogether different breed of lawlessness and dishonesty.
Next, he planned to rail in decent terms against the provisions in the Act that empowered vice-admiralty courts exclusively to try offenses concerning stamps. The number and convenience of those courts, he asserted, was not irrelevant; their “generous” multiplication from one to four simply multiplied the opportunities to try Englishmen without benefit of jury or justice.
Next, he wished to weave into his argument the reasoning of John Locke, Hugo Grotius, and other proponents of natural rights and natural law, and delve into the moral legitimacy of protesting and even flouting Crown authority concerning the noxious Stamp Act.
He wished to conclude his address with the assertion that the Act represented a declaration of pecuniary war against the colonies, and that it was no less a precedent than when Roman Emperor Sulla, for the first time in that republic’s history, lead an army of Romans against fellow Romans. The Stamp Act contained in its presumption of power all the violence of a siege and the wastage of a perpetual tribute paid to a besieging army. He would assert that destruction of liberty and property under the Act was as certain and guaranteed as if Parliament had chosen to employ engines of war to collect revenue by means of fire and sword instead of by the innocuous stamps, the minor difference being the subtlety versus the immediacy of that destruction.
But what confounded Reisdale was his desire to couch his argument in “modest” language, certainly more modest language than that of the Resolves of last May. Like many men in that critical time, he was emboldened by the Resolves, yet frightened or intimidated by them, as well. What perplexed him was that no matter how gently he composed and arranged his arguments, there was in them an element of violence and implacable, offensive certitude that he could neither tame nor eradicate.
When his servant announced the arrival of Hugh Kenrick, Reisdale reluctantly, but with a sigh of relief, put his pen and draft aside and made his guest welcome in the library, and ordered that a pitcher of lemon punch be brought in. After an exchange of pleasantries and comments on the much-needed rain that fell in rivulets down his library windowpanes, he asked Hugh the purpose of his visit.
Hugh queried him on the idea of standing for burgess in opposition to Edgar Cullis.
Reisdale rose and paced back and forth before his guest for a moment, then retired to his commodious armchair. He shook his head and said that he declined even to weigh the possibility of a more public role in the county’s affairs. “I should need to surrender my place as chief magistrate here, Mr. Kenrick,” he said, “and that I am not prepared to do.” He shook his head again. “You must, of course, know that you are not the first to solicit my candidacy. It has been necessary for me to request my past erstwhile sponsors to withdraw my name, and on numerous occasions.”
“Why are you so unwilling?” asked Hugh.
Reisdale cocked his head. “For many
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