When M. de Choiseul was thus writing to M. Durand, the English government had already justified the fears of its wisest and most sagacious friends.  On the 7th of March, 1765, after a short and unimportant debate, Parliament, on the motion of Mr. George Grenville, then first lord of the treasury, had extended to the American colonies the stamp-tax everywhere in force in England.  The proposal had been brought forward in the preceding year, but the protests of the colonists had for some time retarded its discussion.  “The Americans are an ungrateful people,” said Townshend; “they are children settled in life by our care and nurtured by our indulgence.”  Pitt was absent.  Colonel Barre rose:  “Settled by your care!” he exclaimed; “nay, it was your oppression which drove them to America; to escape from your tyranny, they exposed themselves in the desert to all the ills that human nature can endure!  Nurtured by your indulgence!  Nay, they have grown by reason of your indifference; and do not forget that these people, loyal as they are, are as jealous as they were at the first of their liberties, and remain animated by the same spirit that caused the exile of their ancestors.”  This was the only protest.  “Nobody voted on the other side in the House of Lords,” said George Grenville at a later period.

In America the effect was terrible and the dismay profound.  The Virginia House was in session; nobody dared to speak against a measure which struck at all the privileges of the colonies and went to the hearts of the loyal gentlemen still passionately attached to the mother-country.  A young barrister, Patrick Henry, hardly known hitherto, rose at last, and in an unsteady voice said, “I propose to the vote of the Assembly the following resolutions:  ’Only the general Assembly of this colony has the right and power to impose taxes on the inhabitants of this colony; every attempt to invest with this power any person or body whatever other than the said general Assembly has a manifest tendency to destroy at one and the same time British and American liberties.’” Then becoming more and more animated and rising to eloquence by sheer force of passion:  “Tarquin and Caesar,” he exclaimed, “had each their Brutus; Charles I. had his Cromwell, and George III. . . .”  “Treason! treason!” was shouted on all sides . . . “will doubtless profit by their example,” continued Patrick Henry proudly, without allowing himself to be moved by the wrath of the government’s friends.  His resolutions were voted by 20 to 19.

The excitement in America was communicated to England; it served the political purposes and passions of Mr. Pitt; he boldly proposed in the House of Commons the repeal of the stamp-tax.  “The colonists,” he said, “are subjects of this realm, having, like yourselves, a title to the special privileges of Englishmen; they are bound by the English laws, and, in the same measure as yourselves, have a right to the liberties of this country.  The Americans