dams, who was then president of the senate, was
strongly opposed to it, and one of his arguments was very
characteristic. "In monarchies," he said, "the crime of treason and
rebellion may admit of being pardoned or lightly punished; but the man
who dares to rebel against the laws of a republic ought to suffer
death." This was Adams's sensitive point. He wanted the whole world to
realize that the rule of a republic is a rule of law and order, and that
liberty does not mean license. But in spite of this view, for which
there was much to be said, the clemency of the American temperament
prevailed, and Governor Hancock pardoned all the prisoners.
Nothing in the history of these disturbances is more instructive than
the light incidentally thrown upon the relations between Congress and
the state government. Just before the news of the rout at Petersham,
Samuel Adams had proposed in the senate that the governor should be
requested to write to Congress and inform that body of what was going on
in Massachusetts, stating that "although the legislature are firmly
persuaded that ... in all probability they will be able speedily and
effectively to suppress the rebellion, yet, if any unforeseen event
should take place which may frustrate the measures of government, they
rely upon such support from the United States as is expressly and
solemnly stipulated by the articles of confederation." A resolution to
this effect was carried in the senate, but defeated in the house through
the influence of western county members in sympathy with the insurgents;
and incredible as it may seem, the argument was freely used that it was
incompatible with the dignity of Massachusetts to allow United States
troops to set foot upon her soil. When we reflect that the arsenal at
Springfield, where the most considerable disturbance occurred, was
itself federal property, the climax of absurdity might seem to have been
reached.
[Sidenote: Congress afraid to interfere.]
It was left for Congress itself, however, to cap that climax. The
progress of the insurrection in the autumn in Vermont, New Hampshire,
and Massachusetts, as well as the troubles in Rhode Island, had alarmed
the whole country. It was feared that the insurgents in these states
might join forces, and in some way kindle a flame that would run through
the land. Accordingly Congress in October called upon the states for a
continental force, but did not dare to declare openly what it was to be
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