As the first of November approached, that being the day set for
the levying of the tax, attention and discussion came naturally
to center on the stamps rather than on the Stamp Act. Crowds of
curious people gathered wherever there seemed a prospect of
catching a glimpse of the bundles of stamped papers. Upon their
arrival the papers had to be landed; they could therefore be
seen; and the mere sight of them was likely to be a sufficient
challenge to action. It seemed a simple matter to resist a law
which could be of no effect without the existence of certain
papers, paper being a substance easily disposed of. And
everywhere in fact the stamps were disposed of--disposed of by
mobs, with the tacit consent and impalpable encouragement of many
men who, having a reputable position to maintain, would
themselves by no means endure to be seen in a common crowd; men
of good estate whom no one could think of as countenancers of
violence, but who were, on this occasion, as Mr. Livingston said,
"not averse to a little rioting" on condition that it be kept
within bounds and well directed to the attainment of their just
rights.

A little rioting, so easy to be set on foot, was difficult to
keep within reasonable bounds, as Mr. Livingston and his friends
in New York soon discovered, somewhat to their chagrin. In New
York, even after the stamps were surrendered by
Lieutenant-Governor Colden and safely lodged in the Town House,
there were many excesses wholly unnecessary to the attainment of
the original object. Mr. Colden's new chariot, certainly never
designed to carry the stamps, was burned; and on repeated
occasions windows were broken and "particulars" threatened that
their houses would presently be pulled down. Mr. Livingston was