The Boston Tea Party

by Rebecca Paley

  The protests grew larger and louder as the summer went on. One of the most vocal groups was the Sons of Liberty. The members of the group included lawyers, merchants, and master craftsmen. Some of these men published articles in newspapers or pamphlets that described their points of view. These articles were often read out loud in taverns and other public places where other men were convinced by their arguments and joined the cause against the Stamp Act.

  On August 14, 1765, the Sons of Liberty met to protest the taxes and hung an image of the city’s stamp tax agent, Andrew Oliver, on a branch of a tree. The mob took torches to the effigy, or image, lighting it on fire. But that wasn’t enough to satisfy their rage. They marched to Oliver’s home and broke windows and tore down his fences. Then some men burst in the door, probably wanting to confront Oliver, but he wasn’t there.

  The Sons of Liberty targeted the highest elected officials, including Thomas Hutchinson, lieutenant governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and a firm friend of the government. On August 26, an angry mob showed up at his home and smashed down the front door with an ax. Others climbed through broken windows. They took everything they could get their hands on, including clothing, silver, and paintings. They might have taken Hutchinson himself had he not escaped in the nick of time to a neighbor’s house. “Such ruins were never seen in America,” Hutchinson later wrote of the attack on his house.

  Thomas Hutchinson

  Back in Britain, word of the violence and protests shocked many in Parliament. They viewed America as a “rebellious child” who needed to be punished.

  In the end, Britain decided to repeal the Stamp Act on March 18, 1766. They took it back because the protests were hurting British companies financially. However, the war over taxation without representation was far from over.

  My cousin Charles knows that I love horses, so after I unpacked, he took me to visit the stable, where he let me brush his horse, Mercury.

  “Mercury is a fine horse,” I said. “You have raised him well.”

  “We’ve raised each other,” said Charles. “I’ve had Mercury since he was a colt and I was a lad. Look, I’ll show you.” Charles unlocked a cupboard, drew out a leather pouch, and handed me a document. “This is the bill of sale from when Father bought Mercury for me eight years ago, in 1765.”

  “What’s this bumpy part?” I asked, rubbing my finger over a raised design stamped on one corner of the paper.

  Charles frowned. “That,” he said, “is British robbery.”

  What an odd thing to say! “What do you mean?” I asked him.

  “The Stamp Act,” Charles explained. “We colonists had to pay a tax on any official paper, like bills of sale, newspapers, contracts, even playing cards. This stamp is proof that the tax was paid.”

  “Playing cards? But that seems silly,” I exclaimed. “Why would anyone pass such a petty law?”

  “Greed,” said Charles. “That’s the reason for all the king’s unfair taxes.”

  “Is it still the law?” I asked. Father sells playing cards in his store, and I don’t remember seeing any stamps on them.

  “No,” said Charles. “Mother and Father and others protested so hard that the Stamp Act was repealed. But the injustice of it won’t ever be forgotten.” He sighed. “And the British just keep demanding other taxes, like the tax on—”

  “Tea,” we said together.

  It’s no wonder the Patriots’ anger is boiling over, like a kettle that’s been on the fire too long. And it’s no wonder my sympathy for the Patriots’ cause is growing stronger, too.

  The Green Dragon Tavern on Union Street in Boston’s North End was always a lively place. On one night, the mood in the smoke-filled public house was especially rowdy. A group of young men, including blacksmiths, cabinetmakers, printers, and cobblers, were huddled in a corner, banging their mugs of ale and puffing on their pipes. The owner of the tavern let them be, knowing the men needed to blow off some steam. After all, this was the meeting of the Boston chapter of the Sons of Liberty, and the men had a lot to be angry about.

  The shouts and protests grew louder as one of the men stood to speak. He was in his mid-forties and wore shabby clothes and a cheap wig. His hands trembled. Who was this man? This was Samuel Adams, one of the fiercest Patriots in the colonies. He was extremely well educated, having studied at Harvard College. Though he could have made a lot of money, perhaps working as a lawyer, Adams was not interested in wealth or things like a nice house and fancy clothing. All he cared about was justice and liberty for the colonists in America. Adams was tireless in his fight for freedom. When he wasn’t leading protest marches or holding meetings at the local tavern, he was writing letters to newspapers like the Boston-Gazette and Country Journal to express his opinions on freedom and the British government. His writings also appeared in broadsides, large sheets of paper that were tacked to walls, posts, and trees. Adams’s writings and speeches were so persuasive that he was known in Britain as “the most dangerous man in Massachusetts.” The British disliked Adams for his ability to convince colonists that independence from English rule was best for their future. They feared—and respected—the way Adams’s fiery speeches inspired the colonists to take action.

  Samuel Adams

  Addressing his fellow Sons of Liberty at the Green Dragon Tavern, Adams whipped the men into a frenzy with his account of the British Parliament’s latest attack on liberty: the Townshend Acts. Named for Charles Townshend, the British official who introduced the new measures to Parliament, the acts called for new taxes on British goods entering the colonies. This time, colonists would have to pay extra money on products like glass, paint, and tea.

  The men left the tavern that night wanting more than ever to fight for their freedom. They no longer wanted to be under British control. Meanwhile, Britain sent more troops to the colonies to suppress the protests and ensure that its inspectors and agents could collect the new taxes.

  Tensions between the two groups quickly grew. Throughout the colonies, Patriots continued to boycott British products. Many also continued their violent behavior.

  In the spring of 1768, a mob rioted when John Hancock’s ship was seized by a tax collector. Hancock, one of the Sons of Liberty and a well-known smuggler of wine, had docked his ship (called—what else?—Liberty) in Boston Harbor. The chief customs agent, Joseph Harrison, suspected Hancock had broken the law and wanted to inspect his ship. So he enlisted the help of two British warships that were in the harbor. While British sailors tied the Liberty to one of their ships, angry Boston residents gathered on the docks to protest. Later, a mob vandalized the home of one of the customs officers and even burned one of their boats!

  John Hancock

  Back in England, King George was growing more and more frustrated with the actions of his “rebellious child.” In 1768, he decided to send a message by dispatching four thousand troops to Boston, a city with fewer than seventeen thousand residents. The presence of so many Redcoats, as the troops were known because of their bright red uniforms, angered the people of Boston.

  King George III, circa 1768

  By 1770, fights between Patriots and Loyalists were becoming more common. Teenagers would taunt the British soldiers, calling them names and pelting them with rocks, oyster shells, rotten eggs, or whatever they could get their hands on. On the afternoon of March 5, 1770, one of these skirmishes broke out between a group of boys and some British soldiers.

  One of the boys shouted an insult at the British soldiers. Another boy packed a snowball and hurled it at the officer. None of the boys were armed, but the soldiers were probably on edge because a few days earlier, a mob of angry Bostonians had beaten up a group of off-duty British soldiers.

  As more Patriots joined the crowd, the scene became increasingly tense. Another round of snowballs was thrown at the soldiers. Despite repeated warnings from the troops, the crowd refused to break up.

  Then, all of a sudden, someone shouted, “Fire!” A nervous soldier fired his gun
, thinking that the order came from his captain. Other soldiers did the same, filling the air with gun smoke. When the smoke cleared, three colonists were dead and many more were injured.

  Five Patriots died that day. The first person killed was Crispus Attucks, a runaway slave who had started a new life in Boston as a sailor. He is considered the first casualty of the American Revolution. More than twelve thousand people came to the funerals of Attucks and his fellow victims.

  Crispus Attucks

  As tragic as the event was, Samuel Adams saw in it the opportunity to stir up more resentment toward the British. He began referring to the incident as the Boston Massacre. He later wrote, “The country shall be independent and we will be satisfied with nothing short of it.”

  One of Adams’s friends was Paul Revere, who was well-known as a talented silversmith. He had learned the art from his father, who died when Paul was nineteen. Revere was also an excellent horseman—a talent that would come in handy during the later battles between the British and the colonists. But his first involvement with the Patriots came through his work as a copperplate engraver. In addition to the business cards and store signs that Revere engraved, he created political cartoons etched into and printed from sheets of copper.

  After the Boston Massacre, Revere made a cartoon of the event, showing British troops opening fire on a group of innocent colonists. It wasn’t a totally accurate depiction of the event, but it succeeded in making the Patriots even angrier toward the British.

  King George, however, was not about to give in to all the anger and protests. If anything, he was prepared to hit back even harder.

  Although coffee would eventually become America’s favorite hot beverage, the people of the thirteen colonies were all about their tea. They loved sipping the hot water steeped in the carefully cured leaves, which were grown in China and shipped to America from England and other parts of Europe.

  Some colonists believed that tea had the power to help the sick get better, while others simply liked the taste. But they all drank it daily, and often a few times a day. The wealthy served it in beautiful tea sets made of china. Afternoon tea was a social event where people gathered in their parlors or kitchens to gossip or discuss politics. Formal invitations might have been sent out to guests, but food was rarely on the menu. The custom of serving pastries like crumpets, cakes, and scones along with tea service didn’t develop until the 1800s.

  Despite the lack of snacks, the tea party was definitely a status symbol that allowed the lady of the house to display all the silver on her elaborate tea tray as she prepared the perfect brew. Even children hosted their own tea parties now and then.

  Samuel Adams enjoyed a cup of tea in the morning and at night as much as the other Patriots. That’s part of the reason they were so angry when the Tea Act—a law giving one British company control over all the tea traded in the colonies—was passed by Parliament on May 10, 1773. The East India Company, a British company that sold tea from Asia all over the world, had fallen on hard times and wasn’t making as much money as it used to. Why? One reason is because the company had an oversupply of tea. They had produced too much and were not selling enough. The colonies were drinking cheaper Dutch tea that was smuggled in. By the mid-1700s, nearly three-quarters of the tea consumed in America was smuggled. That took a major toll on the East India Company’s profits.

  The situation came to a boil in 1772 when the East India Company was stuck with eighteen million pounds of unsold tea. Something had to be done, or the tea would rot away in its warehouse and the company might go out of business.

  Members of the British government wanted to help the East India Company because it was a very important part of England’s economy. So Parliament passed the Tea Act. It said the colonists could only buy tea from the East India Company.

  When the colonists learned of the Tea Act, in the fall of 1773, they were furious. Although this wasn’t a tax, it was yet another instance of England telling the colonists what they could and couldn’t do. And most colonists were sick and tired of Britain’s costly rules. They wanted the freedom to make their own decisions.

  In cities up and down the coast, including Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, protesters urged tea merchants to stop trading with the East India Company. When East India tea showed up in stores, the protesters boycotted them. A women’s organization, the Daughters of Liberty, started making alternative “Liberty Tea” out of herbs and flowers such as rose hips. The Daughters of Liberty also participated in the protests and riots started by the Sons of Liberty. Additionally, when there was a shortage of fabric, the Daughters of Liberty organized “spinning bees,” where groups of women transformed the lonely chore of spinning wool into a fun group activity. On one occasion, nearly one hundred Daughters of Liberty gathered with their wheels in a Newport, Rhode Island, meetinghouse, where they spent the day spinning 170 skeins of yarn that could be made into fabric.

  Meanwhile, the Sons of Liberty continued to organize and plot. In Boston, a chapter of the organization, led by Samuel Adams, met daily to discuss what they should do about the situation. Yet no matter how angry the Patriots grew, King George and Parliament refused to repeal or take back the Tea Act.

  In September 1773, seven British ships loaded with 2,000 wooden chests containing 600,000 pounds of tea set sail for the colonies.

  News of the ships loaded with tea and headed their way enraged Boston’s residents. A mob took to the streets and made for the home of Richard Clarke, one of the East India Company’s local merchants. When they reached his house, they started breaking windows. Clarke and his family, hiding inside, were terrified. The protesters didn’t stop their rioting until someone in the house fired a gun into the crowd.

  Such intimidating tactics by protesters were successful in New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. In those cities, all the agents for the East India Company quit by November. Protesters sent letters to East India Company agents in Boston ordering them to quit their jobs, too. “Fail not at your own peril,” the letters warned. But Boston agents continued to work for the tea company. This was partly because Thomas Hutchinson, the governor of Massachusetts, lived in Boston and remained loyal to Britain, and so the agents—who included two of Hutchinson’s sons—felt protected.

  Weeks passed. The autumnal New England air grew colder, and the standoff between the Patriots and Loyalists of Boston grew more intense. Repeated messages were sent to Governor Hutchinson, demanding that he instruct the seven ships to turn around rather than docking in Boston. But Hutchinson refused to act.

  More meetings were held, more protests carried out. But no agreements were reached. Finally, on November 28, 1773, one of the ships, the Dartmouth, arrived in Boston Harbor. It carried 144 chests of “that worst of plagues, the detested TEA, shipped for this Port by the East-Indian Company,” announced a handbill that was posted all over Boston to stir up the colonists’ anger.

  For Patriots and Loyalists alike, the huge cargo vessel docked in Boston was too big to be ignored. The ship was a constant reminder of everything they were fighting over. The tension between British rule and Colonial liberty, heating up for years, was about to reaching a boiling point.

  Now there are two ships in Boston Harbor laden with tea! I saw them, looming and gloomy, by the wharf this morning, when Aunt Charlotte and I went shopping to buy a special gift for Mother. “Oh, please may we go in this shop?” I asked Aunt Charlotte. “Look at the lovely china bowl in the window.”

  Aunt Charlotte hesitated but followed me inside.

  “Charlotte Merriman!” said the shopkeeper. “I haven’t seen you in many a long while. You’re one of the Daughters of Liberty, who spin their own wool and make their own fabric and clothing rather than buying taxed goods from England, are you not?”

  “I am,” said Aunt Charlotte.

  The shop owner smiled smugly. “And yet here you are in my shop,” said she.

  “My niece admires the bowl in your window,” said Aunt Charlotte.
>
  “That’s a fine bowl, indeed,” said the shopkeeper. “’Twas made in Wedgwood, England.”

  “Made in England?” said Aunt Charlotte. Her voice was steady but firm. “Shame on you for selling frippery and finery that’s come from Britain, just like the tea on those hateful ships in our harbor. Don’t you support the Patriots’ fight for justice?”

  My heart swelled with pride to hear my aunt stand on her beliefs, and I promised myself that I, too, would always stand strong for what I believed was right. But the shopkeeper was having none of it.

  “Have you no loyalty to our king?” she asked. “Besides, everyone knows that if those ships are not sent back to England in the next eight days, British agents will seize the tea and start selling it—and charging the tax on it. No, I won’t stand against the king, and nor should you if you’ve any common sense.”

  “I have something better than common sense,” said Aunt Charlotte. “Principles. I believe the Patriots are right.”

  “Humph,” snorted the shopkeeper. She turned to me and asked, “Do you want to buy this bowl?”

  “No, thank you,” I said politely. Suddenly, the bowl from England didn’t look lovely to me anymore.

  On the morning of November 29, 1773, the people of Boston woke to the sound of church bells ringing throughout the city to signal an emergency. Many left their homes and filed into the streets to investigate.

  A meeting was being held at the Old South Meeting House, on the corner of Milk and Cornhill Streets, to discuss the arrival of the Dartmouth. More than five thousand people descended on the brick meetinghouse, Boston’s largest building at the time. Huge crowds of people spilled onto the street.

  The meeting lasted for two days. The stench from unwashed bodies was intense, and people had to stamp their feet and huddle close to keep warm. But with the fate of the colonies hanging in the balance, none of that seemed to matter.