King George III
Sure, the king knew this small tea tax would not bring in any real money. He just wanted everyone to know that Britain still had the power to tax the colonies. Told you he was stubborn.
Step 9: Throw a Tea Party
On the night of December 16, 1773, a Boston shoemaker named George Hewes went into a blacksmith’s shop and smeared coal dust on his face. He was hoping it would look like the war paint of a Mohawk Indian. It didn’t, but that was okay. The main idea was to be in disguise. Hewes went out into the dark street with an ax in his hand. Dozens of men, all badly disguised as Indians, were marching down to the waterfront. Hewes joined the strange parade.
Three ships full of British tea were tied up at a wharf in Boston Harbor. The people of Boston had refused to let the ship owners unload the cargo. They had no intention of paying the tea tax. So the tea sat in the ships, neatly packed in chests. Not for long.
George Hewes and the other disguised Sons of Liberty rowed out to the British ships. Communicating with only grunts and silent signals, about fifty men boarded each ship. They dragged the chests of tea up to the deck, chopped them open with axes, and dumped the tea into Boston Harbor.
Hundreds of people came down to the wharf to watch. Hewes even saw a few spectators sneak onto the ships to snag some of the tea: “There were several attempts,” he recalled, “made by some of the citizens of Boston … to carry off small quantities of it for their family use … . . They would watch for their opportunity to snatch up a handful from the deck, where it became plentifully scattered, and put it into their pockets.”
Hewes caught one man shoving loose tea leaves into the lining of his coat. Hewes yanked off the coat, and the guy ran away.
It took about three hours to dump all the tea. Then, just to make sure no one was hiding any tea, each of the “Mohawks” was asked to take off his shoes and shake them out into the water.
When George Hewes finally got home that night, he told his wife, Sally, all about the Boston Tea Party.
Step 10: Pay the Fiddler
A british naval commander named Admiral Montagu watched the Boston Tea Party from the window of his waterfront house. As the disguised Sons of Liberty marched away from the wharf, Montagu opened his window and exchanged shouts with one of the men:
Montagu: Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant evening for your Indian caper, haven’t you? But mind, you have got to pay the fiddler yet!
Son of Liberty: Just come out here, if you please, and we’ll settle the bill in two minutes.
Montagu shut his window. The men cheered and laughed. Montagu was right, though—the people of Boston would have to “pay the fiddler.” In other words, they would have to face the consequences of their actions.
One consequence was that King George threw an absolute fit. He called the Tea Party “violent and outrageous.” And he wasn’t alone. Even members of Parliament who usually supported the Americans were furious about the destruction of British tea. A member of Parliament named Charles Van captured the angry mood in London, declaring:
“The town of Boston ought to be boxed about their ears and destroyed. I am of the opinion you will never meet with that proper obedience to the laws of this country until you have destroyed that nest of locusts.”
Charles Van
Now, that’s the kind of advice King George liked.
At the king’s request, Parliament passed a series of laws designed to teach the people of Boston, once and for all, that British authority must be obeyed. No fooling around now. Parliament ordered the port of Boston shut down until the town paid for the ruined tea. The people of Massachusetts would no longer be allowed to elect their own judges or sheriffs. And if the residents of Boston wanted to hold a town meeting, they would need permission from British officials.
To enforce all this, General Thomas Gage was sent back to Boston—this time with four thousand British soldiers.
That should solve everything, right?
Step 11: Stand Firm
A few months later, Samuel Adams was eating dinner with his wife and kids when one of Boston’s best tailors knocked on the door. The tailor came in and began measuring Sam’s rather round body. He said he had been asked to make Adams a new suit. He refused to say who had paid for this service. Then a hatter arrived. He measured Adams’s head for a new hat. He wouldn’t say who had sent him. Then a shoemaker came to measure Adams’s feet. What was going on?
Well, a lot. As planned, the British soldiers had closed the port of Boston. This was a kick in the gut to the Boston economy, which was built on shipping and trade. Stores shut, jobs disappeared. Colonists called the harsh British punishments the “Intolerable Acts.” Even people who avoided politics took sides in the crisis: you were a Patriot if you opposed British taxes and stood by Boston; you were a Loyalist if you supported the king.
Patriots all over the colonies sent supplies to Boston: beef, fish, flour, rice, cash. Patriot leaders also agreed to hold a meeting in Philadelphia. They could all get to know each other, maybe figure out what to do about the Intolerable Acts.
That explains the tailor, hatter, and shoemaker. Of course, Sam Adams would be making the trip to Philadelphia for the Continental Congress. But for such an important meeting, he really needed some new clothes (he was an embarrassingly sloppy dresser). So his friends hired the tailor and the others. And Sam Adams set off for Congress in a fancy new suit with gold buttons on the sleeves (and silver buckles on his shoes). Next to him in the carriage sat his cousin John Adams, well-known lawyer, Patriot, and grump.
George Washington
A few hundred miles south in Virginia, George Washington was also getting ready for the Congress. Washington was one of the few Patriot leaders with military experience (in the French and Indian War). He had recently made news with a bold promise:
“If need be, I will raise one thousand men, subsist2 them at my own expense, and march myself at their head for the relief of Boston.”
Patrick Henry and Edmund Pendleton (two more Virginia Patriots) stopped by Washington’s place, and they all set out together for Philadelphia.
As they rode off, a voice called out to them: “I hope you will all stand firm—I know George will.”
That was Martha Washington, George’s wife. And while she urged courage, she also worried where this conflict might lead, saying, “I foresee consequences. Dark days and darker nights.”
Step 12: Make Speeches
The Continental Congress began in Philadelphia in early September 1774. There were a total of fifty-six delegates from twelve colonies (Georgia stayed home). Fifty-six men meant fifty-six different opinions—and some very long debates. John Adams complained that if someone had declared that three plus two equaled five, members would have wasted a couple of days debating the issue.
So it took a while, but the members of Congress came to some serious decisions. They declared the Intolerable Acts to be an illegal violation of the rights of American colonists. They decided it was time to start boycotting trade with Britain again. And they agreed that the colonies should start arming and training their militias (volunteer armies) just in case there was trouble with the British soldiers in Boston.
Before the Congress ended, Patrick Henry did two things that he was famous for. One, he annoyed everyone by talking too much. And two, he made a few fabulous speeches. “The distinctions between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, New Yorkers and New Englanders are no more,” he cried. “I am not a Virginian, but an American.”
This kind of unity really surprised British leaders. They had been sure that the other colonies would stand aside and let Massachusetts suffer alone.
Step 13: Let Blows Decide
Now the stage was set for a showdown. Neither side really wanted war, but neither side was willing to back down. As usual, King George thought a show of force would improve matters. He declared: “The New England colonies are in a state of rebellion … . Blows must decide whether they are to be subject to
this country or independent.”
Blows, you say? Speaking in a church in Virginia, Patrick Henry did his thing:
“Gentlemen may cry, ‘Peace! Peace!’ but there is no peace … .
I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”
Back in Boston, all this tough talk was making General Gage extremely nervous. Unlike Patrick Henry and King George, Gage was going to have to do the actual fighting. He wrote to London, asking for more soldiers.
“If you think ten thousand men sufficient, send twenty,” Gage wrote. And this takes us up to April 1775. Right where we want to be.
Patrick Henry
A Sleepless Night Before Revolution
What are you waiting for, Thomas Gage? That was basically the message from London. King George wanted action! He wanted General Gage to march his soldiers out of Boston and seize the military supplies that were being stored by local militias. He wanted Patriot troublemakers like Samuel Adams and John Hancock arrested and shipped to London in chains.
Orders Are Orders
Tensions in Boston were at record levels in the spring of 1775. General Gage was so worried about another Boston Massacre—type incident, he refused to allow his soldiers to carry their pistols in the street. For this sound judgment, the soldiers called Gage “the Old Woman.”
Meanwhile, in the towns around Boston, thousands of militia members were just waiting for the British soldiers to make a move. Some militias even called themselves “minutemen,” because they could be called together at a minute’s notice (or pretty quickly, anyway).
Gage was sitting on a time bomb—and everyone could hear the ticking.
But orders are orders. The general considered his options. He knew that the local militias were storing their weapons in Concord, a town just seventeen miles northwest of Boston. And he knew that Samuel Adams and John Hancock were lying low at a house in Lexington. Interesting … .
So Gage came up with a plan. He’d send seven hundred British soldiers out to Lexington and Concord. They could try to grab Adams and Hancock in Lexington. Then they could march on to Concord and destroy the military supplies there. That should make the king happy, right?
Don’t Open That Envelope
During the afternoon of April 18, 1775, Gage sat down at his desk and wrote out orders for the mission. He sealed the plan in an envelope without showing it to anyone. He gave the envelope to Colonel Francis Smith, who was to lead the expedition. He told Smith to have his soldiers assemble on Boston Common, by the Charles River, at exactly ten o’clock that night. He ordered Smith not to open the envelope with the plan until then.
Why would Gage keep the plan secret from the man who was going to lead the mission? Gage knew that it was going to be very dangerous for his soldiers to march out into the hostile territory around Boston. His hope was to keep the march secret until the very last second. Then his soldiers just might be able to get out to Concord and back before the minutemen had time to react.
Would Gage be able to keep the plan a secret? Listen to this: At about nine o’clock that night, Gage called his pal General Hugh Percy into his office and told him the plan. He told Percy that no one else knew of the plan yet.
Minutes later, Percy left Gage’s house and walked out into Boston Common. He saw that British soldiers were quietly gathering down by the water, as planned. And he saw small groups of people, nosy Bostonians, standing around, watching the action. He snuck up to one group. His face hidden by shadows, Percy joined the conversation:
Bostonian: The British troops have marched, but will miss their aim.
Percy: What aim?
Bostonian: Why, the cannon at Concord.
So the secret was already out—even before the British soldiers themselves knew where they were going! Percy rushed back to Gage’s office and told him the bad news.
Everyone’s a Spy
How did this happen? A story went around that Gage’s wife (she was American) had leaked the plan. But this was never more than a rumor. The real problem, from Gage’s point of view, was that almost everyone in Boston was a spy. Well, maybe not an official spy, but everyone in town was keeping an angry eye on those hated British soldiers.
One of the men who organized this American spy ring was a silversmith named Paul Revere.
“I was one of upwards of thirty who formed ourselves into a committee for the purpose of watching the movements of the British soldiers.”
Paul Revere
People outside the city were also on the lookout. When General Gage first started thinking about sending his soldiers out to Concord, he realized that he would need to know more about the roads the army would have to take. He gave Colonel Francis Smith the job of secretly checking out the route. Smith took along a young private named John Howe.
Smith and Howe dressed up like American laborers (you know: gray overcoat, leather pants, blue stockings). They grabbed a couple of walking sticks and set off on the seventeen-mile hike to Concord. Smith didn’t make it too far before getting hungry (he was a famously big eater). So the two men went into a roadside tavern, sat at a table, and ordered some breakfast.
Pretending to be a regular old American in search of a job, Smith asked the waitress if she knew of any place where he and his friend might find some employment. But the woman (all we know about her is that she was African American) had spent a lot of time in Boston, and she knew the faces of the high-ranking British officers. She looked him in the eye and said:
“Smith, you will find employment enough for you and all Gage’s men in a few months.”
Smith just about fell off his chair. He called the woman a “saucy wench” and promised to kill her if he ever saw her again. Then he ran home. “The last I saw of Smith he was running through barberry bushes to keep out of sight of the road,” said Private Howe.
You get the idea—the British couldn’t make a move without everyone knowing about it. And by April 18, it was really, really obvious that something was going on in Boston. British officers were stopping by the stables, making sure their horses were ready to go. Totally ignoring the lowly local kids who worked as stable boys, the officers bragged about the upcoming action. The stable boys passed the information on to Paul Revere.
Another clue: the British repaired their small transport boats and launched them in the Charles River. These were the boats the British soldiers would use if they ever wanted to cross the river on their way to Lexington and Concord. As Revere noted, “From these movements we expected something serious was to be transacted.”
Trapped in Boston
“So Revere and his fellow spies knew the British were about to do “something serious.” But what?
It really wasn’t that hard to guess. Everyone knew about the weapons in Concord, and everyone knew that King George wanted them destroyed. Everyone also knew that the king wanted John Hancock and Samuel Adams arrested. British soldiers made no secret of their hostile feelings for Hancock and Adams. One popular British marching chant went like this (you can sing along to the tune of “Yankee Doodle”):
“As for their King, John Hancock, and Adams if they’re taken, their heads for signs shall hang on high, upon that hill called Beacon.”
It doesn’t exactly rhyme, but you get the point: Hancock and Adams were wanted men. Any time your head is hanging up as a sign, it’s not good.
On the night of April 18, British soldiers were gathering by the river. Revere and friends knew what they had to do. First: warn Hancock and Adams that British soldiers were on their way to arrest them. Second: alert the people of Concord that the British were coming to destroy the weapons stored there.
Easier said than done. Boston was nearly surrounded by water, so to get out of the city they had to either cross the Charles River or make it over the thin strip of land called Boston Neck. And of course, Gage knew that Revere and other express riders would try to get a warning out to Lexington and Concord. Gage issued strict orders to his men:
let no one out of Boston tonight! He moved the warship Somerset into the river to block any exit by boat. He placed a string of soldiers across Boston Neck (it was only sixty yards wide). He even sent out groups of British officers on horseback, pistols hidden under their coats, to patrol the road to Lexington and Concord.
“Two if by Sea”
There was a real chance that no one would be able to get out of Boston with a warning for the nearby towns. But don’t worry: Revere and friends had a back-up plan. They arranged to send a secret signal by lighting lanterns at the top of Old North Church in Boston. The lanterns would be visible across the Charles River in Charlestown. This way, if no one could get out of Boston with the latest news, at least people in Charlestown could begin spreading the alarm that the British were on their way.
It was agreed that one lantern would mean the British were marching out by land, over Boston Neck. Two lanterns would mean the British were coming by water, over the Charles River. Yes, these are the “One if by land, and two if by sea” lanterns from the famous Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem.
King George Page 2