Independence

by John Ferling

  Those in Boston who opposed the Tea Act knew that, under a century-old customs regulation, all duties on taxable goods were to be paid within twenty days or customs officials would seize the ship and sell it and its cargo at auction. Whale oil and assorted winter supplies, which were also part of Dartmouth’s contents, were rapidly brought ashore, but longshoremen refused to touch the chests of tea. The clock was ticking. Come December 17, time would run out. On that day the tea aboard the Dartmouth was certain to fall into the hands of the Customs Service. There could be no doubt that thereafter the tea would be sold by the East India Company to Massachusetts consumers. Should that occur, it was feared, not only would the tax on tea be collected, but the triumphant ministry and Parliament would also impose additional duties on the colonists. To prevent this from occurring, Boston’s radical leaders pleaded for three weeks with Governor Hutchinson to send the ships with their cargoes of tea back to England. He turned a deaf ear to their entreaties. Hutchinson had taken an oath to enforce British law. Furthermore, after the publication of his private letters, he was anxious to settle old scores.74

  Faced with the choice of acting or capitulating, the resistance leaders chose to act. On the bitingly cold, mist-cloaked night of December 16, they took a carefully planned step. Upwards of 200 men, many disguised as Indians, descended on Griffin’s Wharf and slipped aboard all three tea ships. While some men held lanterns or stood lookout, others descended into the holds. With block and tackle, the heavy chests of tea—each chest was lead-lined and weighed 80 to 90 pounds when empty and upwards of 450 pounds when filled—were hoisted on deck, where men, sweating despite the raw weather, wielded axes to smash them open. Other “Mohawks,” as these men called themselves, shoveled the loose tea into the swirling, sable waters of Boston Harbor. The work was difficult and time-consuming, requiring nearly three hours. Still, considering the amount of goods that had to be moved—90,000 pounds of tea in 340 unwieldy chests—the job was completed relatively rapidly, which suggests that most of the work was undertaken by dockhands accustomed to this sort of labor. Customs officials and the leaders of Britain’s armed forces in Boston had known early on that the vessels had been taken over by hostile elements—they could not help but know, as more than two thousand spectators gathered along the waterfront to watch the festivities—but none wished to act without civilian authorization. Governor Hutchinson, who had fled to his country home in Milton, was not present to give the order to stop the plundering. In the crystalline dawn of the following day, December 17, every resident knew of the Boston Tea Party and, in all likelihood, knew it had been a watershed event, what John Adams that morning called “an Epocha in History.”75

  No one recorded Lord North’s first response to the news of the Boston Tea Party, but, like Adams, he must have realized straightaway that the incident marked a new level of rebellion. The tea protest had become his American crisis. The prime minister was doubtless angry and shocked, as were some Americans who had thought the Tea Act should be resisted, though by peaceful means. Franklin’s initial reaction was that all “considerate Men” must oppose the destruction of private property. Besides, he said, America’s dispute was not with the East India Company. On learning what had occurred in Boston Harbor, Franklin appealed to the Massachusetts assembly to indemnify the company.76 Washington, likewise, found the destruction of private property indefensible and proposed that Virginia help Massachusetts make reparations to the East India Company.77

  Some 90,000 pounds of East India Company tea was destroyed in the Boston Tea Party, on December 16, 1773. This was America’s most violent response to the Tea Act, and led the British government to respond with coercive measures that the colonists labeled the Intolerable Acts. The Destruction of Tea at Boston Harbor lithograph by Sarony and Major, 1846. (National Archives)

  The outrage expressed by Franklin and Washington paled next to the anger that swept England. More than six months after the passage of the Tea Act, only 3 percent of the tea the East India Company had shipped to America—just that salvaged from the shipwrecked William—was in the hands of the Customs Service and ready for sale. Unbridled fury toward the colonists filled the British newspapers, but the lion’s share of indignation was directed at Boston, the lone site of violence. Bostonians were branded “bigots of the most dangerous kind” and singled out as the “most turbulent” of all Americans. It was a city, according to a London newspaper, in which “honest Men and Virgins [were] scarce.” One English penman claimed that the American troubles had originated with “crafty” Boston “smugglers,” after which things were “blown into rebellion by the preachers.” Several essayists instantly attributed the Boston Tea Party to the work of the “crafty pettifogger” and “arch rebel” Samuel Adams, who, it was said, “leads a banditti of hypocrites,” and the merchant John Hancock, who was widely portrayed in England as the prince of smugglers and the “Milch-Cow” of Boston’s extremists.78 Numerous scribblers demanded that Adams and Hancock be arrested and transported to England to stand trial for sedition. One writer suggested that royal authorities in Boston send across the Atlantic “a Cargo of American Scalps, as some Recompense for their Tea,” while another proposed that British officials “Hang, draw, and quarter fifty” of Boston’s radicals.

  One essayist cast a broader net. Britain, he said, confronted a “many headed Monster” in America that threatened the “Peace and Tranquility of the Nation.” Others charged that the lingering American problem could be traced to the “Timidity of … Tax-repealing” ministries that had capitulated in the face of the Stamp Act protests and largely surrendered again when most of the Townshend Duties were repealed. “Forbearance has long been ineffectual” was the mantra of many who demanded toughness. The time had come, they said, for “an enlarged Fortitude” and “an Exertion of Power.” British “supremacy must be maintained and supported.… This is no period for … temporizing.” There were times—and this was one of them, according to one pamphleteer—when “violent remedies must be … applied to obstinate diseases.” Even the National Register, a journal that had opposed American taxation, labeled the Boston Tea Party an “outrage.”79 Franklin, who kept an eye on the British press, notified America of the “great Resentment here” toward the colonists, and he added: “I suppose we never had since we were a People, so few Friends in Britain.”80

  The savage mood in Britain was reflected in the cabinet. The ministers were incensed by the American reaction to the Tea Act, but they were particularly irate at what had occurred in Boston. This was due in part to the Yankees’ repeated defiance, but even more so it was because the Bostonians had destroyed the tea. Given the near-sacred status of property in Great Britain—where courts were known to hang paupers who stole a loaf of bread—the ministers looked on the Boston Tea Party as worse than a riot.

  From its first meeting, the cabinet resolved to take “effectual steps … to secure the dependence of the colonies.” But to its credit, North’s government did not hastily settle on its response. North was a mild-mannered man. He had come to power free of enmity toward the Americans, and from first to last he hoped that war might be avoided.81 He presided over calm, unhurried, and thoughtful deliberations concerning the proper response. Over the course of six weeks the ministers met often, sometimes even late into the night, to discuss their options and the likely American response. Each minister understood that if the government stood its ground, refusing any longer to appease the colonists, there was a risk of war. Consequently, at numerous meetings North and his ministers contemplated hostilities. Could Britain win a war? How would it be fought? What was the likelihood of French and Spanish intervention?

  From the outset, a majority of ministers believed the colonists would back down if faced with the use of force, a view nourished by General Thomas Gage, the commander of the British army in America, who advised that the Americans would “be lyons whilst we are lambs but if we take the resolute part they will be very meek.” It seemed inconceivable to most in
the cabinet that colonists who had neither a national army nor a navy of any sort would dare risk war with a nation that could field a professional army and possessed the greatest navy in the world. Virtually every member of North’s ministry believed that Britain would prevail, and easily, should the Americans be foolish enough to resort to arms. Some were convinced that only one or two engagements would be sufficient to bring the colonists to heel. Some even thought that the colonists’ will to resist could be broken by a naval blockade and that no pitched battles would be necessary. But if fighting did occur, the prospect was not terribly troubling. Given the performance of callow colonial soldiers in the recent war, many were persuaded that the Americans were a “poor species of fighting men.” Some questioned that premise, though it was incontrovertible that there was a dearth of officers in the colonies with experience in leading large armies. Most also thought it improbable that colonial militiamen would dare stand up to regular soldiers. Furthermore, the colonists were disunited. During the French and Indian War, Franklin had proposed what came to be known as the Albany Plan of Union, a plea for the colonies to unite in a confederation to more effectively wage the war. Not a single province had endorsed his idea. Given these realities, some in Britain were cocksure, such as the general whom Franklin overheard boasting that “with a Thousand British grenadiers he would undertake to go from one end of America to the other, and geld all the Males, partly by force and partly by a little Coaxing.”82

  Confronted by the colonists’ effrontery, not to mention their willful lawlessness, virtually every member of North’s ministry believed that retribution of some sort was called for. Differences existed, however. The Earl of Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty, and the Earl of Suffolk, secretary of state for the Northern Department (Northern Europe), led those who favored the most punitive measures. Sandwich, a veteran minister who over the years had instituted many useful naval reforms, was the most influential minister, next to North, of course. Walpole thought no other cabinet member was Sandwich’s rival when it came to making quick and sound judgments. Suffolk, who was young and good-natured, had been a follower of Grenville and for ten years an outspoken advocate of American taxation. A second faction also wanted the government to be tough, but less so than demanded by the hard-liners, and these ministers were not entirely certain what steps should be taken. This contingent was led by the Earl of Gower, president of the Privy Council; the Earl of Rochford, secretary of state for the Southern Department and an expert on Spain; and Viscount Weymouth, groom of the stole, who was related to North by marriage. Dartmouth, standing nearly alone, was the most vocal against taking especially vindictive measures. He saw himself as manning the bulwarks “to cover America from the present storm.” But Dartmouth was not sanguine. Over the years he had found that Lord North usually gave in to those who were more forceful and acrimonious.83

  Lord Dartmouth by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Lord North’s stepbrother and the American secretary during the final years of peace, he advocated negotiation to resolve the crisis. However, Dartmouth signed the order to use force against the American rebels. (© Coram in the care of the Foundling Museum, London / The Bridgeman Art Library International)

  When the cabinet began its deliberations, North set the tone: “Whatever may be the consequences, we must risk something; if we do not, all is over.” The king also leaned on his ministers to be resolute. “I do not wish to come to severer measures,” he said, “but we must not retreat.”84 The ministry did not have many options. Sandwich and Suffolk strenuously advocated the immediate use of force against Massachusetts. For several days the cabinet also contemplated prosecuting those who were thought to be leaders in Boston’s insurgency. The names of Hancock and Samuel Adams, as well as two other readily identifiable activists—Dr. Joseph Warren, a Boston physician and firebrand, and Thomas Cushing, the speaker of the Massachusetts assembly—were frequently mentioned as targets for arrest. The ministry abandoned that avenue only after the solicitor general advised that solid evidence was lacking of their complicity in the Tea Party. For that matter, no corroborative evidence existed for prosecuting a single person for having participated in the destruction of the tea. The cabinet briefly considered merely warning Massachusetts that it would be punished should there be a future incident of property destruction, but the ministers ultimately decided that such a course would “avail nothing,” as North subsequently said. The one alternative that was not considered was the repeal of the Tea Act. According to Dartmouth’s recollection, anyone who had suggested its repeal would have been thought “mad.”85

  A month after learning of the Tea Party, North’s ministry somberly coalesced behind what would be called the Coercive Acts. The government introduced four separate bills in Parliament. The Boston Port Bill would fine Massachusetts for the destroyed tea and close Boston Harbor until the colony paid. The Massachusetts Government Bill would change the charter under which the colony had lived for the past three quarters of a century, blatantly reducing the power of the people while strengthening the hand of royal officials. The bill stipulated that the upper house of the assembly, whose members had always been elected by the lower house, would henceforth be appointed by the royal governor. Town meetings—a New England tradition—were to be prohibited without the chief executive’s authorization. Juries, which had always been elected or summoned by local elected officials, were to be placed under the jurisdiction of the governor’s appointees. The Administration of Justice Bill would empower the governor to transfer to other colonies, or to England, the trials of indicted government officials. The Quartering Act would authorize the commander of the British army in America to lodge his soldiers wherever necessary, even in private residences.86

  North’s government did not ignore the notion expressed by some newspaper essayists that the disorder in America was widespread. However, the ministry was convinced that Massachusetts was the epicenter of the colonial insurrection. It was additionally guided by an ancient axiom: Sever the head of the serpent and it will die. North’s government chose a strategy of divide and conquer, driven by the belief that “the other Colonies would leave them [Massachusetts] to struggle alone,” as one minister observed.

  North sent the first piece of legislation, the Boston Port Bill, to Parliament on the afternoon of March 7, a sad, gray late-winter’s day. In presenting the measure, North charged that the Bostonians had been “the ringleaders of all the riots in America for seven years past.”87 Moreover, if the residents of “Boston … can set their faces against” one act of Parliament, he went on, “they might set their faces equally against all” parliamentary legislation until “we have no authority” in Massachusetts. He was taking this step, North added, to secure “the just dependence of the Colonies on the mother country.”88 He acted with the conviction that when confronted with coercion accompanied by the ominous threat of armed force, the radical demagogues in Massachusetts would back down or, more likely, be restrained by what he yet believed was the more prudent majority within the colonies. North did not believe that any colonies to the south of New England would assist their insurrectionary fellow colonists, and he was confident that there would be no war. North prayed that his adamant stand would resolve the American problem, or at least move it to the back burner for a very long time.

  The London Evening Post reported that when North completed his presentation, “there was a perfect silence for some minutes.” If so, it was not because most members of Parliament shrank from punishing Boston. In fact, there was virtually no opposition to the bill, save from a handful of representatives of port cities who feared that closing the port of Boston would be injurious to the pocketbooks of their merchant constituents. Most MPs believed that London had no choice but to take a harsh stand. Even some who had opposed taxation, and were widely known in England as “friends of America,” endorsed the bill. For instance, Isaac Barré, who had gained a hero’s status in the colonies for his robust denunciation of the Stamp Act, gave his “hearty, and dete
rminate” assent. “I like it, adopt, and embrace it cheerfully,” he said on the floor of the House of Commons.89

  Parliament quickly enacted the Boston Port Bill. The three remaining Coercive Acts faced slightly more opposition, though each passed by a huge majority. At nearly the same time—in June 1774—Parliament enacted the Quebec Act. It was not part of the Coercive Acts, but news of its passage reached America nearly simultaneously with that of the ministry’s resort to coercion, and in Virginia it caused as great a stir as the steps taken against Massachusetts. The Quebec Act placed the region northwest of the Ohio River under the jurisdiction of the province of Quebec. Land speculators in Virginia—which included a substantial percentage of politically influential planters—knew in an instant that the Quebec Act severely curtailed their chances of making fortunes in the Ohio Country, a vast, verdant region that Virginia’s armies had helped to wrest from the French. No less a figure than Richard Henry Lee would label this legislation “the worst grievance” for Virginians.90

  During the debates on the Coercive Acts, not a single member of the House of Commons denied that Parliament had the authority to tax the colonists. None questioned the limits of Parliament’s authority. Some expressed a sense of betrayal, remarking that they had voted for the Boston Port Bill after having been led to believe that the measures that would follow would be conciliatory. But nearly all who expressed reservations said they believed that Boston’s “provocation deserves the fullest arraignment.”91 A small opposition faction around Lord Rockingham, whose ministry had repealed the Stamp Act eight years earlier, argued that there should have been hearings before Parliament acted. Some in this faction said the measures went too far, and it was a Rockinghamite who delivered the lone memorable speech in the course of the debates.

  On April 19 Edmund Burke spoke for two hours, addressing not so much the Coercive Acts as the matter of American taxation. His speech drew greater applause than any other in this session and was extolled in the press, with one journal praising him for having “distinguished himself in a masterly manner.”92 Burke was forty-five, portly and jowly, with dark wavy hair. A native of Ireland, he had come to London as a young man to study law and pursue a literary career. He soon abandoned his plans for a legal career, but he enjoyed some success as an essayist and historian. The modest notoriety that he gained as a writer led to his selection as Rockingham’s secretary, and that in turn facilitated his election to Parliament in 1765.93 Though active in the movement to repeal the Stamp Act, Burke had remained surprisingly quiet on the American question until North’s government introduced the Coercive Acts. Even then, Burke spoke only once in the debate on the Boston Port Bill, though he had said that the day the legislation was introduced was the day when the world knew that the prime minister “wish[ed] to go to war with all America.”94