King George (2 page)
Authors: Steve Sheinkin
K
ing George did not appreciate this form of protest. The world's most powerful country can't have its government employees hiding on an islandâit doesn't look good. It was time to get tough with the colonists. In the words of Frederick North, one of the king's favorite advisors: “America must fear you before she can love you.”
ing George did not appreciate this form of protest. The world's most powerful country can't have its government employees hiding on an islandâit doesn't look good. It was time to get tough with the colonists. In the words of Frederick North, one of the king's favorite advisors: “America must fear you before she can love you.”
Why not just repeal the Townshend taxes? “I hope we shall never think of it,” snapped North, “till we see America prostrate [facedown] at our feet.”
North was another guy who didn't understand Americans.
In October 1768, British warships sailed into Boston Harbor. Under the command of General Thomas Gage, one thousand British soldiers marched off the ships and paraded through town in their bright red coats, beating drums and dragging cannons.
That should solve everything, right?
Well, nothing too serious happened until March 1770. On March 2, a British soldier named Patrick Walker was looking for a little extra work in Boston (the soldiers were paid almost nothing). He stopped by a ropewalkâan outdoor workshop where ropes were madeâand spoke with a rope maker named William Green.
Green:
Soldier, do you want work?
Walker:
Yes.
Green:
Well then, go clean my outhouse.
Soldier, do you want work?
Walker:
Yes.
Green:
Well then, go clean my outhouse.
Only Green didn't say “outhouse.” He used a word I can't print here. Walker was quite offended. He got a group of soldiers together, and they attacked the rope makers with wooden clubs. The rope makers fought back with clubs of their own. It was an ugly scene.
The point of this story is simple: the British soldiers and the people of Boston just weren't getting along. And it's easy to see why. The soldiers were in town to enforce laws that made people furious, and people took their anger out on the soldiers. Did the soldiers deserve such hatred? Maybe not. Most were seventeen- and eighteenyear-old boys from poor families. This was the only job they could get, and they hated being in Boston just as much as the people hated having them.
On the night of March 5, 1770 (three days after the ropewalk fight), all the anger in Boston exploded into violence.
I
t was a cold night. There was a foot of snow on the ground. Sons of Liberty walked the streets in groups, wooden clubs in hand. They watched the soldiers, and the soldiers watched them. Both sides were expecting something to happen.
t was a cold night. There was a foot of snow on the ground. Sons of Liberty walked the streets in groups, wooden clubs in hand. They watched the soldiers, and the soldiers watched them. Both sides were expecting something to happen.
But no one thought it would begin with an apprentice wig maker named Edward Garrick. At about 8:30, young Garrick passed a British officer in the street. Garrick pointed to the officer and shouted:
Edward Garrick
“There goes the fellow that won't pay my master for dressing his hair!”
That's a serious insult, Edâaccusing a gentleman of not paying his debts. A young British soldier named Hugh White stepped forward to defend his officer. Garrick and White exchanged a few curses. Then White cracked Garrick on the head with the butt of his musket. Garrick went down, scrambled up, and yelped for help.
A crowd gathered quickly. At first it was just a few of Garrick's friends. Then people started coming from all over town. A man named Crispus Attucks led a group of fellow sailors from the wharf to the scene of the action. Attucks was six feet, two inches tall, about forty-five years old. He had escaped from slavery twenty years before. Witnesses said he had a stick or club in his hand.
Hugh White called out to his fellow soldiers for backup. Eight soldiers pushed their way through the mob to White. About three hundred people surrounded the soldiers, cursing at them and pelting them with snowballs, chunks of ice, even oyster shells. The soldiers pointed their loaded guns. The crowd shoved closer and closer to the blades of the British bayonets, shouting:
“You dare not fire!”
“You can't kill us all!”
Then there was a shot. Then a lot of shots. Then smoke and shocked silence. The crowd backed away. Crispus Attucks lay in the snow, killed instantly by two bullets through the chest. Six other men had also been shot. Four of them later died.
At a town meeting the next morning, Samuel Adams charged British soldiers with firing into a crowd of harmless protesters. As we have seen, this was not exactly true. Samuel was a gifted storyteller. He called the soldiers “bloody murderers.” He gave the incident a name that everyone would remember: “the Boston Massacre.”
A
fter the Massacre, General Gage pulled the British soldiers out of Boston. This helped calm things down.
fter the Massacre, General Gage pulled the British soldiers out of Boston. This helped calm things down.
Over in Britain, leaders saw that the Townshend Acts were much more trouble than they were worth. Parliament voted to repeal the taxes. Well, most of them. They left a tax on tea. This was done on very specific instructions from King George:
“I am clear that there must always be one tax to keep up the right, and as such I approve the tea duty.”
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.
O
n 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.
n 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.
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:
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!
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!
Â
Son of Liberty:
Just come out here, if you please, and we'll settle the bill in two minutes.
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, thoughâthe 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 Bostonâthis time with four thousand British soldiers.
That should solve everything, right?
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?
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.
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, subsist
2
them at my own expense, and march myself at their head for the relief of Boston.”
2
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 firmâI 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.”
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