"Our old chair," resumed Grandfather, "did not now stand in the midst of a
gay circle of British officers. The troops, as I told you, had been
removed to Castle William, immediately after the Boston Massacre. Still,
however, there were many tories, custom-house officers, and Englishmen,
who used to assemble in the British Coffee House, and talk over the
affairs of the period. Matters grew worse and worse; and in 1773, the
people did a deed, which incensed the king and ministry more than any of
their former doings."
Grandfather here described the affair, which is known by the name of the
Boston Tea Party. The Americans, for some time past, had left off
importing tea, on account of the oppressive tax. The East India Company,
in London, had a large stock of tea on hand, which they had expected to
sell to the Americans, but could find no market for it. But, after a
while, the government persuaded this company of merchants to send the tea
to America.
"How odd it is," observed Clara, "that the liberties of America should
have had any thing to do with a cup of tea!"
Grandfather smiled, and proceeded with his narrative. When the people of
Boston heard that several cargoes of tea were coming across the Atlantic,
they held a great many meetings at Faneuil Hall, in the Old South church,
and under Liberty Tree. In the midst of their debates, three ships arrived
in the harbor with the tea on board. The people spent more than a
fortnight in consulting what should be done. At last, on the 16th of
December, 1773, they demanded of Governor Hutchinson, that he should
immediately send the ships back to England.
The governor replied that the ships must not leave the harbor, until the
custom-house duties upon the tea should be paid. Now, the payment of these
duties was the very thing, against which the people had set their faces;
because it was a tax, unjustly imposed upon America by the English
government. Therefore, in the dusk of the evening, as soon as Governor
Hutchinson’s reply was received, an immense crowd hastened to Griffin’s
Wharf, where the tea-ships lay. The place is now called Liverpool Wharf.
"When the crowd reached the wharf," said Grandfather, "they saw that a set
of wild-looking figures were already on board of the ships. You would have
imagined that the Indian warriors, of old times, had come back again; for
they wore the Indian dress, and had their faces covered with red and black
paint, like the Indians, when they go to war. These grim figures hoisted
the tea chests on the decks of the vessels, broke them open, and threw all
the contents into the harbor."
"Grandfather," said little Alice, "I suppose Indians don’t love tea; else
they would never waste it so."
"They were not real Indians, my child," answered Grandfather. "They were
white men, in disguise; because a heavy punishment would have been
inflicted on them, if the king’s officers had found who they were. But it
was never known. From that day to this, though the matter has been talked
of by all the world, nobody can tell the names of those Indian figures.
Some people say that there were very famous men among them, who afterwards
became governors and generals. Whether this be true, I cannot tell."
When tidings of this bold deed were carried to England, King George was
greatly enraged. Parliament immediately passed an act, by which all
vessels were forbidden to take in or discharge their cargoes at the port
of Boston. In this way, they expected to ruin all the merchants, and
starve the poor people, by depriving them of employment. At the same time,
another act was passed, taking away many rights and privileges which had
been granted in the charter of Massachusetts.
Governor Hutchinson, soon afterward, was summoned to England, in order
that he might give his advice about the management of American affairs.
General Gage, an officer of the Old French War, and since
commander-in-chief of the British forces in America, was appointed
governor in his stead. One of his first acts, was to make Salem, instead
of Boston, the metropolis of Massachusetts, by summoning the General Court
to meet there.
According to Grandfather’s description, this was the most gloomy time that
Massachusetts had ever seen. The people groaned under as heavy a tyranny
as in the days of Sir Edmund Andros. Boston looked as if it were afflicted
with some dreadful pestilence,—so sad were the inhabitants, and so
desolate the streets. There was no cheerful hum of business. The merchants
shut up their warehouses, and the laboring men stood idle about the
wharves. But all America felt interested in the good town of Boston; and
contributions were raised, in many places, for the relief of the poor
inhabitants.
"Our dear old chair!" exclaimed Clara. "How dismal it must have been now!"
"Oh," replied Grandfather, "a gay throng of officers had now come back to
the British Coffee House; so that the old chair had no lack of mirthful
company. Soon after General Gage became governor, a great many troops had
arrived, and were encamped upon the Common. Boston was now a garrisoned
and fortified town; for the general had built a battery across the neck,
on the road to Roxbury, and placed guards for its defence. Every thing
looked as if a civil war were close at hand."
"Did the people make ready to fight?" asked Charley.
"A continental Congress assembled at Philadelphia," said Grandfather, "and
proposed such measures as they thought most conducive to the public good.
A provincial Congress was likewise chosen in Massachusetts. They exhorted
the people to arm and discipline themselves. A great number of minute men
were enrolled. The Americans called them minute men, because they engaged
to be ready to fight at a minute’s warning. The English officers laughed,
and said that the name was a very proper one, because the minute men would
run away the the minute they saw the enemy. Whether they would fight or
run, was soon to be proved."
Grandfather told the children, that the first open resistance offered to
the British troops, in the province of Massachusetts was at Salem. Colonel
Timothy Pickering, with thirty or forty militia men, prevented the English
colonel, Leslie, with four times as many regular soldiers, from taking
possession of some military stores. No blood was shed on this occasion;
but, soon afterward, it began to flow.
General Gage sent eight hundred soldiers to Concord, about eighteen miles
from Boston, to destroy some ammunition and provisions which the colonists
had collected there. They set out on their march in the evening of the
18th of April, 1775. The next morning, the General sent Lord Percy, with
nine hundred men, to strengthen the troops which had gone before. All that
day, the inhabitants of Boston heard various rumors. Some said, that the
British were making great slaughter among our countrymen. Others affirmed
that every man had turned out with his musket, and that not a single
soldier would ever get back to Boston.
"It was after sunset," continued Grandfather, "when the troops, who had
marched forth so proudly, were seen entering Charlestown. They were
covered with dust, and so hot and weary that their tongues hung out of
their mouths. Many of them were faint with wounds. They had not all
returned. Nearly three hundred were strewn, dead or dying, along the road
from Concord. The yeomanry had risen upon the invaders, and driven them
back."
"Was this the battle of Lexington?" asked Charley.
"Yes," replied Grandfather; "it was so called, because the British,
without provocation, had fired upon a party of minute men, near Lexington
meeting-house, and killed eight of them. That fatal volley, which was
fired by order of Major Pitcairn, began the war of the Revolution."
About this time, if Grandfather had been correctly informed, our chair
disappeared from the British Coffee House. The manner of its departure
cannot be satisfactorily ascertained. Perhaps the keeper of the Coffee
House turned it out of doors, on account of its old-fashioned aspect.
Perhaps he sold it as a curiosity. Perhaps it was taken, without leave, by
some person who regarded it as public property, because it had once
figured under Liberty Tree. Or, perhaps, the old chair, being of a
peaceable disposition, had made use of its four oaken legs, and run away
from the seat of war.
"It would have made a terrible clattering over the pavement," said
Charley, laughing.
"Meanwhile," continued Grandfather, "during the mysterious non-appearance
of our chair, an army of twenty thousand men had started up, and come to
the siege of Boston. General Gage and his troops were cooped up within the
narrow precincts of the peninsula. On the 17th of June, 1775, the famous
battle of Bunker Hill was fought. Here General Warren fell. The British
got the victory, indeed, but with the loss of more than a thousand
officers and men."
"O, Grandfather," cried Charley, "you must tell us about that famous
battle."
"No, Charley," said Grandfather, "I am not like other historians. Battles
shall not hold a prominent place in the history of our quiet and
comfortable old chair. But, to-morrow evening, Laurence, Clara, and
yourself, and dear little Alice too, shall visit the Diorama of Bunker
Hill. There you shall see the whole business, the burning of Charlestown
and all, with your own eyes, and hear the cannon and musketry with your
own ears."