The Tea-Party, December 16, 1773.
“New trouble brews in Boston,”
Was told us half the year;
Yet every week the postman came
With something new to fear.
“Our freedom,” so they wrote soon,
“Such progress here begets
That England seeks to check it[2]
With swords and bayonets.
“Their foreign ‘Board of Customs,’[3]
Past our laws’ reach, they say,
Here pluck from us their living,
As vultures from their prey.
Ah! would we keep our freedom,
We must not basely yield,
But claim our rights,[4] as when of old
The Stamp Act was repeal’d.”
We read, and thought together
That something must be done;
And we were those to do it,
We boys of Lebanon.
The words of Samuel Adams[4]
We heard a neighbor quote:
“They silence our Assembly;[5]
A sword is at its throat;
Our charter is their target,
Our judgment-seat their fort,[6]
Our men they rob for rations,
Our boys they shoot for sport;
Our faith that their horizon burst
And zenith held not down,
Their Toleration Law[7] would force
To cringe beneath the crown.
I care not what to others
A loyal feeling brings;
To me it still will loyal be
To serve the King of kings.”[8]
We heard, and swore together
That work must be begun;
And we were those to do it,
We boys of Lebanon.
We signed a pledge of “Union.”
To all the land we wrote.
We went to meet the postman.
We read the Boston note:
“In Union only is there strength;
And strength is all our stay.
Alas that some divide us!
Alas that some give way!
Once none would touch a thing they tax;
To-day the weak agree,
And say: ‘Enough if none will taste,
If none will trade in tea.’[9]
The lords have found our weakness out;
And now are talking thus:
That India’s losing traders
May bring tea free to us.[10]
Ay, ay, as if these would not heap
Her lap with tribute gold,
‘Let them,’ says England, ‘take the tax;
Let them the duties hold.’
“Already bound for Boston,
May tea be on the waves,
A bait flung out to tempt us
To touch, and then be slaves.
And if our strong men falter,
Nor thrust this bait away,
How can the weak be kept from all
That makes us England’s prey?
“And yet, if we in Boston
To thwart the throne conspire,
Our town may prove an altar,
Our fortunes melt in fire.
The sacrifice is ready;
Yet first we wait reply,[11]
To know we own a country
To save, before we die.”[12]
We met, and swore together,
If fighting must be done,
In Boston we would do it,
We boys of Lebanon.
We started out at midnight,
And took the Indian suits,
Our fathers’ trophies from the wars
Where all had been recruits.
We pack’d them up in knapsacks,
And then with each a gun
And tomahawk away we walk’d
In pairs or one by one.
By day we kept the forests;
But when the sun was down,
We hurried on to Boston,
And scatter’d through the town.
We hunted out our cousins.
We told them why we came.
“Aha,” said they, “we plot the same.
We join you in the game.”
They show’d us then, at morning,
The “Tree of Liberty,”
Where those who plann’d the Stamp Act[13]
Had hung in effigy.
A pole was now beside it;
A flag it bore flew high;[14]
The church bells all were ringing;
A crowd had gather’d nigh.
“To see this tree, the agent
Of stamps,” we heard, “resign’d.
Here too East India’s agent
Should learn the people’s mind:
The tea sent here to tax us
Untouch’d away shall go;
Or all will brand its consignee,
Our own, our country’s foe.”[15]
The people cheer’d the purpose;
From lip to lip it pass’d;
The crowd about went homeward;
The sky was overcast.
Each agent heard the message;
No promise would he sign.[16]
Again the town demanded one;
Again did each decline.[17]
Then Boston’s grand “Committee[18]
Of Correspondence,” wrote
To ask the farmers, “Would they stand
By what the town would vote?”
From every hill and valley
Came back, as though one word,
What Samuel Adams read with pride
Where all the people heard:
“Without a voice dissenting,
We swear by you to stand.
Our wealth or life preventing,
The tea shall never land.”[18]
Then dawn’d the stirring Sunday[19]
When swift the news was pass’d,
That one tea-ship they waited for,
Was in the port at last.
Not many went to church then;
But all began to pray,
With eyes to duty open wide—
The Puritanic way.
In haste we met together,
Our work must be begun;
We plann’d, then, how to do it,
We boys of Lebanon.
With Proctor[20] for our captain,
We vow’d on hand to be,
And cling like air and water there
About the ship with tea.
The Town-Select-Men waited on
The vessel’s consignees;
But these were waiting on the fort,[21]
Well lock’d with English keys.
True courtiers, they would tender
The governor there their tea.
The governor tried his council;
The council[22] said: “Not we;
Our homes are with the people;
And we are not the ones
To hold the cup of serfdom
To them, ourselves, or sons.”
The consignees were waiting
Until, in forms of law,
Their tea was enter’d at the port,
When none could it withdraw.[23]
So quick the Town-Committee
Had made and seal’d a writ,
And pledg’d the vessel’s owner’s word
Not yet to enter it.[24]
At Faneuil Hall,[25] next morning,
While all the bells were rung,
Men swarm’d, like bees, to buzz before,
Prepar’d to die, they stung.
The sheriff[26] came and cried aloud:
“You meet unlawfully!”
His cry but made them busier buzz,
With Saxon loyalty.
The consignees were summon’d;
“The tea,” they wrote, “we stack.”[27]
“The tea shall sail for England,”
The people answer’d back.
And then to ports in England,
And those at home they wrote:
“Tea-taxers here, or traders,
Our country’s foes we vote.[28]
Think not our men will waver,
Our wives their vows abate;
The herbs they steep for tea will keep
Less bitter than their hate.”
Two tea-ships more were sighted.[29]
Our guards, like nerves, were strung[30]
From bay to every belfry’s bell,
The slightest move had rung.
Then spoke the vessels’ owners:
“Our tea is legal prey
For fort and fleet, if enter’d not
Before the twentieth[31] day.”
“Then send it off to sea again,”
The Town-Committee said.
“Too much you ask,” was answer’d,
“For then would blood be shed.
The port’s collector warns us
We must not clear the port.
Without his ‘Writ of Clearance,’
We dare not brook the fort.”
They pointed down the harbor:
There lay the fleet,[32] alas,
Like prongs along the channel,
To rake whate’er should pass.
They pointed toward the castle,
And all the guns within
Bespoke how they would treat a prey
That sought the sea to win.
At this our Town-Committee
The port’s collector sought;[33]
The governor,[33] too, exulting[34]
To think his trap had caught.
“You mark the fleet and castle;
Should trouble brew,” said he;
“Your Hancocks, Rowes, and Phillips[34]
Might risk as much as we.”
But Molineux[35] said only:
“They more would risk if slaves;
For all they then could wish, would be
Enough to give them graves.”
“‘If slaves’!” the governor answer’d,
And rail’d against their cause;
“Aha!—you talk of ‘slaves,’ forsooth,
Because your land has laws!
And you would dare to break them?—
And reason, what of it?—
I trust in human nature,
When reason should submit.”
“We trust in human nature,”
Said Young,[36] who near him stood;
“And peace that brooks oppression,
It does not deem a good.
We trust in human nature;
The conscience, ruling there,
May guard the right, full well as kings
With crowns their dearest care.
Love rules in human nature,
For, all of history through,
The slaves have been the many,
The tyrants been the few.”
The governor turn’d in anger:
“Well, well, we then shall see.
Your hint of flint can wring no ‘Writ
Of Clearance’ here from me.”
Then met the town together,
Their final vote to take.
Not one, of seven thousand[38] there,
Desired the peace to break.
Said Quincy:[37] “Crowds and shoutings
Can never end our strife.
But sadder scenes and sounds await
Our loss of wealth and life.
The structures fair of freedom
Men rear beneath the sky,
Press down on deep foundations,
Where thousands buried lie.
Our course we well may ponder:
Hope’s rainbow in the cloud
May lure a march beneath its arch
To flash and bolt and shroud.”
The people paused and ponder’d;
But not a single hand,[38]
When call’d to vote, but voted,
“The tea shall never land.”
And then we met together;
If fighting must be done,
We knew we now should do it,
We boys of Lebanon.
In one day more—one only—[39]
The fleet and fort would hold
The tea that none could longer keep
From being bought and sold.
Close by we sought our quarters;
And from our knapsacks quick
We took our Indian guises;
And stain’d our cheeks with brick.
Anon, we half were ready,
With tomahawks in hand[40];
And half, with muskets only,[40]
And heard our last command.
A moment then we waited;
We knew the danger there;
We looked above for courage;
We bent below in prayer.
We swore by God in heaven,
To keep our names from all;
We swore to stand together,
Till all in death should fall;
We swore, by truth and honor,
Should half essay to flee,
To cast that half the harbor in
To perish with the tea.[40]
The twilight long had tarried;
The darkness deeper grew;
In old South Church, the people
Still ponder’d what to do.
The dimness veil’d our coming.
We listen’d near the door,
Till Samuel Adams rose and said,[41]
“We here can do no more.”
And then we pass’d the word on:
“To Griffin’s wharf now!—run!”
For we knew where to do the rest,
We boys of Lebanon.
Then off flew some as pickets
To stand and sound alarms,
Should coming spies or soldiers
Compel resort to arms.
The twilight long had tarried;
The darkness deeper grew;
“Full time,” said we, “to take our tea!”
The people thought so too.
To Griffin’s wharf we led them;
We row’d, and reach’d the ships;
No captain there, nor sailor,
Dared open once his lips.
We crowded every gangway;
We brought out every chest;
We smash’d and dash’d it overboard.
The bay did all the rest.
No time was there for shouting,
No wish was there for strife;
Three hours we wrought in silence,
And thank’d the Lord for life.
Anon, the work was ended;
Anon, we back could row;
The heaven was black above us;
The harbor black below.
None thought on shore to cheer us,[42]
Though all had waited there;
Their silence match’d the silence,
Where souls have flown to prayer.
Their silence match’d the silence
Of war’s reserves, whose breath
Is hush’d to hear the order,
That orders all to death.
Their silence match’d the silence
Of heavens, close and warm,
Ere, like a shell incasing hell,
They burst and free a storm.
As hush’d as on a Sabbath,[42]
The people homeward went;
Their eyes alone transparent,
To show their souls’ content.
But we, we met together,
When all our work was done,
To toast the dawn of freedom,
We boys of Lebanon.
Then, early stirr’d at morning,
We left with Paul Revere,[43]
Who through the south went riding off
To bear, from Boston, cheer.
We spread through all the country;
We told, how all was done;
Till all the shoremen stored away
A tomahawk and gun.
Throughout the land, no Tory
Would brave their sworn attack;
East India found no agent;
The tea that came went back.
But, better far for freedom,[44]
There ran from mouth to mouth,
From soul to soul, a tide to roll,
And flow from north to south.
Beyond the power of local pride
Or envy to withstand,
It burst each colony’s borders
To form one common land.[44]
Before men talk’d of Union;
But now was Union won,
When everywhere each village square
Held boys of Lebanon.