Novanglus, and Massachusettensis / or, Political Essays, Published in the Years 1774 and 1775, on the Principal Points of Controversy, between Great Britain and Her Colonies

by John Adams; Daniel Leonard

"The revenue was not the consideration before parliament," says Massachusettensis. Let who will believe him. But if it was not, the danger to America was the same. I take no notice of the idea of a monopoly. If it had been only a monopoly (though in this light it would have been a very great grievance) it would not have excited, nor in the opinion of any one justified the step that was taken. It was an attack upon a fundamental principle of the constitution, and upon that supposition was resisted, after multitudes of petitions to no purpose, and because there was no tribunal in the constitution, from whence redress could have been obtained.

There is one passage so pretty, that I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of transcribing it. "A smuggler and a whig are cousin Germans, the offspring of two sisters, avarice and ambition. They had been playing into each other's hands a long time. The smuggler received protection from the whig, and he in his turn received support from the smuggler. The illicit trader now demanded protection from his kinsman, and it would have been unnatural in him to have refused it; and beside, an opportunity presented of strengthening his own interest."

The wit and the beauty of the style, in this place, seem to have quite enraptured the lively juvenile imagination of this writer.

The truth of the fact he never regards, any more than the justice of the sentiment. Some years ago, the smugglers might be pretty equally divided between the whigs and the tories. Since that time, they have almost all married into the tory families, for the sake of dispensations and indulgencies. If I were to let myself into secret history, I could tell very diverting stories of smuggling tories in New-York and Boston. Massachusettensis is quarrelling with some of his best friends. Let him learn more discretion.

We are then told that "the consignees offered to store the tea, under the care of the selectmen, or a committee of the town." This expedient might have answered, if none of the junto, nor any of their connections, had been in Boston. But is it a wonder, that the selectmen declined accepting such a deposit? They supposed they should be answerable, and nobody doubted that tories might be found who would not scruple to set fire to the store, in order to make them liable. Besides if the tea was landed, though only to be stored, the duty must be paid, which it was thought was giving up the point.

Another consideration, which had great weight, was, the other colonies were grown jealous of Boston, and thought it already deficient in point of punctuality, against the dutied articles: and if the tea was once stored, artifices might be used, if not violence, to disperse it abroad. But if through the continual vigilance and activity of the committee and the people, through a whole winter, this should be prevented; yet one thing was certain, that the tories would write to the other colonies and to England, thousands of falsehoods concerning it, in order to induce the ministry to persevere, and to sow jealousies and create divisions among the colonies.

Our acute logician then undertakes to prove the destruction of the tea unjustifiable, even upon the principle of the whigs, that the duty was unconstitutional. The only argument he uses is this: that "unless we purchase the tea, we shall never pay the duty." This argument is so frivolous, and has been so often confuted and exposed, that if the party had any other, I think they would relinquish this. Where will it carry us? If a duty was laid upon our horses, we may walk;—if upon our butcher's meat, we may live upon the produce of the dairy;—and if that should be taxed, we may subsist as well as our fellow slaves in Ireland, upon spanish potatoes and cold water. If a thousand pounds was laid upon the birth of every child, if children are not begotten, none will be born;—if, upon every marriage, no duties will be paid, if all the young gentlemen and ladies agree to live batchelors and maidens.

In order to form a rational judgment of the quality of this transaction, and determine whether it was good or evil, we must go to the bottom of this great controversy. If parliament has a right to tax us and legislate for us, in all cases, the destruction of the tea was unjustifiable; but if the people of America are right in their principle, that parliament has no such right, that the act of parliament is null and void, and it is lawful to oppose and resist it, the question then is, whether the destruction was necessary? for every principle of reason, justice and prudence, in such cases, demands that the least mischief shall be done; the least evil among a number shall always be preferred.

All men are convinced that it was impracticable to return it, and rendered so by Mr. Hutchinson and the Boston consignees. Whether to have stored it would have answered the end, or been a less mischief than drowning it, I shall leave to the judgment of the public. The other colonies, it seems, have no scruples about it, for we find that whenever tea arrives in any of them, whether from the East India Company, or any other quarter, it never fails to share the fate of that in Boston. All men will agree that such steps ought not to be taken, but in cases of absolute necessity, and that such necessity must be very clear. But most people in America now think, the destruction of the Boston tea was absolutely necessary, and therefore right and just. It is very true, they say, if the whole people had been united in sentiment, and equally stable in their resolution, not to buy or drink it, there might have been a reason for preserving it; but the people here were not so virtuous or so happy. The British ministry had plundered the people by illegal taxes, and applied the money in salaries and pensions, by which devices, they had insidiously attached to their party, no inconsiderable number of persons, some of whom were of family, fortune and influence, though many of them were of desperate fortunes, each of whom, however, had his circle of friends, connections and dependants, who were determined to drink tea, both as evidence of their servility to administration, and their contempt and hatred of the people. These it was impossible to restrain without violence, perhaps bloodshed, certainly without hazarding more than the tea was worth. To this tribe of the wicked, they say, must be added another, perhaps more numerous, of the weak; who never could be brought to think of the consequences of their actions, but would gratify their appetites, if they could come at the means. What numbers are there in every community, who have no providence, or prudence in their private affairs, but will go on indulging the present appetite, prejudice, or passion, to the ruin of their estates and families, as well as their own health and characters! how much larger is the number of those who have no foresight for the public, or consideration of the freedom of posterity? Such an abstinence from the tea, as would have avoided the establishment of a precedent, dependent on the unanimity of the people, was a felicity that was unattainable. Must the wise, the virtuous and worthy part of the community, who constituted a very great majority, surrender their liberty, and involve their posterity in misery in complaisance to a detestable, though small party of knaves, and a despicable, though more numerous company of fools?

If Boston could have been treated like other places, like New York and Philadelphia, the tea might have gone home from thence, as it did from those cities. That inveterate, desperate junto, to whom we owe all our calamities, were determined to hurt us in this, as in all other cases, as much as they could. It is to be hoped they will one day repent and be forgiven, but it is very hard to forgive without repentance. When the news of this event arrived in England, it excited such passions in the minister as nothing could restrain; his resentment was inkindled into revenge, rage, and madness; his veracity was piqued, as his master piece of policy, proved but a bubble. The bantling was the fruit of a favourite amour, and no wonder that his natural affection was touched, when he saw it dispatched before his eyes. His grief and ingenuity, if he had any, were affected at the thought that he had misled the East India Company so much nearer to destruction, and that he had rendered the breach between the kingdom and the colonies almost irreconcilable: his shame was excited because opposition had gained a triumph over him, and the three kingdoms were laughing at him for his obstinacy and his blunders: instead of relieving the company he had hastened its ruin: instead of establishing the absolute and unlimited sovereignty of parliament over the colonies, he had excited a more decisive denial of it, and resistance to it. An election drew nigh and he dreaded the resentment even of the corrupted electors.