He was born in Boston in 1722. His father was a well-to-do man, who filled a large place in the community. Of Samuel Adams's boyhood we know little, but as far as we can learn he was a studious, in-door sort of lad, with little fondness for sport of any kind. His father wished him to be a clergyman, but he preferred to study law. Since, however, his mother did not approve, he gave that up for a business life, eventually joining his father in the malt business.
When the excitement over the Stamp Act began, Samuel Adams was forty-two years old. He was of medium size, with gray hair and keen gray eyes. Although his hands were tremulous, as if with age, his health was vigorous. Like Patrick Henry, he had but little aptitude for business. So we need not be surprised to learn that in time he lost about all the property his father had left him.
In fact, Samuel Adams soon gave up all kinds of private business, devoting his time and strength to public life. As a result he and his family had to live on the very small salary which he received as clerk of the Assembly of Massachusetts. Poor as he was, however, no man could be more upright. The British tried to buy him, but found him the very soul of honor. In what way he gave expression to his interest in the public welfare can be briefly told.
As we have already seen, King George, much against his will, had to submit to the repeal of the Stamp Act by Parliament. But he was not satisfied. He could never carry out his selfish scheme of personal government in England and in America if he allowed the stubborn colonists to have their way in this matter.
In 1767, therefore, through his tool, Townshend, Parliament levied new port duties on a few articles, including glass, lead, paper, and tea. These new taxes were hateful to the colonists because they were levied by Parliament, and because the money thus raised was to be used to their disadvantage in various ways: For example, some of it was to pay for maintaining in America a small English army. This army, the colonists believed, the King would use to compel them to do as he willed.
The opposition to the new taxes was just as bitter as it had been against the Stamp Act. Samuel Adams felt that only slaves would submit to such high-handed oppression. He urged the people of Boston and Massachusetts to join in refusing to import any goods from England as long as the new taxes were imposed by Parliament. They did so agree, and thus inflicted great injury upon English merchants, as they had done two or three years before.
Of course these merchants suffered heavy losses, and again begged for a repeal. But the dull-witted King could not understand the Americans. Thus far he had not been able to coerce them; he now made a shrewd attempt to outwit them.
Influenced by him, Parliament took off all the new taxes except the one on tea. "There must be one tax to keep the right to tax," he said. If he could only succeed in getting the Americans to submit to paying any tax—no matter how small—that Parliament might levy, he would carry his point. He therefore urged not only the removal of all taxes except the one on tea, but also made arrangements whereby Americans could buy their taxed tea cheaper than it could be bought in England and cheaper even than they could smuggle it from Holland, as they had been doing. No doubt the King had great faith in this foolish scheme. "Of course," he argued, "the Americans will buy their tea where they can buy it cheapest, and then we will have them in a trap." But this was a huge blunder, as we shall now see.
The East India Company arranged to ship cargoes of tea to Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. When the tea arrived, the people in New York and Philadelphia refused to let it land, and in Charleston they stored it in damp cellars, where it spoiled. But in Boston, where the Tory Governor, Hutchinson, was determined to fight a hard battle for the King, there was a most exciting time. The result was the famous "Boston Tea Party."
It was a quiet Sunday morning, on the 28th of November, 1773, when the Darmouth, one of the three tea-ships on the way to Boston, sailed into the harbor.[10] The people were attending service in the various churches. "The Darmouth is in!" spread like wildfire, and soon the streets were astir with people, Sunday though it was, in old Puritan Boston.