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Add as preferred source When MIT historian Tristan Brown first examined a Chinese tea chest label displayed as a relic of the Boston Tea Party, he had no reason to doubt its story.
Descendants of Boston blacksmith Thomas Wells had donated the label to the Old South Meeting House in 1987, saying it had been recovered during the destruction of British tea in 1773. Because so few objects from the protest survive, the label appeared to offer a rare material connection to the event.
But after a year of archival and linguistic research, Brown reached a different conclusion: The label was made nearly a century later.
The decisive clue lay hidden in its Chinese text. Earlier researchers had approached the text through Mandarin, but Brown found that one sequence of characters was being used phonetically. Read in Cantonese, it rendered the name "Smith, Archer," identifying Smith, Archer & Co., an American trading firm active in East Asia during the 1860s and 1870s.
The discovery does not make the label historically insignificant. Instead, it reveals a different story—one connecting Chinese migration, Pacific commerce, family memory and the ways Americans constructed the history of the Revolution.
Brown presents his findings in " Tea Chest Label ," published in American Historical Review . What began as an inquiry into a supposed Boston Tea Party relic became a study of how ordinary objects acquire historical authority and how historical memory itself is made.
The project began in 2024, when the American Historical Review issued a call for essays on 76 objects connected to 1776, the year the United States declared independence from Britain.
"I'm a historian of China and don't usually work in American history, but the idea of taking on one of 76 artifacts for the 250th anniversary of the United States sounded like a fun challenge," Brown says.
As he considered which object to study, Brown recalled seeing the intriguing Chinese label during a visit to the Old South Meeting House, a major site of public debate in Revolutionary-era Boston and the place where colonists gathered before the Tea Party.
The label offered Brown an unusual point of entry into the history of the Boston Tea Party. Its apparent significance was heightened by the scarcity of surviving objects from the event.
That scarcity reflects the nature of the protest itself. The destruction of the tea was a criminal act, and participants had strong reasons to conceal their identities and avoid punishment by the British Crown. Even today, no completely definitive list exists of the people who took part.
"That is one reason why the event remains shrouded in a degree of mystery," Brown says.
Given that uncertainty, Brown pursued two lines of investigation simultaneously: establishing the label's provenance and deciphering the label's wording.
At the outset, he learned that scholars associated with the British Museum and Harvard University had examined the label. Their assessments had not definitively authenticated the label as a Tea Party relic, but neither had they ruled out an 18th-century origin.
"I believed it was real," Brown says. "None of the parties who had previously assessed the label's provenance concluded definitively that it wasn't from the Boston Tea Party. And frankly, it was hard to imagine how an American family with no ties to China could have possessed a label written in formal Chinese listing the exact teas that were traded in the region."
Brown spent months interviewing Wells descendants and searching for original documents that might connect the label to the 1773 protest. At the same time, he began tracing how the family tradition surrounding the object had developed.
Because claims of family participation in the Tea Party are often difficult to verify, Brown worked closely with members of the Wells family throughout the project and found in them willing and generous partners. As the evidence began pointing away from the Revolutionary era, the research required both scholarly rigor and personal sensitivity.
"The Wells family, especially Charles Wells, were extraordinary collaborators," Brown says. "They cared deeply about their ancestor's legacy and the label's history, and they wanted the truth as much as I did. This is their discovery as much as mine."
The Chinese wording on the label presented a separate challenge.
Brown could see that part of the text did not function like ordinary Chinese prose, but its meaning remained elusive. The breakthrough came when he revisited the way earlier scholars had pronounced the characters.
Previous translations and interpretations had relied on Mandarin, China's official language rooted in the northern part of the country. Brown gradually recognized that one sequence of characters was being used phonetically to represent a foreign company name. When pronounced in Cantonese—the dominant language of the 19th-century commercial networks in which the label circulated—the characters reproduced the name "Smith, Archer."
That reading identified Smith, Archer & Co., a New York-based import-export firm with offices in East Asia during the 1860s and 1870s. The company acquired Chinese and Japanese teas for shipment to American markets.
The label also named Yuan Tianbo, a Cantonese merchant connected to that trading network, whom Brown later traced to Yokohama, Japan, in the 1860s.
The linguistic clue therefore did more than reveal a company name. It established that the label belonged to the world of 19th-century Pacific commerce, not the tightly controlled Canton trading system of the 1770s.
"That was the moment the entire story changed," Brown says. "Once we could date the label, we finally knew where to look."
Once Brown had identified t...