The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 73, November, 1863

The meeting next voted to invite any citizen to give information of the massacre of the preceding evening, "that the same might be minuted by the town-clerk"; whereupon several persons related details of the tragedy. One said he heard a soldier, after the firing, say, that "the Devil might give quarter, he should give none"; another said he heard a soldier say, that "his officer told him, that, if the soldiers went out that night, they must go armed and in companies"; another related a soldier's story of a scheme formed to kill the inhabitants; another said, he "descried a soldier who struck down the inhabitants." These homely words are life-like glimpses of the spirit of the hour. No speech could have been more eloquent, because none could have been better calculated to deepen the general conviction and minister to the common emotion. However, so many witnesses were ready to testify, that it was found to be impracticable to hear all; and a committee was appointed to receive and digest the evidence.

Samuel Adams addressed this remarkable meeting. He spoke with a pathos peculiar to himself. His manner, naturally impressive, was rendered more so by the solemnity of the occasion, and every heart was moved. The great hour demanded dignity and discretion in unison with firmness, and they were combined in the action of the meeting. It resolved that the inhabitants would submit no longer to the insult of military rule. A committee of fifteen was chosen to wait on the Lieutenant-Governor, and acquaint him that it was the unanimous opinion of the meeting that the inhabitants and soldiery could no longer dwell together in safety, and that nothing could be rationally expected to restore the peace of the town and prevent additional scenes of blood and carnage but the immediate removal of the troops; and to say, further, that they most fervently prayed his Honor that his power and influence might be exerted in order that this removal might be instantly effected. This committee well represented the intelligence, the patriotism, the varied interests, and whatever there was of true greatness in Boston. The meeting now dissolved; when the Selectmen issued a warrant for a regular town-meeting to convene at the same place, at three o'clock in the afternoon.

It was about noon when the Lieutenant-Governor received the committee of the town at the Council-Chamber, the Council being in session. I have found no details of what was said by the committee at this interview, in urging a compliance with the demand. Hutchinson said he was not prepared to reply, but would give an answer in writing, when the committee withdrew into another room; and he gives glimpses of what then occurred. "I told the Council," he says, "that a removal of the troops was not with me; and I desired them to consider what answer I could give to this application of the town, whilst Colonel Dalrymple, who had the command, was present." Some of the members, who were among the truest Patriots, urged a compliance, when the Lieutenant-Governor declared that "he would upon no consideration whatever give orders for their removal." The result reached this morning was an advice for the removal of one regiment, in which the commanding officer concurred. As Hutchinson rose from this sitting, he declared that "he meant to receive no further application on the subject."

Things wore a gloomy aspect during the interval between the session of the Council and the time of the afternoon meeting; for the natural effect of the unbending tone of the crown officials was to give firmness to the determined spirit of the people. There were consultations between members of the Council, the popular leaders, and the commanding officers; and now the very men who were branded as incendiaries, enemies of Great Britain, and traitors, were again seen quietly endeavoring to prevent a catastrophe. Hutchinson, in his History, says it was intimated to members of the Council, that, though the commanding officer should receive no authoritative order to remove all the troops, yet the expression of a desire by the Lieutenant-Governor and Council that it should be done would cause him to do it; and on this basis Hutchinson was prevailed upon to meet the Council in the afternoon. This was a great point gained for the popular cause.

At three o'clock, Faneuil Hall was filled to overflowing with the excited population assembled in legal town-meeting. Thomas Cushing was again chosen the Moderator; but the place would hold only about thirteen hundred, and the record reads, "The Hall not being spacious enough to receive the inhabitants who attended, it was voted to adjourn to Dr. Sewall's meeting-house,"—the Old South. The most convenient way for the people would be to pass into King Street, up by the Council-Chamber, and along what is now Washington Street, to the church. As they went, no mention is made of mottoes or banners or flags, of cheers or of jeers. Thomas dishing said his countrymen "were like the old British commoners, grave and sad men"; and it was said in the Council to Hutchinson, "That multitude are not such as pulled down your house"; but they are "men of the best characters," "men of estates and men of religion," "men who pray over what they do." With similar men, men who feared God and were devoted to public liberty, Cromwell won at Marston Moor; and so striking was the analogy, that at this hour it virtually forced itself on the well-read Hutchinson: for men of this stamp had once made a revolution in Boston, and as he looked out on this scene, perhaps scanned the concourse who passed from Faneuil Hall to the Old South, and read in their faces the sign of resolute hearts, he judged "their spirit to be as high as was the spirit of their ancestors when they imprisoned Andros, while they were four times as numerous." As the burden of official responsibility pressed heavily on him, he realized that he had to deal with an element far more potent than "the faction" which officials had long represented as composing the Patriot band, and that much depended on dealing with it wisely. This was not a dependent and starved host wildly urging the terrible demand of "Bread or blood"; nor was it fanaticism in a season of social discontent claiming impossibilities at the hand of power: the craving was moral and intellectual: it was an intelligent public opinion, a people with well-grounded and settled convictions, making a just demand on arbitrary power. Was such public opinion about to be scorned as though it were but a faction, and by officials who bore high the party-standard? And were men of such resoluteness of character and purpose about to be involved in a work of carnage? or would the wielders of British authority avoid the extremity by concession? Boston, indeed America, had seen no hour of intenser interest, of deeper solemnity, of more instant peril, or of truer moral sublimity; and as this assembly deliberated with the sounds of the fife and drum in their ears, and with the soldiery in their sight, questions like these must have been on every lip,—and they are of the civil-war questions that cause an involuntary shudder in every home.

The Old South was not large enough to hold the people, and they stood in the street and near the Town-House awaiting the report of the committee of fifteen, chosen in the morning. The Lieutenant-Governor was now at the Council-Chamber, where, in addition to Colonels Dalrymple and Carr, there had been summoned Captain Caldwell of the Rose frigate; and Hutchinson would, he says, have summoned other crown officers, but he knew the Council would not consent to it. He took care to repeat to the committee, he says, the declaration which he had made in the morning to the Selectmen, the Justices, and the Council,—that "the ordering of the troops did not lie with him." As the committee, with Samuel Adams at the head, appeared on the Town-House steps, the people were in motion, and the word passed, "Make way for the committee!" Adams uncovered his head, and, as he went towards the church, he bowed alternately to those on each side of the lane that was formed, and repeated the words, "Both regiments or none." The answer of the Lieutenant-Governor to the morning demand for a total removal of the troops was read to the meeting in the church. It was to the effect, that he had conferred with the commanders of the two regiments, who received orders from the General in New York, and it was not in his power to countermand these orders; but the Council desired their removal, and Colonel Dalrymple had signified that because of the part which the Twenty-Ninth Regiment had taken in the differences it should be placed without delay in the barracks at the Castle, and also that the main guard should be removed; while the Fourteenth Regiment should be so disposed and laid under such restraint that all occasion for future differences might be prevented. And now resounded through the excited assembly, from a thousand tongues, the words, "Both regiments or none!"

A short debate occurred, when the answer was voted to be unsatisfactory. Then another committee was chosen. It was resolved that John Hancock, Samuel Adams, William Molineaux, William Phillips, Joseph Warren, Joshua Henshaw, and Samuel Pemberton be a committee to inform the Lieutenant-Governor that it was the unanimous opinion of the people that the reply was by no means satisfactory, and that nothing less would satisfy them than a total and immediate removal of the troops. This committee was one worthy of a great occasion. Hancock, Henshaw, and Pemberton, besides being individually of large and just influence from their ability, patriotism, worth, and wealth, were members of the Board of Selectmen, and therefore represented the municipality; Phillips, who had served on this Board, was a type of the upright and liberal merchant; Molineaux was one of the most determined and zealous of the Patriots, and a stirring business-man; Warren, ardent and bold, of rising fame as a leader, personified the generous devotion and noble enthusiasm of the young men; Adams, though not the first-named on the committee, played so prominent a part in its doings, that he appears as its chairman. He was so widely and favorably known now that he was addressed as "the Father of America." Of middling stature, plain in dress, quiet in manner, unpretending in deportment, he exhibited nothing extraordinary in common affairs; but on great occasions, when his deeper nature was called into action, he rose, without the smallest affectation, into an upright dignity of figure and bearing,—with a harmony of voice and a power of speech which made a strong impression, the more lasting from the purity and nervous eloquence of his style and the logical consistency of his argument. Such were the men selected to speak and act for Boston in this hour of deep passion and of high resolve.

The committee, about four o'clock, repaired to the Council-Chamber. It was a room respectable in size and not without ornament and historic memorials. On its walls were representatives of the two elements now in conflict,—of the Absolutism that was passing away, in full-length portraits of Charles II. and James II. robed in the royal ermine, and of a Republicanism which had grown robust and self-reliant, in the heads of Belcher and Bradstreet and Endicott and Winthrop. Around a long table were seated the Lieutenant-Governor and the members of the Council with the military officers,—the scrupulous and sumptuous costumes of civilians in authority, gold and silver lace, scarlet cloaks, and large wigs, mingled with the brilliant uniforms of the British army and navy. Into such imposing presence was now ushered the plainly attired committee of the town.

At this time the Lieutenant-Governor, a portion of the Council, the military officers, and, among other officials now in the Town-House, though not in the Council, the Secretary of the Province, were sternly resolved to refuse compliance with the demand of the people. On the vote of the meeting being presented to the Lieutenant-Governor, Adams remarked at length on the illegality of quartering troops on the inhabitants in time of peace and without the consent of the legislature, urged that the public service did not require them, adverted with sensibility and warmth to the late tragedy, painted the misery in which the town would be involved, if the troops were suffered to remain, and urged the necessity of an immediate compliance with the vote of the people. The Lieutenant-Governor, in a brief reply, defended both the legality and the necessity of the troops, and renewed his old assertion that they were not subject to his authority. Adams again rose, and attention was riveted on him as he paused and gave a searching look at the Lieutenant-Governor. There was in his countenance and attitude a silent eloquence that words could not express; his manner showed that the energies of his soul were roused; and, in a tone not loud, but deep and earnest, he again addressed himself to Hutchinson, "It is well known," he said, "that, acting as Governor of the Province, you are, by its Charter, the Commander-in-Chief of the military forces within it, and, as such, the troops now in the capital are subject to your orders. If you, or Colonel Dalrymple under you, have the power to remove one regiment, you have the power to remove both; and nothing short of their total removal will satisfy the people or preserve the peace of the Province. A multitude, highly incensed, now wait the result of this application. The voice of ten thousand freemen demands that both regiments be forthwith removed. Their voice must be respected,—their demand obeyed. Fail, then, at your peril, to comply with this requisition. On you alone rests the responsibility of the decision; and if the just expectations of the people are disappointed, you must be answerable to God and your country for the fatal consequences that must ensue. The committee have discharged their duty, and it is for you to discharge yours. They wait your final determination." As Adams, while speaking, intently eyed Hutchinson, he says, "I observed his knees to tremble; I saw his face grow pale; and I enjoyed the sight."

A spell of silence followed this appeal. Then there was low conversation, to a whisper, between the Lieutenant-Governor and Colonel Dalrymple, who, in the spirit of the unbending soldier, was for resisting this demand, as he had been for summary proceedings in the case of the meetings. "It is impossible for me," he had said this afternoon, "to go any further lengths in this matter. The information given of the intended rebellion is sufficient reason against the removal of His Majesty's troops." But he now said in a loud tone, "I am ready to obey your orders," which threw the responsibility on Hutchinson. All the members of the committee urged the demand. "Every one of them," Hutchinson says, "deliberately gave his opinion at large, and generally gave this reason to support it,—that the people would most certainly drive out the troops, and that the inhabitants of the other towns would join in it; and several of the gentlemen, declared that they did not judge from the general temper of the people only, but they knew it to be the determination, not of a mob, but of the generality of the principal inhabitants; and they added, that all the blood would be charged to me alone, for refusing to follow their unanimous advice, in desiring that the quarters of a single regiment might be changed, in order to put an end to the animosities between the troops and the inhabitants, seeing Colonel Dalrymple would consent to it." After the committee withdrew, the debates of the Council were long and earnest; and, as they went on, Hutchinson asked, "What protection would there be for the Commissioners, if both regiments were ordered to the Castle?" Several said, "They would be safe, and always had been safe." "As safe," said Gray, "without the troops as with them." And Irving said, "They never had been in danger, and he would pawn his life that they should receive no injury." "Unless the troops were removed," it was said, "before evening there would be ten thousand men on the Common." "The people in general," Tyler said, "were resolved to have the troops removed, without which they would not be satisfied; that, failing of other means, they were determined to effect their removal by force, let the act be deemed rebellion or otherwise." As the Council deliberated, the people were impatient, and the members were repeatedly called out to give information as to the result, This at length was unanimity. This body resolved, that, to preserve the peace, it was absolutely necessary that the troops should be removed; and they advised the Lieutenant-Governor to communicate that conclusion to Colonel Dalrymple, and to request that he would order his whole command to Castle William.

The remark of Dalrymple, as well as the decision of the Council, became known to the people, and the word passed round, "that Colonel Dalrymple had yielded, and that the Lieutenant-Governor only held out." This circumstance was communicated to Hutchinson, and he says, "It now lay upon me to choose that side which had the fewest and least difficulties; and I weighed and compared them as well as the time I had for them would permit. I knew it was most regular for me to leave this matter entire to the commanding officer. I was sensible the troops were designed to be, upon occasion, employed under the direction of the civil magistrate, and that at the Castle they would be too remote, in most cases, to answer that purpose. But then I considered they never had been used for that purpose, and there was no probability they ever would be, because no civil magistrate could be found under whose directions they might act; and they could be considered only as having a tendency to keep the inhabitants in some degree of awe, and even this was every day lessening; and the affronts the troops received were such that there was no avoiding quarrels and slaughter." Still he hesitated substantially to retract his word; for now a request from him, he knew, was equivalent to an order; and before he determined, he consulted three officers of the crown, who, though not present in the Council, were in the building, and the Secretary, Oliver. All agreed that he ought to comply with the advice of the Council. He then formally recommended Colonel Dalrymple to remove all the troops, who gave his word of honor that he would commence preparations in the morning for a removal, and that there should be no unnecessary delay in quartering both regiments at the Castle.

It was dark when the committee bore back to the meeting the great report of their success. It was received with expressions of the highest satisfaction. What a burden was lifted from the hearts of the Patriots! They did not, however, regard their work as quite done. They voted that a strong watch was necessary through the night, when the committee who had waited on the Lieutenant-Governor tendered their services to make a part of the watch, and the whole matter was placed in their hands as "a committee of safety." They were authorized to accept the service of such inhabitants as they might deem proper. The meeting, then dissolved. A few days after, the two regiments were removed to the Castle.

The withdrawal of the troops caused great surprise in England, and long deliberations by the Ministry. "It is put out of all doubt," Governor Bernard wrote Hutchinson, "that the attacking the soldiers was preconcerted in order to oblige them to fire, and then make it necessary to quit the town, in consequence of their doing what they were forced to do. It is considered by thinking men wholly as a manœuvre to support the cause of non-importation." The Opposition termed it an indignity put upon Great Britain, and called upon the Ministry to resent it upon a system, or to resign their offices. Lord Barrington, who approved of the soldiers' retiring to the Castle, said, that, "where there was no magistracy there should be no soldiers; and if they intended to have soldiers sent there again, they should provide for a magistracy, which could not be done but by appointing a royal Council, instead of the present democratical one." The Government were perplexed; but the expectation was general, that General Gage, without waiting for orders from the Government, would send a reinforcement to Boston, and order the whole of the troops into the town. "Every one," Governor Bernard wrote, "without exception, says it must be immediately done. Those in opposition are as loud as any. Lord Shelburne told a gentleman, who reported it to me, that it was now high time for Great Britain to act with spirit." The Governor advised Hutchinson, that, should it turn out that he had been successful in preventing Captain Preston from being murdered by the mob, "Government might be reconciled to the removal of the troops." There was much outside clamor, and those who indulged in it could not reconcile to themselves "six hundred regular troops giving way to two or three thousand common people, who, they say, would not have dared to attack them, if they had stood their ground"; and this class regarded the affair "as a successful bully." Colonel Barré, in the House of Commons, disposed of the question in a few words: "The officers agreed in sending the soldiers to Castle William; what Minister will dare to send them back to Boston?"

These events stirred the public mind in the Colonies profoundly. The Spirit evinced by the people of Boston in the whole transaction raised the town still higher in the estimation of the Patriots; annual commemorative orations kept alive the tragic scene; and thus the introduction of the troops, the question involved in their removal, and the massacre and triumph of the people, contributed powerfully to bring about that change in affections and principles which finally resulted in American Independence.

WET-WEATHER WORK

BY A FARMERIV

We are fairly on English ground now; of course, it is wet weather. The phenomena of the British climate have not changed much since the time when the rains "let fall their horrible pleasure" upon the head of the poor, drenched outcast, Lear. Thunder and lightning, however, which belonged to that particular war of the elements, are rare in England. The rain is quiet, fine, insinuating, constant as a lover,—not wasting its resources in sudden, explosive outbreaks.

During a foot-tramp of some four hundred miles, which I once had the pleasure of making upon English soil, and which led me from the mouth of the Thames to its sources, and thence through Derbyshire, the West Riding of Yorkshire, and all of the Lake counties, I do not think that the violence of the rain kept me housed for more than five days out of forty. Not to say that the balance showed sunshine and a bonny sky; on the contrary, a soft, lubricating mist is the normal condition of the British atmosphere; and a neutral tint of gray sky, when no wet is falling, is almost sure to call out from the country-landlord, if communicative, an explosive and authoritative, "Fine morning, this, Sir!"

The really fine, sunny days—days you believed in rashly, upon the sunny evidence of such blithe poets as Herrick—are so rare, that, after a month of British travel, you can count them on your fingers. On such a one, by a piece of good fortune, I saw all the parterres of Hampton Court,—its great vine, its labyrinthine walks, its stately alleys, its ruddy range of brick, its clipped lindens, its rotund and low-necked beauties of Sir Peter Lely, and the red geraniums flaming on the window-sills of once royal apartments, where the pensioned dowagers now dream away their lives. On another such day, Twickenham, and all its delights of trees, bowers, and villas, were flashing in the sun as brightly as ever in the best days of Horace Walpole or of Pope. And on yet another, after weary tramp, I toiled up to the inn-door of "The Bear," at Woodstock; and after a cut or two into a ripe haunch of Oxfordshire mutton, with certain "tiny kickshaws," I saw, for the first time, under the light of a glorious sunset, that exquisite velvety stretch of the park of Woodstock, dimpled with water, dotted with forest—clumps, where companies of sleek fallow-deer were grazing by the hundred, where pheasants whirred away down the aisles of wood, where memories of Fair Rosamond and of Rochester and of Alice Lee lingered,—and all brought to a ringing close by Southey's ballad of "Blenheim," as the shadow of the gaunt Marlborough column slanted across the path.

There are other notable places, however, which seem—so dependent are we on first impressions—to be always bathed in a rain-cloud. It is quite impossible, for instance, for me to think of London Bridge save as a great reeking thoroughfare, slimy with thin mud, with piles of umbrellas crowding over it, like an army of turtles, and its balustrade steaming with wet. The charming little Dulwich Gallery, with its Bonningtons and Murillos, I remember as situated somewhere (for I could never find it again of my own head) at a very rainy distance from London, under the spout of an interminable waterfall. The guide-books talk of a pretty neighborhood, and of a thousand rural charms thereabout; I remember only one or two draggled policemen in oil-skin capes, and with heads slanted to the wind, and my cabby, in a four-caped coat, shaking himself like a water-dog, in the area. Exeter, Gloucester, and Glasgow are three great wet cities in my memory,—a damp cathedral in each, with a damp-coated usher to each, who shows damp tombs, and whose talk is dampening to the last degree. I suppose they have sunshine in these places, and in the light of the sun I am sure that marvellous gray tower of Gloucester must make a rare show; but all the reports in the world will not avail to dry up the image of those wet days of visit.