American Rebels

by Nina Sankovitch

  But there was no fire: “In the Street We were informed that the British Soldiers had fired on the Inhabitants, killed some and wounded others near the Town house.”2

  Soldiers firing on citizens? It was unthinkable, and the idea of it frightened John Adams. The Massachusetts Charter prohibited British forces from taking offensive measures against colonists without permission of the colonial authorities; and the tacit agreement between colonists and Crown officials was that a semblance of order would be maintained while the issue of troops in Boston was debated in Parliament. If soldiers really had fired on citizens, John knew the entire town could turn into a rolling conflagration of riots, and no good would come from that, for anyone.

  Abigail was home alone and John worried for her; she was, as he described, “in circumstances,” pregnant with their fourth child. He hurried home, passing first in front of Town Hall, where, with relief, John found all was quiet; he then “walked down Boylstons Alley into Brattle Square, where a Company or two of regular Soldiers were drawn up in Front of Dr. Coopers old Church with their Musquets all shouldered and their Bayonetts all fixed.”

  His fears once again aroused, he “went directly home to Cold Lane. My Wife having heard that the Town was still and likely to continue so, had recovered from her first Apprehensions, and We had nothing but our Reflections to interrupt our Repose. These Reflections were to me, disquieting enough.”3

  By morning, John and Abigail Adams would hear the news: three civilians had been killed the night before and many more wounded, in what Bostonians would call a “Bloody Massacre” and the British officers would term an “Unhappy Disturbance.”4 John Hancock had received the message at midnight. He’d been home for the evening, holed up with his clerks going over ledgers, when there was a knock on his front door. He brought the messenger into his parlor, and his clerks gathered round to listen to his report.

  The messenger told them that the day before, a young boy, apprentice to a wigmaker, had taken it into his head to taunt a British soldier, proclaiming to all who passed that the soldier had failed to pay his bills to the wigmaker. Captain John Goldfinch gave the boy little notice and continued on down King Street to his barracks.

  But Hugh White, acting as sentry at the customhouse on King Street, heard the boy’s jeers. He came out from his post to wave the boy away, proclaiming that Goldfinch was a gentleman, and as such, he paid all his debts. The boy answered that there were no gentlemen in the regiment, and White struck out in anger, knocking the boy to the ground with his musket.

  A crowd quickly gathered and began yelling insults at White—“Bloody lobsterback!” “Lousy rascal!” “Lobster son of a bitch!” White retreated to his sentry post beside the customhouse, loaded his musket, and began to wave it about, all the while crying out for help: “Turn out Main Guard!”5

  Captain Thomas Preston, in charge of the main guard, arrived on the scene, with the sole intent of taking Hugh White under his protection and back to the barracks. But by this time, men had converged from every corner of the city, armed with wooden staves and clubs. Other citizens, unarmed but concerned, also came running, responding to the ringing of church bells, which usually signified a fire in the town.

  Over four hundred men, women, and children crowded into the small square in front of the customhouse. Whistles rang out and shrieks sounded from the streets and alleyways: all was mayhem.

  Preston and his guard drew close to White, and White joined them in their line. With Preston slightly out in front of the others, the British soldiers then attempted to turn around and march back to their barracks. But the colonists would not allow them to pass.

  The crowd pressed in upon the soldiers from all sides; the soldiers, tense and trembling, pushed forward, tentatively thrusting with their bayonets. From behind, the soldiers could hear a man yelling at them to fire, that he would “stand by you whilst I have a drop of blood. Fire!”6

  Someone in the crowd threw a club, launching it in the air toward the guard. The heavy wooden club hit Hugh Montgomery, one of the British soldiers, knocking him to the ground. Montgomery jumped up, red-faced with anger, and shouted, “Damn you, fire!”7 With that, he pulled the trigger of his musket. In the next minutes, other soldiers opened fire and stabbed at the crowd with their bayonets.

  At the end of this brief bout of fighting—no longer than five minutes—Crispus Attucks, a former slave, lay dead, along with Samuel Gray, a rope maker, and James Caldwell, a sailor. Samuel Maverick, a seventeen-year-old apprentice, died at first morning’s light from an injury from a musket ball; Patrick Carr, an immigrant from Ireland, would die two weeks later.

  John Hancock shook his head in disbelief; he had both expected and dreaded a clash between soldiers and civilians, but now that it had happened, he was horrified by the magnitude of the violence. He sent his clerks home and asked the messenger to wait as he wrote out a series of notes to be conveyed to his fellow selectmen.

  Peace, above all, had to be maintained, he counseled them; then, the problem of troops in the streets of Boston had to be addressed, once and for all. It was time for Acting Governor Hutchinson to protect the citizens of Boston and demand that the troops be removed from the city.

  Samuel Quincy, woken from his sleep in the early hours of the morning, was of the same opinion: peace first; troops next. Arrests would have to be made, and the British soldiers held accountable for their crimes. But how to address the larger issue, the presence of so many British soldiers on American streets, terrorizing Americans? Samuel put the question aside. For now, as solicitor general of the colony, the trials were his concern. The legal process had to be perceived as fair and just, both in Massachusetts and in England. The men accused of firing upon the crowd must be immediately apprehended and indicted; legal counsel for these British defendants would have to be secured; and the trials should be held as quickly as possible.

  Thomas Hutchinson, called out to the scene just before midnight, stood on the balcony of the Town House and addressed the crowd below: “The law shall have its course” was the promise that he made when urging them all to go home. “I will live and die by the law.”8

  By the following morning, Preston and eight of the soldiers under his command were under arrest for murder. John Hancock, meeting that morning at City Hall with Hutchinson, Secretary of State Andrew Oliver, and the British commander, Colonel Dalrymple, sought next to address the issue of the troops. While he attended the meeting with the acting governor, a huge turnout of citizens had convened in Faneuil Hall to demand the removal of the troops from Boston. They cheered the arrests of Preston and his men but protested that all other troops, guilty by association, should be evicted from the city as soon as possible. The crowd swelled to such a number that the meeting had to be moved to the Old South Meeting House, where John Adams and his cousin Sam stood together, seeking to maintain both the order and the energy of the crowd.

  Hutchinson and Dalrymple seemed unwilling to yield to the demands of the selectmen of Boston or its townspeople. It was only when Hancock used the threat of more violence—“upwards of 4000 men [are] ready to take Arms … and many of them of the first Property, Character, and Distinction in the Province”9—that Dalrymple and Hutchinson finally agreed it was time to get all the soldiers out of the city. Andrew Oliver later recalled that, had the troops not been removed, “they would probably be destroyed by the people—should it be called rebellion, should it incur the loss of our charter, or be the consequence what it would.”10 Plans were made to evacuate the troops within days, moved to Castle Island in the harbor or sent out of the colony altogether.

  In the meantime, however, in order to keep the peace, members of the Suffolk County Bar Association organized a volunteer brigade composed of lawyers, merchants, store owners, and other stalwarts of the community. They were charged with guarding Captain Preston and the other prisoners and keeping order in the streets. As reported in the Boston Gazette, “A military watch has been kept every-night of the townhouse an
d prison, in which many of the most respectable gentlemen of the town have appeared as the common soldier, and night after night have given their attendance.”11

  John Adams told Abigail about how awkward he felt taking his turn as watchman, encumbered by musket, bayonet, broadsword, and cartridge box—and yet how necessary such watch-taking was to ensure against more outbreaks of violence in the town. Every man had his duty to do, and John would do his. But in the days to come, much more than standing watch would be asked of him; and he would do what was asked, again, in the interests of protecting his colony.

  * * *

  Josiah Quincy Jr. was in his offices on King Street when a messenger from the city jail arrived. Captain Preston had asked for him to come to the jail. Quincy, intrigued, agreed. When he entered the captain’s cell, the two men were left alone. Quincy emerged a short time later. He first asked that Preston be moved to more comfortable accommodations; then he arranged for a series of messages to be sent, addressing them to several leading men in the community. When Quincy finally left the jail, he hurried to his law office to await the response to his messages.

  It was early evening by the time Josiah met with John Adams and leaders of the Sons of Liberty, including Sam Adams, Joseph Warren, and William Molineux. Thomas Cushing, William Cooper, and Josiah’s father-in-law, William Phillips, arrived just after dinner, and Hancock came later, held up by business.

  Gathered in Josiah’s library, the men listened as Josiah laid out for them the request made by Captain Preston that morning: that Josiah represent the captain, and those men accused along with him, on the charges of murder. Josiah explained that he told Preston, “I would afford him my assistance; but … I made the most explicit declaration to him of my real opinion on the contests … and that my heart and hand were indissolubly attached to the cause of my country.”12

  Nevertheless, Josiah believed that “these criminals, charged with murder, are not yet legally proved guilty, and therefore, however criminal, are entitled, by the laws of God and man, to all legal counsel and aid.” He told the patriots gathered in his library, “my duty as a man oblige[s] me … [and] my duty as a lawyer strengthen[s] the obligation” to defend the British men against the charges of murder. Josiah asked John Adams to join him on the case, but both men first awaited the opinions of the gathered Sons of Liberty.

  Agreement was quickly reached that it was in the interests of the colony that the trial of Preston and his men be seen as just and fair; accordingly, Josiah Quincy and John Adams were “advised and urged” to undertake the defense of the accused British captain and his soldiers.13 The only way to show both the colonists and the Crown that Massachusetts was a law-abiding colony was to follow the law and let the legal case unfold.

  In any event, Sam Adams assured his fellow patriots, no jury composed of the citizens of Boston would ever allow these men to go free. John Adams and Josiah Quincy exchanged a glance: it was their job to make sure that even a jury made up of the most tried-and-true Sons of Liberty would do just that.

  Captain Preston shared Sam Adams’ opinion about a Boston jury; privately, he lamented that he was sure to “be at the mercy of a partial jury, whose prejudice is kept up by a set of designing villains, that only draw their subsistence from the disturbance they cause … [I anticipate] a shameful end.”14

  But publicly, Preston proclaimed his trust in the system, and he willingly put his future in the hands of Josiah Quincy Jr. and John Adams. The addition of one more to the legal team—Robert Auchmuty, a vice admiralty court judge and a Tory lawyer—added a layer of insurance to his cause.

  * * *

  Paul Revere’s engraving of seven soldiers aiming muskets at a crowd of frightened colonists was published in Boston by the end of the month. Entitled “The Bloody Massacre perpetrated in King Street, Boston on March 5th 1770 by a party of the 29th Regiment,” it would be reprinted around the colonies and in England in the weeks to come, inciting anger in the other colonies and an outpouring of support and condolences to their Boston compatriots.

  The British version of the night’s events, published mere days after the killings, portrayed the colonists as the villains who started the trouble and instigated a justified defense by the soldiers: “The natural desire of defending themselves, and the sense of the duty incumbent upon them in that unhappy moment to repel force by force in order to defend [against] … at least an hundred people, armed with bludgeons, sticks, and cutlasses, will be sufficient to account for their firing on the assailants.”15

  On the very day that the Boston Massacre took place—March 5, 1770—Parliament voted to repeal the Townshend Acts. All taxes on British goods coming into American ports were removed, with the exception of tea. As Lord North explained, the right to tax Americans was absolute; but for now, only the one tax would be collected. As for measures providing for the troops in Boston and for the juryless trials administered in admiralty courts, both would remain in force.

  Americans would not hear of the repeal of the acts until May, when the news arrived on the Haley, one of John Hancock’s ships. For many, the news was received with relief. But for Josiah Quincy Jr., with troops still stationed on Castle Island and taxes still taken on tea, it was both too little and too late: blood had been spilled and lives had been lost.

  Although he still had faith in his king, all faith in Parliament and in their officials in the colony was gone. As for Governor Hutchinson, Josiah felt only deep disdain for the man; he described Hutchinson as an example of the maxim “Power of itself makes men wanton, distrustfull, and cruel,” calling Hutchinson a “Little Caesar—a miniature tyrant.”16

  The important thing now was to demonstrate to the king (and prove to a distrustful Parliament) that the colony was both law-abiding and just. The trials of Preston and the others involved in the Boston Massacre would have to be conducted with the utmost legality, formality, and transparency. The verdicts reached had to be unimpeachable and final. With John Adams at his side, Josiah was determined to prove to the world that “nothing should appear on this trial to impeach our justice, or stain our humanity.”17

  * * *

  Josiah Sr. was beside himself with worry when he heard through friends in Braintree that his youngest son would be representing “those criminals charged with murder of their fellow citizens.” In a letter to his son, he asked, “Good God! Is it possible? I will not believe it.”18 He ended the letter with a plea: “it has filled the bosom of your aged and infirm parent with anxiety and distress, lest it should not only prove true, but destructive of your reputation and interest; and I repeat, I will not believe it, unless it be confirmed by your own mouth, or under your own hand.” He signed off the letter as “Your anxious and distressed parent.”19

  Josiah Jr. quickly sent a response, to settle his rattled father’s mind and heart. He first dealt with the actions of his father’s supposed friends in Braintree: “Before pouring their reproaches into the ear of the aged and infirm, if they had been friends, they would have surely spared a little reflection on the nature of an attorney’s oath and duty … and some small portion of patience in viewing my past and future conduct.”20

  Then he assured his father, “I dare affirm that you and this whole people will one day REJOICE that I became an advocate for the aforesaid ‘criminals’” and added, “I never harboured the expectation, nor any great desire, that all men should speak well of me. To inquire my duty, and to do it, is my aim. Being mortal, I am subject to error; and, conscious of this, I wish to be diffident. Being a rational creature, I judge for myself, according to the light afforded me. When a plan of conduct is formed with an honest deliberation, neither murmuring, slander, nor reproaches move me.… There are honest men in all sects,—I wish their approbation;—there are wicked bigots in all parties,—I abhor them.”21

  Josiah Jr. had little need to worry that his reputation would suffer for taking on the defense of the soldiers. While there were some men on the street who attacked both Quincy and Adams for
representing the accused murderers—“incurring a Clamour and popular Suspicions and prejudices”—the Sons of Liberty and their followers understood the important role the two men played.22

  For the men who knew him—and the men whose opinion he valued—Josiah’s integrity was without stain. In May 1770, even after taking on the Boston Massacre case, he was trusted with writing up the instructions for Boston’s representatives to the Massachusetts General Court. The instructions would guide the legislators in all their dealings with the colonywide legislative body, and Josiah made sure that his guidance was for increased resistance to parliamentary control over colonial matters. When he presented his draft of the instructions, the document was unanimously accepted by the town committee without any changes made and then published widely for all to see.

  Once again relying on his beloved maxims, Josiah wrote his instructions citing “Obsta principiis”—resist the tyrant—and stated that any royal decrees and prerogatives that did not advance the good of the colony were not binding, but should be rejected before any dangerous precedent was set: “The further Nations recede and give way to gigantick Strides of any powerful Despot, the more rapidly the fiend will advance to spread wild desolation.”

  As an example, British troops patrolling Boston fulfilled no good purpose, Quincy argued, and indeed created a “despicable situation.” Therefore, the stationing of troops in Boston, even if quartered on Castle Island, must be protested at all costs, and with “open, manly, bold and pertinacious exertions for our freedom.”23