THE PAUL REVERE PRINT OF THE BOSTON MASSACRE
Louise Phelps Kellogg
The colony of Massachusetts had successfully resisted the enforcement of the Stamp Act, and had forced its repeal by the British Parliament. None the less its rebellious attitude brought a measure of punishment—the ministry decreed that four regiments should be quartered in Boston, which had hitherto been free from the obnoxious presence of a garrison. The coming of the troops was awaited with apprehension; the majority of the townspeople considered their presence as a personal affront. However, the soldiers were disembarked at the long wharf and marched to the Common without any hostile demonstration on the part of the populace. The soldiers soon settled in barracks and entered upon a period of dull inactivity, broken only by occasional clashes with the rougher elements of the town’s population. After a year had passed away two of the four regiments were withdrawn, leaving the Fourteenth and the Twenty-ninth, which, after the events of the massacre, were nicknamed the “Sam Adams regiments.”
In the strained relations between the colonial authorities and the home government, the presence of the troops in Boston acted as a constant irritant. The ruder class of the town’s population, sailors, ropemakers, and apprentice lads, were imbued with the sentiments of the patriotic party, but lacked the restraint and self-control that marked its leaders. The soldiers became a constant butt for the rough witticisms of the lower town element; they were taunted with the epithets of “bloody-backs” and “lobsters” in derision of their uniform. They were constantly dared to fight, and continually reminded of the restriction that forbade a movement of aggression without the orders of a civil magistrate. Several
times individual soldiers were provoked into fisticuff contests, and frequently came off second best in such encounters with the town roughs. Upon the whole, the troops showed commendable restraint, and, in spite of the bad blood between them and the populace, for nearly two years no open clash took place.
On the night of March 5, 1770, an incident occurred which, trivial in itself, led to momentous consequences. A guard stationed at the Custom House in King’s Square was set upon by a crowd of roughs, and assaulted with a volley of snowballs. Summoning assistance, the single soldier was reënforced by a squad of six under command of Captain Thomas Preston. The town crowd, instead of dispersing, continued its insults, while its number was constantly swelled by fresh recruits. During the excitement someone rang the town fire bell, and the surrounding populace poured into the square to witness the nonexistent conflagration. The restraint of the troops reached the breaking point. In the mêlée an order to fire was believed to have been heard. The soldiers leveled their fusees and fired into the crowd, the first volley killing four bystanders and wounding several more. Aghast at the consequences of their act, the offending squad withdrew to the near-by barracks, leaving the “town-born” to bear away their dead and wounded.
The excitement in the city grew apace throughout the hours of the night. The townspeople gathered in the streets, while as the news spread abroad hundreds flocked in from the countryside. The town committee met at once, and demanded of the governor that the troops be removed to the castle in the harbor. After much hesitation and parleying on the part of the authorities, the request was granted, and orders were reluctantly given to evacuate the city barracks. Preston and his firing squad were arrested and placed in the town gaol. The exasperation and resentment of the populace threatened dire consequences.
On March 8 occurred the public funeral of the victims, and the passions of the townspeople were fanned to a still hotter flame; it was said that fifteen thousand people followed the four coffins to their last resting place, and that threats of vengeance were openly expressed. The trial for murder of Preston and the soldiers in the colony’s civil courts soon followed. Excitement against the accused ran high. Nevertheless, to the honor of Massachusetts the indicted were given a fair trial, while two of the colony’s ablest advocates, John Adams and Josiah Quincy, Jr., offered at the risk of their reputations and popularity to defend the accused. Under these circumstances Preston and all but two of the soldiers were acquitted. The latter received a light sentence for manslaughter.
In the meantime the town committee, fearing the adverse effect of this incident upon the British authorities, and dreading the probable misrepresentation of the facts before the British public, prepared a defense of the colony’s position which they published in a pamphlet entitled: A Short Narrative of the horrid Massacre in Boston, Perpetrated in the Evening of the Fifth Day of March, 1770. By Soldiers of the XXIXth Regiment; which with the XIVth Regiment Were then Quartered there: with some Observations on the state of things prior to that Catastrophe. Printed by Order of the Town of Boston, and Sold by Edes and Gill in Queen-Street And T. & J. Fleet in Cornhill, 1770.
Attached to this pamphlet was a folded plate, which, according to an inscription in the lower right-hand corner was “Engraved Printed & Sold by Paul Revere Boston.” Recently Mr. Frank J. Wilder, of Boston, a member of the State Historical Society, presented to its Library one of the early reproductions, now become rare, of this celebrated engraving. The receipt of this interesting gift, which now hangs in the military history room of the Museum, has
directed attention to the history of the print, which proves to be of no less interest than is the print itself.
Paul Revere, later so prominently associated with the first struggle of the Revolutionary War, was of Huguenot descent, a native of Boston, and had for some time served the colony as a gold- and silversmith. His first efforts at engraving were confined to silver plate; later he began to produce engravings drawn on copper plates and printed on paper. One of the earliest of these productions was a view of Boston showing the disembarkation of the troops. Revere was an ardent patriot, and in all probability formed one of the crowd of spectators in King Street Square when the soldiers fired upon the populace. In the Boston Public Library is still preserved a sketch by his hand of the site of the massacre, with indications on the diagram showing where the victims fell. This drawing was no doubt used during the trial of Captain Preston and his soldiers.
Revere was likewise in close personal relations with Edes and Gill, the publishers of the exculpatory pamphlet, and he often prepared wood cuts for the paper they issued, the Boston Gazette and Country Journal. An interesting illustration of his work appears in the issue of this journal for March 12, 1770, where above the column devoted to an account of the public funeral of the victims appear four miniature black coffins. That these were the work of Revere we learn from an old account book, found among his papers, wherein, under the entry for March 9, is a charge to Edes and Gill of six shillings for “Engraving 5 Coffings for Massacre,” while pinned to the page is a paper pattern the size and shape of the tiny coffins appearing in the newspaper. The State Historical Society of Wisconsin possesses a copy of this old journal, and there may be seen the heavily black-leaded page, on which mourning is displayed for the Boston dead, and the prints of the “coffings” engraved by Revere, on each of which is cut a skull and crossbones over the initials
of the victim. On that of the youngest of the four appear the words: “Ae. 17,” with a scythe and hourglass indicative of his having been cut off in the flower of youth. On the same page with the account of the tragedy and the funeral occurs the following interesting letter from Captain Preston:
Boston-Gaol, Monday, 12th March, 1770.
Messieurs Edes & Gill,
Permit me thro’ the Channel of your Paper, to return my Thanks in the most Publick Manner to the Inhabitants of this Town—who throwing aside all Party and Prejudice, have with the utmost Humanity and Freedom stept forth Advocates for Truth, in Defence of my injured Innocence, in the late unhappy Affair that happened on Monday Night last: And to assure them, that I shall ever have the highest Sense of the Justice they have done me, which will be ever gratefully remembered, by
Their much obliged and most obedient humble Servant,
Thomas Preston.
Let us now examine the picture which Paul Revere prepared to be presented, with the official pamphlet, to the view of the British public in order to affect its opinion of the action of the troops. The engraving is 8½ by 9¾ inches in size, and is colored by hand in red, blue, green, and brown. In the background is the Boston town hall, now known as the “Old State House,” with its graceful clock-tower rising into a pale blue sky. At the upper left hand is a chubby, cheerful-looking crescent moon. The public square is framed on both sides by its enclosing buildings, over the portal of one of which, at the right, is the inscription “G R (for Georgius Rex) Custom House.” Higher still, along the entire façade of the building stretches the imaginary and ironical designation “Butcher’s Hall.”
In the foreground of the picture, and in front of the Custom House stands in a menacing attitude the file of soldiers, very red of coats and black of boots. Each has his gun outstretched with its bayonet pointing to the crowd, while the clouds of smoke that roll around and behind the figures testify that the guns have just been discharged among the
unhappy bystanders. At the extreme right of the line of soldiers stands Captain Preston with uplifted, menacing sword. Opposite the firing squad is the crowd of citizens, some of whom have fallen to the ground, or are being supported in the arms of their comrades. From the breasts and temples of the wounded streams of blood pour forth and dye the pavement roundabout. The crowd is in great agitation. One venturesome townsman lifts his hand as though he would push back an advancing bayonet. Another clasps his hands in horror to his breast. Some of the bystanders have turned as if to flee, but most of them are engaged in succoring their wounded comrades. One man in brown coat and green vest is being tenderly lifted by two friends; his head falls helplessly to one side while a bright red jet of blood pours from his breast over the green waistcoat. One of the victims lies on his back, his head drawn up as if he were in agony, one hand clasps his breast, from a wound in which a crimson stream flows forth. The boy victim lies motionless on the ground, a pool of blood from his forehead dyeing the pavement near his head. In front of this whole group stands a composed, indifferent-looking dog, quite unmoved by the tragic scene behind him. The quaint costumes and stiff attitudes of the actors in the picture, the shapeless, ill-drawn legs of the soldiers, and the stolid, expressionless faces of the participants indicate that the engraver was a tyro in his art. To the observer, however, these defects in some measure enhance the interest of the picture and give it the charm peculiar to primitive productions.
PAUL REVERE PRINT OF THE BOSTON MASSACRE
The inscriptions above and below the print add to its intrinsic interest. The passionate appeal for sympathy for the slain made by these inscriptions indicates the depths of feeling aroused by the massacre. Across the top is printed, “The Bloody Massacre perpetrated in King Street Boston on March 5th 1770 by a party of the 29th Regt.” Underneath the picture is the following remarkable effusion, probably
from the pen of Paul Revere himself, who frequently indulged in such attempts at literary effort:
Unhappy Boston! See thy Sons deplore.
Thy hallow’d Walks besmear’d with guiltless Gore.
While faithless P——n [Preston] and his savage Bands,
With murd’rous Rancour stretch their bloody Hands;
Like fierce Barbarians grinning o’er their Prey,
Approve the Carnage, and enjoy the Day.
If scalding drops from Rage from Anguish Wrung
If speechless Sorrows lab’ring for a Tongue,
Or if a weeping World can aught appease
The plaintive Ghosts of Victims such as these;
The Patriot’s copious Tears for each are shed,
A glorious Tribute which embalms the Dead.
But know Fate summons to that awful Goal
Where Justice strips the Murd’rer of his Soul;
Should venal C——ts the scandal of the Land,
Snatch the relentless Villain from her Hand,
Keen Execrations on this Plate inscrib’d,
Shall reach a Judge who never can be brib’d.
The unhappy Sufferers were Messs Saml Gray, Saml Maverick, Jams Caldwell, Crispus Attucks & Patk Carr killed. Six wounded; two of them (Christr Monk & John Clark) Mortally.
Two hundred copies of the pamphlet were issued in the first edition, and for his work upon the plate the Revere papers tell us that the engraver received five pounds. A number of variants of the original plate appeared within a few months of its production. One was reduced in size to accompany an octavo edition of the pamphlet. This latter engraving was 4½ by 6⅝ inches. It had no inscription at the top but underneath bore the following words: “The Massacre perpetrated in King Street on March 5th 1770, in which Messrs Saml Gray, Saml Maverick, James Caldwell, Crispus Attucks Patrick Carr were Killed, six others Wounded two of them Mortally.” The different proportions of this plate give to the picture more sky and foreground than the one we have described above. The second
edition of the pamphlet with the smaller engraving was reprinted without change in London by E. & C. Dilly and J. Almon in the same year that the Short Narrative appeared in Boston.
Two other London editions of the pamphlet were issued the same year by the publishing firm of W. Bingley in Newgate Street. One of these has for its frontispiece an engraving 8½ by 12 inches in size, with the following inscription across the top: “The Fruits of Arbitrary Power; or the Bloody Massacre, Perpetrated in King Street, Boston by a Party of the XXIX Regt.” Underneath is printed Revere’s original poem, without the accompanying names of the victims. On the left of the poem the following verse is surmounted by a skull and crossbones within a wreath: “How long shall they utter and speak hard things? And all the workers of iniquity boast themselves? They break in pieces thy people, O Lord, and afflict thine heritage. Ps. XCIV, 4, 5.” On the right of the poem appears the design of a liberty cap in clouds from which issue forks of lightning and two broken swords. Underneath is printed, “They slay the widow and the stranger, and murder the fatherless. Yet they say, The Lord shall not see, neither shall the God of Jacob regard it. Ps. XCIV, 6, 7.” Some of these prints have been found with only the two devices and without the scriptural quotations.
Still one more print appeared in London in 1770 which shows marked variations from all those previously described. These were all variants of Revere’s original plate, and differ only in size, proportions, and inscriptions. The print which we now describe is so different in composition and so much better in execution that it would seem to be the work of another artist than Revere. Not only are the proportions of the picture changed, but the handling of the perspective is much better, the drawing of the figures, and the expression of the faces show the handiwork of a genuine artist. The
arrangement of the figures is the same, but the soldiers’ legs become quite possible members of their bodies, able to bear a man’s weight. The fallen figures lie in better and easier attitudes. The grouping of the crowd is less confused, and in the background appear the heads of two women wearing bonnets, that are not seen in the original Revere prints. Moreover, there is no dog in the foreground and no moon in the sky of this latter print. The question arises whether some other artist adapted Revere’s composition, materially improving it in so doing, or whether Revere himself secured his suggestions for his work from the author of this latter print. This is answered by a letter found some years since among the Pelham-Copley papers in the British Public Record Office and printed by the Massachusetts Historical Society in one of its recent volumes of Collections.
Henry Pelham was a young half brother of the famous colonial artist Copley, and the original of the latter’s lovely picture, “The Boy with a Squirrel.” Young Pelham lived in a family of artists and himself early displayed considerable talent. He learned engraving from his father Peter Pelham, one of Boston’s earliest engravers. The following letter was written by the younger Pelham to Paul Revere:
Thursday Morng. Boston, March 29, 1770.
Sir,
When I heard that you was cutting a plate of the late Murder. I thought it impossible, as I knew you was not capable of doing it unless you coppied it from mine and as I thought I had entrusted it in the hands of a person who had more regard to the dictates of Honour and Justice than to take the undue advantage you have done of the confidence and Trust I reposed in you. But I find I was mistaken, and after being at the great Trouble and Expence of making a design paying for paper, printing &c, find myself in the most ungenerous Manner deprived, not only of any proposed Advantage, but even of the expence I have been at, as truly as if you had plundered me on the highway. It you are insensible of the Dishonour you have brought on yourself by this Act, the World will
not be so. However, I leave you to reflect upon and consider of one of the most dishonorable Actions you could well be guilty of.
H. Pelham.
In the absence of any defense by Paul Revere, and in the presence of the better engraving made along the lines and with the same general arrangement as that claimed by Revere, it would seem that we must convict the latter of the plagiarism with which Pelham charged him. Some of the latter’s prints were issued, since among his papers is the charge in March, 1770, of three pounds nine shillings by one Daniel Rea “To printing 575 of your Prints @ 12| Pr. Hund.” Pelham was a much abler artist than Revere; moreover, it should be noted that the latter prints upon his engraving only the words, “engraved, printed, and sold by Paul Revere,” all of which might have been the literal truth, had he utilized the design of the younger artist. None the less his appropriation without compensation of his young neighbor’s design is much to his discredit, and detracts from the interest and enjoyment with which we examine this most famous and interesting of Paul Revere’s engravings.
The vogue for this picture of the massacre has been very great from the time of its first printing until the present. We have seen how many editions appeared in 1770. These spread rapidly throughout all the English colonies in America. So popular did the prints become that as early as 1785 a new edition became necessary, while the original prints were much in demand, and formed part of early collections of Americana. Originals of 1770 are now so highly prized that single copies sell for anywhere from $750 to $1,000. In 1832 an excellent reproduction was issued, which has in its turn become rare enough to command $50 upon the market.
How much the publication of the original prints had to do with the profound sensation that the “Boston Massacre” awakened everywhere among the American colonies we have no means of judging. Certainly the representation was calculated
to arouse intense resentment against the British soldiery, and this feeling may have contributed to the alacrity with which the colonists took up arms in defense of their liberty. From a trivial encounter between imperial troops and the Boston mob, the incident arose to a position of international importance. Its pictorial presentation, therefore, has become a part of our national history.