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.
[Illustration: 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 29{th}
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 5{th} 1770, in which Mess{rs} 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.