On the fifth of March, 1851, a petition was presented to the
Massachusetts Legislature, asking an appropriation of $1,500 for
erecting a monument to the memory of Crispus Attucks, the first martyr
in the Boston Massacre of March 5th, 1770. The matter was referred
to the Committee on Military Affairs, who granted a hearing of the
petitioners, in whose behalf appeared Wendell Phillips, Esq., and Wm.
C. Nell, but finally submitted an adverse report, on the ground that
a boy, Christopher Snyder, was previously killed. Admitting this fact
(which was the result of a very different sense from that in which
Attucks fell), does not offset the claims of Attucks, and those who
made the fifth of March famous in our annals--the day which history
selects as the dawn of the American Revolution.
Botta's History and Hewe's Reminiscences (the tea party survivor)
establishes the fact that the colored man, Attucks, was of and with the
people, and was never regarded otherwise. Botta, in speaking of the
scenes of the 5th of March, says "The people were greatly exasperated.
The multitude armed with clubs, ran towards King Street, crying,
'Let us drive out these ribalds; they have no business here!" The
rioters rushed furiously towards the Custom House; they approached
the sentinel, crying, 'Kill him, kill him!' They assaulted him with
snowballs, pieces of ice, and whatever they could lay their hands
upon." The guard was then called, and, in marching to the Custom House,
"they encountered," continues Botta, "a band of the populace, led by a
mulatto named Attucks, who brandished their clubs, and peltered them
with snowballs. The maledictions, the execrations of the multitude
were horrible. In the midst of a torrent of invectives from every
quarter, the military were challenged to fire. The populace advanced
to the points of their bayonets. The soldiers appeared like statues;
the cries, the howlings, the menaces, the violent din of bells still
sounding the alarm, increased the confusion and the horrors of these
moments; at length the mulatto and twelve of his companions, pressing
forward, environed the soldiers, and striking their muskets with their
clubs cried to the multitude: 'Be not afraid, they dare not fire; why
do they hesitate, why do you not kill them, why not crush them at
once!' The mulatto lifted his arm against Captain Preston, and having
turned one of the muskets, he seized the bayonet with his left hand, as
if he intended to execute his threat. At this moment, confused cries
were heard: 'The wretches dare not fire!' Firing succeeds, Attucks is
slain. The other discharges follow. Three were killed, five severely
wounded, and several others slightly."
Attucks was killed by Montgomery, one of Captain Preston's soldiers. He
had been foremost in resisting and was first slain; as proof of front
and close engagement, received two balls, one in each breast.
John Adams, counsel for the soldiers, admitted that Attucks appeared
to have undertaken to be the Hero of the night, and to lead the army
with banners. He and Caldwell, not being residents of Boston, were both
buried from Faneuil Hall. The citizens generally participated in the
funeral solemnities.
The Boston Transcript, of March, 1851, published an anonymous
correspondence disparaging the whole affair; denouncing Crispus Attucks
as a very firebrand of disorder and sedition, the most conspicuous,
inflammatory, and uproarious of the misguided populace, and who, if
he had not fallen a martyr, would richly have reserved hanging as an
incendiary. If the leader, Attucks, deserved the epithets above applied
is it not a legitimate inference that the citizens who followed on are
included, and hence, should swing in his company on the gallows? If the
leader and his patriot band were misguided, the distinguished orators
who, in after days, commemorated the fifth day of March, must, indeed,
have been misguided, and with them the masses who were inspired by
their eloquence; for John Hancock, in 1774, invokes the injured shades
of Maverick, Gray, Caldwell, Attucks, Carr.
And Judge Dawes, in 1775, thus alludes to the band of misguided
incendiaries. "The provocation of that night must be numbered among the
master springs which gave the first motion to a vast machinery, a noble
and comprehensive system of national independence."
Ramsay's History of the American Revolution, Vol. I., p. 22, adds,
"The anniversary of the 5th of March was observed with great solemnity;
eloquent orators were successively employed to preserve the remembrance
of it fresh in the mind. On these occasions the blessings of
liberty--the horrors of Slavery, and the danger of a standing army were
presented to the public view. These annual orations administered fuel
to the fire of liberty, and kept it burning with an irresistible flame."
The 5th of March continued to be celebrated for the above reasons,
until the Declaration of American Independence was substituted in its
place, and its orators were expected to consider the feelings, manners,
and principles of the former as giving birth to the latter.
In judging, then, of the merits of those who launched the American
Revolution, we would not take counsel from the Tories of that or the
present day, but rather heed the approving eulogy of Lovell, Hancock
and Warren.
Welcome, then, be every taunt that such correspondents have flung at
Attucks and his company, as the best evidence of their merits and
strongest claims on our gratitude. Envy and the foe do not labor to
abuse any but prominent champions of a cause.
The rejection of this petition was to be expected, if we accept the
axiom that a Colored man never gets Justice done him in the United
States, except by mistake. The petitioners only asked for that Justice,
and that the name of Crispus Attucks be surrounded with the same
emblems constantly appropriated by a grateful country to other gallant
Americans.
And yet let it be recorded that the same session of the Legislature
which had refused the Attucks monument, granted one to Isaac Davis,
of Concord,--both were promoters of the American Revolution; but one
was white, the other black--and this fact is the only solution to the
problem why Justice is not meted out.[1]
[1] A monument to Crispus Attucks has been erected on Boston Commons
since the above was written.--H. T. K.
Extract from the Speech of Hon. Anson Burlingame, in Faneuil Hall,
October 13, 1852, when alluding to the volunteer participation of
Boston officials in returning Thomas Sims to bondage, in April, 1851.
"The conquering of New England prejudices in favor of liberty, 'does
not pay.' It 'does not pay,' I submit, to put our fellow citizens
under practical martial law; to beat the drum in our streets; to
clothe our temples of justice in chains, and to creep along by the
light of the morning star, over the ground wet with the blood of
Crispus Attucks, the noble Colored man, who fell in King Street,
before the muskets of tyranny, away in the dawn of our Revolution;
creep by Faneuil Hall, silent and dark; by the Green Dragon, where
that noble mechanic, Paul Revere, once mustered the sons of liberty;
within sight of Prospect Hill, where we first unfurled the glorious
banner; creep along with funeral pace, bearing a brother, a man made
in the image of his God, not to the grave--oh, that were merciful, for
in the grave there is no work and no device, and the voice of a master
never comes--but back to the degradation of a Slavery which kills out
of a living body an immortal soul. (Great sensation.) Oh! where is the
man now who took part in that mournful transaction, who would wish,
looking back upon it, to avow it."
During the Revolutionary War, public opinion was so strongly in favor
of the abolition of slavery, that, in some of the country towns,
votes were passed in town meetings that they would have no slaves
among them; and that they would not exact, of masters, any bonds for
the maintenance of liberated blacks, should they become incapable
of supporting themselves. A liberty-loving antiquarian copied the
following from Suffolk Probate Record, and published it in the
Liberator of February, 1847:
"Know all men by these presents, that I, Jonathan Jackson, of
Newburyport, in the county of Essex, gentleman, in consideration of
the impropriety I feel, and have felt in beholding any person in
constant bondage--more especially at the time when my country is so
warmly contending for the liberty every man ought to enjoy--and having
sometime since promised my Negro man, Pomp, that I would give him
his freedom--and in further consideration of five shillings, paid me
by said Pomp, I do hereby liberate, manumit, and set him free; and I
do hereby remise and release unto said Pomp, all demands of whatever
nature I have against said Pomp.
"In witness whereof, I hereunto set my hand and seal, this nineteenth
June, 1776.
"JONATHAN JACKSON. (Seal).
"Witness, Mary Coburn, Wm. Noyes."
It only remains to say a word respecting the two parties of the
foregoing indenture.
Jonathan Jackson, of Newburyport, we well remember to have heard spoken
of, in our boyish days, by honored lips, as a most upright and thorough
gentleman of the old school, possessing talents and character of the
first standing. He was the first Collector of the Port of Boston, under
Washington's administration and was Treasurer of the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts for many years, and died in 1810. A tribute to his
memory and his worth, said to be from the pen of the late John Lowell,
appeared in the Columbian Sentinel, March 10, 1810. His immediate
descendants have long resided in this city, are extensively known, and
as widely and justly honored.
Pomp took the name of his late master, upon his emancipation, and
soon after enlisted in the army, as Pomp Jackson, served through the
whole war of the revolution and obtained an honorable discharge at its
termination. He afterwards settled in Andover, near a pond, still known
as "Pomp's Pond," where some of his descendants yet live. In this case
of emancipation, it appears, instead of "cutting his master's throat,"
he only slashed the throats of his country's enemies.
The late Governor Eustis, of Massachusetts, the pride and boast of
the democracy of the East, himself an active participant in the War,
and therefore a most competent witness, states that the Freed Colored
Soldiers entered the ranks with the whites. The time of those who
were Slaves was purchased of their masters, and they were induced to
enter the service in consequence of a law of Congress, by which, on
condition of their serving in the ranks during the War, they were made
Freemen. The hope of Liberty inspired them with the courage to oppose
their breasts to the Hessian bayonet at Red Bank, and enabled them to
endure with fortitude the cold and famine of Valley Forge.
Seymour Burr was a Slave in Connecticut, to a brother of Col. Aaron
Burr, from whom he derived his name. Though treated with much favor by
his master, his heart yearned for liberty, and he seized an occasion to
induce several of his fellow servants to escape in a boat, intending to
join the British, that they might become Freemen; but being pursued by
their owners, armed with implements of death, they were compelled to
surrender.
Burr's master, contrary to his expectation, did not inflict corporal
punishment, but reminded him of the kindness with which he had been
treated, and asked what inducement he could have in leaving him. Burr
replied that he wanted his liberty. His owner finally proposed, that
if he would give him the bounty money he might join the American army,
and at the end of the war be his own man. Burr, willing to make any
sacrifice for his liberty, consented, and served faithfully during
the campaign, attached to the Seventh Regiment, commanded by Colonel,
afterwards Governor Brooks, of Melford. He was present at the siege of
Fort Catskill, and endured much suffering from starvation and cold.
After some skirmishing the army was relieved by the arrival of Gen.
Washington, who, as witnessed by him, shed tears of joy on finding them
unexpectedly safe.
Burr married one of the Punkapog tribe of Indians, and settled in
Canton, Mass., where his widow now, aged one hundred and one years,
draws his pension.
Primus Hall, a native Bostonian, and long known to the citizens as a
soap-boiler, served in the revolutionary war, and used to entertain
the social circle with various anecdotes of military experience; among
them an instance, where being himself in possession of a blanket, at a
time when such a luxury had become scarce, Gen. Washington entered the
tent, having appropriated his own bedding for the worn-out soldiers,
Hall immediately tendered his blanket for the General, who replied,
he preferred sharing his privations with his fellow soldiers, and
accordingly Gen. Washington and Primus Hall reposed for the night
together.
Mr. Hall was among those Colored citizens who, in the war of 1812,
repaired to Castle Island, in Boston harbor, to assist in building
fortifications. (See Appendix.)
Joshua B. Smith narrated to me that he was present at a company of
distinguished Massachusetts men, when the conversation turned upon
the exploits of Revolutionary times; and that the late Judge Story
related the instance of a Colored Artillerist, who, while having charge
of a cannon with a white fellow soldier, was wounded in one arm. He
immediately turned to his comrade and proposed changing his position,
exclaiming that he had yet one arm left with which he could render
some service to his country. The change proved fatal to the heroic
soldier, for another shot from the enemy killed him on the spot. Judge
Story furnished other incidents of the bravery and devotion of Colored
Soldiers, adding, that he had often thought them and their descendants
too much neglected, considering the part they had sustained in the
Wars; and he regretted that he did not, in early life, gather the facts
into a shape for general information.
At the close of the Revolutionary War, John Hancock presented the
Colored Soldiers, called the "Bucks of America," an appropriate banner
(bearing his initials) as a tribute to their courage and devotion
in the cause of American Liberty, through a protracted and bloody
struggle. This banner is now in the possession of Mrs. Kay, whose
father was a member of the company.
When a boy, living in West Boston, I was familiar with the presence of
"Big Dick," and of hearing the following history confirmed. It is not
wholly out of place in this collection.
Big Dick--Richard Seavers, whose death in this city we lately
mentioned, was a man of mighty mould. A short time previous to his
death, he measured six feet five inches in height, and attracted much
attention when seen in the street. He was born in Salem or vicinity
and when about sixteen years old, went to England, where he entered
the British navy. When the war of 1812 broke out, he would not fight
against his country, gave himself up as an American citizen, and was
made a prisoner of war.
A Surgeon on board of an American privateer, who experienced the tender
mercies of the British Government in Darton prison, during the War of
1812, makes honorable mention of King Dick, as he was there called.
"There are about four hundred and fifty negroes in prison No. 4, and
this assemblage of blacks affords many curious anecdotes, and much
matter for speculation. These blacks have a ruler among them whom
they call King Dick. He is by far the largest, and I suspect, the
strongest man in the prison. He is six feet five inches in height, and
proportionably large. This black Hercules commands respect, and his
subjects tremble in his presence. He goes the rounds every day, and
visits every berth to see if they are all kept clean. When he goes the
rounds, he puts on a large bearskin cap, and carries in his hand a
huge club. If any of his men are dirty, drunken or grossly negligent,
he threatens them with a beating; and if they are saucy, they are sure
to receive one. They have several times conspired against him, and
attempted to dethrone him, but he has always conquered the rebels. One
night several attacked him while asleep in his hammock, he sprang up
and seized the smallest of them by his feet, and thumped another with
him. The poor negro who had thus been made a beetle of, was carried
next day to the hospital, sadly bruised, and provokingly laughed at.
This ruler of the blacks, this King Richard IV, is a man of good
understanding, and he exercises it to a good purpose. If any one of his
color cheats, defrauds, or steals from his comrades, he is sure to be
punished for it."--Boston Patriot.