THE POWDER ALARM AND THE WINTER OF 1774-1775
Gage had by this time given up hope of winning to his side the leaders
of the Whigs. If he still retained a doubt of the temper of the people,
the events of the first and second of September would have made him
certain. Marching in companies, they converged upon Cambridge, whence
the Lieutenant-Governor, Andrew Oliver, hastily departed to Boston, to
implore Gage to send out no troops, lest not a man of them should return
alive. On his way in, Oliver passed Warren hastening out. But his
influence was not needed. The militia companies had already laid aside
their weapons and were parading peacefully upon Cambridge common. There
they were addressed by two of the Mandamus Council, who confirmed their
resignations and promised in no way to be concerned in the acts of
Gage's government. Then the high-sheriff came under the attention of the
meeting, and likewise promised to do nothing under the new laws.
Hallowell, the Commissioner of Customs, escaped more serious handling.
Passing by the common and its assemblage of Whigs, he "spoke somewhat
contemptuously of them." They promptly sent some mounted men after his
chaise. On seeing them coming he stopped his chaise, unhitched his horse
and mounted, and ran his pursuers a close race to Boston Neck, where he
found safety with the guard.
Oliver, returning to Cambridge with the governor's promise to send out
no troops, was waited upon by the great assemblage. The Whigs demanded
his resignation as a councillor. This, after demurring, Oliver gave, and
offered to resign also from the lieutenant-governorship. But this the
company allowed him to keep. Andrews records, "It is worthy remark that
Judge Lee remarked to 'em, after he had made his resignation, that he
never saw so large a number of people together and preserve so peaceable
order before in his life."
This orderly meeting, proceeding with parliamentary forms, passed a
resolve that Gage was within his legal rights in removing the powder
from the store-house. They then "voted unanimously their abhorrence of
mobs and riots,"[46] and with these lessons given for any one to learn,
they peaceably turned toward their homes. On their way they turned back
those who, from further away, were eagerly coming to avenge the rumored
death of their countrymen and the bombardment of the town. Putnam, after
disbanding his Connecticut company, wrote to urge the men of
Massachusetts to take better care of the remainder of their powder.
The "Powder Alarm" stirred the country everywhere. At Philadelphia its
exaggerated reports greatly disturbed the Congress, but the response was
significant. "When the horrid news was brought here of the bombardment
of Boston," wrote John Adams, "which made us completely miserable for
two days, we saw proofs both of the sympathy and the resolution of the
continent. War! war! war! was the cry, and it was pronounced in a tone
which would have done honor to the oratory of a Briton or a Roman. If it
had proved true, you would have heard the thunder of an American
Congress."[47]
Gage now, for the first time, seems to have had a glimmer of an idea of
the formidable forces that were against him. He began to consider the
military situation, and the defence of the town against another such
rising. If on the next occasion the provincials should attempt to pursue
a commissioner not merely to the Neck, but past it, there must be means
of stopping them. Gage gave orders to fortify the Neck, which was in
those days the single land approach to Boston.
[Illustration: THE INVESTMENT OF BOSTON]
The modern city in no way resembles the old town. Now, between South
Boston and Cambridge, a score of highways lead into the city. Bridges
and even tunnels give direct communication from South Boston, Cambridge,
Charlestown, Chelsea, and East Boston. But in 1774 South Boston was a
mudflat; the Back Bay--at least at high water--was what its name
implies; Chelsea was Winnisimit, with but half a dozen houses; and East
Boston was an island, having but two houses on it. Now the flats have
been filled up, the mainland brought closer, and the approaches bridged.
In Governor Gage's day Boston was still a peninsula, roughly
pear-shaped, and connected with the mainland by a strip of land which
was, at high tide, scarcely a hundred yards wide.
Batteries commanding the road which crossed this isthmus seemed, at the
time, quite sufficient to defend the town. It was not till later that
Gage began to consider the heights of Dorchester and Charlestown, which,
to the south and north, threatened Boston. Now he set to work upon an
earthwork at the Neck, brought cannon there, and began to build
block-houses. It was reported that he was to cut a ditch across the
Neck, and confine traffic to a narrow bridge; but at the objection of
the selectmen such an idea, if he had considered it, was given up.
Protest against the new earthworks was also lodged. The selectmen of the
town, and a committee from the convention for Suffolk County which then
happened to sit, came to Gage with remonstrances. Warren, from the
convention, twice urged his demands. "Good God, gentlemen," responded
the harried governor, "make yourselves easy, and I will be so."[48]
There was no more ease of mind for Governor Gage. Within the limits of
Boston and Charlestown were several cannon belonging to the militia
organizations of the town. When the general tried to secure the
Charlestown guns from secretion by the provincials, they disappeared.
"Ever since," wrote Andrews a fortnight later, "the General has ordered
a double guard to y^e new and old gun houses, where y^e brass field
pieces belonging to our militia are lodged: notwithstanding which ...
We'n'sday evening, or rather night, our people took these from the Old
house (by opening the side of the house) and carried away through Frank
Johonnot's Garden. Upon which he gave it in orders the next day to the
officer on guard to remove those from the New house (which stands
directly opposite the encampment of the 4th Regiment and in the middle
of the street near the large Elm tree), sometime the next night into the
camp; and to place a guard at each end, or rather at both doors, till
then. At the fixed hour the Officer went with a number of Mattrosses to
execute his orders, but behold, the guns were gone!" Lest the guns in
the North Battery should similarly be spirited away, the bewildered
general ordered them to be spiked.
His state of mind was not improved when he received, as he did early in
September, the resolutions passed by the Suffolk convention. The Suffolk
Resolves, as they are called, covered the whole of the existing
situation. Repudiating the king's claim to unconditional obedience,
they declared the Regulating Act unconstitutional, and called on all
officers under it to resign their places. They advised that all taxes
should be withheld from the king's treasury, and suggested a provincial
congress to deal with the affairs of Massachusetts. The resolves further
declared that the Americans had no intention of aggression, advised
peaceful measures, but threatened to seize all crown officers if any
political arrest were made. Looking forward to the eventual rupture, the
resolves advised the towns to choose their military officers with great
care, and finally made provision to spread alarm or summon assistance at
a moment's notice.
Affairs had now reached a new phase. The barrier which Gage had erected
at the Neck had effectually cut him off from the province which he had
been sent to govern. From that time on he had no authority beyond the
range of his batteries.
Boston was his, to be sure. In spite of alarms (for once the field day
of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company, the pride of the
province, aroused the fleet; and once the little navy was awake all
night against an attack that never came), in spite of such alarms, no
attempt was made upon his army or his ships. The town was quiet, and
Tory ladies and gentlemen were at last at ease. On the Mall they might
daily watch the parade of the troops, speak their minds about the
faction, and agree upon the cowardice of the provincials. Yet the Whigs
of Boston made no submission. They were, as Warren wrote of them,
"silent and inflexible." At the same time they had everything at stake.
Their leaders Hancock and Warren still lived openly among them, in the
face of the threat of arrest. The artisans, too, at this period put
behind them a great temptation. For many months they had been idle; now
within a few weeks the governor had commenced building barracks for the
troops, upon which Boston workmen were engaged. For the first time since
the Port Bill went into effect they were earning a comfortable living.
But now they refused to work longer for the king. In vain Gage appealed
to the selectmen and to Hancock. One and all the artisans withdrew, to
subsist, as before, upon the donations that still continued to come in
from the other towns and colonies.
Outside the barrier at the Neck was an unparalleled state of affairs. In
Massachusetts there was no legal government. The charter had been
abrogated, but the new system had been rejected by the people. There
were no judges and no courts, no sheriffs; there was no treasury, and no
machinery of government whatever. Consequently there was a striking
opportunity for lawlessness. Yet the quiet in the province was
remarkable. In the absence of executive and judicial officers, the
selectmen of the towns and the Committees of Correspondence took upon
themselves the work that was to be done, and did it quietly and well.
There was no thievery, no murder, no repudiation of debts. So far as
their ordinary life was concerned, the people simply lived on in their
ancient way.
There was, nevertheless, plenty of lawlessness of the new kind. Just as
soon as the people could catch the newly appointed officials, they
forced them to resign; and whenever the courts attempted to sit they
were made to adjourn. There continued the little migration of Tories
toward Boston, always in the expectation that the sojourn was to be
brief, and that presently Gage would have the situation in hand. Most of
the refugees, however, never saw their homes again. As for Gage, he was
suspected of detaining the remaining councillors in Boston, lest he
should not have any left to him. Indeed, his position in Salem had
already become so undignified and uncomfortable that early in September,
with the Commissioners of Customs and all other officials, he returned
to Boston. There he also withdrew the two regiments with which he had
ineffectually endeavored to sustain his prestige in Salem. Yet he had
not been long in Boston before he was forced to watch the preparations
for a new act of defiance.
Already, unfortunately for him, he had convened the Assembly to meet at
Salem. Now that he was in Boston he desired the legislators to meet
there also; yet he could not adjourn them until they met. This he
planned to do. The delegates, however, knew that if they came to Boston
they must take their oaths of office before the Mandamus Council. To
this the representatives would never submit, and accordingly planned
another move. Boston carried out its part under the eye of the governor.
The town elected its representatives, chief among whom were Hancock,
Warren, and the absent Samuel Adams. The meeting then deliberately,
reminding the delegates that they could not conscientiously discharge
their duty under the conditions which the governor would impose,
"empowered and instructed" them to join with the delegates from other
towns in a general provincial congress, to act upon public matters in
such a manner as should appear "most conducive to the true interest of
this town and province, and most likely to preserve the liberties of all
America."
Thus the town of Boston, inflexible but no longer silent, calmly ignored
the governor and his troops. A strong governor would have imprisoned the
delegates and dissolved the meeting; Gage allowed it to proceed for the
rest of the day with illegal business, and did nothing.
It was at this time that the conduct of affairs fell into the hands of
Warren. Adams was away at Philadelphia, and Hancock, though older than
Warren and an excellent figurehead, had neither Warren's wisdom nor his
fiery energy. It was Warren who corresponded with the Congress at
Philadelphia and with the Committees of Correspondence of the
Massachusetts towns, and it was to him that the province naturally
turned. When we remember him as the hero of Bunker Hill, it is well also
to recall him as the tried servant and the excellent adviser of the
public.
One act of his at this point is worth remembering. As we have seen,
Episcopalians were not in good odor with the Massachusetts Whigs; the
colony had been founded as an asylum from "prelacy," and still, after
nearly two hundred and fifty years, the few members of the English
church were chiefly supporters of the crown. Warren now took occasion to
remind his brethren that to the south conditions were different, and
that "the gentlemen of the Established Church of England are men of the
most just and liberal sentiments." In a printed letter he requested fair
treatment of all Episcopalians, and ended by quoting from a letter of
Samuel Adams an account of the Episcopal chaplain of the Philadelphia
Congress, whose first prayer moved many of the members to tears.
Although this chaplain later turned his coat, the reminder was timely
and valuable, for many southern Whigs, among them Washington himself,
were members of the Established Church.
As to the proposed provincial congress, Gage now hastened to forestall
the consequences of his own action. He declared the convening of the
Assembly inexpedient, and removed the obligation to attend. Nevertheless
ninety of the delegates came together, waited a day for the governor,
then formed themselves into a provincial congress, and adjourned. On the
11th of October they met again at Concord, this time with nearly two
hundred more members, and in the old meeting-house began their sessions
with Hancock as their president, but with Warren as the most influential
member of their body.
His influence was thrown on the side of moderation. There were plenty in
the province ready to urge violence. They argued that the old charter
should be resumed; and as if the present acts were not sufficiently
revolutionary, were ready to proceed to violent measures. But the time
had not yet come. Massachusetts sentiment, responding to persecution,
was far in advance of the feelings of the rest of the country. No action
could safely be taken until the other colonies were ready to support
New England. In constant touch with Samuel Adams--for Paul Revere and
other trusted couriers were always on the road with letters--Warren was
able to remind his colleagues of the need of patience, and to cool their
ardor by his warnings that in open rebellion they would stand alone. His
services, and those of the steadfast band who supported him, were
invaluable. In these days he rose to the full stature of political
leadership, in guiding the actions of the provincial congress and in
constraining it to patience.
And yet its acts were revolutionary enough. It must be remembered that
until this time the Whigs of Massachusetts had remained within their
constitutional rights. Apart from the Tea-Party, no word or act of town
meeting or of legislature, or even of any prominent citizen, needed for
justification anything more than the ancient charter rights of the
province. But now the provincial congress went beyond anything that had
ever been done before. It appointed a Committee of Safety, which should
prepare for equipping and raising an army. It appointed a Committee of
Supplies, which presently gathered together a few hundred spades and
pickaxes, some muskets, a thousand wooden mess-bowls, four thousand
flints, and a small supply of peas and flour--a pitiful attempt to
compete with the vast resources of Great Britain. More than this, it
appointed a Receiver-General, to keep the public money of the province.
It might be argued that all these acts were still within the charter
rights, yet the Whig position was no longer so strong as on the
occasions when it had caused the crown lawyers to doubt. With a
treasurer engaged in receiving the taxes which the towns willingly paid
him, and with generals appointed to command an army, it began to look as
if Massachusetts were in rebellion.
Gage was perplexed. His province was out of his control, and now came
the news that the Continental Congress, before adjourning, had voted
approval of the course of Massachusetts. In fact, Congress had voted
its support. "Resolved, that this congress approve of the opposition
made by the inhabitants of the Massachusetts Bay to the execution of the
late acts of Parliament; and, if the same shall be attempted to be
carried into execution by force, in such case all America ought to
support them in their opposition." With such words in his mind, Gage had
to listen to the ringing of the church bells in welcome to Samuel Adams
as he returned from Philadelphia. Adams and Cushing, two of the Boston
delegates, now took their seats in the provincial congress, and the
remaining two delegates were invited to attend. The public acts of the
congress continued bold and uncompromising, and every little while there
came to the harried governor some public letter of remonstrance, or some
delegation from an aggrieved town or county convention, to object, to
expostulate, or to demand. Never were people better trained to politics
than the Americans at this moment. Gage was quite unfitted to cope with
them. Hutchinson would have been more vigorous, and even Bernard more
clever. The king fitly characterized his governor as "the mild general."
Gage, in his perplexity, now made trouble by suggesting the recruiting
of Indians against the day of rebellion, and called for more troops from
England. The disgusted king sought to replace him as commander-in-chief
by the one English soldier whom the Americans held in respect, in fact,
as the hero of the French war, almost in reverence. But Sir Jeffrey
Amherst bluntly told the king that he would not serve against the
Americans, "to whom he had been so much obliged." The king was forced to
content himself by sending to Gage's support three major-generals, as if
in the hope that their divided counsels would bring about a uniform
policy.
Of these three men America was to hear a good deal in the next seven
years. The least important of them was Sir Henry Clinton, of respectable
military skill. More striking in character was Sir John Burgoyne, poet,
dramatist, parliamentarian, upon whom America will ever look with the
indulgence which the victor feels for one who is signally and completely
defeated. "General Big-talk," the Yankee balladist called him when once
the siege was in progress. It is true that Burgoyne had an easy flow of
words, and we shall before long find him doing his share to make Gage
ridiculous. But Burgoyne had his manly parts, and though he lacked
greatness, he commands at times our sympathy and our respect. He made a
romantic marriage, which proved a happy one; and his real claim to
literary distinction lies in the letter in which, on his departure for
America, he commended his wife to the care of the king. Burgoyne, in a
still brutal age, was a humanitarian, and was one of the first, not only
to oppose flogging in the army, but also to advocate friendly personal
relations between officers and men. America seldom took Burgoyne
seriously, but he is to us of to-day a pleasing and picturesque
character.
The third of the new generals was Sir William Howe, whose chief
misfortune was that fate had set him to oppose Washington. He came of a
family well known in American annals, for one brother was now an admiral
popular in the colonies, and another was still mourned in America for
his brilliant talents and magnetic personality. William Howe had gained
his seat in Parliament by appeals to the memory of that brother, and by
promises to take no active military command against America. But on
being offered the post under Gage, Howe asked if this were a request or
an order. The adroit king returned the proper answer, and Howe,
protesting that no other course was open to him, prepared to sail for
Boston.
Meanwhile Gage, alone, made various futile moves, at which the province
looked with patience. From time to time his troops marched a few miles
into the country, and returned again. In January he sent a detachment to
Marshfield, to occupy the village so that the loyal residents might
drink their tea in peace. It was a comfort to him to think that there
was one town in the province in which a militia company was drilling for
his support, and with the king's muskets. A month later Gage sent troops
to Salem, in order to seize some cannon; but the commander, finding the
country in arms to receive him, wisely withdrew his little force
after--to use a term yet to be invented--"saving his face" by crossing a
bridge under promise of immediate return.
The Reverend Jonas Clark, speaking of this event, adds an indignant note
to an equally indignant sermon.[49] "This unsuccessful expedition was
made on Lord's day, Feb. 26, 1775. The party consisted of 200 or 300
men; it was commanded by Lieut. Col. Leslie. The vessels which brought
them to _Marblehead_, arrived in the harbour, on the morning of the
sabbath; and the better to conceal their intentions, lay quietly, at
anchor, near to the wharves, with but very few hands upon deck (the
troops being kept close) 'till the people of the town were assembled
for the services of religion.--While the inhabitants were thus engaged
in their devotions to God, the party landed and made a speedy march to
Salem. But all their precaution did not avail them for the
accomplishment of their enterprize. The _eagle-eyes_ of a watchful and
wary people, justly jealous of every measure of their oppressors, are
not easily evaded. Their motions were observed, and such timely notice
given, that such numbers were collected and such measures taken, before
they arrived, as effectually frustrated their design and obliged them to
return defeated and chagrined."
So, throughout the winter, the garrison and its governor accomplished
nothing--or less than nothing, if one considers that Gage proved to the
provincials the weakness of his character, while at the same time he
angered them by issuing, when the provincial congress appointed a day of
prayer, a proclamation against hypocrisy.
As the winter passed there was at times hope that the political
situation might be relieved by action of Parliament. Yet though the
worst House of Commons in history had been dissolved, the one which took
its place was, at its beginning, little better. It learned wisdom only
from the events of the war. To this Parliament Chatham and Burke now
appealed in vain; even Fox, at last definitely taking his stand with the
supporters of America, could not move it from its subservience to the
king. When finally a bill was introduced to deprive America of its
fisheries, it began to seem that legislative oppression could go no
further.
And now to other Americans than Samuel Adams it became evident that
there was no hope of concession from England. The second provincial
congress began its sittings. Warren was still on the Committee of
Safety. Preble, Ward, and Pomeroy were reappointed generals, and to them
were added Thomas and Heath. Supplies were voted for an army of fifteen
thousand. There was still hope of conciliation, but, wrote Warren,
"every day, every hour, widens the breach."
The town of Boston knew how wide the breach was, and how different the
points of view. The letters and diaries of the time show the constant
little irritations which exasperated both sides. In those days, if the
British soldier was not so sober as now, the British officer was far
more given to drink. From "the Erskine incident" until almost the
outbreak of hostilities, drunken officers made trouble with the
inhabitants, and found them less submissive than the average British
citizen. Yankee burghers had an uncomfortable trick of arming themselves
with cudgels and returning to the attack; the watch occasionally locked
up Lieutenant This and Ensign That; and more dignified citizens,
disdaining personal conflict, brought their complaints to the general,
thus adding to his troubles. John Andrews tells the story of the school
boys who, in the phrase of the day, "improv'd" the coast on School
Street. "General Haldiman, improving the house that belongs to Old Cook,
his servant took it upon him to cut up their coast and fling ashes upon
it. The lads made a muster, and chose a committee to wait upon the
General, who admitted them, and heard their complaint, which was couch'd
in very genteel terms, complaining that their fathers before 'em had
improv'd it as a coast from time immemorial, &ca. He ordered his servant
to repair the damage, and acquainted the Governor with the affair, who
observ'd that it was impossible to beat the notion of Liberty out of the
people, as it was rooted in 'em _from their Childhood_."
Gage did his best to be fair to the inhabitants, and they acknowledged
his endeavor. But the officers, less experienced than he and with fewer
responsibilities, and also less acquainted with the spirit of the
colonists, were angry with him for what they called his subservience.
They dubbed him Tommy, and confided their indignation to their diaries.
"Yesterday," wrote Lieutenant Barker of the King's Own,[50] "in
compliance with the request of the Select Men, Genl Gage order'd that
no Soldier in future shou'd appear in the Streets with his side Arms.
Query, Is this not encouraging the Inhabitants in their licentious and
riotous disposition? Also orders are issued for the Guards to seize all
military Men found engaged in any disturbance, whether Agressors or not;
and to secure them, 'till the matter is enquired into. By Whom? By
Villains that wou'd not censure one of their own Vagrants, even if He
attempted the life of a Soldier; whereas if a Soldier errs in the least,
who is more ready to accuse than Tommy? His negligence on the other hand
has been too conspicuous in the affair of Cn. Maginis to require a
further comment."
Doubtless there is much to be said for the soldiers, both officers and
privates, since the Bostonians had not abandoned their irritating ways,
even in the midst of an army. But the army was also very hard to live
with. On the first of January our discontented officer records, "Nothing
remarkable but the drunkenness among the Soldiers, which is now got to
a very great pitch; owing to the cheapness of the liquor, a Man may get
drunk for a Copper or two." The officers, we have seen, did not set
their men a very good example; but even in their sober senses they were
scarcely conciliatory. They formed burlesque congresses, and marched in
mock procession in the streets, absurdly dressed to represent the
leaders of the Whigs. On the queen's birthday a banquet was held, and
from the balcony of the tavern the toasts were announced, while in the
street a squad of soldiers fired salutes. Toasts to Lord North were not
relished in Boston, and reminders of Culloden were too significant for
those whom the army already called rebels. It is an interesting proof of
the weakness of Gage's hold upon his own army that such childishness
should have been permitted, or that such threats should have been made
to a town that still was within its legal rights.
Beneath these petty quarrels we perceive the fundamental differences.
Over these the more learned of both sides carried on a war of words.
The newspapers teemed with letters, poems, essays, and dissertations;
and Novanglus, Massachusettensis, Vindex, and other pseudo-Romans
endeavored to convert each other, or else to point solemn warnings.
"Remember," writes a yeoman of Suffolk County, "the fate of Wat Tyler,
and think how vain it is for Jack, Sam, or Will to war against Great
Britain, now she is in earnest!... Our leaders are desperate bankrupts!
Our country is without money, stores, or necessaries of war,--without
one place of refuge or defence! If we were called together, we should be
a confused herd, without any disposition to obedience, without a general
of ability to direct and guide us; and our numbers would be our
destruction! Never did a people rebel with so little reason; therefore
our conduct cannot be justified before God!... Rouse, rouse ye,
Massachusetians, while it be yet time! Ask pardon of God, submit to our
king and parliament, whom we have wickedly and grievously offended."[51]
This exclamatory appeal plainly shows a type of mind which often has
saved the British Empire, yet which at periods in history has come near
to ruining it. English conservatism has at most times been invaluable to
the country; but when, as repeatedly under the Stuart kings and again
under George III, it has forsaken its true task in order to support
absolutism, it has brought the ship of state very near to wreck. In
reminding of the fate of Wat Tyler our Suffolk yeoman forgot, if indeed
he ever knew, the fate of Charles and James Stuart. The majority of
Englishmen have never been willing to admit that in defending their
constitutional rights they were guilty of impiety. Though such warnings
and appeals were at this time frequent enough, the Whigs paid no regard
to them.
When we leave the Tories and turn to the soldiery we find one other
common English failing--underrating an adversary. England had so long
been victorious on land and sea that it was almost a natural assumption
that she was superior to any force that could be brought against her.
But that she was always right, or her opponents always cowards, were
corollaries that did not necessarily follow. Yet both of these were
implicitly believed, not only by supporters at home, but also by the
army in America. As to Yankee cowardice, many a Tory could, and later
did, warn the troops against belief in it. But now, at any rate, the
belief was fully indulged. From it was an easy step to general contempt.
Rascal and Scoundrel were common synonyms for Whig. Lord Percy was a
brigadier-general and old enough to form his own conclusions, yet after
living in the camp at Boston for a month, he gives us a complete
analysis of the American character--the summary, no doubt, of British
military opinion. "The People here," he wrote home, "are the most
designing, Artfull Villains in the World. They have not the least Idea
of either Religion or Morality. Nor have they the least Scruple of
taking the most solemn Oath on any Matter that can assist their
Purpose, tho' they know the direct contrary can be clearly & evidently
proved in half an Hour."[52]
We see, then, the situation fully prepared: an inflexible people, a weak
governor, a party of believers in divine right, and a contemptuous
soldiery. The next event, which all but ended in violence, showed that
there needed but a little tenser situation in order to bring about the
rupture.
Now occurred the annual oration on the Massacre. Since that tragedy,
five years ago, there had been an annual commemoration of it in the form
of a speech by one of the Whig leaders. This year the post was one of
evident responsibility and even of danger, but Warren, true to his
character, solicited the appointment. He announced his subject as "The
Baleful Influence of Standing Armies in Time of Peace." On the fifth of
March the crowd that came to hear him filled the Old South to the doors.
The chance was one which, had Gage received the orders which were
supposed to have been sent him, and had he been the man he ought to
have been, he never should have let slip. There in one building were, of
the chiefs of the "faction," Warren, Samuel Adams, Hancock, and many
lesser men. They could be taken at one blow. Some forty British officers
were present, whether to effect a capture or merely to cause a
disturbance was not known. At Samuel Adams' instance they were given
front seats, or places on the steps of the pulpit. There they listened
quietly to Warren's words.
The oration was, in the style of the day, florid; but it was full of
genuine feeling. Warren spoke of the rise of the British Empire in
America, the hope of its future, the policy of the king, and the
Massacre. Turning then to the present situation, he spoke in words which
no one could mistake, bolder, perhaps, than ever before had been
publicly spoken in the presence of hostile soldiers. He reminded his
countrymen of their martial achievements, he spoke of the critical
situation, and, while disclaiming the desire for independence,
encouraged the colonists to claim their rights. "An independence of
Great Britain is not our aim. No: our wish is, that Britain and the
colonies may, like the oak and ivy, grow and increase in strength
together. But, whilst the infatuated plan of making one part of the
empire slaves to the other is persisted in, the interest and safety of
Britain as well as the colonies require that the wise measures
recommended by the honorable, the Continental Congress be steadily
pursued, whereby the unnatural contest between a parent honored and a
child beloved may probably be brought to such an issue that the peace
and happiness of both may be established upon a lasting basis. But, if
these pacific measures are ineffectual, and it appears the only way to
safety lies through fields of blood, I know you will not turn your faces
from our foes, but will undauntedly press forward until tyranny is
trodden under foot, and you have fixed your adored goddess, Liberty,
fast by a Brunswick's side, on the American throne."[53]
These were fearless words, and full of meaning. Had there been men of
sense among the officers present, they must have been impressed by the
solemnity of the warning; in fact, they were silent until the end. It
was not until after the oration, when the meeting was voting thanks to
the orator, that the officers endeavored to interrupt the proceedings.
The cry of Fie! was mistaken for that of Fire, and there was a moment's
panic. We have opposing accounts of it.
"It was imagined," wrote our discontented Lieutenant of the King's Own,
"that there wou'd have been a riot, which if there had wou'd in all
probability have proved fatal to Hancock, Adams, Warren, and the rest of
those Villains, as they were all up in the Pulpit together, and the
meeting was crowded with Officers and Seamen in such a manner that they
cou'd not have escaped; however it luckily did not turn out so; it wou'd
indeed have been a pity for them to have made their exit in that way, as
I hope before long we shall have the pleasure of seeing them do it by
the hands of the Hangman."
John Andrews looked at the matter differently. "The officers in general
behave more like a parcel of children, of late, than men. Captain ----
of the Royal Irish first exposed himself by behaving in a very
scandalous manner at the South meeting.... He got pretty decently
frighted for it. A woman, among the rest, attacked him and threatened to
wring his nose." An outbreak may have been what the officers wanted.
"But," says Samuel Adams, who acted on his maxim that it is good
politics to put and keep the enemy in the wrong, "order was restored,
and we proceeded regularly, and finished the business. I am persuaded,
were it not for the danger of precipitating a crisis, not a man of them
would have been spared."[54]
The whole was a type of the existing situation. Here were the officers,
still causing petty disturbances; here too, no doubt, were Tories,
contemptuous of the proceedings. Deeper still appears the real
significance of the occasion. On the one side was the governor, unable,
with all the power of the king, to prevent a meeting of the citizens to
condemn his presence in the town--for the meeting was the "Port Bill
meeting," adjourned from time to time since the previous May. And on the
other side were the citizens, legally protesting and exasperatingly
defiant, evidently under perfect self-restraint, determined not to
strike the first blow.
The officers took, as usual, a puerile revenge in the form of a
burlesque. "A vast number" of them assembled at the Coffee House in King
Street, and chose selectmen and an orator, "who deliver'd an oration
from the balcony to a crowd of few else beside gaping officers."[55]
Others of them caught a countryman who had been decoyed into buying a
musket from a soldier, and tarred and feathered him.
But these were surface trivialities. Beneath them the true situation was
growing worse. Out in the country military stores were being collected
at Worcester and at Concord; and over in Parliament the fisheries bill,
designed to deprive thousands in America of their living, was sure of
passing. At last Franklin, who had stayed in London as long as there
seemed anything for him to accomplish, patiently bearing humiliation and
insults, on the 20th of March took ship for Philadelphia. It was the
sign that there was no further hope of peace.
FOOTNOTES:
[46] Bancroft.
[47] Adams Letters, 39.
[48] Andrews Letters.
[49] A Sermon preached at Lexington, April 19, 1776, 26.
[50] His diary is published in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for April and May,
1877, 384 and 544. I shall use it freely without further definite
reference.
[51] Frothingham's "Life of Warren," 413
[52] Bulletin of Boston Public Library, x, No. 87, 320.
[53] Frothingham's "Life of Warren," 435-436.
[54] Wells, "Life of Adams," ii, 281.
[55] Andrews Letters.