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Unsent Letters to a British
Soldier's Wife Reveal Another View of the Boston Massacre.
By: Kate D. |
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1770, the First of
March
Dearest Wife,
As you know, my father was a Captain in the British Army, and so at my
age of twenty one, I must serve the army just as he did. So far I have
been assigned to the Sixteenth Regiment, one destined for what his
majesty calls “The New World of England.” Once I arrived here I noted
how terrible the place actually was. Just a few weeks have passed since
a violent attack on a Loyalist. His name was Eboneezer Richardson, a
man I had met just a few days prior, who couldn’t stand my view of the
King. He was such a strong Loyalist I could tell he would act out for
his home country, and he did so accordingly.
It is rare to get any free time under the strict rule of the army but
my captain had a meeting with two other generals so we were free to
look for another job or, if you can afford it, eat an actual meal. I
decided to go for a walk, my leg muscles sore and overused from the
vigorous training. My legs hadn’t carried me far when I saw a group of
boys including a young, yet strong Patriot named Christopher Seider,
who were strutting down the street calling at every Redcoat seen. They
were causing much havoc, and just their existence and yelling was
angering my fellow soldiers, creating a great tension which caused
silence to fall over the neighborhood. Once they got to a small shop
owned by Richardson, they began to throw rocks at the shop; breaking
window panes and busting wooden planks. They laughed and taunted
Richardson. Then one stone went up into the air and came down hard and
fast- right upon Richardson’s head. He gave a cry as his head began to
bleed furiously, and he went into the building. Some boys pointed at
the window upstairs and a gun was fired. The shot echoed throughout the
neighborhood, and one boy fell. His fellows grabbed him just before he
hit the ground. What they caught was Christopher's body.
Since then there has been a stunningly large funeral procession, I
myself nearly attended. The sight of the small coffin traveling the
streets put a spike through my heart, yet I had to act emotionless
because a general had spotted me. I would surely be whipped, an
incredibly painful punishment for not obeying the rules. Every soldier
has felt the whip once, and when you do, you will never wish to feel it
again. Because I am from England, I have already heard the pain the cat
‘o nine tails impacts upon the soldiers; it is very comparable to being
shot. This is why I have to stay keen and ignore the jeering of
the crowd at the daily hangings in what the Bostonians call “the
Common”. As you can tell my life is very brutal at the time, and I see
no time in the future when it will lighten up. Being in Boston is
almost as difficult as dealing with daily inspections and the horrid
clothes we are forced to wear. Please wish me luck dear wife, for I
will be hung just as the others if my feelings directed towards the
King were to be discovered.
With all my love,
-John Edwards-
The fifth of March in the year of 1770
To my dear wife,
Today a terrible event took place that shook all of Boston. The event
is now being called “the massacre”, and the event is very worthy of its
name.
Everything was going normally, except the tension between British
soldiers and the townspeople was becoming unbearable. As I powdered my
hair and put on my uniform I heard shouts tormenting the soldiers who
had just emerged from their tents. Some of the men who were adjusting
their cuffs paused to listen to the tormenting. The soldiers were
beginning to get more aggressive toward the townspeople; after months
in Boston our temperament for the Bostonians was running thin. I
believe that the colonists also are becoming more aggressive, and they
have begun to get violent. As I finished dusting off my coat and
shining my shoes, I went outside to meet the captain whom would lead me
today. Captain Thomas Preston would lead the guard troop today, and we
had a very small area to patrol and little to do. Most of the day we
were sharpening weapons and ignoring the shouts of children:
“Bloodybacks, how dare you cometh into our town! Be gone with ye- be
gone!” It went like this all day until we all cocked our heads to the
sound of a group forming. We were told to ignore the chants, and
even though it sounded bad we agreed it was only a group of young boys.
How much damage could a few lads do?
Only a few short minutes had passed, and the cries and chants had
gotten so loud there must have been nearly two hundred or more
Bostonians standing infront of the meeting house. This was when we
heard a cry from a fellow soldier, quiet first. Then it grew louder and
louder as if the urgency for help was growing “The mob! I need
assistance- please Captain I need more guards!” Preston began running
and eight men of my group followed him, all of the others thinking that
was plenty for a mob. I decided to risk being whipped and follow them
to see why everyone was shouting “Fire!”. When I got close enough to
watch my eyes beheld an amazing sight. There was a massive mob
tormenting the lone sentry on duty, and the church bell was going off,
which is the signal of a fire. People were rushing out of their homes
carrying buckets of ice and some snow off of the ground. It was hard to
hear anything other than the yells of “Fire!” and the church bell,
which was just adding to the noise of the people in front of the mob.
The front of the mob were young men whom had probably started all of
this; They were throwing things and pressing the men to fire. They
continued to advance, moving closer and threatening the soldiers,
daring them to shoot as the confusion mounted. Within seconds the
screams grew unbearable and none of us could hear Preston insisting we
not fire. Soon one man in the crowd who was near us yelled, in a voice
very similar to Preston’s: “Fire or let you all be shame upon the
King.” This sentence sounded very similar to an angered captain- and
one man set his musket off purposely, not aiming for anyone but just
allowing a bullet to leave his gun and fly into the crowd with an
explosive bang. Soon after everyone followed suit, all eight firing
into the crowd, not knowing what the consequence of their acts would be.
After it was all over, I discovered that three men had been killed
instantly, and that two have been severely wounded. I walked over to
the building once the crowd only consisted of mourners and the dead.
When I came round to the front of the building, I saw the victims still
in the snow. That was when I saw the blood and I said to myself: There
was no need for this bloodshed tonight, and there was no need for these
human’s lives to end this way. This was the moment I realized that this
could have been prevented, and then I knew I sided with the Patriots.
Your dear husband,
-John Edwards-
The twelfth of March in the year of 1770
My dear wife,
Just a few days ago I wrote to you about what is now officially
called “The Boston Massacre”. It was so named by a local newspaper
called the Boston Gazette. There were accounts from people who
witnessed it, but I did not step forward to give my account. If I had,
I would be asked to be a witness in court and just for disobeying my
Captain I would be whipped, and possibly executed. Afterward if my
Captain hadn’t whipped me to death if I were to be asked to the stand I
know that I would be thought as another shooter, and I decided to stay
to myself while the printers collected information. What I do know is
that the soldiers are in jail until their time in court arrives, which
may not be for awhile. On the eighth there was a large funeral, and
every shop in the city was closed to mourn for the dead victims, which
has now raised to five. One of the victims was Crispus Attucks, a free
slave whom I had seen once or twice on patrols. I had never seen him
tormenting another, and he was very kind and proud of his work as a
rope maker and a sailor. It was a shame to know this all could have
been prevented and that none of these five would be dead, and I felt
very depressed when I saw the funeral procession. Just the fact that
these five victims to this terrible event were living and breathing
people, were now wasted with death disgusted me.
It is very sad here in the city; its folk mostly overwhelmed by the
past events. To my surprise, I heard a rumor that the soldiers and
Captain Preston himself would go on trial. I must express my surprise
to you because as you know it is very different in England. Most often
they allow the captain to go on freely and depending on how serious the
crime, the soldiers would either be hung or let free, no questions
asked.
I know that the Bostonians are now angered with our presence and
believe us to be very dangerous, so I would not be surprised if we see
each other again soon. My father’s uniform is now a faded red and I am
getting tired of the fighting and constant brawls in this city. I have
also gotten a terrible pain in my stomach today. A medicine lady who
traveled with us to Boston gave me tea with a lot of St. John’s Wart in
it. I vomited many times in a row and after all of the lunch the army
served was free of my stomach I felt slightly better. Now I am
growing used to the smell of my pigtails dipped in the animal grease,
and thus as the stench grows less pungent the more and more I grow
tired of this new world. I hope to see you soon, for I wish to see you
and our daughter again before she grows old herself.
Best regards and hope to see you soon,
-John Edwards-
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Historical References:
Bibliography:
Beller Provost, Susan. The Revolutionary War. New
York:
Benchmark Books 2002.
Central Virginia’s Community Online. The 64 Regiment of Foot During the
American Revolution. 6 April 2006
<http://www.lvix.org/index.html>
Hakim, Joy. From Colonies to
Country 1735-1791. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2003
Hoose, Philip. We Were
There, Too! United States: 2001.
Murray, Stuart. Eyewitness:
American Revolution. New York: DK
Publishing,
2005.
Recht Penner, Lucille, and Wenzel, David. Liberty: How the
Revolutionary War Began. New York, U.S.A: Random House Inc.,
2002.
Runyon, Jane. Colonial
Soldiers. 9 April 2006
<http://www.edhelper.com/ReadingComprehension_35_93.html>
The Boston Massacre.
4 April 2006
<http://www.earlyamerica.com/
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Historical Terms
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| Loyalist |
Patriot |
| Musket |
South Meeting House
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| Sentry |
Slave |
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About the Historian
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I am a Windsor 7 student who
photographed this expedition and was assigned the role of a British
Soldier. I wrote three letters about what life would be like as a
soldier in Colonial Boston.
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