out. On Thursday, they called on Oliver and told him that he must appease the mob by resigning as stamp master. Oliver replied that he resented their lack of support when he had stood“a single man against a whole people for thirty-six hours.”
At about nine o’clock that evening, a crowd of men and women gathered again outside Oliver’s house and shouted slogans about liberty and property. Oliver gathered his family around him and sent out a note. He said later that his message had promised only that he would delay taking office as stamp master until he had informed London about the public outcry over the act.
The crowd heard a different promise—that Oliver would send his resignation to London by the next ship. Since he seemed to be capitulating, they retreated to Oliver’s gate, sent up three cheers and hurried along to Thomas Hutchinson’s house. Hutchinson had counseled London against the Stamp Act, but his attempt the night before to quell the rioting made it easy to believe that he supported the tax.
Hutchinson heard the fists beating on his door and the voices demanding that he come out onto his balcony and swear that he had not endorsed the act. His courage—or pride—would always prevent the lieutenant governor from bowing to the will of a mob. Hutchinson braced for the worst and gave no answer. Before any ransacking could begin, a neighbor called from his window that he had seen the family in their carriage, heading for the country house in Milton. With that news, the spirit seemed to go out of the crowd and it reluctantly dispersed.
The rest of the week passed quietly. Possibly, the Sons of Liberty were planning more demonstrations. At least rumors keptcirculating of different plots and their targets. Hutchinson was inclined to blame the discontent less on the politicians than on several of the town’s clergymen, and the Tories quoted James Otis as calling Boston’s rebellious ministers his“black regiment.” One of the most notorious was Jonathan Mayhew, an incendiary preacher who attacked the doctrine of the Trinity and called the organized clergy the greatest enemies of true religion.
Francis Bernard was convinced that Mayhew had joined with Samuel Adams and James Otis. But Bernard’s information was wrong. In his religion Mayhew might be a Nonconformist, a Dissenter, and he did describe himself as a friend of liberty, but before August was out Mayhew would find that he did not qualify as a Son of Liberty.
—
The Reverend Mayhew took his text on Sunday, August 25, 1765, from Galatians: “I would they were even cut off which trouble you, for brethren ye have been called unto liberty.” Thomas Hutchinson noticed that Mayhew ended his message there because the next verse went on to warn about limitations on liberty.
The next night, bonfires blazed again in King Street, and whistles and horns filled the air. Governor Bernard heard a large crowd gathering in the streets and crying, “Liberty and property!” and he reflected sourly that the mob always shouted those words when it intended to pull down a house. Once again the mob’s leader was Ebenezer Mackintosh from the South End. Tonight, however, his motives were less clear than they had been twelve days ago.
An official at the Vice-Admiralty Court, William Story, had been accumulating depositions that accused several Boston merchants of being smugglers. In this morning’s newspaper, Story had published an advertisement denying that he had sent those incriminating documents to England, but some members of the mob didn’t believe him and they tore up his living quarters, along with much of the Admiralty’s archives. Other men headed in the direction of the home of the comptroller of customs, Benjamin Hallowell. In a day when laborers might be earning less than sixty pounds a year, Hallowell had spent more than two thousand pounds on a new house. The mob ripped off his windows and doors, drank his wine cellar dry and carried off his
At about nine o’clock that evening, a crowd of men and women gathered again outside Oliver’s house and shouted slogans about liberty and property. Oliver gathered his family around him and sent out a note. He said later that his message had promised only that he would delay taking office as stamp master until he had informed London about the public outcry over the act.
The crowd heard a different promise—that Oliver would send his resignation to London by the next ship. Since he seemed to be capitulating, they retreated to Oliver’s gate, sent up three cheers and hurried along to Thomas Hutchinson’s house. Hutchinson had counseled London against the Stamp Act, but his attempt the night before to quell the rioting made it easy to believe that he supported the tax.
Hutchinson heard the fists beating on his door and the voices demanding that he come out onto his balcony and swear that he had not endorsed the act. His courage—or pride—would always prevent the lieutenant governor from bowing to the will of a mob. Hutchinson braced for the worst and gave no answer. Before any ransacking could begin, a neighbor called from his window that he had seen the family in their carriage, heading for the country house in Milton. With that news, the spirit seemed to go out of the crowd and it reluctantly dispersed.
The rest of the week passed quietly. Possibly, the Sons of Liberty were planning more demonstrations. At least rumors keptcirculating of different plots and their targets. Hutchinson was inclined to blame the discontent less on the politicians than on several of the town’s clergymen, and the Tories quoted James Otis as calling Boston’s rebellious ministers his“black regiment.” One of the most notorious was Jonathan Mayhew, an incendiary preacher who attacked the doctrine of the Trinity and called the organized clergy the greatest enemies of true religion.
Francis Bernard was convinced that Mayhew had joined with Samuel Adams and James Otis. But Bernard’s information was wrong. In his religion Mayhew might be a Nonconformist, a Dissenter, and he did describe himself as a friend of liberty, but before August was out Mayhew would find that he did not qualify as a Son of Liberty.
—
The Reverend Mayhew took his text on Sunday, August 25, 1765, from Galatians: “I would they were even cut off which trouble you, for brethren ye have been called unto liberty.” Thomas Hutchinson noticed that Mayhew ended his message there because the next verse went on to warn about limitations on liberty.
The next night, bonfires blazed again in King Street, and whistles and horns filled the air. Governor Bernard heard a large crowd gathering in the streets and crying, “Liberty and property!” and he reflected sourly that the mob always shouted those words when it intended to pull down a house. Once again the mob’s leader was Ebenezer Mackintosh from the South End. Tonight, however, his motives were less clear than they had been twelve days ago.
An official at the Vice-Admiralty Court, William Story, had been accumulating depositions that accused several Boston merchants of being smugglers. In this morning’s newspaper, Story had published an advertisement denying that he had sent those incriminating documents to England, but some members of the mob didn’t believe him and they tore up his living quarters, along with much of the Admiralty’s archives. Other men headed in the direction of the home of the comptroller of customs, Benjamin Hallowell. In a day when laborers might be earning less than sixty pounds a year, Hallowell had spent more than two thousand pounds on a new house. The mob ripped off his windows and doors, drank his wine cellar dry and carried off his
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