Cause or Occasion of the Battle—British Detachment proceeds towards Concord—Reaches Lexington—First Blood shed—Hancock and Adams—Captain Wheeler and the British Officer—Stores destroyed—The British harassed by the Americans—Retreat from Concord—Effect of this affair upon the Country—Proceedings of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress.
The immediate cause of the battle, or, more properly, rencontre at Lexington, was an attempt of a detachment of British troops to execute an order of General Gage to destroy certain military stores, which the provincials had collected at Concord, a town situated some eighteen miles from Boston. In anticipation of an approaching contest, the provincial assembly of Massachusetts had passed a resolution for the purchase of all the gunpowder that could be found, and of every sort of arms and ammunition requisite for an army of fifteen thousand men. As these objects abounded principally in Boston, the inhabitants employed all their address to procure and transport them to places of safety in the country. Cannon-balls and other instruments of war were therefore collected and transported in carts, apparently loaded with manure; powder in the baskets and panniers of those who came from Boston market, and cartridges were concealed even in candle-boxes. By these means, and through other channels, a considerable quantity of arms and ammunition had been collected at Concord.
Excited by the loyalists, General Gage resolved to send a few companies to Concord, for the purpose already stated. It was said, also, that he had it in view, by this sudden expedition, to get possession of John Hancock and Samuel Adams, two of the most ardent patriot chiefs, and the principal directors of the provincial congress, then assembled in the town of Concord.
In pursuance of the above purpose, on the evening of the 18th of April, several British officers dispersed themselves here and there upon the road and passages, to intercept the couriers that might have been dispatched to give notice of the movements of the troops. The governor gave orders that no person should be allowed to leave the city; nevertheless, Dr. Warren, one of the most active patriots, had timely intimation of the scheme, and immediately dispatched confidential messengers; some of whom found the roads interdicted by the officers who guarded them; but others made their way unperceived to Lexington, a town upon the road leading to Concord. The intelligence was soon divulged; the people flocked together; the bells in all parts were rung to give the alarm; and the continual firing of cannon spread the agitation through all the neighboring country. In the midst of this tumultuous scene, at eleven in the evening, a strong detachment of grenadiers and of light infantry was embarked at Boston, to land at a place called Phipps' Farm, whence they marched to Concord.
The British troops were under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Smith and Major Pitcairn, who led the van-guard. The militia of Lexington, as the intelligence of the movement of this detachment was uncertain, had separated in the course of the night. Finally, at five in the morning of the 19th, advice was received of the near approach of the royal troops. The provincials that happened to be near, assembled—to the number, however, of only seventy. The English appeared; and Major Pitcairn, galloping up to them, in a loud voice cried, "Disperse, rebels! lay down your arms, and disperse!"
The provincials did not obey; upon which, advancing nearer, he discharged a pistol, and, brandishing his sword, ordered his soldiers to fire. Eight Americans were killed, three or four of them by the first fire of the British; the others, after they had left the parade. Several were also wounded. A handsome monument has been erected to the memory of the killed, on the green where the first of them fell.
Meanwhile, Hancock and Adams retired from danger; and it is related that, while on the march, the latter, enraptured with joy, exclaimed, "Oh, what an ever-glorious morning is this!"—considering this first effusion of blood as the prelude of events which must secure the happiness of his country. The soldiers advanced towards Concord, where the inhabitants assembled; but seeing the numbers of the enemy, they fell back, and posted themselves on a bridge, north of the town. The light infantry assailed them with fury, routed them, and occupied the bridge, while the others entered Concord, and proceeded to the execution of their orders. They disabled two twenty-four pounders, threw five hundred pounds of ball into the river and wells, and broke in pieces about sixty barrels of flour.
During the search of the British for military stores, a British officer demanded entrance into the barn of Captain Wheeler. This was readily granted. In it was stored a large quantity of provincial flour. The officer expressed his pleasure at the discovery. But Captain Wheeler, with much affected simplicity, said to him, putting his hand on a barrel, "This is my flour. I am a miller, sir; yonder stands my mill; I get my living by it. In the winter, I grind a great deal of grain, and get it ready for market in the spring. This," (pointing to one barrel,) "is the flour of wheat; this," (pointing to another,) "is the flour of corn; this is the flour of rye; this," (putting his hand on his own cask,) "is my flour; this is my wheat; this is my rye; this is mine." "Well," said the officer, "we do not injure private property," and withdrew, leaving this important depository untouched.
The militia being rëinforced, Major Buttrick, of Concord, who had gallantly offered to command them, advanced towards the bridge; but, not knowing of the transaction at Lexington, ordered the men not to give the first fire, that the provincials might not be the aggressors. As he advanced, the light infantry retired to the Concord side of the river, and began to pull up the bridge; and on his nearer approach, they fired, and killed a captain and one of the privates. The provincials returned the fire; a skirmish ensued, and the regulars were forced to retreat, with some loss. They were soon joined by the main body, which now retreated with precipitancy. Meanwhile, the people of the adjacent country flocked in, and attacked them in every direction. Some fired from behind stone walls and other coverts; while others pressed on their rear during their retreat to Lexington.
General Gage, apprehensive for the fate of the English, had dispatched nine hundred men and two field-pieces, under command of Lord Percy. This corps arrived very opportunely at Lexington, at the moment when the royal troops entered the town from the other side, pursued with fury by the provincial militia.
It appears highly probable that, without this rëinforcement, they would have all been cut to pieces or made prisoners; their strength was exhausted, as well as their ammunition. After making a considerable halt at Lexington, they renewed their march towards Boston, the number of the provincials increasing, although the rear-guard of the English was less molested, on account of the two field-pieces, which repressed the impetuosity of the Americans. But the flanks of the columns remained exposed to a destructive fire, from every point adapted to serve as coverts. The royalists were also annoyed by the heat, which was excessive, and by a violent wind, which blew a thick dust in their eyes. Finally, after a march of incredible fatigue, and considerable loss of men, the English, overwhelmed with lassitude, arrived at sunset in Charlestown. Independently of the combat they had sustained, the distance they had that day traveled was above five-and-thirty miles. The day following, they crossed over to Boston.[31]
The rencontre at Lexington was, in itself, an inconsiderable affair. But, in its relation and influence, its importance can scarcely be estimated. It was the first outbreak of indignant feeling, which, for months and years, had been acquiring strength, but which, until now, had been suppressed. It was a solution of the problem, whether the wrongs of America could be redressed without a resort to arms. It developed the spirit and determination, as well of the king and parliament, as of the Americans themselves. It shut the door for further negotiation; it cut off hope for the colonies, but through an appeal to arms. In fact, it was a signal for war—it was war itself.
The affair had two results. The first was to demonstrate how false and ridiculous were the vaunts of those Gascons who, within parliament as well as without, had spoken in such unworthy terms of American courage; from this moment, the English nation, and especially its soldiers, persuaded themselves that the struggle would be far more severe and sanguinary than had been at first believed. The second effect of the combat was, greatly to increase the confidence of the colonists, and their resolution to defend their rights. It should be added, also, that the reports of the cruelties of the British troops produced an incredible excitement in the minds of the inhabitants, which was still further increased by the public honors which were paid to those who had fallen in the opening contest. Their eulogies were pronounced, and they were styled martyrs of liberty, while their families were the objects of unusual veneration. They were cited as the models to be imitated in the approaching conflict.
The provincial congress of Massachusetts was in session at Watertown, ten miles distant from Boston. On receiving intelligence of the battle, it took immediate measures to raise thirteen thousand and six hundred men, and chose for their general Colonel Ward, an officer of much reputation. This militia was designed to form the contingent of Massachusetts; the provinces of New Hampshire, Connecticut, and Rhode Island were invited to furnish theirs, in order to complete an army of thirty thousand men, to be commanded by General John Thomas, an officer of great experience. Connecticut dispatched, immediately, a considerable corps, under the command of Colonel Putnam, an old officer, who, in the two late wars, had often given proof of courage and intelligence. The other provinces were not slow in causing their standards to move; and, in a short time, an army of thirty thousand men was found assembled under the walls of Boston. So great and so universal was the ardor produced among the inhabitants by the battle of Lexington, that the American generals were obliged to send back to their homes many thousand volunteers. Putnam took his station at Cambridge, and Thomas at Roxbury, upon the right wing of the army, to cut off entirely the communication of the garrison, by the isthmus, with the adjacent country. Thus, in a few days after the affair of Lexington, the capital of the province of Massachusetts was closely besieged; thus a multitude assembled in haste, of men, declared rebels and mean-spirited cowards, held in strict confinement, not daring to sally forth even to procure food, many thousands of veteran troops, commanded by an able general, and combating under the royal standard.
American Patriotism—American and British Forces—Fortification of Bunker's hill—Attacked by British Ships—Asa Pollard, the first Martyr—Preparations of the British—Warren—Prescott's Injunction to his Troops—British repulsed with terrible slaughter—Second Attack—Charlestown set on fire at the same time—Second Repulse—Putnam and Major Small—Death of Colonel Gardiner—Thrilling Incident—Third Advance of the British—Death of Major Pitcairn—Americans in want of Ammunition—Retreat—Death of Warren—Respective Losses—Results of the Battle.
Boston, which for a considerable time had been the point of greatest interest in the American colonies, was not less so immediately following the battle of Lexington. That engagement served to quicken the already excited pulse of thousands. The fires of patriotism burned brighter. Sires and sons, mothers and daughters, rejoiced that the crisis had come, and were ready to make every needful sacrifice for their country's good. In a few weeks, the metropolis of the province of Massachusetts was environed by an American army, fifteen thousand strong—ten thousand of which was furnished by Massachusetts, and three thousand by Connecticut; the rest were supplied by the other New England colonies. Of these troops, General Ward was commander-in-chief. His head-quarters were at Cambridge. The right-wing was stationed at Roxbury, the left at Medford and Chelsea.
Towards the end of May, a considerable rëinforcement arrived at Boston from England, which, with the garrison, formed an army of from ten to twelve thousand men—all veteran troops. At the head of this rëinforcement were three distinguished and practical generals—Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne.
The difference in numbers was on the side of the Americans—not so, however, their military science, arms, or ammunition. They had, in all, but sixteen field-pieces, six of which, at the very utmost, were in a condition for service. Their brass pieces, which were few, were of the smallest caliber. They had, however, some heavy iron cannon, with three or four mortars and howitzers, and some scanty provision of balls and bombs. But of powder, they were almost totally destitute.
The situation of the English was now daily becoming more perplexing and critical, and the necessity was increasingly apparent, if they intended to retain their position, of fortifying certain points in the neighborhood. The two regarded of greatest importance were the heights of Dorchester and Charlestown. The former presenting superior inducements, it was determined to occupy and fortify that first, and, afterwards, the latter.
The Americans having learned the intentions of the British general, it became a serious question what course was most prudent for them to adopt. For a time, a difference of opinion prevailed among the American patriots; but, at length, the committee of safety recommended to the council of war to occupy and fortify Bunker's hill at once, and Dorchester heights (now South Boston), as early after as practicable.
In conformity with this suggestion, on the following day (16th June), General Ward issued orders to Colonel Prescott to proceed to Charlestown, and occupy and fortify Bunker's hill.
The troops detached for this service, amounted to about one thousand men. They were ordered to take provisions but for a single day. In the early part of the evening of the 16th, they were mustered on Cambridge common, near the colleges. They were commended to the protection and guidance of Almighty God, in a prayer by President Langdon; after which, led by the valiant Prescott, attired in a calico frock, and himself preceded by two sergeants with dark lanterns, and accompanied by Colonel Gridley and Judge Winthrop of Cambridge, they took their destined path.
Having reached the ground, a question arose which of the two hills was intended as Bunker's hill. The northern eminence was more generally spoken of under that name, while the southern, commonly called Breed's hill, was evidently the one best fitted for the purpose. After long deliberation, it was decided to construct the principal work on Breed's hill, and to erect an additional and subsidiary one on Bunker's hill. Accordingly, Captain Gridley proceeded to lay out the principal work. Midnight arrived, however, before a spade entered the ground; there remained therefore less than four hours before day-light, when the operations would, of course, be seen by the British. The men, however, now began, and they worked.
Meanwhile, a strong guard, under Captain Manners, was stationed on the Charlestown shore, to watch the enemy. The day had been fair, and it was a clear, star-light night. Colonel Prescott, accompanied by Major Brooks, went down twice to the shore to reconnoitre, and distinctly heard the British sentries relieving guard, and uttering, as they walked their rounds, the customary, but, in this instance deceptive, cry, "All's well!"[32]
The night, on the part of the patriot band, was one of sleepless vigilance and incessant toil. Shovels, pickaxes, and spades, were in incessant motion; and, by four o'clock in the morning, they had thrown up a redoubt, eight rods square and four feet high. At this time, the captain of a British ship, called the Lively, discovered the work, and opened a fire upon it. The alarm was given to the British in Boston, and to the men-of-war in the river, and a heavy cannonade was commenced. The fire from a battery of six guns, on Copp's hill, proved most annoying; but the Americans, regardless of bombs and balls, continued their labors with unshaken constancy. The first martyr who had the honor of shedding his blood, on that ever-memorable hill, was a private soldier by the name of Asa Pollard, of Billerica, and the shot which killed him was the only one which took fatal effect during the forenoon.
While various movements were in progress, the Americans in the neighborhood of the redoubt were by no means idle. About two hundred yards in the rear of the breastwork was a stone fence surmounted with rails. In front of this, another fence was constructed, and the space between the two filled with hay, which happened to be on the field. A subsidiary work was also hastily thrown up on Bunker's hill, properly so called, by General Putnam.
From the moment the British discovered the operations of the Americans, they well knew the importance of dislodging them from their position. They had expected to attain this object by a cannonade from their batteries and ships of war; but it was soon apparent that other and more effective measures would be necessary. Accordingly, after mature consultation in a council of war, summoned by General Gage, it was resolved to transport a competent force across the river, and attack the works in front.
It was "a day without clouds," and intensely hot. Between mid-day and one o'clock, twenty-eight barges were seen moving from the end of Long wharf towards Morton's point. On board of these were four battalions of infantry and ten of grenadiers. They had six pieces of artillery, one of which was placed in each of the six leading boats.
About two o'clock, a second detachment left Winnisimmett ferry, and joined the first at Morton's point. These were soon after followed by rëinforcements, which landed at Madlin's ship-yard, now the navy-yard near the east end of Breed's hill. These several detachments, amounting to about four thousand men, were under command of General Howe, subordinate to whom were General Pigot, and Colonels Nesbit, Abercrombie, and Clark.
A short time before the action commenced, a horseman was perceived advancing rapidly from Charlestown, towards the American redoubt. It proved to be General Warren, the president of the provincial congress. "Ah!" said Putnam, as the former came up, "is it you, General? I am glad to see you, and yet I regret your presence. Your life is too precious to be thus exposed; but since you are here, let me receive your orders." "No," replied the gallant soldier; "I give no orders! I come as a volunteer; and now say where I can be the most useful." "Go, then," said Putnam, "to the redoubt; you will there be less exposed." "Tell me," rejoined Warren, "where will be the point of greatest danger." "The redoubt will be the enemy's first and principal object," said Putnam; "if we can defend that, the day is ours." Warren passed on, and, as he passed, the troops recognised him, and loud and long were their acclamations. Every bosom felt the impulse of his presence. At the redoubt, Prescott received him, and begged him to receive the command. "Give me a musket," said Warren; "to-day I take a lesson from the veteran soldier in the art of war." Warren could not content himself away from the dangers which were thickening around the patriotic cause. The day previous, he had presided in the congress in session at Watertown, and had spent the entire night in transacting business growing out of his official station. On reaching Cambridge, early in the morning, he received intelligence of the expected battle. He attended a meeting of the committee of safety, of which he was chairman. Here he made known his intention of taking part in the approaching contest. "Your ardent temper," said Gerry, "will carry you forward in the midst of peril, and you will probably fall." "I know that I may fall," replied Warren, "but I should die with shame, were I to remain at home in safety, while my friends and fellow-citizens are shedding their blood, and hazarding their lives in the cause." The honor of Warren is greatly enhanced by the consideration that he was originally opposed to the plan of fortifying the heights of Charlestown, but no sooner had the council of war decided upon that measure, than he gave it his hearty cöoperation. And here we see this brave and patriotic man in the field of battle, and in the midst of danger, having adopted the beautiful sentiment of the Roman poet,
The action opened at about three o'clock in the afternoon, at which time a general discharge of artillery was ordered along the whole British line. At the same time, the troops advanced in two divisions. General Howe led the right towards the rail-fence; General Pigot with the left end towards the redoubt.
The march of the British troops was slow, but steady. They wore the aspect of strong confidence and strong determination. Meanwhile, the American drums beat to arms. Quitting his intrenchment, where he was still at work on Bunker's hill, Putnam led his equally determined, but far less disciplined, troops into action. Said this veteran general, in his usual pointed and laconic style, "Fellow-soldiers! powder is scarce, and must not be wasted. Reserve your fire till you see the whites of their eyes. Then take aim at the officers."
This injunction, however, having been disobeyed by a few of the more restless and impetuous, Prescott, proceeding along the lines, said, in a tone of thunder: "The next man that fires before the order is given, shall be instantly shot." It was apparently cruel thus to require troops, whose bosoms were now glowing with burning zeal, to withhold their fire, while the enemy was pouring in his at every step of his progress. It was, however, a wise delay. At length, the British had advanced within eight rods of the redoubt. "Now, men," said Prescott, "now is your time! Make ready! Take aim! Fire!"
And such a deadly fire, perhaps, was never before made; and, when the smoke rolled off, such a sight was perhaps never before seen. The hill-side was covered with the slain. The ranks of the British were broken, and confusion appeared on every side. The British officers attempted to rally their troops. In this, they succeeded so far as to induce them to fire; but, evidently appalled at the fearful and unexpected carnage, they turned, and fled down the hill.
"Following this repulse, there was an ominous pause," says a writer, "like the lull that sometimes interrupts the wildest tempest, only broken by the occasional discharge of artillery from the ships and batteries." It was not, however, of long duration. A second attack was decided upon, and orders issued again to advance. Meanwhile, a deep silence brooded over the American lines, all being intent upon the devastation which had been made, and watching for the future movements of the enemy which had been so signally repulsed. Their success had greatly exceeded their own expectations, and served to inspire them with still more confidence in a second rencontre which they might now momently expect. In the first attack, they had been directed to reserve their fire until the enemy had approached within eight rods; now they must wait until the enemy should approach within six rods.
While the British troops were advancing, suddenly a new spectacle burst upon the eyes of the tens of thousands who were looking on from every neighboring eminence, which greatly added to the sublimity of the scene.
Annoyed in his first attack upon the American redoubt, by the fire of a detachment stationed at Charlestown, General Howe had given directions to fire that town, both by way of revenging the injury he had sustained, and, also, the more to distract the Americans during his second attack, to which he was now advancing. In furtherance of this object, a large quantity of combustibles had been conveyed from Boston, and a detachment of marines, from the Somerset, been landed to set them on fire. The work of conflagration was now commenced. Dense and dark clouds of smoke rose over the town, and at length enveloped the whole peninsula; through this smoke, columns of flame shot up, and flashed in every direction. The fire spread with fearful rapidity from house to house, and from street to street. At length, the flames reached the church, and, climbing its lofty steeple, converted it into a blazing pyramid. The beams, supporting the bell, were burned in sunder, upon which it fell, and while falling, its pealing sounds were distinctly heard by hundreds, uniting with crackling flames and crashing edifices in enhancing the dreadful magnificence of the day.
It was in the midst of a scene of desolation like this—by which property to the amount of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds sterling was destroyed, six hundred buildings consumed, and two thousand people rendered houseless—the two opposing forces were preparing for another sanguinary rencontre. The British general was leading on his troops, as cool and undisturbed as if they had met with no repulse. They opened their fire by platoons, and apparently at random, yet not entirely without effect. Colonels Nixon and Brewer were borne wounded from the works. A ball through his shoulder rendered Colonel Backminster a cripple for life. Major Moore received a shot through the thigh; soon after which, a second ball pierced his body, which subsequently proved mortal.
The Americans had been charged to reserve their fire till the enemy were within six rods. The success which had attended their former delay, now enabled them the more cheerfully to yield obedience to orders, a compliance with which had, in the first instance, seemed nearly impossible. At length, the enemy reached the prescribed distance, when the anticipated words, "Make ready! Take aim! Fire!" were heard in a voice like thunder—and, in an instant, hundreds of men, including a surprising number of principal officers, were seen prostrated in the dust. The fire proved even more destructive than in the first attack. General Howe was left nearly alone, almost every officer of his staff being either killed or wounded. So sweeping had been the destruction, that the ranks were fatally broken, and a second time orders were issued for the British army to make good their retreat.
An interesting incident is related, as having occurred immediately following the fire of the Americans. Among the British officers who escaped the terrible destruction, was Major Small; but, so fatal had been the fire, that scarcely was there a man left near him. Consequently, his superior dress rendered him a more conspicuous object. Several riflemen had marked him—had indeed raised their guns, and were in the act of levelling them, when Putnam recognised Major Small, and perceived the imminent danger he was in. A moment longer, and his early friend, with whom he had served in the French war, and for whom he cherished an unfeigned regard, would be in the agonies of death. He sprang upon the parapet, and rushed immediately before the levelled rifles, exclaiming: "My gallant comrades! spare, spare that officer! we are friends; we are brothers. Do you not remember how we rushed into each others' arms, at the meeting for the exchange of prisoners?" The appeal, it needs scarcely be added, was successful. Every rifle was instantly lowered; every bosom glowed with the generous emotions which filled that of the high-souled Putnam; nor was one feeling of regret indulged, as the gallant British officer retired unharmed.
Although repulsed in a second attack, and with losses as signal as unexpected, Howe immediately decided upon renewing the contest. Upon the issue of that day, and the results of this single conflict, he well knew, might hang the fortunes of the British cause in America. If successful, the patriots would become disheartened; if defeated, they would take courage, and continue the controversy with greater animation. With more wisdom, he decided to concentrate his whole force upon the redoubt—and, that his troops might act with greater energy, he directed them to lay aside their cumbersome knapsacks, and, in imitation of the Americans, to reserve their fire, or, if circumstances allowed, to rely upon the bayonet.
Meanwhile, the situation of the Americans had become critical and alarming. They had, indeed, lost comparatively few of their number; but it was discovered, we might almost say to their dismay, that their ammunition was nearly exhausted. They had little prospect of any further supply; they had few, if any bayonets, and, as to rëinforcements, though extremely desirable, and now necessary, they could indulge only slight hopes. They were, however, cheered by the prospect of a rëinforcement of three hundred men at this critical juncture. The regiment of Colonel Gardiner, stationed at Charlestown, although they had received no orders to that effect, that gallant officer volunteered to bring to their assistance. Most unfortunately, however, just as he was descending to the lines, a musket-ball struck him, which soon after proved mortal. In consequence of this untoward event, his regiment became disordered, and but a single company that marched from Charlestown, under command of Captain Harris, participated in the action. It was, however, and well does it attest their patriotic courage, the very last to leave the field.
The history of the American war furnishes many an incident of thrilling interest, and many an instance of heroic bravery and devotion to the cause of liberty: the last moments of Colonel Gardiner may be ranked among the number. On receiving his wound, he was borne from the field by some of his men; when his son, a youth of only nineteen, and a second lieutenant in Trevett's artillery company, rushed forward to his father's aid. On beholding him, said the father: "Think not of me, my son. I am well. Go to your duty!" And the son obeyed, and hastened to his post, while the father was borne from the field to die. Is it a matter of marvel that people should succeed in a struggle where such lofty patriotism fired their bosoms, and, in pursuing which, some of the tenderest and strongest ties of our nature were sacrificed for their country's good?
The British troops, as we said, were again advancing. Without bayonets, with a few charges of powder remaining, the Americans waited in silence to receive them as they were able. Stones and the stocks of their muskets supplied the place of powder and ball. Richardson, a private in the Royal Irish regiment, was the first to mount the parapet; but he fell the next moment. Nearly at the same time, Major Pitcairn, whose insolence and inhumanity at Lexington will not soon be forgotten, appeared upon the parapet, and, as if actuated by a similar spirit now as then, he exultingly exclaimed: "The day is ours!" But here he met a deserved fate; for, while the words still lingered on his lies, a bullet from a musket, fired by a colored man named Salem, pierced his body, and he fell and expired.
While these events were occurring in one quarter, the enemy were more successful in another, the south-east corner of the redoubt. Here a tree had been left standing, and by means of this, General Pigot succeeded in mounting the works; his men followed him; and here, for a brief space, the contest was spirited and sanguinary. Several American officers suffered severely. Colonel Bridge was twice wounded by a broad-sword. Major Gridley received a ball through the leg, and was borne from the field. Lieutenant Prescott, nephew to the colonel, had his arm so broken, as to hang useless by his side; but, nothing deterred by his wound, he continued to load his musket, and was in the act of pointing his gun through the sally-port at the enemy, when he was cut in sunder by a cannon-ball. But now, the sacrifice of life which was being offered upon the shrine of liberty, was accomplishing no good. The Americans could no longer contend with hope, as their ammunition was fairly expended. Prescott was reluctant to yield; but it was wise—it was best. An honorable retreat was still practicable, and he chose this alternative. The Americans retired in order from the hill.
A retreat bore more heavily upon one patriotic spirit than, if possible, upon all others—that one was Warren's. He lingered to the very latest moment—beyond the moment of safety. Nor had he quitted the works, or proceeded but a few rods, when the British were in full possession. Major Small, the British officer whose life Putnam had saved only a few hours before, saw him—surmised his reluctance—perceived his danger—and would have saved him. Addressing him by name, he besought him to surrender, as the only means of security; at the same time ordering his men to suspend their firing. Warren, it is supposed, heard the voice of Small; but whether he would have taken advantage of the proffered safety, cannot be known. He turned his head towards the sound, and at that instant a ball sunk deep in his forehead, and produced instant death.
The day following, the body of this patriot, statesman, and hero, was discovered and identified by Isaac Winslow, (then a youth, afterwards general,) and by several others, who were familiar with his person. The bullet which terminated his life was extracted by Mr. Savage, an officer in the custom-house. Subsequently, he carried it to England; but, years afterwards, it was presented at London to Rev. Mr. Montague, of Dedham, Mass., in whose family it still remains. The remains of Warren were buried on the spot where he fell; but the following year they were temporarily removed to a tomb in the Tremont cemetery. They now repose in the family vault, under St. Paul's church, Boston.
The loss of Warren was among the saddest and bitterest incidents of the day. Few had such aspirations after liberty—few so well understood the true interests of the country, or were better able to suggest measures calculated to secure the triumph of her cause. To the British, the intelligence of his fall was as grateful (considering him in the light of an enemy) as it was unexpected. It is recorded that when on the following morning the news of the event was brought to General Howe, who remained on the field during the night, he would scarcely credit it; and when, at length, it was verified, he declared that "his death was a full offset for the loss of five hundred men."
The battle of Bunker's hill, which we have thus described as minutely as our limits will allow, was of about two hours' continuance, having commenced at three o'clock. The Americans engaged were estimated at about three thousand five hundred. The number killed and missing was one hundred and fifteen; three hundred and five were wounded, and thirty taken prisoners. Of the several regiments, Prescott's suffered the most severely, losing forty-two killed and twenty-eight wounded. Several officers were killed—Colonel Gardiner, Lieutenant-Colonel Parker, Major Moore, and Major Maclary.
The British force engaged in this battle was four thousand. Their loss General Gage, in his official account, acknowledged to be one thousand and fifty-four—two hundred and twenty-six killed; eight hundred and twenty-eight wounded, including nineteen officers killed and twenty-eight wounded. Their loss, according to the official account of the action by the Massachusetts congress, was fifteen hundred.
Charlestown was entirely destroyed. On the retreat of the Americans, the British took possession of Bunker's hill, from which they kept up a fire of artillery during the night. The Americans occupied Prospect and Winter hills.
It was a bold attempt on the part of General Howe to carry the American redoubt by an attack in front; in consequence of this, his troops were exposed to the direct and galling fire of men who were each able to take deliberate aim. A censure was indeed cast upon him for so doing; but a too vain confidence in the bravery and discipline of his soldiers, and an equally mistaken estimate of American valor, led him to reject a plan proposed by General Clinton, and the adoption of one which, had it succeeded, would have secured more honor, but which obviously was so hazardous and doubtful in its issue, as might well have gained for the other the preference.
The night of the 17th of June was one of more sadness to the British than to the Americans, notwithstanding that the latter had been driven from their position, and the colors of the former were waving over Bunker's hill. To the British belonged the field—to the Americans, in effect, the victory. What the former had gained, was of no use to them, as their forces were not sufficiently numerous to hold possession of so extended a line. Their loss in numbers was grievous; but this was small in comparison to the mortification experienced in view of their repeated repulses. Nor was that mortification lessened when it became known that the retreat of the Americans was caused by a want of ammunition. Had the materiel of battle not failed, who can say that the Americans would not have maintained their position?[33]
Such an issue, however, might have drawn after it consequences which, in the sequel, would have been disastrous to the patriotic cause. A vain confidence might have been engendered, leading to the neglect of needful, and even essential preparation, to cope with a foe more formidable at that era, than any other on the globe. It was well doubtless, and Providence in kindness so ordered, it, that ammunition should fail. God gave to the Americans just that success which was calculated to animate and encourage them: and permitted them to suffer just in that way, and to that extent, as to teach them humility, and to trust in Him. Theirs was a just and glorious cause. It was the cause of liberty and of God. It was right that they should succeed; but it was equally befitting that they should feel and acknowledge that their success was from the God of their fathers.
Effects of the Battle of Bunker hill—Meeting of Congress—Appointment of a Commander-in-Chief proposed—Difficulties in regard to a Selection—Claims of Individuals—Interview between John and Samuel Adams—Speech of the former—Washington Nominated—Unanimously Confirmed—Manifesto of Congress—Public Fast.
If, previous to the battle of Bunker's hill, doubts existed in the minds of any, whether the contest between Great Britain and America would be settled without a struggle, the sanguinary scene on that hill must have dispelled them. Both parties had received a wound not likely soon to be healed. If the British had won the field, they had gained but little, if any, honor—and in the repulse, which the Americans had met with, while they had lost no honor, they had acquired self-confidence, and added to their already high-wrought valor and determination.
Messengers spreading news of the Battle of Bunker's hill.
"The battle was fought on Saturday afternoon. Before Sunday night, the intelligence was spread more than a hundred miles distant from the scene of action. All were roused to the highest pitch of resentment, and set about preparing themselves for a long and bloody struggle. Companies were raised and equipped with the utmost dispatch; all hopes of reconciliation were lost. Squads of armed men flocked to head-quarters, some of them having traveled eighty miles in twenty-four hours."
While events of so much importance were occurring in and around Boston, the more immediate theatre of the war, the second general congress were in session in Philadelphia, in deep consultation as to measures which the cause and exigencies of the country required.
Their session had commenced on the 10th day of May preceding. Various matters of interest engaged their attention, and required all their wisdom and firmness. As the war had commenced, it was essential to keep up the zeal of the people—to prevent revolt to the royal standard—to introduce discipline into an army which had been collected in haste—to provide for the growing expenses of a war, the end of which could not be predicted—to prevent, in the conduct of the war, the revival of jealousies which had existed between the different colonies—and, finally, to place the army in the hands of some commander-in-chief, in whom the country could confide, and whose commands the army would cheerfully obey.
The importance of this last duty magnified, the more it was contemplated—and difficulties presented themselves which occasioned no small anxiety and embarrassment. A mistake here might prove fatal to the liberties of the country, for an indefinite period to come.
Upon whom, then, should their choice fall? Gates and Lee were held in high estimation as military men. The first, for his experience; the second, because to experience he joined a very active genius. But they were both born in England, and, in case of misfortune, it would be difficult, however upright and faithful they might have been, to persuade the people that they had not been guilty of treason, or at least of negligence in the accomplishment of their duties. Besides, Lee had an impetuosity of temper, which, in some hour of excitement, might spur him to the adoption of measures inconsistent with the safety of the army, and prejudicial to the interests of the patriot cause. There were also Ward and Putnam, who were already in the field, and who had demonstrated the most signal valor and ability in all the actions which had taken place in the vicinity of Boston. Putnam had seen much service, and, for energy and promptitude, had few equals; but he had declared himself too openly in favor of independence; this, congress devoutly wished to procure, but withal in a propitious time. As to General Ward, New England, it was well known, entertained an exalted opinion of him, and many were strongly wishing and anticipating that the lot would fall on him. He had served in the French war, in which he had acquired an honorable distinction. In addition, he was both a scholar and a gentleman, and the army itself was uncommonly prepossessed in his favor. But besides that he also had openly expressed himself in favor of independence, it was well known that the provinces of the middle, and more so of the south, were in a measure jealous of New England, in which the physical force of the country confessedly predominated, and they would naturally be reluctant to have the cause of America confided to the hands of an individual who might allow himself to be influenced by certain local prepossessions, at a time in which all desires and all interests ought to be common. Nor was it a small desideratum with some of the sages of that era, that the commander-in-chief should himself possess an estate of such value as to offer a guaranty of his fidelity, and elevate him above the sordid and selfish motives of personal gain.
Surrounded by such difficulties, and embarrassed by such opposite considerations, what was to be done? One point was clear,—union must be preserved, at any sacrifice. Union was strength. If in harmonious concert the colonies could not proceed, their doom was sealed. The country, and the whole country, must come in. The pulsation must beat through all hearts. The cause was one, and how many soever bore a part in sustaining and defending it, they must act as impelled but by one motive—and using but a single arm.
To the final question, it had been foreseen for some time, the congress must come. Out of doors, the subject had been considered and debated, but, as yet, no settled opinion had been formed, and no decisive action had been had.
In this anxious and inquiring period, the Father of mercies—that Almighty Being by whose care the colonies had been planted, and hitherto sustained—whose blessing was daily sought by thousands of families, morning and evening—whose guidance the public councils, whether provincial or continental, were never ashamed to implore—that good and gracious Benefactor was not slow in pointing to the man who should lead the armies of his American Israel!
One morning, the elder President Adams was walking in Congress hall, apparently absorbed in thought, when Samuel Adams, a kinsman and a member of congress, approaching him, inquired the subject of his deep cogitation. "The army," he replied; "I am determined what to do about the army at Cambridge." "What is that?" asked his kinsman. "I am determined to enter on a full detail of the state of the colonies, before the house this morning. My object will be to induce congress to name a day for adopting the army, as the legal army of the United Colonies of North America; and, having done this, I shall offer a few hints on my election of a commander-in-chief." "I like your plan, Cousin John," said Samuel Adams; "but on whom have you fixed as this commander?" "George Washington, of Virginia, a member of this house." "That will never do, never, never." "It must do," said John Adams, "and for these reasons: the southern and middle states are loath to enter heartily into the cause, and their arguments are potent; they see that New England holds the physical power in her hands, and they fear the result. A New England army, a New England commander, with New England perseverance, all united, appal them. For this cause, they hang back. The only way to allay their fears, and silence their complaints, is by appointing a southern chief over the army. This policy will blend us in one mass, and that mass will be resistless."
Mr. Adams now went in, and, taking the floor, put forth his strength in the delineations he had prepared, all aiming at the adoption of the army. He was ready to own the army, appoint a commander, and vote supplies. His speech was patriotic, eloquent, and thrilling; but some doubted, some objected, some feared. To all these doubts and hesitations, he replied: "Gentlemen, if this congress do not adopt this army, before ten moons have set, New England will have a congress of her own, which will adopt it, and she will undertake the struggle alone—with a strong arm and a clear conscience." This had the desired effect, and they agreed to appoint a day.
The day was fixed, and came, and the army was adopted. And now followed the question as to a commander. Mr. Adams again rose. He proceeded to a minute delineation of the character of General Ward, according to him merits and honors, which then belonged to no one else; but, at the end of this eulogy, he said: "This is not the man I have chosen." The peculiar situation of the colonies required another and a different man—and one from a different quarter. These qualifications were now set forth in strong, bold, and eloquent terms; and, in the sequel, he said: "Gentlemen, I know these qualifications are high, but we all know they are needful at this crisis, in this chief. Does any one say that they are not to be obtained in the country? I reply, they are; they reside in one of our own body, and he is the person whom I now nominate: George Washington, of Virginia."
At the moment, Washington was intently gazing, as were others, upon Mr. Adams, wrought up by an eager curiosity for the annunciation of the name. Without a suspicion that it would be his own, as it transpired from the lips of the speaker, he sprang from his seat, and rushed from the hall.
Samuel Adams, already in the secret, immediately moved an adjournment of the house, in order that the members might have time to deliberate on a nomination so unexpected and so surprising.
On the 15th of June, two days only before the battle of Bunker's hill, congress convened in the hall to decide the important question. As individuals, they had given to the subject a deep and solemn deliberation, commensurate with its vital importance to the country. Until the annunciation of Washington's name by John Adams, probably no one had even thought of him—but now, but one sentiment prevailed. He was the man, and their ballots unanimously confirmed the choice. The delegates of Massachusetts had other predilections; but, nobly relinquishing sectional claims, and even partialities, they united with the others, and rendered the choice unanimous. That was a happy day—that a fortunate selection for America. And who can doubt that the God by whose providence nations rise and fall, guided that choice, with the same benign influence which was exerted upon the prophet in a prior age of the world, when from among his brethren he selected David as the successor of Saul?
In a few days, following the appointment of Washington, congress published a manifesto, setting forth to the world the causes which had led them to take up arms. After enumerating these causes, in a tone of manly assurance, and yet of humble dependence upon Almighty God, they said:
"Our cause is just—our union is perfect—our internal resources are great—and, if necessary, foreign assistance is undoubtedly attainable. We gratefully acknowledge, as signal instances of Divine favor towards us, that His providence would not permit us to be called into this severe controversy, until we were grown to our present strength, had been previously exercised in warlike operations, and possessed of the means of defending ourselves. With hearts, fortified with these animating reflections, we must most solemnly, before God and the world, declare, that, exerting the utmost energy of those powers, which the beneficent Creator hath graciously bestowed upon us, the arms we have been compelled by our enemies to assume, we will, in defiance of every hazard, with unabating firmness and perseverance, employ for the preservation of our liberties; being, with one mind, resolved to die freemen, rather than to live slaves." Finally, they added: "With an humble confidence in the mercies of the supreme and impartial Judge and Ruler of the universe, we most devoutly implore His divine goodness, to protect us happily through this great conflict, to dispose our adversaries to reconciliation on reasonable terms, and thereby relieve the empire from the calamities of civil war."
The above manifesto was sent into every part of the country, and read from the pulpits by the ministers of religion, with suitable exhortations. In the camps of Boston, it was read with particular solemnity. Major-General Putnam assembled his division, upon the heights of Prospect hill, to hear it. It was followed by a prayer, analogous to the occasion; the general having given the signal, all the troops cried, three times, amen! and, at the same instant, the artillery of the fort fired a general salute; the colors, recently sent to General Putnam, were seen waving with the usual motto "An appeal to Heaven;" and this other, "Qui transulit sustinet." The same ceremony was observed in the other divisions. The joy and enthusiasm were universal.
It may be added, in this connexion, as an evidence of the piety of our fathers—of the belief of a superintending providence, which characterized that generation, that congress recommended a public fast to be observed in all the colonies, on the 20th of July. The soldiers, they recommended to be "humane and merciful;" and all classes of citizens, "to humble themselves, to fast, to pray, and to implore the Divine assistance, in this day of trouble and of peril."
Congress, in a body, attended divine services on that day, in one of the churches of Philadelphia. Just as they were about to enter the temple, important intelligence was received from Georgia. It was, that that province, which had hitherto held itself aloof from the common cause, had joined the confederation, and had appointed five delegates for its representation in Congress. While humbling themselves, God was blessing and exalting them. No news scarcely could have occasioned more joy; and this was heightened, in consideration of the moment at which the government and people were apprised of it.