THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL
John Hancock never showed better in his life than on the morning of the
19th of April. Many times the Tories had tried to win him over.
Hutchinson himself had written: "At present, Hancock and Adams are at
variance. Some of my friends blow the coals, and I hope to see a good
effect." Yet Adams and Hancock were still enlisted in the same cause on
this morning when blood was to be shed. And Hancock, when roused from
his sleep at midnight, was hot with the desire to take his musket and
fight on Lexington Green.
Adams and his friends--among them his sweetheart--dissuaded him. The two
Whig leaders finally took the road to Woburn, and in the succeeding days
passed on to Worcester and Hartford, planned the taking of Ticonderoga,
and, joining the other delegates from Boston, in May met with the second
Continental Congress. If Gage had meant to seize Hancock and Adams, he
had lost his chance. The outcome lay in the hands of the fighting men.
Revere waited at Mr. Clark's house for about half an hour, when Dawes
arrived. The two then set out for Concord, and were joined on the way by
"a young Dr. Prescott, whom we found to be a high son of liberty."[61]
They began to rouse the farmers along the road, and had already gone
halfway when they saw in the road horsemen whom Revere knew at once to
be British officers. Revere and Prescott, blocked in front and rear,
turned into a pasture; but this was a trap where other officers were
waiting. Prescott, knowing the country, put his horse at a fence and got
away; Revere found himself surrounded by six horsemen who, with swords
and pistols ready, ordered him to dismount. There was nothing for him to
do but comply. Dawes, who had been behind upon the road, turned to go
back, and was pursued. He rode into a farmyard, shouted out as to
friends in waiting, and frightened off his pursuers. Both he and
Prescott were useful in spreading the alarm farther.
But Revere was caught. His chief captor examined him, and got slight
satisfaction. "I told him, and added that their troops had catched
aground in passing the river and that there would be five hundred
Americans there in a short time, for I had alarmed the country all the
way up." His anxious captors consulted together, and were conducting him
back toward Lexington, "when the militia fired a volley of guns, which
seemed to alarm them very much." They asked if there were any other road
to Cambridge, took Revere's horse, and left him. He hurried back to
Lexington, to give Hancock and Adams the news that sent them on their
way. Revere himself remained long enough to save a trunk of papers
belonging to Hancock.
Meanwhile the militia of the town, alarmed by Revere, assembled and
waited for the troops. They sent two messengers toward Cambridge to
bring certain news, but each of these blundered into the advancing
regulars, and were seized and held. The militia waited for some hours,
but on hearing no word they were finally dismissed, with a warning to be
ready to come together again instantly. Some went to their homes, some
to the near-by tavern, to finish out the night.
News came at last to Captain Parker that the British were scarcely a
mile away, and in such numbers that his company could not hope to oppose
them. He called his men together, nevertheless, "but only with a view to
determine what to do, when and where to meet, and to dismiss and
disperse."[62] The minute men were still standing in their ranks when
the British suddenly appeared.
The succeeding events caused much controversy at the time. Gage reported
"that the troops were fired upon by the rebels out of the
meeting-house, and the neighboring houses, as well as by those that were
in the field; and that the troops only returned the fire, and passed on
their way to Concord."[63] But in number the little company of minute
men were, according to Revere, who had just passed through them, "about
fifty"; the Reverend Jonas Clark says "fifty or sixty, or even seventy."
Had there been even the two or three hundred of the British reports,
these men, drawn up without protection on an open green, are scarcely
likely to have attacked a force of more than twice their number. The
logic of the situation seems against Gage.
There is one more factor to consider. It is well enough known that both
the British officers, and the Americans as a whole, were under
instructions not to fire, and earnest to obey. But what of the British
privates? Their eagerness for blood at the time of the Massacre was so
great as to account for that tragedy; it was now not likely to be less.
There were even among the troops at Lexington two companies from one of
the "Sam Adams regiments." When we learn from Lieutenant Barker that
after the skirmish "the Men were so wild they cou'd hear no orders," we
may even suspect that, as at the Massacre, the men may have taken
matters into their own hands.
"For," says the minister of Lexington, "no sooner did they come in sight
of our company, but one of them, supposed to be an officer of rank, was
heard to say to the troops, 'Damn them, we will have them!'--Upon this
the troops shouted aloud, huzza'd, and rushed furiously towards our
men.--About the same time, three officers (supposed to be Col. Smith,
Major Pitcairn and another officer) advanced, on horse back, to the
front of the body, and coming within five or six rods of the militia,
one of them cried out, 'ye villains, ye Rebels, disperse; Damn you,
disperse!' or words to this effect. One of them (whether the same, or
not, is not easily determined) said, 'Lay down your arms, Damn you, why
don't you lay down your arms!'--The second of these officers, about
this time, fired a pistol towards the militia, as they were
dispersing.--The foremost, who was within a few yards of our men,
brandishing his sword, and then pointing towards them, said, with a loud
voice, to the troops, 'Fire!--By God, fire!'--which was instantly
followed by a discharge of arms from the said troops, succeeded by a
very heavy and close fire upon our party, dispersing, so long as any of
them were within reach.--Eight were left dead upon the ground! Ten were
wounded."[64]
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON]
This is the best contemporary account which we have of the affair. It is
evident from his careful language and semi-legal terms that the Reverend
Mr. Clark, though not on the ground until half an hour afterwards, took
all possible pains to gather the facts, and considered himself upon oath
in reporting them. He was himself a witness of the exultation of the
troops at their victory, and expresses his indignation.
Tradition gives Major Pitcairn, of the Marines, a prominent part in the
affair. "A good man," says Stiles, "in a bad cause," and adds that had
Pitcairn ever been able to say that he was sure the Americans fired
first, he would have believed him. Honest Major Pitcairn could only
state his belief.
So the first blood in the Revolution was spilt. The death of one of the
Americans, Jonathan Harrington, was pitiful: shot within sight of his
home, he crawled to the door, and expired at his wife's feet. To the
heavy volleys they received, the Americans returned but a scattering
fire; some of them did not fire at all.[65] Two British privates were
wounded, and Pitcairn's horse.
The troops, as soon as they could be marshalled again, fired a volley
and gave three cheers, rested for a little while, and marched on toward
Concord. There, since early morning, had gathered some of the militia
from Bedford and Lincoln, and about sunrise the little company marched
out of town. "We thought," says Amos Barrett quaintly, "we would go and
meet the British. We marched down towards Lexington about a mile or mile
and a half, and we saw them coming." But on seeing their numbers the
militia turned back, "and marched before them with our drums and fifes
going, and also the British. We had grand musick."[66] The provincials
halted once or twice on the hill that ran along the high road, and came
at last to the liberty pole, overlooking the town. "The Yankees,"
records Lieutenant Barker of the King's Own, "had that hill but left it
to us; we expected they wou'd have made a stand there, but they did not
chuse it." The militia, still withdrawing before superior numbers,
retreated across the river, and the British occupied the town.
In place of the five bridges which to-day, within a mile of the
meeting-house, encircle Concord, the town in 1775 had but two. The first
of these was the South Bridge, on the present Main Street route to
Marlborough and South Acton. The other was the North Bridge, on a
highway now abandoned, which in those days led to Acton, Carlisle, and
Bedford. Colonel Smith took possession of both these bridges, and while
his men searched the town for stores, he sent a detachment across the
North Bridge to the farm of Colonel Barrett, where it was known that
supplies had been kept. Of our two British informants of the events of
the day, Ensign Berniere guided the troops that went to the Barrett
farm, Lieutenant Barker remained with a detachment that stayed to guard
the bridge. Meanwhile, on a hillside beyond the river, almost within
gunshot of the bridge, the militia watched the first detachment pass on
its errand, and counted the numbers of the redcoats that held the nearer
side of the passage.
Colonel Smith speedily learned that his journey had been nearly in vain.
As we have seen, already on the night before, without news from Boston,
the removal of the stores had been begun. The alarm brought in by Dr.
Prescott hastened the work. Men and boys, and even women and girls, were
busy in hiding the stores or carrying them away. Some of them were
skilfully secreted under the very eyes of the British. The troops found
little. In the town some few gun-carriages, barrels of flour, wooden
mess-bowls, and wooden spoons were found and destroyed. At Colonel
Barrett's, acknowledges Berniere, "we did not find so much as we
expected, but what there was we destroyed." He was unaware that the
cannon had been laid in a ploughed field, and concealed by turning a
furrow over them, the work continuing even while the troops were in
sight.
Of proceedings in the town we get the best picture from the petition of
Martha Moulton, "widow-woman," who in her deposition "humbly sheweth:
That on the 19th day of April, 1775, in the forenoon, the town of
Concord, wherein I dwell, was beset with an army of regulars, who, in a
hostile manner, entered the town, and drawed up in form before the house
in which I live; and there they continued on the green, feeding their
horses within five feet of the door; and about fifty or sixty of them
was in and out of the house, calling for water and what they wanted, for
about three hours." The neighbors had fled, and poor Mrs. Moulton was
left with "no person near but an old man of eighty-five years, and
myself seventy-one years old, and both very infirm. It may easily be
imagined what a sad condition your petitioner must be in." But she
committed herself to Providence, "and was very remarkably helpt with so
much fortitude of mind, as to wait on them, as they called, with what we
had,--chairs for Major Pitcairn and four or five more officers,--who sat
at the door viewing their men. At length your petitioner had, by
degrees, cultivated so much favor as to talk a little with them. When
all on a sudden they had set fire to the great gun-carriages just by the
house, and while they were in flames your petitioner saw smoke arise out
of the Town House higher than the ridge of the house. Then your
petitioner did put her life, as it were, in her hand, and ventured to
beg of the officers to send some of their men to put out the fire; but
they took no notice, only sneered. Your petitioner, seeing the Town
House on fire, and must in a few minutes be past recovery, did yet
venture to expostulate with the officers just by her, as she stood with
a pail of water in her hand, begging them to send, &c. When they only
said, 'O, mother, we won't do you any harm!' 'Don't be concerned,
mother,' and such like talk." But the widow Moulton persisted, until "at
last, by one pail of water and another, they did send and extinguish the
fire."[67] It is pleasant to know that the courageous old lady received
three pounds for her services, and that the smoke which rose higher than
the Town House served only to give the signal for Concord fight.
All this while the numbers of the militia had been growing. They were
stationed on the slope of Punkatasset Hill, and from minute to minute
squads and companies came in from the neighboring towns. It has been
made a reproach to Concord that so few of her men were there, but they
were engaged in the far more important duty of saving the stores.
Nevertheless, one of her militia companies was on the ground, with those
individuals who were able to hurry back after putting the stores in
safety. The Carlisle and Acton men had joined the waiting provincials,
whose numbers at last became so threatening that the guard at the
bridge, in full sight of them, became uneasy.
The militia became uneasy also. Beyond the bridge, in the town, they saw
more smoke than seemed warranted by merely burning cannon wheels and
spoons. The officers consulted, and Captain Smith, of Lincoln, urged
that the bridge be forced. Davis of Acton, speaking of his company,
said, "I haven't a man that's afraid to go!" The movement was decided
upon, and the militia, in double file, marched down toward the bridge.
The Acton company had the lead, with Davis at its head; beside him
marched Major John Buttrick, of Concord, in command, with
Lieutenant-Colonel Robinson, of Westford, as a volunteer aid. As the
provincials drew near, the British hastily retreated across the bridge,
and their commander awkwardly marshalled his three companies one behind
the other, so that only the first could fire. As some of the soldiers
began to take up the planks of the bridge, the Americans hastened their
march, and presently the British fired. There is no question that they
began the fight, with first a few scattering guns, "up the river," and
then a volley at close range.
The whole was seen by the Concord minister, William Emerson, from his
study in the Manse, close by. For a moment, he records, he feared that
the fire was not to be returned; but he need not have doubted. The
British volley killed the Acton captain, Davis, and Hosmer, his
adjutant. Then Major Buttrick, leaping into the air as he turned to his
men, cried, "Fire, fellow-soldiers; for God's sake, fire!"
"We were then," records Amos Barrett, of the second company, "all
ordered to fire that could fire and not kill our own men." The return
fire, though from the awkward position of double file, was effective.
Two of the British were killed outright, another fell wounded, and the
whole, apparently doubting their ability to hold the bridge, hastily
retreated upon the main body. "We did not follow them," records Barrett.
"There were eight or ten that were wounded and a-running and a-hobbling
about, looking back to see if we were after them."
As reminders of the fight, besides the bridge which Concord, many years
after its disappearance, rebuilt on the centenary of the day, the town
points to the graves of the two soldiers killed in the fight, who were
buried close by. Another memorial is seen in the bullet-hole in the
Elisha Jones house near at hand, at whose door the proprietor showed
himself as the regulars hastily retreated. On being fired at, Jones
speedily removed himself from the scene, and from subsequent history.
There were no further immediate consequences. The Americans crossed the
bridge, and stationed themselves behind the ridge that overlooked the
town; the search-party that had gone to Colonel Barrett's returned.
"They had taken up some planks of the bridge," says Berniere of the
Americans, though the work was done by the British. "Had they destroyed
it, we were most certainly all lost; however, we joined the main body."
Colonel Smith now had his force together, and had done all that could be
done, yet for two hours more he, by futile marchings and
countermarchings, "discovered great Fickleness[68] and Inconstancy of
Mind." The delay was serious; he had earlier sent to Gage for
reinforcements, and he ought now to have considered that every minute
was bringing more Americans to the line of his retreat. When, about
noon, he started for Boston, the situation was very grave.
The British left the town as they had come in, with the grenadiers on
the highway, the light infantry flanking them on the ridge. On this
elevation, above the house he later inhabited, Hawthorne laid the scene
of the duel between Septimius Felton and the British officer. At
Merriam's Corner the ridge ends. Here the flankers joined the main body,
and together noted the approach of the Americans, who had dogged them.
The regulars turned and fired, only to be driven onward by an accurate
response. "When I got there," says Amos Barrett, "a great many lay dead,
and the road was bloody." From that time ensued a scattering general
engagement along the line of the retreat.
In this kind of fighting the odds were greatly with the Americans, as
Gage, with his memory of Braddock's defeat, might have foreseen. The
British complained with exasperation that the militia would not stand up
to them. The provincials knew better than to do so. Lightly armed,
carrying little besides musket or rifle, powder horn and
bullet-pouch,--and all these smaller and lighter than the British
equipment,--the farmers were able with ease to keep up with the troops,
to fire from cover, to load, and then again to regain the distance lost.
Every furlong saw their numbers increase. At Merriam's Corner came in
the Reading company; before long the survivors of the Lexington company
joined the fight to take their revenge; and from that time on, from
north, from south, and from the east, the minute men and militia came
hurrying up to join the chase.
Before five miles were passed, the retreat had degenerated into a mere
rout. "We at first," says Berniere, "kept our order and returned their
fire as hot as we received it, but when we arrived within a mile of
Lexington, our ammunition began to fail, and the light companies were so
fatigued with flanking they were scarce able to act, and a great number
of wounded scarce able to get forward, made a great confusion; Col.
Smith (our commanding officer) had received a wound through his leg, a
number of officers were also wounded, so that we began to run rather
than retreat in order.... At last, after we got through Lexington, the
officers got to the front and presented their bayonets, and told the men
that if they advanced they should die: Upon this they began to form
under a heavy fire." There was, however, no hope for them unless they
should be reinforced.
In the nick of time the succor came. Early in the morning Gage had
received word that the country was alarmed, and started to send out
reinforcements. There were the usual delays; among other mistakes, they
waited for Pitcairn, who was with the first detachment. The relief party
as finally made up comprised about twelve hundred men, with two
six-pounder field-pieces, under Lord Percy. Percy went out through
Roxbury with his band playing Yankee Doodle, and as he went a
quick-witted lad reminded him of Chevy Chase. More than once before
night Percy must have thought of the Whig youngster. He was momentarily
delayed at the Cambridge bridge, where the Committee of Safety had taken
up the planks, but had frugally stored them in full view of the road.
Percy relaid some of the planks and hurried on with his guns, leaving
behind his baggage train and hospital supplies, which were presently
captured by a company headed by a warlike minister. Percy was again
delayed on Cambridge Common for want of a guide; when again he was able
to push on he spared no time, and reached Lexington at the critical
moment. He formed his men into a hollow square, to protect Smith's
exhausted men, who threw themselves down on the ground, "their tongues
hanging out of their mouths like those of dogs after a chase."[69] Percy
turned on the militia his two field-pieces, "which our people," grimly
remarks Mr. Clark, writing after Bunker Hill, "were not so well
acquainted with then, as they have been since." Percy had the
satisfaction, which both Berniere and Barker express, of silencing the
provincials.
He knew too well, however, that the Americans were willing to be quiet
only because they awaited their own reinforcements. Every minute of
delay was dangerous, for now the American military leaders were
gathering. If Hancock and Adams had left the field, Warren hastened to
it. We know some of his sayings as he left Boston. "They have begun
it,--that either party can do; and we'll end it,--that only one can do."
To the remark, "Well, they are gone out," he replied, "Yes, and we will
be up with them before night." Warren probably was present at a meeting
of the Committee of Safety which was held that morning, but his
biographer says: "I am unable to locate him until the afternoon, about
the time Lord Percy's column rescued Colonel Smith's party from entire
destruction, which was at two o'clock."
Warren was no mere adviser. With General Heath he had been planning for
the work of the day, and when, after half an hour's rest, Percy's troops
moved onward, the time came for the measures to be put into effect.
Warren went with Heath to the scene of battle. Yet little could be done
in organized form, at least in the open country, and the minute men
continued to pick off the British. But when the troops were among
houses, and in revenge for their losses began to plunder[70] and burn,
the Americans for the first time began to close in. Many of them fired
from barricaded houses, and were killed in consequence. The Danvers
company, the only one that tried to fight as a body, were caught between
the main column of the regulars and a strong flanking party, and many
were killed in an improvised enclosure. But even without defences the
Americans became very bold, and the fight fiercer. Warren, rashly
exposing himself, had a pin shot out of his hair. Percy, on the other
hand, lost a button from his waistcoat. Nothing can explain the
comparatively slight losses of the British except the rapidity of their
march to safety. As it was, the regulars were almost worn out with their
exertions when they saw ahead of them the hills of Charlestown, and
looking across the Back Bay, might perceive on the slopes of Beacon Hill
half the population of Boston watching their disgrace.
Boston had been in suspense since early morning. All the Whigs had
suspected the meaning of Gage's preparations, and the town was no sooner
astir than the news was abroad that the expedition had started. Next
came word that an officer had come in haste with a message for Gage. At
about eight came news of the death of five men in Lexington. Already
Lord Percy's detachment was parading, waiting for the Marines, who in
turn waited for their absent commander. Thousands of people were in the
street, and even the schoolboys were running about, for Master Lovell
had dismissed his school with the words, "War's begun, and school's
done." Through the day came conflicting rumors. "About twelve o'clock
it was gave out by the General's Aide camps that no person was kill'd,
and that a single gun had not been fir'd, which report was variously
believ'd."[71] Fairly correct accounts of the fight at Lexington began
to come in, embellished with the addition that men had been killed in
the meeting-house. In the afternoon people began to watch from the hills
for the return of the troops, and before sunset the noise of firing was
heard.
Of the three British commanders, Lord Percy was the only one who
displayed any military ability. He showed it in the route which he chose
for his retreat. From Cambridge Common, where at last he arrived, the
road to Boston was long, and was broken by the bridge whose difficult
passage in the morning he remembered. Therefore he avoided it--and
wisely, for the planks of the bridge were up again, and this time in use
as barricades, while the militia were ready for him. Instead, Percy
shook off many of his waylayers, and saved some miles of march, by
taking the direct road to Charlestown. Yet even this route was hard
beset. "I stood upon the hills in town," says Andrews, "and saw the
engagement very plain." Many a Whig exulted as he watched, many a Tory
cursed, at the sight of the weary regulars struggling forward, and of
red figures that dropped and lay still. Percy was barely in time. Had
the men of Essex, whose strong regiment arrived just too late, been
quick enough to intercept them, and resolute enough to throw themselves
across the retreat, it is more than likely that Percy must have
surrendered, for his ammunition was almost gone. The exasperation of the
Americans at losing their prey was later expressed in a court-martial of
the Essex colonel. At any rate, Percy was not headed, and the regulars
at last streamed across Charlestown Neck, to find protection under the
guns of the fleet.
"Thus," grumbles Lieutenant Barker, "ended this expedition, which from
beginning to end was as ill plan'd and ill executed as it was possible
to be.... For a few trifling Stores the Grenadiers and Light Infantry
had a march of about 50 miles (going and returning) and in all human
probability must every Man have been cut off if the Brigade had not
fortunately come to their Assistance."
Speaking for the reinforcing brigade, Lord Percy confessed that he had
learned something. "Whoever looks upon them [the Americans] merely as an
irregular mob will find himself much mistaken. They have men among them
who know very well what they are about, having been employed as rangers
against the Indians and Arcadians.... Nor are several of their men void
of a spirit of enthusiasm, ... for many of them concealed themselves in
houses, and advanced within ten yards to fire at me and other officers,
though they were morally certain of being put to death.... For my part I
never believed, I confess, that they would have attacked the King's
troops, or have had the perseverance I found in them yesterday."[72]
This was the day which Massachusetts now celebrates as Patriots' Day. Of
her sons forty-nine were killed, thirty-nine were wounded, and five were
taken prisoners. Berniere's figures of the British losses are 73 killed,
174 wounded, and 26 missing. The totals, for a day more important, as
says Bancroft, than Agincourt or Blenheim, are very small. But the
significance of the day was indeed enormous. Previously, said Warren,
not above fifty persons in the province had expected bloodshed, and the
ties to England were still strong. Within ten weeks Warren himself had
written of England as "home." After this day there was no turning back
from bloodshed, and no American ever again spoke of Britain by the
endearing name.
And the military situation was entirely changed. In the morning Gage was
still the nominal governor of the province, free to come and go at
will. At night he looked out upon a circle of hostile camp-fires. "From
a plentiful town," says Berniere mournfully, "we were reduced to the
disagreeable necessity of living on salt provisions, and fairly blocked
up in Boston."
FOOTNOTES:
[61] Revere's narrative.
[62] Clark's narrative.
[63] Clark's narrative.
[64] Clark's narrative.
[65] Clark's narrative.
[66] Letter of Amos Barrett, privately printed.
[67] Frothingham's "Siege," Appendix, 369-370.
[68] "Feekelness," Emerson's letter, "Source Book of the American
Revolution," 146.
[69] This quotation from Stedman, himself a British officer, is perhaps
as well known as Revere's midnight remark, already given.
[70] "The plundering was shameful," says Lieutenant Barker indignantly.
See also depositions in Frothingham's "Siege," Appendices.
[71] Andrews Letters.
[72] "Memorial History of Boston," iii, 102.