EVENTS IN BOSTON FROM JUNE TO DECEMBER, 1775
The history of events in Boston after the battle of Bunker Hill is of a
quite different tenor from that which we have just been considering.
From the time when the wounded, and the more distinguished of the dead,
were carried over from Charlestown on the evening of the seventeenth of
June, the sober truth struck home, not yet to the Tories and the common
run of officers, but to the generals. They were in a tight place, from
which it would be difficult to escape with credit.
They might--and some of them did--reckon it out by common arithmetic. If
it cost a thousand men to take a hill, and required another thousand to
garrison it when taken, how much could the British army master of the
rolling country that lay before its eyes? Beyond the exit from either
peninsula the next hill was already fortified, and the Americans
prepared to "sell it at the same price."[128]
The British generals wrote very plainly in explaining the situation to
their superiors at home. To be sure, Gage was a trifle disingenuous in
reviewing the past. While admitting that the recent trials at arms
proved the rebels "not the despicable rabble too many have supposed them
to be," he ignored his original boast concerning lions and lambs. In
stating that in all previous wars the Americans had never showed so much
"conduct, attention, and perseverance," he admitted his ignorance of
colonial history. But Gage was endeavoring to salve his smart and
conceal his own shame.
Burgoyne, with nothing to palliate, wrote very frankly. "Look, my Lord,"
he said to the Secretary of State for the Colonies, "upon the country
near Boston. It is all fortification." His mathematics has been already
quoted; he adds that the army had nothing for transport in an active
campaign of any duration. Proceeding, he delicately points out that Gage
was not the man for the situation, and laments again that the general
had no means of knowing what passed in the American councils, or even
within the American lines.
This is but another proof, if one were needed, of the poor use to which
Church had put his opportunities. Surely he, as Arnold later, sold his
soul to little purpose. Few things in this campaign are more honorable
to America than the fact that Washington's most precious secret, his
lack of powder, though known to many, never came to the ears of the
British generals. One may question if the truth, if told, would have
been believed, for men of Gage and Howe's training could scarcely
suppose a man capable of such daring and dogged obstinacy as to hold his
post before them without powder, or guns, or, as it finally turned out,
almost without men. But no statement has been made that the commanders
heard even rumors of Washington's difficulties.
After Bunker Hill, then, the British generals plainly saw that they
could never campaign successfully with Boston as a base. As to what
should best be done, Gage had no idea; Burgoyne, however, was ready with
a plan. He proposed to keep in Boston as small a garrison, supported by
as small a fleet, as could safely be left, and to send the rest of the
troops and ships to harry the coast. This proposition, if by the vague
term of chastisement he meant the burning of defenceless towns, was
unworthy of Burgoyne; but when later he proposed with this detached
force to occupy Rhode Island, doubtless using Newport as a base, he
outlined a plan which, if followed, would have seriously embarrassed the
Americans. But the advice was not taken, and for months the British
generals contented themselves with wishing they were at New York,
without taking any steps toward going there.
One thing at least they should have done. It will be remembered that
the American occupancy of Bunker Hill had been precipitated by knowledge
of a British plan to take Dorchester Heights. This plan of Gage's was
not abandoned after the battle. It is spoken of in a letter of
Burgoyne's, and is laid down as a part of his scheme to make Boston
secure while his marauding fleet menaced southern New England. We are
even able to suppose that feeble moves toward seizing the Heights were
twice made. Once a couple of regiments, on transports, dropped down the
channel; and once two regiments were withdrawn from Charlestown to
Boston, with various companies from the castle. Lieutenant Barker gives
the reason why in the latter case nothing was done: "the Genl. hearing
that they had got intelligence and reinforced that place with 4000 men."
But this is mere rumor; the Americans had not yet sent any troops into
Dorchester. This leaves us very much in the dark as to why the Heights
were not occupied; but occupied they were not; the plan receives no
further mention, and though from month to month the British watched
Washington seizing posts ever nearer to Boston, they behaved in all
respects as if he were under pledge to avoid Dorchester.
Gage's chief activity was in fortifying. He strengthened his existing
works, and entrenched himself particularly well at Bunker Hill. As the
American redoubt was of little value to the British, they made their
main defence upon the top of the higher hill, and mounted guns to sweep
Charlestown Neck and the country beyond. Little by little both Gage and
his successor strengthened this post, cutting down trees for abatis, and
making advanced posts similar to those at Boston Neck. Before the end of
the siege it was the strongest British post, and Washington knew better
than to molest it, especially when he had a better move to make.
Actual military operations were trifling. In retaliation for an American
attack, on the 30th of July the regulars made a sally from Boston
toward Roxbury, drove in the American advance guard, and burnt a house
or two. The undertaking appears to have been without object, and
resulted in nothing except some harmless cannonading. At other times
armed boats ventured along the Cambridge shore, or tried the rivers,
always to be sent back by the bullets of Yankee sharpshooters. When the
Virginia riflemen appeared, however, there was less of this diversion.
These men, finding themselves debarred from the larger field operations,
resolved at least to get something in return for their long march. So
they set themselves to watch for the appearance of British exploring
parties, and even stalked the sentries. The officers indignantly
complained that this was not war according to rule, but both they and
their sentries took care not to expose themselves. The largest operation
undertaken by the British was at the approach of winter, when early in
November they sent a small force to Lechmere's Point, at a time when a
very high tide had converted the place into an island. They took a few
cows, and lost a couple of men; on retiring they pointed to the American
unwillingness to attack them, but this, as we have already learned, was
on account of the spoiled cartridges.
All these operations, it will be seen, took place practically within the
limits of the Back Bay and its adjacent waters, into which flowed the
Charles River and a few creeks. Once or twice British boats tried to
explore the Mystic, but with the coming of the riflemen that diversion
stopped. When finally the Yankees dragged whale-boats to the Mystic and
Charles, and began building floating batteries on their own account,
British curiosity as to the American shore-line lapsed entirely.
Down the harbor Gage did nothing, except to send, tardily, to repel
American expeditions. We have seen that the British could not save the
lighthouse. The Yankee fishermen now took occasion to remove from the
islands the hay and live stock which they had not taken before Bunker
Hill. Their activities drew from Burgoyne an indignant letter.
"It may be asked in England, 'What is the Admiral doing?'
"I wish I were able to answer that question satisfactorily, but I can
only say what he is _not_ doing.
"That he is _not_ supplying us with sheep and oxen, the dinners of the
best of us bear meagre testimony; the state of our hospitals bears a
more melancholy one.
"He is _not_ defending his own flocks and herds, for the enemy have
repeatedly plundered his own islands.
"He is _not_ defending the other islands in the harbour, for the enemy
in force landed from a great number of boats, and burned the lighthouse
at noonday (having first killed or taken the party of marines which was
posted there) almost under the guns of two or three men-of-war.
"He is _not_ employing his ships to keep up communication and
intelligence with the King's servants and friends at different parts of
the continent, for I do not believe that General Gage has received a
letter from any correspondent out of Boston these six weeks.
"He is intent upon greater objects, you will think,--supporting in the
great points the dignity of the British flag,--and where a number of
boats have been built for the enemy; privateers fitted out; prizes
carried in; the King's armed vessels sunk; the crews made prisoners; the
officers killed,--he is doubtless enforcing instant restitution and
reparation by the voice of his cannon and laying the towns in ashes that
refuse his terms? Alas! he is not."[129]
Burgoyne finishes his indictment by lumping with the admiral's
inefficiencies the weaknesses of quartermaster-generals,
adjutant-generals, secretaries, and commissaries. In all this we catch a
glimpse of one result of the king's policy, which was to reward his
friends and rebuke his enemies. Since he classed with his enemies the
Whigs who were at home, he had only Tories to draw from. From them came
Admiral Graves, and the crowd of incompetents who filled offices in
America. The royal service was now paying the piper.
One result Burgoyne has noted very plainly, in the lack of fresh
provision. The admiral could have protected the stock on the harbor
islands, and without unnecessary violence could have seized provisions
from the shore towns. This, however, he did not do, and we soon find the
army complaining of its fare. It was not that the commissary was
negligent; even the moneyed officers were at times unable to satisfy
their desire for fresh meat, the supply of which was uncertain. For lack
of hay, the milk supply soon disappeared, since cows could not be fed
and had to be killed. Cheerful news came to the American camp that the
venerable town bull had been sold for beef. The army even tired of its
supply of fish, which, to be sure, never was great, though then as now
Boston lay close to good fishing grounds. Salt pork was the main
reliance, and before the middle of the summer the army had had
altogether too much of that.
In consequence of this restricted diet the wounded from Bunker Hill died
in great numbers. Of the wounded American prisoners very few survived.
Some, as Washington heard, were operated on in the common jail, in which
most of them were confined, and where the chances of their recovery were
slight. They fared "very hard," said John Leach, who had opportunity to
know; not one of them survived amputation. As to the rest, there can be
no question that they were badly treated. Their doctor complained that
they had had no bread for two days; the Provost replied "they might eat
the Nail Heads, and knaw the plank and be damn'd."[130] Their more
fortunate fellow-prisoners, who were not taken in arms and who received
food from their families in Boston, sent the Bunker Hill prisoners what
comforts they could bribe the soldiers to take to them; but, says
Leach's diary, "they have no Wood for days together, to Warm their
Drink, and dying men drink them cold." By the 21st of September eighteen
out of twenty-nine prisoners had died in the jail.
Yet even the British wounded showed a high mortality. This was largely
on account of the food, which, although it was the best that was to be
had, was none too good for suffering men. The high death rate was in
part due to the American marksmanship, which caused many body wounds.
What with such wounds, and such food, and the unaccustomed heat, there
were so many deaths among the wounded that it was seriously stated that
the American bullets were poisoned.
There was, then, considerable discontent among the British soldiery. Of
it at one time the Americans took ingenious advantage. When the wind was
setting toward the British lines at Charlestown, the Americans at the
Medford lines scattered handbills that were driven to the British
sentries. On the bills was to be read a comparison intended to increase
British discontent. It ran:--
PROSPECT HILL BUNKER'S HILL
I. Seven dollars a I. Three pence a
month. day.
II. Fresh provisions II. Rotten salt pork.
and in plenty.
III. Health. III. The scurvy.
IV. Freedom, ease, IV. Slavery, beggary,
affluence, and and want.
a good farm.
These handbills thus coming into the hands of the privates were passed
about secretly, until the officers got wind of the device, and
complained to the Americans. The retort was that the British themselves
had already been tempting sentries to desert. This deserting did go on
throughout the siege, from either side, though it would seem as if more
of the British fled from their service. Into whichever lines they went,
the deserters always brought highly colored tales to buy their welcome.
The leaders very soon learned how little reliance could be placed upon
such information. "We ought not to catch at such shadows as that. We
have nothing under God to depend upon, but our own strength."[131]
If the British private was discontented, that was his habit; and though
the officers grumbled as well, they had comparatively little to complain
of. To be sure, the food was coarse, but it was plentiful. Even the
unaccustomed heat would seem comfortable to a Bostonian of to-day. The
marine officers had more pleasant conditions, with their open ports and
harbor breezes, and decks frequently sluiced with water. But the town
itself had no tall buildings or confined spaces; generally speaking, it
was open from water to water, with plentiful shade. Boston in 1775 must
have been as cool as its own summer resorts of the twentieth century.
The Tories, at least, found it bearable. They were accustomed to the
summer heat, and knew themselves much better off than the unfortunate
members of their party who had been unable to escape to the British
lines. Many of the country Tories were confined to their estates, and
forbidden to communicate with each other. "I wish to God," wrote Samuel
Paine, "all our friends were here out of the hands of such Villains."
Compared with such treatment, serenades by thirteen-inch mortars and
twenty-four pounders were apparently trifling--though the ladies did not
think so. One, writing of the skirmish on the night of July 30, spoke of
the "most dreadful cannonading," and "the apprehensions that naturally
seize every one, either of the enemy breaking in, or the town being set
on fire."[132] Even Samuel Paine saw the serious side of the situation.
"These," he asks, "are Governor Hutchinson's countrymen that would not
fight, are they?"
It was because he realized that fight they would, "and like the devil,"
that he and others considered enlisting in the various corps which were
organized in the town. According to Frothingham, who could find no
statistics of the numbers of Tory volunteers, there were at least three
corps formed: the Loyal American Associators under Timothy Ruggles, the
Loyal Irish Volunteers under James Forrest, and the Royal Fencible
Americans under Colonel Graham.[133] According to Samuel Paine, there
was a fourth corps, but it is not named. A commission in one of these
organizations was particularly attractive, as the service was expected
to be short, and at its expiration the officers were to go upon half
pay. Further, the duties were very light, being confined to drilling and
patrolling the town. In the military events of the siege these corps
took no part whatever.
It must be remembered, however, that out of this situation England did
gain some valuable soldiers. The mettle of a few of the Tories was shown
at Bunker Hill, where they went as individual volunteers, and served
with the troops. Others, disdaining the toy-soldiering of their
friends, seized the chance to join the regular army, and fought in it
throughout the war, or until their deaths. Such men were John Coffin,
Leverett Saltonstall, and the two Thomas Gilberts.
Yet men of this quality were few, and at least at this stage of the war
the Tories were of little service to their king. Most of them were
content to wait until the time when the regulars should scatter the
besiegers and conduct the loyalists to their homes. Meanwhile they
enjoyed the society into which they were thrown. "We have here," wrote
Samuel Paine, "Earls, Lords, and Baronets, I assure you Names that Sound
grand." These names did bring to the Tories a fair amount of social
gayety. Mrs. Gage was at the head of her own little circle, not always
enjoyed by those who could not forget her American birth. There were
other groups of ladies who, whether English or Tory, contrived to make
the time pass pleasantly for themselves and for the men. With few
responsibilities, and with confidence in the future, the loyalists had a
pleasant enough summer, and saw ahead of them a comfortable winter.
The situation of the Whigs was not so enjoyable. Before Bunker Hill,
every one of them who could leave Boston had done so. But there were
many of them left, and among them were a number of the more respectable
and prominent of the Whigs. None of them wrote letters, and few indeed
kept diaries; there is, therefore, a notable lack of information
concerning their doings. We do know, however, that they were at a great
disadvantage as against their Tory acquaintances. No privileges of the
commissary were theirs, and no favors were to be had from the military
authorities. When there was fresh meat in the town the Whigs could get
little of it without repudiating their political creed; when the supply
was scant, the Whigs went without. "They even denied us," wrote John
Andrews, looking back upon this period, "the privilege of buying the
surplusage of the soldiers' rations." Even before Bunker Hill he had
written, "It's hard to stay cooped up here and feed upon salt
provisions, more especially without one's wife.... Pork and beans one
day, and beans and pork another, and fish when we can catch it."
Throughout the summer the situation was little bettered. "A loaf of
bread the size we formerly gave three pence for, thought ourselves well
off to get for a shilling. Butter at two shillings. Milk, for months
without tasting any."
There were certain Whigs whose experiences were more grim. To Gage,
always in fear of betrayal to the enemy, there came rumors pointing to
men whose known sentiments, or whose actions, subjected them to
suspicion. Among these were one Carpenter, a barber, who had swum to
Cambridge and back; one "Dorrington, his son and maid, for blowing up
flies"[134]; but particularly John Leach and James Lovell,
schoolmasters, with Peter Edes, printer, and his father's partner, John
Gill. All of these four were obnoxious to the Tories, being outspoken
Whigs and teachers of sedition, whether in their schools or their
publications. One by one they were imprisoned in the common jail, and
held there during various terms. Their treatment was harsh and
ungenerous, held in close neighborhood with felons and loose livers, and
not informed of what they were accused. Leach and Edes kept diaries when
in prison. "From the 2d July to the 17th," writes Leach, "a Complicated
scene of Oaths, Curses, Debauchery, and the most horrid Blasphemy,
committed by the Provost Marshal, his Deputy and Soldiers, who were our
guard, Soldier prisoners, and sundry soldier women, confined for Thefts,
&c.... When our Wives, Children, and Friends came to see us, (which was
seldom they were permitted) we seemed to want them gone, notwithstanding
we were desirous of their Company, as they were exposed to hear the most
abandon'd language, as was grating to the ears of all sober persons."
This Leach suspected to be intentional, but the offensive actions and
words were incessant, especially on Sundays.
On the 17th Leach's son died, "whom I left well in my house"; but he was
not allowed to attend the funeral, nor to be tried, nor dismissed. Three
weeks after he and Lovell had been put in jail they first learned of
what they were accused: Lovell of "being a Spy, and giving intelligence
to the rebels," and Leach of "being a spy, and suspected of taking
plans." Their examination was a farce, the witness against them not
knowing them apart. They were remanded to jail, and lay there until
October. Lovell fell sick, and got a little better food, but no
attention from his jailers--"no Compassion toward him any more than a
Dog." On the same day Leach noted that the Provost "Cursed and Damned my
little Child, for a Damn'd Rebel; he even Trembles at bringing my Diet."
Lovell grew better, and the vexatious treatment continued with petty
tyrannies. At last, although no trial had yet been held, Edes, Gill,
and Leach were released upon sureties of two inhabitants that they would
not leave the town.
Lovell was kept in jail. He was son of Master John Lovell of the Latin
School, in which he was usher until the opening of the war. His frank
utterances had so incensed the authorities that they kept him in prison
until the end of the siege, and then carried him with them to Halifax.
His father was a Tory, and, so far as the diaries of the prison mates
show, made no attempt to visit his son in prison. James Lovell was
exchanged in the summer of 1776.
Through Edes' prison diary, and the brief jottings which pass for the
journal of Timothy Newell, selectman, we get a glimpse of a turncoat.
The incident in which he figures is the only one that caused Newell, who
gave a scant hundred and twenty-five words to Bunker Hill battle, to
write at any length. One John Morrison, formerly minister at
Peterborough, New Hampshire, had been "obliged," says Edes, "to quit his
people on account of his scandalous behaviour." He joined the
provincial army, and is said to have fought at Bunker Hill; but a week
later he joined the British with the usual misstatements of the American
intentions. In the middle of September, Morrison moved for permission to
use for his services the Brattle Street Church, "Dr. Cooper's
Meetinghouse," of which Timothy Newell was a member of the parish
committee. Newell, "with an emotion of resentment," roundly refused to
deliver the key to Morrison and his friends, and made his way into the
presence of the governor, where he stated that Morrison was a man of
infamous character. But the turncoat had respectable backers. Gage
required the key of Newell, and got it; and Morrison held at least one
service in the church. It was to this service, on the 17th of September,
that Edes was conducted, doubtless as a privilege, and heard a political
sermon on the ingratitude of the provincials. Edes remarked that the
Tories present affected to grin, but it was horribly, with a ghastly
smile. The newspapers, however, called it an excellent discourse to a
genteel audience, and announced regular services. Morrison, still
contemptuously styled the deserter, figures again in Newell's diary in
November, when he informed against an old Dutch woman for trying to
carry out of town more money than her permit allowed. His profit on this
was ten dollars. When winter approached, the Brattle Street Church was
taken for use as a barracks, and Morrison got himself a place in the
commissary department, which perhaps was more to his liking than
sermonizing.[135]
The interview with Newell gives us a glimpse of Gage in almost the last
of his troubles with the stiff-necked Bostonians. Less than a fortnight
later[136] he received word from London that the king desired his
presence, in order to consult upon future operations. Probably the
unlucky commander saw in the message the end of his commission, but he
went as one expecting to return. As was customary, he was presented with
adulatory addresses, and on October 10 departed in state. His welcome in
England was not so stately. The king did give him an interview, and
listened attentively to his explanations, but it was popularly suggested
that the unsuccessful general be created Lord Lexington, Baron of Bunker
Hill. Gage's command was not restored to him, and he never again went on
active service.
One legacy indeed he left, perhaps the worst act of his administration
and the most far-reaching, although the personal blame does not lie with
Gage himself. On the 4th of October he sent out a small fleet of vessels
which accomplished more harm than good. It skirmished with privateers,
and eventually, reaching Falmouth, now Portland in Maine, but then in
Massachusetts territory, attempted to levy upon the town. Captain
Mowatt, the commander, picked a quarrel with the inhabitants, and
finding them unyielding, burnt their village. The blame lies between
Mowatt and Admiral Graves, both of whom had grudges against the town on
account of a previous incident. The ministry repudiated the act, but the
fact is undeniable that it was within the spirit of the instructions
given to a later expedition, to "destroy any towns" that would not
submit.[137] The effect on the Americans, however, was very far from
teaching submission. The news of the burning of Falmouth did as much as
any other event to impress the provincials with the impossibility of an
agreement with the king.
In Gage's place now stood Howe, on whom the British hopes centred.
According to the Tory Samuel Paine, Howe united the spirit of a Wolfe
with the genius of a Marlborough. Without prizing him quite so highly,
both the army and the administration looked to Howe for action and
results. It seemed to them that now at last something must happen.
But Howe, though with a willing army at his back, disciplined and well
equipped, did nothing. He strengthened the Charlestown lines and the
fort on Bunker Hill, he improved the defences at Boston Neck, and he
began various batteries on Beacon Hill and the shores of the Common. He
demolished a number of buildings in the north end of the town, in order
to make communication between his posts more direct. But except for the
little expedition across the Back Bay to Lechmere's Point, which netted
a few cows, Howe attempted no offensive operations. As already shown,
the regulars returned from Lechmere's Point as soon as the provincials
assembled in numbers, and no attempt was made to hold the little hill.
Other skirmishes there were from time to time, but these were
insignificant, and they were all.
The fact is that Howe's opinion coincided exactly with those of Gage and
Burgoyne. The country was too strong to be forced, especially since the
Americans had spent a summer on their entrenchments. There was no
profit in taking a rebel fort if the army and its situation were to be
weakened thereby. Howe looked with longing eyes toward New York, took up
Burgoyne's idea of a post in Rhode Island, and believed that if he had
twenty thousand men holding all three positions the rebels would be
beaten. But such an army was not forthcoming, and the question arose
whether he had best stay in Boston or go to New York. In reply to
questions from the ministry, Howe pointed out that he had not a large
enough fleet to convey himself, his stores, and the Tories, from the
place. It was therefore understood that more ships and men should be
supplied him in the spring, and that meanwhile he should go into winter
quarters.
This was done. Buildings in the town were arranged to accommodate the
troops, two of the churches being fitted up for this purpose. The tents
were struck, and the army made itself snug. Howe busied himself with
routine matters of the camp, and refused to budge. Though Washington
first fortified Cobble Hill in Somerville, the nearest he had yet come
to the British posts, and though after that he came a step nearer,
seizing Lechmere's Point, Howe simply fired from cannon, but made no
attempt to storm the works. The cannonading merely inured the Americans
to danger, and seeing that it did them good rather than harm, Howe
presently stopped it. Washington, perhaps not aware of the strength of
his own position, declared himself "unable, upon any principle
whatever," to account for Howe's inaction. He suspected it might be
intended to lull him into a false sense of security, but resolved to be
more vigilant than ever.
FOOTNOTES:
[128] This expression is ascribed to General Nathanael Greene.
[129] Fonblanque's "Burgoyne," 197-198.
[130] Leach's "Journal."
[131] William T. Miller, of Newport, R.I., to his wife Lydia. Mass.
Hist. and Gen. Register, 1855.
[132] Frothingham's "Siege," 230.
[133] _Ibid._, 279.
[134] This obscure diversion caused the Dorringtons to be suspected of
signalling at night to the rebels.
[135] Leach's and Edes' "Journals," N. E. Hist. and Gen. Register, 1865;
Newell's "Journal," Mass. Hist. Soc. Collections, i, series iv;
Frothingham's "Siege," 239; Sabine's "Loyalists."
[136] September 26.
[137] Instructions for Clinton's expedition to the southward.
Frothingham's "Siege," 292.