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.
[Illustration: Putnam saves the life of Major Small.]
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?
[Illustration: Death of Colonel Gardiner.]
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.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[32] Sparks' Life of Warren.
[33] Sparks' Life of Warren.
III. WASHINGTON, COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.
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.
[Illustration: 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."