Mary.Why then, mamma, was the battle called the battle of Bunker Hill?
Mrs. M.Because Bunker Hill was the only one which was distinguished by a name at that time; it was the one, too, which they had intended to occupy, and the battle was fought so near it that it was then designated by that name, which it has ever since retained, and it would be hardly worth while to alter it now.
William.No, mamma, I should think not. I should not like to have the namechanged, for ever since I can remember, I have heard about the battle of Bunker Hill, and the death of Gen. Warren on it, and I should not know what it meant if I now heard of the battle of Breed's Hill, and I do not think I should think at all of him when it was thus spoken of. But I have interrupted you at the most interesting part. Gen. Warren, I think you said, had joined the Americans just as the battle was beginning.
Mrs. M.Yes, he had; the firing had already commenced. Among our commanders the only contention was, who should be foremost at the post of danger. Each was desirous himself to be placed where there was the greatest risk, and, therefore, the greatest honor. So soon as Gen. Warren reached the field of battle, he sought out Gen. Putnam, to request him to point out to him where he should find the most arduous service. As Putnam saw him approach, he exclaimed, "Gen. Warren, I am sorry to see you here: I wish you had left the day to us, as I advised you. From appearances we shall have a sharp time of it, but since you are here, I will receive yourcommands with pleasure." Warren replied, "I come as a volunteer, I know nothing of your arrangements, and will not interfere with them; only tell me where I can be most useful, and there I will go." Putnam, still earnest, if possible, to preserve him from danger, directed him to a particular spot, observing at the same time, "there you will be covered." But this was not what Warren wanted. "Do not think," he earnestly exclaimed, "I come here to seek a place of safety, tell me where the onset will be most furious, it is there I wish to be." Putnam then told him that the post he had pointed out was a most important one. That it was the first wish of the enemy to drive our soldiers from it; that Col. Prescott was there, determined to defend it as long as possible, for upon retaining it depended the fate of the battle. He added, that the probability was, the British would at last gain possession of it, but when it could be defended no longer, it would require great coolness and skill to bring off as many of our soldiers as possible, and retreat with order and regularity. Warren assented to the truthof this, said he would be governed by his opinions, and instantly went to the redoubt or post that was to be defended.
So soon as the soldiers saw him, they welcomed him with loud huzzas. Col. Prescott, as Putnam had before, asked him to take the command; he again refused it, and offered his services as a volunteer, saying, "I am happy to learn service from a soldier of experience."
The battle now commenced most seriously. Our soldiers had, as yet, no time to fortify Bunker Hill, though, if they were beat back from their fort, it was of the utmost importance this should be done; nor had they been able to complete their other works as they wished. It was too late now, for the enemy were already firing on them, unfinished as they were. All that could be accomplished, before the firing began, was for part of the soldiers to take post behind a rail fence, about two hundred and fifty yards in length, which they slightly fortified by placing another fence at a little distance from the first, and filling the space between the two with new mown hay.So soon as the tremendous discharge of cannon from the British began, her troops advanced to attack those stationed at the redoubt and at this fence. Our men were eager instantly to return the fire, but were not permitted to, until the enemy were within eight rods of them. Powder, Putnam told them, must not be wasted. "Do not fire until commanded. You must not fire until you see the whites of the eyes of your enemy, then fire low, take aim at their waistbands. You are all marksmen, and can kill a squirrel at the distance of a hundred yards; reserve your fire and the enemy are all destroyed. Aim at the handsome coats; pick off the commanders." Such were the orders of many of the American officers besides Putnam, as they rode through the lines of the different divisions which were stationed at the fence, and at the redoubt. The redoubt was 150 yards in front of the rail fence. As you may suppose, these instructions came home to the men, and encouraged and animated them, and gave them more confidence in themselves than any thing else that could have been said. Some few,in their eagerness to fire, did not wait the word of command, Putnam drew his sword and declared he would himself cut down the first who should disobey. Gen. Warren was among the most active, cheering the men by his words and actions; he mingled in their ranks, shared all their dangers, and with his musket stood ready to aid them in firing, the moment the enemy were near enough to render it prudent to fire. That moment had come. The British had approached within eight rods of the redoubt. The command was given, they fired, and nearly the whole front rank of the advancing army was destroyed. Another line, and still another, presented itself, and each was in turn levelled with the ground. For a short time there was a pause. The British were retreating. Putnam seized the moment to bring up some reinforcements from Bunker Hill. Howe, the British commander, meanwhile brought his troops once more into order, and was joined by some others from Boston, under the command of Major Small. Again the firing commenced. Our men were obliged to wait until the British were stillnearer than the first. Not until they were withinsixrods were they now allowed to discharge their muskets. When they did, it was with still more deadly effect than before. The flames of Charlestown, to which the British had set fire, urged them on, and rank after rank of officers and men fell before them. The enemy could no longer stand their ground; they retreated once more, and left the field to our brave men. At this moment, Gen. Putnam saw one British officer standing alone, all around him had fallen. Many muskets were levelled at him; in a moment he would have shared the fate of his companions. At this eventful moment, Putnam perceived that it was an old friend and fellow soldier who was about to be destroyed: he rushed to the spot, knocked away the deadly weapons with his sword, and entreated the men to spare one whom he loved like a brother. They could not resist the appeal; the noble and daring generosity of the General excited their admiration and sympathy. His friend was permitted to retire unhurt.
Every thing now seemed to promisesuccess to the cause of liberty. The field was our own. More than a thousand of the enemy had fallen, and a great number of their best officers were slain by our marksmen. But alas! at the very moment in which every thing seemed to smile upon our noble defenders, these defenders found the greatest reason to despair. So soon as they had leisure to look around them, they discovered that their ammunition was expended, their arms almost useless, and scarcely any thing to defend themselves from a renewed attack of the enemy, but the stones which partly formed their fort. Their only hope was, that as the loss of the British had been so great, they would not again make the hazardous attempt to drive them from their entrenchments. In this,their last hope, they were fatally disappointed. Some of the British officers were unwilling to lead their men again to an attack, where certain death seemed to await them, but the greater part of them were determined not to yield the victory torebels, as they still called us. They collected all their strength, and once more advanced to the charge, resolvedto take the redoubt which Gen. Putnam had pointed out to Gen. Warren as our most important point of defence, or perish in the attempt.
Every effort was made by our brave officers and soldiers to preserve this much contested spot; but the little ammunition they had been able to collect was soon exhausted. Even this little had not the effect their former discharges had. The British had learnt wisdom from experience, they approached with more caution, and kept their forces much closer together than before. When no more ammunition could be procured by our officers, stones were resorted to, as the last means of defence. This rather encouraged than repelled the enemy, as it showed they had nothing else to use. At last, in spite of every exertion it was in the power of men to make, who felt they were fighting for their country and their homes, the British gained possession of the redoubt. They were opposed at every step of their advance; the butt ends of the guns which the Americans could no longer fire, were made use of to keep them back; nothingwas left undone. But it was all in vain. As fast as one party was beaten off, another would approach. All that our officers had now to do, was to endeavor to retreat with the men who yet remained, with as little loss as possible. This was done with the same bravery and skill they had displayed through the whole battle. Gen. Warren was the last to quit his post. He animated the men to the most desperate actions. With his own sword he cut down all who were around him. Every inch of ground which they relinquished, he considered as an indelible disgrace. To give up all they had toiled so hard to gain, to see the oppressors of his country in possession of a spot strewed with the bodies, and wet with the blood of those who had fought so nobly in her defence, was more than Warren could support. He felt that the liberties of that country had received their death blow, and life was now of no value to him. He slowly followed his countrymen, when he found they must yield, and disdained to quicken his steps, although the balls of the enemy were whizzing around him. There were some among hisgallant opponents who would gladly have preserved his life, had it been in their power; among these was Major Small, the same officer who had been rescued by Putnam from a similar fate. He perceived Gen. Warren thus moving slowly on, regardless of, or rather seeming to court death. He called upon him for God's sake to stop, and take refuge with him from certain destruction. Warren turned and looked at him, but, too sick at heart to answer him, still kept on his perilous way, in full sight of his enemies. Small then ordered his men not to fire on him, but it was too late, they had seen him, and, before the command was heard, had fired. He was only about eighty rods from the redoubt he had defended so nobly, when the fatal ball reached him, passed through his head, and killed him instantly.
William.Oh how sorry I am! Why could not Major Small have spoken a little quicker, and kept his men from firing, as Putnam did when our men were about to fire on him?
Mrs. M.He no doubt did all he could topreserve him, but a higher power than his directed the ball which thus deprived our country of one of her most enthusiastic defenders, and in one of her darkest moments. He was taken, too, before his eyes were allowed a glimpse of that brilliant light of liberty which afterwards shone so brightly upon his country, and for whose first rays he had so anxiously watched. He fell in the prime of life, a glorious sacrifice for his beloved country.
Mary.How old was he, dear mother?
Mrs. M.He was only thirty-four years of age.
William.What became of his body, mamma? I hope the British did not have it.
Mrs. M.His body lay, with a great many others, all night on the field of battle. In the morning a young man, by the name of Winslow, saw it, and, disfigured as it was, knew it; he went immediately and told Gen. Howe that Gen. Warren was among the slain on Bunker Hill. Howe would not at first believe it. He said it was impossible that the President of Congress should have been suffered to expose himself in such a perilousencounter. Dr. Jeffries, who was afterwards for many years a physician in Boston, and whose son now practises here, was then a surgeon in the British service. He was at this time on the field, dressing the wounded among the English, and those among the American prisoners. Howe inquired if he knew Warren; he said he did, and, so soon as he saw the body, declared it to be his. He told Gen. Howe that Gen. Warren had, only five days previous, with his accustomed fearlessness of danger, ventured in a small canoe to Boston, that he might himself gather information of the designs of the enemy; and that he had at the same time urged him (Dr. Jeffries) to return with him, and act as surgeon to the Americans. Howe no longer doubted that his formidable adversary was extended powerless at his feet. Though too noble himself not to lament the early fate of such a mind, yet he declared that this one victim was worth five hundred of their own men, in which he was joined by all who heard him. In the pocket of Gen. Warren was found a prayer book with his name in it, which wouldfrom the first have decided, beyond doubt, that it was indeed Gen. Warren who lay there among friends and foes; but it was not seen at that time. The probability is, that it was plundered from his pocket by some of those wretches who generally remain on the field where a battle has been fought, in order to get what they can from the dying and the dead.
Mary.How was it known that it had been taken from him, dear mother?
Mrs. M.Some time after, when the war was over, and the British officers and soldiers had gone back to England, one of these soldiers showed this book to an English minister, whose name was Samuel Wilton. This gentleman knew that a book of this kind, found on the body of so eminent a man as Warren, would be highly valued by every American, and that it would be more especially gratifying to his immediate relatives to have such a relic of him; one which showed that when he went forth to fight for his country, his trust was not in his own arm alone, but that he looked up to a higher power for support. Mr. Wilton,therefore, offered the man a great price for it, who very gladly sold it to him. He then sent it to America, and had it put into the hands of a minister of Roxbury, the Rev. Dr. Gordon—with a request that it might be given to his nearest relative. It was accordingly given to his youngest brother, Dr. John Warren, March 15th, 1778. This was about three years after Gen. Warren's death.
Mary.I think it was very kind in that English minister to take so much trouble. Was not the book almost worn out by the man who had it all that time?
Mrs. M.No, it was in very good preservation. I suppose the man took good care of it, thinking he might sometime get a great price for it. It is even now a handsome book, the binding is as nice as ever. The type is so clear, that is, it was so well printed, that it can be read with great ease, although printed so long ago as the year 1559; which was but a little more than an hundred years after the art of printing was discovered: so that it is valuable for its antiquity, as well as from having belonged to a departed hero.
William.Where is it now, mamma?
Mrs. M.Gen. Warren's nephew, the present Dr. John C. Warren, has it. He also has the oration which Gen. Warren delivered on the 5th of March, in the orator's own hand-writing.
William.You have not yet told us, mamma, what became of the body of the general?
Mrs. M.It was buried near where he fell, with many other bodies, both English and American. Some time after, his friends took it up and placed it in a tomb in the Tremont burying-ground, and finally the bones were removed to the family tomb under St. Paul's church.
William.Would not the British let his friends have it to bury at first, dear mother?
Mrs. M.I presume they would, had any of them demanded it in time: but these friends could not ascertain where he was, nor did they know for a certainty of his death, until after he was buried. The youngest brother, of whom I have spoken so often, Dr. John Warren, was at the time of the battle,in full practice, as a physician, in Salem. So soon as he heard there was likely to be an engagement in Charlestown, he armed himself, and set out on foot for that place. He went on as rapidly as he could, he saw the town of Charlestown in flames, and was lighted on his way by its burning glare, but could not ascertain, for some time, if there had yet been any fighting. At last he was informed that there had been a severe engagement. His impatience to be on the spot, and his anxiety to know where his brother Joseph was, became now almost insupportable. He had studied his profession with that brother, and knew his ardent character so well, that he felt confident he would be among the combatants; he felt, too, that no danger, no thought for himself, would keep him back from the hottest of the fray; he was eager to be with him, to share his danger if he could not guard him from it. Notwithstanding his impatience, he could learn nothing certain about him; he determined to penetrate to the field of battle at all risks. As he attempted to pass a sentinel, on his way, he was repulsed by him with the pointof a bayonet, which gave him so deep a wound, that he carried the scar from it as long as he lived. Still he pushed on, and at last ascertained that his brother was in the engagement, and that he was either killed or taken prisoner. His character was quite as enthusiastic as that of his brother, and he now earnestly entreated to be allowed to join the army as a volunteer: to avenge his brother's death, or, if he was not killed, to effect his release, was now his most fervent wish. This request was refused. His services were needed elsewhere. The poor fellows who had been wounded in the battle were even now suffering from the want of surgical assistance. Dr. John Warren, although then only twenty-four years of age, had already acted as surgeon at the battle of Lexington. His skill, therefore, as a surgeon, was too well known to allow Congress to accept his services in any other way. With a heart aching at the uncertainty attending a beloved brother's fate, he had to fulfil the duties of the office assigned him. This post, of hospital surgeon, he retained during the rest of the war.
His mother was almost distracted with the suspense in which she was kept respecting her first-born son. Although from the first she had said she was sure he would fall a sacrifice to the cause he had espoused so warmly, yet now she could not believe that such had been his fate. It was three days after the battle, before certain intelligence was obtained of his death. When his mother first realized that she should see him no more, she was entirely overwhelmed with her affliction. He was her eldest son; after the death of her husband, she had looked to him as her principal solace and support. He was all her fondest hopes could wish. Honor, respect and love, had attended him in every step of his career; and now, just as he had attained to all the honors his country could bestow, he was taken away, and she had not even the melancholy satisfaction of embalming his body with her tears. For a time she refused to be comforted; but ere long, that religion which had comforted her in all her former afflictions, exerted its healing power over her wounded spirit, and though she still sorrowed, it wasnot without hope. The memory of this much loved son was fondly cherished by her to the end of her life. Every anniversary of his death was kept by her as a day of fasting and prayer, and her hospitable house was closed to all but the poor.
His eldest and youngest brothers were present when his body was disinterred. So soon as the youngest brother, Dr. John Warren, saw that it was indeed the body of his respected preceptor and much loved friend and brother, that was thus taken from the recesses of the grave to receive the last tribute of affection, his emotion was so great as to entirely overpower him, he dropped motionless by the side of him he so deeply mourned, and it was some time before consciousness was restored again.
William.How did his brothers know it was his body, mamma? I should think, if it had been buried some time, it would not have been possible for them to have been sure it was his.
Mrs. M.They knew his clothes, for he was buried just as he fell; besides this, he hadlost a finger nail and wore an artificial tooth, so that he was identified beyond doubt.
His country also deeply mourned his untimely loss. In the official account of the battle, drawn up by the Massachusetts Congress, it is stated; "Among the dead was Maj. Gen. Joseph Warren, a man whose memory will be endeared to his countrymen, and to the worthy in every part and age of the world, as long as valor shall be esteemed among mankind."
Within a year after his death, it was resolved by Congress that there should be a monument erected to his memory, "as an acknowledgment of his virtues and distinguished services." Congress also resolved, that from that time his eldest son should be educated at the expense of the United States. Two or three years after, it was determined that the three younger children should likewise be supported and educated at the public expense, until the youngest child should be of age.
Mary.Indeed, mamma, did Gen. Warren have four children? I did not know he was married.
Mrs. M.Yes, my dear, he left four orphans. His wife, who was a very excellent, amiable woman, died three years before his death, so that when he was killed, the poor children were left without father or mother.
William.Who took care of them, dear mother?
Mrs. M.Dr. John Warren took them home soon after he himself was married, and they lived with him many years.
Mary.Did the United States support them, as was resolved?
Mrs. M.Yes. Their uncle, Dr. Warren, was just getting into business in Boston, for he left Salem soon after the war commenced; he was at that time not able to do more than support his own family, and unless the board of his brother's children had been paid, he could not have kept them. The eldest son was fitted for, and carried through college, but he died a few years after he came out. The second son, too, died soon after he became of age. The other two children were daughters. The eldest married Gen. Arnold Welles, of whom you have often heard mespeak; he was a man beloved and respected by all who knew him. This eldest daughter of Gen. Warren's, was a very beautiful woman, but she has been dead many years. The second daughter, who was also a very handsome woman, was twice married. Her last husband was Judge Newcombe, of Greenfield. She has been dead some years, and has left one son, Warren Newcombe, who is practising law in this State. He is the only immediate descendant of Gen. Warren. I believe, my children, I have now told you all I can about our friend Joseph Warren. Are you not tired of hearing about him?
Mary.Oh, no, dear mother, I am not, I wish you could tell us a great deal more.
William.So do I, mamma. We are much obliged to you for telling us so much. How long did the war last after Gen. Warren was killed?
Mrs. M.It lasted about six years, but peace was not finally concluded until the year 1783; that was eight years after his death. Parley's Geography tells you the time when the fighting ceased, and when a treaty ofpeace was signed between Great Britain and our country. Do you not recollect it?
William.Yes, mamma, I do now, but I cannot remember dates very well.
Mrs. M.You must soon read larger books about the Revolution, and then you will remember better. There are a great many anecdotes of things which took place during the war, which are quite as interesting as any books of tales you can find. In the Appendix to Dr. Thacher's Journal of the Revolution, there are some very interesting facts related; but you ought to read the whole book so soon as you are old enough to take an interest in it. There are, too, a great many other books you ought to read, to make you acquainted with the many great and good men, who fought and bled in their country's cause. It is not possible to know how much we owe them, and especially how much we owe to Gen. Washington, unless we read books which enter into all the particulars of what was done and suffered by them, and by him through the whole of the war.
DELIVERED IN BOSTON, MARCH 6, 1775,
BY
DR. JOSEPH WARREN,
IN COMMEMORATION OF THE EVENING OF THEFIFTH OF MARCH, 1770; WHEN A NUMBEROF CITIZENS WERE KILLED BY A PARTYOF BRITISH TROOPS, QUARTEREDAMONG THEM IN A TIMEOF PEACE.
MY EVER HONORED FELLOW CITIZENS,
It is not without the most humiliating conviction of my want of ability that I now appear before you; but the sense I have of the obligation I am under to obey the calls of my country at all times, together with an animating recollection of your indulgence, exhibited upon so many occasions, has induced me, once more, undeserving as I am, to throw myself upon that candor which looks with kindness on the feeblest efforts of an honest mind.
You will not now expect the elegance, the learning, the fire, the enrapturing strains of eloquence which charmed you when aLovell, aChurch, or aHancockspake; but you will permit me to say, that with a sincerity, equal to theirs, I mourn over my bleeding country: with them I weep at her distress, and with them deeply resent the many injuries she has received from the hands of cruel and unreasonable men.
That personal freedom is the natural right of every man; and that property, or an exclusive right to dispose of what he has honestly acquired by his own labor, necessarily arises therefrom, are truths which common sense has placed beyond the reach of contradiction. And no man, or body of men can, without being guilty of flagrant injustice, claim a right to dispose of the persons or acquisitions of any other man, or body of men, unless it can be proved that such a right has arisen from some compact between the parties in which it has been explicitly and freely granted.
If I may be indulged in taking a retrospective view of the first settlement of our country, it will be easy to determine with what degree of justice the late Parliament of Great Britain have assumed the power of giving away thatproperty which the Americans have earned by their labor.
Our fathers having nobly resolved never to wear the yoke of despotism, and seeing the European world, at that time, through indolence and cowardice, falling a prey to tyranny, bravely threw themselves upon the bosom of the ocean, determined to find a place in which they might enjoy their freedom, or perish in the glorious attempt. Approving Heaven beheld the favorite ark dancing upon the waves, and graciously preserved it until the chosen families were brought in safety to these western regions. They found the land swarming with savages, who threatened death with every kind of torture. But savages, and death with torture, were far less terrible than slavery: nothing was so much the object of their abhorrence as a tyrant's power: they knew that it was more safe to dwell with man in his most unpolished state, than in a country where arbitrary power prevails. Even anarchy itself, that bugbear held up by the tools of power, (though truly to be deprecated) is infinitely less dangerous to mankind than arbitrary government. Anarchy can be but of short duration; for when men are at liberty to pursue that course which ismost conducive to their own happiness, they will soon come into it, and from the rudest state of nature, order and good government must soon arise. But tyranny, when once established, entails its curses on a nation to the latest period of time; unless some daring genius, inspired by Heaven, shall, unappalled by danger, bravely form and execute the arduous design of restoring liberty and life to his enslaved, murdered country.
The tools of power, in every age, have racked their inventions to justify the few in sporting with the happiness of the many; and, having found their sophistry too weak to hold mankind in bondage, have impiously dared to force religion, the daughter of the king of heaven, to become a prostitute in the service of hell. They taught that princes, honored with the name of Christian, might bid defiance to the founder of their faith, might pillage Pagan countries and deluge them with blood, only because they boasted themselves to be the disciples of that teacher who strictly charged his followers to do to others as they would that others should do unto them.
This country, having been discovered by an English subject, in the year 1620, was(according to the system which the blind superstition of those times supported) deemed the property of the crown of England. Our ancestors, when they resolved to quit their native soil, obtained from king James, a grant of certain lands in North America. This they probably did to silence the cavils of their enemies, for it cannot be doubted, but they despised the pretended right which he claimed thereto. Certain it is, that he might, with equal propriety and justice, have made them a grant of the planet Jupiter. And their subsequent conduct plainly shows that they were too well acquainted with humanity, and the principles of natural equity, to suppose that the grant gave them any right to take possession; they, therefore, entered into a treaty with the natives, and bought from them the lands: nor have I ever yet obtained any information that our ancestors ever pleaded, or that the natives ever regarded the grant from the English crown: the business was transacted by the parties in the same independent manner that it would have been, had neither of them ever known or heard of the island of Great Britain.
Having become the honest proprietors of the soil, they immediately applied themselves to thecultivation of it; and they soon beheld the virgin earth teeming with richest fruits, a grateful recompense for their unwearied toil. The fields began to wave with ripening harvests, and the late barren wilderness was seen to blossom like the rose. The savage natives saw with wonder the delightful change, and quickly formed a scheme to obtain that by fraud or force, which nature meant as the reward of industry alone. But the illustrious emigrants soon convinced the rude invaders, that they were not less ready to take the field for battle than for labor: and the insidious foe was driven from their borders as often as he ventured to disturb them. The crown of England looked with indifference on the contest; our ancestors were left alone to combat with the natives. Nor is there any reason to believe, that it ever was intended by the one party, or expected by the other, that the grantor should defend and maintain the grantees in the peaceable possession of the lands named in the patents. And it appears plainly, from the history of those times, that neither the prince, nor the people of England, thought themselves much interested in the matter. They had not then any idea of a thousandth part of those advantageswhich they since have, and we are most heartily willing they should continue to reap from us.
But when, at an infinite expense of toil and blood, this widely extended continent had been cultivated and defended: when the hardy adventurers justly expected that they and their descendants should peaceably have enjoyed the harvest of those fields which they had sown, and the fruit of those vineyards which they had planted; this country was then thought worthy the attention of the British ministry; and the only justifiable and only successful means of rendering the Colonies serviceable to Britain were adopted. By an intercourse of friendly offices, the two countries became so united in affection, that they thought not of any distinct or separate interests, they found both countries flourishing and happy. Britain saw her commerce extended, and her wealth increased; her lands raised to an immense value; her fleets riding triumphant on the ocean; the terror of her arms spreading to every quarter of the globe. The Colonist found himself free, and thought himself secure; he dwelt under his own vine, and under his own fig-tree, and had none to make him afraid: he knew, indeed, that by purchasing the manufactures ofGreat Britain, he contributed to its greatness: he knew that all the wealth that his labor produced centered in Great Britain: but that, far from exciting his envy, filled him with the highest pleasure; that thought supported him in all his toils. When the business of the day was past, he solaced himself with the contemplation, or perhaps entertained his listening family with the recital of some great, some glorious transaction which shines conspicuous in the history of Britain: or, perhaps, his elevated fancy led him to foretell, with a kind of enthusiastic confidence, the glory, power, and duration of an empire which should extend from one end of the earth to the other: he saw, or thought he saw, the British nation risen to a pitch of grandeur which cast a veil over the Roman glory, and, ravished with the preview, boasted a race of British kings, whose names should echo through those realms where Cyrus, Alexander, and the Cæsars were unknown; princes for whom millions of grateful subjects redeemed from slavery and Pagan ignorance, should, with thankful tongues, offer up their prayers and praises to that transcendently great and beneficent Being, by whom kings reign, and princes decree justice.
These pleasing connexions might have continued; these delightsome prospects might have been every day extended; and even the reveries of the most warm imagination might have been realized; but unhappily for us, unhappily for Britain, the madness of an avaricious minister of state, has drawn a sable curtain over the charming scene, and in its stead, has brought upon the stage, discord, envy, hatred, and revenge, with civil war close in their rear.
Some demon, in an evil hour, suggested to a short-sighted financier, the hateful project of transferring the whole property of the king's subjects in America, to his subjects in Britain. The claim of the British Parliament to tax the Colonies, can never be supported by such aTRANSFER; for the right of the House of Commons of Great Britain, to originate any tax, or grant money, is altogether derived from their being elected by the people of Great Britain to act for them; and the people of Great Britain cannot confer on their representatives a right to give or grant any thing which they themselves have not a right to give or grant personally. Therefore, it follows, that if the members chosen by the people of Great Britain, to represent them in Parliament, have, by virtueof their being so chosen, any right to give or grant American property, or to lay any tax upon the lands or persons of the Colonists, it is because the lands and people in the Colonies are bona fide, owned by, and justly belonging to the people of Great Britain. But, (as has been before observed,) every man has a right to personal freedom, consequently, a right to enjoy what is acquired by his own labor. And as it is evident that the property in this country has been acquired by our own labor, it is the duty of the people of Great Britain, to produce some compact in which we have explicitly given up to them a right to dispose of our persons or property. Until this is done, every attempt of theirs, or of those whom they have deputed to act for them, to give or grant any part of our property, is directly repugnant to every principle of reason and natural justice. But I may boldly say, that such a compact never existed, no, not even in imagination. Nevertheless, the representatives of a nation, long famed for justice and the exercise of every noble virtue, have been prevailed on to adopt the fatal scheme: and although the dreadful consequences of this wicked policy have already shaken the empire to its centre; yet still it is persistedin. Regardless of the voice of reason, deaf to the prayers and supplications, and unaffected with the flowing tears of suffering millions, the British ministry still hug the darling idol; and every rolling year affords fresh instances of the absurd devotion with which they worship it. Alas! how has the folly, the distraction of the British councils, blasted our swelling hopes, and spread a gloom over this western hemisphere.
The hearts of Britons and Americans, which lately felt the generous glow of mutual confidence and love, now burn with jealousy and rage. Though, but of yesterday, I recollect (deeply affected at the ill boding change) the happy hours that past whilst Britain and America rejoiced in the prosperity and greatness of each other, (Heaven grant those halcyon days may soon return.) But now the Briton too often looks on the American with an envious eye, taught to consider his just plea for the enjoyment of his earnings, as the effect of pride and stubborn opposition to the parent country. Whilst the American beholds the Briton as the ruffian, ready first to take away his property, and next, what is still dearer to every virtuous man, the liberty of his country.
When the measures of administration had disgusted the Colonies to the highest degree, and the people of Great Britain had, by artifice and falsehood, been irritated against America, an army was sent over to enforce submission to certain acts of the British Parliament, which reason scorned to countenance, and which placemen and pensioners were found unable to support.
Martial law and the government of a well regulated city, are so entirely different, that it has always been considered as improper to quarter troops in populous cities: frequent disputes must necessarily arise between the citizen and the soldier, even if no previous animosities subsist. And it is further certain, from a consideration of the nature of mankind, as well as from constant experience, that standing armies always endanger the liberty of the subject. But when the people, on the one part, considered the army as sent to enslave them, and the army, on the other, were taught to look on the people as in a state of rebellion, it was but just to fear the most disagreeable consequences. Our fears, we have seen, were but too well grounded.
The many injuries offered to the town, Ipass over in silence. I cannot now mark out the path which led to that unequalled scene of horror, the sad remembrance of which, takes the full possession of my soul. The sanguinary theatre again opens itself to view. The baleful images of terror crowd around me, and discontented ghosts, with hollow groans, appear to solemnize the anniversary of theFIFTH OF MARCH.
Approach we then the melancholy walk of death. Hither let me call the gay companion; here let him drop a farewell tear upon that body which so late he saw vigorous and warm with social mirth; hither let me lead the tender mother to weep over her beloved son: come, widowed mourner, here satiate thy grief; behold thy murdered husband gasping on the ground, and to complete the pompous show of wretchedness, bring in each hand thy infant children to bewail their father's fate: take heed, ye orphan babes, lest, whilst your streaming eyes are fixed upon the ghastly corpse, your feet slide on the stones bespattered with your father's brains.[4]Enough! this tragedyneed not be heightened by an infant weltering in the blood of him that gave it birth. Nature, reluctant, shrinks already from the view, and the chilled blood rolls slowly backward to its fountain. We wildly stare about, and with amazement, ask, who spread this ruin round us? What wretch has dared deface the image of his God? Has haughty France, or cruel Spain, sent forth her myrmidons? Has the grim savage rushed again from the far distant wilderness? Or does some fiend, fierce from the depth of hell, with all the rancorous malice, which the apostate damned can feel, twang her destructive bow, and hurl her deadly arrows at our breast? No, none of these; but, how astonishing! It is the hand of Britain that inflicts the wound. The arms of George, our rightful king, have been employed to shed that blood, when justice, or the honor of his crown, had called his subjects to the field.
But pity, grief, astonishment, with all the softer movements of the soul, must now give way to stronger passions. Say, fellow citizens, what dreadful thought now swells your heaving bosoms; you fly to arms, sharp indignation flashes from each eye, revenge gnashes heriron teeth, death grins an hideous smile, secure to drench his greedy jaws in human gore, whilst hovering furies darken all the air.
But stop, my bold adventurous countrymen, stain not your weapons with the blood of Britons. Attend to reason's voice, humanity puts in her claim, and sues to be again admitted to her wonted seat, the bosom of the brave. Revenge is far beneath the noble mind. Many, perhaps, compelled to rank among the vile assassins, do, from their inmost souls, detest the barbarous action. The winged death, shot from your arms, may chance to pierce some breast that bleeds already for your injured country.
The storm subsides; a solemn pause ensues; you spare, upon condition they depart. They go; they quit your city; they no more shall give offence. Thus closes the important drama.
And could it have been conceived that we again should have seen a British army in our land, sent to enforce obedience to acts of Parliament destructive of our liberty. But the royal ear, far distant from this western world, has been assaulted by the tongue of slander; and villains, traitorous alike to king andcountry, have prevailed upon a gracious prince to clothe his countenance with wrath, and to erect the hostile banner against a people ever affectionate and loyal to him and his illustrious predecessors of the house of Hanover. Our streets are again filled with armed men; our harbor is crowded with ships of war; but these cannot intimidate us; our liberty must be preserved; it is far dearer than life, we hold it even dear as our allegiance; we must defend it against the attacks of friends as well as enemies; we cannot suffer even Britons to ravish it from us.
No longer could we reflect, with generous pride, on the heroic actions of our American forefathers, no longer boast our origin from that far famed island, whose warlike sons have so often drawn their well tried swords to save her from the ravages of tyranny; could we, but for a moment, entertain the thought of giving up our liberty. The man who meanly will submit to wear a shackle, contemns the noblest gift of Heaven, and impiously affronts the God that made him free.
It was a maxim of the Roman people, which eminently conduced to the greatness of thatstate, never to despair of the commonwealth. The maxim may prove as salutary to us now, as it did to them. Short-sighted mortals see not the numerous links of small and great events, which form the chain on which the fate of kings and nations is suspended. Ease and prosperity (though pleasing for a day) have often sunk a people into effeminacy and sloth. Hardships and dangers (though we forever strive to shun them) have frequently called forth such virtues, as have commanded the applause and reverence of an admiring world. Our country loudly calls you to be circumspect, vigilant, active, and brave. Perhaps, (all gracious Heaven avert it) perhaps the power of Britain, a nation great in war, by some malignant influence, may be employed to enslave you: but let not even this discourage you. Her arms, it is true, have filled the world with terror: her troops have reaped the laurels of the field: her fleets have rode triumphant on the sea—and when, or where, did you, my countrymen, depart inglorious from the field of fight?[5]You, too, can show the trophies ofyour forefather's victories and your own; can name the fortresses and battles you have won; and many of you count the honorable scars or wounds received, whilst fighting for your king and country.
Where justice is the standard, Heaven is the warrior's shield: but conscious guilt unnerves the arm that lifts the sword against the innocent. Britain, united with these Colonies by commerce and affection, by interest and blood, may mock the threats of France and Spain; may be the seat of universal empire. But should America, either by force, or those moredangerous engines, luxury and corruption, ever be brought into a state of vassalage, Britain must lose her freedom also. No longer shall she sit the empress of the sea: her ships no more shall waft her thunders over the wide ocean: the wreath shall wither on her temples: her weakened arm shall be unable to defend her coasts: and she, at last, must bow her venerable head to some proud foreigner's despotic rule.
But if, from past events, we may venture to form a judgment of the future, we justly may expect that the devices of our enemies will but increase the triumphs of our country. I must indulge a hope that Britain's liberty, as well as ours, will eventually be preserved by the virtue of America.
The attempt of the British Parliament to raise a revenue from America, and our denial of their right to do it, have excited an almost universal inquiry into the rights of mankind in general, and of British subjects in particular; the necessary result of which must be such a liberality of sentiment, and such a jealousy of those in power, as will, better than an adamantine wall, secure us against the future approaches of despotism.
The malice of the Boston port bill has been defeated in a very considerable degree, by giving you an opportunity of deserving, and our brethren in this and our sister Colonies an opportunity of bestowing, those benefactions which have delighted your friends and astonished your enemies, not only in America, but in Europe also. And what is more valuable still, the sympathetic feelings for a brother in distress, and the grateful emotions excited in the breast of him who finds relief, must forever endear each to the other, and form those indissoluble bonds of friendship and affection, on which the preservation of our rights so evidently depend.
The mutilation of our charter, has made every other Colony jealous for its own; for this, if once submitted to us, would set on float the property and government of every British settlement upon the continent. If charters are not deemed sacred, how miserably precarious is every thing founded upon them.
Even the sending troops to put these acts in execution, is not without advantage to us. The exactness and beauty of their discipline inspire our youth with ardor in the pursuit of military knowledge. Charles the Invincible, taughtPeter the Great, the art of war. The battle of Pultowa convinced Charles of the proficiency Peter had made.
Our country is in danger, but not to be despaired of. Our enemies are numerous and powerful; but we have many friends, determining to be free, and heaven and earth will aid the resolution. On you depend the fortunes of America. You are to decide the important question, on which rest the happiness and liberty of millions yet unborn. Act worthy of yourselves. The faltering tongue of hoary age calls on you to support your country. The lisping infant raises its suppliant hands, imploring defence against the monster, slavery. Your fathers look from their celestial seats with smiling approbation on their sons, who boldly stand forth in the cause of virtue; but sternly frown upon the inhuman miscreant, who, to secure the loaves and fishes to himself, would breed a serpent to destroy his children.
But, pardon me, my fellow citizens, I know you want not zeal or fortitude. You will maintain your rights or perish in the generous struggle. However difficult the combat, you never will decline it when freedom is the prize. Anindependence on Great Britain is not our aim. No, our wish is, that Britain and the Colonies may, like the oak and ivy, grow and increase in strength together. But whilst the infatuated plan of making one part of the empire slaves to the other, is persisted in; the interest and safety of Britain, as well as the Colonies, require that the wise measures, recommended by the honorable the Continental Congress, be steadily pursued; whereby the unnatural contest between a parent honored, and a child beloved, may probably be brought to such an issue, as that the peace and happiness of both may be established upon a lasting basis. But if these pacific measures are ineffectual, and it appears that the only way to safety, is through fields of blood, I know you will not turn your faces from your foes, but will, undauntedly, press forward, until tyranny is trodden under foot, and you have fixed your adored goddess Liberty, fast by a Brunswick's side, on the American throne.
You, then, who nobly have espoused your country's cause, who generously have sacrificed wealth and ease; who have despised the pomp and show of tinseled greatness; refused thesummons to the festive board; been deaf to the alluring calls of luxury and mirth; who have forsaken the downy pillow to keep your vigils by the midnight lamp, for the salvation of your invaded country, that you might break the fowler's snare, and disappoint the vulture of his prey; you then will reap that harvest of renown which you so justly have deserved. Your country shall pay her grateful tribute of applause. Even the children of your most inveterate enemies, ashamed to tell from whom they sprang, while they in secret, curse their stupid, cruel parents, shall join the general voice of gratitude to those who broke the fetters which their fathers forged.
Having redeemed your country, and secured the blessing to future generations, who, fired by your example, shall emulate your virtues, and learn from you the heavenly art of making millions happy; with heart-felt joy, with transports all your own, you cry, the glorious work is done. Then drop the mantle to some young Elisha, and take your seats with kindred spirits in your native skies.