Part 23

An interesting incident is related, as having occurred immediately following the fire of the Americans. Among the British officers who escaped the terrible destruction, was Major Small; but, so fatal had been the fire, that scarcely was there a man left near him. Consequently, his superior dress rendered him a more conspicuous object. Several riflemen had marked him--had indeed raised their guns, and were in the act of levelling them, when Putnam recognised Major Small, and perceived the imminent danger he was in. A moment longer, and his early friend, with whom he had served in the French war, and for whom he cherished an unfeigned regard, would be in the agonies of death. He sprang upon the parapet, and rushed immediately before the levelled rifles, exclaiming: "My gallant comrades! spare, spare that officer! we are friends; we are brothers. Do you not remember how we rushed into each others' arms, at the meeting for the exchange of prisoners?" The appeal, it needs scarcely be added, was successful. Every rifle was instantly lowered; every bosom glowed with the generous emotions which filled that of the high-souled Putnam; nor was one feeling of regret indulged, as the gallant British officer retired unharmed.

Although repulsed in a second attack, and with losses as signal as unexpected, Howe immediately decided upon renewing the contest. Upon the issue of that day, and the results of this single conflict, he well knew, might hang the fortunes of the British cause in America. If successful, the patriots would become disheartened; if defeated, they would take courage, and continue the controversy with greater animation. With more wisdom, he decided to concentrate his whole force upon the redoubt--and, that his troops might act with greater energy, he directed them to lay aside their cumbersome knapsacks, and, in imitation of the Americans, to reserve their fire, or, if circumstances allowed, to rely upon the bayonet.

Meanwhile, the situation of the Americans had become critical and alarming. They had, indeed, lost comparatively few of their number; but it was discovered, we might almost say to their dismay, that their ammunition was nearly exhausted. They had little prospect of any further supply; they had few, if any bayonets, and, as to rëinforcements, though extremely desirable, and now necessary, they could indulge only slight hopes. They were, however, cheered by the prospect of a rëinforcement of three hundred men at this critical juncture. The regiment of Colonel Gardiner, stationed at Charlestown, although they had received no orders to that effect, that gallant officer volunteered to bring to their assistance. Most unfortunately, however, just as he was descending to the lines, a musket-ball struck him, which soon after proved mortal. In consequence of this untoward event, his regiment became disordered, and but a single company that marched from Charlestown, under command of Captain Harris, participated in the action. It was, however, and well does it attest their patriotic courage, the very last to leave the field.

The history of the American war furnishes many an incident of thrilling interest, and many an instance of heroic bravery and devotion to the cause of liberty: the last moments of Colonel Gardiner may be ranked among the number. On receiving his wound, he was borne from the field by some of his men; when his son, a youth of only nineteen, and a second lieutenant in Trevett's artillery company, rushed forward to his father's aid. On beholding him, said the father: "Think not of me, my son. I am well. Go to your duty!" And the son obeyed, and hastened to his post, while the father was borne from the field to die. Is it a matter of marvel that people should succeed in a struggle where such lofty patriotism fired their bosoms, and, in pursuing which, some of the tenderest and strongest ties of our nature were sacrificed for their country's good?

The British troops, as we said, were again advancing. Without bayonets, with a few charges of powder remaining, the Americans waited in silence to receive them as they were able. Stones and the stocks of their muskets supplied the place of powder and ball. Richardson, a private in the Royal Irish regiment, was the first to mount the parapet; but he fell the next moment. Nearly at the same time, Major Pitcairn, whose insolence and inhumanity at Lexington will not soon be forgotten, appeared upon the parapet, and, as if actuated by a similar spirit now as then, he exultingly exclaimed: "The day is ours!" But here he met a deserved fate; for, while the words still lingered on his lies, a bullet from a musket, fired by a colored man named Salem, pierced his body, and he fell and expired.

While these events were occurring in one quarter, the enemy were more successful in another, the south-east corner of the redoubt. Here a tree had been left standing, and by means of this, General Pigot succeeded in mounting the works; his men followed him; and here, for a brief space, the contest was spirited and sanguinary. Several American officers suffered severely. Colonel Bridge was twice wounded by a broad-sword. Major Gridley received a ball through the leg, and was borne from the field. Lieutenant Prescott, nephew to the colonel, had his arm so broken, as to hang useless by his side; but, nothing deterred by his wound, he continued to load his musket, and was in the act of pointing his gun through the sally-port at the enemy, when he was cut in sunder by a cannon-ball. But now, the sacrifice of life which was being offered upon the shrine of liberty, was accomplishing no good. The Americans could no longer contend with hope, as their ammunition was fairly expended. Prescott was reluctant to yield; but it was wise--it was best. An honorable retreat was still practicable, and he chose this alternative. The Americans retired in order from the hill.

A retreat bore more heavily upon one patriotic spirit than, if possible, upon all others--that one was Warren's. He lingered to the very latest moment--beyond the moment of safety. Nor had he quitted the works, or proceeded but a few rods, when the British were in full possession. Major Small, the British officer whose life Putnam had saved only a few hours before, saw him--surmised his reluctance--perceived his danger--and would have saved him. Addressing him by name, he besought him to surrender, as the only means of security; at the same time ordering his men to suspend their firing. Warren, it is supposed, heard the voice of Small; but whether he would have taken advantage of the proffered safety, cannot be known. He turned his head towards the sound, and at that instant a ball sunk deep in his forehead, and produced instant death.

The day following, the body of this patriot, statesman, and hero, was discovered and identified by Isaac Winslow, (then a youth, afterwards general,) and by several others, who were familiar with his person. The bullet which terminated his life was extracted by Mr. Savage, an officer in the custom-house. Subsequently, he carried it to England; but, years afterwards, it was presented at London to Rev. Mr. Montague, of Dedham, Mass., in whose family it still remains. The remains of Warren were buried on the spot where he fell; but the following year they were temporarily removed to a tomb in the Tremont cemetery. They now repose in the family vault, under St. Paul's church, Boston.

The loss of Warren was among the saddest and bitterest incidents of the day. Few had such aspirations after liberty--few so well understood the true interests of the country, or were better able to suggest measures calculated to secure the triumph of her cause. To the British, the intelligence of his fall was as grateful (considering him in the light of an enemy) as it was unexpected. It is recorded that when on the following morning the news of the event was brought to General Howe, who remained on the field during the night, he would scarcely credit it; and when, at length, it was verified, he declared that "his death was a full offset for the loss of five hundred men."

The battle of Bunker's hill, which we have thus described as minutely as our limits will allow, was of about two hours' continuance, having commenced at three o'clock. The Americans engaged were estimated at about three thousand five hundred. The number killed and missing was one hundred and fifteen; three hundred and five were wounded, and thirty taken prisoners. Of the several regiments, Prescott's suffered the most severely, losing forty-two killed and twenty-eight wounded. Several officers were killed--Colonel Gardiner, Lieutenant-Colonel Parker, Major Moore, and Major Maclary.

The British force engaged in this battle was four thousand. Their loss General Gage, in his official account, acknowledged to be one thousand and fifty-four--two hundred and twenty-six killed; eight hundred and twenty-eight wounded, including nineteen officers killed and twenty-eight wounded. Their loss, according to the official account of the action by the Massachusetts congress, was fifteen hundred.

Charlestown was entirely destroyed. On the retreat of the Americans, the British took possession of Bunker's hill, from which they kept up a fire of artillery during the night. The Americans occupied Prospect and Winter hills.

It was a bold attempt on the part of General Howe to carry the American redoubt by an attack in _front_; in consequence of this, his troops were exposed to the direct and galling fire of men who were each able to take deliberate aim. A censure was indeed cast upon him for so doing; but a too vain confidence in the bravery and discipline of his soldiers, and an equally mistaken estimate of American valor, led him to reject a plan proposed by General Clinton, and the adoption of one which, had it succeeded, would have secured more honor, but which obviously was so hazardous and doubtful in its issue, as might well have gained for the other the preference.

The night of the 17th of June was one of more sadness to the British than to the Americans, notwithstanding that the latter had been driven from their position, and the colors of the former were waving over Bunker's hill. To the British belonged the field--to the Americans, _in effect_, the victory. What the former had gained, was of no use to them, as their forces were not sufficiently numerous to hold possession of so extended a line. Their loss in numbers was grievous; but this was small in comparison to the mortification experienced in view of their repeated repulses. Nor was that mortification lessened when it became known that the retreat of the Americans was caused by a want of ammunition. Had the _materiel_ of battle not failed, who can say that the Americans would not have maintained their position?[33]

Such an issue, however, might have drawn after it consequences which, in the sequel, would have been disastrous to the patriotic cause. A vain confidence might have been engendered, leading to the neglect of needful, and even essential preparation, to cope with a foe more formidable at that era, than any other on the globe. It was well doubtless, and Providence in kindness so ordered, it, that ammunition should fail. God gave to the Americans just that success which was calculated to animate and encourage them: and permitted them to suffer just in that way, and to that extent, as to teach them humility, and to trust in Him. Theirs was a just and glorious cause. It was the cause of liberty and of God. It was right that they should succeed; but it was equally befitting that they should feel and acknowledge that their success was from the God of their fathers.

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.

"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: