Part 4

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; nothing was 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 his gallant 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 to preserve 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 perilous encounter. 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 would from 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 point of 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 was not 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 had lost 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 me speak; 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 of peace 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.

ORATION,

_DELIVERED IN BOSTON, MARCH 6, 1775_,

BY

DR. JOSEPH WARREN,

IN COMMEMORATION OF THE EVENING OF THE FIFTH OF MARCH, 1770; WHEN A NUMBER OF CITIZENS WERE KILLED BY A PARTY OF BRITISH TROOPS, QUARTERED AMONG THEM IN A TIME OF 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 a LOVELL, a CHURCH, or a HANCOCK spake; 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 that property 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 is most 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 the cultivation 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 advantages which they since have, and we are most heartily willing they should continue to reap from us.