Stories about General Warren,

Mary. Yes, mamma, we often ride over it when we go to R – , do we not?

Mrs. M. Yes, my dear. Formerly people were hung oftener and much more publicly than at present. There was, therefore, a gallows erected on the neck, on which to hang criminals, where every body could see them. One day, Dr. Joseph Warren was going over to Roxbury, to visit his mother, whom he loved very much; when he had gone over a little way on the neck he came to a spot where three or four British officers were standing together, talking, as he passed them, one of them called out "Go on, Warren, you will soon come to the gallows." They meant he would soon come to the gallows on the neck, but it was very evident they also meant to insult him, as they burst into a loud laugh so soon as it was said. Warren was not a man to submit to an insult from any one, least of all from them. He immediately turned back, walked up to them, and calmly requested to know which of them had thus addressed him. Not one of them had the courage to avow his insolence. Finding he could obtain no answer, he at last left them, ashamed of themselves and of each other, but glad to have got off so easily.

William. What a set of cowards! I wish Gen. Warren could have given them a good flogging.

Mrs. M. It would have been but what they deserved, to be sure. It usually happens that those who are most ready to insult, where they think no defence can be made, are the greatest cowards when called upon to avow or defend what they have done.

Gen. Warren had so much power over the feelings of those whom he addressed, that is, he was so eloquent, that he was several times chosen, by those who were in favor of the cause of liberty, to address the people from the pulpit, that a great many at a time might hear him.

Do you know anything about the 5th of March massacre, in which the first American blood was shed by the British?

William. Yes, mamma, we both know about it. We have read it in Parley's First Book of History.

Mrs. M. I am glad of it; that is a most excellent little history, and contains a great deal you ought to remember. You know, then, that for some years after that massacre, on every 5th of March there was an oration delivered in the Old South meeting-house, to tell every body that one injury after another had been inflicted on us by the British, until the common people had become so angry that whenever they saw a British soldier they wanted to insult him. By the way, I will stop here a moment, to tell you of something which was done by one of the British officers, which will show you that the people of Boston had some reason to dislike them. The British were very much afraid that guns should be procured by the Americans from their soldiers, and whenever they knew that any American had bought a musket from one of their men, they punished him severely. Some of the officers, however, were so eager to have an excuse for punishing our men, that they would tempt them to buy guns, on purpose to make a difficulty. One in particular, a Col. Nesbit, ordered one of his men to offer an American, who had come in from the country, an old musket, very cheap. The poor man, little suspecting any trick, eagerly bought it. Col. Nesbit immediately took him up and confined him all night in the guard house. The next morning he stripped him entirely naked, covered him over with warm tar, then he put feathers over that and placed him on a cart and conducted him through Boston streets, quite up to the south end. He was guarded by thirty grenadiers, with fixed bayonets; twenty drums and fifes accompanied them, playing the "Rogues March," and the despicable Nesbit headed the procession with his sword drawn.

William. I think it was a "rogues march" indeed, dear mother, don't you? But what became of the poor man, did not our people rescue him, and do something to that wicked Colonel?

Mrs. M. When they reached that part of Washington street where the liberty tree then was, the people had become so excited, that the cowardly Nesbit was glad to let his soldiers disperse, and he and they skulked to their barracks as quick as they could. The unfortunate object of their cruelty was of course liberated and taken care of.

William. Oh how I wish they had caught Col. Nesbit, and tarred and feathered him as he had the man!

Mrs. M. It was much better to let him go. This conduct of his served our cause better than any thing he could have done; and it would have been a pity for us to have followed his example, and thus have lessened the odium attached to him.

William. I do not at all wonder, if such was the conduct of the British, that our men felt angry whenever they met any of them.

Mrs. M. Nor I. But to return to the 5th of March Orations. The great subject of them was, the oppression of the British, and the quarrels which were constantly taking place between their soldiers and ours, and which it was impossible to avoid, while these oppressions were permitted. The orators did not then urge the people to throw off the government of Great Britain, they only explained their rights, and called upon them not to give them up, but one and all to petition the king to take away his soldiers and his governors from our country, and permit us to choose rulers from among ourselves, and to form our own soldiers. These petitions were accordingly repeatedly sent to the king, but the more we petitioned the more soldiers he sent.

Gen. Warren delivered two of these orations. The first had so great an effect on the people, that they determined to resort to arms if their petitions were unsuccessful. Indeed, all these orations had such a powerful influence on the hearers, that the British officers determined there should be no more such. They declared it should be as much as a person's life was worth to attempt again to deliver one. Many men who would otherwise have been desirous to speak on the anniversary of the massacre, now thought it most prudent to keep quiet. Though they would have been quite willing to fight in defence of their country's liberties, yet they thought that to get up and speak, surrounded with soldiers and their bayonets, who were under the command of those who had uttered such threats, would be much worse than to face their enemies with arms in their hands.

William. I should think so too. I am sure, if I saw men standing before me ready to shoot me, or stick their bayonets into me, if I said any thing they did not like, I should at least have forgotten all I had to say.

Mrs. M. Gen. Warren did not think so. As the next 5th of March approached, after these threats had been made, he did not wait to be invited to speak on the occasion, but himself solicited permission to address the people.

All his noble feelings were roused at the idea that men from another country should presume to say what Americans should speak, and what they should not; and he determined that his voice should be once more heard, even should it then be silenced forever.

The sun shone on the 6th of March, 1775,1 with unusual splendour. Warren saw it rise, and as he gazed upon its brilliant rays, he thought that perhaps ere those rays were again withdrawn from the earth, he might be a breathless corpse, never more to behold them, but no regret at the duty he had undertaken for a moment darkened his mind; he hailed its cheering beams as a proof that Heaven itself smiled on his exertions for his country's welfare.

At an early hour the Old South meeting-house was crowded even to its porch. Many of the friends of the much loved speaker were there, determined, if he was attacked, he should not be without his defenders.

The aisles of the meeting-house, the steps to the pulpit, even the pulpit itself, were occupied by the British. Warren was not to be frightened from his purpose by all this. He thought that if he attempted to go in at the door and up the pulpit stairs, the British officers might endeavor to stop him, and that, even if they did not succeed, the attempt would cause so much confusion that no one would be calm enough to listen to him afterwards. So how do you suppose he contrived to reach the pulpit?

Mary. I should think he would not have attempted it, but would have put off speaking, at least, until the pulpit was clear.

William. I dare say he managed in some such way as he did when his classmates undertook to keep him out of their room.

Mrs. M. It was not very unlike it. He requested some of his friends to assist him, and they procured a ladder, put it up outside the pulpit window, and while all within were anxiously watching for him at the door, and his friends were trembling for fear he would not be able to make his way through the crowd, they raised their eyes, and, to the astonishment of them all, beheld him in the pulpit! The British officers were so surprised at his coolness and intrepidity, that they involuntarily fell back at his approach. He advanced to address the assembled multitude, not knowing but that, at the first word he spoke, a bayonet would be thrust into his defenceless side.

Every eye was fixed upon him in almost breathless emotion. So awful and perfect was the silence that each one could hear the palpitations of his own heart. Every face was pale but his own. His animated and expressive countenance was lighted up, and glowing with all the enthusiasm that the most ardent love for the rights of his country could inspire. The officers who stood near to him, so far from making his noble spirit tremble or hesitate, only inspired him with greater animation to tell over the wrongs which they had done us, and the still greater wrongs they were about to do. He called upon the soldiers not to assist their masters in this; not to aid a parent to oppress his children and wrest from them their hard earned rights. He told them that our fathers had come to this country to avoid the very tyranny that was now bearing so heavily on their children. That they came here to worship God in the way they thought most acceptable to Him. That they had given up their homes, their friends, and all the comforts of civilized life, for freedom. That they had suffered the greatest hardships from savages, from cold, poverty, and the want of every thing worth having, except liberty. He told them that through all the cares and all the sufferings of our pilgrim fathers, they still looked back on the country from which they came with the affection of children. They had obeyed its laws, had sent it money, and had done all that was in their power to do, to prove that they were deeply interested in its welfare. But that now that we, the descendants of those who had undergone so much, were beginning to enjoy what they had purchased so dearly, these Britains were determined to oppress us. That their king, who ought to take a pleasure in our prosperity, judged us without hearing us, gave us rulers who took no interest in our prosperity, and insisted that we should pay money for the privilege of buying what it was for his interest to sell us. It is long since I read this eloquent address, and I cannot give you any correct idea of it; you must read it yourself to form one.2

The scene, while Warren was speaking, was sublime and interesting beyond any thing of the kind that had ever before been witnessed in this country, or, perhaps in any other. When the orators of ancient times were urging their countrymen not to submit to tyrants, those tyrants were far away – but while Warren was making this appeal to his countrymen, it was in the presence of the very oppressors themselves, who were gazing on him with arms in their hands, arms ready to be used the moment their passions were roused! That their passions were roused, I think there can be little doubt; but there was so much determination in the looks of those around, that I suppose they were not willing to run the risk of attacking a man thus guarded by the love, almost the adoration of those whom he addressed. Besides this, there were many among the British who were so much affected by Warren's address, as to be unwilling to use any violence against the speaker.

If such was its effect on his enemies, what must it have been on his friends? It was so powerful that, at that moment they might have been led on to an entire renunciation of the government of Great Britain. The time, however, had not yet quite arrived for so bold an act; the country was young and without resources, or any prospect of aid from other countries. Still, from this time, many who had not before expressed an opinion, now openly declared that we ought to be independent.

Things had been gradually operating to produce an almost universal belief that there was little to be expected from the king of England. Josiah Quincy, the father of him who is now president of Cambridge College, was a warm friend of Gen. Warren's, and had aided in all his efforts to repel the encroachments of the king. About six months before this oration was delivered, he had embarked privately for England. From his letters it was evident that, although many influential men there were in our favor, yet those by whom the king was governed were against us, so that there was little prospect that any change for the better should take place. The general tenor of his letters to his countrymen, while he himself was in England, was, what he says, he had long before told them, that "they must seal their cause with their blood, that in the sight of God and all just men, that cause is a good one," and if Americans do not act up to their professions "they would be trodden into the vilest vassalage, the scorn, contempt, the spurn of their enemies, a bye-word of infamy among men." That Americans would "be true to themselves," and were ready, when called on, "to seal their cause with their blood," his friend Warren was among the most earnest to convince him. He writes to him, "It is the united voice of America, to preserve their freedom, or lose their lives in its defence." "I am convinced," he says, "that the true spirit of liberty was never so universally diffused through all orders and ranks of people, in any country on the face of the globe, as it now is through all North America." He says of the provincial Congress, of which he had been elected president: "Congress met at Concord at the time appointed. About two hundred and sixty members were present." "You would have thought yourself in an assembly of Spartans, or ancient Romans, had you been a witness to the ardour which inspired those who spoke on the important business they were transacting." The Congress of which he here speaks was composed of men chosen by the people, to provide for the safety of their fellow citizens, and to order all that was necessary to be done to enable them to resist the tyrannical laws of the king of England. The terms in which Gen. Warren speaks of this congress, were no doubt very cheering to Mr. Quincy, who must himself have ardently desired to have been present among them. He remained only six months in England, and died on his passage home, just as the vessel which he was on board entered the harbour of Cape Ann, on the 26th of April, 1775.

William. Oh how sorry I am! He must have wished very much to have seen his countrymen once more.

Mrs. M. He did indeed. He repeatedly said to the seamen, who were attending on him, that he had but one desire and one prayer, which was, that he might live long enough to have one interview with his friend Joseph Warren, or with Samuel Adams. His prayer was not granted, for wise purposes no doubt. Nor did he know that his predictions that blood would be shed before liberty could be attained, were accomplished, and that his countrymen had already, in the battle of Lexington, sealed their constancy in the cause of liberty "with their blood."

But I must go back a little to tell you what led to that battle. The British had been for some time aware that the Americans were determined to repel their aggressions by arms, since all other means had failed. They therefore determined to take from us the means of defence. They thought if they could get possession of our powder and balls, we of course could not fire our guns or cannon. They resolved to attempt first to gain those which were at Concord, a small town about 18 miles from Boston.

On the 18th of March, 1775, Gen. Gage despatched, as secretly as possible, eight or nine hundred soldiers, under the command of a Col. Smith, to destroy all the stores in that place, thinking this a safer plan than to try to keep them. This they hoped to effect before our people had time to make any resistance. But the Americans were not so easily taken by surprise. Gen. Warren had directed a number of men to keep watch on the motions of the British, and to let him know when there was any appearance of an attack upon us. These men discovered this plan of theirs, and immediately gave Warren information of it. He would not do any thing hastily, so he went himself to watch them. One evening he observed there was an unusual stir in the English camp. Unperceived by them he saw Col. Smith and his men embark on board some of their vessels, and he had no doubt they were going to Charlestown, and from thence to Concord. He, the same night, despatched messengers through the neighboring country, to give notice of the designed attack. He rode himself all night, and passed so near the enemy as to be several times in danger of becoming their prisoner, but escaped by his undaunted courage and self-possession. Col. Revere was one of his messengers; I think he was sent to Lexington. He had of course to pass through Charlestown. As he was turning a corner of one of the streets, he discovered a party of soldiers approaching, he knew them to belong to the enemy; for a moment he hesitated whether to turn back or proceed; but it was only for a moment; he recollected that probably the safety of hundreds depended on his executing the commission entrusted to him, he put his horse into a gallop, and, before the astonished men had time to ascertain if he was friend or foe, he had dashed through them and was nearly out of sight! In vain with their halloos and their whizzing balls they attempted to stop him; of the halloos he was regardless, and from their balls he was preserved by that Being who seemed in a most especial manner to smile upon our cause.

William. I am glad they could not stop him. I think he was a brave man, do not you mamma? I fear I should have turned back when I saw the soldiers coming.

Mrs. M. He certainly was a very brave man, and we had a great many such during the Revolution. I trust you would have been brave too, had you lived in such times, and would not have turned back from the performance of a duty, because it was dangerous to execute it. Revere executed his so faithfully, that when the British arrived at Lexington, which is six miles this side of Concord, they were met by a body of our militia, who endeavored to keep them from advancing. It was now about sunrise. Warren, although he had had no rest that night, hastened to the field of action, determined to be ready to aid and animate his countrymen, and to share every danger to which they were exposed.

The small number of men which had time to assemble were not, however, able to make much opposition to the veteran soldiers of Great Britain. When the officers of these men cried out, "Disperse, you rebels, disperse, throw down your arms and disperse," many left the field. As they were doing so, some of the enemy fired on them; this brought on an engagement, in which eight of our men were killed and seven wounded. The British pursued their march to Concord, and destroyed sixty barrels of flour, and other stores deposited there. Our men had now collected in greater numbers, and opposed them so resolutely as to drive them back to Lexington in quick march, and they continued to annoy them through the whole of their retreat to Charlestown: so that, before they arrived there, they had lost many men. Some were wounded, some taken prisoners, and others slain. Gen. Warren, from his ardor in pressing on them was near being killed. A musket-ball came so close to him as to take off a lock of his hair which curled close to his head, as was the fashion of the time. You may see how his hair was dressed if you look at his picture in Faneuil Hall.

Mary. How could it help wounding him, dear mother, when it came so near?

Mrs. M. It seems wonderful that it should not have wounded him; but he was spared a little longer by that Being, who alone can judge what is the proper time in which a valuable life should be taken.

When his mother first saw him after this escape, she entreated him, with tears in her eyes, not again to risk a life so dear to her, and so necessary to his country. "Wherever danger is, dear mother," was his reply, "there must your son be, now is no time for one of America's children to shrink from the most hazardous duty. I will either see my country free, or shed my last drop of blood to make her so." He was not permitted to see this; but he did indeed shed his life's blood, that others might be free. That blood was not shed in vain. It is probable that his death did nearly as much to animate his countrymen in the cause of liberty, as he himself could have done had he lived.

After the battle of Lexington, there was an exchange of prisoners made. The British agreed to release those they had taken, in exchange for those taken by the Americans. The place appointed for this exchange to be made was Charlestown, the town so soon after destroyed by some of the very men now met for purposes of kindness and good will. Gen. Warren, as President of Congress, and the brave Gen. Putnam, (under whom Warren had previously served as a volunteer in a skirmish on one of the islands, in which the English had been defeated, and one of their vessels burnt,) were escorted by two of the finest companies of the Massachusetts soldiers, to the place of meeting. The scene was interesting and impressive. Although there had been difficulties among the English soldiers and our people, and with some of the officers also, yet most of the officers, on both sides, had been cordial to each other; some had been intimate friends. They had, previous to the difficulties between the two countries, served under the same commanders, fought the same battles, glowed with united hopes of victory, or felt disheartened together when they failed in their undertakings. These feelings could not be altogether repressed, and when they now first met, after having been arrayed against each other, – met too, to exchange offices of kindness and hospitality, with the sacred flag of truce waving over their heads, every sentiment but that of friendship was forgotten, and they rushed into each others' arms, overcome with feelings too powerful for expression. These feelings quickly spread around, and each hardy soldier was ready to extend the hand of amity to the other.

After the business on which they met was over, Putnam and Warren entertained the British as their guests, with all the hospitality the times would permit.

A few days after this meeting, Warren was appointed Major-General of the American forces in Massachusetts. The people had for some time looked up to him as their leader; and he had made constant exertions to maintain order and enforce discipline among the troops. He united so much coolness with so much true courage, and so much gentleness with so much decision, as to give him immense influence over them. He mingled in the ranks, talked with each soldier as if he was a brother, and thus succeeded most astonishingly in imparting to them his own ardour in the cause, and his confidence in its success. Before he was chosen as their General, he was requested to act as Surgeon-General to the army, but this post did not suit his heroic character. His wish was to lead on the soldiers to battle, rather than to take care of those who were unable to go, or of those who received wounds while there.

The charge he had now received of the army, he would not suffer in any degree to interfere with that he before sustained as President of Congress. He had from the first discovered as much talent in directing the counsels of the nation, as he had energy in animating the soldiers. Part of each day he would pass in Congress, which was now assembled at Watertown, deliberately weighing each subject that was discussed. He gave no opinion until fully convinced what was best to be done. When his opinion was formed, he bent every power of his mind and body, to have that which was resolved upon put into execution. When he had accomplished all he could in the Congress, he would jump on his horse, ride as quickly as possible to the camp at Cambridge, and enter with equal ardor into every thing to be done there.