Read Ebook: The Command in the Battle of Bunker Hill With a Reply to Remarks on Frothingham's History of the Battle by S. Swett by Frothingham Richard

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MR. MARX'S SECRET

My home was a quaint, three-storeyed, ivy-clad farmhouse in a Midland county. It lay in a hollow, nestled close up against Rothland Wood, the dark, close-growing trees of which formed a picturesque background to the worn greystone whereof it was fashioned.

In front, just across the road, was the boundary-wall of Ravenor Park, with its black fir spinneys, huge masses of lichen-covered rock, clear fish-ponds, and breezy hills, from the summits of which were visible the sombre grey towers of Ravenor Castle, standing out with grim, rugged boldness against the sky.

Forbidden ground though it was, there was not a yard of the park up to the inner boundary fence which I did not know; not a spinney where I had not searched for birds' nests or raided in quest of the first primrose; not a hill on which I had not spent some part of a summer afternoon.

I was a trespasser, of course; but I was the son of Farmer Morton, an old tenant on the estate, and much in favour with the keepers, by reason of a famous brew which he was ever ready to offer a thirsty man, or to drink himself. So "Morton's young 'un" was unmolested; and, save for an occasional good-humoured warning from Crooks, the head-gamekeeper, during breeding-time, I had the run of the place.

Moreover, the great estates of which Ravenor Park was the centre knew at that time no other master than a lawyer of non-sporting proclivities, so the preserves were only looked after as a matter of form.

I was eight years old, and an unusually hot summer was at its height. It was past midday, and I had just come out from the house, with the intention of settling down for an afternoon's reading in a shady corner of the orchard. I had reached the stack-yard gate when I stopped short, my hand upon the fastening.

A most unusual sound was floating across the meadows, through the breathless air. The church-bells of Rothland, the village on the other side of the wood, had suddenly burst out into a wild, clashing peal of joy.

In a country district everybody knows everyone else's business; and, child though I was, I knew that no marriage was taking place anywhere near.

I stood listening in wonderment, for I had never heard such a thing before; and, while I was lingering, the bells from Annerley, a village a little farther away, and the grand, mellow-sounding chimes from the chapel at Ravenor Castle, breaking the silence of many years, took up the peal, and the lazy summer day seemed all of a sudden to wake up into a state of unaccountable delight.

I ran back towards the house and met my mother standing in the cool stone porch. The men about the farm were all grouped together, wondering. No one had the least idea of what had happened.

And then Jim Harrison, the waggoner, who had just come in from the home meadow, called out quickly, pointing with his finger; and far away, along the white, dusty road, we could see the figure of a man on horseback riding towards us at a furious gallop.

"It be the master!" he cried, excitedly. "It be the master, for sure! There bean't no mistaking Brown Bess's gallop. Lord-a-mercy! how 'e be a-riding her!"

We all trooped out on to the road to meet my father, eager to hear the news. In a few moments he reached us, and brought Brown Bess to a standstill, bathed in sweat and dust, and quivering in every limb.

"Hurrah, lads!" he shouted, waving his whip above his head. "Hurrah! There never was such a bit o' news as I've got for you! All Mellborough be gone crazy about it!"

"What is it, George? Why don't you tell us?" my mother asked quickly. And, to my surprise, her hand, in which mine was resting, was as cold as ice, notwithstanding the August heat.

He raised himself in his stirrups and shouted so that all might hear:

"Squire Ravenor be come to life again! They 'a' found him on an island in the Pacific, close against the coral reef where his yacht went down six years ago! He's on his way home again, lads. Think of that! Sal, lass, bring us up a gallon of ale and another after it. We'll drink to his homecoming, lads!"

There was a burst of applause and many exclamations of wonder. My mother's hand had moved, as though unconsciously, to my shoulder, and she was leaning heavily upon me.

"Where did you hear this, George?" she asked, in a subdued tone.

"Why, it be in all the London papers this morning," he answered, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead. "The steamer that's bringing him home 'a' sent a message from some foreign port, and Lawyer Cox he's got one, and it's all written up large on the walls of the Corn Exchange. I reckon it'll make those deuced lawyers sit up!" chuckled my father, as he slowly dismounted.

"Lord-a-mercy! Only to think on it! Six year on a little bit o' an island, and not a living soul to speak a word to! And now he's on his way home again. It beats all story-telling I ever heerd on. Why, Alice, lass, it 'a' quite upset you," he added, looking anxiously at my mother. "You're all white and scared-like. Dost feel badly?"

She was standing with her back to us and when she turned round it seemed to me that a change had crept into her face.

"It is the heat and excitement," she said quietly. "This is strange news. I think that I will go in and rest."

"All right, lass! Get thee indoors and lie down for a bit. Now, then, lads. Hurrah for the squire and long life to him! Pour it out, Jim--pour it out! Don't be afraid on it. Such news as this don't coom every day."

And, with the vision of my stalwart yeoman father, the centre of a little group of farm-labourers, holding his foaming glass high above his head, and his honest face ruddy with heat and excitement, my memories of this scene grow dim and fade away.

I was alone with my father in the kitchen, and he was looking as I had never seen him look before. It was late in the afternoon--as near as I can remember, about six weeks after the news had reached us of Mr. Ravenor's wonderful adventures. He had just come in for tea, flushed with toil and labouring in the hot sun. But as he stood on the flags before me, reading a letter which had been sent up from the village, the glow seemed to die out from his face and his strong, rough hands trembled.

"It's a lie!" I heard him mutter to himself, in a hoarse whisper--"a wicked lie!"

Then he sank back in one of the high-backed chairs and I watched him, frightened.

"Philip, lad," he said to me, speaking slowly, and yet with a certain eagerness in his tone, "has your mother had any visitors lately whilst I 'a' been out on the farm?"

I shook my head.

"No one, except Mr. Francis," I added doubtfully.

He groaned and hid his face for a moment.

"How often has he been here?" he asked, after a while. "When did he come first? Dost remember?"

"Yes," I answered promptly, "It was on the day Tom Foulds fell from the oat-stack and broke his leg. There was another gentleman with him then. I saw them looking in at the orchard gate, so I asked them if they wanted anything, and the strange gentleman said that he was thirsty and would like some milk, so I took him into the dairy; and I think that mother must have known him before, for she seemed so surprised to see him.

I broke off in sudden dismay. Had not my mother forbidden my mentioning these visits to anyone? What had I done? I began to cry silently.

My father rose from his chair and leaned against the oaken chimney-piece, with his back turned towards me.

Before going to the question of command, it may be well to examine some of the errors which Mr Swett alleges the HISTORY OF THE SIEGE OF BOSTON contains.

"The writer yesterday saw Thos. Cooke, Esq. In 1775 he was a member of the Provincial Congress, and one of the signers of the sword in hand money. He was on the day of the Bunker Hill fight at Cambridge. He went down to Prospect Hill and saw the whole transaction of the day. He says that all was confusion, there was no command. That he saw Gen. Putnam, who did all that man could do to get on the men to Breed's Hill; that he appeared firm and resolute, thoughtless of personal danger, and that his praise was in the mouth of every one; that at that time nor ever after did he ever hear any one speak a disreputable word against him."

On these two letters of Sargent and Thaxter, I remark, 1. They serve to show the character of this sort of authority, and how cautiously it must be used. 2. Here two manuscripts, so long unpublished, harmonize on one point. Sargent says that about 4 P. M. Putnam was on Prospect Hill: Thaxter's letter says that Thomas Cooke went on to Prospect Hill and saw Putnam, who did all man could do to induce men to go to Breed's Hill. Now Stiles states that towards night Putnam went away from the action "to fetch across reinforcements, and before he could return our men began to retreat." 3. Sargent says Prescott was the commander, while Thaxter and Cooke say there was no command.

Now General Putnam had little or nothing to do with the original detachment, if the two hundred Connecticut men, after they got to the rail fence, be excepted. There is no proof that he gave an order to it throughout the whole affair, but on the contrary, this is denied in the strongest terms. But his principal service was rendered in connection with the reinforcements, which arrived at the scene of action in the afternoon. After the first attack, he rode to Bunker Hill, and to the rear of it, to urge them forward. But they hesitated. He used every effort, especially, it is stated, at Charlestown Neck and on Bunker Hill, to overcome this reluctance. He ordered, entreated, encouraged and threatened, but all in vain. "The plea was"--I quote a report made in 1775--"the artillery was gone, and they stood no chance for their lives in such circumstances, declaring they had no officers to lead them." They could not be prevailed upon to go where fighting was, and so large bodies of the troops remained out of the action. This fact is one of the most reliable, as well as most discreditable, relative to the battle. In truth, the state of things on Bunker Hill and in the rear of it, during the afternoon, was more like positive disobedience, than like "implicit subjection." However it may have been at Prescott's post there was no such efficient command in other parts of the field as is expressed in Mr Swett's language, anything he has written, or may write, to the contrary notwithstanding. There was confusion when he leaves the inference that there was order. The evidence on this point is conclusive--overwhelming.

In opposition to this "mob" theory, Mr Swett goes to the other extreme, and affirms, p. 18--"That the army at Cambridge was regularly organized and consolidated under Ward, Warren, Putnam, and other officers in regular gradation, without any distinction in regard to the colonies whence the troops came." And this is repeated on p. 21, and again on p. 29. In fact this constitutes the foundation of one of Mr Swett's "incontrovertible" proofs that Putnam was the commander. It is strange that Mr Swett should venture upon such assertions flatly in the face of the most positive evidence. He makes no attempt to disprove the facts, first brought together in the Siege of Boston, relative to the action of the colonies, and which were drawn entirely from contemporary MSS. and authorities. It is not necessary to repeat them here. They show that each of the four colonies commissioned its troops, supplied them with provisions, directed their disposition, and that it was not until after the battle of Bunker Hill that the Committee of War of Connecticut ordered Generals Spencer and Putnam, while their troops were in Massachusetts, to obey General Ward as commander-in-chief, in order that there might be "a due subordination;" and also advised the colonies of Rhode Island and New Hampshire to do the same respecting their troops. That the army was regularly organized and consolidated is not true.

The errors that have been examined appear to be the most material which Mr Swett has specified, though he names others, and even grows desponding over their number. He remarks, p. 10--"We have made the supposition of the author's fundamental error being solitary; but errors, like misfortunes, never come alone. The lost traveller who wanders from the right road enters a boundless field of aberration, and at every step plunges deeper into a chaos of mistakes." The right road in this case is probably the beaten path of Mr Swett's history, and every step from it is aberration and a plunge deeper into "chaos." The reader can judge of the nature of some of these mistakes. Others are of like character. It is however, entirely inadmissible that facts resting on contemporary documents are to be proved errors by the recollection of aged people. Is it not a waste of words to refute charges based on this sort of proof? I have aimed to give a faithful relation of facts, and on this score fear no investigation and ask no quarter. But more of this in another place.

What but partizan feeling could have dictated such gross and groundless attacks on the integrity of the Siege of Boston as abound on nearly every page of Mr Swett's pamphlet?

Having thus shown what some of the accusations made against the History of the Siege of Boston amount to, I might here stop. If remarks on the Battle of Bunker Hill, to which I apprehended no intelligent inquirer would object, and a fair citation of the evidence on both sides, which it would have been grave neglect to have omitted, be excepted, the whole statement relative to the question of command is given in a few lines, and seemed to be such as the authorities quoted necessarily demanded. They will do it injustice who discover in it, or fancy they discover, any disposition to make out an exclusive hero, or to fortify an "invincible prepossession." The question really seems of little practical account. General Putnam acted throughout with that bravery that marked his nature,--at the rail fence and on the brow of Bunker Hill in the heat of the action, and in the rear of these urging on the reinforcements. Gen. Warren, armed with a musket, fought in the redoubt, where he remained throughout the action; General Pomeroy, in the same way, kept at the rail fence; Colonel Prescott commanded at the original entrenchments. How much would it add to the fame of either of these patriots, were it made out clear that either exercised, or was authorized to exercise, a general command? How much would it increase the gratitude posterity owes to their memory for their gallant conduct? With such views, even the zeal and positiveness, and injustice, of Mr Swett shall not make me a partizan. I have only gone where the evidence carried me.

But the question of the command--a really curious historical question--had to be met, and I endeavored to account for the incongruity of the statements relative to it, and to dispose of it, in a way, which, if free from non-committalism, should also be free from dogmatism. The candid must judge whether the attempt has been successful. Mr Swett is not satisfied with the disposition, and announces his intention as follows:--"It will be our duty to enter into a thorough investigation of this subject of the command." It may be well, therefore, to follow him, and see how thorough has been his investigation, how sound is his reasoning, and how satisfactory is his conclusion. There is matter bearing on this subject in the Siege of Boston, never before printed, never before alluded to, consisting of extracts from original letters from General Ward and General Putnam; an entire and most important letter from Colonel Prescott; copious extracts from Judge William Prescott's memoir; an important document from Rev. Peter Thatcher; Rev. John Martin's statement; a fine letter from Captain John Chester, a brave and accomplished officer, who was in the battle; to say nothing of various other contemporary MS. letters and documents referred to and quoted. It is rather a question of fact than of argument. The positive language of contemporaries has, at least, as much to do with it, as considerations relative to military rank. Now, whoever professes to thoroughly investigate this subject, and does not cite these authorities fully and fairly, and consider them candidly, makes an unfortunate mistake. How does Mr Swett deal with them?

And the comment is of a piece with the coinage. Mr Swett sees the difficulty--with these words of Ward to take into the account--a writer who desires to be accurate has to meet, if he ascribes to a Connecticut officer the command of the battle, but he removes it in the following curious way:--"Ward was endeavoring to make out a strong case for the Massachusetts against the southern officers. As he knew it was physically impossible for Prescott to have conducted the battle--because he was on foot, and militarily so; because there were generals and other officers older than Prescott on the field--he must have intended to designate himself or Warren as the conductor of the battle. Possibly he intended to claim the honor himself. The first syllable of the word "conducted" has been altered by the pen: he began, perhaps, to write the word "commanded," but, recollecting that he could not claim the command, altered it into "conducted," p. 7. This twisting and syllable business will not answer. General Ward must be dealt with in a straighter way and with more breadth of view.

Mr Swett's statements about Putnam, Warren, Prescott, and the question of command, when brought together, make a singular medley.

Such are the conclusions on the subject of command in the Bunker Hill battle, of "an author in spite of himself," who "thirty-two years ago consented to write an account" of it, and who this year considered it his "duty to enter into a thorough investigation" of this question. History cannot be worth much that resolves itself into such a mass of absurdity and contradiction.

I have done with Mr Swett's pamphlet. A remark relative to his History needs justification.

It has been stated that the narrative of the organization of the army and of the battle of Bunker Hill in the Siege of Boston, differs materially in details from the account of the same events in Mr Swett's History. As an instance of this, as to the former, take the two statements of the action of Rhode Island,--selected because they are the shortest:--

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