Lexington and Concord: The 19th of April, 1775

Murdock

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9780486838274
• eBook ISBN: 9780486844305
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Early American History
• Index: History

The "shot heard round the world" that ignited the American Revolution was fired when a passing force of British soldiers encountered a colonial militia on the village green in Lexington, Massachusetts. Who fired that shot? The British claimed it was an American; the Americans insisted on the opposite. Many romantic legends about embattled colonists and ruthless redcoats arose in the succeeding years.  This was the first book to critically examine and debunk some of the fictions surrounding the events of April 19, 1775, and it was hailed by American Heritage magazine as "probably the most forceful single revision of a major episode in American history."
Historian Harold Murdock drew upon extensive documentary evidence in assembling this study, including written accounts that only came to light decades after the war. His fascinating insights include interpretations of a series of artistic representations of the confrontation, beginning with a near-contemporary depiction of the colonials in full retreat that's eventually supplanted by a portrait of the Americans' bold defiance. Readers will find the factual accounts of this concise and witty history as heroic and dramatic as any myth.

III

EARL PERCY’S RETREAT TO
CHARLESTOWN

III

EARL PERCY’S RETREAT TO CHARLESTOWN

THE casual observer who visits Lexington today might carry away the idea that Percy was the presiding genius of the place. While he made but one visit to the town, and that of a flying nature, he has always been numbered as among its distinguished guests. He received a warm, if not a cordial, reception; and if he did not endear himself to the townsfolk of the time, he might have pleaded in defence that when in Rome he did as the Romans did. The old Munroe Tavern has, on quite insufficient grounds, been christened “Earl Percy’s Headquarters,” and the renovated rooms of the ancient hostelry contain, among other battle relics, prints and documents that have to do with him. The pleasant road winding up the slope behind the tavern now bears his name; a gun-site chosen by his artillerymen is marked by a rude imitation of a cannon carved from solid rock; while in the Cary Library hangs his portrait in oil, a gift to the town from a modern Duke of Northumberland.

There is far more in Lexington suggestive of Percy than of Captain Parker. The bronze effigy of the Minute-Man gazing steadfastly down the old Boston road idealizes the spirit of Parker’s command, but in no sense portrays the visage of Parker himself. On the Common, cut in stone, are certain words attributed to Parker which we may hope, nay believe, that he never uttered. These are almost the only reminders of the Lexington Captain that confront the tripper on his hasty rounds. I would not convey the impression that Lexington has proved recreant to its Revolutionary traditions, or that it has turned to the worship of false idols. At a town meeting called a few years ago to consider the naming of “Percy Road,” the spirit of 1775 blazed forth in unmistakable fervor. That there was a contest proved that the citizens were keenly alive to their historic inheritance, while the final result reflected great credit upon their sportsmanship and common sense.

Let us now try to imagine ourselves as standing in old Lexington on that bright April afternoon one hundred and forty-eight years ago. I will ask you to believe that the First Brigade has been for more than five hours on the march; that the precocious lad in Roxbury has discharged with credit his declamation of the suggestive lines from the “Ballad of Chevy Chase”; that the absent-minded tutor in Harvard Square has directed Percy along the right road and become one of the most innocent of offenders; that Percy has held his informing interview with the wounded Gould as he reclined in his chaise; and that now, at half-past two in the afternoon, the whole brigade stands drawn up in line of battle on the high ground east of Lexington Village.*

We should also refresh our memories as to certain well-known facts: namely, that the Brigade came out in response to Smith’s early warning that the country was aroused; that there was a delay in starting, because of a staff blunder thoroughly characteristic of the military annals of the Anglo-Saxon race;† that the long road through Roxbury was followed because all boats for river-transportation were still moored on the Cambridge side of the Charles to await Smith’s return; that the Brigade was made up of the 4th, 23d, and 47th Regiments of Foot,* the First Battalion of Marines, and a detachment of the Royal Artillery; and that the total strength of the command was something less than one thousand men.†

In considering Earl Percy’s activities, let us first review briefly his military conduct in the handling of a difficult problem, and then consider with more care the charges of brutality and vandalism that have been levelled against him. Perhaps at the outset it will be well to glance at the fourth print of Doolittle’s well-known series, entitled “A View of the South Part of Lexington.” This portrays the meeting of Smith and Percy near the junction of the Boston and Woburn roads. The Provincials appear in the foreground, huddled behind the walls that line the last-named thoroughfare. The Brigade is still in route formation, facing the Common, while its flank guards are seen at work clearing up the hillsides. A field-piece is just going into action, and Smith’s jaded column can be seen in the background, moving off by their right flank to gain the rear of the Brigade. The British soldiers appear more like birds than men; and once again the thought recurs that Doolittle has attempted a political caricature in portraying them as birds of prey. You will note, however, that the minute-men in the plate present the same aspect, and that the phenomenon is all traceable to Doolittle’s faulty conception of the cut of a military coat. From which we may infer that, if Doolittle was a bad engraver, he would have been a greater failure as a tailor. With a magnifying-glass we can make out Percy and Smith on horseback, in close consultation. That they appear like scarlet vultures does not detract from the value or realism of the view. But the really dominant features in Doolittle’s engraving are the smoke and flames that hang in rigid, petrified masses above three burning houses. It has been asserted that the greatest British devastation in Lexington was wrought almost in Percy’s presence, and Doolittle’s print supplies powerful support to the charge.

The work of Doolittle in his series of Lexington prints is invaluable for its portrayal of local topography and for the record it gives of the current idea of the provincial dispositions and activities. On the other hand, we should remember that his conception of British alignments must in the nature of things be less dependable. It is doubtful if Smith with a ball in his leg was able to sit his horse while he conferred with Percy, as indicated in the print. To represent the Brigade as moving along the road in column of twos at this juncture is, of course, wholly inaccurate. We know on the clearest evidence that at the time the Grenadiers and Light Infantry were passing through Lexington Village, Percy had formed in line of battle, and was swinging his six-pounders into position. It is probable, however, that, as depicted in the print, Smith did move by his right flank, passing through or around Percy’s left to safety and shelter.

Percy had never imagined such a situation as he found at Lexington. He possessed military experience; he had served under Ferdinand of Brunswick, had fought at Minden, and was well versed in military science as it was then practised on the Continent. But now he found himself for the first time in a supreme command, facing a problem that was unique and bewildering, one for which European military formulas afforded no satisfactory solution. Had he been in telephonic communication with Boston, he might have been weak enough to call up General Gage and seek counsel from that timid and anxious man. Lacking this facility, he had to rely upon his military instinct and resourcefulness. He knew that the aim of his adversaries was to destroy or capture his command, and that his plain duty was to conduct that command safely to Boston with the minimum of loss. He was unrestrained by any of those political considerations that benumbed the royal commanders in the later years of the Revolution. He believed that war had begun, and that not only was he powerless to avert the shedding of blood, but the safety of his men would require the infliction of the maximum of damage upon his foe. In this conviction he girded his loins and hardened his heart for the task before him. There can be no doubt that he listened to Smith’s story and probably to Pitcairn’s and Bernard’s too. We know what he learned as well as if he had recorded it in black and white for the benefit of posterity. The troops had marched from Concord under an incessant fire from unseen enemies concealed in houses and behind walls. Houses apparently deserted had been found by the rear guard to be full of armed enemies. The Americans had reverted to the methods of Indian warfare, not omitting — so it was alleged — the scalping of the wounded.

The first necessity of the case was to secure for Smith’s shattered detachment some brief opportunity to recuperate from the fatigue and strain of twelve hours’ rough campaigning. So, ordering Bernard and Pitcairn to look well to their men and to care for the wounded at Munroe’s Tavern, Percy proceeded to clear away a zone that should be free from rebel musketry. His orders received prompt and ready obedience. Strong flank guards clambered along the slopes above the road, the field-pieces began to bark, and a round shot went crashing and splintering through the meeting-house of the Reverend Jonas Clark. There has been a persistent effort to include this shot in the list of Percy’s barbarities. The Reverend Abel Muzzey, in 1877, in recording his boyish memories of the aged men who had stood with Parker at Lexington, refers to this event as an “act of desecration,”* and quotes from the anniversary sermon of the Reverend Isaac Morrill, preached at Lexington in 1780, wherein he also emphasizes the impiety of the deed.† Inasmuch, however, as British witnesses record a provincial concentration within the shadow of the sacred edifice,‡ as we know that the place was used for the storage of the town supply of powder, and that no less a person than Colonel Baldwin, of Woburn, was narrowly missed by the flying ball, I think we are warranted in including this achievement of the Royal Artillery as among the justifiable acts of war.

”Houses and walls” —how many times had these words been dinned into Percy’s ears during the scant sixty minutes of his halt! They were doubtless in his mind when his glance fell upon Deacon Loring’s buildings and his well-laid stone walls. Perhaps the windows raked the road at too advantageous an angle; perhaps the structures interfered with the range of his artillery; at all events, it is certain that the walls offered tempting cover for a hostile force. So the command was given, and Deacon Loring’s buildings went up in flames and two hundred rods of his stone wall came down in dust. Two other dwellings also were fired, and Percy sat his white charger, watching the operations of flank guards, artillery, and uniformed incendiaries, and grimly approved it all.

It has been customary to ascribe these acts to the revengeful vandalism of a frenzied and humiliated soldiery, and to allege that by condoning such outrages Percy made himself an accessory after the fact. But surely it is a more sensible theory to assume that the damage was wrought by Percy’s express command, as a necessary measure of protection for his men. We must remember that the Brigade still stood in battle-line, that straggling under such conditions was well-nigh impossible, and that there is not the slightest reason to suppose that these men were infected with any fury or that they were not under perfect control. The Grenadiers and Light Infantry had gone to the rear, and must have been concentrated in the vicinity of the tavern. I am very strongly of the opinion that, being in close proximity to Landlord Munroe’s bar, they were giving their officers a thoroughly bad quarter of an hour. It is evident that the burning of houses and the destruction of walls were simultaneous parts of an orderly military operation. Smith’s soldiers, described by Stedman as so exhausted that they lay on the ground, “their tongues hanging out of their mouths, like those of dogs after a chase,”* could certainly be trusted not to bestir themselves against stone walls; nor is it more reasonable to assume that the men of the Brigade, after a forced march of sixteen miles, with the knowledge that there were many more to go, would have entered upon any such athletic enterprise except by imperative order. You may demur at this theory, and question my decision to regard the destruction wrought by the troops during the halt in Lexington as justifiable military acts; but, surely, any theory is more reasonable than that, on the very threshold of a most difficult enterprise, Percy should have been willing to adopt or abet any course of action detrimental to the discipline and control of his troops. If, on the other side of Styx, Percy has been permitted to commune with the shades of Deacon Loring and the Widow Mulliken, I am sure that it required but a few words from him upon military practice, and the nature of his problem, to convince them that the destruction of their property was not wanton, but necessitated by certain grave responsibilities that rested upon him as a soldier.

Active along the line of the Brigade, and busier still in the confusion down by the tavern, are certain young officers with whom generations of American historians have had a long but by no means cordial acquaintance. We are reviewing an old familiar episode of our local history, which for nearly a century and a half has inspired all sorts of publications and all sorts of enthusiasm and oratory. If my version proves out of harmony with generally accepted tradition, it is due in part to what I have learned from these youthful soldiers of the King. I set small store by a British official report, and treat it with the same caution that I exercise toward a provincial affidavit supplied on rush order from the local Congress at Watertown. ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Preface
• Contents
• Illustrations
• I. Historic Doubts on the Battle at Lexington
• II. The British at Concord
• III. Earl Percy’s Retreat to Charlestown