Medford and her Minute Men, April 19, 1775.
Address by
Hon. Richard B. Coolidge,
Mayor of
Medford, April 19, 1925, at Medford Theatre.
IN
Medford, as in the neighboring cities and towns, we meet today in memory of the men and the events of April nineteenth, 1775.
On that day and in this region roundabout began the
American Revolution.
For that reason the nineteenth of April, in whatever year it falls, speaks for itself.
Today, after the passing of a century and a half, it speaks significantly to us, citizens of the great and prosperous America, whose beginnings were in the first armed stand of the
Minute Men gathered from the towns roundabout us.
Here in
Massachusetts, in the decade preceding that year, from event to event grew the resolve of free men to preserve their liberties.
Here in
Middlesex county on that day, at the flash of the first volley at
Lexington, flamed up the unconquerable spirit of the Revolution.
Here in
Medford her patriot sons, roused in the middle of the night, hurried toward
Lexington in the early hours of the morning, and at this moment in the afternoon were pursuing the retreating
British down the highways through
Cambridge to
Charlestown.
It is a day for
America to remember, for in the gray light of that April morning, on
Lexington common, the course of history changed, and English colonies from that beginning became a great and free people.
It is a day for
Medford to remember for the part her citizen soldiers played in that eventful drama.
If there were reminders needed, they are all about us.
In
Medford and all along the battle road to
Concord stand sentinels of that day. One need not go to
Lexington [p. 38] common or beyond to the
North bridge in
Concord to feel the consciousness that in that region lay the first battle of the Revolution.
One need not scan the roadside markers or read the inscription on the larger monuments.
That whole country side of
Middlesex county speaks of the days of 1775.
The long established roads leading from town to town, the stone walls skirting the highways, the ample houses fitting snugly to the ground against the winter's cold, the generous chimneys where the wood smoke drifted upward from broad hearths, the great elms, the relics of old orchards, the spreading fields and woodlands, all speak of the days of 1775 when families, that were large, lived uncrowded along the Middlesex highways.
Indeed, is there not stamped upon the imagination of the school boy of today who lives in this and neighboring towns the half-formed picture of that day?
Is there not, in the consciousness of all of us, the proud heritage that hereabouts was enacted the first scene of a drama of momentous import?
Before the years take us farther from it, let us pause after the century and a half to bring to mind the spring days of 1775.
When March turned to April one hundred and fifty years ago it ushered in an uneasy spring for the colonists of
Great Britain in
North America.
In
Massachusetts, in
Boston and the neighboring towns, a new restlessness, stimulated as it were by the rays of the spring sunshine, permeated life itself.
It was the outcome of what had gone before.
For ten years, in fact, there had been gathering on the part of the colonists of
Massachusetts against the mother country resentment, resistance, defiance, and finally determination and action to protect and preserve their liberties by force of arms.
The cause lay ten years back in the policy of the English Parliament to impose arbitrary taxes upon the colonists.
In 1763
England had wrested from
France supremacy in
North America.
In that seven years struggle the colonists had served the mother country.
In recognition of that fact
England had remitted to the treasury of
Massachusetts [p. 39] substantial sums in part payment of expenses thus advanced.
In 1765, however, the financial policy of a majority of the
British statesmen sought to reimburse the royal coffers by a tax upon the colonies.
Its first form was a stamp act, so bitterly opposed that it was repealed in less than six months. Next was passed a military act, which provided for the partial subsistence of armed soldiers on the colonists.
Out of this grew the
Boston massacre of March 5, 1770.
In the meantime was passed another act taxing tea and other commodities, but repealed upon all articles except tea in April, 1770.
In Boston the colonists' response was the Boston Tea Party.
Then, in consequence, came the
Boston Port Bill, which on June 1, 1774, closed
Boston as a commercial port and removed the
Custom House to
Salem.
This measure, reinforced by the encampment of four thousand British troops in
Boston, struck at the livelihood of the whole countryside and goaded the colonists into measures of defence.
On October seventh of that year the first Provincial Congress was organized at
Salem with John Hancock as president, and the second in
Concord on February 1, 1775.
In October the
Congress, in considering what was necessary to be done for the safety and defence of the Province, determined upon the purchase of one thousand barrels of powder.
In February it had gone farther and voted to provide military stores sufficient for an army of fifteen thousand men. In the meantime the
Congress, in the language of their resolves, recommended that the inhabitants perfect themselves in the military art.
Such is the skeleton record of events that preceded the meeting of the
Congress in
Concord on April 15, 1775, when, as the journal states, it adjourned upon call ‘considering the great uncertainty of the times.’
It adjourned, too, leaving some hundred barrels of powder scattered, as
General Gage wrote to Lord Dartmouth of the colonial office, ‘in different places up and down the
[p. 40] town.’
Three days later, on the evening of the eighteenth, uncertainty had become more acute, for
Hancock and
Adams slept in
Lexington with a guard of eight men posted at the door.
In all the ominous period that ends for the moment as the patriot leaders slept in the fancied security of
Lexington,
Medford was stirred as were her neighbors.
In 1766, when the Stamp Act was repealed, a great bonfire on
Pasture hill celebrated the passing of that odious measure.
In 1773, when the sons of liberty steeped the
English tea in the
Atlantic, a townsman,
John Fulton, wielded a tomahawk in the righteous cause.
In 1774, in town meeting assembled, the inhabitants voted, ‘That we will not use any
East India tea in our families until the act be repealed.’
In 1774, too, when the
Boston Port Bill brought to a standstill the business of lightering down the
Mystic, the town, though trade was at an end and whole families were in calamity and distress, voted ‘not to approve of any bricks being carried to
Boston until the committees of neighboring towns shall consent to it.’
When
General Gage began the fortification of Boston Neck, the committee of safety in
Medford began to collect ammunition.
It was stored in the powder house which still stands just across the
Somerville line.
Three days before the troops of
General Gage seized the ammunition,
Thomas Patton of
Medford removed the
Medford stores to a place of safety.
In November, 1774, it was voted in town meeting to pay no more province taxes to the royal treasurer.
Later it was voted to pay this money to the treasurer under the Provincial Congress.
In that Congress Benjamin Hall of
Medford represented the townspeople.
As a member of the committee of supplies, he sent to
Concord a large consignment of military stores and material for constructing barracks.
When in the October previous the Provincial Congress
[p. 41] urged the inhabitants to perfect themselves in the military art, that recommendation had been anticipated in
Medford.
Indeed, almost a century and a half before 1775 the townspeople had taken steps to that end, for in 1630 the first tax levied on
Medford inhabitants was one of three pounds to provide for the payment of instructors in military tactics.
It was
John Brooks of
Medford, later
Dr. John Brooks of Reading, and later
Governor Brooks of
Massachusetts, who in the years previous to the Revolution drilled the
Medford youths into a company of militia.
Of that company, in 1775, Isaac Hall was captain.
The Minute Men of
Medford, while
Hancock and
Adams were sleeping in
Lexington on the evening of Tuesday, the eighteenth of April, had dispersed to their homes.
But their flintlocks were within reach, for rumors were rife that action was at hand.
Thus
Medford waited for the day that was to follow.
In the late evening of April eighteenth the waning moon cast a phantasy of light and shadow over the sleeping town.
Down from the hills to the north, almost to the river bottom, spread the dark forest, the
Charlestown wood lots of earlier years, with
Pine hill rising in their midst.
Along the
Mystic ran the way to the Weirs.
From the cross roads near
Cradock's bridge ran the road to
Charlestown, and from the same point, later the market place, led the road to
Salem.
Between the two lay the river road.
From the road to the Weirs, at some distance from
Mystic pond, ran the road around the woods.
Opposite Rock hill the
Woburn road branched off to the towns on the north, reached also by the
Stoneham road, leading from the
Salem highway, up past the great brickyards, where it was lost in the darkness of the wood lots, disturbed only by the lonely howl of a skulking wolf.
Along these highways were gathered most of the houses, but little over a hundred in number, where dwelt less than a thousand townspeople.
Up the road to
Menotomy the moonlight fell upon the steeple
[p. 42] of the third meeting-house, silent in its mid-week desertion.
Beyond the square, about an equal distance down the road to
Charlestown, it greeted the last flickering candle-light in the
Admiral Vernon.
There, too, the vague rumors of the day, discussed at the tavern bar over many a round of ‘flip,’ were lulled in the quiet of the surrounding night.
Medford slept.
But it was a restless sleep, both within and without, where the chill wind of an early spring, coming over the hills, rustled the tree tops as if in apprehension.
In the last hour of that restless day two spots of light carried their rays from the steeple of the North Church in
Boston up the
valley of the Mystic.
With the new day, the nineteenth, a horse and rider burst over the crest of
Winter hill and dashed down the slope along the road from
Charlestown into the sleeping town.
On the left, as they drew nearer the bridge, the rider passed the mansion house of
Isaac Royall, set back in the midst of its ample estate.
The glint of moonlight fell upon its darkened windows, for
Colonel Royall, the Sunday previous, had ridden off in his chariot to
Boston, and was then and thereafter absent from
Medford.
But the house, more steadfast than its master, greets us today as it greeted
Revere in that early morning hour.
Across the
Mystic, at the town square, the horse and rider turned to the left into the road to
Menotomy.
There on the right stood the house of Isaac Hall, captain of the
Minute Men. Here he drew rein.
A knock on the door, a hurried alarm, and with the prompt response of candle light from within,
Medford was again astir.
That sentinel of the past stands in our midst today.
Up the road to
Menotomy the messenger of the night pressed on, by the dark meeting house on the right, up the slope of Marm Simond's hill, by the house of Jonathan Brooks, still standing at the fork of the
Woburn road, over the bridge at the Weirs, into
Menotomy and on toward
Lexington.
So
Paul Revere came into
Medford, and so, lost in the moonlight and the shadows of the lonely road, he left it.
[p. 43]
It was at
Captain Hall's house that he made his first stop on that night ride.
But, in his own language, after leaving
Captain Hall's, he gave the alarm at almost every house on the way to
Lexington.
It is not recorded at what hour of the night
Captain Hall assembled his company of Minute Men. It is certain that from midnight to sunrise, in house after house, the flicker of candle light revealed the household aroused, the flintlock and powder horn passed by hands trembling with excitement to the father or brother who, swinging on his accoutrements, hurried out into the night.
Doubtless before sunrise every household knew that the
British regulars were moving toward
Concord and that the moment of action had come.
We may well believe, as the chroniclers relate, that the repeated gun shots, the beating of drums and the ringing of bells echoed through the air a general alarm.
Of the fifty-nine Minute Men who trooped up the road to
Menotomy where
Paul Revere had passed at midnight, nine bore the name of
Tufts and five the name of
Hall.
The names of the entire company are recorded in ‘A True Record of the Travels and Time of Service of the
Company of Medford Under the Command of Isaac Hall in the Late
Colonel Gardner's Regiment.’
We leave them, then, for a moment tramping along the road beyond the bridge at the Weirs, alert, determined, grasping their flintlocks in the firm grip of men certain of danger but uncertain at what corner of the road it may face them.
The townspeople left behind did not idly leave the business of the day to the fifty-nine who had marched off. After daybreak the town was almost destitute of men, for unorganized volunteers, singly and in groups, took up their own hurried march, eager to be in the fray.
One was
Henry Putnam, in 1758 a lieutenant in the Louisburg campaign, and past the age of military service.
Seizing his flintlock as his wife asked if he were
[p. 44] going without his dinner, he answered, ‘I am going to take powder and balls for my dinner today, or to give them some.’
Another was
the Rev. Edward Brooks.
From his house near the old slave wall on the
Grove street of today, he too went over to
Lexington, and with full-bottomed wig, rode on horseback, his gun on his shoulder.
From the garret window of that house his son, Peter, prompted as we may fancy by the impulse of more than one boy of the age of eight, listened to the guns of the
British at
Menotomy and saw them glisten under the morning sun.
Along with the volunteers, throughout the morning the country people were moving through
Medford toward
Menotomy — in their faces curiosity, suspense, apprehension — in their hearts determination, as they realized that the die was cast.
As the day wore on armed Provincials from other towns trooped through the town.
The road between
Medford and
Salem was the highway leading to the country northeast of
Boston.
To
Malden a horseman from
Medford dashed along this road in the early morning, scattering the alarm.
His name is lost.
The clanging of the meeting-house bell, then on
Bell rock, brought the townspeople of
Malden to the
Kettell's tavern.
There seventy-six men under
Capt. Benjamin Blaney assembled, and with drums beating, marched to
Medford under orders to proceed to
Watertown.
Near Cradock bridge the company halted while the whereabouts of the
British was verified, and then at noon proceeded through the town to
Menotomy.
The same messenger, perhaps, carried the alarm to
Lynn.
At some hour of the morning thirty-eight men from
Lynn marched through
Medford in the direction of the gun-shots up the
Lexington road.
The word reached
Salem and
Danvers at about nine o'clock in the morning of the nineteenth.
The
Danvers men, three hundred and thirty-one of them, without waiting for a full regiment, set off at nine o'clock. Before noon they
[p. 45] came striding through
Medford and in four hours did the march of sixteen miles to
Menotomy.
All these, during the day, came down the
Salem road through the square and followed the route taken by
Captain Hall and his men during the cool hours of the early morning.
The day, in the meantime, had become very warm and the air dry, for the season was so advanced that along the roadside was the waving grass of summer.
Over the same route, in the afternoon, as far as the square, came three hundred men from
Salem.
They turned down the
Charlestown road where, as they reached the top of
Winter hill at the edge of early evening, they witnessed the running fight upon the exhausted
British.
To these Minute Men from other towns, as they passed the house from which her husband,
the Rev. Edward Brooks, had ridden off in the morning,
Abagail Brooks served chocolate—chocolate, but no tea. It was at this house, too, where that militant man of God extended Christian hospitality to a wounded enemy,
Lieutenant Gould of the
King's Own, wounded at
Concord, and while proceeding in a borrowed chaise, captured by the old men of
Menotomy.
In
Medford, he wrote, ‘I am now treated with the greatest humanity and taken all possible care of.’
These, we may imagine, were but instances of the hospitality dispensed by the good wives of
Medford, both at the roadside and the hearthside.
So passed the nineteenth of April in
Medford, and when night came companies from other towns, too late to enter the fight, were quartered in its midst.
But what, meantime, was the business of
Captain Hall and his company who marched off under the waning moon, pressing on after
Paul Revere?
It was about half-past 10 in the evening of April eighteenth that eight hundred British regulars under
Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, having assembled at the foot of
Boston common, now Boylston street, embarked across the
Charles for Lechmere point in East Cambridge.
[p. 46] There began their midnight march to
Lexington through
Cambridge, both to capture
Hancock and
Adams and to destroy the
Provincial stores.
The expedition was intended to be secret.
To prevent his movements from becoming known,
General Gage sent out ten or more sergeants, posted along the highways in
Cambridge and toward
Concord.
It was while the troops at rest on the
Cambridge shore were receiving a day's rations and thirty-six rounds of ammunition that
Revere started from the
Charlestown shore, mounted on
Deacon Larkin's best horse.
He had gone beyond Charlestown Neck, along the
Cambridge road to the point where Crescent street now joins Washington street in
Somerville, when he caught sight of two British officers halted in the shadows by the roadside.
Wheeling his horse, he dashed back along the road to the Neck and turned into the
Mystic road, now
Broadway and Main street in
Somerville, and Main street in
Medford.
It was the two British officers who intercepted
Revere on his intended route to
Cambridge that caused him to make the detour through
Medford.
It is because of those unknown soldiers of the night, lurking in the shadows of the road, that in
Medford and at the house of Isaac Hall was sounded the first alarm on that ride.
It was one o'clock before the
British column left the
Charles river behind them.
By that time
Revere was in
Lexington, and one hour earlier than that
Medford had the news that the
British were moving.
By two o'clock the
King's men were in the present Union square,
Somerville.
By three o'clock, coming up the
Lexington and
Concord road, now Massachusetts avenue, they had halted at the present
Arlington center.
Indeed, the Sons of Liberty were aware of the intended march even before the troops themselves.
In more than one house along the route, as the steady tramp of the advancing column awakened the householders, they peered out upon the strange sight of the passing red coats.
Signal guns and alarm bells rapidly spread the
[p. 47] news, and here in
Arlington,
Smith, realizing the significance of the signal guns and alarm bells, sent back to
General Gage for reinforcements.
At five o'clock the troops had covered the eleven miles to
Lexington.
There on the common, just before sunrise, the light infantry, under
Major Pitcairn, exchanged the first volleys with
Captain Parker's Minute Men who stood in the path of the invading army.
Here, as the
Minute Men fell at sunrise, war began.
To the
British that encounter was little more than a skirmish.
In half an hour, with fife and drum and flying colors, the column moved up the road.
By eight o'clock
Smith's main body had reached its objective six miles further on in
Concord.
There they searched out the stores, and there, between the hours of nine and ten, their advance turned into a retreat in the battle of the
North bridge.
During the entire advance of the
British toward
Concord it is not easy to determine the whereabouts of the
Minute Men from
Medford.
The hour of their starting is not recorded.
One historian writes that they were early on the march.
Nor is the precise extent of their march known.
During the
British advance to
Lexington the troops were unmolested by armed Provincials.
At
Lexington,
Captain Parker's men alone barred the way.
At
Concord it is known that both Minute Men and militia from
Acton,
Bedford,
Lincoln and
Carlisle, together with the
Concord men, bore the brunt of the attack at the bridge.
Captain Hall's men were then doubtless further down the road.
It was noon when
Colonel Smith gave the order to march back to
Boston, a long seventeen miles, long for the able-bodied who had been without sleep since ten o'clock on the evening before, and longer for the wounded, who were now numerous.
As the column moved, the hills along the road were swarming with Provincials— five thousand of them, wrote
Ensign De Bernice of the
[p. 48] tenth regiment.
It is probable that some, at least, of the
Medford Minute Men were among the unorganized troops skirting the road on the higher level of the hills.
Out of
Concord about a mile is
Merriam's corner, and here it is commonly said that
Captain Hall's men fell in with the Reading company under
Major John Brooks.
Here the battle suspended at the
North bridge was renewed, with fatalities on both sides.
At this point American reinforcements came in, to the number of one thousand one hundred and forty-seven, bringing their forces, at the most, up to fifteen hundred, somewhat less than the five thousand who appeared in the exaggerated vision of the ensign.
In no formal list of the reinforcements do the
Medford men appear.
Tradition, however, is to the contrary.
For present purposes we may again adopt the words of
De Bernice when, in reference to the progress of the troops through
Lincoln into
Lexington he wrote, ‘The Provincials kept the road always lined and a very hot fire on us without intermission.
We began to run rather than retreat in order.’
So, too, later reported his lieutenant-colonel, that the firing on his troops ‘increased to a very great degree and continued without the intermission of five minutes altogether for, I believe, upwards of eighteen miles.’
If the
Medford men were not among the Provincials who carried on the running attack both on the main column and the flanking parties, there was other business for them along the road below
Lexington.
When
Smith reached
Arlington on his advance twelve hours earlier, alarmed by the general uprising that was becoming evident he sent back to
General Gage for reinforcements.
A thousand men under Lord Percy proceeded to his relief.
Their progress from Boston Neck through
Roxbury, Brighton,
Cambridge and
Arlington was not unmolested.
At
Arlington, for instance, the old men of
Menotomy lay in wait and captured his entire baggage train, driving the horses off to
Medford.
Between
[p. 49] two and three o'clock his column reached
Lexington about opposite the present high school and there, opening their ranks, received into that welcome shelter
Smith's exhausted troops.
It was nearly four o'clock when the
British forces again moved.
Their progress, marked by pillage and burning, evidenced
Percy's conception of the warfare that his exigencies warranted.
The Minute Men, now bitterly aroused, continued the attack down the road into the present
Arlington.
There the
Americans, under
General Heath and
Doctor Warren, rallied and attacked
Percy's rear guard.
Here some eighteen hundred men reinforced the Provincials.
Among these companies are all those who are definitely known to have marched through
Medford to
Menotomy earlier in the day. Here are listed as entering the battle
Captain Hall of
Medford, fifty-nine men;
Captain Blaney of
Malden, seventy-five men;
Captain Bancroft of
Lynn, thirty-eight men; and eight companies of
Danvers men, totaling three hundred and thirty-one men. It thus appears that these companies, among others, may have been definitely held at
Menotomy, or in the uncertainty that attended the direction of the unorganized American forces, that they awaited the developments of the day at this point.
At the base of
Pierce's hill, now
Arlington heights, the battle raged along the highway to
Arlington center.
Between the house of
Jason Russell, still standing on Jason street, and the center of the village, the fighting reached its climax.
Altogether in
Arlington on that afternoon twenty-five Provincials fell or were mortally wounded.
Among them were
Henry Putnam and
William Polly of
Medford.
It was between five and six o'clock that
Percy crossed into
Cambridge, then into the present city of
Somerville at the corner of Beach and Elm streets, down Somerville avenue into Union square, and so on down Washington street along the then Cambridge road. Soon after sunset the column reached
Charlestown common, now
[p. 50] Sullivan square, and wheeled up
Bunker hill.
The
British were back in
Charlestown.
All along this route the
Minute Men kept up the attack upon the exhausted and disordered British, sometimes in organized attack, sometimes in personal encounter.
Among the troops that followed the
British down into
Charlestown were the
Minute Men of
Medford.
So ended the battle of April nineteenth, and while the women and children of
Charlestown were fleeing in terror across the marshes to
Medford, the
Medford company proceeded to
Cambridge, which became the headquarters of the
American army.
But how looked at these events Hugh Earl Percy, whose men that night recrossed the
Charles in the boats of the
Somerset, which swung in the tide as
Paul Revere, the night before, passed under its shadow?
On August 8, 1774,
Percy wrote to
Henry Reveley,
Esq.,
Peckham,
Surrey, ‘The people here are a set of sly, artful, hypocritical rascalls, cruel, & cowards.
I must own I cannot but despise them completely.’
On April 20, 1775, in an unofficial account of the retreat, he wrote
General Harvey, ‘We retired for 15 m under an incessant fire, wh like a moving circle surrounded & fold us wherever we went, till we arrived at
Charlestown at 8 in the ev'g, . . . Whoever looks upon them as an irregular mob, will find himself much mistaken. . . . You may depend upon it, that as the
Rebels have now had time to prepare, they are determined to go throa with it, nor will the insurrection here turn out so despicable as it is perhaps imagined at home.
For my part, I never believed, I confess, that they wd have attacked the
King's troops, or have had the preserverance I found in them yesterday.’
To the
Duke of
Northumberland he wrote on August 18, 1775, ‘My dearest Father: . . . I have enclosed a newspaper containing copies of some letters wrote by some of the principal people at the
Congress, wh were intercepted by us. You will perceive from them that
[p. 51] their aim is (what I am convinced it has ever been) Independence.’
To that end rose
Medford and her Minute Men one hundred and fifty years ago today.
Bibliography.
Wild, Medford in the Revolution. Medford, past and present. Usher, History of Medford. Cutter, History of Arlington. Sears, Menotomy. Arlington, past and present. Corey, History of Malden. Farrington, Paul Revere and his famous ride. Bolton, Letters of Hugh Earl Percy. Murdock, The nineteenth of April. French, The day of Concord and Lexington. Coburn, The battle of April 19, 1775. Hooper, Roads of old Medford and bridges in Medford. (Medford Historical Register, 1899). Old Medford houses and Estates. (Medford Historical Register, 1904.) Dyer, Sons of liberty. Brown, Beneath old roof-trees.