In their own way, however, the members of the society intended to observe such centennials as were fitting, and so preparation was made for a suitable commemoration of the battle of Lexington. They held a meeting[1]in the Union League Theatre, the evening of April 19, to protest against their disfranchisement. The journals contained fair reports, with the exception of The Tribune, which sent no reporter, and closed its account next day of many observances elsewhere by saying, "there was no celebration in New York city." Several of the papers published Mrs. Blake's speech:
Just as the first rays of dawn stole across our city this morning, the century was complete since the founders of this nation made their first great stand for liberty. The early April sunshine a hundred years ago saw a group of men and boys gathered together, "a few rods north of the meeting-house," in the Massachusetts village of Lexington. Un-uniformed and undisciplined, standing in the chilly morning, that handful of patriots represented the great Republic which on that day was to spring from their martyrdom. The rebellious colonists had collected in the hamlets near Boston some military stores; these the British officers in command at Boston resolved should be seized and destroyed. Warned of their design Paul Revere made his famous ride to arouse the country to resistance, and in the dead of night Adams and Hancock went out to summon their comrades to arms. As the last stars vanished before the dawn, the drum beat to summon the patriots to action, and in response a little band of about eighty men and boys assembled on the village green. Few as they were in numbers, they presented a brave front as the British regulars came up the quiet street, 200 strong. What followed was not a battle, but a butchery. The minute-men refused to surrender to Major Pitcairn's haughty demand, and a volley of musketry, close and deadly, was poured on this devoted band. In response only a few random shots were fired, which did absolutely no harm, and then, seeing the hopelessness of resistance, the commander of the minute-men ordered them to disperse. The British, elated with their easy victory, pushed on toward Concord, thinking that there another speedy success awaited them. In this they soon bitterly learned their error. Although they were reinforced on the way, when they reached that village they were met by such a resistance as drove them back, broken and disorganized, on the road they had so proudly followed in the morning. Concord nobly avenged the slaughter at Lexington.
So much for what men did on that day, and let us see what share the women had in its dangers and its sorrows. Jonathan Harris was shot in front of his own house, while his wife was watching him from a window, seeing him fall with such anguish as no poor words of mine can describe. He struggled to his feet, the blood gushing from a wound in his breast, staggered forward a few paces and fell again, and then crawled on his hands and knees to his threshold only to expire just as his wife reached him. Did not this woman bear her portion of the martyrdom? Isaac Davis, a man in the prime of life, went forth from his home in the morning, and before the afternoon sunlight had grown yellow, was brought back to it dead, and was laid, pale and cold, in his wife's bed, only three hours after he had left her with a solemn benediction of farewell. Did not this woman also suffer? She was left a widow in the very flower of her youth, and for seventy years she faithfully mourned his taking off! Nor were these the only ones; for every man who fell that day, some woman's heart was wrung. There were others who endured actual physical hardship and suffering. Hannah Adams lay in bed with an infant only a week old when the British reached her house in their disorderly
- ↑ The speakers were Dr. Clemence Lozier, Helen M. Slocum, Henrietta Westbrook, Mrs. Devereux Blake. Mrs. J. E. Frobisher recited Paul Revere's ride, and Helen M. Cooke read the resolutions.
