Reminiscences of Sixty Years in Public Affairs/Chapter 16
XVI
ACTON MONUMENT
WHILE I held the office of Governor, two memorial events occurred, of some importance. The first was the erection and dedication of a monument in the town of Acton, to the memory of Captain Isaac Davis, and two others, who were killed the 19th of April, 1775, at the Old North Bridge in Concord. A feud had existed for many years between the towns of Concord and Acton each claiming the honors of the battlefield on that date. Of Concord it was alleged that not a drop of blood was lost on the occasion. Recently, however, it is claimed that one man was wounded. As to Acton there was no doubt that Captain Davis with his company was assigned to the right of the line, and to the head of the advancing column, although he was not by seniority entitled to that place. Davis and two of his company were killed by the first fire of the enemy. In 1836 Concord had erected a monument which Emerson has immortalized in his dedication hymn. James T. Woodbury, a brother of Judge Levi Woodbury, was an orthodox minister settled in Acton. He was interested in politics, and in the year 1851 he was a member of the House of Representatives, where he championed the cause of Acton. He asked for an appropriation of one thousand dollars to enable the town to erect a suitable monument. He adorned his speech and gave effect to his oratory by the introduction of the shoe-buckles which Davis wore, and the powder horn which another of the victims carried on the day of the fight. The appropriation was granted. The preceding year the town of Concord had celebrated the seventy-fifth anniversary of the battle. Robert Rantoul, Jr., delivered the oration. The town of Acton was represented, but the president of the day, the Hon. E. R. Hoar, chose, as it was said, to avoid calling upon Parson Woodbury, as he was then designated. A Mr. Hayward, a man of some note, but not gifted in speech, was invited to respond to the toast to Acton. That he did in this manner: “Concord Fight. Concord furnished the ground, and Acton the men.” This sally of history and sarcasm was attributed to Parson Woodbury.
The Governor was made a member of the committee to erect the monument. Our first real difficulty was upon the inscription. It was claimed that Davis had said as he took his place at the head of the line “I haven’t a man who is afraid to go.” This indicated that cowardice had been manifested in some quarter. Woodbury insisted that this expression should be included in the inscription. I was opposed to its use on account of the implication it contained, and also for the reason that it was no easy matter to incorporate it in a sentence that would be tolerable upon granite. Mr. Woodbury wrote two inscriptions. General Cushing tried his hand. I prepared one or two. Finally Woodbury triumphed, and the monument bears the words attributed to Davis. I was invited to deliver the address at the dedication, October 29, 1851, and the Rev. John Pierpont was invited to deliver the poem. The exercises were in a large tent capable of seating a thousand persons at dinner. The day was dull but the attendance was large. The soldiers were on duty at an early hour, and they were ready for dinner when they entered the tent at about eleven o’clock. The tables were spread and the soldiers and guests took their seats at the tables, but under an injunction that the repast would not begin until the address and poem had been delivered. Fortunately the address came first. The delivery occupied an hour or more. Mr. Pierpont commenced reading his poem, but before he had made any considerable progress, a slight clicking of knives was heard from the extreme portion of the tent. Mr. Pierpont was an excitable man. He had a reputation as a preacher, lecturer and poet. It was apparent from his flushed face that his pride was wounded. I expected that Mr. Woodbury, who was president of the day, would rise and ask the guests to abstain from eating until Mr. Pierpont had finished reading his poem. The parson gave no sign, however. The disturbance increased, and finally, Mr. Pierpont, with face flushed to purple, threw his manuscript under the box from which he was reading, and sat down. I then expected that the president would demand order. On the contrary, he stuck his hands straight into the air, and said: “Let us ask a blessing.” This he did with singular brevity, and sitting down he helped himself from a plate of chicken that stood before him, and at the same time turning to Mr. Pierpont he said: “They listened very well, ’till you got to Greece. They didn’t care anything about Greece.”
In the preparation of my address I found from the records that the town of Acton had as early as the year 1774 declared, by resolution in town meeting, in favor of an American Republic, adding: “This is the only form of government we wish to see established.” Upon my own investigation and upon the opinion of Mr. Webster, whom I consulted, I ventured to say that this was the earliest declaration in favor of a republic that was officially made in the American colonies.
My address ran as follows:
ADDRESS ON THE ACTON MONUMENT
The events of the American Revolution can never fail to interest Americans. This assemblage, men of Middlesex, is an assurance that you cherish the Revolutionary character of your county, and that you will be true to the obligations and duties which it imposes.
The event we commemorate is not of local interest only. It has, however, little value on account of the number of men who fought or who fell; but it lives as the opening scene of a great revolution based on principle, and destined to change the character of human governments and the condition of the human race. The 19th of April, 1775, is not immortal because men fell in battle, but because they fell choosing death rather than servitude. The mere soldier who fights without a cause is unworthy our respect, but he who falls in defence of sound principles or valued rights deserves a nation’s gratitude. Hence the battlefields of the Revolution shall gain new lustre, while Austerlitz and Waterloo shall be dimmed by the lapse of ages. Each nation cherishes and recurs to the leading events in its history. Time increases the importance of some of them and diminishes the magnitude of others. Many of them are eras in the history of countries and the world. Such are the lives of great men—philosophers, poets, orators, and statesmen. Such are battles and conquests, the foundation of new empires and the fall of old ones, changes in governments, and the administrations of renowned monarchs. Such were the conquest of Greece, the division of the Macedonian empire, the rise and fall of Rome, the discovery and settlement of this continent, the English commonwealth, the accession of William and Mary to the British throne, the American Revolution, and, finally, the wars, empire, and overthrow of Napoleon. A knowledge of these events is not only valuable in itself, but it enables us to penetrate the darkness which usually obscures the daily life and character of a people. A true view of the life of Socrates gives us an accurate idea of Athens and the Athenian people. The protectorate of Cromwell, the great event in all English history, presents a view of the British nation while passing from an absolute government to a limited monarchy, slowly but certainly tending to republicanism.
The American Revolution was a clear indication in itself of what the colonies had been, and what the republic was destined to be. Had the Revolution been delayed, no history, however minute, could have given to the world as accurate knowledge of the colonists from 1770 to 1780 as it now possesses. It was the full development of all their history; it was the concise, vigorous, intelligible introduction to their future. It was a great illustration of pre-existing American character. Neither religious nor political fanaticism was an element of the American Revolution. It was altogether defensive—defensive in its assertion of principles—defensive in its warlike operations.
It is true that the Revolution was an important step towards freedom and equality, but the Revolutionists did not primarily contemplate the destruction or abandonment of the principles of the British government, but rather their preservation and perpetuity; and this in a great degree they accomplished. The two governments are dissimilar in many respects, but the principles which lie at the foundation of the one led to the formation of the other.
The Revolution was conservative. There was always a strong desire in the American mind to preserve, perpetuate, and improve existing institutions. Our fathers were not the enemies of government. They were ready at all times to sustain a government founded upon and recognizing the principles of equality and justice. Nor did they imagine that society could exist without the agency of a government in which force should be an element. In the early part of the struggle, while they denounced the policy of the British Ministry, they gave to the principles of the British system an unequivocal support. Many looked only to a reproduction of the home government upon these shores, but that was as impossible as the continuance of English authority.
It is vain to search for the particular cause, or even occasion, of the Revolution. It is not contained in any act of Parliament, or declaration of rights, or assertion of authority. The truth is, the colonies had reached that point of conscious strength when they must become an integral part of the British Empire, or be separated entirely from it. If there ever had been, there was no longer a feeling of dependence; they were capable of self-support and protection. There could be no allegiance except upon principles of equality—and this England refused. The connection was unnatural and burdensome—the separation was natural and beneficial. It is not a declaration of the law alone which limits the control of the father over the son, but in the order of nature there is a time when the son is capable of self-judgment, and thereafter as regards rights they are upon terms of equality, and all civil and social arrangements proceed upon that theory.
But had Great Britain proposed union in 1775 to us, as in 1800 she did to Ireland, the obstacles were so serious that a separation must ultimately have taken place. One was the breadth of ocean between the two parts of the empire—then, and for sixty years, a more serious obstacle than at present. Another was the peerage—a part of the British system which could not have been abolished without the overthrow of the government, and yet incapable of introduction here. The proposition would have shocked the moral sentiment and the political principles of the whole people. And finally, our growing commerce, uneasy under monopolizing restraints and rival domination, demanded the freedom of the sea. Therefore it is evident that a union could not have been formed with any hope of permanence and power. Nor could the separation have taken place at a more fortunate time. The whole world would have had cause to regret our participation in the wars of Napoleon, and from them we were saved by independence.
Although the existence of these natural sources of alienation and disunion must be admitted, they furnish no justification for the general policy of England—first negligent, then jealous, then oppressive, and finally reckless and sanguinary.
But we have come together from our various pursuits to contemplate the virtue and power of the American Revolution in itself and in its consequences, to show that the sentiment of gratitude is not dead within us—and finally, and above all, to thank God for the choice displays of His goodness to the American people.
There are men who deny the virtue of the Revolution. They do it in obedience to the doctrine that all wars are wrong. But those only can consistently maintain this doctrine who also maintain that all governments are wrong. The idea of government includes the idea that there are governing and governed parties to it. In this country the two are united. But all governments which have ever existed, including our own, make war upon those who forcibly question their authority, undermine their power, violate their laws, outrage the persons or property of their citizens. These are acts of hostility against a state, and are prevented or redressed by force—the element of war. Therefore, in principle, the daily operations of a government in time of peace are not to be distinguished from its movements in war; and in war as well as in peace each government is responsible for the manner in which it exercises its authority.
If we may employ force in support of good government, we may also employ force in the overthrow of a bad government. If we may forcibly defend a natural right, we may employ force to regain natural rights of which we have been disseized. It is admitted amongst us that of all wars the Revolution is the most easily to be defended; but I desire to see it occupy the high moral ground which the most paternal and beneficial government occupies when it defends the natural and inalienable rights of its citizens.
The real question was this: Who may of right govern the North American colonies? the colonists themselves, or the Parliament of Great Britain? In the colonies there was no difference of opinion upon this point, though there was some as to the mode of securing its exercise. If, then, the right of self-government were in the colonists, did they use all proper means of securing its exercise previous to a resort to arms? They spent ten years in the work of petition, remonstrance and expostulation—and those ten years of experience convinced the people that the policy of the British Ministry and Parliament was fixed and irreversible; that there was only resistance to the execution of this policy on the one hand, and submission, which must end in abject slavery, on the other. If the American Revolution be morally indefensible, then not only are all wars indefensible, but all human governments, the wisest and the best, equally so.
The sentiment of the Revolution was altogether moral. There was an entire absence of the spirit of revenge, or rapine, or blood. They never for a moment placed as much reliance upon their numbers and strength as upon the justice of their cause and the existence of a Supreme Ruler, who controls the affairs of men. Such was the tone of the press, the pulpit and the bar. Everywhere the morality of the contest was examined and the ground carefully tested at each step. Not by leading men only, but by all those who had a vote to give in a town meeting or an arm to sustain the weapons of war. They were no zealots, like the crusaders; but plain, careful men, of sound moral perception and correct judgment. It is true that they were descendants of those who rejoiced when Charles the First was beheaded and James the Second was dethroned. This feeling, however, had no mixture of cruelty in it, but it proceeded from a conviction that those monarchs were unworthy of the throne. Their impulses were always in favor of liberty. They sympathized with the members of the Republican Party in England, encouraged them at home, and welcomed them to these shores.
The Revolution was no sudden outbreak or the consummation of the wild enthusiasm which sometimes characterizes popular movements. All through our colonial and provincial history, questions had arisen and been discussed which prepared the public mind for independence. The strength of the revolutionary spirit in the different colonies bore a distinct relation to the fervor of the preceding local controversies.
It is impossible to say at what moment the public mind was steadily directed to independence, either as a possible or desirable termination of the controversies with the mother country. Both the war with France and the peace with France precipitated the American Revolution. The war, by developing the military courage and skill of our people, and by increasing the burdens of Great Britain, thus affording a pretext for additional taxation on America. The peace, by relieving the colonies of the presence of a foe which they dreaded on its own account, as well as for its active agency in stimulating the Indians to deeds of hostility. Thus, in fact, England exchanged the thirteen colonies to which she was allied by blood, language, and similarity of institutions, for the provinces of France, whose people even now reject her religion and system of government. Thus the success of the combined British and American forces in the French war developed the revolutionary spirit, created new issues, and led to the early dismemberment of the British Empire.
But omitting the settlement of the country and the causes which led to it, there are incidents all along our history which weakened the power of the home government. The most important, perhaps, were the decree in chancery of 1684, which annulled the colonial charter, and the grant of a new charter in 1692 by William and Mary. The first was an act of unmitigated despotism, the second of short-sighted selfishness. The decree in chancery was universally offensive, and the provincial charter was accepted, because the colonists had no hope of any thing better. Thus the character of the government was changed fundamentally without the consent of the governed. The arrow aimed at colonial independence rankled in the public breast until the independence of America was achieved. The effort to strengthen British authority, in reality weakened it. Previous to 1684 religious profession was the basis of political rights, and the clergy gave direction to the policy of the state. John Cotton well states the result of the colony charter, to wit: “Such a form of government, as best serveth to establish their religion, should, by the consent of all, be established in the civil state.” “The effect of this constitution was, first, that none but members of the church were freemen of the state; secondly, as none could be church members whom the minister did not approve, it followed that the ecclesiastical ruler had an efficient negative on the admission of every freeman; and thereby, as excommunication from the church created a civil, as well as ecclesiastical disability, it also followed that both the attainment and continuance of political rights were, to all practical purposes, in the hands of ecclesiastical rulers.” By the provincial charter all this was abolished. The new government had exclusively for its end “the things about which the civil power is usually conversant; goods, lands, honors, the liberties and peace of the outward man.” The influence of the clergy, at all times very great in New England, was thus separated from the English government, and they were at once identified in sympathy, hopes, and prospects, with the people of the colony. As I shall have occasion hereafter to say, this influence was essential to the success of the Revolution.
It is not likely that any form of government which Great Britain could have established, especially if it excluded our people from its control, could have maintained the union twenty-five years longer than the relation actually existed. The future in some particulars was as full of hope then to them as it is now to us. Many of their anticipations were so sanguine that the reality has not been equal to them. In 1763 an estimate was made that the population of New England in 1835 would be 4,000,000. From this it is apparent that they had already tasted prosperity and had come to understand the advantages of our country, especially in the character of its population, over the old countries of Europe.
The British Ministry did not discover the means by which the colonies were to be retained, if retained at all. Our ancestors had little respect for hereditary privileges and the pretensions of birth. They were for the most part believers in the equality of the human race; and, moreover, in their municipal governments, they had learned the safety and power of universal suffrage. A few men only in England had an accurate idea of American principles, or the difficulty of holding in unwilling embrace three million people. Among the representatives of this small class were the elder Pitt, Burke, and Wilkes.
Pitt declared that “three million people, so dead to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily to submit to be slaves, would have been fit instruments to make slaves of ourselves.”
Said Wilkes, “Know, then, that a successful resistance is a revolution, not a rebellion. Who can tell whether in a few years the independent Americans may not celebrate the glorious era of the revolution of 1775 as we do that of 1688?” Nor did his prophetic eye fail to penetrate even the distant future. “Where your fleets and armies are stationed,” said he, “the possession will be secured, while they continue; but all the rest will be lost. In the great scale of empire, you will decline, I fear, from the decision of this day; and the Americans will rise to independence, to power, to all the greatness of the most renowned states; for they build on the solid basis of general public liberty.” These were words of wisdom; but nations, like individual men, learn anything sooner than their own faults, and confess anything sooner than their own mistakes.
It is difficult for the historian to understand the policy of attempting to control America by force; for nothing is more certain than that, if we had failed in establishing our independence, Great Britain would also have failed in subjecting us to her schemes. After the shedding of blood at Lexington, reconciliation was impossible; nor is it certain that it could have been accomplished after the massacre in King Street, in 1770. To be sure the proceedings of the towns and the tone of all the memorials and petitions indicate this; but there were unquestionably men who thought it better that the connection should be dissolved at as early a period as possible. These men were right, both as regards our condition and the prosperity of England. Had we remained her subjects, like all colonies, we should have been of no advantage pecuniarily, and most likely a source of some expense. But with independence and the Constitution came prosperity to us, in which, through trade and the increased demand for her manufactures, England has largely participated.
Had she consented, in 1775, to the peaceful dismemberment of her empire, the independence of America, under such circumstances, would have increased her glory, spared her treasury, and saved her laborers from the pressure of taxes under which they have been weighed down. It may be, however, that the war was necessary to us. In ante-Revolutionary times there was not a strong tendency to union—in many parts of the country the opposite feeling existed. Even the Constitution was framed with difficulty, and received with hesitation and doubt. The Constitution is not so much the result as the cause of our national character. The colonies had had different foundations. Some were English, some were Dutch, some were Roundheads, some Cavaliers, some were Catholics, some Protestants, some Baptists, some Quakers, some Congregationalists; and, finally, some of the colonies were free and some held slaves. It is apparent that there was not that tendency to union which was necessary to the formation of the Constitution. But the mutual dependence which the mutual necessities of the war produced convinced many of the propriety of a common government—a government which should be adequate to a time of peace and to a condition of war—a government which should guard each State from civil commotion and protect its citizens and commerce in every part of the world. It is evident that the free surrender of jurisdiction would have left the colonies to many years of separate existence, and controversies which might have passed into open hostility. The period between peace and the adoption of the Constitution was hardly more desirable than the previous condition of war. The currency was disordered and without value, the revenue systems of the different States were various and injurious to legitimate commerce, while the want of uniform laws upon subjects altogether national, was everywhere observed. A general government, adequate to the necessities of the nation, was not established until the inadequacy of the State governments had been felt in peace and war; but war more than peace created bonds of sympathy, and inspired confidence among the States.
The Revolution opened in Massachusetts. This province having been marked by the British Government, was not at all reluctant to take a prominent position in the controversies from 1765 to 1775. Therefore the attack was properly directed here, and here with equal propriety the first forcible resistance was made to British aggression.
The difficulties with Massachusetts were a century old. The colony charter had been annulled—her territory on the Merrimack and the Narragansett had been transferred to neighboring colonies, and the men whom she had elected to preside in her House of Representatives had been repeatedly rejected.
There had been from the first an ardent desire in the colony to establish a free Christian commonwealth, and on the part of England to maintain, if not extend, the power of the British Parliament. In May, 1774, as the representative of the latter purpose, General Gage arrived in Boston, and was soon followed by considerable bodies of troops. In August of the same year measures were taken for a Provincial Congress, to concert and execute an effectual plan for counteracting the system of despotism which had been introduced. The Congress instructed the general officers “effectually to oppose and resist” all attempts to execute the obnoxious acts of the British Parliament; and by a singular coincidence on the same day, February 9, 1775, the Parliament pledged the lives and property of the Commons to the support of these laws. On the side of the Americans, the courts were declared unconstitutional and their officers traitors—and the practice of the military art was earnestly recommended.
By the 1st of September, 1774, the issue was fairly presented. The claim on one side was the supremacy of the British Parliament, and on the other the supremacy of the American people. Parliament claimed the right to legislate for or over the colonies in all cases whatsoever; this right the colonists denied. Parliament had asserted its supremacy by the passage, in May, 1774, of “An act for the better regulating the government of the province of Massachusetts Bay,” and “An act for the more impartial administration of justice in said province.” Submission to these acts was the test. They would not execute themselves. Their precise character was of no great importance to the people. It was a question of right, of authority, and not of detail. Had the acts been less oppressive, or even more so, the principle at issue would not have been changed. In August, 1774, one hundred and fifty of the best men of Middlesex assembled in the adjacent town of Concord, and uttered these memorable words:
“We are obliged to say, however painful it may be to us, that the question now is, whether by a submission to some of the late acts of the Parliament of Great Britain, we are contented to be the most abject slaves, and entail that slavery on posterity after us, or, by a manly, joint and virtuous opposition, assert and support our freedom. There is a mode of conduct which, in our very critical circumstances we wish to adopt—a conduct, on the one hand, never tamely submissive to tyranny and oppression; on the other, never degenerating into rage, passion and confusion. * * *” Again, “We must now exert ourselves, or all those efforts which for ten years past have brightened the annals of this country, will be totally frustrated. Life and Death, or what is more, Freedom and Slavery, are in a peculiar sense now before us; and the choice and success, under God, depend greatly on ourselves. We are therefore bound, as struggling not only for ourselves, but for future generations, to express our sentiments in the following resolves—sentiments which we think are founded in truth and justice, and therefore sentiments we are determined to abide by.” In conclusion they say “no danger shall affright, no difficulties intimidate us; and if, in support of our rights, we are called to encounter even death, we are yet undaunted, sensible that he can never die too soon who lays down his life in support of the laws and liberties of his country.”
If we for a moment forget the territorial and popular influence which belongs to the action of sovereign States and large masses of men, we shall see no material difference between this language and that of the Declaration of Independence. It was a pledge of life to the support of the laws and liberties of the land. It was at once a concise and forcible review of the past; a just and eloquent defence of the principles and conduct of the colony; a noble appeal in behalf of that and future generations. Memorable words for men to utter who led at Lexington, Concord and Bunker Hill!
James Prescott, of Groton, was chairman of the convention, and Francis Faulkner, John Hayward and Ephraim Hapgood were members from the town of Acton. This was the most important step taken prior to the commencement of hostilities. The convention attracted universal notice. Copies of its proceedings were sent to the Continental Congress, then sitting at Philadelphia, and they received cordial approbation. But even as late as September, 1774, the patriots say to General Gage, “that their sole intention is to preserve pure and inviolate those rights to which, as men, and English Americans, they are justly entitled, and which have been guaranteed to them by his majesty’s royal predecessors.” Thus anxious were they at every point of the controversy to define the ground on which they stood.
From August, 1774, to February, 1775, the British were engaged in examinations of the country, in landing and drilling the troops, and in vain attempts to check the progress or expression of the public sentiment of almost universal hostility.
The province was engaged in the organization and discipline of the minute men, and the collection and safe-keeping of stores, arms and munitions of war; preparations for attack on the one side, and preparations for defence on the other. Nevertheless, this was a season for reflection. For six months after the issue was fairly presented, there were no evidences of fear, and but few indications of a disposition to conciliate.
General Gage, however, appears not to have entertained the common notion of English officers, that a small body of troops would put down all opposition. He informed his government that the time for “conciliation, moderation, reasoning, was over,” and that the first campaign should be opened by the presence of twenty thousand men. This was wise advice, because it was such advice as a wise man would have given under the circumstances. It was, however, a fortunate blunder in the English Government that they rejected it. They held Boston with the army they sent, and with a larger army they could have done nothing more. They might have made more frequent and more sanguinary forays into the country, but the result of the campaign would have been the same. It was neither possible nor politic for the Americans in the Revolution to assemble large bodies of troops; therefore, the presence of twenty, or even fifty, thousand men, would not have been a matter of great importance to the colonies.
England held us in 1775, as she holds many of her provinces now—by their own consent, but not otherwise. That consent can be perpetual only by the recognition of the principles of freedom and equality. The cause of liberty raises up friends and advocates everywhere. None of its martyrs ever die unwept, unhonored or unsung. The human heart has never been truer to any principle than to that of liberty. It is not in America alone that the cause of freedom excites sympathy and enlists support. Its voice is as potential, its victories as grateful elsewhere as with us. And when its banner is borne down and trampled in the dust, it is not in America alone that true hearts sympathize and bleed. There are noble men in England, France, Germany, Italy, and Hungary, upon whom the blow falls, as upon the first victims of slavery. But in the wisdom of God, the nation that is not just shall stand finally
“Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe,
An empty urn within her withered hands.”
And thus shall it be with Austria. With the judgment of the civilized world against her, with her people disaffected and disloyal, her treasury drained and her credit destroyed, she shall wither and fall. The partition of Poland, and the dispersion of the Poles over Europe, have been active agencies in the revolutionary movements of that continent. Thus do the results of tyranny aid in the overthrow of tyrants. No government can now be considered strong, whether it call itself republican or monarchical, unless its foundations are laid deep in the affections of the people, and based upon the immutable principles of justice and equality.
In 1775, England had been engaged a century in the work of disunion. In a hundred years great changes may be wrought. The affections of a whole people may be diverted from former objects and attached to new ones. This was the great change which took place in America. England had ceased to be the mother country. The colonists had less regard for her in 1774 and 1775 than we have now. All fear and, I trust, all prejudice have disappeared, and we may look upon her as she is. However England may regard us, we need only view her as a splendid example of a nation great and powerful by the productiveness of her soil and mines, the ability of her people, and the liberalizing spirit of her commerce. In her present external condition, in her vast navy, her extensive commerce, in all save her insulated and secure position, we may read our own near destiny. Grasping, ambitious and powerful the British race certainly is; illiberal, cowardly or mean it certainly is not. Highly refined it never was, possibly never will be. Neither the ocean nor the mountain produces the highest refinement of manners or nicety of scientific investigation; but the shores of the ocean and the mountain valleys are the birthplaces of great men.
“Chains may subdue the feeble spirit, but thee,
Man of the iron heart, they could not tame;
For thou wert of the mountains, they proclaim
The everlasting creed of liberty.”
On the 19th of April, 1775, the first movement was made which really put in danger the lives and property of the inhabitants of Massachusetts. Its destination was Concord—its object the destruction of the stores secreted there, and incidentally the seizure of obnoxious patriots who were members of the Provincial Congress, which had then but recently adjourned. It was a test movement in the controversy. If the British could make incursions and seize the public property of the province then the colonies would be disarmed and without the means of resisting the offensive acts of May, 1774. Hence the protection of the stores was the question of resistance or submission to the claims of Parliament.
You know the story of the stealthy, midnight march from Boston,—the successful mission to Adams and Hancock,—the sudden fear which seized Colonel Smith, the commander of the expedition,—his call for reinforcements before he knew whether the yeomanry would fight or not,—the massacre at Lexington,—the alarm of the country,—the gathering of the minute men,—the arrival of the foe at Concord,—the division of the invading party to secure the entrance to the town,—the engagement at the Old North Bridge, where the resolutions of the county of Middlesex of August, 1774, were embodied in action,—the confusion consequent upon so serious a matter as resistance to the Parliament and Ministry of England,—the retreat of the invading party,—the hot pursuit,—the final flight,—and the electric shock which the proceedings of April 19 gave to the colonies and to Great Britain.
These events were long and well remembered, and the historian cannot omit to give them importance in his view of the progress of liberty, and especially of American liberty. But my respect for your familiarity with the opening, thrilling scenes of the Revolution counsels me to omit the details, even when we remember those whose names have been made illustrious by the parts they bore. All shall live upon the just page of our own historian. But the interest which belongs to the events of that day is not more on account of the important results of the war, than from the sense of duty under which the contest was commenced. It was this conviction which made America invincible. It produced that singular and highest quality of martyrdom which endures more than the worst enemies can inflict. It was this sense of duty which gave courage to our soldiers and inspired all our families with that charity and patriotism on which the army was so dependent for clothing and the necessaries of life. The sentiment was almost universal that the colonies were oppressed, that the policy of the mother country was in violation of its own principles of government, that the colonists were refused the rights and privileges of British subjects, and lastly that Great Britain was determined to introduce a commercial system purposely detrimental to colonial interests; in fine, that commerce was to be paralyzed, manufactures discouraged, and agriculture reduced to a state of vassalage.
The public attention had been for many years directed to the possibility of a rupture—none knew when or how terrible it would be. There had, however, been a long season of preparation. The courage necessary to meet the crisis was quite different from that which the mere soldier requires.
In 1775 our fathers were called upon to judge of the morality of the course they were entering, not for themselves only, but for their country and for posterity.
They commenced as rebels; whether their career should be that of patriots or traitors was in some degree uncertain. But a high sense of duty overcame all obstacles and led them with a firm reliance on Divine Providence to take the great step which must lead to freedom and honor or to slavery and disgrace.
Acton had uniformly supported the policy of the colony, and early pledged itself to the town of Boston in favor of non-importation and non-consumption of foreign products. It declared in strong language its hostility to all those who did not subscribe to the merchants’ agreement; even to denying them personal notice and social conversation. In November, 1774, a company of minute men was raised and placed under the command of Isaac Davis. It contained the hope of the town,—young men from sixteen to thirty years of age. They were frequently drilled at the public cost, and they acquired a good degree of discipline. On the morning of the 19th of April the town of Acton was alarmed by some unknown person who hurried rapidly on to more interior points. Early in the day Captain Davis with his company, enrolling about forty men, reached the northerly side of Concord River and took his proper position on the left of the line under command of Colonel Barrett. About a hundred British troops were near the bridge, but they soon removed to the opposite side of the river. Another small body had gone to Colonel Barrett’s in search of stores secreted there. Before any blood was shed the officers of the provincial troops held a council at which it appears to have been understood that Captain Davis should take the right of the line. Whether the change was made in consequence of the superior equipment, or better discipline, or reputed valor of the Acton men, there is no reason to doubt that it was made, and made with the consent, if not at the request, of the officers and principal men upon the ground. But for whatever reason made, it was none the less creditable to the command which at once assumed the post of honor and the position of danger.
The column was led by Major Buttrick, Colonel Robinson and Captain Davis. Colonel Robinson was lieutenant-colonel of Prescott’s regiment, and on this occasion he volunteered for no purpose but the encouragement of the men. At the first general fire from the British, Captain Davis and Abner Hosmer, a private in Davis’ company, were killed. Almost instantly the fire was returned, and one British soldier was killed and several were wounded. The engagement was at an end.
The two parties seem to have been equally confused by the fight. The Provincials manifested no fear, but the contest so long anticipated had actually taken place,—blood had been shed,—men had fallen on both sides. The responsibility of the moment was very great. In contemplation of law they had resisted the British Ministry, they had attacked the British throne.
The regulars retired to the village, and, the divisions of troops having joined each other, they commenced a retreat which for several miles was a precipitate flight.
Hayward fell mortally wounded at Lexington in a personal rencontre with a British soldier. It was fatal to both, though Hayward survived several hours. With a religious patriotism he assured his father that the day’s doings gave him no regret.
Patriotism is one of the most exalted virtues. It is not, as some would have us believe, a mere excitement, or even a passion. It is high among the virtues which men in this state of existence may exhibit. Patriotism is not merely a barren attachment to the country in which we were born, nor is it that narrow yet holy feeling which leads us to look with affection upon the spot of our nativity—upon the hills over which we have roamed in childhood and youth: but a large and noble view of the entire nation,—a regard for its institutions, social, moral, civil and religious, crowned by a manly spirit which leads its possessor to peril all in their defence. The patriot is devoted and self-sacrificing.
Such were Davis, Hayward and Hosmer. Their names were comparatively humble, yet they were men of duty, men of religion, men of a liberal patriotism. Davis was about thirty years of age. He was both a husband and a father. He left his family that morning with a firm conviction that he should see them no more. If his lip quivered and his eye moistened as he trod his own freehold for the last time, fear had no part in those emotions. He had not accepted a command and trained his men for months without having anticipated the actual condition of war which was then immediately before him.
Hayward and Hosmer were both sons of deacons in the church and were sent forth that morning upon an errand of death with the paternal blessing. Neither churches nor clergy were indifferent to the result. The clergy had counseled resistance. The people had imbibed with their religious opinions and sentiments a deep hatred of oppression. The three who fell were young men and well educated for the age in which they lived. They were of the yeomanry. They did not serve on that day upon compulsion nor from mercenary motives. They were the servants of the province; they were martyrs in the cause of freedom.
“Their names mankind shall hold
In deep remembrance, and their memory shall be
A lasting monument, a sacred shrine
Of those who died for righteousness and truth.”
Colonel Robinson was a native of the county of Essex, but then a citizen of Westford. In 1775 he was forty years of age, a veteran of the French War, and at the time of his death in 1805 he had been engaged in nineteen battles. Of his courage there was no doubt. Thaxter says of him, “a braver and more upright man I never knew.” At Bunker Hill he served under Prescott, who pronounced him both honorable and brave.
His epitaph claims for him the honor of commanding at Concord Bridge, but the weight of evidence is in favor of Major Buttrick as the active commander. And Robinson’s fame can well spare even so distinguished an honor as the command at the North Bridge. The name of Major Buttrick, with that of Captain Davis, was early consecrated by the Legislature of this Commonwealth.
From ten to twelve o’clock, of the morning of the 19th, there was a cessation of hostilities. This respite was the natural result of the policy and purposes of the two parties. The Americans’ great idea was resistance. Whatever may be said to the contrary, the officers in command did not regard it within their line of duty to make an attack. The instructions of the Provincial Congress were explicit to the contrary. It was deemed a great point to show that the British fired first. But even admitting the purpose of the Americans to make an attack, the village of Concord was most unfavorable. The British would have had the advantage of position, and at any moment might have inflicted irreparable injury in the destruction of the town. To whatever reason the alleged apathy of the Americans during those two hours is attributable, it was most fortunate for the cause they defended.
The purpose of the invaders, it is quite certain, was a retreat to Boston rather than a renewal of hostilities at Concord. The fierce and continued attack of the Americans during the afternoon was induced by a knowledge of what had happened at Lexington, by the presence of large numbers of men, and possibly by the advice and counsel of Adams and Hancock.
Of Davis’ company there were men among the survivors who deserve well of posterity. Thomas Thorp was an apprentice in Acton, having been taken from the alms-house of the town of Boston. He not only served at Concord but during the war; and his love of country shone as bright in the evening as in the morning of his days.
In Massachusetts the revolution was carried on by towns. These organizations were proof against all the attacks of the British Government. For ten years previous to 1775, they had passed resolutions and taken the initiatory steps of resistance. The colonies were more cumbrous, and opinion when expressed was necessarily representative. Representatives may go beyond, or fall short of, the opinions of their principals, but the people themselves make no such mistakes. A New England town is the most perfect democracy which the world has ever seen. Citizens are upon an equality. Votes are not given on account of wealth, standing, or official position, but as the primary, legitimate right of each citizen. Even at the commencement of the Revolution we had had great experience in voting. It was not a questionable right. At all times, even when valued rights of British subjects were invaded, that of voting had never been assailed. Towns not only chose their selectmen and representatives, but with great freedom they expressed opinions upon public affairs and the conduct of public men, even to the King upon his throne. They had voted men and supplies in the French war, and in the Revolution they did the same. In this province the people were reached through the towns almost exclusively. They voluntarily assumed the burdens of the war, and hence they had great influence in its prosecution. It is a singular and most agreeable fact that the Revolution was eminently a popular movement; and in proportion as we appreciate correctly the burdens of the war does our respect increase for the men who voluntarily assumed them. When the army was famishing, when the soldiers were destitute of clothing, when men and money were needed, the appeal was made to the towns, and in their meetings the subject was considered and determined. I know not of a more gratifying fact in the Revolution than this, and I may venture to say that it is one whose importance has been sometimes overlooked.
The spirit of patriotic Boston was the spirit of every municipality in the province, and there is no instance of devotion superior to that manifested by all when Boston was the special object of ministerial wrath. Her injuries were felt by each town as though the blow were aimed at its own independence and integrity. And so in fact it was. But had Boston even fallen there were still strongholds of rebellion throughout the province, and the principles of the revolution would have survived.
Nor did the towns cease their efforts when they had voted supplies for the prosecution of the war. They took part early in favor of independence. In every town men sprung up equal to the crisis which existed. Our local histories will bear to posterity resolutions as immortal in sentiment and principle as the Declaration of Independence itself. The resolutions of the neighboring town of Concord express the views of Massachusetts towns. They say? “As men we have a right to life, liberty and property; as Christians, we in this land, (blessed be God for it) have a right to worship God according to the dictates of our own consciences; and as subjects we have a right to personal security, personal liberty, and private property. These principal rights we have as subjects of Great Britain; and no power on earth can agreeably to our constitution take them from us, or any part of them without our consent.” Where such principles existed the Declaration of Independence was a necessity; therefore when it came, most of our towns were prepared not only to accept it but to sustain it. They readily affirmed in their own names the principles which had been declared, and assumed the responsibilities which had been taken by their representatives in the Continental Congress.
Nor did their active agency in the cause of liberty and government cease here. They declared the principles on which the State government ought to be based and the manner of framing it. The resolutions of Acton and Concord are full and explicit on this point. They deny the authority of the Legislature to frame a constitution because, says the town of Acton, “a constitution properly framed has a system of principles established to secure the subjects in the possession of their rights and privileges, against any encroachments of the Legislative part; and it is our opinion that the same body that forms a constitution, have, of consequence, a power to alter it; and we conceive, that a constitution, alterable by the supreme legislative power, is no security to the subjects, against the encroachments of that power on our rights and privileges.” And it was resolved, “that the town thinks it expedient that a convention be chosen by the inhabitants of the several towns and districts in this state, being free to form and establish a constitution for this state.” The constitution proposed by the Legislature was rejected by a vote of about three to one.
Similar resolutions were passed by Concord, and the legislative constitution was unanimously rejected. But the town of Acton, early and alone, so far as I can ascertain, made a distinct declaration in favor of an American Republic. On the 14th of June, 1776, twenty days before the Declaration of Independence, the inhabitants declared “that the many injuries and unheard of barbarities, which the colonies have received from Great Britain, confirm us in the opinion, that the present age will be deficient in their duty to God, their posterity and themselves, if they do not establish an American republic. This is the only form of government we wish to see established.”
It is true that the idea of a common government was somewhat general, but not by any means universal even in Massachusetts, while Maryland had not then declared herself in favor of independence.
It was a liberal, enlarged, progressive idea which looked from beneath the lowering clouds of war, tyranny and hardship to the existence of an American republic which should include at least all the territory within the jurisdiction of the thirteen colonies. For even at a much later period there were men of exalted attainments who doubted the applicability of the republican principle to large sections of territory, and who would have sought in the division of the country, or in the establishment of what was then deemed a stronger government that security which they did not expect in an American republic.
The revolution through the town governments had three principal points of support. First, popular intelligence; secondly, the influence of the clergy; thirdly, the possession of land.
The age of the Revolution was an intelligent, thinking age. It cannot be considered as one of refinement, but there was a great degree of original, independent, manly, intellectual activity. It was an age of great men, both in this country and England. It could boast of the Pitts, Burke, Fox and Sheridan; of Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, the Adamses, Patrick Henry and the Lees. It was an age of useful intelligence, of eminent practical wisdom. The leading minds of a country to some extent represent its general characteristics. A popular sentiment which sustained with fidelity the measures of non-intercourse, of resistance and of war; which gave a generous, affectionate, intelligent support to the leaders of the Revolution, must have been liberal, sagacious and honest. The common-school system had been in operation more than a century and a quarter, and under its influence the patriotism of the Revolution was highly intelligent.
The clergy generally were warm supporters of the war. Most of them were graduates of Harvard College, whose influence was always on the patriot side. The influence of the clergy was very great in New England; hence the two most powerful springs of human action, religious and political enthusiasm, were blended in the breasts of our fathers. Some of the clergy, like Emerson of Concord, gave their personal services to the American cause; while others, like Adams and Clark, made the points in controversy with the mother country themes of religious discourse. The religion of Massachusetts was patriotic.
The Rev. Zabdiel Adams, of Lunenburg, in a sermon preached during the war, uttered these prophetic words: “To encourage us to persevere, let us anticipate the rising glory of America. Behold her seas whitened with commerce, her capitals filled with inhabitants, and resounding with the din of industry. See her rising to independence and glory. Contemplate the respectable figure she will one day make among the nations of the earth; behold her venerable for wisdom, for counsel, for might; flourishing in science, in agriculture and navigation, and in the arts of peace. Figure to yourselves that this your native country will ere long become the permanent seat of liberty, the retreat of philosophers, the asylum of the oppressed, the umpire of contending nations, and we would hope the glory of Christ.”
In the Revolution a large portion of the people were landholders,—men who answer to the old Saxon term yeoman. Of course it is not possible for every man to own land, nor is it essential that every man should be a land-holder, yet it is evident that a community loses nothing by an increase of proprietors.
When a man owns land, even though his acres be not broad, he feels a new interest in the welfare and freedom of the state. The possession of land creates a certain and desirable independence. Inducements should therefore be held out to every branch of society, that the ennobling idea of home may be realized in every bosom. Even to this day our unoccupied lands are the storehouse of American freedom,—they are father’s mansions to which every son of the Republic, be he prodigal or not, may turn his steps and find a welcome.
And when our population shall have reached two hundred million, may there still be beneath the flag of the Republic a home for the oppressed and a refuge for the down-trodden.
In 1775 the spirit of emigration had not developed itself in the New England character; it was latent until Wayne’s victory in 1794 prepared for our fathers the fertile lands and inviting climate of Ohio. The proportion of land-holders in Massachusetts was much greater then than at present, though the absolute number is now quite equal to that of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
In all other countries the possession of land has been the element of aristocracy; but with us it has been made subservient to the principles of republicanism. And as an aristocracy cannot exist unless the land is aggregated in the hands of a few, so a republic cannot exist unless the land is divided among the many. There can be no doubt that the great proportion of land-holders was an element of strength in the Revolution. Patriotism is defined as love of country,—and part of that love proceeds from the fact that within and under the protection of our country is our home.
On the 19th of April, 1775, the men of Acton left their homes upon these hills, and their families anxious and disconsolate, that they and their descendants might have homes undisturbed by the hand of the oppressor.
On the 20th of April, 1775, these homes were deserted that all might pay the last tribute of respect to Davis, Hayward and Hosmer. And now after the lapse of seventy-six years the descendants of that generation have met, not as then to mingle their tears at the grave of departed friends and heroes, but to utter with all of filial respect the names of worthy men, and to impress with new power upon their hearts the sentiment of gratitude for all who served and suffered in the cause of American freedom. And as we contemplate the glorious death of those who fell, shall we not say,
“Since all must life resign,
Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave
’Tis folly to decline,
And steal inglorious to the silent grave.”
As compared with the existence of the world only a short space of time has intervened between the 19th of April, 1775, and this day, yet three generations of men have trodden these fields and aided in the great work of perfecting and preserving American institutions. With what confidence, fellow citizens, did your ancestors look to independence and the establishment of the form of government under which we have lived and prospered as a people? Beyond this form neither the patriot nor statesman can look with hope.
Who will propose to the now united American people either a return to the almost forgotten confederacy of 1778, or the establishment of several governments? Nobody,—nobody. When we contrast our institutions with those of any other country, how ought we to thank God for the measure of personal happiness and political security we have enjoyed.
Not that our institutions are perfect,—nor that there is nothing which the philanthropist may deplore or the statesman condemn. All the anticipations of our ancestors have not been realized. The past is not all perfect; the future will not always cheer us with sunshine and smiles; but he is a misanthrope who allows his opinions to be controlled by the exceptions to the general current of our national career.
Our years of independence have been years of almost uninterrupted prosperity, but they have borne to the grave those who took part in the later as well as earlier contests of the Revolution. Of Lexington and Concord, one only remains; and from all the battlefields of the war this occasion has brought together but two.
But, fellow citizens, the few survivors are not only venerable, they are sacred men. They are the last of a noble generation. They periled their lives in behalf of liberty, when
“’Twas treason to love her and death to defend.”
Fortunate all are you whose eyes rest to-day on these few surviving soldiers of the Revolution. Fortunate are the youth and children who on this occasion and in this presence can pledge themselves to the cause of constitutional liberty. Of these men the next generation shall know only from history. Fortunate then that your lives began before theirs ended.
The patriot should do homage to these men, the statesman may sit at their feet and learn lessons of fidelity to principle, and citizens all may see how nobly ends the life begun in the performance of duty.
To-day the commonwealth of Massachusetts and the town of Acton dedicate this monument to the memory of the early martyrs of the Revolution, and consecrate it to the principles of liberty and of patriotism. Here its base shall rest and its apex point to the heavens through the coming centuries. Though it bears the names of humble men, and commemorates services stern rather than brilliant, it shall be as immortal as American history. The ground on which it stands shall be made classical by the deeds which it commemorates. And may this monument exist only with the existence of the republic; and when God in His wisdom shall bring this government to nought, as all human governments must come to nought, may no stone remain to point the inquirer to fields of valor or to remind him of deeds of glory. And finally, may the republic resemble the sun in his daily circuit, so that none shall know whether its path were more glorious in the rising or in the setting.