"Blocked Our Harbor Up" - Essex County, the Royal Navy and Harassment of the Coastline in 1775

Recently, the Nerds were asked about Essex (MA) County’s reaction to Royal Navy activity along its coast in the aftermath of the Battle of Bunker Hill, and to whether the skirmish in Gloucester in August 1775 was an isolated event or part of a larger operation to harass the Massachusetts coastline.

After the Battle of Bunker Hill, British officials in Boston believed that several coastal towns, such as Salem to the north, Beverly, Ipswich, Newburyport, and Gloucester, served as supply hubs for the American forces surrounding Boston. As a result, these towns became key targets for British naval attacks and landings. To interrupt American supply routes, Vice Admiral Samuel Graves of the Royal Navy commanded Captain John Linzee of the fourteen-gun sloop HMS Falcon to "to put to Sea as soon as possible in his Majesty’s Sloop under your Command and cruise between Cape Cod and Cape Ann in order to carry into Execution the late Acts for restraining the Trade of the Colonies And to seize and send to Boston all Vessels with Arms Ammunition, Provisions, Flour, Grain, Salt, Melasses, Wood, &c &c.”

 

Essex County was understandably on edge from threats at sea and from local militia, and alarm-list companies were constantly on alert. Less than two weeks after the Battles of Lexington and Concord, Salem, Marblehead, Newburyport and York (ME), petitioned the Massachusetts Provincial Congress “that the long line of sea coast was without adequate defence; that armed vessels were hovering about the ports, ready to turn their cannon upon the villages of the shore; that the people were exhausted by strenuous exertions in the common cause; and praying for reinforcement of men, and supplies of arms and ammunition.” 

The next day, the Congress resolved “That it be, and it hereby is earnestly recommended to the committees of the sea port towns in the county of Essex, that they use their utmost endeavors to have all the effects of the inhabitants of their respective towns removed as soon as possible, that the Congress highly approves of the conduct of said towns in wearing a pacific ap- pearance until their effects shall be secured, that the Congress consider it as absolutely necessary for said inhabitants to be in readiness to go into the country on the shortest notice, and to avoid mixing with our enemies.”

Of course, Essex County’s fears were not unfounded. In May, the New England Chronicle reported, “The Town of Salem, and other Parts of the County of Essex, were alarmed last Tuesday Morning by the Appearance, off Salem Harbour, of 2 or 3 armed Vessels, supposed to be on some hostile Design. A large Body of Men immediately assembled, But nothing extraordinary being attempted by the Enemy, the People dispersed, after taking some necessary Measures for their future Safety.” Marblehead resident Ashley Bowen noted in his journal how the Royal Navy was constantly harassing the seaport town, including an occasion when the HMS Merlin “blocked our harbor up.” In Newburyport, residents were rattled upon learning that a detachment of British sailors and officers from the HMS Scarborough rowed into Newburyport Harbor under the cover of darkness to scout the town’s defensive capabilities. According to the Essex Journal, “last Tuesday evening (May 23), a barge belonging to the man of war lying at Portsmouth, rowing up and down the river to make discoveries with two small officers and six seamen.” In early August, the commanding officer of the HMS Scarborough, then anchored off the coast of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, recommended that Newburyport be bombarded. Admiral Graves admitted such an operation was unlikely only due to the lack of ships. “I observe what you say about Newbury; that place and all others indeed require to be strictly attended to, but where are the Ships?”

The Royal Navy’s aggressive actions only inflamed the country’s growing fear of potential and actual raids. The Reverend Daniel Fuller of Gloucester noted that a false rumor of British troops landing in Beverly sparked panic throughout the region. “Rode to Middleton in Company with Israel Eveleth, met an Alarm upon Cheboffet Causeway, it was said a Body of Regular Troops were landed & landing at West Beach Beverle.” The minister also noted that many communities, including his own, were heeding the advice of the Provincial Congress and moving valuables, food supplies, and livestock inland so as to avoid capture. “People in this Parish chiefly employed in removing Household Furniture and Provision of all kinds from ye Harbours to this Place.” By mid July, Massachusetts officials finally relented and agreed to allow companies of soldiers fromcoastal communities serving at the Siege of Boston to return home to construct fortifications and protect their towns.

The Falcon was no stranger to these raids and had already captured the attention of the Massachusetts colonists by participating in the bombardment of American forces during the Battle of Bunker Hill. It had now turned its focus to coastal Essex County. Throughout the months of June and July, the Falcon cruised the New England coastline, often anchoring off of Portsmouth and dispatching sailors and marines to seize unattended coastal guns and forage for supplies. On August 5, 1775, HMS Falcon entered Ipswich Bay and anchored at the mouth of the Annisquam River. Captain Linzee promptly dispatched a landing party to seize sheep from a nearby pasture to provide the ship with mutton. Major Peter Coffin, a local farmer, suspected British intentions and quickly alerted the laborers on his land and neighboring residents. Armed with muskets, the small group took up concealed positions behind the dunes and opened fire as the ship’s boat approached. Believing a full company of militia lay in wait, the British officer leading the landing party abandoned the mission and returned to the Falcon empty-handed.

On the eve of the Battle of Gloucester, the HMS Falcon patrolled the waters off Cape Ann, seeking to capture colonial merchant ships bound for Salem or Newburyport. On August 8th, Captain Linzee spotted two schooners, likely from the West Indies, en route to Salem. He seized one as a prize and chased the other into Gloucester Harbor, where the fleeing vessel ran aground near Five Pound Island. The unusual sight quickly drew the attention of Gloucester residents, who soon saw the British warship towing a captured schooner. Recognizing the danger, the town meeting house began ringing its alarm bells, summoning the militia to assemble. Despite lacking cannons and having a very limited supply of powder and ammunition, the residents managed to mount a pair of swivel guns on makeshift carriages and position them for defense. 

 

It is unclear whether Gloucester's civilians fled the approaching fight or remained as spectators. In a letter to John Murray, Gloucester resident Judith Sargent noted that a week before the engagement, the Royal Navy schooner HMS Hope anchored in the harbor. A panic quickly set in, and the town’s militia and alarm lists assembled. According to Sargent, “You wish for some particulars relative to our publick affairs, and indeed they have somewhat varied since you left us — Upon the day of your departure, the arrival of a schooner belonging to his Britannick Majesty, threw our people into great alarm — Immediately the drums beat to arms, the [bells] sounded portentously, and the streets were filled with the goods of the terrified inhabitants — [Families] running up and down, throwing abroad their hands, the most heart affecting distress visible in their almost frantic gestures, when to heighten the misery of the scene.” Unlike other accounts of civilian evacuation during the Battles of Lexington and Concord, Sargent’s account notably does not mention whether civilians fled to the Essex interior when the Hope anchored off of Gloucester’s coast. Similarly, there are no civilian accounts documenting a flight on the day the Falcon attacked.

Undeterred by the alarm bells, Linzee ordered his ship into Gloucester’s harbor. He quickly seized a nearby dory belonging to fisherman William Babson and ordered him to pilot the Falcon into the harbor. The captain warned that if Babson did anything “to let the ship strike bottom, I will shoot you on the spot.” The sloop anchored between Stage Head and Ten Pound Island, dispatching three whaleboats carrying thirty-six sailors and marines toward the grounded schooner.

As the naval boats closed in on the grounded vessel and began to board, musket fire from the shore killed three sailors and wounded a lieutenant in the thigh. The barges withdrew with their casualties, leaving much of the boarding party behind on the schooner. In response, Linzee sent the previously captured schooner, now manned by a British prize crew, along with several small boats, all ordered to fire on any “damned rebel” within range. He also ordered a cannonading of the town by the Falcon in an attempt to draw attention away from the schooner, but “the Rebels paid very little Attention to the firing from the Ship.”

While the boarding party was still pinned down on the schooner, Linzee sent a landing party to set fire to the town. “I made an Attempt to set fire to the Town of Cape Anne and had I succeeded I flatter myself would have given the Lieutt an Opportunity of bringing a Schooner off, or have left her by the Boats, as the Rebels' attention must have been to the fire. But an American, part of my Complement, who has always been very active in our cause, set fire to the Powder before it was properly placed; Our attempt to fire the Town therefore not only failed, but one of the men was blown up and the American deserted.” Enraged, Linzee dispatched yet another landing party with orders to burn the town by torching the fish flakes. However, Gloucester militiamen quickly swarmed the landing party and took them prisoner. As Linzee would bitterly report, “A second Attempt was made to set fire to the Town, but did not succeed.”

At four o’clock in the afternoon, Linzee made one final push to seize the schooner and rescue his captured sailors. As several boats closed on their targets, the Falcon continued to pour broadsides into the fishing village. Surprisingly, the militiamen did not yield. As Gloucester’s Reverend Daniel Fuller recalled, “Lindsey, Capt of a man of war, fired it is supposed near 300 Shot at the Harbor Parish. Damaged ye meeting House Somewhat, Some other buildings, not a Single Person killed or wounded with his Cannon Shot.”

A wounded officer and a few men were rescued from the grounded schooner. The rest of the crew, including several impressed Americans, were eventually captured or rescued by Gloucester militiamen. By 7 p.m., all the British small boats had been seized. In a last attempt to recover his men, Linzee sent the prize schooner into the harbor. However, he later believed that the original crew had taken the chance to overpower the British prize crew and retake the vessel. As Linzee explained, “After the master was landed, I found I could not do him any good, or distress the rebels by firing, therefore I left off.” Linzee and the Falcon remained off Cape Ann until the next morning and then sailed back to Boston.

The ship-to-shore engagement resulted in a decisive American victory. Gloucester's men recaptured both schooners and took thirty-five British sailors, several wounded, with one dying shortly afterward. Twenty-four of the captured men were sent initially to the “Ipswich Gaol” and then ultimately transferred to an American prison camp in Cambridge. At the same time, local sailors who had been previously impressed into the British Navy were released and allowed to return home.Captain Linzee's failed raid on Gloucester significantly influenced later British naval reprisals. In October 1775, Admiral Graves ordered Captain Henry Mowat of HMS Canceaux to punish several New England coastal towns, including Gloucester, when her ordered “If possible first go to Cape Anne where Rebels thought it proper to fire upon the Falcon and where they took her Officers and Crew, and sent Prisoners in the Country.”. Although Gloucester was among the targets, Mowat chose not to attack it, concluding that the town's spread-out buildings made bombardment ineffective. Instead, his decision to burn Falmouth, now Portland, Maine, was crucial in motivating the Continental Congress to create the Continental Navy.

"No. 16, passing into possession of Thomas Hancock" - How Many Hancock Souls Were Laid to Rest in Tomb 16?

Today the Nerds are once again joined by historian and blogger Jess Bruce, who continues her fascinating investigation into one of Boston’s most famous and surprisingly complicated burial sites: the Hancock family tomb in the Granary Burying Ground. Jess has been hard at work untangling the documentary and physical evidence surrounding Tomb 16, and in her latest post, she tackles a deceptively simple question with major historical implications: just how many members of the Hancock family are actually buried there?

You can read her original and very detailed post at the link here.

To understand why this question matters, you first have to appreciate the setting.

Boston’s Granary Burying Ground, established in 1660, is one of the city’s most historically dense landscapes. Within its walls lie the remains of Revolutionary icons such as Samuel Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Paul Revere, and James Otis, along with thousands of ordinary Bostonians whose lives made the city what it is. Although only about 2,300 markers are visible today, many more people are buried beneath the ground and inside its tombs.

Tomb No. 16, commonly known as the Hancock family tomb, has long been identified as the final resting place of Governor John Hancock, a prominent first signer of the Declaration of Independence. While this association is accurate, the tomb was originally constructed as a family vault intended for use by multiple generations. The identities and interment dates of those buried within have been the subject of ongoing confusion, speculation, and historical inaccuracies.

In her new post, Jess does what good historians do: she goes back to the records.

Drawing on archival material and a detailed burial index compiled with the help of a FindAGrave contributor, she reconstructs a list of known and likely interments connected to the Hancock and Scott families. Based on surviving documentation, 15 coffins have been confirmed as placed in Tomb 16. Two additional individuals, Captain James Scott Jr. and Elizabeth Lowell Hancock, are very likely candidates as well, though the evidence for them is indirect. If they are included, the total rises to seventeen.

The list of those buried in the tomb reads like a compressed family history of the Hancocks. Alongside John Hancock himself are his brother, Ebenezer Hancock; his tragically young son, John George Washington Hancock; and a range of relatives stretching into the nineteenth century, including John Hancock II, Elizabeth Lowell Hancock Moriarty, and siblings such as Charles Lowell Hancock and George Hancock. What emerges is not merely a list of names but a multi-generational story of a prominent Boston family whose private lives unfolded alongside the public history of the new nation.

A particularly compelling piece of evidence presented by Jess is an 1883 sketch of the tomb’s interior, depicting 12 coffins stacked within the vault, with the smallest, believed to belong to Hancock’s young son, placed on top. This image serves as a powerful visual reminder that these tombs functioned not as abstract monuments but as tangible spaces, continually filled and revisited over time, shaped by grief, family custom, status, and reputation.

Jess’s work is particularly valuable because it demonstrates that even the most prominent figures in American history are subject to uncertainty, assumptions, and oversimplification. Upon closer examination, the Hancock tomb emerges as more than a tourist destination; it serves as a case study in familial remembrance, the preservation and loss of records, and the meticulous effort required to transform legend into history. For those interested in Revolutionary Boston, burial grounds, or the investigative process of historical research, Tomb 16 proves to be significantly more complex and populated than it initially appears.

"No. 16 Tomb of Hancock" - John Hancock's Final Resting Place

We apologize for the recent lack of posts. Our extensive commitments to various 250th projects and active participation in lectures and presentations over the past several months have kept us occupied.

Nevertheless, cue Whitesnake and celebrate as the Nerds are back!

Today, we are joined again by historian and blogger Jess Bruce. 

Jess has been hard at work examining the history of John Hancock’s burial site and trying to locate the original headstone. Her research findings on the topic can be accessed here.

The story of John Hancock’s burial is more complex and intriguing than most people realize. A recent in-depth examination of the historical record uncovers a mystery hidden in plain sight at Boston’s Granary Burying Ground. Jess’s first post on the topic begins with a bold statement: “After much research and dedication, I’ve finally uncovered the location of John Hancock’s final resting place,” noting that the answer was much closer than expected. This leads to a historical investigation that challenges the assumptions visitors make when standing before Hancock’s imposing granite obelisk.

A central point Jess makes during her historical deep dive into Boston burial ground history is the fate of Hancock’s original headstone. This simple white slab once marked his grave before being replaced by the towering monument that locals and tourists recognize today. A 19th-century photograph from the Boston Public Library offers a rare glimpse of the earlier grave marker, prompting new questions about its placement, accuracy, and historical reliability. Jess uncovers a startling detail found in archival reports: during major renovations, “embedded in the wall that was removed were several tombstones, including that of John Hancock.”

The investigation becomes even more intriguing as Jess analyzes historical maps, photographs, and present-day site conditions to estimate the original location of Hancock’s tomb. A comparison of alignments suggests that the first headstone may have been just 26 inches away from the modern obelisk. A contemporary photograph in Jess’s blog post illustrates this small yet significant discrepancy. For a site that draws thousands of visitors seeking a connection to the past, such a slight change emphasizes how delicate and fluid historical memory can be as landscapes evolve over time.

The most troubling question in Jess’s post concerns not the headstone but the remains themselves. An 1882 newspaper account claims that Hancock’s tomb may have been broken into and that his lead coffin was stolen and melted down. The article starkly states, “There is no proof that even his body remains there,” speculating that the materials may have ended up “in various plumbing operations.”

The blog post does not sensationalize this claim but presents it to demonstrate how easily the physical traces of history can be disrupted, misplaced, or erased. For anyone who loves early American history, the article offers a compelling and carefully researched reminder that even the most iconic figures can become entangled in uncertainty long after their deaths.

The Nerds highly encourage you to visit Jess’s blog to read the article. And good news, we’ll be posting part 2 of her research findings next week!

"I Do Not Consider Myself Equal to the Command With Which I Have Been Honored" - Washington Takes Command of the Continental Army

We’re sure you are all asking, “Hey Nerds! Where the heck have you been for the past few months?” 

We could tell you that the real world, such as work, and contributions to various 250th Anniversary of the American Revolution celebrations, all got in the way. Instead, we’re going to be vague and tell you only that the CIA recruited us for a top-secret mission that involved a treasure map on the back of a Bicentennial commemorative plaque, aliens, a high-speed chase through Cairo, Sean Bean, and Whitesnake. If we told you anything else, we’d have to kill you.

In the days that followed the Battle of Bunker Hill, a stalemate emerged between British and colonial forces as both sides sought to recover from the intense conflict. Thousands of New England men continued to encircle Boston, and the morale among British soldiers had plummeted after the battle. Meanwhile, the supply interdiction efforts by New England privateers were starting to complicate life within the town.

American forces were commanded by General Artemas Ward, who was born on November 26, 1727, in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts. As a child, Ward attended local schools and shared a tutor with his siblings. He graduated from Harvard and briefly taught there. In 1752, he was appointed Justice of the Peace and served multiple terms as a representative in the Colonial General Assembly and the executive council. During the French and Indian War, Ward rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and was appointed Brigadier General by the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts on October 27, 1774.

After the battles of Lexington and Concord, he was formally named Commander in Chief of the Massachusetts Grand Army on May 19, 1775.

Ward faced significant challenges while overseeing the early months of the Siege of Boston. The provincial army surrounding Boston began to dwindle rapidly. Regiments suffered from a lack of organization, and soldiers were consistently coming and going. Initially, militiamen left in small groups, but soon the exodus escalated to hundreds, as dwindling provisions and responsibilities back home eroded their sense of duty.

Expressing his concern, Artemas Ward remarked that he feared he would soon be left alone at the siege. “My situation is such,” he stated, “that if I do not receive enlisting orders immediately, I shall be left all alone. It is impossible to keep the men here unless something is done. I therefore urge that the plan be completed and handed to me this morning, and that you, gentlemen of the Congress, issue orders for enlisting men.”

To meet this problem, the Provincial Congress agreed to General Ward’s requests that the men be formally enlisted for a given time. The legislative body resolved to raise a “Massachusetts Grand Army of 13,600 men and appoint a Committee of Supplies to collect and distribute the necessary commodities.”

In undertaking this venture, Massachusetts turned to the model it had followed to attract recruits for provincial regiments during the French and Indian War. When the Massachusetts government appointed a regimental colonel to serve in the French and Indian War, he was given a packet of blank commissions for officers he could dispense as he saw fit. Often, commissions would be contingent upon the prospective officers’ success in recruiting men. To secure enlistments of private soldiers, junior officers frequently made arrangements with prospective non-commissioned officers, promising posts as sergeants or corporals in return for their assistance in recruiting drives. While many recruiters operated within the confines of their own minute man or militia regiment that fought on April 19, recruiters were also authorized to beat their drums anywhere in the province to enlist volunteers. Local militia officers were prohibited from interfering with beating orders and were required to muster their companies and assist the colonel and his prospective officers with drafting recruits.

Photo Credit: George Comeau

After the regiments were raised and certified, they were adopted into the Massachusetts Grand Army and assigned regimental numbers. It appears that the regiments were assigned regimental numbers based on the “rank or age of the counties” from which they were raised.

Complicating Ward’s newly formed army was the continuous lack of supplies needed to maintain the siege, particularly gunpowder. In a joint letter with Joseph Warren, Ward pleaded to the Colony of New York to send ammunition and gunpowder to his soldiers. “We suffer at present the greatest inconveniences from a want of a sufficient quantity of [gun]powder; without this every attempt to defend ourselves or annoy our enemies, must prove abortive. We have taken every step to avail ourselves of this article, by drawing into our general magazines whatever could be spared from the respective Towns of this Colony; but the frequent skirmishes we have had have greatly diminished our stock, and we are now under the most alarming apprehensions that, notwithstanding the bravery of our troops, (whom we think we can, without boasting, declare are ready to encounter every danger for the preservation of the rights and liberties of America,) we shall, barely for want of the means of defence, fall at last a prey to our enemies. We, therefore, most earnestly beseech you, that you would warmly recommend it to the other Colonies, to send whatever ammunition they can possibly spare forthwith to our relief.”

To his credit, during the initial months of the Siege, General Ward effectively maintained the Grand Army’s defensive lines around Boston and successfully coordinated a supply interdiction operation against His Majesty’s forces. However, historians and contemporaries have critiqued his management of the Battle of Bunker Hill from Cambridge. Some claimed that he exhibited excessive caution, while others contended that his ineptitude contributed to the failure in ensuring the beleaguered troops atop the hill received adequate supplies. James Warren, who succeeded Joseph Warren as President of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress, expressed his frustration, remarking that the General “never left his house” while soldiers perished on Breed’s Hill.

Regardless of whether Ward was an effective commander or a fool, his time as Commander-in-Chief of the American army was quickly coming to an end.

Weeks into the siege, General Ward wrote to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, outlining the difficulties he faced in organizing an army to counter British aggression and urgently requesting support. His letter sparked a heated debate among the delegates. Should the Continental Congress back the Massachusetts war effort, and if so, should they authorize the formation of an Army of the United Colonies? If they decided in favor, who should be appointed to lead it? While Artemas Ward has the necessary experience and is familiar with his troops, he remains relatively unknown beyond New England. Many delegates voiced their concerns regarding New England’s involvement in the conflict thus far, viewing the New Englanders as rabble-rousers and troublemakers. Other members believed it was essential to garner physical and political support outside of the turbulent New England region. If there is to be an Army of the United Colonies, it must be agreed upon and endorsed by all the colonies, not only those in the North.

On June 17, amidst the turmoil of the Battle of Bunker Hill, delegates gathered at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia to deliberate on the best ways to support the Siege of Boston and the possibility of establishing a unified standing army comprised of soldiers from all the American Colonies. Focus soon shifted to a Virginian who had consistently attended Congressional meetings in his military uniform. As a result, growing support emerged for the idea that this individual could serve as the new Commander in Chief.

George Washington was born on February 22, 1732, in the Northern Neck of Virginia to a middle-class but ambitious gentry family. Although he was the first child of Augustine Washington and Mary Ball, George had two older brothers and a sister from his father’s previous marriage, and he would later be joined by four surviving full siblings.

George’s prospects changed dramatically in 1743 when Augustine passed away at the young age of 48, continuing the family pattern of early male deaths that ultimately facilitated George’s ascent. By 1754, he assumed control of Mount Vernon and its enslaved laborers. In the wake of his father’s death, the 11-year-old George was deprived of the educational opportunities in England that his older brothers had received. This lack of formal schooling caused him considerable embarrassment throughout his life. Instead of pursuing academic development, Washington gained practical experience by traveling through the Virginia backcountry as a surveyor.

Despite lacking formal education, the young man was fortunate to have benefactors, particularly due to his brother Lawrence’s marriage into the esteemed Fairfax family. These connections allowed Washington to pursue a military career, leading him to become Colonel of the Virginia Regiment and commander-in-chief of the colony’s forces by the age of 34. Throughout the French and Indian War, Colonel Washington gained invaluable leadership experience, earning a measure of fame for both his successes and failures. 

A pivotal moment in George Washington’s life occurred on January 6, 1759, when he married Martha Dandridge Custis, a 27-year-old widow. This union not only combined his wealth with her estate but also elevated Washington into the ranks of colonial Virginia’s elite, approximately tripling the number of enslaved individuals under his control.

The next fifteen years were dedicated to managing and expanding Mount Vernon, nurturing his growing family, and fulfilling the civic duties expected of a gentleman of his rank, which included serving as a member of the House of Burgesses. During the politically charged decade of the 1760s and 1770s, Washington participated—often in a more reserved manner—in the significant debates and decisions surrounding colonial resistance. By 1774, he had gained enough prominence to become one of Virginia’s delegates to the Continental Congress, alongside the more renowned Patrick Henry.

Washington Taking Command of the American Army – At Cambridge, Massachusetts, July 3rd, 1775. Currier & Ives (American, active New York, 1857–1907)

For several reasons, Washington’s appointment as the Commander in Chief of an army representing the United Colonies was a logical choice. To transform the rebellion into a truly continental effort, the involvement of Virginia—the wealthiest and most populous colony—was essential. Congress sought a commander with substantial combat experience, and few possessed more than Washington. At forty-three, he was vigorous and youthful enough to endure the extended campaigns of a protracted conflict. Additionally, Washington’s fellow Virginians effectively persuaded many congressmen of his unwavering commitment to the patriot cause.

Politically, Washington occupied the role of a moderate revolutionary, a measured leader resolute in defending colonial rights. His presence further bolstered his case; several contemporaries noted his majestic appearance. Benjamin Rush remarked, “He possesses such martial dignity in his bearing that you can identify him as a general and a soldier among ten thousand.”

Following his appointment, Washington expressed his commitment to uphold the authority of the civilian leaders in Congress. He chose to forgo a salary, requesting only reimbursement for expenses incurred during the conflict. In his acceptance speech on June 16, he struck a note of humility, stating, “I am truly aware of the great honor bestowed upon me with this appointment… I do not consider myself equal to the command with which I have been honored.”

On June 23, 1775, Washington began his journey north to the Siege of Boston. The next day, the general started to receive reports of the dire condition of the New England Army surrounding Boston...specifically the lack of gunpowder. According to a June 24th letter to the Continental Congress, Washington noted, “Powder is so essential an Article that I cannot help again repeating the necessity of a supply. The Camp at Boston, from the best Accounts I can get from thence, is but very poorly supplied.”

On July 2, Washington arrived in Cambridge. The following day, he officially assumed command of the Massachusetts Grand Army, which was now integrated into the Continental Army, taking over from General Artemas Ward. He met with several high-ranking officers of the army and immediately set to work, joining his temporary housemate and third-in-command, Charles Lee, for a ride to inspect some of the siege lines surrounding Cambridge.

Dr. James Thatcher of Barnstable, Massachusetts, had an opportunity to observe General Washington. According to his journal, “I am informed that General George Washington arrived at our provincial camp, in this town, on the July 2; having been appointed, by the unanimous voice of the Continental Congress at Philadelphia, general and commander-in-chief of all the troops raised, and to be raised, for the defence of the United Colonies, as they are now termed ... He has been received here with every mark of respect, and addressed by our Provincial Congress in the most affectionate and respectful manner. All ranks appear to repose full confidence in him as commander-in-chief; it is the fervent prayer of the religiously disposed, that he may be instrumental in bringing this unhappy controversy to an honorable and speedy termination.”

On July 3, 1775, Washington rode out before a large detachment of American troops drawn up on Cambridge Common to address them. He quickly sets the tone by declaring “The General most earnestly requires” order and obedience.”

When Washington arrived in Cambridge, he discovered a disorganized and diverse assembly of soldiers and weaponry. His pre-existing negative opinion of Yankee troops was only reinforced by what he observed at the gathering outside of Boston. New England officers, elected by their men, worked alongside their troops in performing menial tasks and often held occupations that Washington deemed unworthy. The camps set up by the New England soldiers were chaotic and frequently plagued by unhealthy and unsanitary conditions.

Simultaneously, many of the New England troops viewed Washington with suspicion as an outsider and were apprehensive about how he would treat them. Complicating the situation further, shortly after Washington took command, reinforcements from as far away as Maryland and Virginia began to arrive at the siege. The New England troops, already wary of Washington, became equally distrustful of these newcomers and engaged in brawls with them.

In an effort to restore order, Washington issued general instructions to the army, declaring that they and those who enlisted “are now Troops of the United Provinces of North America.” He expressed hope “that all Distinctions of Colonies will be laid aside; so that one and the same Spirit may animate the whole, and the only Contest be, who shall render, on this great and trying occasion, the most essential service to the Great and common cause in which we are all engaged.”

Washington began to transform the militias into an organization more akin to a formal army. He appointed senior officers—contrary to the militias’ tradition of electing their leaders—and introduced greater organization and disciplinary measures within the encamped militias. Drawing from his previous experience as commander of the Virginia Regiment and what he observed daily at his Cambridge encampment, he was convinced that an army composed of short-term volunteers, no matter their dedication to the cause, could not prevail in the war.

In a letter to John Hancock in February 1776, he articulated this belief: “To expect then the same service from raw, undisciplined recruits as from veteran soldiers is to expect what never did, and perhaps never will happen.” His convictions on this matter only deepened over the years. From the outset, he maintained that militias served only as peripheral supplements to a core army; what was truly needed was a professional force of disciplined soldiers who, like him, were committed for the duration of the conflict. 

His model, in effect, was the British Army.

"The Guns Were Distinctly Heard" - Two More Child Witnesses of the Battle of Bunker Hill

It’s no secret that the Nerds are captivated by research studies and historical reports exploring the American Revolution's civilian experience. One area of growing interest is retelling events from 1775 through the perspectives of child witnesses.

The Nerds are unaware of contemporary accounts from children who experienced the Battles of Lexington, Concord, or Bunker Hill. Most—if not all—of the narratives attributed to children appear to have emerged during the early to mid-19th century. Likewise, by the mid- to late 1800s, it became increasingly common for grandchildren and great-grandchildren of eyewitnesses to share the stories passed down by their elders.

Many historians rightfully argue that these 19th-century accounts may be tainted by either fading memories or a desire to exaggerate or sensationalize one’s role during the early months of the American Revolution. As 19th Century Massachusetts historian George E. Ellis noted, many veterans and witnesses who claimed to have participated in the Battle of Bunker Hill, "Their contents were most extraordinary; many of the testimonies extravagant, boastful, inconsistent, and utterly untrue; mixtures of old men's broken memories and fond imaginings with the love of the marvellous. Some of those who gave in affidavits about the battle could not have been in it, nor even in its neighborhood. They had got so used to telling the story for the wonderment of village listeners as grandfathers' tales, and as petted representatives of 'the spirit of '76’, that they did not distinguish between what they had seen and done, and what they had read, heard, or dreamed. The decision of the committee was that much of the contents of the volumes was wholly worthless for history, and some of it discreditable, as misleading and false."

So far, the Nerds have blogged about four child eyewitnesses—three who witnessed the Battles of Lexington and Concord, and a fourth who saw the Battle of Bunker Hill. Today, we’re excited to share two more accounts we recently uncovered connected to the Battle of Bunker Hill. Each comes from a boy under the age of ten. The first—and understandably more well-known—is future president John Quincy Adams. The second is David Currier of Amesbury, a lesser-known but equally intriguing witness.

"An original sketch of the Burning of Charlestown & Battle of Bunker Hill. Taken by an English Officer from Beacon Hill Boston" by Thomas Davies, c. 1775 (New York Public Library)

John Quincy Adams, son of John and Abigail Adams, was only seven during the Battle of Bunker Hill. At the time of the battle, the Adams family had fled Boston and lived in a district of Braintree that is now part of Quincy, Massachusetts. As the British prepared for their first assault against the American position, John Quincy, his mother Abigail, and sister Nabby ascended Penn’s Hill to watch the battle.

Of course, the Adams were not the only ones to watch the battle from nearby hills. As the Royal Navy and Artillery pounded the American position on Breed’s Hill, many residents of nearby Massachusetts towns climbed to nearby hills and rooftops to watch the events unfold. In Boston, General Burgoyne observed, “behind us the church steeples and heights of our own camp covered with spectators of the rest of our army which was not engaged; the hills round the country covered with spectators.”

The trio’s view of the battle was not the best and appears to have been obscured by the burning of Charlestown. Decades later, in a letter to English Quaker Joseph Sturge, John Quincy described what he saw. “The year 1775 was the eighth year of my age. Among the first fruits of the War, was the expulsion of my father’s family from their peaceful abode in Boston, to take refuge in his and my native town of Braintree ... My father was separated from his family, on his way to attend the same continental Congress, and there my mother, with her children lived in unintermitted danger of being consumed with them all in a conflagration kindled by a torch in the same hands which on the 17th. of June lighted the fires in Charlestown. I saw with my own eyes those fires, and heard Britannia’s thunders in the Battle of Bunker’s hill and witnessed the tears of my mother and mingled with them my own, at the fall of Warren a dear friend of my father, and a beloved Physician to me. He had been our family physician and surgeon, and had saved my fore finger from amputation under a very bad fracture.”

More than fifty miles to the north, five-year-old David Currier was playing in the Pond Hill District of Amesbury, near what is now the Amesbury-Merrimac line, when the distant thunder of artillery shattered the calm—over a century of deforestation had left the land bare enough that the sounds of British cannon fire could carry into southern New Hampshire. David also did not know that his father, Captain John Currier, was inside the redoubt, leading a company of Amesbury men under Colonel James Frye’s Regiment.

On the eve of the American Civil War, the now ninety-year-old Currier relayed to Amesbury historian Joseph Merrill what transpired in the town as the battle raged on Charlestown Neck. Merrill would include Currier’s account in his book “History of Amesbury.” 

Statue of Abigail and John Quincy Adams, Quincy, Massachusetts

When the sound of artillery fire reached the town, many ascended Pond Hill hoping to catch a glimpse of the fight, while others panicked. “It was a warm day with south-west wind and the guns were distinctly heard, forcing all to the conclusion that a battle was going on. Never before had the big guns of an enemy been heard at Amesbury. All were wild with fear and excitement … The women gathered at some neighbors to sympathize, as well as express their deep anxiety as to the result. Would more than half be killed? Some thought not, others thought there would. But their fears could not be dispelled for some days, as there were no lightning trains or telegraphs then, and anxious hearts must retire to bed, but not to sleep. What will the British do? Will they kill us all? Such were the questions asked, which no one could answer.”

President John Quincy Adams died in 1848, a year after writing about his observations of the Battle of Bunker Hill.

David Currier’s father survived the Battle of Bunker Hill unscathed, but the town suffered three casualties: one was killed, and two were wounded. David died shortly after submitting to Merrill’s interview in 1860.

The Nerds are always on the hunt for primary accounts of the events of Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill from the perspective of children. If you are aware of any, feel free to let us know!

"A truer heart did not bleed at Thermopylae" - The 250th Anniversary of the Death of Jonas Parker

This Saturday is the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord.

As part of the celebration, the Nerds will participate in the Battle of Lexington reenactment. At the event, we will represent Jonas Parker, one of the eight Massachusetts men killed at the engagement.

This is his story.

Jonas Parker’s ties to Colonial Massachusetts can be traced back to his ancestor, Thomas Parker, who departed from London, England, on March 11, 1635. Upon arrival in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Thomas initially settled in Lynn. His family later established residence in Reading. On August 3, 1664, Jonas’ grandfather, John Parker, was born. John married twice: first to Deliverance Dodge of Beverly, and second to a woman known only as “Sarah.” The first marriage produced eight children, including Jonas’ father, Andrew. All of the children were born in Reading. The second marriage produced no children.

On June 25, 1712, John Parker purchased land in the southern part of Cambridge Farms (future Lexington) from John Cutler. The property was described as “one small Mansion house and about sixty Acres of Land more or less, and is bounded - Southerly upon sd Watertown Line.” He and his family subsequently settled on the property.

John Parker and his son Andrew served as the town’s “fence viewers” and constables. It appears that in the early 18th Century, the family was considered prominent, as the Parkers occupied the second row of pews in the town meeting house.

On August 2, 1720, Jonas’ father married Sarah Whitney, the daughter of Isaiah and Sarah Whitney. Jonas Parker and his twin sister Sarah were born in Lexington on February 6, 1721. The twins were the oldest of twelve children. In total, he had seven sisters and four brothers. On June 30, 1745, the Parker and Munroe families united when Jonas married Lucy Munroe. At the time of the wedding, Lucy was already pregnant with their first child.

Their daughter, Lucy, was born on October 9, 1745. Sadly, she was born “deaf and dumb”. By 1761, Jonas and Lucy had nine more children. Four were boys, and the remaining five were girls. In 1775, the oldest child was thirty years old, and the youngest, Mary, was fourteen.

According to the Reverend Theodore Parker’s 19th-century genealogical account of the Parker families of Lexington, Jonas and Lucy “removed to Holden, where he purchased a farm and saw-mill, but returned to Lexington after a few years.”

Photo Credit: Jennifer Heim

 

Primary and secondary sources indicate Jonas and his family, upon return, resided on Bedford Road north of the Lexington Common and immediately next door to the Reverend Jonas Clarke. A review of Jonas’ estate inventory supports that he was both a woodworker and a yeoman by trade. Some of the tools and materials owned by him on the eve of the Battle of Lexington included “Ruff timber in the shop, 5 hubs and spokes for woollen wheels, Timber for foot wheels, turned timber for wheels, 54 feet of joyce, 2 new screws, 2 lathes, New beadstead, Screw bench [and] wooden vice.” Parker appears also to be an avid reader as he owned a “Psalm book, old bible [and a] number of other books.” Jonas was described as a tall, muscular man, much like his younger brother, Amos. He was considered the best wrestler in the town.

Unfortunately for Jonas, his financial status in Lexington was significantly lower than that of his father and grandfather. Although Parker was not poor, he was not wealthy either. A review of Lexington’s tax valuations of 1774 reveals Jonas’ personal and real property was taxed at a rate of two shillings, eleven pence. By comparison, the wealthiest resident of Lexington, William Reed, Esq., was assessed 16 shillings, one pence. The town’s poorest resident, Ephraim Winship, was assessed a mere ten pence. Parker owned one house, at least twelve acres of land, three cows, and two pigs. His farm produced approximately one ton of “fresh meadow hay” and one ton of “English hay” per year.

Although there are no records of Jonas Parker serving at the Siege of Louisbourg or the French and Indian Wars, he was undoubtedly a member of the town’s militia company and was likely assigned to the alarm list.

Despite popular belief, Lexington’s militia was not known in 1775 as the “Lexington Minute Men.” Instead, the militia company either retained its Puritan title and was known as the “Lexington Training Band” or was called “Captain John Parker’s Company.” Period documents from the town suggest that the unit was officially known as the “Training Band,” and its soldiers were referred to as “training soldiers.” However, depositions from Lexington militiamen in the aftermath of the Battle of Lexington refer to their town militia not as the Lexington Training Band but as “Captain Parker’s Company.” It is possible that both unit designations were used interchangeably.

The organization consisted of one hundred and thirty men, four officers, seven non-commissioned officers, one clerk, one fifer, and one drummer. Six of the town’s families furnished a total of twenty-nine. The oldest militiaman was sixty-three, while the youngest was a mere fourteen. Fifty-five men were over the age of thirty, and only twenty-eight had seen combat during the two previous French wars. At the Battle of Lexington, Jonas held the rank of private.

By 1775, Parker, like many of his neighbors, believed war with the Crown was inevitable. As Hugh Earle Percy correctly noted, “things here are now drawing to a crisis every day. The people here openly oppose the New Acts. They have taken up arms in almost every part of this Province, & have drove in the Gov’t & most of the Council . . . A few days ago, they mustered about 7,000 men at Worcester . . . In short, this country is now in an open state of rebellion.” In the days leading up to the Battle of Lexington, Parker openly expressed his intent to fight if hostilities broke out. According to Elijah Sanderson, “some days before the Battle, I was conversing with Jonas Parker, who was killed, and heard him express his determination never to run from before the British troops.”

Based on town records and Parker’s estate inventory, he played a significant role in the community’s preparation for war. After Lexington purchased an iron cannon from Watertown in late 1774, he helped construct the carriage upon which the gun would be mounted. He was also responsible for cutting back the wood stocks of the fowling pieces of his fellow militiamen so socket bayonets could be slid over the barrels of their guns.

Given Jonas Parker’s proximity to the Lexington Common and the Reverend Clarke’s residence, he likely assembled with other elements of the town militia company after Paul Revere arrived in Lexington. As the Reverend Clarke recalled, “upon this timely intelligence, the militia of this town were alarmed, and ordered to meet on the usual place of parade.” According to Daniel Harrington, “the train band or Militia, and the alarm men (consisting of the aged and others exempted from turning out, excepting upon alarm) repaired in general to the common, close in with the meeting-house, the usual place of parade; and there were present when the roll was called over about one hundred and thirty of both.”  

As they gathered on the town common, Jonas’ cousin, Captain John Parker, addressed his men to “consult what might be done for our own and the people's safety; and also, to be ready for whatever service Providence might call us out to upon this alarming occasion, in case--just in case--overt acts of violence or open hostilities should be committed by this mercenary band of armed and blood-thirsty oppressors.” After some discussion, it was decided to confirm the accuracy of Revere’s message by sending scouts eastward to locate and observe the movements of the British regulars. “Two persons were sent, express, to Cambridge, if possible to gain intelligence of the motions of the troops and what route they took. The militia met, according to order, and waited the return of the messengers that they might order their measures as occasion should require.” Whether Jonas remained at Buckman Tavern or returned home after the company was dismissed is unknown.

Jonas Parker was present when the Training Band was reassembled hours later for the Battle of Lexington. Also on the Common with him was his son Jonas, Jr., his first cousins Captain John and Thaddeus Parker, and his nephew Ebenezer Parker. Other relatives in the ranks included Ensign Robert Munroe, Samuel Munroe, Jedediah Munroe, John Munroe, Stephen Munroe, Stephen Munroe Jr., Ebenezer Munroe, Nathan Munroe, Edmund Munroe, and Sergeant William Munroe.

According to Jonas’ son, “on the Morning of the Nineteenth of April Instant, about one or two o’clock, being informed, that a Number of Regular Officers had been Riding up and down the Road the evening and night preceding, and that some of the Inhabitants, as they were passing, had been Insulted by the Officers, and stopped by them; and being also Informed, that the Regular Troops were on their March from Boston, in order (as it was said) to take the Colony Stores, then Deposited at Concord, we met on the Parade of our Company in this town; After the Company had Collected, we were Ordered, by Captain Parker, (who Commanded us) to Disperse for the Present, and to be Ready to attend the beat of the Drum, and Accordingly the Company went into houses near the place of Parade. We further Testify and Say, that, about five o'Clock in the morning, we attended the beat of our Drum, and were formed on the Parade; we were faced towards the Regulars then marching up to us, and some of our Company were comeing to the parade with their backs towards the Troops, and Others on the parade, began to Disperse when the Regulars fired on the Company, before a Gun was fired by any of our company on them. They killed eight of our company, and wounded several, and continued their fire, until we had all made our escape.”

True to his earlier pledge to Elijah Sanderson, Jonas Parker stood his ground when hostilities erupted on the Lexington Common. After the British light infantry opened fire, they “made a huzza” and ran furiously towards the retiring militia. As the soldiers surged forward, Ebenezer Munroe remembered Jonas Parker “standing … with his balls and flints in his hat, on the ground between his feet, and heard him declare he would never run. He was shot down at the second fire . . . I saw him struggling on the ground, attempting to load his gun . . .As he lay on the ground, they [ran] him through with the bayonet.”

According to a petition for financial compensation submitted by Lucy Parker a year after the Battles of Lexington and Concord, British soldiers pillaged the dead, including her husband, stealing their muskets, cartridge boxes, bayonets, and other arms and equipment that they had carried during their earlier muster morning.

As the regulars left the onslaught behind, wives, children, and spectators emerged from hiding and made their way to the common. Many were overwhelmed with emotion and grief at the sight of husbands, sons, brothers, cousins, and neighbors lying dead or wounded on the field. As they began to tend to the wounded, over two hundred men from Woburn’s militia and minuteman companies arrived in Lexington. Disturbed at what they saw, the men halted and assisted the Lexington residents in treating the wounded and carrying the dead into the meetinghouse. Afterward, the Woburn men reassembled and resumed their march toward Concord.

The Reverend Clarke’s daughter, Elizabeth, described the original burial of Jonas Parker and the seven other men killed at the Battle of Lexington. “Father sent [us] down to Grandfather Cook's to see who was killed and what their condition was, and, in the afternoon, Father, Mother, with me and the baby went to the Meeting House. There was the eight men that was killed, seven of them my Father's parishioners, one from Woburn, all in Boxes made of four large boards nailed up and, after Pa had prayed, they were put into two horse carts and took into the grave yard where some of the neighbors had made a large trench, as near the woods as possible and there we followed the bodies of those first slain, Father, Mother, I and the baby, there I stood and there I saw them let down into the ground, it was a little rainy but we waited to see them covered up with clods and then for fear the British should find them, my Father thought some of the men had best cut some pine or oak bows and spread them on their place of burial so that it looked like a heap of brush.”

Following Jonas’s death, the remaining members of the Parker family, who lived in Lexington, struggled to remain intact. It is possible that Jonas’ wife could not care for Lucy and the two youngest Parker girls, Elizabeth and Mary. Guardians were appointed to look after the three young women. Lucy and Elizabeth departed Lexington to live with their guardians in Princeton (MA) and Billerica. Dr. Joseph Fiske was appointed as Mary's guardian. She stayed in Lexington until her marriage in 1782.

What happened to Jonas’s wife after 1778 remains a mystery. Unfortunately, she has entirely vanished from all town and regional records.

Due to the Battle of Lexington's negative impact on the family, Jonas’s estate was not probated in the Middlesex Courts until 1788. A partial review of his estate reveals the following items and their respective value:

Ruff timber in the shop, kitchen chamber 0 4 7 0
small sugar box, 2 great buttery, toster 0 2 0 0
5 hubs and spokes for woollen wheels 0 4 7 3
Timber for foot wheels, part wrought 0 10 4 3
turned timber for wheels, foot wheel __?__ 0 14 8 0
54 feet of joyce, 2 new screws in the shop 0 7 8 3
New beadstead in the shop ___?___ 0 7 0 0
Blue great coat, blue strait bodied coat 2 15 4 0
Camblet coat, pair of knit breeches l 3 4 0
Green jacket, white jacket, dark sustion coat 0 9 2 0
Gray wooling coat, stript lining, wooll jacket 0 7 4 0
Leather breeches, fine shirt 0 10 0 0
Silk handkerchief, lowered pocket handkerchief 0 3 0 1
Cheked handkerchief, bewer hat, wigglet 0 12 4 0
Pr calf skin shoes 0 7 4 0
Blue tow stockings, blue grey stockings 0 3 8 0
Pr of leggings, read cap, pr of new gloves 0 3 0 1
Yearling calf, burrow, a sow 3 8 0 0
2 woollen spinning wheels, foot wheel 0 16 8 0
5 earthen plates and 2 earthen bowls 0 1 4 3
Psalm book, old bible, number of other books 0 2 7 3
Small hollow plain, 2 lathes 0 9 8 0
Screw bench, wooden vice 0 7 10 l
Barrel tub, 2 washing tubs 0 2 1 2

On the 60th Anniversary of the Battle of Lexington, Jonas Parker and the other seven men killed at the engagement were removed from the town’s burial ground and reinterred in a ceremonial vault located underneath the oldest monument on the Lexington Common. During the ceremony, the famed statesman Edward Everett highlighted the sacrifice and courage of Jonas Parker. At the height of his speech, he simply declared, “History, — Roman history, — does not furnish an example of bravery that out shines that of Jonas Parker. A truer heart did not bleed at Thermopylae.”

"They Would Come Perilously Near to Being Worthless" - The Doolittle Plates of 1775

With mild interest, the Nerds have been following a discussion on a Facebook page regarding the arms and equipment carried by Massachusetts provincials at the Battles of Lexington and Concord. 

Despite overwhelming evidence that the militia and minutemen were fully outfitted for war—carrying packs, blankets, bayonets, and cartridge boxes—a few stubborn holdouts continue to dismiss the facts. Worse yet, they cite Doolittle Plates I and III as proof that militiamen carried little more than a musket and perhaps a cartridge box.

The Doolittle Plates present a conundrum. While certain elements of the illustrations are remarkably accurate, other details are crude and demonstrably incorrect.

So, what is the story behind the Doolittle Plates?

Amos Doolittle and Ralph Earl were two Connecticut artisans who played a crucial role in documenting the first battle of the American Revolution through their engravings of Lexington and Concord. Doolittle, a silversmith and engraver from New Haven, sought to establish himself by producing prints of historical events. At the same time, Earl, a self-taught portrait artist, had experience capturing likenesses but little knowledge of engraving. Their collaboration arose because Doolittle needed an artist to create line drawings for his engravings. Despite his Loyalist sympathies, Earl was the only professional artist available in New Haven. Together, they embarked on a journey to the battle sites, gathering eyewitness accounts and sketching the landscape to create an accurate visual record of the conflict.

 

Close up image of Doolittle's Plate I: The Battle of Lexington

 
Despite the challenges of working in a war zone, Earl and Doolittle captured key battles' key moments. Earl made rough sketches on-site, often using Doolittle as a model to depict soldiers in action, while Doolittle later engraved the images onto copper plates. These prints, which included detailed representations of buildings, fences, and trees, were among the earliest artistic depictions of the Revolutionary War. However, the final images appeared somewhat crude, possibly due to Earl’s lack of proper tools and the rushed nature of their work. Nevertheless, their efforts resulted in four engravings that documented the battle and served as propaganda for the Patriot cause. The prints were widely distributed, posted in public spaces, and sold in plain and hand-colored versions, making them an essential part of Revolutionary-era visual culture.

However, despite their historical importance, Doolittle’s prints contain several inaccuracies, likely due to the artist’s artistic limitations, reliance on secondhand accounts, and the inherent challenges of reconstructing battles visually.

One of the main inaccuracies in Doolittle’s prints is his portrayal of British and American troops. Both Doolittle and Earl interviewed eyewitnesses to the events of April 19, 1775, and as a result, achieved a degree of accuracy regarding troop placement at different moments of that fateful day. However, their depictions of the combatants are often simplistic and anachronistic, with both sides appearing in neatly arranged formations and wearing attire that doesn't always match historical records. British soldiers are drawn wearing full-length coats instead of light infantry coatees, and their headgear is sometimes inconsistent with known styles worn by British regiments in 1775. Colonial militia members are erroneously depicted more uniformly, with most of the militia and minute men dressed in blue and brown frock coats. Provincial equipment, even the most essential items, like a shot pouch or cartridge box, are missing from many men. This omission is inconsistent with the supporting documentation of the day. As Lieutenant Colonel Smith noted in his report to General Thomas Gage, the men of Lexington consisted of “a body of the country people drawn up in military order, with arms and accoutrement, and, as appeared after, loaded.”

Did we mention that Major Pitcairn’s horse appears to have a human face in Plate I?

Another issue with Doolittle’s work is the exaggerated orderliness of battle scenes. The Battle of Lexington was a chaotic skirmish, with militia members scrambling for cover as British lights surged forward without orders. Doolittle, however, shows a more conventional battlefield arrangement with British soldiers standing in neat lines as if engaging in European-style warfare. Surviving Lexington militiamen are depicted in Plate I as withdrawing in a semi-orderly fashion. This misrepresentation may have been influenced by artistic conventions of the time, which favored structured compositions over the raw disorder of actual combat.

 

Doolittle's Plate II: A View of the Town of Concord

 

Doolittle’s works also contain inaccuracies in architectural and geographical details. While John Warner Barber, a colleague of Doolittle, asserted years later that “These plates, though crude in execution . . . give a faithful representation of the houses, etc., as they appeared at that time,” some aspects of the illustrations of Lexington and Concord are incorrect. These inconsistencies include buildings that are misrepresented or inaccurately placed. In some instances, structures appear more refined or strategically positioned than they were in reality, possibly to enhance the clarity and dramatic effect of the scene. These discrepancies suggest that while Doolittle aimed to provide a visual record, his engravings were not entirely free from artistic interpretation and modification.

Historian and minister William Agur Beardsley best described the accuracy of the Doolittle Plates. In his 1914 essay An Old New Haven Engraver and His Work: Amos Doolittle, Beardsley stated, “These Plates are exceedingly crude in every way, and if they had to depend upon their artistic merit and skillful workmanship for their Value, they would come perilously near to being worthless. But their very crudity is perhaps their most valuable feature to the collector, or to anyone, for that matter. Aside from all that, however, an interest attaches to them as the earliest work of a man who was struggling with an art, of which as yet he knew practically nothing, and in which he never did rise to any high degree of excellence. And further, they have an historical interest. They cannot be regarded as accurate representations of the scenes depicted, of course, but still they were made by men who were portraying some things, at least, which they had seen with their own eyes.”

Nevertheless, Doolittle’s prints became valuable historical records, offering one of the first visual interpretations of the war. After completing this project, he continued engraving maps, banknotes, Yale diplomas, and scientific illustrations, making him an important figure in early American printmaking. On the other hand, Earl returned to Boston and later fled to England due to his Loyalist views. He eventually returned to America and resumed his career as a portrait artist. 

Today, Doolittle’s Lexington and Concord engravings remain significant as artistic works and historical documents. They provide a rare contemporary visual account of the battles that ignited the American Revolution.

Update - March 15, 2025: Historian and engraver Andy Volpe provided feedback on our article in response to our post. Here's what he had to say - "As an engraver myself, there are other factors in the actual cutting of a copperplate that may have lead (Doolittle) to over-simplify the design and details. My work trying to replicate Revere's engravings has me putting in something like 60 hours of work engraving a plate. And, everything in printmaking is in reverse. And what happens if you make a mistake? You're looking at a few hours of painstaking work having to carefully scrape-out the mistake area, mark the back of the plate and carefully hammer the back to flatten out the divot you scraped off the face of the copper.... So people like Revere and I'm assuming Doolittle tried to avoid making mistakes and if they did, may not have cared enough to try and correct them, as of course, the other factor, time is of the essence and now you have to source the paper and press, hand-print each print (which is hours of work), and then find a way to sell them. Revere had an advantage with Edes & Gill. I wish I knew more about Doolittle."