On the night of April 18, into April 19, in 1775, Paul Revere made his famous ride.<\/p>\n
The spring of 1775 was a tense time. Prominent Bostonians were under constant threat of arrest from the British, and many of them – to avoid this – moved their families to outlying communities. However, two of the main patriotic leaders (Benjamin Church and Joseph Warren) stayed in Boston. Paul Revere did as well, and kept a close eye on British movements through that spring. Revere was trusted as a messenger, he knew everybody, he was just one of those guys.<\/p>\n
In mid-April, Revere started to notice some ominous signs: mainly that the British ships were taken out of the water, to be worked on, repaired. He could sense that something was coming. He felt the British were preparing for some kind of attack.<\/p>\n
Revere went to Concord on April 16 (most of the weaponry was stored there) and warned the leaders of that community that the British were preparing something<\/i>, they were up to something<\/i>, and if they were going to strike, they would most definitely try to seize the weapons stash in Concord. So the people of Concord went to work, hiding their store of weapons in barns, cellars, swamps, etc. (Like I mentioned: Paul Revere was trusted. He knew everybody. <\/p>\n
So. April 16. Revere returned to Boston from Concord, and met with other revolutionary leaders, and that is when they came up with the “one if by land, two if by sea” warning system. Revere knew they needed a way to have some advance warning about which route the British were going to take<\/i> when they finally did attack.<\/p>\n
By land? Or by sea?<\/p>\n
So, Revere set up the system: Signal lanterns would be placed in the belfry of Old North Church<\/a> (the steeple can be seen across the Charles River). If two lanterns were hung, then the British would be crossing the Charles by boat. If one lantern was hung, then the British would choose to attack using a land route.<\/p>\n “One if by land, two if by sea.”<\/p>\n This plan was put in place just in time. On April 18, in the early evening, a stable boy came to Paul Revere, telling him that he had overheard some British soldiers discussing the upcoming attack, and that it was planned for early the next morning. The stable boy knew who to bring this information to, and that was Paul Revere. (Again, check out Gladwell’s analysis of Paul Revere’s personality. Really interesting.)<\/p>\n Revere, on receiving this urgent piece of information, knew he had to get the warning out (and that he especially had to warn John Hancock and Samuel Adams who, at that time, were hiding out in Lexington).<\/p>\n The signal was given: two lanterns.<\/p>\n So off he went onto his now legendary ride. Revere took the water route out of Boston, rowed across the Charles, and galloped through the communities north of Boston sounding the alarm. (Medford, Charlestown, Lexington, Concord.) Because of Paul Revere, the British had completely lost the element of surprise. When they came to attack, they found the rebellious colonists waiting for them everywhere, ambushing them left and right, from behind stone walls, hiding behind trees …<\/p>\n An interesting tidbit (this is why I love this time in American history – yeah, the events themselves are really cool … but it’s details like the following one that really have me hooked, like a crack addict):<\/p>\n In his hurry to depart, Revere forgot to bring along pieces of cloth to wrap the oars of his boat. The purpose of this was to muffle the sound of them cutting through the water. The Somerset<\/i> (the British man-of-war) was at anchor, right there in the harbor. Paul Revere had to row right by them<\/i>, and so any sound at all would have alerted the crew, and if Revere was busted, the whole jig would be up. Revere was in a bit of a pickle … standing by his boat, trying to figure out how he could improvise … could he take off his stockings? Tie them around the end of the oars?<\/p>\n One of the boatmen involved in helping Revere make this crossing came to the rescue. He ran to his girlfriend’s house and asked her for her petticoat. hahaha One can only imagine her startled response to the nighttime demand at her door: “Please, dear. It’s 10 pm, and I need you to take off your petticoat, give it to me, and don’t ask me ANY questions about it!!” But apparently, this girl, whoever she was, complied – took off her petticoat, gave it up, and Revere used that to wrap up the ends of his oars.<\/p>\n I love that woman, whoever she is.<\/p>\n So. In honor of the great Paul Revere, I have a couple other things to post. One is, my conversation with Cashel about the American Revolution<\/a>. I read that piece on the radio in 2003. I love it. It’s one of my favorite conversations I’ve ever had with him.<\/p>\n And lastly, please find Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s celebrated poem “Paul Revere’s Ride”. I know large swaths of it by heart … To me, it’s a thrilling poem. Because of the story it tells, but also because of its rollicking rhythm, you can feel<\/i> the suspense, you can feel<\/i> the urgency. It’s meant to be read out loud. Try it for yourself – it’s so much funner that way. You can feel the beat of the horse hooves in the poem. The last stanza is beyond compare. “For borne on the night-wind of the Past …” I mean, come ON!!<\/p>\n April 18, 1775. A great day in American history. One of my personal favorite “stories” of the American revolution.<\/p>\n – by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<\/p>\n Listen my children and you shall hear Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, A hurry of hoofs in a village street, It was twelve by the village clock It was one by the village clock, It was two by the village clock, You know the rest. In the books you have read So through the night rode Paul Revere; On the night of April 18, into April 19, in 1775, Paul Revere made his famous ride. The spring of 1775 was a tense time. Prominent Bostonians were under constant threat of arrest from the British, and many of them … Continue reading Paul Revere’s Ride<\/h3>\n
\nOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
\nOn the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
\nHardly a man is now alive
\nWho remembers that famous day and year.
\nHe said to his friend, “If the British march
\nBy land or sea from the town to-night,
\nHang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
\nOf the North Church tower as a signal light,–
\nOne if by land, and two if by sea;
\nAnd I on the opposite shore will be,
\nReady to ride and spread the alarm
\nThrough every Middlesex village and farm,
\nFor the country folk to be up and to arm.”<\/p>\n
\nSilently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
\nJust as the moon rose over the bay,
\nWhere swinging wide at her moorings lay
\nThe Somerset, British man-of-war;
\nA phantom ship, with each mast and spar
\nAcross the moon like a prison bar,
\nAnd a huge black hulk, that was magnified
\nBy its own reflection in the tide.<\/p>\n
\nWanders and watches, with eager ears,
\nTill in the silence around him he hears
\nThe muster of men at the barrack door,
\nThe sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
\nAnd the measured tread of the grenadiers,
\nMarching down to their boats on the shore.<\/p>\n
\nBy the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
\nTo the belfry chamber overhead,
\nAnd startled the pigeons from their perch
\nOn the sombre rafters, that round him made
\nMasses and moving shapes of shade,–
\nBy the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
\nTo the highest window in the wall,
\nWhere he paused to listen and look down
\nA moment on the roofs of the town
\nAnd the moonlight flowing over all.<\/p>\n
\nIn their night encampment on the hill,
\nWrapped in silence so deep and still
\nThat he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread,
\nThe watchful night-wind, as it went
\nCreeping along from tent to tent,
\nAnd seeming to whisper, “All is well!”
\nA moment only he feels the spell
\nOf the place and the hour, and the secret dread
\nOf the lonely belfry and the dead;
\nFor suddenly all his thoughts are bent
\nOn a shadowy something far away,
\nWhere the river widens to meet the bay,–
\nA line of black that bends and floats
\nOn the rising tide like a bridge of boats.<\/p>\n
\nBooted and spurred, with a heavy stride
\nOn the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
\nNow he patted his horse’s side,
\nNow he gazed at the landscape far and near,
\nThen, impetuous, stamped the earth,
\nAnd turned and tightened his saddle girth;
\nBut mostly he watched with eager search
\nThe belfry tower of the Old North Church,
\nAs it rose above the graves on the hill,
\nLonely and spectral and sombre and still.
\nAnd lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height
\nA glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
\nHe springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
\nBut lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
\nA second lamp in the belfry burns.<\/p>\n
\nA shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
\nAnd beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
\nStruck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
\nThat was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
\nThe fate of a nation was riding that night;
\nAnd the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
\nKindled the land into flame with its heat.
\nHe has left the village and mounted the steep,
\nAnd beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
\nIs the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
\nAnd under the alders that skirt its edge,
\nNow soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
\nIs heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.<\/p>\n
\nWhen he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
\nHe heard the crowing of the cock,
\nAnd the barking of the farmer’s dog,
\nAnd felt the damp of the river fog,
\nThat rises after the sun goes down.<\/p>\n
\nWhen he galloped into Lexington.
\nHe saw the gilded weathercock
\nSwim in the moonlight as he passed,
\nAnd the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
\nGaze at him with a spectral glare,
\nAs if they already stood aghast
\nAt the bloody work they would look upon.<\/p>\n
\nWhen he came to the bridge in Concord town.
\nHe heard the bleating of the flock,
\nAnd the twitter of birds among the trees,
\nAnd felt the breath of the morning breeze
\nBlowing over the meadow brown.
\nAnd one was safe and asleep in his bed
\nWho at the bridge would be first to fall,
\nWho that day would be lying dead,
\nPierced by a British musket ball.<\/p>\n
\nHow the British Regulars fired and fled,—
\nHow the farmers gave them ball for ball,
\n>From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
\nChasing the redcoats down the lane,
\nThen crossing the fields to emerge again
\nUnder the trees at the turn of the road,
\nAnd only pausing to fire and load.<\/p>\n
\nAnd so through the night went his cry of alarm
\nTo every Middlesex village and farm,—
\nA cry of defiance, and not of fear,
\nA voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
\nAnd a word that shall echo for evermore!
\nFor, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
\nThrough all our history, to the last,
\nIn the hour of darkness and peril and need,
\nThe people will waken and listen to hear
\nThe hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
\nAnd the midnight message of Paul Revere.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"