Stories about General Warren, in relation to the fifth of March massacre, and the battle of Bunker Hill

by Rebecca Warren Brown

William. Where is it now, mamma?

Mrs. M. Gen. Warren's nephew, the present Dr. John C. Warren, has it. He also has the oration which Gen. Warren delivered on the 5th of March, in the orator's own hand-writing.

William. You have not yet told us, mamma, what became of the body of the general?

Mrs. M. It was buried near where he fell, with many other bodies, both English and American. Some time after, his friends took it up and placed it in a tomb in the Tremont burying-ground, and finally the bones were removed to the family tomb under St. Paul's church.

William. Would not the British let his friends have it to bury at first, dear mother?

Mrs. M. I presume they would, had any of them demanded it in time: but these friends could not ascertain where he was, nor did they know for a certainty of his death, until after he was buried. The youngest brother, of whom I have spoken so often, Dr. John Warren, was at the time of the battle, in full practice, as a physician, in Salem. So soon as he heard there was likely to be an engagement in Charlestown, he armed himself, and set out on foot for that place. He went on as rapidly as he could, he saw the town of Charlestown in flames, and was lighted on his way by its burning glare, but could not ascertain, for some time, if there had yet been any fighting. At last he was informed that there had been a severe engagement. His impatience to be on the spot, and his anxiety to know where his brother Joseph was, became now almost insupportable. He had studied his profession with that brother, and knew his ardent character so well, that he felt confident he would be among the combatants; he felt, too, that no danger, no thought for himself, would keep him back from the hottest of the fray; he was eager to be with him, to share his danger if he could not guard him from it. Notwithstanding his impatience, he could learn nothing certain about him; he determined to penetrate to the field of battle at all risks. As he attempted to pass a sentinel, on his way, he was repulsed by him with the point of a bayonet, which gave him so deep a wound, that he carried the scar from it as long as he lived. Still he pushed on, and at last ascertained that his brother was in the engagement, and that he was either killed or taken prisoner. His character was quite as enthusiastic as that of his brother, and he now earnestly entreated to be allowed to join the army as a volunteer: to avenge his brother's death, or, if he was not killed, to effect his release, was now his most fervent wish. This request was refused. His services were needed elsewhere. The poor fellows who had been wounded in the battle were even now suffering from the want of surgical assistance. Dr. John Warren, although then only twenty-four years of age, had already acted as surgeon at the battle of Lexington. His skill, therefore, as a surgeon, was too well known to allow Congress to accept his services in any other way. With a heart aching at the uncertainty attending a beloved brother's fate, he had to fulfil the duties of the office assigned him. This post, of hospital surgeon, he retained during the rest of the war.

His mother was almost distracted with the suspense in which she was kept respecting her first-born son. Although from the first she had said she was sure he would fall a sacrifice to the cause he had espoused so warmly, yet now she could not believe that such had been his fate. It was three days after the battle, before certain intelligence was obtained of his death. When his mother first realized that she should see him no more, she was entirely overwhelmed with her affliction. He was her eldest son; after the death of her husband, she had looked to him as her principal solace and support. He was all her fondest hopes could wish. Honor, respect and love, had attended him in every step of his career; and now, just as he had attained to all the honors his country could bestow, he was taken away, and she had not even the melancholy satisfaction of embalming his body with her tears. For a time she refused to be comforted; but ere long, that religion which had comforted her in all her former afflictions, exerted its healing power over her wounded spirit, and though she still sorrowed, it was not without hope. The memory of this much loved son was fondly cherished by her to the end of her life. Every anniversary of his death was kept by her as a day of fasting and prayer, and her hospitable house was closed to all but the poor.

His eldest and youngest brothers were present when his body was disinterred. So soon as the youngest brother, Dr. John Warren, saw that it was indeed the body of his respected preceptor and much loved friend and brother, that was thus taken from the recesses of the grave to receive the last tribute of affection, his emotion was so great as to entirely overpower him, he dropped motionless by the side of him he so deeply mourned, and it was some time before consciousness was restored again.