[goodnesswins]

Last night I was explaining the Ride of Paul Revere to my 10 year old (public schooled) grandson...who claims to have never heard of such a thing....let alone anything about England except they treated people badly....only knowledgable about American Indians....ANYWAY....can't believe no one has posted this...

[Tanniker Smith]

"The British are Coming" is from the poem written so long afterward. But it does get ingrained in the psyche, I guess.

Many years ago, a few people spent a weekend camping near Lake George, NY. So we stopped in at Fort William Henry, which if you've read "Last of the Mohicans", you'll know that it was only a fort from 1755-1757. When we saw the demostrations and recreations inside, the first thing that takes everyone by surprise is all the Redcoats ... usually followed by the slap of the forehead or the "Well, duh!!"

Helllooooo, it was two decades before the Revolution. The country was British and the Redcoats were the *Good Guys*!

TS

[Salamander]

If the Redcoats had attacked in 2004, the Dems would be asking "what did we to provoke them?".

The UN would be consulted and somehow, insufferable American arrogance and insensitivity to other cultures would be to blame.

[France would immediately surrender to whomever happened to be standing nearby at the time]

PETA would complain about the 'abuse' of the horse.

The 4th of July is now merely a reason for a big barbecue and some cool pyrotechnics.

Francis Scott Key wept.

[Rummyfan]

Bump for later.

[gusopol3]

David Hackett-Fischer is a great historian. His current book is about Washington crossing the Delaware. At least Massachussetts put the minuteman from Lexington Green on its state quarter.

[xrp]

What a pity that 229 years ago, this brave colonist helped to encourage an uprising in protest of taxes that are pitifully small compared to today's oppressive tax rates. Instead, today, Americans cry to their government for education, health care, security and hand-outs, simply because they are unwilling to undertake these tasks for themselves.

[Snake65]

LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower, as a signal light, --
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country-folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade, --
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay, --
A line of black, that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and somber and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When be came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British regulars fired and fled, --
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm, --
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed,
And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1860.

[FourPeas]

The story of Paul Revere (and, actually, all the history of the American Revolution) absolutely fascinates my six year-old. We have several good age-appropriate books about Paul Revere's ride. The thing that amazes me the most is that many of the accounts ignore William Dawes taking the other (ie. land) route and they ignore Dr. Joseph Warren's participation.

My son's love hearing about how Revere forgot several of the items he needed for his ride -- like his spurs. Or that he was captured and then subsequently released. Or that he had to go back to a tavern because John Hancock left important documents in a trunk there -- documents that absolutely could not fall into the hands of the British regulars. And, how he carried the trunk through the lines of the minutemen just as the battle was starting.

What a great story! How could anyone deprive children the thrill of the story of Paul Revere's ride?!

[concentric circles]

[Jack Black]

The primary goal of the Brittish regulars was to aprehend the leaders of the opposition, Sam Adams and John Hancock. There secondary goal was, to disarm the populace along the way. Here's the whole story of Paul Revere's ride:

Utter and complete nonsense. The only goal of the army was to capture and destroy the weapons and war material stored in Concord. After they marched through Lexington and killed a bunch of minutemen while taking almost no casualties themselve they continuned on to Concord and searched the town. Spies had provided them with information. They had orders to destroy powder, balls, cannons (they found some) and flour. The first American Revolution was started by men opposing gun confiscation! (The second one may well be started for the same reason)

They had no orders to captue Adams and Hancock, and made no attempt to search for them. They also had no plan to disarm the population along the way. (Cambridge, and the other towns they rode through were not disarmed in the slightest. They did not even search Lexington after slaughtering the militia there, they simply yelled three cheers, fired a volley and marched on to Concord.)

You might read "Lexington and Concord" by Arthur Bernon Tourtellot, available at Amazon. It was written in 1956 and is very accurate and completely free of PC B.S.

*IT WAS A GREAT DAY, ON THAT WE AGREE!!* <

[hedgetrimmer]

Bump for Paul Revere.

[cynicom]

Revere was sent on this ride by Dr. Joseph Warren, who later died at the battle of Breeds Hill.