Paul Revere still rides through the American imagination, the hoofbeats of his horse pounding out a drumbeat for liberty. My father used to tell me about how, when he was a grade-school student at Sacred Heart (a Catholic school in Washington, D.C.), he and the other students would be called upon to recite, “Listen, my children, and you shall hear/Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere…” And while Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1860 poem “Paul Revere’s Ride” may not be the elementary-school staple it once was, it still holds an influence in American culture, and it may well have inspired the title of David Hackett Fischer’s 1995 book Paul Revere’s Ride.
Fischer, an emeritus professor of history at Brandeis University, has made a name for himself as an historian whose work combines academic rigour with an engaging sense of the drama of history, and of history’s ongoing impact on the present. It is for that reason that books like Albion’s Seed (1989), Fischer’s exploration of how the influence of four distinct cultural groups from the British Isles persists in American life and culture to this day, have gained a wide and appreciative readership. Paul Revere’s Ride shares with Albion’s Seed exhaustive research, the results of which are set forth with a strong narrative edge and a flowing, graceful writing style.
The early passages of Paul Revere’s Ride introduce the reader to a colonial New England setting in which heavy-handed actions by the British Government are increasing the determination of New England colonists to assert their rights as Englishmen, even if force becomes necessary. Against that background, Paul Revere emerges not only as a skilled silversmith but also a leader in the incipient patriot cause.
In one of the book’s many helpful appendices, “Paul Revere’s Role in the Revolutionary Movement,” Fischer suggests that “the revolutionary movement in Boston was more open and pluralist than scholars have believed. It was not a unitary organization, but a loose alliance of many overlapping groups. That structure gave Paul Revere and Joseph Warren a special importance, which came from the multiplicity and range of their alliances” (p. 301). This passage provides a characteristic example of how Fischer illuminates new dimensions of a story that might already have seemed familiar to many Americans.
A highlight of Paul Revere’s Ride is, of course, Fischer’s account of Paul Revere’s ride. The colonists had anticipated that the British would move westward from Boston toward the village of Concord. Once the British forces’ intentions were clear, Robert Newman and Captain John Pulling – respectively the sexton and a vestryman for Christ Church – painstakingly ascended the 154 steps to the top of the steeple of Old North Church. Whigs across the way in Charlestown, watching the steeple very closely for the designated signal, soon saw that “two faint yellow lights were burning close together, high in the tower of the church. It was the signal that Revere had promised to send if British troops were leaving Boston by boat across the Back Bay to Cambridge” (p. 103).
One if by land, two if by sea. It is a moment that has taken on mythic significance in the American consciousness, as is Revere’s westward ride that followed.
Revere’s task was to warn patriot leaders Samuel Adams and John Hancock, at Lexington, that both men had been targeted for capture as leaders of the American “rebellion.” The Charlestown Whigs found Revere a horse, and he began his westward journey.
Fischer is clearly having a grand time chronicling “the midnight ride of Paul Revere.” Moreover, I get the sense that Fischer must be an equestrian himself, given the way he describes how the earlier, calmer stages of Revere’s journey must have gone, once he had left Boston and Charlestown:
Then he turned west on the road to Lexington, and kicked his horse into an easy canter on the moonlit road. He always savored that moment – a feeling that any horseman will understand. Psychologists of exercise tell us that there is a third stage of running, which brings euphoria in its train. There is also a third stage of riding, called the canter. After the tedium of the walk and the bone-jarring bounce of the trot, the animal surges forward in an easy rolling rhythm. Horse and rider become one being, more nearly so than in any other gait. The horse moves gracefully over the ground with fluent ease, and the rider experiences a feeling of completeness, serenity, and calm. Paul Revere’s language [from his recollections] tells us that such a feeling came to him as he cantered along the Lexington Road. Even at the vortex of violent events that were swirling dangerously around him, he experienced a sensation of quiet and inner peace. (p. 107)
Not all of the midnight ride was cantering and inner peace, of course. Revere was spotted and accosted by British regulars, and in response Revere spurred his horse to a gallop, took a long detour (one that may have saved him from capture), and safely reached Lexington, where Adams and Hancock were lodging with a local clergyman. The warning had come in time, and the two patriot leaders were not captured.
After mentioning that Revere told a sharp-tongued American militia sergeant that “The Regulars are coming out!”, Fischer states that “The alert reader will note what Paul Revere did not say. He did not cry, ‘The British are coming’” – and the very good reason for his not doing so is that “In 1775, the people of Massachusetts still thought that they were British” (pp. 109-10) – that they were Britons in the colonies, fighting for the same rights that Britons enjoyed at home. The Declaration of Independence was still more than 14 months in the future when Paul Revere made his ride.
Another highlight of Paul Revere’s Ride is Fischer’s account of the battles of Lexington and Concord on 19 April 1775. At Lexington Common, the battle seems to have started almost by accident – many of the Americans seemed unsure whether or not to obey the British order to lower their weapons and disperse – but British troops fired en masse, and their actions shocked the Americans. Suddenly, Americans found themselves counting battlefield casualties that had been inflicted not by Frenchmen from Canada, or by hostile Indigenous Americans, but rather by British troops that were nominally in Massachusetts to “protect” American colonists.
Fischer captures well the emotions of shock and anger running through the minds of the people of Lexington as they mourned their newly dead fellow-townsmen and family members. As for militia commander Captain John Parker, he mustered his company, and ordered them to move toward nearby Concord. “The men were no longer in doubt about what to do. They were ready to give battle again, but on different terms” (p. 201).
At Concord Bridge, the story was indeed quite different. The American militia were well-prepared, and knew what to expect from the British. “The New England muskets rang out with deadly accuracy….The Americans aimed carefully and fired low. Many appeared to have drawn a bead on the British officers….The Regulars found themselves caught in a trap” (pp. 213-14).
Troop dispositions and tactics were with the Americans, and it was under those circumstances that the Battle of Concord took a turn that might once have seemed unthinkable to the colonists: “[T]o the amazement of American militia, the Regulars suddenly turned and ran for their lives. It was a rare spectacle in military history. A picked force of British infantry, famed for its indomitable courage on many a field of battle, was broken by a band of American militia” (p. 214).
This was the “shot heard round the world” immortalized in poetry by Ralph Waldo Emerson in “Concord Hymn” (1837):
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
Paul Revere’s Ride is meticulously accurate as history, and it captures the drama of history exceptionally well. I took this book along with me, on a conference trip to Boston; and once the conference was over, I found that Fischer’s book constituted a wonderful companion text for my walks along Boston’s Freedom Trail, and for a tour of the Minute Man National Historical Park at Lexington and Concord.
And Fischer’s book, like any great work of history, continues to inform conversations in the present day, long after the battle smoke from “the shot heard round the world” dissipated. When former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin, who was then a prominent Republican Party politician, visited Lexington and Concord in 2011, she claimed that Revere made his ride to let the British know “that they weren’t going to be taking away our arms” – that, in effect, the British Army’s march on the two villages amounted to an exercise in Democratic Party-style gun control.
Palin’s attempt to link Paul Revere’s ride with Republican Party politics of the time drew the immediate attention of fact-checkers, who were quick to cite Fischer’s book as evidence that the primary purpose of the British raid on Lexington and Concord, as stated above, was to apprehend Adams and Hancock as “rebel” leaders; the seizure of stores of colonial arms was a secondary goal. I remember that, on sites like the comments page of The Washington Post, conservative and pro-Palin readers would respond to citations of Fischer’s book with sarcastic comments like “Way to carry the water for the Democrats”; but no one could gainsay the rigour of Fischer’s research or the accuracy of his conclusions.
With the recent commemoration of the 250th anniversary of the battles of Lexington and Concord, I anticipate that Paul Revere’s Ride is finding more readers from a new generation of history enthusiasts. That is exactly as it should be. This book is one of the best historical studies that I have ever read.