Revolutionary Heroes, and Other Historical Papers | Page 3

mother and
in her handwriting, is now among the archives of that ancient and
famous institution. He taught one year, at the end of which he entered
the office of a Boston physician, under whom he pursued the usual
medical studies and was admitted to practice.
The young doctor, tall, handsome, alert, graceful, full of energy and fire,
was formed to succeed in such a community as that of Boston. His
friends, when he was twenty-three years of age, had the pleasure of
reading in the Boston newspaper the following notice:
"Last Thursday evening was married Dr. Joseph Warren, one of the
physicians of this town, to Miss Elizabeth Hooton, only daughter of the
late Mr. Richard Hooton, merchant, deceased, an accomplished young
lady with a handsome fortune."
Thus launched in life and gifted as he was, it is not surprising that he
should soon have attained a considerable practice. But for one
circumstance he would have advanced in his profession even more
rapidly than he did. When he had been but a few months married, the
Stamp Act was passed, which began the long series of agitating events
that ended in severing the colonies from the mother country. The
wealthy society of Boston, from the earliest period down to the present
hour, has always been on what is called the conservative side in politics;
and it was eminently so during the troubles preceding the revolutionary
war. The whole story is told in a remark made by a Boston Tory doctor
in those times:
"If Warren were not a Whig," said he, "he might soon be independent
and ride in his chariot."
There were, however, in Boston Whig families enough to give him
plenty of business, and he was for many years their favorite physician.
He attended the family of John Adams, and saved John Quincy, his son,
from losing one of his fore-fingers when it was very badly fractured.
Samuel Adams, who was the prime mover of the Opposition, old
enough to be his father, inspired and consulted him. Gradually, as the
quarrel grew warmer, Dr. Warren was drawn into the councils of the

leading Whigs, and became at last almost wholly a public man.
Without being rash or imprudent, he was one of the first to be ready to
meet force with force, and he was always in favor of the measures
which were boldest and most decisive. At his house Colonel Putnam
was a guest on an interesting occasion, when he was only known for his
exploits in the French war.
"The old hero, Putnam," says a Boston letter of 1774, "arrived in town
on Monday, bringing with him one hundred and thirty sheep from the
little parish of Brooklyn."
It was at Dr. Warren's house that the "old hero" staid, and thither
flocked crowds of people to see him, and talk over the thrilling events
of the time. The sheep which he brought with him were to feed the
people of Boston, whose business was suspended by the closing of the
port.
The presence of the British troops in Boston roused all Warren's
indignation. Overhearing one day some British officers saying that the
Americans would not fight, he said to a friend:
"These fellows say we will not fight. By heavens, I hope I shall die up
to my knees in their blood!"
Soon after, as he was passing the public gallows on the Neck, he
overheard one of a group of officers say in an insulting tone:
"Go on, Warren; you will soon come to the gallows."
The young doctor turned, walked up to the officers, and said to them
quietly:
"Which of you uttered those words."
They passed on without giving any reply. He had not long to wait for a
proof that his countrymen would fight. April nineteenth, 1775, word
was brought to him by a special messenger of the events which had
occurred on the village green at Lexington. He called to his assistant,
told him to take care of his patients, mounted his horse, and rode
toward the scene of action.
"Keep up a brave heart!" he cried to a friend in passing. "They have
begun it. That either party can do. And we will end it. That only one
can do."
Riding fast, he was soon in the thick of the melée, and kept so close to
the point of contact that a British musket ball struck a pin out of his
hair close to one of his ears. Wherever the danger was greatest there

was Warren, now a soldier joining in the fight, now a surgeon binding
up wounds, now a citizen cheering on his fellows. From this day he
made up his mind to perform his part in the coming contest as a soldier,
not as a physician, nor in