Life of George Washington, volume 3 of 5

By Washington Irving

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Life of George Washington, volume 3 of 5

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Life of George Washington, volume 3 of 5

Author: Washington Irving

Release date: January 16, 2026 [eBook #77704]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: G. P. Putnam, 1855

Credits: Richard Tonsing, Emmanuel Ackerman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON, VOLUME 3 OF 5 ***

LIFE

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

[Illustration:

Col. John Trumbull.

(Engraved by the Anastatic process)
]

[Illustration:

From Houdon’s Bust.
]

LIFE
OF
GEORGE WASHINGTON.

WASHINGTON IRVING.

VOL. III.

NEW YORK: GEO. P. PUTNAM.
1860.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856
BY G. P. PUTNAM & CO.,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern
District of New York.

JOHN F. TROW,
Printer, Stereotyper, and Electrotyper,
46, 48 & 50 Greene Street,
Between Grand & Broome, New York.

NOTE TO THE THIRD VOLUME.

When the Author commenced the publication of this work, he informed his
Publishers that he should probably complete it in three volumes. What he
gave as a probability, they understood as a certainty, and worded their
advertisements accordingly. His theme has unexpectedly expanded under
his pen, and he now lays his third volume before the public, with his
task yet unaccomplished. He hopes this may not cause unpleasant
disappointment. To present a familiar and truthful picture of the
Revolution and the personages concerned in it, required much detail and
copious citations, that the scenes might be placed in a proper light,
and the characters introduced might speak for themselves, and have space
in which to play their parts.

The kindness with which the first two volumes have been received, has
encouraged the author to pursue the plan he had adopted, and inspires
the hope that the public good-will which has cheered him through so long
a period of devious authorship, will continue with him to the
approaching close of his career.

SUNNYSIDE, June, 1856.

CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Burke on the State of Affairs in America—New Jersey Roused to
Arms—Washington grants Safe Conduct to Hessian
Convoys—Encampment at Morristown—Putnam at Princeton—His
Stratagem to Conceal the Weakness of his Camp—Exploit of General
Dickinson near Somerset Court House—Washington’s Counter
Proclamation—Prevalence of the Small-pox—Inoculation of the
Army—Contrast of the British and American Commanders and their
Camps, 1

CHAPTER II.
Negotiations for Exchange of Prisoners—Case of Colonel Ethan
Allen—Of General Lee—Correspondence of Washington with Sir
William Howe about Exchanges of Prisoners—Referees
Appointed—Letters of Lee from New York—Case of Colonel
Campbell—Washington’s Advice to Congress on the Subject of
Retaliation—His Correspondence with Lord Howe about the
Treatment of Prisoners—The Horrors of the Jersey Prison-Ship and
the Sugar House, 11

CHAPTER III.
Exertions to Form a New Army—Calls on the Different
States—Insufficiency of the Militia—Washington’s Care for the
Yeomanry—Dangers in the Northern Department—Winter Attack on
Ticonderoga Apprehended—Exertions to Reinforce
Schuyler—Precarious State of Washington’s Army—Conjectures as to
the Designs of the Enemy—Expedition of the British against
Peekskill, 24

CHAPTER IV.
Schuyler’s Affairs in the Northern Department—Misunderstandings
with Congress—Gives offence by a Reproachful Letter—Office of
Adjutant-General offered to Gates—Declined by him—Schuyler
Reprimanded by Congress for his Reproachful Letter—Gates
Appointed to the Command at Ticonderoga—Schuyler considers
himself Virtually Suspended—Takes his Seat as a Delegate to
Congress, and Claims a Court of Inquiry—Has Command at
Philadelphia, 31

CHAPTER V.
Foreign Officers Candidates for Situations in the
Army—Difficulties in Adjusting Questions of
Rank—Ducoudray—Conway—Kosciuszko—Washington’s Guards—Arnold
Omitted in the Army Promotions—Washington takes his part—British
Expedition against Danbury—Destruction of American
Stores—Connecticut Yeomanry in Arms—Skirmish at Ridgefield—Death
of General Wooster—Gallant Services of Arnold—Rewarded by
Congress—Exploit of Colonel Meigs at Sag Harbor, 40

CHAPTER VI.
Schuyler on the Point of Resigning—Committee of Inquiry Report in
his Favor—His Memorial to Congress proves
Satisfactory—Discussions Regarding the Northern Department—Gates
Mistaken as to his Position—He Prompts his Friends in
Congress—His Petulant Letter to Washington—Dignified Reply of
the Latter—Position of Gates Defined—Schuyler Reinstated in
Command of the Department—Gates Appears on the Floor of
Congress—His Proceedings there, 54

CHAPTER VII.
The Highland Passes of the Hudson—George Clinton in Command of the
Forts—His Measures for Defence—Generals Greene and Knox examine
the State of the Forts—Their Report—The General Command of the
Hudson offered to Arnold—Declined by Him—Given to
Putnam—Appointment of Dr. Craik in the Medical
Department—Expedition Planned against Fort Independence—But
Relinquished—Washington Shifts his Camp to Middlebrook—State of
his Army—General Howe Crosses into the Jerseys—Position of the
two Armies at Middlebrook and behind the Raritan—Correspondence
between Washington and Colonel Reed, 64

CHAPTER VIII.
Feigned Movements of Sir William Howe—Baffling Caution of
Washington—Rumored Inroads from the North—Schuyler applies for
Reinforcements—Renewed schemes of Howe to draw Washington from
his Stronghold—Skirmish between Cornwallis and Lord Stirling—The
Enemy Evacuate the Jerseys—Perplexity as to their next
Movement—A Hostile Fleet on Lake Champlain—Burgoyne approaching
Ticonderoga—Speculations of Washington—His Purpose of keeping
Sir William Howe from ascending the Hudson—Orders George Clinton
to call out Militia from Ulster and Orange Counties—Sends
Sullivan towards the Highlands—Moves his own Camp back to
Morristown—Stir among the Shipping—Their Destination surmised to
be Philadelphia—A Dinner at Head-Quarters—Alexander
Hamilton—Graydon’s Rueful Description of the Army—His Character
of Wayne, 76

CHAPTER IX.
British Invasion from Canada—The Plan—Composition of the Invading
Army—Schuyler on the Alert—His Speculations as to the Enemy’s
Designs—Burgoyne on Lake Champlain—His War-Speech to his Indian
Allies—Signs of his Approach descried from
Ticonderoga—Correspondence on the Subject between St. Clair,
Major Livingston, and Schuyler—Burgoyne Intrenches near
Ticonderoga—His Proclamation—Schuyler’s Exertions at Albany to
forward Reinforcements—Hears that Ticonderoga is
Evacuated—Mysterious Disappearance of St. Clair and his
Troops—Amazement and Concern of Washington—Orders Reinforcements
to Schuyler at Fort Edward, and to Putnam at Peekskill—Advances
with his Main Army to the Clove—His Hopeful Spirit manifested, 86

CHAPTER X.
Particulars of the Evacuation—Indian Scouts in the vicinity of the
Fort—Outposts abandoned by St. Clair—Burgoyne secures Mount
Hope—Invests the Fortress—Seizes and Occupies Sugar Hill—The
Forts overlooked and in Imminent Peril—Determination to
Evacuate—Plan of Retreat—Part of the Garrison depart for
Skenesborough in the Flotilla—St. Clair crosses with the rest to
Fort Independence—A Conflagration Reveals his Retreat—The
British Camp aroused—Fraser Pursues St. Clair—Burgoyne with his
Squadron makes after the Flotilla—Part of the Fugitives
overtaken—Flight of the Remainder to Fort Anne—Skirmish of
Colonel Long—Retreat to Fort Edward—St. Clair at
Castleton—Attack of his Rear-Guard—Fall of Colonel
Francis—Desertion of Colonel Hale—St. Clair reaches Fort
Edward—Consternation of the Country—Exultation of the British, 100

CHAPTER XI.
Capture of General Prescott—Proffered in Exchange for
Lee—Reinforcements to Schuyler—Arnold sent to the North—Eastern
Militia to repair to Saratoga—Further Reinforcements—Generals
Lincoln and Arnold recommended for Particular
Services—Washington’s Measures and Suggestions for the Northern
Campaign—British Fleet puts to Sea—Conjectures as to its
Destination—A Feigned Letter—Appearance and Disappearance of the
Fleet—Orders and Counter Orders of Washington—Encamps at
Germantown—Anxiety for the Security of the Highlands—George
Clinton on Guard—Call on Connecticut, 112

CHAPTER XII.
Gates on the Alert for a Command—Schuyler Undermined in
Congress—Put on his Guard—Courts a Scrutiny, but not before an
expected Engagement—Summoned with St. Clair to
Head-Quarters—Gates appointed to the Northern
Department—Washington’s Speculations on the Successes of
Burgoyne—Ill-judged Meddlings of Congress with the
Commissariat—Colonel Trumbull Resigns in consequence, 123

CHAPTER XIII.
Washington’s Perplexities about the British Fleet—Putnam and
Governor Clinton put on the Alert in the Highlands—Morgan and
his Riflemen sent to the North—Washington at Philadelphia—His
first Interview with Lafayette—Intelligence about the
Fleet—Explanations of its Movements—Review of the Army—Lafayette
Mistakes the nature of his Commission—His Alliance with
Washington—March of the Army through Philadelphia—Encampment at
Wilmington, 130

CHAPTER XIV.
Burgoyne at Skenesborough—Prepares to Move towards the
Hudson—Major Skene the Royalist—Slow March to Fort Anne—Schuyler
at Fort Miller—Painted Warriors—Langdale—St. Luc—Honor of the
Tomahawk—Tragical Story of Miss McCrea—Its Results—Burgoyne
Advances to Fort Edward—Schuyler at Stillwater—Joined by
Lincoln—Burgoyne deserted by his Indian Allies, 140

CHAPTER XV.
Difficulties of Burgoyne—Plans an Expedition to Bennington—St.
Leger before Fort Stanwix—General Herkimer at Oriskany—High
Words with his Officers—A Dogged March—An Ambuscade—Battle of
Oriskany—Johnson’s Greens—Death of Herkimer—Spirited Sortie of
Colonel Willett—Sir John Johnson driven to the River—Flight of
the Indians—Sacking of Sir John’s Camp—Colonel Gansevoort
maintains his Post—Colonel Willett sent in quest of Aid—Arrives
at Schuyler’s Camp, 148

CHAPTER XVI.
Schuyler hears of the Affair of Oriskany—Applies for
Reinforcements—His Appeal to the Patriotism of Stark—Schuyler
Superseded—His Conduct thereupon—Relief sent to Fort
Stanwix—Arnold Volunteers to conduct it—Change of
Encampment—Patriotic Determination of Schuyler—Detachment of the
Enemy against Bennington—Germans and their Indian Allies—Baum,
the Hessian Leader—Stark in the Field—Mustering of the Militia—A
Belligerent Parson—Battle of Bennington—Breyman to the
Rescue—Routed—Reception of the News in the Rival
Camps—Washington urges New England to follow up the Blow, 158

CHAPTER XVII.
Stratagem of Arnold to relieve Fort Stanwix—Yan Yost Cuyler—The
Siege Pressed—Indians Intractable—Success of Arnold’s
Stratagem—Harassed Retreat of St. Leger—Moral Effect of the two
Blows given to the Enemy—Brightening Prospects in the American
Camp—Arrival of Gates—Magnanimous Conduct of Schuyler—Poorly
requited by Gates—Correspondence between Gates and Burgoyne
concerning the Murder of Miss McCrea, 171

CHAPTER XVIII.
Landing of Howe’s Army on Elk River—Measures to Check it—Exposed
Situation of Washington in Reconnoitring—Alarm of the
Country—Proclamation of Howe—Arrival of Sullivan—Foreign
Officers in Camp—Deborre—Conway—Fleury—Count Pulaski—First
Appearance in the Army of “Light-Horse Harry” of
Virginia—Washington’s Appeal to the Army—Movements of the Rival
Forces—Battle of the Brandywine—Retreat of the Americans—Halt in
Chester—Scenes in Philadelphia during the Battle—Congress Orders
out Militia—Clothes Washington with Extraordinary Powers—Removes
to Lancaster—Rewards to Foreign Officers, 179

CHAPTER XIX.
General Howe neglects to pursue his Advantage—Washington Retreats
to Germantown—Recrosses the Schuylkill and prepares for another
Action—Prevented by Storms of Rain—Retreats to French
Creek—Wayne detached to Fall on the Enemy’s Rear—His Pickets
Surprised—Massacre of Smallwood’s Men—Manœuvres of Howe on the
Schuylkill—Washington sends for Reinforcements—Howe marches into
Philadelphia, 197

CHAPTER XX.
Dubious Position of Burgoyne—Collects his Forces—Ladies of
Distinction in his Camp—Lady Harriet Ackland—The Baroness de
Riedesel—American Army reinforced—Silent Movements of
Burgoyne—Watched from the Summit of the Hills—His March along
the Hudson—Position of the two Camps—Battle on the 19th
Sept.—Burgoyne Encamps nearer—Fortifies his Camp—Promised
Co-operation by Sir Henry Clinton—Determines to await it—Quarrel
between Gates and Arnold—Arnold deprived of Command—Burgoyne
waits for Co-operation, 205

CHAPTER XXI.
Preparations of Sir Henry Clinton—State of the Highland
Defences—Putnam Alarmed—Advance of the Armament up the
Hudson—Plan of Sir Henry Clinton—Peekskill Threatened—Putnam
Deceived—Secret March of the Enemy through the Mountains—Forts
Montgomery and Clinton Overpowered—Narrow Escape of the
Commanders—Conflagration and Explosion of the American
Frigates—Rallying Efforts of Putnam and Governor Clinton—The Spy
and the Silver Bullet—Esopus Burnt—Ravaging Progress of the
Enemy up the Hudson, 221

CHAPTER XXII.
Scarcity in the British Camp—Gates bides his Time—Foraging
Movement of Burgoyne—Battle of the 7th October—Rout of the
British and Hessians—Situation of the Baroness Riedesel and Lady
Harriet Ackland during the Battle—Death of Gen. Fraser—His
Funeral—Night Retreat of the British—Expedition of Lady Harriet
Ackland—Desperate Situation of Burgoyne at
Saratoga—Capitulation—Surrender—Conduct of the American
Troops—Scenes in the Camp—Gallant Courtesy of Schuyler to the
Baroness Riedesel—His Magnanimous Conduct towards
Burgoyne—Return of the British Ships down the Hudson, 234

CHAPTER XXIII.
Washington Advances to Skippack Creek—The British Fleet in the
Delaware—Forts and Obstructions in the River—Washington
Meditates an Attack on the British Camp—Battle of Germantown, 258

CHAPTER XXIV.
Washington at White Marsh—Measures to cut off the Enemy’s
Supplies—The Forts on the Delaware Reinforced—Colonel Greene of
Rhode Island at Fort Mercer—Attack and Defence of that
Fort—Death of Count Donop, 269

CHAPTER XXV.
De Kalb Commissioned Major-General—Pretensions of Conway—Thwarted
by Washington—Conway Cabal—Gates remiss in
Correspondence—Dilatory in Forwarding Troops—Mission of Hamilton
to Gates—Wilkinson Bearer of Despatches to Congress—A Tardy
Traveller—His Reward—Conway Correspondence Detected—Washington’s
Apology for his Army, 271

CHAPTER XXVI.
Further Hostilities on the Delaware—Fort Mifflin Attacked—Bravely
Defended—Reduced—Mission of Hamilton to Gates—Visits the Camps
of Governor Clinton and Putnam on the Hudson—Putnam on his
Hobby-Horse—Difficulties in procuring Reinforcements—Intrigues
of the Cabal—Letters of Lovell and Mifflin to Gates—The Works at
Red Rank Destroyed—The Enemy in Possession of the Delaware, 284

CHAPTER XXVII.
Question of an Attack on Philadelphia—General Reed at
Head-Quarters—Enemy’s Works Reconnoitred—Opinions in a Council
of War—Exploit of Lafayette—Receives Command of a
Division—Modification of the Board of War—Gates to
Preside—Letter of Lovell—Sally Forth of General Howe—Evolutions
and Skirmishes—Conway Inspector-general—Consultation about
Winter-Quarters—Dreary March to Valley
Forge—Hutting—Washington’s Vindicatory Letters—Retrospect of the
Year, 296

CHAPTER XXVIII.
Gates on the Ascendant—The Conway Letter—Suspicions—Consequent
Correspondence between Gates and Washington—Warning Letter from
Dr. Craik—Anonymous Letters—Projected Expedition to
Canada—Lafayette, Gates, and the Board of War, 315

CHAPTER XXIX.
Gates undertakes to explain the Conway Correspondence—Washington’s
Searching Analysis of the Explanation—Close of the
Correspondence—Spurious Letters Published—Lafayette and the
Canada Expedition—His Perplexities—Counsels of Washington, 326

CHAPTER XXX.
More Trouble about the Conway Letter—Correspondence between Lord
Stirling and Wilkinson—Wilkinson’s Honor Wounded—His Passage at
Arms with General Gates—His Seat at the Board of War
uncomfortable—Determines that Lord Stirling shall Bleed—His
Wounded Honor Healed—His Interviews with Washington—Sees the
Correspondence of Gates—Denounces Gates and gives up the
Secretaryship—Is thrown out of Employ—Closing Remarks on the
Conway Cabal, 337

CHAPTER XXXI.
Committee of Arrangement—Reforms in the Army—Scarcity in the
Camp—The Enemy revel in Philadelphia—Attempt to Surprise
Light-Horse Harry—His Gallant Defence—Praised by
Washington—Promoted—Letter from General Lee—Burgoyne returns to
England—Mrs. Washington at Valley Forge—Bryan Fairfax visits the
Camp—Arrival of the Baron Steuben—His Character—Disciplines the
Army—Greene made Quartermaster-general, 347

CHAPTER XXXII.
Fortifications of the Hudson—Project to Surprise Sir Henry
Clinton—General Howe Forages the Jerseys—Ships and Stores Burnt
at Bordentown—Plans for the Next Campaign—Gates and Mifflin
under Washington’s Command—Downfall of Conway—Lord North’s
Conciliatory Bills—Sent to Washington by Governor Tryon—Resolves
of Congress—Letter of Washington to Tryon—Rejoicing at Valley
Forge—The Mischianza, 362

CHAPTER XXXIII.
Lafayette Detached to keep Watch on Philadelphia—His Position at
Barren Hill—Plan of Sir Henry to Entrap him—Washington Alarmed
for his Safety—Stratagem of the Marquis—Exchange of General Lee
and Colonel Ethan Allen—Allen at Valley Forge—Washington’s
Opinion of him—Preparations in Philadelphia to
Evacuate—Washington’s Measures in consequence—Arrival of
Commissioners from England—Their Disappointment—Their
Proceedings—Their Failure—Their Manifesto, 375

CHAPTER XXXIV.
Preparations to Evacuate Philadelphia—Washington calls a Council
of War—Lee Opposed to any Attack—Philadelphia
Evacuated—Movements in pursuit of Sir Henry Clinton—Another
Council of War—Conflict of Opinions—Contradictory Conduct of Lee
respecting the Command—The Battle of Monmouth Court
House—Subsequent March of the Armies, 385

CHAPTER XXXV.
Correspondence between Lee and Washington relative to the Affair
of Monmouth—Lee asks a Trial by Court-Martial—The Verdict—Lee’s
Subsequent History, 404

CHAPTER XXXVI.
Arrival of a French Fleet—Correspondence of Washington and the
Count D’Estaing—Plans of the Count—Perturbation at New
York—Excitement in the French Fleet—Expedition against Rhode
Island—Operations by Sea and Land—Failure of the
Expedition—Irritation between the Allied Forces—Considerate
Letter of Washington to the Count D’Estaing, 415

CHAPTER XXXVII.
Indian Warfare—Desolation of the Valley of Wyoming—Movements in
New York—Counter Movements of Washington—Foraging Parties of the
Enemy—Baylor’s Dragoons Massacred at Old Tappan—British
Expedition against Little Egg Harbor—Massacre of Pulaski’s
Infantry—Retaliation on Donop’s Rangers—Arrival of Admiral
Byron—Endeavors to Entrap D’Estaing, but is
Disappointed—Expedition against St. Lucia—Expedition against
Georgia—Capture of Savannah—Georgia Subdued—General Lincoln sent
to Command in the South, 432

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Winter Cantonments of the American Army—Washington at
Middlebrook—Plan of Alarm Signals for the Jerseys—Lafayette’s
Project for an Invasion of Canada—Favored by Congress—Condemned
by Washington—Relinquished—Washington in Philadelphia—The War
Spirit Declining—Dissensions in Congress—Sectional
Feelings—Patriotic Appeals of Washington—Plans for the Next
Campaign—Indian Atrocities to be Repressed—Avenging Expedition
set on foot—Discontents of the Jersey Troops—Appeased by the
Interference of Washington—Successful Campaign against the
Indians, 445

CHAPTER XXXIX.
Predatory Warfare of the Enemy—Ravages in the
Chesapeake—Hostilities on the Hudson—Verplanck’s Point and Stony
Point Taken—Capture of New Haven—Fairfield and Norwalk
Destroyed—Washington Plans a Counter Stroke—Storming of Stony
Point—Generous Letter of Lee, 458

CHAPTER XL.
Expedition against Penobscot—Night Surprisal of Paulus
Hook—Washington Fortifies West Point—His Style of Living
there—Table at Head-Quarters—Sir Henry Clinton
Reinforced—Arrival of D’Estaing on the Coast of Georgia—Plans in
Consequence—The French Minister at Washington’s Highland
Camp—Letter to Lafayette—D’Estaing Co-operates with
Lincoln—Repulsed at Savannah—Washington Reinforces Lincoln—Goes
into Winter-Quarters—Sir Henry Clinton sends an Expedition to
the South, 471

LIFE OF WASHINGTON.

CHAPTER I.

BURKE ON THE STATE OF AFFAIRS IN AMERICA—NEW JERSEY ROUSED TO
ARMS—WASHINGTON GRANTS SAFE CONDUCT TO HESSIAN CONVOYS—ENCAMPMENT AT
MORRISTOWN—PUTNAM AT PRINCETON—HIS STRATAGEM TO CONCEAL THE WEAKNESS
OF HIS CAMP—EXPLOIT OF GENERAL DICKINSON NEAR SOMERSET COURT
HOUSE—WASHINGTON’S COUNTER PROCLAMATION—PREVALENCE OF THE
SMALL-POX—INOCULATION OF THE ARMY—CONTRAST OF THE BRITISH AND
AMERICAN COMMANDERS AND THEIR CAMPS.

The news of Washington’s recrossing the Delaware, and of his subsequent
achievements in the Jerseys, had not reached London on the 9th of
January. “The affairs of America seem to be drawing to a crisis,” writes
Edmund Burke. “The Howes are at this time in possession of, or able to
awe the whole middle coast of America, from Delaware to the western
boundary of Massachusetts Bay; the naval barrier on the side of Canada
is broken. A great tract is open for the supply of the troops; the river
Hudson opens a way into the heart of the provinces, and nothing can, in
all probability, prevent an early and offensive campaign. What the
Americans have done is, in their circumstances, truly astonishing; it is
indeed infinitely more than I expected from them. But, having done so
much for some short time, I began to entertain an opinion that they
might do more. It is now, however, evident that they cannot look
standing armies in the face. They are inferior in every thing—even in
numbers. There seem by the best accounts not to be above ten or twelve
thousand men at most in their grand army. The rest are militia, and not
wonderfully well composed or disciplined. They decline a general
engagement; prudently enough, if their object had been to make the war
attend upon a treaty of good terms of subjection; but when they look
further, this will not do. An army that is obliged at all times, and in
all situations, to decline an engagement, may delay their ruin, but can
never defend their country.”[1]

At the time when this was written, the Howes had learnt to their
mortification, that “the mere running through a province, is not
subduing it.” The British commanders had been outgeneralled, attacked
and defeated. They had nearly been driven out of the Jerseys, and were
now hemmed in and held in check by Washington and his handful of men
castled among the heights of Morristown. So far from holding possession
of the territory they had so recently overrun, they were fain to ask
safe conduct across it for a convoy to their soldiers captured in
battle. It must have been a severe trial to the pride of Cornwallis,
when he had to inquire by letter of Washington, whether money and stores
could be sent to the Hessians captured at Trenton, and a surgeon and
medicines to the wounded at Princeton; and Washington’s reply must have
conveyed a reproof still more mortifying: No molestation, he assured his
lordship, would be offered to the convoy by any part of the regular army
under his command; but “_he could not answer for the militia, who were
resorting to arms in most parts of the State, and were excessively
exasperated at the treatment they had met with from both Hessian and
British troops_.”

In fact, the conduct of the enemy had roused the whole country against
them. The proclamations and printed protections of the British
commanders, on the faith of which the inhabitants in general had staid
at home, and forbore to take up arms, had proved of no avail. The
Hessians could not or would not understand them, but plundered friend
and foe alike.[2] The British soldiery often followed their example, and
the plunderings of both were at times attended by those brutal outrages
on the weaker sex, which inflame the dullest spirits to revenge. The
whole State was thus roused against its invaders. In Washington’s
retreat of more than a hundred miles through the Jerseys, he had never
been joined by more than one hundred of its inhabitants; now sufferers
of both parties rose as one man to avenge their personal injuries. The
late quiet yeomanry armed themselves, and scoured the country in small
parties to seize on stragglers, and the militia began to signalize
themselves in voluntary skirmishes with regular troops.

In effect, Washington ordered a safe conduct to be given to the Hessian
baggage as far as Philadelphia, and to the surgeon and medicines to
Princeton, and permitted a Hessian sergeant and twelve men, unarmed, to
attend the baggage until it was delivered to their countrymen.

Morristown, where the main army was encamped, had not been chosen by
Washington as a permanent post, but merely as a halting place, where his
troops might repose after their excessive fatigues and their sufferings
from the inclement season. Further considerations persuaded him that it
was well situated for the system of petty warfare which he meditated,
and induced him to remain there. It was protected by forests and rugged
heights. All approach from the seaboard was rendered difficult and
dangerous to a hostile force by a chain of sharp hills, extending from
Pluckamin, by Boundbrook and Springfield, to the vicinity of the Passaic
River, while various defiles in the rear afforded safer retreats into a
fertile and well peopled region.[3] It was nearly equidistant from
Amboy, Newark, and Brunswick, the principal posts of the enemy; so that
any movement made from them could be met by a counter movement on his
part; while the forays and skirmishes by which he might harass them,
would school and season his own troops. He had three faithful generals
with him: Greene, his reliance on all occasions; swarthy Sullivan, whose
excitable temper and quick sensibilities he had sometimes to keep in
check by friendly counsels and rebukes, but who was a good officer, and
loyally attached to him; and brave, genial, generous Knox, never so
happy as when by his side. He had lately been advanced to the rank of
brigadier at his recommendation, and commanded the artillery.

Washington’s military family at this time was composed of his
aides-de-camp, Colonels Meade and Tench Tilghman of Philadelphia;
gentlemen of gallant spirit, amiable tempers and cultivated manners; and
his secretary, Colonel Robert H. Harrison of Maryland; the “old
secretary,” as he was familiarly called among his associates, and by
whom he was described as “one in whom every man had confidence, and by
whom no man was deceived.”

Washington’s head-quarters at first were in what was called the
Freemason’s Tavern, on the north side of the village green. His troops
were encamped about the vicinity of the village, at first in tents,
until they could build log huts for shelter against the winter’s cold.
The main encampment was near Bottle Hill, in a sheltered valley which
was thickly wooded, and had abundant springs. It extended south-easterly
from Morristown; and was called the Lowantica Valley, from the Indian
name of a beautiful limpid brook which ran through it, and lost itself
in a great swamp.[4]

The enemy being now concentrated at New Brunswick and Amboy, General
Putnam was ordered by Washington to move from Crosswicks to Princeton,
with the troops under his command. He was instructed to draw his forage
as much as possible from the neighborhood of Brunswick, about eighteen
miles off, thereby contributing to distress the enemy; to have good
scouting parties continually on the look-out; to keep nothing with him
but what could be moved off at a moment’s warning, and, if compelled to
leave Princeton, to retreat towards the mountains, so as to form a
junction with the forces at Morristown.

Putnam had with him but a few hundred men. “You will give out your
strength to be twice as great as it is,” writes Washington; a common
expedient with him in those times of scanty means. Putnam acted up to
the advice. A British officer, Captain Macpherson, was lying desperately
wounded at Princeton, and Putnam, in the kindness of his heart, was
induced to send in a flag to Brunswick in quest of a friend and military
comrade of the dying man, to attend him in his last moments and make his
will. To prevent the weakness of the garrison from being discovered, the
visitor was brought in after dark. Lights gleamed in all the college
windows, and in the vacant houses about the town; the handful of troops
capable of duty were marched hither and thither and backward and
forward, and paraded about to such effect, that the visitor on his
return to the British camp, reported the force under the old general to
be at least five thousand strong.[5]

Cantonments were gradually formed between Princeton and the Highlands of
the Hudson, which made the left flank of Washington’s position, and
where General Heath had command. General Philemon Dickinson, who
commanded the New Jersey militia, was stationed on the west side of
Millstone River, near Somerset court house, one of the nearest posts to
the enemy’s camp at Brunswick. A British foraging party, of five or six
hundred strong, sent out by Cornwallis with forty waggons and upward of
a hundred draught horses, mostly of the English breed, having collected
sheep and cattle about the country, were sacking a mill on the opposite
side of the river, where a large quantity of flour was deposited. While
thus employed, Dickinson set upon them with a force equal in number, but
composed of raw militia and fifty Philadelphia riflemen. He dashed
through the river, waist deep, with his men, and charged the enemy so
suddenly and vigorously, that, though supported by three field-pieces,
they gave way, left their convoy, and retreated so precipitately, that
he made only nine prisoners. A number of killed and wounded were carried
off by the fugitives on light waggons.[6]

These exploits of the militia were noticed with high encomiums by
Washington, while at the same time he was rigid in prohibiting and
punishing the excesses into which men are apt to run when suddenly
clothed with military power. Such is the spirit of a general order
issued at this time. “The general prohibits, in both the militia and
Continental troops, the infamous practice of plundering the inhabitants
under the specious pretence of their being tories. * * * It is our
business to give protection and support to the poor distressed
inhabitants, not to multiply and increase their calamities.” After the
publication of this order, all excesses of this kind were to be punished
in the severest manner.

To counteract the proclamation of the British commissioners, promising
amnesty to all in rebellion who should, in a given time, return to their
allegiance, Washington now issued a counter proclamation (Jan. 25th),
commanding every person who had subscribed a declaration of fidelity to
Great Britain, or taken an oath of allegiance, to repair within thirty
days to head-quarters, or the quarters of the nearest general officer of
the Continental army or of the militia, and there take the oath of
allegiance to the United States of America, and give up any protection,
certificate, or passport he might have received from the enemy; at the
same time granting full liberty to all such as preferred the interest
and protection of Great Britain to the freedom and happiness of their
country, forthwith to withdraw themselves and families within the
enemy’s lines. All who should neglect or refuse to comply with this
order were to be considered adherents to the crown, and treated as
common enemies.

This measure met with objections at the time, some of the timid or
over-cautious thinking it inexpedient; others, jealous of the
extraordinary powers vested in Washington, questioning whether he had
not transcended these powers and exercised a degree of despotism.

The small-pox, which had been fatally prevalent in the preceding year,
had again broken out, and Washington feared it might spread through the
whole army. He took advantage of the interval of comparative quiet to
have his troops inoculated. Houses were set apart in various places as
hospitals for inoculation, and a church was appropriated for the use of
those who had taken the malady in the natural way. Among these the
ravages were frightful. The traditions of the place and neighborhood,
give lamentable pictures of the distress caused by this loathsome
disease in the camp and in the villages, wherever it had not been
parried by inoculation.

“Washington,” we are told, “was not an unmoved spectator of the griefs
around him, and might be seen in Hanover and in Lowantica Valley,
cheering the faith and inspiring the courage of his suffering men.”[7]
It was this paternal care and sympathy which attached his troops
personally to him. They saw that he regarded them, not with the eye of a
general, but of a patriot, whose heart yearned towards them as
countrymen suffering in one common cause.

A striking contrast was offered throughout the winter and spring,
between the rival commanders, Howe at New York, and Washington at
Morristown. Howe was a soldier by profession. War, with him, was a
career. The camp was, for the time, country and home. Easy and indolent
by nature, of convivial and luxurious habits, and somewhat addicted to
gaming, he found himself in good quarters at New York, and was in no
hurry to leave them. The tories rallied around him. The British
merchants residing there regarded him with profound devotion. His
officers, too, many of them young men of rank and fortune, gave a gayety
and brilliancy to the place; and the wealthy royalists forgot in a round
of dinners, balls and assemblies, the hysterical alarms they had once
experienced under the military sway of Lee.

Washington, on the contrary, was a patriot soldier, grave, earnest,
thoughtful, self-sacrificing. War, to him, was a painful remedy, hateful
in itself, but adopted for a great national good. To the prosecution of
it all his pleasures, his comforts, his natural inclinations and private
interests were sacrificed; and his chosen officers were earnest and
anxious like himself, with their whole thoughts directed to the success
of the magnanimous struggle in which they were engaged.

So, too, the armies were contrasted. The British troops, many of them,
perchance, slightly metamorphosed from vagabonds into soldiers, all mere
men of the sword, were well clad, well housed, and surrounded by all the
conveniences of a thoroughly appointed army with a “rebel country” to
forage. The American troops for the most part were mere yeomanry, taken
from their rural homes; ill sheltered, ill clad, ill fed, and ill paid,
with nothing to reconcile them to their hardships but love for the soil
they were defending, and the inspiring thought that it was _their
country_. Washington, with paternal care, endeavored to protect them
from the depraving influences of the camp. “Let vice and immorality of
every kind be discouraged as much as possible in your brigade,” writes
he in a circular to his brigadier-generals; “and, as a chaplain is
allowed to each regiment, see that the men regularly attend divine
worship. Gaming of every kind is expressly forbidden, as being the
foundation of evil, and the cause of many a brave and gallant officer’s
ruin.”

CHAPTER II.

NEGOTIATIONS FOR EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS—CASE OF COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN—OF
GENERAL LEE—CORRESPONDENCE OF WASHINGTON WITH SIR WILLIAM HOWE ABOUT
EXCHANGES OF PRISONERS—REFEREES APPOINTED—LETTERS OF LEE FROM NEW
YORK—CASE OF COLONEL CAMPBELL—WASHINGTON’S ADVICE TO CONGRESS ON THE
SUBJECT OF RETALIATION—HIS CORRESPONDENCE WITH LORD HOWE ABOUT THE
TREATMENT OF PRISONERS—THE HORRORS OF THE JERSEY PRISON-SHIP AND THE
SUGAR HOUSE.

A cartel for the exchange of prisoners had been a subject of negotiation
previous to the affair of Trenton, without being adjusted. The British
commanders were slow to recognize the claims to equality of those they
considered rebels; Washington was tenacious in holding them up as
patriots ennobled by their cause.

Among the cases which came up for attention was that of Ethan Allen, the
brave, but eccentric captor of Ticonderoga. His daring attempts in the
“path of renown” had cost him a world of hardships. Thrown into irons as
a felon; threatened with a halter; carried to England to be tried for
treason; confined in Pendennis Castle; retransported to Halifax, and now
a prisoner in New York. “I have suffered every thing short of death,”
writes he to the Assembly of his native State, Connecticut. He had,
however, recovered health and suppleness of limb, and with them all his
swelling spirit and swelling rhetoric. “I am fired,” writes he, “with
adequate indignation to revenge both my own and my country’s wrongs. I
am experimentally certain I have fortitude sufficient to face the
invaders of America in the place of danger, spread with all the horrors
of war.” And he concludes with one of his magniloquent, but really
sincere expressions of patriotism: “Provided you can hit upon some
measure to procure my liberty, I will appropriate my remaining days, and
freely hazard my life in the service of the colony, and maintaining the
American Empire. I thought to have enrolled my name in the list of
illustrious American heroes, but was nipped in the bud!”[8]

Honest Ethan Allen! his name will ever stand enrolled on that list; not
illustrious, perhaps, but eminently popular.

His appeal to his native State had produced an appeal to Congress, and
Washington had been instructed, considering his long imprisonment, to
urge his exchange. This had scarce been urged, when tidings of the
capture of General Lee presented a case of still greater importance to
be provided for. “I feel much for his misfortune,” writes Washington,
“and am sensible that in his captivity our country has lost a warm
friend and an able officer.” By direction of Congress, he had sent in a
flag to inquire about Lee’s treatment, and to convey him a sum of money.
This was just previous to the second crossing of the Delaware.

Lee was now reported to be in rigorous confinement in New York, and
treated with harshness and indignity. The British professed to consider
him a deserter, he having been a lieutenant-colonel in their service,
although he alleged that he had resigned his commission before joining
the American army Two letters which he addressed to General Howe, were
returned to him unopened, enclosed in a cover directed to
_Lieutenant-colonel Lee_.

On the 13th of January, Washington addressed the following letter to Sir
William Howe. “I am directed by Congress to propose an exchange of five
of the Hessian field-officers taken at Trenton for Major-general Lee; or
if this proposal should not be accepted, to demand his liberty upon
parole, within certain bounds, as has ever been granted to your officers
in our custody. I am informed, upon good authority, that your reason for
keeping him hitherto in stricter confinement than usual is, that you do
not look upon him in the light of a common prisoner of war, but as a
deserter from the British service, as his resignation has never been
accepted, and that you intend to try him as such by a court-martial. I
will not undertake to determine how far this doctrine may be justifiable
among yourselves, but I must give you warning that Major-general Lee is
looked upon as an officer belonging to, and under the protection of the
United Independent States of America, and that any violence you may
commit upon his life and liberty, will be severely retaliated upon the
lives or liberties of the British officers, or those of their foreign
allies in our hands.”

In this letter he likewise adverted to the treatment of American
prisoners in New York; several who had recently been released, having
given the most shocking account of the barbarities they had experienced,
“which their miserable, emaciated countenances confirmed.”—“I would
beg,” added he, “that some certain rule of conduct towards prisoners may
be settled; and, if you are determined to make captivity as distressing
as possible, let me know it, that we may be upon equal terms, for your
conduct shall regulate mine.”

Sir William, in reply, proposed to send an officer of rank to
Washington, to confer upon a mode of exchange and subsistence of
prisoners. “This expedient,” observes he, “appearing to me effectual for
settling all differences, will, I hope, be the means of preventing a
repetition of the improper terms in which your letter is expressed and
founded on the grossest misrepresentations. I shall not make any further
comment upon it, than to assure you, that your threats of retaliating
upon the innocent such punishment as may be decreed in the circumstances
of Mr. Lee by the laws of his country, will not divert me from my duty
in any respect; at the same time, you may rest satisfied that the
proceedings against him will not be precipitated; and I trust that, in
this, or in any other event in the course of my command, you will not
have just cause to accuse me of inhumanity, prejudice, or passion.”

Sir William, in truth, was greatly perplexed with respect to Lee, and
had written to England to Lord George Germaine for instructions in the
case. “General Lee,” writes he, “being considered in the light of a
deserter, is kept a close prisoner; but I do not bring him to trial, as
a doubt has arisen, whether, by a public resignation of his half pay
prior to his entry into the rebel army, he was amenable to the military
law as a deserter.”

The proposal of Sir William, that all disputed points relative to the
exchange and subsistence of prisoners, should be adjusted by referees,
led to the appointment of two officers for the purpose; Colonel Walcott
by General Howe, and Colonel Harrison, “the old secretary,” by
Washington. In the contemplated exchanges was that of one of the Hessian
field-officers for Colonel Ethan Allen.

The haughty spirit of Lee had experienced a severe humiliation in the
late catastrophe; his pungent and caustic humor is at an end. In a
letter addressed shortly afterwards to Washington, and enclosing one to
Congress which Lord and General Howe had permitted him to send, he
writes, “as the contents are of the last importance to me, and perhaps
not less so to the community, I most earnestly entreat, my dear general,
that you will despatch it immediately, and order the Congress to be as
expeditious as possible.”

The letter contained a request that two or three gentlemen might be sent
immediately to New York, to whom he would communicate what he conceived
to be of the greatest importance. “If my own interests were alone at
stake,” writes he, “I flatter myself that the Congress would not
hesitate a single instant in acquiescing in my request; but this is far
from the case; the interests of the public are equally concerned. * *
Lord and General Howe will grant a safe conduct to the gentlemen
deputed.”

The letter having been read in Congress, Washington was directed to
inform General Lee that they were pursuing and would continue to pursue
every means in their power to provide for his personal safety, and to
obtain his liberty; but that they considered it improper to send any of
their body to communicate with him, and could not perceive how it would
tend to his advantage or the interest of the public.

Lee repeated his request, but with no better success. He felt this
refusal deeply; as a brief, sad note to Washington indicates.

“It is a most unfortunate circumstance for myself, and I think not
less so for the public, that Congress have not thought proper to
comply with my request. It could not possibly have been attended with
any ill consequences, and might with good ones. At least it was an
indulgence which I thought my situation entitled me to. But I am
unfortunate in every thing, and this stroke is the severest I have yet
experienced. God send you a different fate. Adieu, my dear general.

“Yours most truly and affectionately,

“CHARLES LEE.”

How different from the humorous, satirical, self-confident tone of his
former letters. Yet Lee’s actual treatment was not so harsh as had been
represented. He was in close confinement, it is true; but three rooms
had been fitted up for his reception in the Old City Hall of New York,
having nothing of the look of a prison excepting that they were secured
by bolts and bars.

Congress, in the mean time, had resorted to their threatened measure of
retaliation. On the 20th of February, they had resolved that the Board
of War be directed immediately to order the five Hessian field-officers
and Lieutenant-colonel Campbell into safe and close custody, “it being
the unalterable resolution of Congress to retaliate on them the same
punishment as may be inflicted on the person of General Lee.”

The Colonel Campbell here mentioned had commanded one of General
Fraser’s battalions of Highlanders, and had been captured on board of a
transport in Nantasket road, in the preceding summer. He was a member of
Parliament, and a gentleman of fortune. Retaliation was carried to
excess in regard to him, for he was thrown into the common jail at
Concord in Massachusetts.

From his prison he made an appeal to Washington, which at once touched
his quick sense of justice. He immediately wrote to the council of
Massachusetts Bay, quoting the words of the resolution of Congress. “By
this you will observe,” adds he, “that _exactly the same treatment_ is
to be shown to Colonel Campbell and the Hessian officers, that General
Howe shows to General Lee, and as he is only confined to a commodious
house with genteel accommodations, we have no right or reason to be more
severe on Colonel Campbell, who I would wish should upon the receipt of
this be removed from his present situation, and be put into a house
where he may live comfortably.”

In a letter to the President of Congress on the following day, he gives
his moderating counsels on the whole subject of retaliation. “Though I
sincerely commiserate,” writes he, “the misfortunes of General Lee, and
feel much for his present unhappy situation, yet with all possible
deference to the opinion of Congress, I fear that these resolutions will
not have the desired effect, are founded on impolicy, and will, if
adhered to, produce consequences of an extensive and melancholy
nature.” * * *

“The balance of prisoners is greatly against us, and a general regard to
the happiness of the whole should mark our conduct. Can we imagine that
our enemies will not mete the same punishments, the same indignities,
the same cruelties, to those belonging to us, in their possession, that
we impose on theirs in our power? Why should we suppose them to possess
more humanity than we have ourselves? Or why should an ineffectual
attempt to relieve the distresses of one brave, unfortunate man, involve
many more in the same calamities? * * * Suppose,” continues he, “the
treatment prescribed for the Hessians should be pursued, will it not
establish what the enemy have been aiming to effect by every artifice
and the grossest misrepresentations, I mean an opinion of our enmity
towards them, and of the cruel treatment they experience when they fall
into our hands, a prejudice which we on our part have heretofore thought
it politic to suppress, and to root out by every act of lenity and of
kindness?”

“Many more objections,” added he, “might be subjoined, were they
material. I shall only observe, that the present state of the army, if
it deserves that name, will not authorize the language of retaliation,
or the style of menace. This will be conceded by all who know that the
whole of our force is weak and trifling, and composed of militia (very
few regular troops excepted) whose service is on the eve of expiring.”

In a letter to Mr. Robert Morris also, he writes: “I wish, with all my
heart, that Congress had gratified General Lee in his request. If not
too late I wish they would do it still. I can see no possible evil that
can result from it; some good, I think, might. The request to see a
gentleman or two came from the _general_, not from the commissioners;
there could have been no harm, therefore, in hearing what _he_ had to
say on _any_ subject, especially as he had declared that his own
personal interest was deeply concerned. The resolve to put in close
confinement Lieutenant-colonel Campbell and the Hessian field-officers,
in order to retaliate upon them General Lee’s punishment, is, in my
opinion, injurious in every point of view, and must have been entered
into without due attention to the consequences. * * * * * If the resolve
of Congress respecting General Lee strikes you in the same point of view
it has done me, I could wish you would signify as much to that body as I
really think it fraught with every evil.”

Washington was not always successful in instilling his wise moderation
into public councils. Congress adhered to their vindictive policy,
merely directing that no other hardships should be inflicted on the
captive officers, than such confinement as was necessary to carry their
resolve into effect. As to their refusal to grant the request of Lee,
Robert Morris surmised they were fearful of the injurious effect that
might be produced in the court of France, should it be reported that
members of Congress visited General Lee by permission of the British
commissioners. There were other circumstances beside the treatment of
General Lee, to produce this indignant sensibility on the part of
Congress. Accounts were rife at this juncture, of the cruelties and
indignities almost invariably experienced by American prisoners at New
York; and an active correspondence on the subject was going on between
Washington and the British commanders, at the same time with that
regarding General Lee.

The captive Americans who had been in the naval service were said to be
confined, officers and men, in prison-ships, which, from their loathsome
condition, and the horrors and sufferings of all kinds experienced on
board of them, had acquired the appellation of _floating hells_. Those
who had been in the land service, were crowded into jails and dungeons
like the vilest malefactors; and were represented as pining in cold, in
filth, in hunger and nakedness.

“Our poor devoted soldiers,” writes an eye-witness, “were scantily
supplied with provisions of bad quality, wretchedly clothed, and
destitute of sufficient fuel, if indeed they had any. Disease was the
inevitable consequence, and their prisons soon became hospitals. A fatal
malady was generated, and the mortality, to every heart not steeled by
the spirit of party, was truly deplorable.”[8] According to popular
account, the prisoners confined on shipboard, and on shore, were
perishing by hundreds.

A statement made by a Captain Gamble, recently confined on board of a
prison-ship, had especially roused the ire of Congress, and by their
directions had produced a letter from Washington to Lord Howe. “I am
sorry,” writes he, “that I am under the disagreeable necessity of
troubling your lordship with a letter, almost wholly on the subject of
the cruel treatment which our officers and men in the naval department,
who are unhappy enough to fall into your hands, receive on board the
prison-ships in the harbor of New York.” After specifying the case of
Captain Gamble, and adding a few particulars, he proceeds: “From the
opinion I have ever been taught to entertain of your lordship’s
humanity, I will not suppose that you are privy to proceedings of so
cruel and unjustifiable a nature; and I hope, that, upon making the
proper inquiry, you will have the matter so regulated, that the unhappy
persons whose lot is captivity, may not in future have the miseries of
cold, disease, and famine, added to their other misfortunes. You may
call us rebels, and say that we deserve no better treatment; but
remember, my lord, that, supposing us rebels, we still have feelings as
keen and sensible as loyalists, and will, if forced to it, most
assuredly retaliate upon those upon whom we look as the unjust invaders
of our rights, liberties and properties. I should not have said thus
much, but my injured countrymen have long called upon me to endeavor to
obtain a redress of their grievances, and I should think myself as
culpable as those who inflict such severities upon them, were I to
continue silent,” &c.

Lord Howe, in reply (Jan. 17), expressed himself surprised at the matter
and language of Washington’s letter, “so different from the liberal vein
of sentiment he had been habituated to expect on every occasion of
personal intercourse or correspondence with him.” He was surprised, too,
that “the idle and unnatural report” of Captain Gamble, respecting the
dead and dying, and the neglect of precautions against infection, should
meet with any credit. “Attention to preserve the lives of these men,”
writes he, “whom we esteem the misled subjects of the king, is a duty as
binding on us, where we are able from circumstances to execute it with
effect, as any you can plead for the interest you profess in their
welfare.”

He denied that prisoners were ill treated in his particular department
(the naval). They had been allowed the general liberty of the
prison-ship, until a successful attempt of some to escape, had rendered
it necessary to restrain the rest within such limits as left the
commanding parts of the ship in possession of the guard. They had the
same provisions in quality and quantity that were furnished to the
seamen of his own ship. The want of cleanliness was the result of their
own indolence and neglect. In regard to health, they had the constant
attendance of an American surgeon, a fellow-prisoner; who was furnished
with medicines from the king’s stores; and the visits of the physician
of the fleet.

“As I abhor every imputation of wanton cruelty in multiplying the
miseries of the wretched,” observes his lordship, “of treating them with
needless severity, I have taken the trouble to state these several
facts.”

In regard to the hint at retaliation, he leaves it to Washington to act
therein as he should think fit; but adds he grandly, “the innocent at my
disposal will not have any severities to apprehend from me on that
account.”

We have quoted this correspondence the more freely, because it is on a
subject deeply worn into the American mind; and about which we have
heard too many particulars, from childhood upwards, from persons of
unquestionable veracity, who suffered in the cause, to permit us to
doubt about the fact. The _Jersey Prison-ship_ is proverbial in our
revolutionary history; and the bones of the unfortunate patriots who
perished on board, form a monument on the Long Island shore. The horrors
of the _Sugar House_ converted into a prison, are traditional in New
York; and the brutal tyranny of Cunningham, the provost marshal, over
men of worth confined in the common jail, for the sin of patriotism, has
been handed down from generation to generation.

That Lord Howe and Sir William were ignorant of the extent of these
atrocities we really believe, but it was their duty to be well informed.
War is, at best, a cruel trade, that habituates those who follow it to
regard the sufferings of others with indifference. There is not a doubt,
too, that a feeling of contumely deprived the patriot prisoners of all
sympathy in the early stages of the Revolution. They were regarded as
criminals rather than captives. The stigma of _rebels_ seemed to take
from them all the indulgences, scanty and miserable as they are, usually
granted to prisoners of war. The British officers looked down with
haughty contempt upon the American officers, who had fallen into their
hands. The British soldiery treated them with insolent scurrility. It
seemed as if the very ties of consanguinity rendered their hostility
more intolerant, for it was observed that American prisoners were better
treated by the Hessians than by the British. It was not until our
countrymen had made themselves formidable by their successes that they
were treated, when prisoners, with common decency and humanity.

The difficulties arising out of the case of General Lee interrupted the
operations with regard to the exchange of prisoners; and gallant men, on
both sides, suffered prolonged detention in consequence; and among the
number the brave, but ill-starred Ethan Allen.

Lee, in the mean time, remained in confinement, until directions with
regard to him should be received from government. Events, however, had
diminished his importance in the eyes of the enemy; he was no longer
considered the American palladium. “As the capture of the Hessians and
the manœuvres against the British took place after the surprise of
General Lee,” observes a London writer of the day, “we find that he is
not the only efficient officer in the American service.”[9]

CHAPTER III.

EXERTIONS TO FORM A NEW ARMY—CALLS ON THE DIFFERENT
STATES—INSUFFICIENCY OF THE MILITIA—WASHINGTON’S CARE FOR THE
YEOMANRY—DANGERS IN THE NORTHERN DEPARTMENT—WINTER ATTACK ON
TICONDEROGA APPREHENDED—EXERTIONS TO REINFORCE SCHUYLER—PRECARIOUS
STATE OF WASHINGTON’S ARMY—CONJECTURES AS TO THE DESIGNS OF THE
ENEMY—EXPEDITION OF THE BRITISH AGAINST PEEKSKILL.

The early part of the year brought the annual embarrassments caused by
short enlistments. The brief terms of service for which the Continental
soldiery had enlisted, a few months perhaps, at most a year, were
expiring; and the men, glad to be released from camp duty, were
hastening to their rustic homes. Militia had to be the dependence until
a new army could be raised and organized; and Washington called on the
council of safety of Pennsylvania, speedily to furnish temporary
reinforcements of the kind.

All his officers that could be spared were ordered away, some to
recruit, some to collect the scattered men of the different regiments,
who were dispersed, he said, almost over the continent. General Knox was
sent off to Massachusetts to expedite the raising of a battalion of
artillery. Different States were urged to levy and equip their quotas
for the Continental army. “Nothing but the united efforts of every State
in America,” writes he, “can save us from disgrace, and probably from
ruin.”

Rhode Island is reproached with raising troops for home service before
furnishing its supply to the general army. “If each State,” writes he,
“were to prepare for its own defence independent of each other, they
would all be conquered, one by one. _Our success must depend on a firm
union, and a strict adherence to the general plan._”[10]

He deplores the fluctuating state of the army while depending on
militia; full one day, almost disbanded the next. “I am much afraid that
the enemy, one day or other, taking advantage of one of these temporary
weaknesses, will make themselves masters of our magazines of stores,
arms and artillery.”

The militia, too, on being dismissed, were generally suffered by their
officers to carry home with them the arms with which they had been
furnished, so that the armory was in a manner scattered over all the
world, and for ever lost to the public.

Then an earnest word is spoken by him in behalf of the yeomanry, whose
welfare always lay near his heart. “You must be fully sensible,” writes
he, “of the hardships imposed upon individuals, and how detrimental it
must be to the public to have farmers and tradesmen frequently called
out of the field, as militia men, whereby a total stop is put to arts
and agriculture, without which we cannot long subsist.”

While thus anxiously exerting himself to strengthen his own precarious
army, the security of the Northern department was urged upon his
attention. Schuyler represented it as in need of reinforcements and
supplies of all kinds. He apprehended that Carleton might make an attack
upon Ticonderoga, as soon as he could cross Lake Champlain on the ice;
that important fortress was under the command of a brave officer,
Colonel Anthony Wayne, but its garrison had dwindled down to six or
seven hundred men, chiefly New England militia. In the present destitute
situation of his department as to troops, Schuyler feared that Carleton
might not only succeed in an attempt on Ticonderoga, but might push his
way to Albany.

He had written in vain, he said, to the Convention of New York, and to
the Eastern States, for reinforcements, and he entreated Washington to
aid him with his influence. He wished to have his army composed of
troops from as many different States as possible; the Southern people
having a greater spirit of discipline and subordination, might, he
thought, introduce it among the Eastern people.

He wished also for the assistance of a general officer or two in his
department. “I am alone,” writes he, “distracted with a variety of
cares, and no one to take part of the burden.”[11]

Although Washington considered a winter attack of the kind specified by
Schuyler too difficult and dangerous to be very probable, he urged
reinforcements from Massachusetts and New Hampshire, whence they could
be furnished most speedily. Massachusetts, in fact, had already
determined to send four regiments to Schuyler’s aid as soon as possible.

Washington disapproved of a mixture of troops in the present critical
juncture, knowing, he said, “the difficulty of maintaining harmony among
men from different States, and bringing them to lay aside all
attachments and distinctions of a local and provincial nature, and
_consider themselves the same people, engaged in the same noble
struggle, and having one general interest to defend_.”[12]

The quota of Massachusetts, under the present arrangement of the army,
was fifteen regiments: and Washington ordered General Heath, who was in
Massachusetts, to forward them to Ticonderoga as fast as they could be
raised.[13]

Notwithstanding all Washington’s exertions in behalf of the army under
his immediate command, it continued to be deplorably in want of
reinforcements, and it was necessary to maintain the utmost vigilance at
all his posts to prevent his camp from being surprised. The operations
of the enemy might be delayed by the bad condition of the roads, and the
want of horses to move their artillery, but he anticipated an attack as
soon as the roads were passable, and apprehended a disastrous result
unless speedily reinforced.

“The enemy,” writes he, “must be ignorant of our numbers and situation,
or they would never suffer us to remain unmolested, and I almost tax
myself with imprudence in committing the fact to paper, lest this letter
should fall into other hands than those for which it is intended.” And
again: “It is not in my power to make Congress fully sensible of the
real situation of our affairs, and that it is with difficulty I can keep
the life and soul of the army together. In a word, they are at a
distance; they think it is but to say _presto, begone_, and every thing
is done; they seem not to have any conception of the difficulty and
perplexity of those who have to execute.”

The designs of the enemy being mere matter of conjecture, measures
varied accordingly. As the season advanced, Washington was led to
believe that Philadelphia would be their first object at the opening of
the campaign, and that they would bring round all their troops from
Canada by water to aid in the enterprise. Under this persuasion he wrote
to General Heath, ordering him to send eight of the Massachusetts
battalions to Peekskill instead of Ticonderoga, and he explained his
reasons for so doing in a letter to Schuyler. At Peekskill, he observed,
“they would be well placed to give support to any of the Eastern or
Middle States; or to oppose the enemy, should they design to penetrate
the country up the Hudson; or to cover New England, should they invade
it. Should they move westward, the Eastern and Southern troops could
easily form a junction, and this, besides, would oblige the enemy to
leave a much stronger garrison at New York. Even should the enemy pursue
their first plan of an invasion from Canada, the troops at Peekskill
would not be badly placed to reinforce Ticonderoga, and cover the
country around Albany.” “I am very sure,” concludes he, “the operations
of this army will in a great degree govern the motions of that in
Canada. _If this is held at bay, curbed and confined, the Northern army
will not dare attempt to penetrate._” The last sentence will be found to
contain the policy which governed Washington’s personal movements
throughout the campaign.

On the 18th of March he despatched General Greene to Philadelphia, to
lay before Congress such matters as he could not venture to communicate
by letter. “He is an able and good officer,” writes he, “who has my
entire confidence, and is intimately acquainted with my ideas.”

Greene had scarce departed when the enemy began to give signs of life.
The delay in the arrival of artillery, more than his natural indolence,
had kept General Howe from formally taking the field; he now made
preparations for the next campaign by detaching troops to destroy the
American deposits of military stores. One of the chief of these was at
Peekskill, the very place whither Washington had directed Heath to send
troops from Massachusetts; and which he thought of making a central
point of assemblage. Howe terms it “the port of that rough and
mountainous tract called the Manor of Courtlandt.” Brigadier-general
McDougall had the command of it in the absence of General Heath, but his
force did not exceed two hundred and fifty men.

As soon as the Hudson was clear of ice, a squadron of vessels of war and
transports, with five hundred troops under Colonel Bird, ascended the
river. McDougall had intelligence of the intended attack, and while the
ships were making their way across the Tappan Sea and Haverstraw Bay,
exerted himself to remove as much as possible of the provisions and
stores to Forts Montgomery and Constitution in the Highlands. On the
morning of the 23d, the whole squadron came to anchor in Peekskill Bay;
and five hundred men landed in Lent’s Cove, on the south side of the
bay, whence they pushed forward with four light field-pieces drawn by
sailors. On their approach, McDougall set fire to the barracks and
principal storehouses, and retreated about two miles to a strong post,
commanding the entrance to the Highlands, and the road to Continental
Village, the place of the deposits. It was the post which had been noted
by Washington in the preceding year, where a small force could make a
stand, and hurl down masses of rock on their assailants. Hence McDougall
sent an express to Lieutenant-colonel Marinus Willet, who had charge of
Fort Constitution, to hasten to his assistance.

The British, finding the wharf in flames where they had intended to
embark their spoils, completed the conflagration, beside destroying
several small craft laden with provisions. They kept possession of the
place until the following day, when a scouting party, which had advanced
towards the entrance of the Highlands, was encountered by Colonel
Marinus Willet with a detachment from Fort Constitution, and driven back
to the main body after a sharp skirmish, in which nine of the marauders
were killed. Four more were slain on the banks of Canopas Creek as they
were setting fire to some boats. The enemy were disappointed in the hope
of carrying off a great deal of booty, and finding the country around
was getting under arms, they contented themselves with the mischief they
had done, and re-embarked in the evening by moonlight, when the whole
squadron swept down the Hudson.

CHAPTER IV.

SCHUYLER’S AFFAIRS IN THE NORTHERN DEPARTMENT—MISUNDERSTANDINGS WITH
CONGRESS—GIVES OFFENCE BY A REPROACHFUL LETTER—OFFICE OF
ADJUTANT-GENERAL OFFERED TO GATES—DECLINED BY HIM—SCHUYLER
REPRIMANDED BY CONGRESS FOR HIS REPROACHFUL LETTER—GATES APPOINTED
TO THE COMMAND AT TICONDEROGA—SCHUYLER CONSIDERS HIMSELF VIRTUALLY
SUSPENDED—TAKES HIS SEAT AS A DELEGATE TO CONGRESS, AND CLAIMS A
COURT OF INQUIRY—HAS COMMAND AT PHILADELPHIA.

We have now to enter upon a tissue of circumstances connected with the
Northern department, which will be found materially to influence the
course of affairs in that quarter throughout the current year, and
ultimately to be fruitful of annoyance to Washington himself. To make
these more clear to the reader, it is necessary to revert to events in
the preceding year.

The question of command between Schuyler and Gates, when settled as we
have shown by Congress, had caused no interruption to the harmony of
intercourse between these generals.

Schuyler directed the affairs of the department with energy and activity
from his head-quarters at Albany, where they had been fixed by Congress,
while Gates, subordinate to him, commanded the post of Ticonderoga.

The disappointment of an independent command, however, still rankled in
the mind of the latter, and was kept alive by the officious suggestions
of meddling friends. In the course of the autumn, his hopes in this
respect revived. Schuyler was again disgusted with the service. In the
discharge of his various and harassing duties, he had been annoyed by
sectional jealousies and ill will. His motives and measures had been
maligned. The failures in Canada had been attributed to him, and he had
repeatedly entreated Congress to order an inquiry into the many charges
made against him, “that he might not any longer be insulted.”

“I assure you,” writes he to Gates, on the 25th of August, “that I am so
sincerely tired of abuse, that I will let my enemies arrive at the
completion of their wishes by retiring, as soon as I shall have been
tried; and attempt to serve my injured country in some other way, where
envy and detraction will have no temptation to follow me.”

On the 14th of September, he actually offered his resignation of his
commission as major-general, and of every other office and appointment;
still claiming a court of inquiry on his conduct, and expressing his
determination to fulfil the duties of a good citizen, and promote the
weal of his native country, but in some other capacity. “I trust,”
writes he, “that my successor, whoever he may be, will find that matters
are as prosperously arranged in this department as the nature of the
service will admit. I shall most readily give him any information and
assistance in my power.”

He immediately wrote to General Gates, apprising him of his having sent
in his resignation. “It is much to be lamented,” writes he, “that
calumny is so much cherished in this unhappy country, and that so few of
the servants of the public escape the malevolence of a set of insidious
miscreants. It has driven me to the necessity of resigning.”

As the command of the department, should his resignation be accepted,
would of course devolve on Gates, he assures him he will render every
assistance in his power to any officer whom Gates might appoint to
command in Albany.

All his letters to Gates, while they were thus in relation in the
department, had been kind and courteous; beginning with, “My dear
General,” and ending with, “adieu” and “every friendly wish.” Schuyler
was a warm-hearted man, and his expressions were probably sincere.

The hopes of Gates, inspired by this proffered resignation, were doomed
to be again overclouded. Schuyler was informed by President Hancock,
“that Congress, during the present state of affairs, could not consent
to accept of his resignation; but requested that he would continue in
the command he held, and be assured that the aspersions thrown out by
his enemies against his character, had no influence upon the minds of
the members of that House; and that more effectually to put calumny to
silence, they would at an early day appoint a committee to inquire fully
into his conduct, which they trusted would establish his reputation in
the opinion of all good men.”

Schuyler received the resolve of Congress with grim acquiescence, but
showed in his reply that he was but half soothed. “At this very critical
juncture,” writes he, October 16, “I shall waive those remarks which, in
justice to myself, I must make at a future day. The calumny of my
enemies has arisen to its height. Their malice is incapable of
heightening the injury. * * * * In the alarming situation of our
affairs, I shall continue to act some time longer, but Congress must
prepare to put the care of this department into other hands. I shall be
able to render my country better services in another line: less exposed
to a repetition of the injuries I have sustained.”

He had remained at his post, therefore, discharging the various duties
of his department with his usual zeal and activity; and Gates, at the
end of the campaign, had repaired, as we have shown, to the vicinity of
Congress, to attend the fluctuation of events.

Circumstances in the course of the winter had put the worthy Schuyler
again on points of punctilio with Congress. Among some letters
intercepted by the enemy and retaken by the Americans, was one from
Colonel Joseph Trumbull, the commissary-general, insinuating that
General Schuyler had secreted or suppressed a commission sent for his
brother, Colonel John Trumbull, as deputy adjutant-general.[14] The
purport of the letter was reported to Schuyler. He spurned at the
insinuation. “If it be true that he has asserted such a thing,” writes
he to the president, “I shall expect from Congress that justice which is
due to me.”

Three weeks later he enclosed to the president a copy of Trumbull’s
letter. “I hope,” writes he, “Congress will not entertain the least idea
that I can tamely submit to such injurious treatment. I expect they will
immediately do what is incumbent on them on the occasion. Until Mr.
Trumbull and I are upon a footing, I cannot do what the laws of honor
and a regard to my own reputation render indispensably necessary.
Congress can put us on a par by dismissing one or the other from the
service.”

Congress failed to comply with the general’s request. They added also to
his chagrin by dismissing from the service an army physician, in whose
appointment he had particularly interested himself.

Schuyler was a proud-spirited man, and, at times, somewhat irascible. In
a letter to Congress on the 8th of February, he observed: “As Dr.
Stringer had my recommendation to the office he has sustained, perhaps
it was a compliment due to me that I should have been advised of the
reason of his dismission.”

And again: “I was in hopes some notice would have been taken of the
odious suspicion contained in Mr. Commissary Trumbull’s intercepted
letter. I really feel myself deeply chagrined on the occasion. I am
incapable of the meanness he suspects me of, and I confidently expected
that Congress would have done me that justice which it was in their
power to give, and which I humbly conceive they ought to have done.”

This letter gave great umbrage to Congress, but no immediate answer was
made to it.

About this time the office of adjutant-general, which had remained
vacant ever since the resignation of Colonel Reed, to the great
detriment of the service, especially now when a new army was to be
formed, was offered to General Gates, who had formerly filled it with
ability; and President Hancock informed him, by letter, of the earnest
desire of Congress that he should resume it, retaining his present rank
and pay.

Gates almost resented the proposal. “Unless the commander-in-chief
earnestly makes the same request with your Excellency,” replies he, “all
my endeavors as adjutant-general would be vain and fruitless. I had,
last year, the honor to command in the second post in America; and had
the good fortune to prevent the enemy from making their so much
wished-for junction with General Howe. After this, to be expected to
dwindle again to the adjutant-general, requires more philosophy on my
part, and something more than words on yours.”[15]

He wrote to Washington to the same effect, but declared that, should it
be his Excellency’s wish, he would resume the office with alacrity.

Washington promptly replied that he had often wished it in secret,
though he had never even hinted at it; supposing Gates might have
scruples on the subject. “You cannot conceive the pleasure I feel,” adds
he, “when you tell me that, if it is my desire that you should resume
your former office, you will with cheerfulness and alacrity proceed to
Morristown.” He thanks him for this mark of attention to his wishes;
assures him that he looks upon his resumption of the office as the only
means of giving form and regularity to the new army; and will be glad to
receive a line from him mentioning the time he would leave Philadelphia.

He received no such line. Gates had a higher object in view. A letter
from Schuyler to Congress, had informed that body that he should set out
for Philadelphia about the 21st of March, and should immediately on his
arrival require the promised inquiry into his conduct. Gates, of course,
was acquainted with this circumstance. He knew Schuyler had given
offence to Congress; he knew that he had been offended on his own part,
and had repeatedly talked of resigning. He had active friends in
Congress ready to push his interests. On the 12th of March his letter to
President Hancock about the proffered adjutancy was read, and ordered to
be taken into consideration on the following day.

On the 13th, a committee of five was appointed to confer with him upon
the general state of affairs.

On the 15th, the letter of General Schuyler of the 3d of February, which
had given such offence, was brought before the House, and it was
resolved that his suggestion concerning the dismission of Dr. Stringer
was highly derogatory to the honor of Congress, and that it was expected
his letters in future would be written in a style suitable to the
dignity of the representative body of these free and independent States,
and to his own character as their officer. His expressions, too,
respecting the intercepted letter, that he had expected Congress would
have done him all the justice in their power, were pronounced, “to say
the least, ill-advised and highly indecent.”[16]

While Schuyler was thus in partial eclipse, the House proceeded to
appoint a general officer for the Northern department, of which he had
stated it to be in need.

On the 25th of March, Gates received the following note from President
Hancock: “I have it in charge to direct that you repair to Ticonderoga
immediately, and take command of the army stationed in that department.”

Gates obeyed with alacrity. Again the vision of an independent command
floated before his mind, and he was on his way to Albany, at the time
that Schuyler, ignorant of this new arrangement, was journeying to
Philadelphia. Gates was accompanied by Brigadier-general Fermois, a
French officer, recently commissioned in the Continental army. A rumor
of his approach preceded him. “What are the terms on which Gates is
coming on?” was asked in Albany. “Has Schuyler been superseded, or is he
to be so, or has he resigned?” For a time all was rumor and conjecture.
A report reached his family that he was to be divested of all titles and
rank other than that of Philip Schuyler, Esquire. They heard it with
joy, knowing the carking cares and annoyances that had beset him in his
command. His military friends deprecated it as a great loss to the
service.[17]

When Gates arrived in Albany, Colonel Varick, Schuyler’s secretary,
waited on him with a message from Mrs. Schuyler, inviting him to take up
his quarters at the general’s house, which was in the vicinity. He
declined, as the despatch of affairs required him to be continually in
town; but took his breakfast with Mrs. Schuyler the next morning. He
remained in Albany, unwilling to depart for Ticonderoga until there
should be sufficient troops there to support him.

Schuyler arrived in Philadelphia in the second week in April, and found
himself superseded in effect by General Gates in the Northern
department. He enclosed to the committee of Albany the recent
resolutions of Congress, passed before his arrival. “By these,” writes
he, “you will readily perceive that I shall not return a general. Under
what influence it has been brought about, I am not at liberty now to
mention. On my return to Albany, I shall give the committee the fullest
information.”[18]

Taking his seat in Congress as a delegate from New York, he demanded the
promised investigation of his conduct during the time he had held a
command in the army. It was his intention, when the scrutiny had taken
place, to resign his commission, and retire from the service. On the
18th, a committee of inquiry was appointed, as at his request, composed
of a member from each State.

In the mean time, as second major-general of the United States (Lee
being the first), he held active command at Philadelphia, forming a camp
on the western side of the Delaware, completing the works on Fort
Island, throwing up works on Red Bank, and accelerating the despatch of
troops and provisions to the commander-in-chief. During his sojourn at
Philadelphia, also, he contributed essentially to reorganize the
commissary department; digesting rules for its regulation, which were
mainly adopted by Congress.

CHAPTER V.

FOREIGN OFFICERS CANDIDATES FOR SITUATIONS IN THE ARMY—DIFFICULTIES IN
ADJUSTING QUESTIONS OF RANK—DUCOUDRAY—CONWAY—KOSCIUSZKO—WASHINGTON’S
GUARDS—ARNOLD OMITTED IN THE ARMY PROMOTIONS—WASHINGTON TAKES HIS
PART—BRITISH EXPEDITION AGAINST DANBURY—DESTRUCTION OF AMERICAN
STORES—CONNECTICUT YEOMANRY IN ARMS—SKIRMISH AT RIDGEFIELD—DEATH OF
GENERAL WOOSTER—GALLANT SERVICES OF ARNOLD—REWARDED BY
CONGRESS—EXPLOIT OF COLONEL MEIGS AT SAG HARBOR.

The fame of the American struggle for independence was bringing foreign
officers as candidates for admission into the patriot army, and causing
great embarrassment to the commander-in-chief. “They seldom,” writes
Washington, “bring more than a commission and a passport; which we know
may belong to a bad as well as a good officer. Their ignorance of our
language, and their inability to recruit men, are insurmountable
obstacles to their being engrafted in our Continental battalions; for
our officers, who have raised their men, and have served through the war
upon pay that has not hitherto borne their expenses, would be disgusted
if foreigners were put over their head; and I assure you, few or none of
these gentlemen look lower than field-officers’ commissions. * * * Some
general mode of disposing of them must be adopted, for it is ungenerous
to keep them in suspense, and a great charge to themselves; but I am at
a loss to know how to point out this mode.”

Congress determined that no foreign officers should receive commissions
who were not well acquainted with the English language, and did not
bring strong testimonials of their abilities. Still there was
embarrassment. Some came with brevet commissions from the French
government, and had been assured by Mr. Deane, American commissioner at
Paris, that they would have the same rank in the American army. This
would put them above American officers of merit and hard service, whose
commissions were of more recent date. One Monsieur Ducoudray, on the
strength of an agreement with Mr. Deane, expected to have the rank of
major-general, and to be put at the head of the artillery. Washington
deprecated the idea of intrusting a department on which the very
salvation of the army might depend, to a foreigner, who had no other tie
to bind him to the interests of the country than honor; besides, he
observed, it would endanger the loss to the service of General Knox, “a
man of great military reading, sound judgment, and clear perceptions. He
has conducted the affairs of that department with honor to himself and
advantage to the public, and will resign if any one is put over him.”

In fact, the report that Ducoudray was to be a major-general, with a
commission dated in the preceding year, caused a commotion among the
American officers of that rank, but whose commissions were of later
date. Congress eventually determined not to ratify the contract entered
into between Mr. Deane and Monsieur Ducoudray, and resolved that the
commissions of foreign officers received into the service, should bear
date on the day of their being filled up by Washington.

Among the foreign candidates for appointments was one Colonel Conway, a
native of Ireland, but who, according to his own account, had been
thirty years in the service of France, and claimed to be a chevalier of
the order of St. Louis, of which he wore the decoration. Mr. Deane had
recommended him to Washington as an officer of merit, and had written to
Congress that he considered him well qualified for the office of
adjutant or brigadier-general, and that he had given him reason to hope
for one or the other of these appointments. Colonel Conway pushed for
that of brigadier-general. It had been conferred some time before by
Congress on two French officers, De Fermois and Deborre, who, he had
observed, had been inferior to him in the French service, and it would
be mortifying now to hold rank below them.

“I cannot pretend,” writes Washington to the president, “to speak of
Colonel Conway’s merits or abilities of my own knowledge. He appears to
be a man of candor, and, if he has been in service as long as he says, I
should suppose him infinitely better qualified to serve us than many who
have been promoted; as he speaks our language.”

Conway accordingly received the rank of brigadier-general, of which he
subsequently proved himself unworthy. He was boastful and presumptuous,
and became noted for his intrigues, and for a despicable cabal against
the commander-in-chief, which went by his name, and of which we shall
have to speak hereafter.

A candidate of a different stamp had presented himself in the preceding
year, the gallant, generous-spirited, Thaddeus Kosciuszko. He was a
Pole, of an ancient and noble family of Lithuania, and had been educated
for the profession of arms at the military school at Warsaw, and
subsequently in France. Disappointed in a love affair with a beautiful
lady of rank with whom he had attempted to elope, he had emigrated to
this country, and came provided with a letter of introduction from Dr.
Franklin to Washington.

“What do you seek here?” inquired the commander-in-chief.

“To fight for American independence.”

“What can you do?”

“Try me.”

Washington was pleased with the curt, yet comprehensive reply, and with
his chivalrous air and spirit, and at once received him into his family
as an aide-de-camp.[19] Congress shortly afterwards appointed him an
engineer, with the rank of colonel. He proved a valuable officer
throughout the Revolution, and won an honorable and lasting name in our
country.

Among the regiments which had been formed in the spring, one had been
named by its officers “The Congress’s Own,” and another “General
Washington’s Life Guards.” A resolve of Congress promptly appeared,
pronouncing those appellations improper, and ordering that they should
be discontinued. Washington’s own modesty had already administered a
corrective. In a letter to the President of Congress, he declared that
the regiments had been so named without his consent or privity. “As soon
as I heard of it,” writes he, “I wrote to several of the officers in
terms of severe reprehension, and expressly charged them to suppress the
distinction, adding that all the battalions were on the same footing,
and all under the general name of Continental.” No man was less desirous
for all individual distinctions of the kind.

Somewhat later he really formed a company for his guard. Colonel
Alexander Spotswood had the selection of the men, four from each
regiment; and was charged to be extremely cautious, “because,” writes
Washington, “it is more than probable that, in the course of the
campaign, my baggage, papers, and other matters of great public import,
may be committed to the sole care of these men.” That the company might
look well, and be nearly of a size, none were to be over five feet ten,
nor under five feet nine inches in stature, and to be sober, young,
active, and well-made, of good character, and proud of appearing clean
and soldierlike. As there would be a greater chance for fidelity among
such as had family connections in the country, Spotswood was charged to
send none but natives, and, if possible, men of some property. “I must
insist,” concludes Washington, “that, in making this choice, you give no
intimation of my preference of natives, as I do not want to create any
invidious distinction between them and the officers.”[20]

Questions of rank among his generals, were, as we have repeatedly shown,
perpetual sources of perplexity to Washington, and too often caused by
what the sarcastic Lee termed “the stumblings of Congress;” such was the
case at present. In recent army promotions, Congress had advanced
Stirling, Mifflin, St. Clair, Stephen, and Lincoln, to the rank of
major-general, while Arnold, their senior in service, and distinguished
by so many brilliant exploits, was passed over and left to remain a
brigadier.

Washington was surprised at not seeing his name on the list, but
supposing it might have been omitted through mistake, he wrote to
Arnold, who was at Providence in Rhode Island, advising him not to take
any hasty step in consequence, but to allow time for recollection,
promising his own endeavors to remedy any error that might have been
made. He wrote also to Henry Lee in Congress, inquiring whether the
omission was owing to accident or design. “Surely,” said he, “a more
active, a more spirited, and sensible officer, fills no department of
your army. Not seeing him, then, in the list of major-generals, and no
mention made of him, has given me uneasiness; as it is not presumed,
being the oldest brigadier, that he will continue in service under such
a slight.”

Arnold was, in truth, deeply wounded by the omission. “I am greatly
obliged to your Excellency,” writes he to Washington, “for interesting
yourself so much in respect to my appointment, which I have had no
advice of, and know not by what means it was announced in the papers.
Congress undoubtedly have a right of promoting those whom, from their
abilities, and their long and arduous services, they esteem most
deserving. Their promoting junior officers to the rank of
major-generals, I view as a very civil way of requesting my resignation,
as unqualified for the office I hold. My commission was conferred
unsolicited, and received with pleasure only as a means of serving my
country. With equal pleasure I resign it, when I can no longer serve my
country with honor. The person who, void of the nice feelings of honor,
will tamely condescend to give up his right, and retain a commission at
the expense of his reputation, I hold as a disgrace to the army, and
unworthy of the glorious cause in which we are engaged. * * * * In
justice, therefore, to my own character, and for the satisfaction of my
friends, I must request a court of inquiry into my conduct; and though I
sensibly feel the ingratitude of my countrymen, yet every personal
injury shall be buried in my zeal for the safety and happiness of my
country, in whose cause I have repeatedly fought and bled, and am ready
at all times to risk my life.”

He subsequently intimated that he should avoid any hasty step, and
should remain at his post until he could leave it without any damage to
the public interest.

The principle upon which Congress had proceeded in their recent
promotions was explained to Washington. The number of general officers
promoted from each State was proportioned to the number of men furnished
by it. Connecticut (Arnold’s State) had already two major-generals,
which was its full share. “I confess,” writes Washington to Arnold,
“this is a strange mode of reasoning; but it may serve to show you that
the promotion, which was due to your seniority, was not overlooked for
want of merit in you.”

“The point,” observes he, “is of so delicate a nature, that I will not
even undertake to advise. Your own feelings must be your guide. As no
particular charge is alleged against you, I do not see upon what grounds
you can demand a court of inquiry. Your determination not to quit your
present command, while any danger to the public might ensue from your
leaving it, deserves my thanks, and justly entitles you to the thanks of
the country.”

An opportunity occurred before long, for Arnold again to signalize
himself.

The amount of stores destroyed at Peekskill had fallen far short of
General Howe’s expectations. Something more must be done to cripple the
Americans before the opening of the campaign. Accordingly, another
expedition was set on foot against a still larger deposit at Danbury,
within the borders of Connecticut, and between twenty and thirty miles
from Peekskill.

Ex-governor Tryon, recently commissioned major-general of provincials,
conducted it, accompanied by Brigadier-general Agnew and Sir William
Erskine. He had a mongrel force two thousand strong; American, Irish,
and British refugees from various parts of the continent, and made his
appearance on the Sound in the latter part of April, with a fleet of
twenty-six sail, greatly to the disquiet of every assailable place along
the coast. On the 25th, towards evening, he landed his troops on the
beach at the foot of Canepo Hill, near the mouth of the Saugatuck River.
The yeomanry of the neighbourhood had assembled to resist them, but a
few cannon shots made them give way, and the troops set off for Danbury,
about twenty-three miles distant; galled at first by a scattering fire
from behind a stone fence. They were in a patriotic neighborhood.
General Silliman, of the Connecticut militia, who resided at Fairfield,
a few miles distant, sent out expresses to rouse the country. It so
happened that General Arnold was at New Haven, between twenty and thirty
miles off, on his way to Philadelphia for the purpose of settling his
accounts. At the alarm of a British inroad, he forgot his injuries and
irritation, mounted his horse, and, accompanied by General Wooster,
hastened to join General Silliman. As they spurred forward, every farm
house sent out its warrior, until upwards of a hundred were pressing on
with them, full of the fighting spirit. Lieutenant Oswald, Arnold’s
secretary in the Canada campaign, who had led the forlorn hope in the
attempt upon Quebec, was at this time at New Haven, enlisting men for
Lamb’s regiment of artillery. He, too, heard the note of alarm, and
mustering his recruits, marched off with three field-pieces for the
scene of action.[21]

In the mean while the British, marching all night with short haltings,
reached Danbury about two o’clock in the afternoon of the 26th. There
were but fifty Continental soldiers and one hundred militia in the
place. These retreated, as did most of the inhabitants, excepting such
as remained to take care of the sick and aged. Four men, intoxicated, as
it was said, fired upon the troops from the windows of a large house.
The soldiers rushed in, drove them into the cellar, set fire to the
house, and left them to perish in the flames.

There was a great quantity of stores of all kinds in the village, and no
vehicles to convey them to the ships. The work of destruction commenced.
The soldiers made free with the liquors found in abundance; and
throughout the greater part of the night there was revel, drunkenness,
blasphemy, and devastation. Tryon, full of anxiety, and aware that the
country was rising, ordered a retreat before daylight, setting fire to
the magazines to complete the destruction of the stores. The flames
spread to the other edifices, and almost the whole village was soon in a
blaze. The extreme darkness of a rainy night made the conflagration more
balefully apparent throughout the country.

While these scenes had been transacted at Danbury, the Connecticut
yeomanry had been gathering. Fairfield and the adjacent counties had
poured out their minute men. General Silliman had advanced at the head
of five hundred. Generals Wooster and Arnold joined him with their
chance followers, as did a few more militia. A heavy rain retarded their
march; it was near midnight when they reached Bethel, within four miles
of Danbury. Here they halted, to take a little repose and put their arms
in order, rendered almost unserviceable by the rain. They were now about
six hundred strong. Wooster took the command, as first major-general of
the militia of the State. Though in the sixty-eighth year of his age, he
was full of ardor, with almost youthful fire and daring. A plan was
concerted to punish the enemy on their retreat; and the lurid light of
Danbury in flames redoubled the provocation. At dawn of day, Wooster
detached Arnold with four hundred men, to push across the country and
take post at Ridgefield, by which the British must pass; while he with
two hundred remained, to hang on and harass them in flank and rear.

The British began their retreat early in the morning, conducting it in
regular style, with flanking parties, and a rear-guard well furnished
with artillery. As soon as they had passed his position, Wooster
attacked the rear-guard with great spirit and effect; there was sharp
skirmishing until within two miles of Ridgefield, when, as the veteran
was cheering on his men, who began to waver, a musket ball brought him
down from his horse, and finished his gallant career. On his fall his
men retreated in disorder.

The delay which his attack had occasioned to the enemy, had given Arnold
time to throw up a kind of breastwork or barricade across the road at
the north end of Ridgefield, protected by a house on the right, and a
high rocky bank on the left, where he took his stand with his little
force now increased to about five hundred men. About eleven o’clock the
enemy advanced in column, with artillery and flanking parties. They were
kept at bay for a time, and received several volleys from the barricade,
until it was outflanked and carried. Arnold ordered a retreat, and was
bringing off the rear-guard, when his horse was shot under him, and came
down upon his knees. Arnold remained seated in the saddle, with one foot
entangled in the stirrups. A tory soldier, seeing his plight, rushed
towards him with fixed bayonet. He had just time to draw a pistol from
the holster. “You’re my prisoner,” cried the tory. “Not yet!” exclaimed
Arnold, and shot him dead. Then extricating his foot from the stirrup,
he threw himself into the thickets of a neighboring swamp, and escaped,
unharmed by the bullets that whistled after him, and joined his
retreating troops.

General Tryon intrenched for the night in Ridgefield, his troops having
suffered greatly in their harassed retreat. The next morning, after
having set fire to four houses, he continued his march for the ships.

Colonel Huntingdon, of the Continental army, with the troops which had
been stationed at Danbury, the scattered forces of Wooster which had
joined him, and a number of militia, hung on the rear of the enemy as
soon as they were in motion. Arnold was again in the field, with his
rallied forces, strengthened by Lieutenant-colonel Oswald with two
companies of Lamb’s artillery regiment and three field-pieces. With
these he again posted himself on the enemy’s route.

Difficulties and annoyances had multiplied upon the latter at every
step. When they came in sight of the position where Arnold was waiting
for them, they changed their route, wheeled to the left, and made for a
ford of Saugatuck River. Arnold hastened to cross the bridge and take
them in flank, but they were too quick for him. Colonel Lamb had now
reached the scene of action, as had about two hundred volunteers.
Leaving to Oswald the charge of the artillery, he put himself at the
head of the volunteers, and led them up to Arnold’s assistance.

The enemy, finding themselves hard pressed, pushed for Canepo Hill. They
reached it in the evening, without a round of ammunition in their
cartridge-boxes. As they were now within cannon shot of their ships, the
Americans ceased the pursuit. The British formed upon the high ground,
brought their artillery to the front, and sent off to the ships for
reinforcements. Sir William Erskine landed a large body of marines and
sailors, who drove the Americans back for some distance, and covered the
embarkation of the troops. Colonel Lamb, while leading on his men
gallantly to capture the British field-pieces, was wounded by a grape
shot, and Arnold, while cheering on the militia, had another horse shot
under him. In the mean time, the harassed marauders effected their
embarkation, and the fleet got under way.

In this inroad the enemy destroyed a considerable amount of military
stores, and seventeen hundred tents prepared for the use of Washington’s
army in the ensuing campaign. The loss of General Wooster was deeply
deplored. He survived the action long enough to be consoled in his dying
moments at Danbury, by the presence of his wife and son, who hastened
thither from New Haven. As to Arnold, his gallantry in this affair
gained him fresh laurels, and Congress, to remedy their late error,
promoted him to the rank of major-general. Still this promotion did not
restore him to his proper position. He was at the bottom of the list of
major-generals, with four officers above him, his juniors in service.
Washington felt this injustice on the part of Congress, and wrote about
it to the president. “He has certainly discovered,” said he, “in every
instance where he has had an opportunity, much bravery, activity and
enterprise. But what will be done about his rank? He will not act, most
probably, under those he commanded but a few weeks ago.”

As an additional balm to Arnold’s wounded pride, Congress a few days
afterwards voted that a horse, properly caparisoned, should be presented
to him in their name, as a token of their approbation of his gallant
conduct in the late action, “in which he had one horse shot under him
and another wounded.” But after all he remained at the bottom of the
list, and the wound still rankled in his bosom.

The destructive expeditions against the American depôts of military
stores, were retaliated in kind by Colonel Meigs, a spirited officer,
who had accompanied Arnold in his expedition through the wilderness
against Quebec, and had caught something of his love for hardy exploit.
Having received intelligence that the British commissaries had collected
a great amount of grain, forage, and other supplies at Sag Harbor, a
small port in the deep bay which forks the east end of Long Island, he
crossed the Sound on the 23d of May from Guilford in Connecticut, with
about one hundred and seventy men in whale-boats convoyed by two armed
sloops: landed on the island near Southold; carried the boats a distance
of fifteen miles across the north fork of the bay, launched them into
the latter, crossed it, landed within four miles of Sag Harbor, and
before daybreak carried the place, which was guarded by a company of
foot. A furious fire of round and grape shot was opened upon the
Americans from an armed schooner, anchored about one hundred and fifty
yards from shore; and stout defence was made by the crews of a dozen
brigs and sloops lying at the wharf to take in freight; but Meigs
succeeded in burning these vessels, destroying every thing on shore, and
carrying off ninety prisoners; among whom were the officer of the
company of foot, the commissaries, and the captains of most of the small
vessels. With these he and his party recrossed the bay, transported
their boats again across the fork of land, launched them on the Sound,
and got safe back to Guilford, having achieved all this, and traversed
about ninety miles of land and water, in twenty-five hours. Washington
was so highly pleased with the spirit and success of this enterprise,
that he publicly returned thanks to Colonel Meigs and the officers and
men engaged in it. It could not fail, he said, greatly to distress the
enemy in the important and essential article of forage. But it was the
moral effect of the enterprise which gave it the most value. It is
difficult, at the present day, sufficiently to appreciate the importance
of partisan exploits of the kind, in the critical stage of the war of
which we are treating. They cheered the spirit of the people, depressed
by overshadowing dangers and severe privations, and kept alive the
military spark that was to kindle into the future flame.

CHAPTER VI.

SCHUYLER ON THE POINT OF RESIGNING—COMMITTEE OF INQUIRY REPORT IN HIS
FAVOR—HIS MEMORIAL TO CONGRESS PROVES SATISFACTORY—DISCUSSIONS
REGARDING THE NORTHERN DEPARTMENT—GATES MISTAKEN AS TO HIS
POSITION—HE PROMPTS HIS FRIENDS IN CONGRESS—HIS PETULANT LETTER TO
WASHINGTON—DIGNIFIED REPLY OF THE LATTER—POSITION OF GATES
DEFINED—SCHUYLER REINSTATED IN COMMAND OF THE DEPARTMENT—GATES
APPEARS ON THE FLOOR OF CONGRESS—HIS PROCEEDINGS THERE.

The time was at hand for the committee of inquiry on General Schuyler’s
conduct to make their report to Congress, and he awaited it with
impatience. “I propose in a day or two to resign my commission,” writes
he to Washington on the 3d of May. “As soon as I have done it, I shall
transmit to your Excellency my reasons for such a step.”

Washington was grieved at receiving this intimation. He had ever found
Schuyler a faithful coadjutor. He knew his peculiar fitness for the
Northern department from his knowledge of the country and its people;
his influence among its most important citizens; his experience in
treating with the Indians; his fiery energy; his fertility in
expedients, and his “sound military sense.” But he knew also his
sensitive nature, and the peculiar annoyances with which he had had to
contend. On a former occasion he had prevented him from resigning, by an
appeal to his patriotism; he no longer felt justified in interfering. “I
am sorry,” writes he, “that circumstances are such as to dispose you to
a resignation; but you are the best judge of the line of conduct most
reconcilable to your duty, both in a public and personal view; and your
own feelings must determine you in a matter of so delicate and
interesting a nature.”[22]

Affairs, however, were taking a more favorable turn. The committee of
inquiry made a report which placed the character of Schuyler higher than
ever as an able and active commander, and a zealous and disinterested
patriot.

He made a memorial to Congress explaining away, or apologizing for, the
expressions in his letter of the 4th of February, which had given
offence to the House. His memorial was satisfactory; and he was
officially informed that Congress now “entertained the same favorable
sentiments concerning him, that they had entertained before that letter
was received.”

There were warm discussions in the House on the subject of the Northern
department. Several of the most important of the New York delegates
observed that General Gates misapprehended his position. He considered
himself as holding the same command as that formerly held by General
Schuyler. Such was not the intention of Congress in sending him to take
command of the army at Ticonderoga. There had been a question between
sending him to _that post_, or giving him the adjutancy general, and it
had been decided for the former.

It would be nonsense, they observed, to give him command of the Northern
department, and confine him to Ticonderoga and Mount Independence, where
he could not have an extensive idea of the defence of the frontier of
the Eastern States; but only of one spot, to which the enemy were not
obliged to confine their operations, and, as it were, to knock their
heads against a single rock. The affairs of the north-east, it was
added, and of the State of New York in particular, were in a critical
condition. Much disaffection prevailed, and great clashing of interests.
There was but one man capable of keeping all united against the common
enemy, and he stood on the books as commander-in-chief of the Middle,
or, as it was sometimes called, the Northern department. His presence
was absolutely necessary in his home quarters for their immediate
succor, but if he returned, he would be a general without an army or a
military chest; and why was he thus disgraced?

The friends of Gates, on the other hand, who were chiefly delegates from
New England, pronounced it an absurdity, that an officer holding such an
important post as Ticonderoga, should be under the absolute orders of
another one hundred miles distant, engaged in treaties with Indians, and
busied in the duties of a provedore. The establishment of commands in
departments was entirely wrong; there should be a commander-in-chief,
and commanders of the different armies.

We gather these scanty particulars from a letter addressed to Gates by
Mr. Lovell. The latter expresses himself with a proper spirit. “I wish,”
writes he, “some course could be taken which would suit you both. It is
plain all the Northern army cannot be intended for the single garrison
of Ticonderoga. Who then has the distribution of the members? This must
depend on one opinion, or there can be no decision in the defence of the
Northern frontiers. It is an unhappy circumstance that such is the
altercation at the opening of the campaign.”

This letter produced an anxious reply: “Why,” writes Gates, “when the
argument in support of General Schuyler’s command was imposed upon
Congress, did not you or somebody say, ’the second post upon this
continent next campaign will be at or near Peekskill. There General
Schuyler ought to go and command, that will be the curb in the mouth of
the New York tories, and the enemy’s army. He will then be near the
convention, and in the centre of the colony, have a military chest, and
all the insignia of office. This command in honor could not be refused,
without owning there is something more alluring than command to General
Schuyler, by fixing him at Albany. By urging this matter home you would
have proved the man. He would have resigned all command, have accepted
the government of New York, and been fixed to a station where he must do
good, and which could not interfere with, or prevent any arrangement
Congress have made, or may hereafter make. Unhappy State! That has but
one man in it who can fix the wavering minds of its inhabitants to the
side of freedom! How could you sit patiently, and, uncontradicted,
suffer such impertinence to be crammed down your throats?”

“Why is it nonsense,” pursues Gates, “to station the commanding general
in the Northern department at Ticonderoga? Was it not the uniform
practice of the royal army all last war? Nothing is more certain than
that the enemy must first possess that single rock before they can
penetrate the country. * * * It is foolish in the extreme, to believe
the enemy this year can form any attack from the northward but by
Ticonderoga. Where, then, ought the commanding general to be posted?
Certainly at Ticonderoga. If General Schuyler is solely to possess all
the power, all the intelligence, and that particular favorite, the
military chest, and constantly reside at Albany, I cannot, with any
peace of mind, serve at Ticonderoga.”[23]

This letter was despatched by private hand to Philadelphia.

While Gates was in this mood, his aide-de-camp, Major Troup, reported an
unsuccessful application to the commander-in-chief for tents. In the
petulance of the moment, Gates addressed the following letter to
Washington. “Major Troup, upon being disappointed in procuring tents at
Fishkill, acquaints me that he went to head-quarters to implore your
Excellency’s aid in that particular for the Northern army. He says your
Excellency told him you should want every tent upon the continent for
the armies to the southward, and that you did not see any occasion the
Northern army could have for tents, for, being a fixed post, they might
hut. Refusing this army what you have not in your power to bestow, is
one thing,” adds Gates, “but saying that this army has not the same
necessities as the Southern armies, is another. I can assure your
Excellency the service of the northward requires tents as much as any
service I ever saw.”[24]

However indignant Washington may have felt at the disrespectful tone of
this letter, and the unwarrantable imputation of sectional partiality
contained in it, he contented himself with a grave and measured rebuke.
“Can you suppose,” writes he, “if there had been an ample supply of
tents for the whole army, that I should have hesitated one moment in
complying with your demand? I told Major Troup that on account of our
loss at Danbury there would be a scarcity of tents; that our army would
be a moving one, and that consequently nothing but tents would serve our
turn; and that, therefore, as there would be the greatest probability of
your being stationary, you should endeavor to cover your troops with
barracks and huts. Certainly this was not a refusal of tents, but a
request that you should, in our contracted situation, make every shift
to do without them, or at least with as few as possible.

“The Northern army is, and ever has been, as much the object of my care
and attention as the one immediately under my command. * * * * I will
make particular inquiry of the quartermaster-general, concerning his
prospect and expectations as to the article of tents; and if, as I said
before, there appears a sufficiency for the whole army, you shall most
willingly have your share. But, if there is not, surely that army whose
movement is uncertain, must give up its claims for the present to that
which must inevitably take the field the moment the weather will admit,
and must continue in it the whole campaign.”[25]

Notwithstanding this reply, Gates persisted in imputing sectional
partiality to the commander-in-chief, and sought to impart the same idea
to Congress. “Either I am exceedingly dull or unreasonably jealous,”
writes he to his correspondent Mr. Lovell, “if I do not discover by the
style and tenor of the letters from Morristown, how little I have to
expect from thence. Generals are so far like parsons, they are all for
christening their own child first; but, let an impartial moderating
power decide between us, and do not suffer Southern prejudices to weigh
heavier in the balance than the Northern.”[26]

A letter from Mr. Lovell, dated the 23d of May, put an end to the
suspense of the general with respect to his position. “Misconceptions of
past resolves and consequent jealousies,” writes he, “have produced a
definition of the Northern department, and General Schuyler is ordered
to take command of it. The resolve, also, which was thought to _fix_
head-quarters at Albany, is repealed.”

Such a resolve had actually been passed on the 22d, and Albany,
Ticonderoga, Fort Stanwix, and their dependencies, were thenceforward to
be considered as forming the Northern department. The envoy of Gates,
bearing the letter in which he had carved out a command for Schuyler at
Peekskill, arrived at Philadelphia too late. The general was already
provided for.

Schuyler was received with open arms at Albany, on the 3d of June. “I
had the satisfaction,” writes he, “to experience the finest feelings
which my country expressed on my arrival and reappointment. The day
after my arrival, the whole county committee did me the honor in form to
congratulate me.”

Gates was still in Albany, delaying to proceed with General Fermois to
Ticonderoga until the garrison should be sufficiently strengthened.
Although the resolve of Congress did but define his position, which had
been misunderstood, he persisted in considering himself degraded,
declined serving under General Schuyler, who would have given him the
post at Ticonderoga in his absence; and obtaining permission to leave
the department, set out on the 9th for Philadelphia, to demand redress
of Congress.

General St. Clair was sent to take command of the troops at Ticonderoga,
accompanied by Gen. de Fermois. As the whole force in the Northern
department would not be sufficient to command the extensive works there
on both sides of the lake, St. Clair was instructed to bestow his first
attention in fortifying Mount Independence, on the east side, Schuyler
considering it much the most defensible, and that it might be made
capable of sustaining a long and vigorous siege.

“I am fully convinced,” writes he, “that between two and three thousand
men can effectually maintain Mount Independence and secure the pass.”

It would be imprudent, he thought, to station the greater part of the
forces at Fort Ticonderoga; as, should the enemy be able to invest it,
and cut off the communication with the country on the east side, it
might experience a disaster similar to that at Fort Washington.

The orders of Schuyler to officers commanding posts in the department,
are characterized by his Dutch attention to cleanliness as to the
quarters of the soldiers, their bedding, clothing, and equipments.

All officers mounting guard, were to have their hair dressed and
powdered. The adjutants of the several corps were to be particularly
careful that none of the non-commissioned officers and soldiers mount
guard without having their hair dressed and powdered, their persons
perfectly clean, and their arms and accoutrements in the most complete
order.

While Schuyler was thus providing for the security of Ticonderoga, and
enforcing cleanliness in his department, Gates was wending his way to
Philadelphia, his bosom swelling with imaginary wrongs. He arrived there
on the 18th. The next day at noon, Mr. Roger Sherman, an Eastern
delegate, informed Congress that General Gates was waiting at the door,
and wished admittance.

“For what purpose?” it was asked.

“To communicate intelligence of importance,” replied Mr. Sherman.

Gates was accordingly ushered in, took his seat in an elbow chair, and
proceeded to give some news concerning the Indians; their friendly
dispositions, their delight at seeing French officers in the American
service, and other matters of the kind; then, drawing forth some papers
from his pocket, he opened upon the real object of his visit; stating
from his notes, in a flurried and disjointed manner, the easy and happy
life he had left to take up arms for the liberties of America; and how
strenuously he had exerted himself in its defence; how that some time in
March he had been appointed to a command in the Northern department; but
that a few days ago, without having given any cause of offence, without
accusation, without trial, without hearing, without notice, he had
received a resolution by which he was, in a most disgraceful manner,
superseded in his command. Here his irritated feelings got the better of
his judgment, and he indulged in angry reproaches of Congress, and
recitals of a conversation which had taken place between him and Mr.
Duane, a member of the House, whom he considered his enemy. Here Mr.
Duane rose, and addressing himself to the president, hoped the general
would observe order, and cease any personal observations, as he could
not, in Congress, enter into any controversy with him upon the subject
of former conversations.

Other of the members took fire; the conduct of the general was
pronounced disrespectful to the House, and unworthy of himself, and it
was moved and seconded that he be requested to withdraw. Some of the
Eastern delegates opposed the motion, and endeavored to palliate his
conduct. A wordy clamor ensued, during which the general stood, his
papers in his hand, endeavoring several times to be heard, but the
clamor increasing, he withdrew with the utmost indignation. It was then
determined that he should not again be admitted on the floor; but should
be informed that Congress were ready and willing to hear, by way of
memorial, any grievances of which he might have to complain.[27]

CHAPTER VII.

THE HIGHLAND PASSES OF THE HUDSON—GEORGE CLINTON IN COMMAND OF THE
FORTS—HIS MEASURES FOR DEFENCE—GENERALS GREENE AND KNOX EXAMINE THE
STATE OF THE FORTS—THEIR REPORT—THE GENERAL COMMAND OF THE HUDSON
OFFERED TO ARNOLD—DECLINED BY HIM—GIVEN TO PUTNAM—APPOINTMENT OF DR.
CRAIK IN THE MEDICAL DEPARTMENT—EXPEDITION PLANNED AGAINST FORT
INDEPENDENCE—BUT RELINQUISHED—WASHINGTON SHIFTS HIS CAMP TO
MIDDLEBROOK—STATE OF HIS ARMY—GENERAL HOWE CROSSES INTO THE
JERSEYS—POSITION OF THE TWO ARMIES AT MIDDLEBROOK AND BEHIND THE
RARITAN—CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN WASHINGTON AND COLONEL REED.

The Highland passes of the Hudson, always objects of anxious thought to
Washington, were especially so at this juncture. General McDougall still
commanded at Peekskill, and General George Clinton, who resided at New
Windsor, had command of the Highland forts. The latter, at the earnest
request of the New York Convention, had received from Congress the
command of brigadier-general in the Continental army. “My precarious
state of health and want of military knowledge,” writes he, “would have
rather induced me to have led a more retired life than that of the army,
had I been consulted on the occasion; but as, early in the present
contest, I laid it down as a maxim not to refuse my best, though poor
services, to my country in any way they should think proper to employ
me, I cannot refuse the honor done me in the present appointment.”[28]

He was perfectly sincere in what he said. George Clinton was one of the
soldiers of the Revolution who served from a sense of duty, not from
military inclination or a thirst for glory. A long career of public
service in various capacities illustrated his modest worth and devoted
patriotism.

When the “unhappy affair of Peekskill” had alarmed the Convention of New
York for the safety of the forts on the Highlands, Clinton, authorized
by that body, had ordered out part of the militia of Orange, Dutchess,
and Westchester counties, without waiting for Washington’s approbation
of the measure. He had strengthened, also, with anchors and cables, the
chain drawn across the river at Fort Montgomery. “Had the Convention
suffered me to have paid my whole attention to this business,” writes he
to Washington (18th April), “it would have been nearly completed by this
time.”

A few days later came word that several transports were anchored at
Dobbs’ Ferry in the Tappan Sea. It might be intended to divert attention
from a movement towards the Delaware; or to make incursions into the
country back of Morristown, seize on the passes through the mountains,
and cut off the communication between the army and the Hudson. To
frustrate such a design, Washington ordered Clinton to post as good a
number of troops from his garrison as he could spare, on the mountains
west of the river.

In the month of May, he writes to General McDougall: “The imperfect
state of the fortifications of Fort Montgomery gives me great
uneasiness, because I think, from a concurrence of circumstances, that
it begins to look as if the enemy intended to turn their view towards
the North River instead of the Delaware. I therefore desire that General
George Clinton, and yourself, will fall upon every measure to put the
fortifications in such a state that they may at least resist a sudden
attack, and keep the enemy employed till reinforcements may arrive. If
the North River is their object, they cannot accomplish it unless they
withdraw their forces from the Jerseys, and that they cannot do unknown
to us.”

On the 12th of May, General Greene received instructions from Washington
to proceed to the Highlands, and examine the state and condition of the
forts, especially Fort Montgomery; the probability of an attack by
water, the practicability of an approach by land; where and how this
could be effected, and the eminences whence the forts could be annoyed.
This done, and the opinions of the general officers present having been
consulted, he was to give such orders and make such disposition of the
troops as might appear necessary for the greater security of the passes
by land and water. When reconnoitring the Highlands in the preceding
year, Washington had remarked a wild and rugged pass on the western side
of the Hudson round Bull Hill, a rocky, forest-clad mountain, forming an
advance rampart at the entrance to Peekskill Bay. “This pass,” he
observed, “should also be attended to, _lest the enemy by a coup de main
should possess themselves of it, before a sufficient force could be
assembled to oppose them_.” Subsequent events will illustrate, though
unfortunately, the sagacity and foresight of this particular
instruction.

General Knox was associated with General Greene in this visit of
inspection. They examined the river and the passes of the Highlands in
company with Generals McDougall, George Clinton, and Anthony Wayne. The
latter, recently promoted to the rank of brigadier, had just returned
from Ticonderoga. The five generals made a joint report to Washington,
in which they recommended the completion of the obstructions in the
river already commenced. These consisted of a boom, or heavy iron chain,
across the river from Fort Montgomery to Anthony’s Nose with cables
stretched in front to break the force of any ship under way, before she
could strike it. The boom was to be protected by the guns of two ships
and two row galleys stationed just above it, and by batteries on shore.
This, it was deemed, would be sufficient to prevent the enemy’s ships
from ascending the river. If these obstructions could be rendered
effective, they did not think the enemy would attempt to operate by
land; “the passes through the Highlands being so exceedingly difficult.”

The general command of the Hudson, from the number of troops to be
assembled there, and the variety of points to be guarded, was one of the
most important in the service, and required an officer of consummate
energy, activity and judgment. It was a major-general’s command, and as
such was offered by Washington to Arnold; intending thus publicly to
manifest his opinion of his deserts, and hoping, by giving him so
important a post, to appease his irritated feelings.

Arnold, however, declined to accept it. In an interview with Washington
at Morristown, he alleged his anxiety to proceed to Philadelphia and
settle his public accounts, which were of considerable amount;
especially as reports had been circulated injurious to his character as
a man of integrity. He intended, therefore, to wait on Congress, and
request a committee of inquiry into his conduct. Beside, he did not
consider the promotion conferred on him by Congress sufficient to
obviate their previous neglect, as it did not give him the rank he had a
claim to, from seniority in the line of brigadiers. In their last
resolve respecting him, they had acknowledged him competent to the
station of major-general, and, therefore, had done away every objection
implied by their former omission. With these considerations he proceeded
to Philadelphia, bearing a letter from Washington to the President of
Congress, countenancing his complaints, and testifying to the excellence
of his military character. We may here add, that the accusations against
him were pronounced false and slanderous by the Board of War; that the
report of the board was confirmed by Congress, but that Arnold was still
left aggrieved and unredressed in point of rank.

The important command of the Hudson being declined by Arnold, was now
given to Putnam, who repaired forthwith to Peekskill. General McDougall
was requested by Washington to aid the veteran in gaining a knowledge of
the post. “You are well acquainted,” writes he, “with the old
gentleman’s temper; he is active, disinterested, and open to
conviction.”

Putnam set about promptly to carry into effect the measures of security
which Greene and Knox had recommended; especially the boom and chain at
Fort Montgomery, about which General George Clinton had busied himself.
Putnam had a peculiar fancy for river obstructions of the kind. A large
part of the New York and New England troops were stationed at this post,
not merely to guard the Hudson, but to render aid either to the Eastern
or Middle States in case of exigency.

About this time, Washington had the satisfaction of drawing near to him
his old friend and travelling companion, Dr. James Craik, the same who
had served with him in Braddock’s campaign, and had voyaged with him
down the Ohio; for whom he now procured the appointment of assistant
director-general of the Hospital department of the middle district,
which included the States between the Hudson and the Potomac. In
offering the situation to the doctor, he writes, “you know how far you
may be benefited or injured by such an appointment, and whether it is
advisable or practicable for you to quit your family and practice at
this time. I request, as a friend, that my proposing this matter to you
may have no influence upon your acceptance of it. I have no other end in
view than to serve you.” Dr. Craik, it will be found, remained his
attached and devoted friend through life.

It had been Washington’s earnest wish in the early part of the spring,
to take advantage of the inactivity of the enemy, and attempt some
“capital stroke” for the benefit of the next campaign; but the want of
troops prevented him. He now planned a night expedition for Putnam,
exactly suited to the humor of the old general. He was to descend the
Hudson in boats, surprise Fort Independence at Spyt den Duivel Creek,
capture the garrison, and sweep the road between that post and the
Highlands. Putnam was all on fire for the enterprise, when movements on
the part of the enemy, seemingly indicative of a design upon
Philadelphia, obliged Washington to abandon the project, and exert all
his vigilance in watching the hostile operations in the Jerseys.

Accordingly, towards the end of May, he broke up his cantonments at
Morristown, and shifted his camp to Middlebrook, within ten miles of
Brunswick. His whole force fit for duty was now about seven thousand
three hundred men, all from the States south of the Hudson. There were
forty-three regiments, forming ten brigades, commanded by Brigadiers
Muhlenberg, Weedon, Woodford, Scott, Smallwood, Deborre, Wayne, Dehaas,
Conway, and Maxwell. These were apportioned into five divisions of two
brigades each, under Major-generals Greene, Stephen, Sullivan, Lincoln
and Stirling. The artillery was commanded by Knox. Sullivan, with his
division, was stationed on the right at Princeton. With the rest of his
force, Washington fortified himself in a position naturally strong,
among hills, in the rear of the village of Middlebrook. His camp was, on
all sides, difficult of approach, and he rendered it still more so by
intrenchments. The high grounds about it commanded a wide view of the
country around Brunswick, the road to Philadelphia, and the course of
the Raritan, so that the enemy could make no important movement on land,
without his perceiving it.

It was now the beautiful season of the year, and the troops from their
height beheld a fertile and well cultivated country spread before them,
“painted with meadows, green fields and orchards, studded with villages,
and affording abundant supplies and forage.” A part of their duty was to
guard it from the ravage of the enemy, while they held themselves ready
to counteract his movements in every direction.

On the 31st of May, reports were brought to camp that a fleet of a
hundred sail had left New York, and stood out to sea. Whither bound, and
how freighted, was unknown. If they carried troops, their destination
might be Delaware Bay. Eighteen transports, also, had arrived at New
York, with troops in foreign uniforms. Were they those which had been in
Canada, or others immediately from Germany? Those who had reconnoitred
them with glasses could not tell. All was matter of anxious conjecture.

Lest the fleet which had put to sea should be bound farther south than
Delaware Bay, Washington instantly wrote to Patrick Henry, at that time
governor of Virginia, putting him on his guard. “Should this fleet
arrive on your coast, and the enemy attempt to penetrate the country, or
make incursions, I would recommend that the earliest opposition be made
by parties and detachments of militia, without waiting to collect a
large body. I am convinced that this would be attended with the most
salutary consequences, and that greater advantages would be derived from
it, than by deferring the opposition till you assemble a number equal to
that of the enemy.”

The troops in foreign uniforms which had landed from the transports,
proved to be Anspachers, and other German mercenaries; there were
British reinforcements also; and, what was particularly needed, a supply
of tents and camp equipage. Sir William Howe had been waiting for the
latter, and likewise until the ground should be covered with grass.[29]

The country was now in full verdure, affording “green forage” in
abundance, and all things seemed to Sir William propitious for the
opening of the campaign. Early in June, therefore, he gave up ease and
gayety, and luxurious life at New York, and crossing into the Jerseys,
set up his head-quarters at Brunswick.

As soon as Washington ascertained that Sir William’s attention was
completely turned to this quarter, he determined to strengthen his
position with all the force that could be spared from other parts, so as
to be able, in case a favorable opportunity presented, to make an attack
upon the enemy; in the mean time, he would harass them with his light
militia troops, aided by a few Continentals, so as to weaken their
numbers by continual skirmishes. With this view, he ordered General
Putnam to send down most of the Continental troops from Peekskill,
leaving only a number sufficient, in conjunction with the militia, to
guard that post against surprise. They were to proceed in three
divisions, under Generals Parsons, McDougall, and Glover, at one day’s
march distant from each other.

Arnold, in this critical juncture, had been put in command of
Philadelphia, a post which he had been induced to accept, although the
question of rank had not been adjusted to his satisfaction. His command
embraced the western bank of the Delaware with all its fords and passes,
and he took up his station there with a strong body of militia,
supported by a few Continentals, to oppose any attempt of the enemy to
cross the river. He was instructed by Washington to give him notice by
expresses, posted on the road, if any fleet should appear in Delaware
Bay; and to endeavor to concert signals with the camp of Sullivan at
Princeton, by alarm fires upon the hills.

On the night of the 13th of June, General Howe sallied forth in great
force from Brunswick, as if pushing directly for the Delaware, but his
advanced guard halted at Somerset court house, about eight or nine miles
distant. Apprised of this movement, Washington at daybreak reconnoitred
the enemy from the heights before the camp. He observed their front
halting at the court house, but a few miles distant, while troops and
artillery were grouped here and there along the road, and the rear-guard
was still at Brunswick. It was a question with Washington and his
generals, as they reconnoitred the enemy with their glasses, whether
this was a real move toward Philadelphia, or merely a lure to tempt them
down from their strong position. In this uncertainty, Washington drew
out his army in battle array along the heights, but kept quiet. In the
present state of his forces it was his plan not to risk a general
action; but, should the enemy really march toward the Delaware, to hang
heavily upon their rear. Their principal difficulty would be in crossing
that river, and there, he trusted, they would meet with spirited
opposition from the Continental troops and militia, stationed on the
western side under Arnold and Mifflin.

The British took up a strong position, having Millstone Creek on their
left, the Raritan all along their front, and their right resting on
Brunswick, and proceeded to fortify themselves with bastions.

While thus anxiously situated, Washington, on the 14th, received a
letter from Colonel Reed, his former secretary and confidential friend.
A coolness had existed on the general’s part, ever since he had unwarily
opened the satirical letter of General Lee; yet he had acted towards
Reed with his habitual highmindedness, and had recently nominated him as
general of cavalry. The latter had deeply deplored the interruption of
their once unreserved intercourse; he had long, he said, desired to have
one hour of private conversation with Washington on the subject of Lee’s
letter, but had deferred it in the hope of obtaining his own letter to
which that was an answer. In that he had been disappointed by Lee’s
captivity. On the present occasion, Reed’s heart was full, and he refers
to former times in language that is really touching:

“I am sensible, my dear sir,” writes he, “how difficult it is to regain
lost friendship; but the consciousness of never having justly forfeited
yours, and the hope that it may be in my power fully to convince you of
it, are some consolation for an event which I never think of but with
the greatest concern. In the mean time, my dear general, let me entreat
you to judge of me by realities, not by appearances; and believe that I
never entertained or expressed a sentiment incompatible with that regard
I professed for your person and character, and which, whether I shall be
so happy as to possess your future good opinion or not, I shall carry to
my grave with me.

“A late perusal of the letters you honored me with at Cambridge and New
York, last year, afforded me a melancholy pleasure. I cannot help
acknowledging myself deeply affected, in a comparison with those which I
have since received. I should not, my dear sir, have trespassed on your
time and patience at this juncture so long, but that a former letter
upon this subject I fear has miscarried; and whatever may be my future
destination and course of life, I could not support the reflection of
being thought ungrateful and insincere to a friendship which was equally
my pride and my pleasure. May God Almighty crown your virtue, my dear
and much respected general, with deserved success, and make your life as
happy and honorable to yourself as it has been useful to your country.”

The heart of Washington was moved by this appeal, and though in the
midst of military preparations, with a hostile army at hand, he detained
Colonel Reed’s messenger long enough to write a short letter in reply:
“to thank you,” said he, “as I do most sincerely, for the friendly and
affectionate sentiments contained in yours towards me, and to assure you
that I am perfectly convinced of the sincerity of them.

“True it is, I felt myself hurt by a certain letter, which appeared at
that time to be the echo of one from you; I was hurt—not because I
thought my judgment wronged by the expressions contained in it, but
because the same sentiments were not communicated immediately to myself.
The favorable manner in which your opinions, upon all occasions, had
been received, the impressions they made, and the unreserved manner in
which I wished and required them to be given, entitled me, I thought, to
your advice upon any point in which I appeared to be wanting. To meet
with any thing, then, that carried with it a complexion of withholding
that advice from me, and censuring my conduct to another, was such an
argument of disingenuity, that I was not a little mortified at it.
However, I am perfectly satisfied that matters were not as they appeared
from the letter alluded to.”

Washington was not of a distrustful spirit. From this moment, we are
told, that all estrangement disappeared, and the ancient relations of
friendly confidence between him and Colonel Reed were restored.[30] His
whole conduct throughout the affair bears evidence of his candor and
magnanimity.

CHAPTER VIII.

DEIGNED MOVEMENTS OF SIR WILLIAM HOWE—BAFFLING CAUTION OF
WASHINGTON—RUMORED INROADS FROM THE NORTH—SCHUYLER APPLIES FOR
REINFORCEMENTS—RENEWED SCHEMES OF HOWE TO DRAW WASHINGTON FROM HIS
STRONGHOLD—SKIRMISH BETWEEN CORNWALLIS AND LORD STIRLING—THE ENEMY
EVACUATE THE JERSEYS—PERPLEXITY AS TO THEIR NEXT MOVEMENT—A
HOSTILE FLEET ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN—BURGOYNE APPROACHING
TICONDEROGA—SPECULATIONS OF WASHINGTON—HIS PURPOSE OF KEEPING SIR
WILLIAM HOWE FROM ASCENDING THE HUDSON—ORDERS GEORGE CLINTON TO
CALL OUT MILITIA FROM ULSTER AND ORANGE COUNTIES—SENDS SULLIVAN
TOWARDS THE HIGHLANDS—MOVES HIS OWN CAMP BACK TO MORRISTOWN—STIR
AMONG THE SHIPPING—THEIR DESTINATION SURMISED TO BE PHILADELPHIA—A
DINNER AT HEAD-QUARTERS—ALEXANDER HAMILTON—GRAYDON’S RUEFUL
DESCRIPTION OF THE ARMY—HIS CHARACTER OF WAYNE.

The American and British armies, strongly posted, as we have shown, the
former along the heights of Middlebrook, the other beyond the Raritan,
remained four days grimly regarding each other; both waiting to be
attacked. The Jersey militia, which now turned out with alacrity,
repaired, some to Washington’s camp, others to that of Sullivan. The
latter had fallen back from Princeton, and taken a position behind the
Sourland Hills.

Howe pushed out detachments, and made several feints, as if to pass by
the American camp and march to the Delaware; but Washington was not to
be deceived. “The enemy will not move that way,” said he, “until they
have given this army a severe blow. The risk would be too great to
attempt to cross a river where they must expect to meet a formidable
opposition in front, and would have such a force as ours in their rear.”
He kept on the heights, therefore, and strengthened his intrenchments.

Baffled in these attempts to draw his cautious adversary into a general
action, Howe, on the 19th, suddenly broke up his camp, and pretended to
return with some precipitation to Brunswick, burning as he went several
valuable dwelling-houses. Washington’s light troops hovered round the
enemy as far as the Raritan and Millstone, which secured their flanks,
would permit; but the main army kept to its stronghold on the heights.

On the next day came warlike news from the North. Amesbury, a British
spy, had been seized and examined by Schuyler. Burgoyne was stated as
being arrived at Quebec to command the forces in an invasion from
Canada. While he advanced with his main force by Lake Champlain, a
detachment of British troops, Canadians and Indians, led by Sir John
Johnson, was to penetrate by Oswego to the Mohawk River, and place
itself between Fort Stanwix and Fort Edward.

If this information was correct, Ticonderoga would soon be attacked. The
force there might be sufficient for its defence, but Schuyler would have
no troops to oppose the inroad of Sir John Johnson, and he urged a
reinforcement. Washington forthwith sent orders to Putnam to procure
sloops, and hold four Massachusetts regiments in readiness to go up the
river at a moment’s warning. Still, if the information of the spy was
correct, he doubted the ability of the enemy to carry the reported plan
into effect. It did not appear that Burgoyne had brought any
reinforcements from Europe. If so, he could not move with a greater
force than five thousand men. The garrison at Ticonderoga was
sufficiently strong, according to former accounts, to hold it against an
attack. Burgoyne certainly would never leave it in his rear, and if he
invested it, he would not have a sufficient number left to send one body
to Oswego and another to cut off the communications between Fort Edward
and Fort George. Such was Washington’s reasoning in a reply to Schuyler.
In the mean time, he retained his mind unflurried by these new rumors;
keeping from his heights a vigilant eye upon General Howe.

On the 22d, Sir William again marched out of Brunswick, but this time
proceeded towards Amboy, again burning several houses on the way;
hoping, perhaps, that the sight of columns of smoke rising from a
ravaged country would irritate the Americans, and provoke an attack.
Washington sent out three brigades under General Greene to fall upon the
rear of the enemy, while Morgan hung upon their skirts with his
riflemen. At the same time the army remained paraded on the heights
ready to yield support, if necessary.

Finding that Howe had actually sent his heavy baggage and part of his
troops over to Staten Island by a bridge of boats which he had thrown
across, Washington, on the 24th, left the heights and descended to
Quibbletown (now New Market), six or seven miles on the road to Amboy,
to be nearer at hand for the protection of his advanced parties; while
Lord Stirling with his division and some light troops was at Matouchin
church, closer to the enemy’s lines, to watch their motions, and be
ready to harass them while crossing to the island.

General Howe now thought he had gained his point. Recalling those who
had crossed, he formed his troops into two columns, the right led by
Cornwallis, the left by himself, and marched back rapidly by different
routes from Amboy. He had three objects in view: to cut off the
principal advanced parties of the Americans; to come up with and bring
the main body into an engagement near Quibbletown; or that Lord
Cornwallis, making a considerable circuit to the right, should turn the
left of Washington’s position, get to the heights, take possession of
the passes, and oblige him to abandon that stronghold where he had
hitherto been so secure.[31]

Washington, however, had timely notice of his movements, and penetrating
his design, regained his fortified camp at Middlebrook, and secured the
passes of the mountains. He then detached a body of light troops under
Brigadier-general Scott, together with Morgan’s riflemen, to hang on the
flank of the enemy and watch their motions.

Cornwallis, in his circuitous march, dispersed the light parties of the
advance, but fell in with Lord Stirling’s division, strongly posted in a
woody country, and well covered by artillery judiciously disposed. A
sharp skirmish ensued, when the Americans gave way and retreated to the
hills, with the loss of a few men and three field-pieces; while the
British halted at Westfield, disappointed in the main objects of their
enterprise. They remained at Westfield until the afternoon of the 27th,
when they moved toward Spanktown (now Rahway), plundering all before
them, and, it is said, burning several houses; but pursued and harassed
the whole way by the American light troops.[32]

Perceiving that every scheme of bringing the Americans to a general
action, or at least of withdrawing them from their strongholds, was
rendered abortive by the caution and prudence of Washington, and aware
of the madness of attempting to march to the Delaware, through a hostile
country, with such a force in his rear, Sir William Howe broke up his
head-quarters at Amboy on the last of June, and crossed over to Staten
Island on the floating bridge; his troops that were encamped opposite to
Amboy struck their tents on the following day, and marched off to the
old camping ground on the Bay of New York; the ships got under way, and
moved down round the island; and it was soon apparent, that at length
the enemy had really evacuated the Jerseys.

The question now was, what would be their next move? A great stir among
the shipping seemed to indicate an expedition by water. But whither?
Circumstances occurred to perplex the question.

Scarce had the last tent been struck, and the last transport disappeared
from before Amboy, when intelligence arrived from General St. Clair,
announcing the appearance of a hostile fleet on Lake Champlain, and that
General Burgoyne with the whole Canada army was approaching Ticonderoga.
The judgment and circumspection of Washington were never more severely
put to the proof. Was this merely a diversion with a small force of
light troops and Indians, intended to occupy the attention of the
American forces in that quarter, while the main body of the army in
Canada should come round by sea, and form a junction with the army under
Howe? But General Burgoyne, in Washington’s opinion, was a man of too
much spirit and enterprise to return from England merely to execute a
plan from which no honor was to be derived. Did he really intend to
break through by the way of Ticonderoga? In that case it must be Howe’s
plan to co-operate with him. Had all the recent manœuvres of the enemy
in the Jerseys, which had appeared so enigmatical to Washington, been
merely a stratagem to amuse him until they should receive intelligence
of the movements of Burgoyne? If so, Sir William must soon throw off the
mask. His next move, in such case, would be to ascend the Hudson, seize
on the Highland passes before Washington could form a union with the
troops stationed there, and thus open the way for the junction with
Burgoyne. Should Washington, however, on such a presumption, hasten with
his troops to Peekskill, leaving General Howe on Staten Island, what
would prevent the latter from pushing to Philadelphia by South Amboy or
any other route?

Such were the perplexities and difficulties presenting themselves under
every aspect of the case, and discussed by Washington in his
correspondence with his accustomed clearness. In this dilemma he sent
Generals Parsons and Varnum with a couple of brigades in all haste to
Peekskill; and wrote to Generals George Clinton and Putnam; the former
to call out the New York militia from Orange and Ulster counties; the
latter to summon the militia from Connecticut; and as soon as such
reinforcements should be at hand, to despatch four of the strongest
Massachusetts regiments to the aid of Ticonderoga; at the same time the
expediency was suggested to General Schuyler, of having all the cattle
and vehicles removed from such parts of the country which he might think
the enemy intended to penetrate.

General Sullivan, moreover, was ordered to advance with his division
towards the Highlands as far as Pompton, while Washington moved his own
camp back to Morristown, to be ready either to push on to the Highlands,
or fall back upon his recent position at Middlebrook, according to the
movements of the enemy. “If I can keep General Howe below the
Highlands,” said he, “I think their schemes will be entirely baffled.”

Deserters from Staten Island and New York soon brought word to the camp
that transports were being fitted up with berths for horses, and taking
in three weeks’ supply of water and provender. All this indicated some
other destination than that of the Hudson. Lest an attempt on the
Eastern States should be intended, Washington sent a circular to their
governors to put them on their guard.

In the midst of his various cares, his yeoman soldiery, the Jersey
militia, were not forgotten. It was their harvest time; and the State
being evacuated, there was no immediate call for their services; he
dismissed, therefore, almost the whole of them to their homes.

Captain Graydon, whose memoirs we have heretofore had occasion to quote,
paid a visit to the camp at this juncture, in company with Colonel Miles
and Major West, all American prisoners on Long Island, but who had been
liberated on parole. Graydon remarks that, to their great surprise, they
saw no military parade upon their journey, nor any indication of martial
vigor on the part of the country. Here and there a militia man with his
contrasted colored cape and facings; doubtless some one who had received
his furlough, and was bound home to his farm. Captains, majors, and
colonels abounded in the land, but were not to be found at the head of
their men.

When he arrived at the camp, he could see nothing which deserved the
name of army. “I was told, indeed,” remarks he, “that it was much
weakened by detachments, and I was glad to find there was some cause for
the present paucity of soldiers. I could not doubt, however, that things
were going on well. The commander-in-chief and all about him were in
excellent spirits.” The three officers waited on Washington at his
marquee in the evening. In the course of conversation, he asked them
what they conceived to be the objects of General Howe. Colonel Miles
replied, a co-operation with the Northern army by means of the Hudson.
Washington acknowledged that indications and probabilities tended to
that conclusion; nevertheless, he had little doubt the object of Howe
was Philadelphia.

Graydon and his companions dined the next day at head-quarters; there
was a large party, in which were several ladies. Colonel Alexander
Hamilton, who, in the preceding month of April, had been received into
Washington’s family as aide-de-camp, presided at the head of the table,
and “acquitted himself,” writes Graydon, “with an ease, propriety, and
vivacity which gave me the most favorable impression of his talents and
accomplishments.”

We may here observe that the energy, skill, and intelligence displayed
by Hamilton throughout the last year’s campaign, whenever his limited
command gave him opportunity of evincing them, had won his entrance to
head-quarters; where his quick discernment and precocious judgment were
soon fully appreciated. Strangers were surprised to see a youth, scarce
twenty years of age, received into the implicit confidence, and admitted
into the gravest counsels, of a man like Washington. While his uncommon
talents thus commanded respect, rarely inspired by one of his years, his
juvenile appearance and buoyant spirit made him a universal favorite.
Harrison, the “old secretary,” much his senior, looked upon him with an
almost paternal eye, and regarding his diminutive size and towering
spirit, used to call him “the little lion;” while Washington would now
and then speak of him by the cherishing appellation of “my boy.”[33]

The following is Graydon’s amusing account of Wayne, whom he visited at
his quarters. “He entertained the most sovereign contempt for the enemy.
In his confident way, he affirmed that the two armies had interchanged
their original modes of warfare. That for our parts, we had thrown away
the shovel, and the British had taken it up; as they dared not face us
without the cover of an intrenchment. I made some allowance for the
fervid manner of the general, who, though unquestionably as brave a man
as any in the army, was nevertheless somewhat addicted to the vaunting
style of Marshal Villars, a man who, like himself, could fight as well
as brag.”

Graydon speaks of the motley, shabby clothing of the troops. “Even in
General Wayne himself, there was in this particular a considerable
falling off. His quondam regimentals as colonel of the 4th battalion
were, I think, blue and white, in which he had been accustomed to appear
with exemplary neatness; whereas he was now dressed in character for
Macheath or Captain Gibbet, in a dingy red coat, with a black rusty
cravat and tarnished hat.” Wayne was doubtless still rusty from his
campaigning in the north.

Graydon, during his recent captivity, had been accustomed to the sight
of British troops in the completeness of martial array, and looked with
a rueful eye on patriotism in rags. From all that he saw at the camp, he
suspected affairs were not in a prosperous train, notwithstanding the
cheerful countenances at head-quarters. There appeared to be a want of
animated co-operation both on the part of the government and the people.
“General Washington, with the little remnant of his army at Morristown,
seemed left to scuffle for liberty, like another Cato at Utica.”[34]

We will now turn to the North, and lift the curtain for a moment, to
give the reader a glance at affairs in that quarter, about which there
were such dubious rumors.

CHAPTER IX.

BRITISH INVASION FROM CANADA—THE PLAN—COMPOSITION OF THE INVADING
ARMY—SCHUYLER ON THE ALERT—HIS SPECULATIONS AS TO THE ENEMY’S
DESIGNS—BURGOYNE ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN—HIS WAR-SPEECH TO
HIS INDIAN ALLIES—SIGNS OF HIS APPROACH DESCRIED FROM
TICONDEROGA—CORRESPONDENCE ON THE SUBJECT BETWEEN ST. CLAIR, MAJOR
LIVINGSTON, AND SCHUYLER—BURGOYNE INTRENCHES NEAR TICONDEROGA—HIS
PROCLAMATION—SCHUYLER’S EXERTIONS AT ALBANY TO FORWARD
REINFORCEMENTS—HEARS THAT TICONDEROGA IS EVACUATED—MYSTERIOUS
DISAPPEARANCE OF ST. CLAIR AND HIS TROOPS—AMAZEMENT AND CONCERN OF
WASHINGTON—ORDERS REINFORCEMENTS TO SCHUYLER AT FORT EDWARD, AND TO
PUTNAM AT PEEKSKILL—ADVANCES WITH HIS MAIN ARMY TO THE CLOVE—HIS
HOPEFUL SPIRIT MANIFESTED.

The armament advancing against Ticonderoga, of which General St. Clair
had given intelligence, was not a mere diversion, but a regular
invasion; the plan of which had been devised by the king, Lord George
Germain, and General Burgoyne the latter having returned to England from
Canada in the preceding year. The junction of the two armies,—that in
Canada and that under General Howe in New York,—was considered the
speediest mode of quelling the rebellion; and as the security and good
government of Canada required the presence of Governor Sir Guy Carleton,
three thousand men were to remain there with him: the residue of the
army was to be employed upon two expeditions; the one under General
Burgoyne, who was to force his way to Albany, the other under
Lieutenant-colonel St. Leger, who was to make a diversion on the Mohawk
River.

The invading army was composed of three thousand seven hundred and
twenty-four British rank and file, three thousand sixteen Germans,
mostly Brunswickers, two hundred and fifty Canadians, and four hundred
Indians; beside these there were four hundred and seventy-three
artillery men, in all nearly eight thousand men. The army was admirably
appointed. Its brass train of artillery was extolled as perhaps the
finest ever allotted to an army of the size. General Phillips, who
commanded the artillery, had gained great reputation in the wars in
Germany. Brigadiers-general Fraser, Powel, and Hamilton, were also
officers of distinguished merit. So was Major-general the Baron
Riedesel, a Brunswicker, who commanded the German troops.

While Burgoyne with the main force proceeded from St. Johns, Colonel St.
Leger, with a detachment of regulars and Canadians about seven hundred
strong, was to land at Oswego, and, guided by Sir John Johnson at the
head of his loyalist volunteers, tory refugees from his former
neighborhood, and a body of Indians, was to enter the Mohawk country,
draw the attention of General Schuyler in that direction, attack Fort
Stanwix, and, having ravaged the valley of the Mohawk, rejoin Burgoyne
at Albany; where it was expected they would make a triumphant junction
with the army of Sir William Howe.

General Burgoyne left St. Johns on the 16th of June. Some idea may be
formed of his buoyant anticipation of a triumphant progress through the
country, by the manifold and lumbering appurtenances of a European camp
with which his army was encumbered. In this respect he had committed the
same error in his campaign through a wilderness of lakes and forests,
that had once embarrassed the unfortunate Braddock in his march across
the mountains of Virginia.

Schuyler was uncertain as to the plans and force of the enemy. If
information gathered from scouts and a captured spy might be relied on,
Ticonderoga would soon be attacked; but he trusted the garrison was
sufficient to maintain it. This information he transmitted to Washington
from Fort Edward on the 16th, the very day that Burgoyne embarked at St.
Johns.

On the following day Schuyler was at Ticonderoga. The works were not in
such a state of forwardness as he had anticipated, owing to the tardy
arrival of troops, and the want of a sufficient number of artificers.
The works in question related chiefly to Mount Independence, a high
circular hill on the east side of the lake, immediately opposite to the
old fort, and considered the most defensible. A star fort with pickets
crowned the summit of the hill, which was table land; half way down the
side of a hill was a battery, and at its foot were strongly intrenched
works well mounted with cannon. Here the French General de Fermois, who
had charge of this fort, was posted.

As this part of Lake Champlain is narrow, a connection was kept up
between the two forts by a floating bridge, supported on twenty-two
sunken piers in caissons, formed of very strong timber. Between the
piers were separate floats, fifty feet long and twelve feet wide,
strongly connected by iron chains and rivets. On the north side of the
bridge was a boom, composed of large pieces of timber, secured by
riveted bolts, and beside this was a double iron chain with links an
inch and a half square. The bridge, boom, and chain were four hundred
yards in length. This immense work, the labor of months, on which no
expense had been spared, was intended, while it afforded a communication
between the two forts, to protect the upper part of the lake,
presenting, under cover of their guns, a barrier, which it was presumed
no hostile ship would be able to break through.

Having noted the state of affairs and the wants of the garrison,
Schuyler hastened to Fort George, whence he sent on provisions for
upwards of sixty days; and from the banks of the Hudson additional
carpenters and working cattle. “Business will now go on in better train,
and I hope with much more spirit,” writes he to Congress; “and I trust
we shall still be able to put every thing in such order as to give the
enemy a good reception, and, I hope a repulse, should they attempt a
real attack, which I conjecture will not be soon, if at all; although I
expect they will approach with their fleet to keep us in alarm, and to
draw our attention from other quarters where they may mean a real
attack.”

His idea was that, while their fleet and a small body of troops might
appear before Ticonderoga, and keep up continual alarms, the main army
might march from St. Francois or St. Johns towards the Connecticut
River, and make an attempt on the Eastern States. “A manœuvre of this
kind,” observes he, “would be in General Burgoyne’s way, and, if
successful, would be attended with much honor to him. * * * * I am the
more confirmed in this conjecture, as the enemy cannot be ignorant how
very difficult, if not impossible, it will be for them to penetrate to
Albany, unless in losing Ticonderoga we should lose not only all our
cannon, but most of the army designed for this department.”

In the mean time, Burgoyne, with his amphibious and semibarbarous
armament, was advancing up the lake. On the 21st of June he encamped at
the river Boquet, several miles north of Crown Point; here he gave a war
feast to his savage allies, and made them a speech in that pompous and
half poetical vein in which it is the absurd practice to address our
savages, and which is commonly reduced to flat prose by their
interpreters. At the same time he was strenuous in enjoining humanity
toward prisoners, dwelling on the difference between ordinary wars
carried on against a common enemy, and this against a country in
rebellion, where the hostile parties were of the same blood, and loyal
subjects of the crown might be confounded with the rebellious. It was a
speech intended to excite their ardor, but restrain their cruelty; a
difficult medium to attain with Indian warriors.

The garrison at Ticonderoga, meanwhile, were anxiously on the look-out.
Their fortress, built on a hill, commanded an extensive prospect over
the bright and beautiful lake and its surrounding forests, but there
were long points and promontories at a distance to intercept the view.

By the 24th, scouts began to bring in word of the approaching foe. Bark
canoes had been seen filled with white men and savages. Then three
vessels under sail, and one at anchor, above Split Rock, and behind it
the radeau Thunderer, noted in the last year’s naval fight. Anon came
word of encampments sufficient for a large body of troops, on both sides
of Gilliland’s Creek, with bateaux plying about its waters, and painted
warriors gliding about in canoes; while a number of smokes rising out of
the forest at a distance beyond, gave signs of an Indian camp.

St. Clair wrote word of all this to Schuyler, and that it was supposed
the enemy were waiting the arrival of more force; he did not, however,
think they intended to attack, but to harass, for the purpose of giving
confidence to the Indians.

Schuyler transmitted a copy of St. Clair’s letter to Washington. “If the
enemy’s object is not to attack Ticonderoga,” writes he, “I suspect
their movement is intended to cover an attempt on New Hampshire, or the
Mohawk River, or to cut off the communication between Fort Edward and
Fort George, or perhaps all three, the more to distract us and divide
our force.” He urged Washington for reinforcements as soon as possible.
At the same time he wrote to St. Clair, to keep scouts on the east side
of the lake near the road leading from St. Johns to New Hampshire, and
on the west, on the road leading to the north branch of the Hudson. This
done, he hastened to Albany to forward reinforcements and bring up the
militia.

While there, he received word from St. Clair, that the enemy’s fleet and
army were arrived at Crown Point, and had sent off detachments, one up
Otter Creek to cut off the communication by Skenesborough; and another
on the west side of the lake to cut off Fort George. It was evident a
real attack on Ticonderoga was intended. Claims for assistance came
hurrying on from other quarters. A large force (St. Leger’s) was said to
be arrived at Oswego, and Sir John Johnson with his myrmidons on his way
to attack Fort Schuyler, the garrison of which was weak and poorly
supplied with cannon.

Schuyler bestirs himself with his usual zeal amid the thickening alarms.
He writes urgent letters to the committee of safety of New York, to
General Putnam at Peekskill, to the Governor of Connecticut, to the
President of Massachusetts, to the committee of Berkshire, and lastly to
Washington, stating the impending dangers and imploring reinforcements.
He exhorts General Herkimer to keep the militia of Tryon County in
readiness to protect the western frontier and to check the inroad of Sir
John Johnson, and he assures St. Clair that he will move to his aid with
the militia of New York, as soon as he can collect them.

Dangers accumulate at Ticonderoga according to advices from St. Clair
(28th). Seven of the enemy’s vessels are lying at Crown Point; the rest
of their fleet is probably but a little lower down. Morning guns are
heard distinctly at various places. Some troops have debarked and
encamped at Chimney Point. There is no prospect, he says, of being able
to defend Ticonderoga unless militia come in, and he has thought of
calling in those from Berkshire. “Should the enemy invest and blockade
us,” writes he, “we are infallibly ruined; we shall be obliged to
abandon this side (of the lake), and then they will soon force the other
from us, nor do I see that a retreat will in any shape be practicable.
Every thing, however, shall be done that is practicable to frustrate the
enemy’s designs; but what can be expected from troops ill armed, naked,
and unaccoutred?”

Schuyler’s aide-de-camp, Major Livingston,[35] who had been detained at
Ticonderoga by indisposition, writes to him (June 30th) in a different
vein, and presents a young man’s view of affairs.

“The enemy, after giving us several alarms, made their appearance early
this morning off Three Mile Point, in eighteen gunboats, and about nine
landed a party of two or three hundred Indians and Canadians. These soon
fell in with a scout from us, but being superior in number, obliged them
to retreat, though without any loss on our side. The Indians then
marched to the front of the French lines, drove in a picket guard, and
came so near as to wound two men who were standing behind the works.
They have stopped the communication between this and Lake George.

“We have a fair view of their boats, but cannot see that they have
brought many regulars with them. At least the number of red coats in
them is very small. The wind having been contrary for several days, has
prevented their fleet from coming up. The first fair breeze I shall
expect to see them. Many bets are depending that we shall be attacked in
the course of this week. Our troops are determined, and in great
spirits. They wish to be permitted to drive the savages from Three Mile
Point, but General St. Clair chooses to act on the sure side, and risk
nothing. The few alarms we have had have been of great service in making
the men alert and vigilant; but I am afraid the enemy will repeat them
so frequently as to throw them into their former indolence and
inattention. General St. Clair has taken the precaution to move most of
the stores to the mount [Independence]. This moment two ships and as
many sloops have hove in sight. The spirits of the men seem to increase
in proportion to the number of the enemy.

“I cannot but esteem myself fortunate that indisposition prevented my
returning with you, as it has given me an opportunity of being present
at a battle, in which I promise myself the pleasure of seeing our army
flushed with victory.”[36]

The enemy came advancing up the lake on the 30th, their main body under
Burgoyne on the west side, the German reserve under Baron Riedesel on
the east; communication being maintained by frigates and gunboats,
which, in a manner, kept pace between them. It was a magnificent array
of warlike means; and the sound of drum and trumpet along the shores,
and now and then the thundering of a cannon from the ships, were
singularly in contrast with the usual silence of a region little better
than a wilderness.

On the 1st of July, Burgoyne encamped four miles north of Ticonderoga,
and began to intrench, and to throw a boom across the lake. His advanced
guard under General Fraser took post at Three Mile Point, and the ships
anchored just out of gunshot of the fort.

Here he issued a proclamation still more magniloquent than his speech to
the Indians, denouncing woe to all who should persist in rebellion, and
laying particular stress upon his means, with the aid of the Indians, to
overtake the hardiest enemies of Great Britain and America wherever they
might lurk.

General St. Clair was a gallant Scotchman, who had seen service in the
old French war as well as in this, and beheld the force arrayed against
him without dismay. It is true his garrison was not so numerous as it
had been represented to Washington, not exceeding three thousand five
hundred men, of whom nine hundred were militia. They were badly equipped
also, and few had bayonets; yet, as Major Livingston reported, they were
in good heart. St. Clair confided, however, in the strength of his
position and the works which had been constructed in connection with it,
and trusted he should be able to resist any attempt to take it by storm.

Schuyler at this time was at Albany, sending up reinforcements of
Continental troops and militia, and awaiting the arrival of further
reinforcements, for which sloops had been sent down to Peekskill.

He was endeavoring also to provide for the security of the department in
other quarters. The savages had been scalping in the neighborhood of
Fort Schuyler; a set of renegade Indians were harassing the settlements
on the Susquehanna; and the threatenings of Brant, the famous Indian
chief, and the prospect of a British inroad by the way of Oswego, had
spread terror through Tryon County, the inhabitants of which called upon
him for support.

“The enemy are harassing us in every quarter of this department,” writes
he. “I am however, happily, thank God, in full health and spirits to
enable me to extend my attention to those various quarters, and hope we
shall all do well.”[37]

The enemy’s manœuvre of intrenching themselves and throwing a boom
across the lake, of which St. Clair informed him, made him doubt of
their being in great force, or intending a serious attack. “I shall have
great hopes,” writes he to St. Clair, “if General Burgoyne continues in
the vicinity of your post until we get up, and dares risk an engagement,
we shall give a good account of him.”[38]

To General Herkimer, who commanded the militia in Tryon County, he
writes in the same encouraging strain. “From intelligence which I have
just now received from Ticonderoga, I am not very apprehensive that any
great effort will be made against the Mohawk River. I shall, however,
keep a watchful eye to the preservation of the western quarter, and have
therefore directed Colonel Van Schaick to remain in Tryon County with
the [Continental] troops under his command.

“If we act with vigor and spirit, we have nothing to fear; but if once
despondency takes place, the worst consequences are to be apprehended.
It is, therefore, incumbent on you to labor to keep up the spirits of
the people.”

In the mean time he awaited the arrival of the troops from Peekskill
with impatience. On the 5th they had not appeared. “The moment they do,”
writes he, “I shall move with them. If they do not arrive by to-morrow,
I go without them, and will do the best I can with the militia.” He
actually did set out at 8 o’clock on the morning of the 7th.

Such was the state of affairs in the north, of which Washington from
time to time had been informed. An attack on Ticonderoga appeared to be
impending; but as the garrison was in good heart, the commander
resolute, and troops were on the way to reinforce him, a spirited, and
perhaps successful resistance was anticipated by Washington. His
surprise may therefore be imagined, on receiving a letter from Schuyler
dated July 7th, conveying the astounding intelligence that Ticonderoga
was evacuated!

Schuyler had just received the news at Stillwater on the Hudson when on
his way with reinforcements for the fortress. The first account was so
vague that Washington hoped it might prove incorrect. It was confirmed
by another letter from Schuyler, dated on the 9th at Fort Edward. A part
of the garrison had been pursued by a detachment of the enemy as far as
Fort Anne in that neighborhood, where the latter had been repulsed; as
to St. Clair himself and the main part of his forces, they had thrown
themselves into the forest, and nothing was known what had become of
them!

“I am here,” writes Schuyler, “at the head of a handful of men, not
above fifteen hundred, with little ammunition, not above five rounds to
a man, having neither balls, nor lead to make any. The country is in the
deepest consternation; no carriages to remove the stores from Fort
George, which I expect every moment to hear is attacked; and what adds
to my distress is, that a report prevails that I had given orders for
the evacuation of Ticonderoga.”

Washington was totally at a loss to account for St. Clair’s movement. To
abandon a fortress which he had recently pronounced so defensible; and
to abandon it apparently without firing a gun! and then the strange
uncertainty as to his subsequent fortunes, and the whereabouts of
himself and the main body of his troops! “The affair,” writes
Washington, “is so mysterious that it baffles even conjecture.”

His first attention was to supply the wants of General Schuyler. An
express was sent to Springfield for musket cartridges, gunpowder, lead,
and cartridge papers. Ten pieces of artillery with harness and proper
officers were to be forwarded from Peekskill, as well as intrenching
tools. Of tents he had none to furnish, neither could heavy cannon be
spared from the defence of the Highlands.

Six hundred recruits, on their march from Massachusetts to Peekskill,
were ordered to repair to the reinforcement of Schuyler; this was all
the force that Washington could venture at this moment to send to his
aid; but this addition to his troops, supposing those under St. Clair
should have come in, and any number of militia have turned out, would
probably form an army equal, if not superior, to that said to be under
Burgoyne. Beside, it was Washington’s idea that the latter would suspend
his operations until General Howe should make a movement in concert.
Supposing that movement would be an immediate attempt against the
Highlands, he ordered Sullivan with his division to Peekskill to
reinforce General Putnam. At the same time he advanced with his main
army to Pompton, and thence to the Clove, a rugged defile through the
Highlands on the west side of the Hudson. Here he encamped within
eighteen miles of the river, to watch, and be at hand to oppose the
designs of Sir William Howe, whatever might be their direction.

On the morning of the 14th came another letter from Schuyler, dated Fort
Edward, July 10th. He had that morning received the first tidings of St.
Clair and his missing troops, and of their being fifty miles east of
him.

Washington hailed the intelligence with that hopeful spirit which
improved every ray of light in the darkest moments. “I am happy to
hear,” writes he, “that General St. Clair and his army are not in the
hands of the enemy. I really feared they had become prisoners. The
evacuation of Ticonderoga and Mount Independence is an event of chagrin
and surprise not apprehended, nor within the compass of my
reasoning. * * * This stroke is severe indeed, and has distressed us
much. But, notwithstanding things at present have a dark and gloomy
aspect, I hope a spirited opposition will check the progress of General
Burgoyne’s army, and that the confidence derived from his success, will
hurry him into measures that will in their consequences be favorable to
us. _We should never despair. Our situation before has been unpromising
and has changed for the better, so I trust it will again. If new
difficulties arise, we must only put forth new exertions, and proportion
our efforts to the exigency of the times._”

His spirit of candor and moderation is evinced in another letter. “I
will not condemn or even pass censure upon any officer unheard, but I
think it a duty which General St. Clair owes to his own character, to
insist upon an opportunity of giving his reasons for his sudden
evacuation of a post, which, but a few days before, he, by his own
letters, thought tenable, at least for a while. People at a distance are
apt to form wrong conjectures, and if General St. Clair has good reasons
for the step he has taken, I think the sooner he justifies himself the
better. I have mentioned these matters, because he may not know that his
conduct is looked upon as very unaccountable by all ranks of people in
this part of the country. If he is reprehensible, the public have an
undoubted right to call for that justice which is due from an officer,
who betrays or gives up his post in an unwarrantable manner.”[39]

Having stated the various measures adopted by Washington for the aid of
the Northern army at this critical juncture, we will leave him at his
encampment in the Clove, anxiously watching the movements of the fleet
and the lower army, while we turn to the north, to explain the
mysterious retreat of General St. Clair.

CHAPTER X.

PARTICULARS OF THE EVACUATION—INDIAN SCOUTS IN THE VICINITY OF THE
FORT—OUTPOSTS ABANDONED BY ST. CLAIR—BURGOYNE SECURES MOUNT
HOPE—INVESTS THE FORTRESS—SEIZES AND OCCUPIES SUGAR HILL—THE FORTS
OVERLOOKED AND IN IMMINENT PERIL—DETERMINATION TO EVACUATE—PLAN OF
RETREAT—PART OF THE GARRISON DEPART FOR SKENESBOROUGH IN THE
FLOTILLA—ST. CLAIR CROSSES WITH THE REST TO FORT INDEPENDENCE—A
CONFLAGRATION REVEALS HIS RETREAT—THE BRITISH CAMP AROUSED—FRASER
PURSUES ST. CLAIR—BURGOYNE WITH HIS SQUADRON MAKES AFTER THE
FLOTILLA—PART OF THE FUGITIVES OVERTAKEN—FLIGHT OF THE REMAINDER TO
FORT ANNE—SKIRMISH OF COLONEL LONG—RETREAT TO FORT EDWARD—ST. CLAIR
AT CASTLETON—ATTACK OF HIS REAR-GUARD—FALL OF COLONEL
FRANCIS—DESERTION OF COLONEL HALE—ST. CLAIR REACHES FORT
EDWARD—CONSTERNATION OF THE COUNTRY—EXULTATION OF THE BRITISH.

In the accounts given in the preceding chapter of the approach of
Burgoyne to Ticonderoga, it was stated that he had encamped four miles
north of the fortress, and intrenched himself. On the 2d of July, Indian
scouts made their appearance in the vicinity of a block-house and some
outworks about the strait or channel leading to Lake George. As General
St. Clair did not think the garrison sufficient to defend all the
outposts, these works with some adjacent saw-mills were set on fire and
abandoned. The extreme left of Ticonderoga was weak, and might easily be
turned; a post had therefore been established in the preceding year,
nearly half a mile in advance of the old French lines, on an eminence to
the north of them. General St. Clair, through singular remissness, had
neglected to secure it. Burgoyne soon discovered this neglect, and
hastened to detach Generals Phillips and Fraser with a body of infantry
and light artillery, to take possession of this post. They did so
without opposition. Heavy guns were mounted upon it; Fraser’s whole
corps was stationed there; the post commanded the communication by land
and water with Lake George, so as to cut off all supplies from that
quarter. In fact, such were the advantages expected from this post, thus
neglected by St. Clair, that the British gave it the significant name of
Mount Hope.

The enemy now proceeded gradually to invest Ticonderoga. A line of
troops was drawn from the western part of Mount Hope round to Three Mile
Point, where General Fraser was posted with the advance guard, while
General Riedesel encamped with the German reserve in a parallel line, on
the opposite side of Lake Champlain, at the foot of Mount Independence.
For two days the enemy occupied themselves in making their advances and
securing these positions, regardless of a cannonade kept up by the
American batteries.

St. Clair began to apprehend that a regular siege was intended, which
would be more difficult to withstand than a direct assault; he kept up a
resolute aspect, however, and went about among his troops, encouraging
them with the hope of a successful resistance, but enjoining incessant
vigilance, and punctual attendance at the alarm posts at morning and
evening roll-call.

With all the pains and expense lavished by the Americans to render these
works impregnable, they had strangely neglected the master key by which
they were all commanded. This was Sugar Hill, a rugged height, the
termination of a mountain ridge which separates Lake Champlain from Lake
George. It stood to the south of Ticonderoga, beyond the narrow channel
which connected the two lakes, and rose precipitously from the waters of
Champlain to the height of six hundred feet. It had been pronounced by
the Americans too distant to be dangerous. Colonel Trumbull, some time
an aide-de-camp to Washington, and subsequently an adjutant, had proved
the contrary in the preceding year, by throwing a shot from a
six-pounder in the fort nearly to the summit. It was then pronounced
inaccessible to an enemy. This Trumbull had likewise proved to be an
error, by clambering with Arnold and Wayne to the top, whence they
perceived that a practicable road for artillery might easily and readily
be made. Trumbull had insisted that this was the true point for the
fort, commanding the neighboring heights, the narrow parts of both
lakes, and the communication between. A small, but strong fort here,
with twenty-five heavy guns and five hundred men, would be as efficient
as one hundred guns and ten thousand men on the extensive works of
Ticonderoga.[40] His suggestions were disregarded. Their wisdom was now
to be proved.

The British General Phillips, on taking his position, had regarded the
hill with a practised eye. He caused it to be reconnoitred by a skilful
engineer. The report was, that it overlooked, and had the entire command
of Fort Ticonderoga and Fort Independence; being about fourteen hundred
yards from the former, and fifteen hundred from the latter; that the
ground could be levelled for cannon, and a road cut up the defiles of
the mountain in four and twenty hours.

Measures were instantly taken to plant a battery on that height. While
the American garrisons were entirely engaged in a different direction,
cannonading Mount Hope and the British lines without material effect,
and without provoking a reply; the British troops were busy throughout
the day and night cutting a road through rocks and trees and up rugged
defiles. Guns, ammunition, and stores, all were carried up the hill in
the night; the cannon were hauled up from tree to tree, and before
morning the ground was levelled for the battery on which they were to be
mounted. To this work, thus achieved by a coup de main, they gave the
name of Fort Defiance.

On the fifth of July, to their astonishment and consternation, the
garrison beheld a legion of red coats on the summit of this hill,
constructing works which must soon lay the fortress at their mercy.

In this sudden and appalling emergency, General St. Clair called a
council of war. What was to be done? The batteries from this new fort
would probably be open the next day: by that time Ticonderoga might be
completely invested, and the whole garrison exposed to capture. They had
not force sufficient for one half the works, and General Schuyler,
supposed to be at Albany, could afford them no relief. The danger was
imminent; delay might prove fatal. It was unanimously determined to
evacuate both Ticonderoga and Mount Independence that very night, and
retreat to Skenesborough (now Whitehall), at the upper part of the lake,
about thirty miles distant, where there was a stockaded fort. The main
body of the army, led by General St. Clair, were to cross to Mount
Independence and push for Skenesborough by land, taking a circuitous
route through the woods on the east side of the lake, by the way of
Castleton.

The cannon, stores and provisions, together with the wounded and the
women, were to be embarked on board of two hundred bateaux, and
conducted to the upper extremity of the lake, by Colonel Long with six
hundred men; two hundred of whom in five armed galleys were to form a
rear-guard.

It was now three o’clock in the afternoon; yet all the preparations were
to be made for the coming night, and that with as little bustle and
movement as possible; for they were overlooked by Fort Defiance, and
their intentions might be suspected. Every thing, therefore, was done
quietly, but alertly; in the mean time, to amuse the enemy, a cannonade
was kept up every half hour toward the new battery on the hill. As soon
as the evening closed, and their movements could not be discovered, they
began in all haste to load the boats. Such of the cannon as could not be
taken were ordered to be spiked. It would not do to knock off their
trunnions, lest the noise should awaken suspicions. In the hurry several
were left uninjured. The lights in the garrison being previously
extinguished, their tents were struck and put on board of the boats, and
the women and the sick embarked. Every thing was conducted with such
silence and address, that, although it was a moonlight night, the
flotilla departed undiscovered; and was soon under the shadows of
mountains and overhanging forests.

The retreat by land was not conducted with equal discretion and mystery.
General St. Clair had crossed over the bridge to the Vermont side of the
lake by three o’clock in the morning, and set forward with his advance
through the woods toward Hubbardton; but, before the rear-guard under
Colonel Francis got in motion, the house at Fort Independence, which had
been occupied by the French General de Fermois, was set on fire—by his
orders, it is said, though we are loth to charge him with such
indiscretion; such gross and wanton violation of the plan of retreat.
The consequences were disastrous. The British sentries at Mount Hope
were astonished by a conflagration suddenly lighting up Mount
Independence, and revealing the American troops in full retreat; for the
rear-guard, disconcerted by this sudden exposure, pressed forward for
the woods in the utmost haste and confusion.

The drums beat to arms in the British camp. Alarm guns were fired from
Mount Hope: General Fraser dashed into Ticonderoga with his pickets,
giving orders for his brigade to arm in all haste and follow. By
daybreak he had hoisted the British flag over the deserted fortress;
before sunrise he had passed the bridge, and was in full pursuit of the
American rear-guard. Burgoyne was roused from his morning slumbers on
board of the frigate Royal George, by the alarm guns from Fort Hope, and
a message from General Fraser, announcing the double retreat of the
Americans by land and water. From the quarter-deck of the frigate he
soon had confirmation of the news. The British colors were flying on
Fort Ticonderoga, and Fraser’s troops were glittering on the opposite
shore.

Burgoyne’s measures were prompt. General Riedesel was ordered to follow
and support Fraser with a part of the German troops; garrisons were
thrown into Ticonderoga and Mount Independence; the main part of the
army was embarked on board of the frigates and gunboats; the floating
bridge with its boom and chain, which had cost months to construct, was
broken through by nine o’clock; when Burgoyne set out with his squadron
in pursuit of the flotilla.

We left the latter making its retreat on the preceding evening towards
Skenesborough. The lake above Ticonderoga becomes so narrow that, in
those times, it was frequently called South River. Its beautiful waters
wound among mountains covered with primeval forests. The bateaux, deeply
laden, made their way slowly in a lengthened line; sometimes under the
shadows of the mountains, sometimes in the gleam of moonlight. The
rear-guard of armed galleys followed at wary distance. No immediate
pursuit, however, was apprehended. The floating bridge was considered an
effectual impediment to the enemy’s fleet. Gayety, therefore, prevailed
among the fugitives. They exulted in the secrecy and dexterity with
which they had managed their retreat, and amused themselves with the
idea of what would be the astonishment of the enemy at daybreak. The
officers regaled merrily on the stores saved from Ticonderoga, and
knocking off the necks of bottles of wine, drank a pleasant _reveille_
to General Burgoyne.

About three o’clock in the afternoon of the succeeding day, the heavily
laden bateaux arrived at Skenesborough. The disembarkation had scarcely
commenced when the thundering of artillery was heard from below. Could
the enemy be at hand? It was even so. The British gunboats having pushed
on in advance of the frigates, had overtaken and were firing upon the
galleys. The latter defended themselves for a while, but at length two
struck, and three were blown up. The fugitives from them brought word
that the British ships not being able to come up, troops and Indians
were landing from them and scrambling up the hills; intending to get in
the rear of the fort and cut off all retreat.

All now was consternation and confusion. The bateaux, the storehouses,
the fort, the mill were all set on fire, and a general flight took place
toward Fort Anne, about twelve miles distant. Some made their way in
boats up Wood Creek, a winding stream. The main body under Colonel Long,
retreated by a narrow defile cut through the woods; harassed all night
by alarms that the Indians were close in pursuit. Both parties reached
Fort Anne by daybreak. It was a small picketed fort, near the junction
of Wood Creek and East Creek, about sixteen miles from Fort Edward.
General Schuyler arrived at the latter place on the following day. The
number of troops with him was inconsiderable, but, hearing of Colonel
Long’s situation, he immediately sent him a small reinforcement, with
provisions and ammunition, and urged him to maintain his post
resolutely.

On the same day Colonel Long’s scouts brought in word that there were
British red coats approaching. They were in fact a regiment under
Lieutenant-colonel Hill, detached from Skenesborough by Burgoyne in
pursuit of the fugitives. Long sallied forth to meet them; posting
himself at a rocky defile, where there was a narrow pathway along the
border of Wood Creek. As the enemy advanced he opened a heavy fire upon
them in front, while a part of his troops crossing and recrossing the
creek, and availing themselves of their knowledge of the ground, kept up
a shifting attack from the woods in flank and rear. Apprehensive of
being surrounded, the British took post upon a high hill to their right,
where they were warmly besieged for nearly two hours, and, according to
their own account, would certainly have been forced, had not some of
their Indian allies arrived and set up the much-dreaded war-whoop. It
was answered with three cheers by the British upon the hill. This
changed the fortune of the day. The Americans had nearly expended their
ammunition, and had not enough left to cope with this new enemy. They
retreated, therefore, to Fort Anne, carrying with them a number of
prisoners, among whom were a captain and surgeon. Supposing the troops
under Colonel Hill an advance guard of Burgoyne’s army, they set fire to
the fort and pushed on to fort Edward; where they gave the alarm that
the main force of the enemy was close after them, and that no one knew
what had become of General St. Clair and the troops who had retreated
with him. We shall now clear up the mystery of his movements.

His retreat through the woods from Mount Independence continued the
first day until night, when he arrived at Castleton, thirty miles from
Ticonderoga. His rear-guard halted about six miles short, at Hubbardton,
to await the arrival of stragglers. It was composed of three regiments,
under Colonels Seth Warner, Francis and Hale; in all about thirteen
hundred men.

Early the next morning, a sultry morning of July, while they were taking
their breakfast, they were startled by the report of fire-arms. Their
sentries had discharged their muskets, and came running in with word
that the enemy were at hand.

It was General Fraser, with his advance of eight hundred and fifty men,
who had pressed forward in the latter part of the night, and now
attacked the Americans with great spirit, notwithstanding their
superiority in numbers; in fact, he expected to be promptly reinforced
by Riedesel and his Germans. The Americans met the British with great
spirit; but at the very commencement of the action, Colonel Hale, with a
detachment placed under his command to protect the rear, gave way,
leaving Warner and Francis with but seven hundred men to bear the brunt
of the battle. These posted themselves behind logs and trees in
‘backwood’ style, whence they kept up a destructive fire, and were
evidently gaining the advantage, when General Riedesel came pressing
into the action with his German troops; drums beating and colors flying.
There was now an impetuous charge with the bayonet. Colonel Francis was
among the first who fell, gallantly fighting at the head of his men. The
Americans, thinking the whole German force upon them, gave way and fled,
leaving the ground covered with their dead and wounded. Many others who
had been wounded perished in the woods, where they had taken refuge.
Their whole loss in killed, wounded and taken, was upwards of three
hundred; that of the enemy one hundred and eighty-three. Several
officers were lost on both sides. Among those wounded of the British was
Major Ackland of the grenadiers, of whose further fortunes in the war we
shall have to speak hereafter.

The noise of the firing when the action commenced had reached General
St. Clair at Castleton. He immediately sent orders to two militia
regiments which were in his rear, and within two miles of the battle
ground, to hasten to the assistance of his rear-guard. They refused to
obey, and hurried forward to Castleton. At this juncture St. Clair
received information of Burgoyne’s arrival at Skenesborough, and the
destruction of the American works there: fearing to be intercepted at
Fort Anne, he immediately changed his route, struck into the woods on
his left, and directed his march to Rutland, leaving word for Warner to
follow him. The latter overtook him two days afterwards, with his
shattered force reduced to ninety men. As to Colonel Hale, who had
pressed towards Castleton at the beginning of the action, he and his men
were overtaken the same day by the enemy, and the whole party captured,
without making any fight. It has been alleged in his excuse, with
apparent justice, that he and a large portion of his men were in feeble
health, and unfit for action; for his own part, he died while yet a
prisoner, and never had the opportunity which he sought, to vindicate
himself before a court-martial.

On the 12th St. Clair reached Fort Edward, his troops haggard and
exhausted by their long retreat through the woods. Such is the story of
the catastrophe at Fort Ticonderoga, which caused so much surprise and
concern to Washington, and of the seven days’ mysterious disappearance
of St. Clair, which kept every one in the most painful suspense.

The loss of artillery, ammunition, provisions and stores, in consequence
of the evacuation of these northern posts, was prodigious; but the worst
effect was the consternation spread throughout the country. A panic
prevailed at Albany, the people running about as if distracted, sending
off their goods and furniture.[41] The great barriers of the North, it
was said, were broken through, and there was nothing to check the
triumphant career of the enemy.

The invading army, both officers and men, according to a British writer
of the time, “were highly elated with their fortune, and deemed that and
their prowess to be irresistible. They regarded their enemy with the
greatest contempt, and considered their own toils to be nearly at an
end, and Albany already in their hands.”

In England too, according to the same author, the joy and exultation
were extreme; not only at court, but with all those who hoped or wished
the unqualified subjugation and unconditional submission of the
colonies. “The loss in reputation was greater to the Americans,” adds
he, “and capable of more fatal consequences, than that of ground, of
posts, of artillery, or of men. All the contemptuous and most degrading
charges which had been made by their enemies, of their wanting the
resolution and abilities of men, even in defence of what was dear to
them, were now repeated and believed.” * * * “It was not difficult to
diffuse an opinion that the war, in effect, was over, and that any
further resistance would render the terms of their submission worse.
Such,” he concludes, “were some of the immediate effects of the loss of
those grand keys of North America, Ticonderoga and the lakes.”[42]

CHAPTER XI.

CAPTURE OF GENERAL PRESCOTT—PROFFERED IN EXCHANGE FOR
LEE—REINFORCEMENTS TO SCHUYLER—ARNOLD SENT TO THE NORTH—EASTERN
MILITIA TO REPAIR TO SARATOGA—FURTHER REINFORCEMENTS—GENERALS
LINCOLN AND ARNOLD RECOMMENDED FOR PARTICULAR SERVICES—WASHINGTON’S
MEASURES AND SUGGESTIONS FOR THE NORTHERN CAMPAIGN—BRITISH FLEET
PUTS TO SEA—CONJECTURES AS TO ITS DESTINATION—A FEIGNED
LETTER—APPEARANCE AND DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FLEET—ORDERS AND COUNTER
ORDERS OF WASHINGTON—ENCAMPS AT GERMANTOWN—ANXIETY FOR THE SECURITY
OF THE HIGHLANDS—GEORGE CLINTON ON GUARD—CALL ON CONNECTICUT.

A spirited exploit to the eastward was performed during the prevalence
of adverse news from the North. General Prescott had command of the
British forces in Rhode Island. His harsh treatment of Colonel Ethan
Allen, and his haughty and arrogant conduct on various occasions, had
rendered him peculiarly odious to the Americans. Lieutenant-colonel
Barton, who was stationed with a force of Rhode Island militia on the
mainland, received word that Prescott was quartered at a country house
near the western shore of the island, about four miles from Newport,
totally unconscious of danger, though in a very exposed situation. He
determined, if possible, to surprise and capture him. Forty resolute men
joined him in the enterprise. Embarking at night in two boats at Warwick
Neck, they pulled quietly across the bay with muffled oars, undiscovered
by the ships of war and guard boats; landed in silence; eluded the
vigilance of the guard stationed near the house; captured the sentry at
the door, and surprised the general in his bed. His aide-de-camp leaped
from the window, but was likewise taken. Colonel Barton returned with
equal silence and address, and arrived safe at Warwick with his
prisoners. A sword was voted to him by Congress, and he received a
colonel’s commission in the regular army.

Washington hailed the capture of Prescott as a peculiarly fortunate
circumstance, furnishing him with an equivalent for General Lee. He
accordingly wrote to Sir William Howe, proposing the exchange. “This
proposition,” writes he, “being agreeable to the letter and spirit of
the agreement subsisting between us, will, I hope, have your
approbation. I am the more induced to expect it, as it will not only
remove one ground of controversy between us, but in its consequences
effect the exchanges of Lieutenant-colonel Campbell and the Hessian
officers, for a like number of ours of equal rank in your possession.”

No immediate reply was received to this letter, Sir William Howe being
at sea; in the mean time Prescott remained in durance. “I would have him
genteelly accommodated, but strongly guarded,” writes Washington. “I
would not admit him to parole, as General Howe has not thought proper to
grant General Lee that indulgence.”[43]

Washington continued his anxious exertions to counteract the operations
of the enemy; forwarding artillery and ammunition to Schuyler, with all
the camp furniture that could be spared from his own encampment and from
Peekskill. A part of Nixon’s brigade was all the reinforcement he could
afford in his present situation. “To weaken this army more than is
prudent,” writes he, “would perhaps bring destruction upon it, and I
look upon the keeping it upon a respectable footing as the only means of
preventing a junction of Howe’s and Burgoyne’s armies, which, if
effected, may have the most fatal consequences.”

Schuyler had earnestly desired the assistance of an active officer well
acquainted with the country. Washington sent him Arnold. “I need not,”
writes he, “enlarge upon his well-known activity, conduct and bravery.
The proofs he has given of all these have gained him the confidence of
the public and of the army, the Eastern troops in particular.”

The question of rank, about which Arnold was so tenacious, was yet
unsettled, and though, had his promotion been regular, he would have
been superior in command to General St. Clair, he assured Washington
that, on the present occasion, his claim should create no dispute.

Schuyler, in the mean time, aided by Kosciuszko the Pole, who was
engineer in his department, had selected two positions on Moses Creek,
four miles below Fort Edward; where the troops which had retreated from
Ticonderoga, and part of the militia, were throwing up works.

To impede the advance of the enemy, he had caused trees to be felled
into Wood Creek, so as to render it unnavigable, and the roads between
Fort Edward and Fort Anne to be broken up; the cattle in that direction
to be brought away, and the forage destroyed. He had drawn off the
garrison from Fort George, who left the buildings in flames.
“Strengthened by that garrison, who are in good health,” writes he, “and
if the militia, who are here, or an equal number, can be prevailed on to
stay, and the enemy give me a few days more, which I think they will be
obliged to do, I shall not be apprehensive that they will be able to
force the posts I am about to occupy.”

Washington cheered on his faithful coadjutor. His reply to Schuyler
(July 22d) was full of that confident hope, founded on sagacious
forecast, with which he was prone to animate his generals in times of
doubt and difficulty. “Though our affairs for some days past have worn a
dark and gloomy aspect, I yet look forward to a fortunate and happy
change. I trust General Burgoyne’s army will meet sooner or later an
effectual check, and, as I suggested before, that the success he has had
will precipitate his ruin. From your accounts, he appears to be pursuing
that line of conduct, which, of all others, is most favorable to us; I
mean acting in detachment. This conduct will certainly give room for
enterprise on our part, and expose his parties to great hazard. Could we
be so happy as to cut one of them off, supposing it should not exceed
four, five, or six hundred men, it would inspirit the people, and do
away much of their present anxiety. In such an event they would lose
sight of past misfortunes, and, urged at the same time by a regard to
their own security, they would fly to arms and afford every aid in their
power.”

While he thus suggested bold enterprises, he cautioned Schuyler not to
repose too much confidence in the works he was projecting, so as to
collect in them a large quantity of stores. “I begin to consider lines
as a kind of trap;” writes he, “and not to answer the valuable purposes
expected from them, unless they are in passes which cannot be avoided by
the enemy.”

In circulars addressed to the brigadier-generals of militia in the
western parts of Massachusetts and Connecticut, he warned them that the
evacuation of Ticonderoga had opened a door by which the enemy, unless
vigorously opposed, might penetrate the northern part of the State of
New York, and the western parts of New Hampshire and Massachusetts, and,
forming a junction with General Howe, cut off the communication between
the Eastern and Northern States. “It cannot be supposed,” adds he, “that
the small number of Continental troops assembled at Fort Edward, is
alone sufficient to check the progress of the enemy. To the militia,
therefore, must we look for support in this time of trial; and I trust
that you will immediately upon receipt of this, if you have not done it
already, march with at least one third of the militia under your
command, and rendezvous at Saratoga, unless directed to some other place
by General Schuyler or General Arnold.”

Washington now ordered that all the vessels and river craft, not
required at Albany, should be sent down to New Windsor and Fishkill, and
kept in readiness; for he knew not how soon the movements of General
Howe might render it suddenly necessary to transport part of his forces
up the Hudson.

Further letters from Schuyler urged the increasing exigencies of his
situation. It was harvest time. The militia, impatient at being detained
from their rural labors, were leaving him in great numbers. In a council
of general officers, it had been thought advisable to give leave of
absence to half, lest the whole should depart. He feared those who
remained would do so but a few days. The enemy were steadily employed
cutting a road toward him from Skenesborough. From the number of horse
they were reported to have, and to expect, they might intend to bring
their provisions on horseback. If so, they would be able to move with
expedition. In this position of affairs, he urged to be reinforced as
speedily as possible.

Washington, in reply, informed him that he had ordered a further
reinforcement of General Glover’s brigade, which was all he could
possibly furnish in his own exigencies. He trusted affairs with Schuyler
would soon wear a more smiling aspect, that the Eastern States, who were
so deeply concerned in the matter, would exert themselves, by effectual
succors, to enable him to check the progress of the enemy, and repel a
danger by which they were immediately threatened. From the information
he had received, he supposed the force of the enemy to be little more
than five thousand. “They seem,” said he, “to be unprovided with waggons
to transport the immense quantity of baggage and warlike apparatus,
without which they cannot pretend to penetrate the country. You mention
their having a great number of horses, but they must nevertheless
require a considerable number of waggons, as there are many things which
cannot be transported on horses. They can never think of advancing
without securing their rear, and the force with which they can act
against you, will be greatly reduced by detachments necessary for that
purpose; and as they have to cut out their passage, and to remove the
impediments you have thrown in their way, before they can proceed, this
circumstance, with the encumbrance they must feel in their baggage,
stores, &c., will inevitably retard their march, and give you leisure
and opportunity to prepare a good reception for them. * * * * I have
directed General Lincoln to repair to you as speedily as the state of
his health, which is not very perfect, will permit; this gentleman has
always supported the character of a judicious, brave, active officer,
and he is exceedingly popular in the State of Massachusetts, to which he
belongs he will have a degree of influence over the militia which cannot
fail of being highly advantageous. I have intended him more particularly
for the command of the militia, and I promise myself it will have a
powerful tendency to make them turn out with more cheerfulness, and to
inspire them with perseverance to remain in the field, and with
fortitude and spirit to do their duty while in it.”[44]

Washington highly approved of a measure suggested by Schuyler, of
stationing a body of troops somewhere about the Hampshire Grants
(Vermont), so as to be in the rear or on the flank of Burgoyne, should
he advance. It would make the latter, he said, very circumspect in his
advances, if it did not entirely prevent them. It would keep him in
continual anxiety for his rear, and oblige him to leave the posts behind
him much stronger than he would otherwise do. He advised that General
Lincoln should have the command of the corps thus posted, “as no person
could be more proper for it.”

He recommended, moreover, that in case the enemy should make any
formidable movement in the neighborhood of Fort Schuyler (Stanwix), on
the Mohawk River, General Arnold, or some other sensible, spirited
officer, should be sent to take charge of that post, keep up the spirits
of the inhabitants, and cultivate and improve the favorable disposition
of the Indians.

The reader will find in the sequel what a propitious effect all these
measures had upon the fortunes of the Northern campaign, and with what
admirable foresight Washington calculated all its chances. Due credit
must also be given to the sagacious counsels and executive energy of
Schuyler; who suggested some of the best moves in the campaign, and
carried them vigorously into action. Never was Washington more ably and
loyally seconded by any of his generals.

But now the attention of the commander-in-chief is called to the
seaboard. On the 23d of July, the fleet, so long the object of watchful
solicitude, actually put to sea. The force embarked, according to
subsequent accounts, consisted of thirty-six British and Hessian
battalions, including the light-infantry and grenadiers, with a powerful
artillery; a New York corps of provincials, or royalists, called the
Queen’s Rangers, and a regiment of light-horse; between fifteen and
eighteen thousand men in all. The force left with General Sir Henry
Clinton for the protection of New York, consisted of seventeen
battalions, a regiment of light-horse, and the remainder of the
provincial corps.[45]

The destination of the fleet was still a matter of conjecture. Just
after it had sailed, a young man presented himself at one of General
Putnam’s outposts. He had been a prisoner in New York, he said, but had
received his liberty and a large reward on undertaking to be the bearer
of a letter from General Howe to Burgoyne. This letter his feelings of
patriotism prompted him to deliver up to General Putnam. The letter was
immediately transmitted by the general to Washington. It was in the
handwriting of Howe, and bore his signature. In it he informed Burgoyne,
that, instead of any designs up the Hudson, he was bound to the east
against Boston. “If,” said he, “according to my expectations, we may
succeed in getting possession of it, I shall, without loss of time,
proceed to co-operate with you in the defeat of the rebel army opposed
to you. Clinton is sufficiently strong to amuse Washington and Putnam. I
am now making demonstrations to the southward, which I think will have
the full effect in carrying our plan into execution.”

Washington at once pronounced the letter a feint. “No stronger proof
could be given,” said he, “that Howe is not going to the eastward. The
letter was evidently intended to fall into our hands. If there were not
too great a risk of the dispersion of their fleet, I should think their
putting to sea a mere manœuvre to deceive, and the North River still
their object. I am persuaded, more than ever, that Philadelphia is the
place of destination.”

He now set out with his army for the Delaware, ordering Sullivan and
Stirling with their divisions to cross the Hudson from Peekskill, and
proceed towards Philadelphia. Every movement and order showed his doubt
and perplexity, and the circumspection with which he had to proceed. On
the 30th, he writes from Coryell’s Ferry, about thirty miles from
Philadelphia, to General Gates, who was in that city: “As we are yet
uncertain as to the real destination of the enemy, though the Delaware
seems the most probable, I have thought it prudent to halt the army at
this place, Howell’s Ferry, and Trenton, at least till the fleet
actually enters the bay and puts the matter beyond a doubt. From hence
we can be on the proper ground to oppose them before they can possibly
make their arrangements and dispositions for an attack. * * * That the
post in the Highlands may not be left too much exposed, I have ordered
General Sullivan’s division to halt at Morristown, whence it will march
southward if there should be occasion, or northward upon the first
advice that the enemy should be throwing any force up the North River.
General Howe’s in a manner abandoning General Burgoyne, is so
unaccountable a matter, that, till I am fully assured it is so, _I
cannot help casting my eyes continually behind me_. As I shall pay no
regard to any flying reports of the appearance of the fleet, I shall
expect an account of it from you, the moment you have ascertained it to
your satisfaction.”

On the 31st, he was informed that the enemy’s fleet of two hundred and
twenty-eight sail, had arrived the day previous at the Capes of
Delaware. He instantly wrote to Putnam to hurry on two brigades, which
had crossed the river, and to let Schuyler and the commanders in the
Eastern States know that they had nothing to fear from Howe, and might
bend all their forces, Continental and militia, against Burgoyne. In the
mean time he moved his camp to Germantown, about six miles from
Philadelphia, to be at hand for the defence of that city.

The very next day came word, by express, that the fleet had again sailed
out of the Capes, and apparently shaped its course eastward. “This
surprising event gives me the greatest anxiety,” writes he to Putnam
(Aug. 1), “and unless every possible exertion is made, may be productive
of the happiest consequences to the enemy and the most injurious to
us. * * * The importance of preventing Mr. Howe’s getting possession of
the Highlands by a _coup de main_, is infinite to America; and, in the
present situation of things, every effort that can be thought of must be
used. The probability of his going to the eastward is exceedingly small,
and the ill effects that might attend such a step inconsiderable, in
comparison with those that would inevitably attend a successful stroke
on the Highlands.”

Under this impression Washington sent orders to Sullivan to hasten back
with his division and the two brigades which had recently left Peekskill
and to recross the Hudson to that post as speedily as possible,
intending to forward the rest of the army with all the expedition in his
power. He wrote, also, to General George Clinton, to reinforce Putnam
with as many of the New York militia as could be collected. Clinton, be
it observed, had just been installed Governor of the State of New York;
the first person elevated to that office under the Constitution. He
still continued in actual command of the militia of the State, and it
was with great satisfaction that Washington subsequently learnt he had
determined to resume the command of Fort Montgomery in the Highlands:
“There cannot be a more proper man,” writes he, “on every account.”

Washington, moreover, requested Putnam to send an express to Governor
Trumbull, urging assistance from the militia of his State without a
moment’s loss of time. “Connecticut cannot be in more danger through any
channel than this, and every motive of its own interest and the general
good demands its utmost endeavors to give you effectual assistance.
Governor Trumbull will, I trust, be sensible of this.”

And here we take occasion to observe, that there could be no surer
reliance for aid in time of danger than the patriotism of Governor
Trumbull; nor were there men more ready to obey a sudden appeal to arms
than the yeomanry of Connecticut; however much their hearts might
subsequently yearn toward the farms and firesides they had so promptly
abandoned. No portion of the Union was more severely tasked, throughout
the Revolution, for military services; and Washington avowed, when the
great struggle was over, that, “if all the States had done their duty as
well as the little State of Connecticut, the war would have been ended
long ago.”[46]

CHAPTER XII

GATES ON THE ALERT FOR A COMMAND—SCHUYLER UNDERMINED IN CONGRESS—PUT
ON HIS GUARD—COURTS A SCRUTINY BUT NOT BEFORE AN EXPECTED
ENGAGEMENT—SUMMONED WITH ST. CLAIR TO HEAD-QUARTERS—GATES APPOINTED
TO THE NORTHERN DEPARTMENT—WASHINGTON’S SPECULATIONS ON THE
SUCCESSES OF BURGOYNE—ILL-JUDGED MEDDLINGS OF CONGRESS WITH THE
COMMISSARIAT—COLONEL TRUMBULL RESIGNS IN CONSEQUENCE.

We have cited in a preceding page a letter from Washington to Gates at
Philadelphia, requiring his vigilant attention to the movements of the
enemy’s fleet; that ambitious officer, however, was engrossed at the
time by matters more important to his individual interests. The command
of the Northern department seemed again within his reach. The evacuation
of Ticonderoga had been imputed by many either to cowardice or treachery
on the part of General St. Clair, and the enemies of Schuyler had, for
some time past, been endeavoring to involve him in the disgrace of the
transaction. It is true he was absent from the fortress at the time,
zealously engaged, as we have shown, in procuring and forwarding
reinforcements and supplies; but it was alleged that the fort had been
evacuated by his order, and that, while there, he had made such
dispositions as plainly indicated an intention to deliver it to the
enemy. In the eagerness to excite popular feeling against him, old
slanders were revived, and the failure of the invasion of Canada, and
all the subsequent disasters in that quarter, were again laid to his
charge as commanding general of the Northern department. “In short,”
writes Schuyler in one of his letters, “every art is made use of to
destroy that confidence which it is so essential the army should have in
its general officers, and this too by people pretending to be friends to
the country.”[47]

These charges, which for some time existed merely in popular clamor, had
recently been taken up in Congress, and a strong demonstration had been
made against him by some of the New England delegates. “Your enemies in
this quarter,” writes his friend, the Hon. William Duer (July 29th);
“are leaving no means unessayed to blast your character, and to impute
to your appointment in that department a loss which, rightly
investigated, can be imputed to very different causes.

“Be not suprised if you should be desired to attend Congress, to give an
account of the loss of Ticonderoga. With respect to the result of the
inquiry I am under no apprehensions. Like gold tried in the fire, I
trust that you, my dear friend, will be found more pure and bright than
ever. * * * * * * From the nature of your department, and other
unavoidable causes, you have not had an opportunity, during the course
of this war, of evincing that spirit which _I_ and your more intimate
friends know you to possess; of this circumstance prejudice takes a
cruel advantage, and malice lends an easy ear to her dictates. A hint on
this subject is sufficient. You will not, I am sure, see this place till
your conduct gives the lie to this insinuation, as it has done before to
every other which your enemies have so industriously circulated.”[48]

Schuyler, in reply, expressed the most ardent wish that Congress would
order him to attend and give an account of his conduct. He wished his
friends to push for the closest scrutiny, confident that it would
redound to his honor. “I would not, however, wish the scrutiny to take
place immediately,” adds he, “as we shall probably soon have an
engagement, if we are so reinforced with militia as to give us a
probable chance of success. * * * Be assured, my dear friend, if a
general engagement takes place, whatever may be the event, you will not
have occasion to blush for your friend.”[49]

It seemed to be the object of Mr. Schuyler’s enemies to forestall his
having such a chance of distinguishing himself. The business was pushed
in Congress more urgently than even Mr. Duer had anticipated. Beside the
allegations against him in regard to Ticonderoga, his unpopularity in
the Eastern States was urged as a sufficient reason for discontinuing
him in his present command, as the troops from that quarter were
unwilling to serve under him. This had a great effect in the present
time of peril, with several of the delegates from the East, who
discredited the other charges against him. The consequence was, that
after long and ardent debates, in which some of the most eminent
delegates from New York, who intimately knew his worth, stood up in his
favor, it was resolved (Aug. 1st) that both General Schuyler and General
St. Clair should be summoned to head-quarters to account for the
misfortunes in the North, and that Washington should be directed to
order such general officer as he should think proper to succeed General
Schuyler in the command of the Northern department.

The very next day a letter was addressed to Washington by several of the
leading Eastern members, men of unquestionable good faith, such as
Samuel and John Adams, urging the appointment of Gates. “No man, in our
opinion,” said they, “will be more likely to restore harmony, order and
discipline, and retrieve our affairs in that quarter. He has, on
experience, acquired the confidence and stands high in the esteem of the
Eastern troops.”

Washington excused himself from making any nomination, alleging that the
Northern department had, in a great measure, been considered a separate
one; that, moreover, the situation of the department was delicate, and
might involve interesting and delicate consequences. The nomination,
therefore, was made by Congress; the Eastern influence prevailed, and
Gates received the appointment, so long the object of his aspirations,
if not intrigues.

Washington deeply regretted the removal of a noble-hearted man, with
whom he had acted so harmoniously, whose exertions had been so energetic
and unwearied, and who was so peculiarly fitted for the varied duties of
the department. He consoled himself, however, with the thought that the
excuse of want of confidence in the general officers, hitherto alleged
by the Eastern States for withholding reinforcements, would be obviated
by the presence of this man of their choice.

With the prevalent wisdom of his pen, he endeavored to allay the
distrusts and apprehensions awakened by the misfortune at Ticonderoga,
which he considered the worst consequence of that event. “If the matter
were coolly and dispassionately considered,” writes he to the council of
safety of the State of New York, “there would be nothing found so
formidable in General Burgoyne and the force under him, with all his
successes, to countenance the least degree of despondency; and
experience would show, that even the moderate exertions of the States
more immediately interested, would be sufficient to check his career,
and, perhaps, convert the advantages he has gained to his ruin. * * * *
If I do not give so effectual aid as I could wish to the Northern army,
it is not from want of inclination, nor from being too little impressed
with the importance of doing it; but because the state of affairs in
this quarter will not possibly admit of it. It would be the height of
impolicy to weaken ourselves too much here, in order to increase our
strength there; and it must certainly be considered more difficult, as
well as of greater moment, to control the main army of the enemy, than
an inferior and, I may say, dependent one; for it is pretty obvious that
if General Howe can be kept at bay, and prevented from effecting his
purposes, the successes of General Burgoyne, whatever they may be, must
be partial and temporary.”

The sagacity and foresight of this policy will be manifested by after
events.

On the same day on which the above letter was written, he officially
announced to Gates his appointment, and desired him to proceed
immediately to the place of his destination: wishing him success, and
that he “might speedily be able to restore the face of affairs in that
quarter.”

About this time took effect a measure of Congress, making a complete
change in the commissariat. This important and complicated department
had hitherto been under the management of one commissary-general,
Colonel Joseph Trumbull of Connecticut. By the new arrangement there
were to be two commissaries-general, one of purchases, the other of
issues; each to be appointed by Congress. They were to have several
deputy commissaries under them, but accountable to Congress, and to be
appointed and removed by that body. These, and many subordinate
arrangements, had been adopted in opposition to the opinion of
Washington, and, most unfortunately, were brought into operation in the
midst of this perplexed and critical campaign.

Their first effect was to cause the resignation of Colonel Trumbull, who
had been nominated commissary of purchases; and the entrance into office
of a number of inexperienced men. The ultimate effect was to paralyze
the organization of this vital department; to cause delay and confusion
in furnishing and forwarding supplies; and to retard and embarrass the
operations of the different armies throughout the year. Washington had
many dangers and difficulties to harass and perplex him throughout this
complicated campaign, and not among the least may be classed the
“stumblings of Congress.”

NOTE.

An author, eminent for his historical researches, expresses himself at
a loss to explain the prejudice existing against General Schuyler
among the people of the New England States. “There was not an
individual connected with the Revolution,” observes he, “concerning
whom there is more abundant evidence of his patriotism and unwearied
services in the cause of his country.”

Wilkinson, at that time a devoted follower of Gates, and likely to
know the influences that operated against his rival, traces this
prejudice up to times prior to the Revolution, when Schuyler acted as
commissioner on the part of New York in settling the partition line
between that colony and Massachusetts Bay. This gave rise to the feuds
and controversies concerning the Hampshire Grants, in which, according
to Wilkinson, the parties were distinguished by the designations of
Yankee and Yorker. The zealous exertions of Schuyler on behalf of New
York, gained him the ill will of the Hampshire grantees, and of
eastern men of the first rank with whom he came in collision. This
feeling survived the controversy, and existed among the militia from
those parts. On the other hand, Wilkinson observes, “It was General
Gates’s policy to favor the views of the inhabitants of the Hampshire
Grants, which made him popular with these people.”

Somewhat of the prejudice against Schuyler Wilkinson ascribes to
social habits and manners, “those of New England at the time being
democratic and puritanical, whilst in New York they were courtly and
aristocratical.” Schuyler was a man of the world, and of society,
cultivated, and well bred; he was an eléve too of Major-general
Bradstreet in the seven years’ war; and had imbibed notions of
military carriage and decorum in an aristocratic school; all this
rendered him impatient at times of the deficiencies in these respects
among the raw militia officers and made the latter consider him
haughty and reserved.

CHAPTER XIII.

WASHINGTON’S PERPLEXITIES ABOUT THE BRITISH FLEET—PUTNAM AND GOVERNOR
CLINTON PUT ON THE ALERT IN THE HIGHLANDS—MORGAN AND HIS RIFLEMEN
SENT TO THE NORTH—WASHINGTON AT PHILADELPHIA—HIS FIRST INTERVIEW
WITH LAFAYETTE—INTELLIGENCE ABOUT THE FLEET—EXPLANATIONS OF ITS
MOVEMENTS—REVIEW OF THE ARMY—LAFAYETTE MISTAKES THE NATURE OF HIS
COMMISSION—HIS ALLIANCE WITH WASHINGTON—MARCH OF THE ARMY THROUGH
PHILADELPHIA—ENCAMPMENT AT WILMINGTON.

For several days Washington remained at Germantown in painful
uncertainty about the British fleet; whether gone to the south or to the
east. The intense heat of the weather made him unwilling again to move
his army, already excessively harassed by marchings and
countermarchings. Concluding, at length, that the fleet had actually
gone to the east, he was once more on the way to recross the Delaware,
when an express overtook him on the 10th of August, with tidings that
three days before it had been seen off Sinepuxent Inlet, about sixteen
leagues south of the Capes of Delaware.

Again he came to a halt, and waited for further intelligence. Danger
suggested itself from a different quarter. Might it not be Howe’s plan,
by thus appearing with his ships at different places, to lure the army
after him, and thereby leave the country open for Sir Henry Clinton with
the troops at New York to form a junction with Burgoyne? With this idea
Washington wrote forthwith to the veteran Putnam to be on the alert;
collect all the force he could to strengthen his post at Peekskill, and
send down spies to ascertain whether Sir Henry Clinton was actually at
New York, and what troops he had there. “If he has the number of men
with him that is reported,” observes Washington, “it is probably with
the intention to attack you from below, while Burgoyne comes down upon
you from above.”

The old general, whose boast it was that he never slept but with one
eye, was already on the alert. A circumstance had given him proof
positive that Sir Henry was in New York, and had roused his military
ire. A spy, sent by that commander, had been detected furtively
collecting information of the force and condition of the post at
Peekskill, and had undergone a military trial. A vessel of war came up
the Hudson in all haste, and landed a flag of truce at Verplanck’s
Point, by which a message was transmitted to Putnam from Sir Henry
Clinton, claiming Edmund Palmer as a lieutenant in the British service.

The reply of the old general was brief but emphatic

“HEAD-QUARTERS, 7th Aug., 1777.

“Edmund Palmer, an officer in the enemy’s service, was taken as a spy
lurking within our lines; he has been tried as a spy, condemned as a
spy, and shall be executed as a spy; and the flag is ordered to depart
immediately.

“ISRAEL PUTNAM.

“P. S.—He has, accordingly, been executed.”

Governor Clinton, the other guardian of the Highlands, and actually at
his post at Fort Montgomery, was equally on the alert. He had faithfully
followed Washington’s directions, in ordering out militia from different
counties to reinforce his own garrison and the army under Schuyler. “I
never knew the militia come out with greater alacrity,” writes he; “but,
as many of them have yet a great part of their harvests in the field, I
fear it will be difficult to detain them long, unless the enemy will
make some movements that indicate a design of coming this way suddenly,
and so obvious as to be believed by the militia.”

At the same time, the worthy governor expressed his surprise that the
Northern army had not been reinforced from the eastward. “The want of
confidence in the general officers to the northward,” adds he, “is the
specious reason. To me it appears a very weak one. Common gratitude to a
sister State, as well as duty to the continent at large, conspire in
calling on our eastern neighbors to step forth on this occasion.”

One measure more was taken by Washington, during this interval, in aid
of the Northern department. The Indians who accompanied Burgoyne were
objects of great dread to the American troops, especially the militia.
As a counterpoise to them, he now sent up Colonel Morgan with five
hundred riflemen, to fight them in their own way. “They are all chosen
men,” said he, “selected from the army at large, and well acquainted
with the use of rifles and with that mode of fighting. I expect the most
eminent services from them, and I shall be mistaken if their presence
does not go far towards producing a general desertion among the
savages.” It was, indeed, an arm of strength, which he could but ill
spare from his own army.

Putnam was directed to have sloops ready to transport them up the
Hudson, and Gates was informed of their being on the way, and about what
time he might expect them, as well as two regiments from Peekskill,
under colonels Van Courtlandt and Livingston.

“With these reinforcements, besides the militia under General Lincoln,”
writes Washington to Gates, “I am in hopes you will find yourself at
least equal to stop the progress of Mr. Burgoyne, and, by cutting off
his supplies of provisions, to render his situation very ineligible.”
Washington was thus, in a manner, carrying on two games at once, with
Howe on the seaboard and with Burgoyne on the upper waters of the
Hudson, and endeavoring by skilful movements to give check to both. It
was an arduous and complicated task, especially with his scanty and
fluctuating means, and the wide extent of country and great distances
over which he had to move his men.

His measures to throw a force in the rear of Burgoyne were now in a fair
way of being carried into effect. Lincoln was at Bennington. Stark had
joined him with a body of New Hampshire militia, and a corps of
Massachusetts militia was arriving. “Such a force in his rear,” observed
Washington, “will oblige Burgoyne to leave such strong posts behind as
must make his main body very weak, and extremely capable of being
repulsed by the force we have in front.”

During his encampment in the neighborhood of Philadelphia, Washington
was repeatedly at that city, making himself acquainted with the military
capabilities of the place and its surrounding country, and directing the
construction of fortifications on the river. In one of these visits he
became acquainted with the young Marquis de Lafayette, who had recently
arrived from France, in company with a number of French, Polish, and
German officers, among whom was the Baron de Kalb. The marquis was not
quite twenty years of age, yet had already been married nearly three
years to a lady of rank and fortune. Full of the romance of liberty, he
had torn himself from his youthful bride, turned his back upon the
gayeties and splendors of a court, and in defiance of impediments and
difficulties multiplied in his path, had made his way to America to join
its hazardous fortunes.

He sent in his letters of recommendation to Mr. Lovell, Chairman of the
Committee of Foreign Affairs; and applied the next day at the door of
Congress to know his success. Mr. Lovell came forth, and gave him but
little encouragement; Congress, in fact, was embarrassed by the number
of foreign applications, many without merit. Lafayette immediately sent
in the following note: “After my sacrifices, I have the right to ask two
favors; one is to serve at my own expense; the other, to commence by
serving as a volunteer.”[50]

This simple appeal had its effect: it called attention to his peculiar
case, and Congress resolved on the 31st of July, that in consideration
of his zeal, his illustrious family and connections, he should have the
rank of major-general in the army of the United States.

It was at a public dinner, where a number of members of Congress were
present, that Lafayette first saw Washington. He immediately knew him,
he said, from the officers who surrounded him, by his commanding air and
person. When the party was breaking up, Washington took him aside,
complimented him in a gracious manner on his disinterested zeal and the
generosity of his conduct, and invited him to make head-quarters his
home. “I cannot promise you the luxuries of a court,” said he, “but as
you have become an American soldier, you will, doubtless, accommodate
yourself to the fare of an American army.”

Many days had now elapsed without further tidings of the fleet. What had
become of it? Had Howe gone against Charleston? If so, the distance was
too great to think of following him. Before the army, debilitated and
wasted by a long march, under a summer sun, in an unhealthy climate,
could reach there, he might accomplish every purpose he had in view, and
reembark his troops to turn his arms against Philadelphia, or any other
point, without the army being at hand to oppose him.

What, under these uncertainties, was to be done? remain inactive, in the
remote probability of Howe’s returning this way; or proceed to the
Hudson with a view either to oppose Burgoyne, or make an attempt upon
New York? A successful stroke with respect to either, might make up for
any losses sustained in the South. The latter was unanimously determined
in a council of war, in which the Marquis Lafayette took part. As it
was, however, a movement that might involve the most important
consequences, Washington sent his aide-de-camp, Colonel Alexander
Hamilton, with a letter to the President of Congress, requesting the
opinion of that body. Congress approved the decision of the council, and
the army was about to be put in march, when all these tormenting
uncertainties were brought to an end by intelligence that the fleet had
actually entered the Chesapeake, and anchored at Swan Point, at least
two hundred miles within the capes. “By General Howe’s coming so far up
the Chesapeake,” writes Washington, “he must mean to reach Philadelphia
by that route, though to be sure it is a strange one.”

The mystery of these various appearances and vanishings which had caused
so much wonder and perplexity, is easily explained. Shortly before
putting to sea with the ships of war, Howe had sent a number of
transports, and a ship cut down as a floating battery, up the Hudson,
which had induced Washington to despatch troops to the Highlands. After
putting to sea, the fleet was a week in reaching the Capes of Delaware.
When there, the commanders were deterred from entering the river by
reports of measures taken to obstruct its navigation. It was then
determined to make for Chesapeake Bay, and approach, in that way, as
near as possible to Philadelphia. Contrary winds, however, kept them for
a long time from getting into the bay.

Lafayette, in his memoirs, describes a review of Washington’s army which
he witnessed about this time. “Eleven thousand men, but tolerably armed,
and still worse clad, presented,” he said, “a singular spectacle; in
this parti-colored and often naked state, the best dresses were hunting
shirts of brown linen. Their tactics were equally irregular. They were
arranged without regard to size, excepting that the smallest men were
the front rank; with all this, there were good-looking soldiers
conducted by zealous officers.”

“We ought to feel embarrassed,” said Washington to him, “in presenting
ourselves before an officer just from the French army.”

“It is to learn, and not to instruct, that I come here,” was Lafayette’s
apt and modest reply; and it gained him immediate popularity.

The marquis, however, had misconceived the nature of his appointment;
his commission was merely honorary, but he had supposed it given with a
view to the command of a division of the army. This misconception on his
part caused Washington some embarrassment. The marquis, with his
characteristic vivacity and ardor, was eager for immediate employ. He
admitted that he was young and inexperienced, but always accompanied the
admission with the assurance that, so soon as Washington should think
him fit for the command of a division, he would be ready to enter upon
the duties of it, and, in the mean time, offered his services for a
smaller command. “What the designs of Congress respecting this gentleman
are, and what line of conduct I am to pursue to comply with their design
and his expectations,” writes Washington, “I know not, and beg to be
instructed.”

“The numberless applications for employment by foreigners under their
respective appointments,” continues he, “add no small embarrassment to a
command, which, without it, is abundantly perplexed by the different
tempers I have to do with, and the different modes which the respective
States have pursued in nominating and arranging their officers; _the
combination of all which is but too just a representation of a great
chaos, from whence we are endeavoring, how successfully time only can
show, to draw some regularity and order_.”[51] How truly is here
depicted one of the great difficulties of his command, continually
tasking his equity and equanimity. In the present instance it was
intimated to Washington, that he was not bound by the tenor of
Lafayette’s commission to give him a command; but was at liberty to
follow his own judgment in the matter. This still left him in a delicate
situation with respect to the marquis, whose prepossessing manners and
self-sacrificing zeal inspired regard; but whose extreme youth and
inexperience necessitated caution. Lafayette, however, from the first
attached himself to Washington with an affectionate reverence, the
sincerity of which could not be mistaken, and soon won his way into a
heart, which, with all its apparent coldness, was naturally confiding,
and required sympathy and friendship; and it is a picture well worthy to
be hung up in history,—this cordial and enduring alliance of the calm,
dignified, sedate Washington, mature in years and wisdom, and the young,
buoyant, enthusiastic Lafayette.

The several divisions of the army had been summoned to the immediate
neighborhood of Philadelphia, and the militia of Pennsylvania, Delaware,
and the northern parts of Virginia were called out. Many of the militia,
with Colonel Proctor’s corps of artillery, had been ordered to
rendezvous at Chester on the Delaware, about twelve miles below
Philadelphia; and by Washington’s orders, General Wayne left his brigade
under the next in command, and repaired to Chester, to arrange the
troops assembling there.

As there had been much disaffection to the cause evinced in
Philadelphia, Washington, in order to encourage its friends and
dishearten its enemies, marched with the whole army through the city,
down Front and up Chestnut Street. Great pains were taken to make the
display as imposing as possible. All were charged to keep to their
ranks, carry their arms well, and step in time to the music of the drums
and fifes, collected in the centre of each brigade. “Though
indifferently dressed,” says a spectator, “they held well burnished
arms, and carried them like soldiers, and looked, in short, as if they
might have faced an equal number with a reasonable prospect of success.”
To give them something of a uniform appearance, they had sprigs of green
in their hats.

Washington rode at the head of the troops attended by his numerous
staff, with the Marquis Lafayette by his side. The long column of the
army, broken into divisions and brigades, the pioneers with their axes,
the squadrons of horse, the extended trains of artillery, the tramp of
steed, the bray of trumpet, and the spirit-stirring sound of drum and
fife, all had an imposing effect on a peaceful city unused to the sight
of marshalled armies. The disaffected, who had been taught to believe
the American forces much less than they were in reality, were astonished
as they gazed on the lengthening procession of a host, which, to their
unpractised eyes, appeared innumerable; while the whigs, gaining fresh
hope and animation from the sight, cheered the patriot squadrons as they
passed.

Having marched through Philadelphia, the army continued on to
Wilmington, at the confluence of Christiana Creek and the Brandywine,
where Washington set up his head-quarters, his troops being encamped on
the neighboring heights.

We will now revert to the other object of Washington’s care and
solicitude, the invading army of Burgoyne in the North; and will see how
far his precautionary measures were effective.

CHAPTER XIV

BURGOYNE AT SKENESBOROUGH—PREPARES TO MOVE TOWARDS THE HUDSON—MAJOR
SKENE THE ROYALIST—SLOW MARCH TO FORT ANNE—SCHUYLER AT FORT
MILLER—PAINTED WARRIORS—LANGLADE—ST. LUC—HONOR OF THE
TOMAHAWK—TRAGICAL HISTORY OF MISS MCCREA—ITS RESULTS—BURGOYNE
ADVANCES TO FORT EDWARD—SCHUYLER AT STILLWATER—JOINED BY
LINCOLN—BURGOYNE DESERTED BY HIS INDIAN ALLIES.

In a preceding chapter we left Burgoyne, early in July, at
Skenesborough, of which he had just gained possession. He remained there
nearly three weeks, awaiting the arrival of the residue of his troops,
with tents, baggage and provisions, and preparing for his grand move
toward the Hudson River. Many royalists flocked to his standard. One of
the most important was Major Skene, from whom the place was named, being
its founder, and the owner of much land in its neighborhood. He had
served in the French war, but retired on half pay; bought “soldiers’
grants” of land lying within this township, at a trifling price, had
their titles secured by royal patent, and thus made a fortune. Burgoyne
considered him a valuable adjunct and counsellor, and frequently took
advice from him in his campaign through this part of the country.

The progress of the army towards the Hudson was slow and difficult, in
consequence of the impediments which Schuyler had multiplied in his way
during his long halt at Skenesborough, bridges broken down had to be
rebuilt; great trees to be removed which had been felled across the
roads and into Wood Creek, which stream was completely choked. It was
not until the latter part of July that Burgoyne reached Fort Anne. At
his approach, General Schuyler retired from Fort Edward and took post at
Fort Miller, a few miles lower down the Hudson.

The Indian allies who had hitherto accompanied the British army, had
been more troublesome than useful. Neither Burgoyne nor his officers
understood their language, but were obliged to communicate with them
through Canadian interpreters; too often designing knaves, who played
false to both parties. The Indians, too, were of the tribes of Lower
Canada, corrupted and debased by intercourse with white men. It had been
found difficult to draw them from the plunder of Ticonderoga, or to
restrain their murderous propensities.

A party had recently arrived of a different stamp. Braves of the Ottawa
and other tribes from the upper country; painted and decorated with
savage magnificence, and bearing trophies of former triumphs. They were,
in fact, according to Burgoyne, the very Indians who had aided the
French in the defeat of Braddock, and were under the conduct of two
French leaders; one, named Langlade, had command of them on that very
occasion; the other, named St. Luc, is described by Burgoyne as a
Canadian gentleman of honor and abilities, and one of the best partisans
of the French in the war of 1756.

Burgoyne trusted to his newly arrived Indians to give a check to the
operations of Schuyler, knowing the terror they inspired throughout the
country. He thought also to employ them in a wild foray to the
Connecticut River, to force a supply of provisions, intercept
reinforcements to the American army, and confirm the jealousy which he
had, in many ways, endeavored to excite in the New England provinces. He
was naturally a humane man, and disliked Indian allies, but these had
hitherto served in company with civilized troops, and he trusted to the
influence possessed over them by St. Luc and Langlade, to keep them
within the usages of war. A circumstance occurred, however, which showed
how little the “wild honor” of these warriors of the tomahawk is to be
depended upon.

In General Fraser’s division was a young officer, Lieutenant David
Jones, an American loyalist. His family had their home in the vicinity
of Fort Edward before the Revolution. A mutual attachment had taken
place between the youth and a beautiful girl, Jane McCrea. She was the
daughter of a Scotch Presbyterian clergyman of the Jerseys, some time
deceased, and resided with her brother on the banks of the Hudson a few
miles below Fort Edward. The lovers were engaged to be married, when the
breaking out of the war severed families and disturbed all the relations
of life. The Joneses were royalists; the brother of Miss McCrea was a
stanch whig. The former removed to Canada, where David Jones was among
the most respectable of those who joined the royal standard, and
received a lieutenant’s commission.

The attachment between the lovers continued, and it is probable that a
correspondence was kept up between them. Lieutenant Jones was now in
Fraser’s camp; in his old neighborhood. Miss McCrea was on a visit to a
widow lady, Mrs. O’Niel, residing at Fort Edward. The approach of
Burgoyne’s army had spread an alarm through the country; the inhabitants
were flying from their homes. The brother of Miss McCrea determined to
remove to Albany, and sent for his sister to return home and make ready
to accompany him. She hesitated to obey. He sent a more urgent message,
representing the danger of lingering near the fort, which must
inevitably fall into the hands of the enemy. Still she lingered. The
lady with whom she was a guest was a royalist, a friend of General
Fraser; her roof would be respected. Even should Fort Edward be
captured, what had Jane to fear? Her lover was in the British camp; the
capture of the fort would reunite them.

Her brother’s messages now became peremptory. She prepared, reluctantly,
to obey, and was to embark in a large bateau which was to convey several
families down the river. The very morning when the embarkation was to
take place, the neighborhood was a scene of terror. A marauding party of
Indians, sent out by Burgoyne to annoy General Schuyler, were harassing
the country. Several of them burst into the house of Mrs. O’Niel, sacked
and plundered it, and carried off her and Miss McCrea prisoners. In her
fright the latter promised the savages a large reward, if they would
spare her life and take her in safety to the British camp. It was a
fatal promise. Halting at a spring, a quarrel arose among the savages,
inflamed most probably with drink, as to whose prize she was, and who
was entitled to the reward. The dispute became furious, and one, in a
paroxysm of rage, killed her on the spot. He completed the savage act by
bearing off her scalp as a trophy.

General Burgoyne was struck with horror when he heard of this bloody
deed. What at first heightened the atrocity was a report that the
Indians had been sent by Lieutenant Jones to bring Miss McCrea to the
camp. This he positively denied, and his denial was believed. Burgoyne
summoned a council of the Indian chiefs, in which he insisted that the
murderer of Miss McCrea should be given up to receive the reward of his
crime. The demand produced a violent agitation. The culprit was a great
warrior, a chief, and the “wild honor” of his brother sachems was roused
in his behalf. St. Luc took Burgoyne aside, and entreated him not to
push the matter to extremities; assuring him that, from what was passing
among the chiefs, he was sure they and their warriors would all abandon
the army, should the delinquent be executed. The British officers also
interfered, representing the danger that might accrue should the Indians
return through Canada, with their savage resentments awakened, or, what
was worse, should they go over to the Americans.

Burgoyne was thus reluctantly brought to spare the offender, but
thenceforth made it a rule that no party of Indians should be permitted
to go forth on a foray unless under the conduct of a British officer, or
some other competent person, who should be responsible for their
behavior.

The mischief to the British cause, however, had been effected. The
murder of Miss McCrea resounded throughout the land, counteracting all
the benefit anticipated from the terror of Indian hostilities. Those
people of the frontiers, who had hitherto remained quiet, now flew to
arms to defend their families and firesides. In their exasperation they
looked beyond the savages to their employers. They abhorred an army,
which, professing to be civilized, could league itself with such
barbarians; and they execrated a government, which, pretending to
reclaim them as subjects, could let loose such fiends to desolate their
homes.

The blood of this unfortunate girl, therefore, was not shed in vain.
Armies sprang up from it. Her name passed as a note of alarm, along the
banks of the Hudson; it was a rallying word among the Green Mountains of
Vermont, and brought down all their hardy yeomanry.[52]

As Burgoyne advanced to Fort Edward, Schuyler fell still further back,
and took post at Saratoga, or rather Stillwater, about thirty miles from
Albany. He had been joined by Major-general Lincoln, who, according to
Washington’s directions, had hastened to his assistance. In pursuance of
Washington’s plans, Lincoln proceeded to Manchester in Vermont, to take
command of the militia forces collecting at that point. His presence
inspired new confidence in the country people, who were abandoning their
homes, leaving their crops ungathered, and taking refuge with their
families in the lower towns. He found about five hundred militia
assembled at Manchester, under Colonel Seth Warner; others were coming
on from New Hampshire and Massachusetts, to protect their uncovered
frontier. His letters, dated the 4th of August, expressed the
expectation of being, in a few days, at the head of at least two
thousand men. With these, according to Washington’s plan, he was to hang
on the flank and rear of Burgoyne’s army, cramp its movements, and watch
for an opportunity to strike a blow.

Burgoyne was now at Fort Edward. “The enthusiasm of the army, as well as
of the general, upon their arrival on the Hudson River, which had been
so long the object of their hopes and wishes, may be better conceived
than described,” says a British writer of the day. The enthusiasm of the
general was soon checked, however, by symptoms of ill-humor among his
Indian allies. They resented his conduct in regard to the affair of Miss
McCrea, and were impatient under the restraint to which they were
subjected. He suspected the Canadian interpreters of fomenting this
discontent; they being accustomed to profit by the rapine of the
Indians. At the earnest request of St. Luc, in whom he still had
confidence, he called a council of the chiefs; when, to his
astonishment, the tribe for whom that gentleman acted as interpreter,
declared their intention of returning home, and demanded his concurrence
and assistance.

Burgoyne was greatly embarrassed. Should he acquiesce, it would be to
relinquish the aid of a force obtained at an immense expense, esteemed
in England of great importance, and which really was serviceable in
furnishing scouts and outposts; yet he saw that a cordial reconciliation
with them could only be effected by revoking his prohibitions, and
indulging their propensities to blood and rapine.

To his credit be it recorded, he adhered to what was right, and rejected
what might be deemed expedient. He refused their proposition, and
persisted in the restraints he had imposed upon them, but appealed to
the wild honor, of which he yet considered them capable, by urging the
ties of faith, of generosity, of every thing that has an influence with
civilized man. His speech appeared to have a good effect. Some of the
remote tribes made zealous professions of loyalty and adhesion. Others,
of Lower Canada, only asked furloughs for parties to return home and
gather in their harvests. These were readily granted, and perfect
harmony seemed restored. The next day, however, the chivalry of the
wilderness deserted by scores, laden with such spoil as they had
collected in their maraudings. These desertions continued from day to
day, until there remained in the camp scarce a vestige of the savage
warriors that had joined the army at Skenesborough.[53]

CHAPTER XV.

DIFFICULTIES OF BURGOYNE—PLANS AN EXPEDITION TO BENNINGTON—ST. LEGER
BEFORE FORT STANWIX—GENERAL HERKIMER AT ORISKANY—HIGH WORDS WITH HIS
OFFICERS—A DOGGED MARCH—AN AMBUSCADE—BATTLE OF ORISKANY—JOHNSON’S
GREENS—DEATH OF HERKIMER—SPIRITED SORTIE OF COLONEL WILLETT—SIR JOHN
JOHNSON DRIVEN TO THE RIVER—FLIGHT OF THE INDIANS—SACKING OF SIR
JOHN’S CAMP—COLONEL GANSEVOORT MAINTAINS HIS POST—COLONEL WILLETT
SENT IN QUEST OF AID—ARRIVES AT SCHUYLER’S CAMP.

New difficulties beset Burgoyne at Fort Edward. The horses which had
been contracted for in Canada, for draft, burthen and saddle, arrived
slowly and scantily; having to come a long distance through the
wilderness. Artillery and munitions, too, of all kinds, had to be
brought from Ticonderoga by the way of Lake George. These, with a vast
number of boats for freight, or to form bridges, it was necessary to
transport over the carrying places between the lakes; and by land from
Fort George to Fort Edward. Unfortunately, the army had not the
requisite supply of horses and oxen. So far from being able to bring
forward provisions for a march, it was with difficulty enough could be
furnished to feed the army from day to day.

While thus situated, Burgoyne received intelligence that the part of his
army which he had detached from Canada under Colonel St. Leger, to
proceed by Lake Ontario and Oswego and make a diversion on the Mohawk,
had penetrated to that river, and were actually investing Fort Stanwix,
the stronghold of that part of the country.

To carry out the original plan of his campaign, it now behooved him to
make a rapid move down the Hudson, so as to be at hand to co-operate
with St. Leger on his approach to Albany. But how was he to do this,
deficient as he was in horses and vehicles for transportation? In this
dilemma Colonel (late major) Skene, the royalist of Skenesborough, to
whom, from his knowledge of all this region, he had of late resorted for
counsel, informed him that at Bennington, about twenty-four miles east
of the Hudson, the Americans had a great depot of horses, carriages, and
supplies of all kind, intended for their Northern army. This place, he
added, might easily be surprised, being guarded by only a small militia
force.

An expedition was immediately set on foot; not only to surprise this
place, but to scour the country from Rockingham to Otter Creek, go down
the Connecticut as far as Brattleborough, and return by the great road
to Albany, there to meet Burgoyne. They were to make prisoners of all
officers, civil and military, whom they might meet, acting under
Congress; to tax the towns where they halted with every thing they stood
in need of, and bring off all horses fit for the dragoons, or for
battalion service, with as many saddles and bridles as could be found.

They were every where to give out that this was the vanguard of the
British army, which would soon follow on its way to Boston, and would be
joined by the army from Rhode Island. Before relating the events of this
expedition, we will turn to notice those of the detachment under St.
Leger, with which it was intended to co-operate, and which was investing
Fort Schuyler.

This fort, built in 1756, on the site of an old French fortification,
and formerly called Fort Stanwix, from a British general of that name,
was situated on the right bank of the Mohawk River, at the head of its
navigation, and commanding the carrying-place between it and Wood Creek,
whence the boats passed to the Oneida Lake, the Oswego River, and Lake
Ontario. It was thus a key to the intercourse between Upper Canada and
the valley of the Mohawk. The fort was square, with four bastions, and
was originally a place of strength; having bomb-proof magazines, a deep
moat and drawbridge, a sally port, and covered way. In the long interval
of peace subsequent to the French war, it had fallen to decay. Recently
it had been repaired by order of General Schuyler, and had received his
name. It was garrisoned by seven hundred and fifty Continental troops
from New York and Massachusetts, and was under the command of Colonel
Gansevoort of the New York line, a stout-hearted officer of Dutch
descent, who had served under General Montgomery in Canada.

It was a motley force which appeared before it; British, Hessian,
Royalist, Canadian and Indian, about seventeen hundred in all. Among
them were St. Leger’s rangers and Sir John Johnson’s royalist corps,
called his greens. Many of the latter had followed Sir John into Canada
from the valley of the Mohawk, and were now returned to bring the
horrors of war among their former neighbors. The Indians, their worthy
allies, were led by the famous Brant.

On the 3d of August, St. Leger sent in a flag with a summons to
surrender; accompanied by a proclamation in style and spirit similar to
that recently issued by Burgoyne, and intended to operate on the
garrison. Both his summons and his proclamation were disregarded. He now
set his troops to work to fortify his camp and clear obstructions from
Wood Creek and the roads, for the transportation of artillery and
provisions, and sent out scouting parties of Indians in all directions,
to cut off all communication of the garrison with the surrounding
country. A few shells were thrown into the fort. The chief annoyance of
the garrison was from the Indians firing with their rifles from behind
trees on those busied in repairing the parapets. At night they seemed
completely to surround the fort, filling the woods with their yells and
howlings.

On the 6th of August, three men made their way into the fort through a
swamp, which the enemy had deemed impassable. They brought the cheering
intelligence that General Herkimer, the veteran commander of the militia
of Tryon County, was at Oriskany, about eight miles distant, with
upwards of eight hundred men. The people of that country were many of
them of German origin; some of them Germans by birth. Herkimer was among
the former; a large and powerful man, about sixty-five years of age. He
requested Colonel Gansevoort, through his two messengers, to fire three
signal-guns on receiving word of his vicinage; upon hearing which, he
would endeavor to force his way to the fort, depending upon the
co-operation of the garrison.

The messengers had been despatched by Herkimer on the evening of the
5th, and he had calculated that they would reach the fort at a very
early hour in the morning. Through some delay, they did not reach it
until between ten and eleven o’clock. Gansevoort instantly complied with
the message. Three signal-guns were fired, and Colonel Willett, of the
New York Continentals, with two hundred and fifty men and an iron
three-pounder was detached to make a diversion, by attacking that part
of the enemy’s camp occupied by Johnson and his royalists.

The delay of the messengers in the night, however, disconcerted the plan
of Herkimer. He marshalled his troops by daybreak and waited for the
signal-guns. Hour after hour elapsed, but no gun was heard. His officers
became impatient of delay, and urged an immediate march. Herkimer
represented that they were too weak to force their way to the fort
without reinforcements, or without being sure of co-operation from the
garrison, and was still for awaiting the preconcerted signals. High
words ensued between him and two of his officers. He had a brother and
other relatives among the enemy, and hence there were some doubts of his
fidelity; though they subsequently proved to be unmerited. Colonels Cox
and Paris were particularly urgent for an advance, and suspicious of the
motives for holding back. Paris was a prominent man in Tryon County, and
member of the committee of safety, and in compliance with the wishes of
that committee, accompanied Herkimer as his volunteer aide. Losing his
temper in the dispute, he accused the latter of being either a tory or a
coward. “No,” replied the brave old man, “I feel toward you all as a
father, and will not lead you into a scrape from which I cannot
extricate you.” His discretion, however, was overpowered by repeated
taunts, and he at length, about nine o’clock, gave the word to march;
intimating, however, that those who were the most eager to advance,
would be the first to run away.

The march was rather dogged and irregular. There was ill-humor between
the general and his officers. Colonels Paris and Cox advised him to
throw out a reconnoitring party in the advance, but he disregarded their
advice, and perhaps in very opposition to it, neglected so necessary a
precaution. About ten o’clock they came to a place where the road was
carried on a causeway of logs across a deep marshy ravine, between high
level banks. The main division descended into the ravine, followed by
the baggage waggons. They had scarcely crossed it, when enemies suddenly
sprang up in front and on each side, with deadly volleys of musketry,
and deafening yells and war-whoops. In fact, St. Leger, apprised by his
scouts of their intended approach, had sent a force to waylay them. This
was composed of a division of Johnson’s greens, led by his
brother-in-law, Major Watts; a company of rangers under Colonel Butler,
a refugee from this neighborhood, and a strong body of Indians under
Brant. The troops were stationed in front just beyond the ravine; the
Indians along each side of the road. The plan of the ambuscade was to
let the van of the Americans pass the ravine and advance between the
concealed parties, when the attack was to be commenced by the troops in
front, after which, the Indians were to fall on the Americans in rear
and cut off all retreat.

The savages, however, could not restrain their natural ferocity and hold
back as ordered, but discharged their rifles simultaneously with the
troops, and instantly rushed forward with spears and tomahawks, yelling
like demons, and commencing a dreadful butchery. The rear-guard, which
had not entered the ravine, retreated. The main body, though thrown into
confusion, defended themselves bravely. One of those severe conflicts
ensued, common in Indian warfare, where the combatants take post with
their rifles, behind rock and tree, or come to deadly struggle with
knife and tomahawk.

The veteran Herkimer was wounded early in the action. A musket ball
shattered his leg just below the knee, killing his horse at the same
time. He made his men place him on his saddle at the foot of a large
beach tree, against the trunk of which he leaned, continuing to give his
orders.

The regulars attempted to charge with the bayonet; but the Americans
formed themselves in circles back to back, and repelled them. A heavy
storm of thunder and rain caused a temporary lull to the fight, during
which the patriots changed their ground. Some of them stationed
themselves in pairs behind trees; so that when one had fired the other
could cover him until he had reloaded; for the savages were apt to rush
up with knife and tomahawk the moment a man had discharged his piece.
Johnson’s greens came up to sustain the Indians, who were giving way,
and now was the fiercest part of the fight. Old neighbors met in deadly
feud; former intimacy gave bitterness to present hate, and war was
literally carried to the knife; for the bodies of combatants were
afterwards found on the field of battle, grappled in death, with the
hand still grasping the knife plunged in a neighbor’s heart. The very
savages seemed inspired with unusual ferocity by the confusion and death
struggle around them, and the sight of their prime warriors and favorite
chiefs shot down. In their blind fury they attacked the white men
indiscriminately, friend or foe, so that in this chance-medley fight
many of Sir John’s greens were slain by his own Indian allies.

A confusion reigns over the accounts of this fight; in which every one
saw little but what occurred in his immediate vicinity. The Indians, at
length, having lost many of their bravest warriors, gave the retreating
cry, Oonah! Oonah! and fled to the woods. The greens and rangers,
hearing a firing in the direction of the fort, feared an attack upon
their camp, and hastened to its defence, carrying off with them many
prisoners. The Americans did not pursue them, but placing their wounded
on litters made of branches of trees, returned to Oriskany. Both parties
have claimed the victory; but it does not appear that either was
entitled to it. The dead of both parties lay for days unburied on the
field of action, and a wounded officer of the enemy (Major Watts)
remained there two days unrelieved, until found by an Indian scout. It
would seem as if each party gladly abandoned this scene of one of the
most savage conflicts of the Revolution. The Americans had two hundred
killed, and a number wounded. Several of these were officers. The loss
of the enemy is thought to have been equally great as to numbers; but
then the difference in value between regulars and militia! the former
often the refuse of mankind, mere hirelings, whereas among the privates
of the militia, called out from their homes to defend their
neighborhood, were many of the worthiest and most valuable of the
yeomanry. The premature haste of the Indians in attacking, had saved the
Americans from being completely surrounded. The rear-guard, not having
entered the defile, turned and made a rapid retreat, but were pursued by
the Indians, and suffered greatly in a running fight. We may add that
those who had been most urgent with General Herkimer for this movement,
were among the first to suffer from it. Colonel Cox was shot down at the
first fire, so was a son of Colonel Paris; the colonel himself was taken
prisoner, and fell beneath the tomahawk of the famous Red Jacket.

As to General Herkimer, he was conveyed to his residence on the Mohawk
River, and died nine days after the battle, not so much from his wound
as from bad surgery; sinking gradually through loss of blood from an
unskilful amputation. He died like a philosopher and a Christian,
smoking his pipe and reading his Bible to the last. His name has been
given to a county in that part of the State.[53]

The sortie of Colonel Willett had been spirited and successful. He
attacked the encampments of Sir John Johnson and the Indians, which were
contiguous, and strong detachments of which were absent on the
ambuscade. Sir John and his men were driven to the river; the Indians
fled to the woods. Willett sacked their camps; loaded waggons with camp
equipage, clothing, blankets, and stores of all kinds, seized the
baggage and papers of Sir John and of several of his officers, and
retreated safely to the fort, just as St. Leger was coming up with a
powerful reinforcement. Five colors, which he had brought away with him
as trophies, were displayed under the flag of the fort, while his men
gave three cheers from the ramparts.

St. Leger now endeavored to operate on the fears of the garrison. His
prisoners, it is said, were compelled to write a letter, giving dismal
accounts of the affair of Oriskany, and of the impossibility of getting
any succor to the garrison; of the probability that Burgoyne and his
army were then before Albany, and advising surrender to prevent
inevitable destruction. It is probable they were persuaded, rather than
compelled, to write the letter, which took its tone from their own
depressed feelings and the misrepresentations of those around them. St.
Leger accompanied the letter with warnings that, should the garrison
persist in resistance, he would not be able to restrain the fury of the
savages; who, though held in check for the present, threatened, if
further provoked, to revenge the deaths of their warriors and chiefs by
slaughtering the garrison, and laying waste the whole valley of the
Mohawk.

All this failing to shake the resolution of Gansevoort, St. Leger next
issued an appeal to the inhabitants of Tryon County, signed by their old
neighbors, Sir John Johnson, Colonel Claus and Colonel Butler, promising
pardon and protection to all who should submit to royal authority, and
urging them to send a deputation of their principal men to overcome the
mulish obstinacy of the garrison, and save the whole surrounding country
from Indian ravage and massacre. The people of the county, however, were
as little to be moved as the garrison.

St. Leger now began to lose heart. The fort proved more capable of
defence than he had anticipated. His artillery was too light, and the
ramparts, being of sod, were not easily battered. He was obliged
reluctantly to resort to the slow process of sapping and mining, and
began to make regular approaches.

Gansevoort, seeing the siege was likely to be protracted, resolved to
send to General Schuyler for succor. Colonel Willett volunteered to
undertake the perilous errand. He was accompanied by Lieutenant
Stockwell, an excellent woodsman, who served as a guide. They left the
fort on the 10th, after dark, by a sally port, passed by the British
sentinels and close by the Indian camp, without being discovered, and
made their way through bog and morass and pathless forests, and all
kinds of risks and hardships, until they reached the German Flats on the
Mohawk. Here Willett procured a couple of horses, and by dint of hoof
arrived at the camp of General Schuyler at Stillwater. A change had come
over the position of that commander four days previous to the arrival of
Colonel Willett, as we shall relate in the ensuing chapter.

CHAPTER XVI.

SCHUYLER HEARS OF THE AFFAIR OF ORISKANY—APPLIES FOR
REINFORCEMENTS—HIS APPEAL TO THE PATRIOTISM OF STARK—SCHUYLER
SUPERSEDED—HIS CONDUCT THEREUPON—RELIEF SENT TO FORT STANWIX—ARNOLD
VOLUNTEERS TO CONDUCT IT—CHANGE OF ENCAMPMENT—PATRIOTIC
DETERMINATION OF SCHUYLER—DETACHMENT OF THE ENEMY AGAINST
BENNINGTON—GERMANS AND THEIR INDIAN ALLIES—BAUM, THE HESSIAN
LEADER—STARK IN THE FIELD—MUSTERING OF THE MILITIA—A BELLIGERENT
PARSON—BATTLE OF BENNINGTON—BREYMAN TO THE RESCUE—ROUTED—RECEPTION
OF THE NEWS IN THE RIVAL CAMPS—WASHINGTON URGES NEW ENGLAND TO
FOLLOW UP THE BLOW.

Schuyler was in Albany in the early part of August, making stirring
appeals in every direction for reinforcements. Burgoyne was advancing
upon him; he had received news of the disastrous affair of Oriskany, and
the death of General Herkimer, and Tryon County was crying to him for
assistance. One of his appeals was to the veteran John Stark, the
comrade of Putnam in the French war and the battle of Bunker’s Hill. He
had his farm in the Hampshire Grants, and his name was a tower of
strength among the Green Mountain Boys. But Stark was soured with
government, and had retired from service, his name having been omitted
in the list of promotions. Hearing that he was on a visit to Lincoln’s
camp at Manchester, Schuyler wrote to that general, “Assure General
Stark that I have acquainted Congress of his situation, and that I trust
and entreat he will, in the present alarming crisis, waive his right;
the greater the sacrifice he makes to his feelings, the greater will be
the honor due to him for not having suffered any consideration whatever,
to come in competition with the weal of his country: entreat him to
march immediately to our army.”

Schuyler had instant call to practise the very virtue he was
inculcating. He was about to mount his horse on the 10th, to return to
the camp at Stillwater, when a despatch from Congress was put into his
hand containing the resolves which recalled him to attend a court of
inquiry about the affair of Ticonderoga, and requested Washington to
appoint an officer to succeed him.

Schuyler felt deeply the indignity of being thus recalled at a time when
an engagement was apparently at hand, but endeavored to console himself
with the certainty that a thorough investigation of his conduct would
prove how much he was entitled to the thanks of his country. He
intimated the same in his reply to Congress; in the mean time, he
considered it his duty to remain at his post until his successor should
arrive, or some officer in the department be nominated to the command.
Returning, therefore, to the camp at Stillwater, he continued to conduct
the affairs of the army with unremitting zeal. “Until the country is in
safety,” said he, “I will stifle my resentment.”

His first care was to send relief to Gansevoort and his beleaguered
garrison. Eight hundred men were all that he could spare from his army
in its present threatened state. A spirited and effective officer was
wanted to lead them. Arnold was in camp; recently sent on as an
efficient coadjutor, by Washington; he was in a state of exasperation
against the government, having just learnt that the question of rank had
been decided against him in Congress. Indeed, he would have retired
instantly from the service, had not Schuyler prevailed on him to remain
until the impending danger was over. It was hardly to be expected, that
in his irritated mood he would accept the command of the detachment, if
offered to him. Arnold, however, was a combustible character. The
opportunity of an exploit flashed on his adventurous spirit. He stepped
promptly forward and volunteered to lead the enterprise. “No public nor
private injury or insult,” said he, “shall prevail on me to forsake the
cause of my injured and oppressed country, until I see peace and liberty
restored to her, or nobly die in the attempt.”[54]

After the departure of this detachment, it was unanimously determined in
a council of war of Schuyler and his general officers, that the post at
Stillwater was altogether untenable with their actual force; part of the
army, therefore, retired to the islands at the fords on the mouth of the
Mohawk River, where it empties into the Hudson, and a brigade was posted
above the Falls of the Mohawk, called the Cohoes, to prevent the enemy
from crossing there. It was considered a strong position, where they
could not be attacked without great disadvantage to the assailant.

The feelings of Schuyler were more and more excited as the game of war
appeared drawing to a crisis. “I am resolved,” writes he to his friend
Duane, “to make another sacrifice to my country, and risk the censure of
Congress by remaining in this quarter _after_ I am relieved, and
bringing up the militia to the support of this weak army.”

As yet he did not know who was to be his successor in the command. A
letter from Duane informed him that General Gates was the man.

Still the noble part of Schuyler’s nature was in the ascendant. “Your
fears may be up,” writes he in reply, “lest the ill-treatment I have
experienced at his hands, should so far get the better of my judgment as
to embarrass him. Do not, my dear friend, be uneasy on that account. I
am incapable of sacrificing my country to a resentment, however just;
and I trust I shall give an example of what a good citizen ought to do
when he is in my situation.”

We will now take a view of occurrences on the right and left of
Burgoyne, and show the effect of Schuyler’s measures, poorly seconded as
they were, in crippling and straitening the invading army. And first, we
will treat of the expedition against Bennington. This was a central
place, whither the live stock was driven from various parts of the
Hampshire Grants, and whence the American army derived its supplies. It
was a great deposit, also, of grain of various kinds, and of wheel
carriages; the usual guard was militia, varying from day to day.
Bennington was to be surprised. The country was to be scoured from
Rockingham to Otter Creek in quest of provisions for the army, horses
and oxen for draft, and horses for the cavalry. All public magazines
were to be sacked. All cattle belonging to royalists, and which could be
spared by their owners, were to be paid for. All rebel flocks and herds
were to be driven away.

Generals Phillips and Riedesel demurred strongly to the expedition, but
their counsels were outweighed by those of Colonel Skene, the royalist.
He knew, he said, all the country thereabout. The inhabitants were as
five to one in favor of the royal cause, and would be prompt to turn out
on the first appearance of a protecting army. He was to accompany the
expedition, and much was expected from his personal influence and
authority.

Lieutenant-colonel Baum was to command the detachment. He had under him,
according to Burgoyne, two hundred dismounted dragoons of the regiment
of Riedesel, Captain Fraser’s marksmen, which were the only British, all
the Canadian volunteers, a party of the provincials who perfectly knew
the country, one hundred Indians, and two light pieces of cannon. The
whole detachment amounted to about five hundred men. The dragoons, it
was expected, would supply themselves with horses in the course of the
foray; and a skeleton corps of royalists would be filled up by recruits.

The Germans had no great liking for the Indians as fellow-campaigners;
especially those who had come from Upper Canada under St. Luc. “These
savages are heathens, huge, warlike and enterprising, but wicked as
Satan,” writes a Hessian officer. “Some say they are cannibals, but I do
not believe it; though in their fury they will tear the flesh off their
enemies with their teeth. They have a martial air, and their wild
ornaments become them.”[55] St. Luc, who commanded them, had been a
terror to the English colonists in the French war, and it was intimated
that he possessed great treasures of “old English scalps.” He and his
warriors, however, had disappeared from camp since the affair of Miss
McCrea. The present were Indians from Lower Canada.

The choice of German troops for this foray, was much sneered at by the
British officers. “A corps could not have been found in the whole army,”
said they, “so unfit for a service requiring rapidity of motion, as
Riedesel’s dragoons. The very hat and sword of one of them weighed
nearly as much as the whole equipment of a British soldier. The worst
British regiment in the service would march two miles to their one.”

To be nearer at hand in case assistance should be required Burgoyne
encamped on the east side of the Hudson, nearly opposite Saratoga,
throwing over a bridge of boats by which General Fraser, with the
advanced guard, crossed to that place. Colonel Baum set out from camp at
break of day, on the 13th of August. All that had been predicted of his
movements was verified. The badness of the road, the excessive heat of
the weather, and the want of carriages and horses were alleged in
excuse; but slow and unapt men ever meet with impediments. Some cattle,
carts and waggons, were captured at Cambridge; a few horses also were
brought in; but the Indians killed or drove off all that fell into their
hands, unless they were paid in cash for their prizes. “The country
people of these parts,” writes the Hessian narrator, “came in crowds to
Governor Skene, as he was called, and took the oath of allegiance; but
even these faithless people,” adds he, “were subsequently our bitterest
assailants.”

Baum was too slow a man to take a place by surprise. The people of
Bennington heard of his approach and were on the alert. The veteran
Stark was there with eight or nine hundred troops. During the late
alarms the militia of the State had been formed into two brigades, one
to be commanded by General William Whipple; Stark had with difficulty
been prevailed upon to accept the command of the other, upon the express
condition that he should not be obliged to join the main army, but
should be left to his own discretion, to make war in his own partisan
style, hovering about the enemy in their march through the country, and
accountable to none but the authorities of New Hampshire.

General Lincoln had informed Stark of the orders of General Schuyler,
that all the militia should repair to Stillwater, but the veteran
refused to comply. He had taken up arms, he said, in a moment of
exigency, to defend the neighborhood, which would be exposed to the
ravages of the enemy, should he leave it, and he held himself
accountable solely to the authorities of New Hampshire. This act of
insubordination might have involved the doughty but somewhat testy old
general in subsequent difficulty, had not his sword carved out an ample
excuse for him.

Having heard that Indians had appeared at Cambridge, twelve miles to the
north of Bennington, on the 13th, he sent out two hundred men under
Colonel Gregg in quest of them. In the course of the night he learnt
that they were mere scouts in advance of a force marching upon
Bennington. He immediately rallied his brigade, called out the militia
of the neighborhood, and sent off for Colonel Seth Warner (the quondam
associate of Ethan Allen) and his regiment of militia, who were with
General Lincoln at Manchester.

Lincoln instantly detached them, and Warner and his men marched all
night through drenching rain, arriving at Stark’s camp in the morning,
dripping wet.

Stark left them at Bennington to dry and rest themselves, and then to
follow on; in the mean time, he pushed forward with his men to support
the party sent out the preceding day, under Gregg, in quest of the
Indians. He met them about five miles off in full retreat, Baum and his
force a mile in their rear.

Stark halted and prepared for action. Baum also halted; posted himself
on a high ground at a bend of the little river Walloomscoick, and began
to intrench himself. Stark fell back a mile, to wait for reinforcements
and draw down Baum from his strong position. A skirmish took place
between the advance guards; thirty of Baum’s men were killed and two
Indian chiefs.

An incessant rain on the 15th prevented an attack on Baum’s camp, but
there was continual skirmishing. The colonel strengthened his
intrenchments, and finding he had a larger force to contend with than he
had anticipated, sent off in all haste to Burgoyne for reinforcements.
Colonel Breyman marched off immediately, with five hundred Hessian
grenadiers and infantry and two six-pounders, leaving behind him his
tents, baggage, and standards. He, also, found the roads so deep, and
the horses so bad, that he was nearly two days getting four and twenty
miles. The tactics of the Hessians were against them. “So foolishly
attached were they to forms of discipline,” writes a British historian,
“that in marching through thickets they stopped ten times an hour to
dress their ranks.” It was here, in fact, that they most dreaded the
American rifle. “In the open field,” said they, “the rebels are not
much; but they are redoubtable in the woods.”[56]

In the mean time the more alert and active Americans had been mustering
from all quarters to Stark’s assistance, with such weapons as they had
at hand. During the night of the 15th, Colonel Symonds arrived with a
body of Berkshire militia. Among them was a belligerent parson, full of
fight, Allen by name, possibly of the bellicose family of the hero of
Ticonderoga. “General,” cried he, “the people of Berkshire have been
often called out to no purpose; if you don’t give them a chance to fight
now they will never turn out again.” “You would not turn out now, while
it is dark and raining, would you?” demanded Stark. “Not just now,” was
the reply. “Well, if the Lord should once more give us sunshine, and I
don’t give you fighting enough,” rejoined the veteran, “I’ll never ask
you to turn out again.”

On the following morning the sun shone bright, and Stark prepared to
attack Baum in his intrenchments; though he had no artillery, and his
men, for the most part, had only their ordinary brown firelocks without
bayonets. Two hundred of his men, under Colonel Nichols, were detached
to the rear of the enemy’s left; three hundred under Colonel Herrick, to
the rear of his right; they were to join their forces and attack him in
the rear, while Colonels Hubbard and Stickney, with two hundred men,
diverted his attention in front.

Colonel Skene and the royalists, when they saw the Americans issuing out
of the woods on different sides, persuaded themselves, and endeavored to
persuade Baum, that these were the royal people of the country flocking
to his standard. The Indians were the first to discover the truth. “The
woods are full of Yankees,” cried they, and retreated in single file
between the troops of Nichols and Herrick, yelling like demons and
jingling cow bells. Several of them, however, were killed or wounded as
they thus ran the gauntlet.

At the first sound of fire-arms, Stark, who had remained with the main
body in camp, mounted his horse and gave the word, _forward!_ He had
promised his men the plunder of the British camp. The homely speech made
by him when in sight of the enemy, has often been cited. “Now, my men!
There are the red coats! Before night they must be ours, or Molly Stark
will be a widow!”

Baum soon found himself assailed on every side, but he defended his
works bravely. His two pieces of artillery, advantageously planted, were
very effective, and his troops, if slow in march, were steady in action.
For two hours the discharge of fire-arms was said to have been like the
constant rattling of the drum. Stark in his despatches compared it to a
“continued clap of thunder.” It was the hottest fight he had ever seen.
He inspired his men with his own impetuosity. They drove the royalist
troops upon the Hessians, and pressing after them stormed the works with
irresistible fury. A Hessian eye-witness declares that this time the
rebels fought with desperation, pressing within eight paces of the
loaded cannon to take surer aim at the artillerists. The latter were
slain; the cannon captured. The royalists and Canadians took to flight,
and escaped to the woods. The Germans still kept their ground, and
fought bravely, until there was not a cartridge left. Baum and his
dragoons then took to their broadswords and the infantry to their
bayonets, and endeavored to cut their way to a road in the woods, but in
vain; many were killed, more wounded, Baum among the number, and all who
survived were taken prisoners.[57]

The victors now dispersed, some to collect booty, some to attend to the
wounded, some to guard the prisoners, and some to seek refreshment,
being exhausted by hunger and fatigue. At this critical juncture,
Breyman’s tardy reinforcement came, making its way heavily and slowly to
the scene of action, joined by many of the enemy who had fled. Attempts
were made to rally the militia; but they were in complete confusion.
Nothing would have saved them from defeat, had not Colonel Seth Warner’s
corps fortunately arrived from Bennington, fresh from repose, and
advanced to meet the enemy, while the others regained their ranks. It
was four o’clock in the afternoon when this second action commenced. It
was fought from wood to wood and hill to hill, for several miles, until
sunset. The last stand of the enemy was at Van Schaick’s mill, where,
having expended all their ammunition, of which each man had forty
rounds, they gave way, and retreated, under favor of the night, leaving
two field-pieces and all their baggage in the hands of the Americans.
Stark ceased to pursue them, lest in the darkness his men should fire
upon each other. “Another hour of daylight,” said he in his report, “and
I should have captured the whole body.” The veteran had had a horse shot
under him, but escaped without wound or bruise.

Four brass field-pieces, nine hundred dragoon swords, a thousand stand
of arms, and four ammunition waggons were the spoils of this victory.
Thirty-two officers, five hundred and sixty-four privates, including
Canadians and loyalists, were taken prisoners. The number of slain was
very considerable, but could not be ascertained; many having fallen in
the woods. The brave but unfortunate Baum did not long survive. The
Americans had one hundred killed and wounded.

Burgoyne was awakened in his camp towards daylight of the 17th, by
tidings that Colonel Baum had surrendered. Next came word that Colonel
Breyman was engaged in severe and doubtful conflict. The whole army was
roused, and were preparing to hasten to his assistance, when one report
after another gave assurance that he was on his way back in safety. The
main body, therefore, remained in camp at the Batten kiln; but Burgoyne
forded that stream with the 47th regiment and pushed forward until 4
o’clock, when he met Breyman and his troops, weary and haggard with hard
fighting and hard marching, in hot weather. In the evening all returned
to their old encampments.[58]

General Schuyler was encamped on Van Schaick’s Island at the mouth of
the Mohawk River, when a letter from General Lincoln, dated Bennington,
Aug. 18th, informed him of “the capital blow given the enemy by General
Stark.” “I trust,” replies he, Aug. 19th, “that the severity with which
they have been handled will retard General Burgoyne’s progress. Part of
his force was yesterday afternoon about three miles and a half above
Stillwater. If the enemy have entirely left that part of the country you
are in, I think it would be advisable for you to move towards Hudson
River tending towards Stillwater.”

“Governor Clinton,” writes he to Stark on the same day, “is coming up
with a body of militia, and I trust that after what the enemy have
experienced from you, their progress will be retarded, and that we shall
see them driven out of this part of the country.”

He now hoped to hear that Arnold had raised the siege of Fort Stanwix.
“If that take place,” said he, “it will be possible to engage two or
three hundred Indians to join this army, and Congress may rest assured
that my best endeavors shall not be wanting to accomplish it.”

Tidings of the affair of Bennington reached Washington, just before he
moved his camp from the neighborhood of Philadelphia to Wilmington, and
it relieved his mind from a world of anxious perplexity. In a letter to
Putnam he writes, “As there is not now the least danger of General
Howe’s going to New England, I hope the whole force of that country will
turn out, and, by following the great stroke struck by General Stark
near Bennington, entirely crush General Burgoyne, who, by his letter to
Colonel Baum, seems to be in want of almost every thing.”

We will now give the fate of Burgoyne’s detachment, under St. Leger,
sent to capture Fort Stanwix, and ravage the valley of the Mohawk.

CHAPTER XVII.

STRATAGEM OF ARNOLD TO RELIEVE FORT STANWIX—YAN YOST CUYLER—THE SIEGE
PRESSED—INDIANS INTRACTABLE—SUCCESS OF ARNOLD’S STRATAGEM—HARASSED
RETREAT OF ST. LEGER—MORAL EFFECT OF THE TWO BLOWS GIVEN TO THE
ENEMY—BRIGHTENING PROSPECTS IN THE AMERICAN CAMP—ARRIVAL OF
GATES—MAGNANIMOUS CONDUCT OF SCHUYLER—POORLY REQUITED BY
GATES—CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN GATES AND BURGOYNE CONCERNING THE
MURDER OF MISS MC CREA.

Arnold’s march to the relief of Fort Stanwix, was slower than suited his
ardent and impatient spirit. He was detained in the valley of the Mohawk
by bad roads, by the necessity of waiting for baggage and ammunition
waggons, and for militia recruits who turned out reluctantly. He sent
missives to Colonel Gansevoort assuring him that he would relieve him in
the course of a few days. “Be under no kind of apprehension,” writes he.
“I know the strength of the enemy, and _how to deal with them_.”

In fact, conscious of the smallness of his force, he had resorted to
stratagem, sending emissaries ahead to spread exaggerated reports of the
number of his troops, so as to work on the fears of the enemy’s Indian
allies and induce them to desert. The most important of these emissaries
was one Yan Yost Cuyler, an eccentric half-witted fellow, known
throughout the country as a rank tory. He had been convicted as a spy,
and only spared from the halter on the condition that he would go into
St. Leger’s camp, and spread alarming reports among the Indians, by whom
he was well known. To insure a faithful discharge of his mission, Arnold
detained his brother as a hostage.

On his way up the Mohawk Valley, Arnold was joined by a New York
regiment, under Colonel James Livingston, sent by Gates to reinforce
him. On arriving at the German Flats he received an express from Colonel
Gansevoort, informing him that he was still besieged, but in high
spirits and under no apprehensions. In a letter to Gates, written from
the German Flats (August 21st), Arnold says, “I leave this place this
morning with twelve hundred Continental troops and a handful of militia
for Fort Schuyler, still besieged by a number equal to ours. You will
hear of my being victorious—or no more. As soon as the safety of this
part of the country will permit, I will fly to your assistance.”[59]

All this while St. Leger was advancing his parallels and pressing the
siege; while provisions and ammunition were rapidly decreasing within
the fort. St. Leger’s Indian allies, however, were growing sullen and
intractable. This slow kind of warfare, this war with the spade, they
were unaccustomed to, and they by no means relished it. Beside, they had
been led to expect easy times, little fighting, many scalps, and much
plunder; whereas they had fought hard, lost many of their best chiefs,
been checked in their cruelty, and gained no booty.

At this juncture, scouts brought word that a force one thousand strong
was marching to the relief of the fort. Eager to put his savages in
action, St. Leger in a council of war offered to their chiefs to place
himself at their head, with three hundred of his best troops, and meet
the enemy as they advanced. It was agreed, and they sallied forth
together to choose a fighting ground. By this time rumors stole into the
camp doubling the number of the approaching enemy. Burgoyne’s whole army
were said to have been defeated. Lastly came Yan Yost Cuyler, with his
coat full of bullet holes, giving out that he had escaped from the hands
of the Americans, and had been fired upon by them. His story was
believed, for his wounded coat corroborated it, and he was known to be a
royalist. Mingling among his old acquaintances, the Indians, he assured
them that the Americans were close at hand and “numerous as the leaves
on the trees.”

Arnold’s stratagem succeeded. The Indians, fickle as the winds, began to
desert. Sir John Johnson and Colonels Claus and Butler endeavored in
vain to reassure and retain them. In a little while two hundred had
decamped, and the rest threatened to do so likewise, unless St. Leger
retreated.

The unfortunate colonel found too late what little reliance was to be
placed upon Indian allies. He determined on the 22d, to send off his
sick, his wounded, and his artillery by Wood Creek that very night, and
to protect them by the line of march. The Indians, however, goaded on by
Arnold’s emissaries, insisted on instant retreat. St. Leger still
refused to depart before nightfall. The savages now became ungovernable.
They seized upon liquor of the officers about to be embarked, and
getting intoxicated, behaved like very fiends.

In a word, St. Leger was obliged to decamp about noon, in such hurry and
confusion that he left his tents standing, and his artillery, with most
of his baggage, ammunition and stores, fell into the hands of the
Americans.

A detachment from the garrison pursued and harassed him for a time; but
his greatest annoyance was from his Indian allies, who plundered the
boats which conveyed such baggage as had been brought off; murdered all
stragglers who lagged in the rear, and amused themselves by giving false
alarms to keep up the panic of the soldiery; who would throw away
muskets, knapsacks, and every thing that impeded their flight.

It was not until he reached Onondaga Falls, that St. Leger discovered by
a letter from Burgoyne, and floating reports brought by the bearer, that
he had been the dupe of a _ruse de guerre_, and that at the time the
advancing foe were reported to be close upon his haunches, they were not
within forty miles of him.

Such was the second blow to Burgoyne’s invading army; but before the
news of it reached that doomed commander, he had already been half
paralyzed by the disaster at Bennington.

The moral effect of these two blows was such as Washington had
predicted. Fortune, so long adverse, seemed at length to have taken a
favorable turn. People were roused from their despondency. There was a
sudden exultation throughout the country. The savages had disappeared in
their native forests. The German veterans, so much vaunted and dreaded,
had been vanquished by militia, and British artillery captured by men,
some of whom had never seen a cannon.

Means were now augmenting in Schuyler’s hands. Colonels Livingston and
Pierre van Cortlandt, forwarded by Putnam, were arrived. Governor
Clinton was daily expected with New York militia from the Highlands. The
arrival of Arnold was anticipated with troops and artillery, and Lincoln
with the New England militia. At this propitious moment, when every
thing was ready for the sickle to be put into the harvest, General Gates
arrived in the camp.

Schuyler received him with the noble courtesy to which he pledged
himself. After acquainting him with all the affairs of the department,
the measures he had taken and those he had projected; he informed him of
his having signified to Congress his intention to remain in that quarter
for the present, and render every service in his power; and he entreated
Gates to call upon him for council and assistance whenever he thought
proper.

Gates was in high spirits. His letters to Washington show how completely
he was aware that an easy path of victory had been opened for him. “Upon
my leaving Philadelphia,” writes he, “the prospect this way appeared
most gloomy, but the severe checks the enemy have met with at Bennington
and Tryon County, have given a more pleasing view of public affairs.
Particular accounts of the signal victory gained by General Stark, and
of the severe blow General Herkimer gave Sir John Johnson and the
scalpers under his command, have been transmitted to your Excellency by
General Schuyler. I anxiously expect the arrival of an express from
General Arnold, with an account of the total defeat of the enemy in that
quarter.

“I cannot sufficiently thank your Excellency for sending Colonel
Morgan’s corps to this army. They will be of the greatest service to it;
for, until the late success this way, I am told the army were quite
panic-struck by the Indians, and their tory and Canadian assassins in
Indian dress.”

Governor Clinton was immediately expected in camp, and he intended to
consult with him and General Lincoln upon the best plan to distress,
and, he hoped, finally to defeat the enemy. “We shall no doubt,” writes
he, “unanimously agree in sentiment with your Excellency, to keep
Generals Lincoln and Stark upon the flank and rear of the enemy, while
the main body opposes them in front.”

Not a word does he say of consulting Schuyler, who, more than any one
else, was acquainted with the department and its concerns, who was in
constant correspondence with Washington, and had co-operated with him in
effecting the measures which had produced the present promising
situation of affairs. So far was he from responding to Schuyler’s
magnanimity, and profiting by his nobly offered counsel and assistance,
that he did not even ask him to be present at his first council of war,
although he invited up General Ten Broeck of the militia from Albany to
attend it.

His conduct in this respect provoked a caustic remark from the
celebrated Gouverneur Morris. “The commander-in-chief of the Northern
department,” said he, “may, if he please, neglect to ask or disdain to
receive advice, but those who know him will, I am sure, be convinced
that he wants it.”

Gates opened hostilities against Burgoyne with the pen. He had received
a letter from that commander, complaining of the harsh treatment
experienced by the royalists captured at Bennington. “Duty and
principle,” writes Burgoyne, “made me a public enemy to the Americans
who have taken up arms; but I seek to be a generous one; nor have I the
shadow of resentment against any individual who does not induce it by
acts derogatory to those maxims upon which all men of honor think
alike.”

There was nothing in this that was not borne out by the conduct and
character of Burgoyne; but Gates seized upon the occasion to assail that
commander in no measured terms in regard to his Indian allies.

“That the savages,” said he, “should in their warfare mangle the unhappy
prisoners who fall into their hands, is neither new or extraordinary;
but that the famous General Burgoyne, in whom the fine gentleman is
united with the scholar, should hire the savages of America to scalp
Europeans: nay more, that he should pay a price for each scalp so
barbarously taken, is more than will be believed in Europe, until
authenticated facts shall in every gazette confirm the horrid tale.”

After this prelude, he went on to state the murder of Miss McCrea,
alleging that her murderer was employed by Burgoyne. “Two parents,”
added he, “with their six children, were treated with the same
inhumanity while quietly resting in their once happy and peaceful
dwelling. Upwards of one hundred men, women and children, have perished
by the hands of the ruffians, to whom it is asserted you have paid the
price of blood.”

Gates showed his letter to General Lincoln and Colonel Wilkinson, who
demurred to its personality; but he evidently conceived it an
achievement of the pen, and spurned their criticism.[60]

Burgoyne, in a manly reply, declared that he would have disdained to
justify himself from such rhapsodies of fiction and calumny, but that
his silence might be construed into an admission of their truth, and
lead to acts of retaliation. He pronounced all the intelligence cited
respecting the cruelties of the Indians to be false, with the exception
of the case of Miss McCrea. This he put in its true light, adding, that
it had been as sincerely lamented and abhorred by him, as it could be by
the tenderest of her friends. “I would not,” declared he, “be conscious
of the acts you presume to impute to me, for the whole continent of
America; though the wealth of worlds was in its bowels, and a paradise
upon its surface.”

We have already shown what was the real conduct of Burgoyne in this
deplorable affair, and General Gates could and should have ascertained
it, before “he presumed to impute” to a gallant antagonist and a humane
and cultivated gentleman, such base and barbarous policy. It was the
government under which Burgoyne served that was chargeable with the
murderous acts of the savages. He is rather to be pitied for being
obliged to employ such hellhounds, whom he endeavored in vain to hold in
check. Great Britain reaped the reward of her policy in the odium which
it cast upon her cause, and the determined and successful opposition
which it provoked in the American bosom.

We will now shift the scene to Washington’s camp at Wilmington, where we
left him watching the operations of the British fleet, and preparing to
oppose the army under Sir William Howe in its designs upon Philadelphia.

CHAPTER XVIII.

LANDING OF HOWE’S ARMY ON ELK RIVER—MEASURES TO CHECK IT—EXPOSED
SITUATION OF WASHINGTON IN RECONNOITRING—ALARM OF THE
COUNTRY—PROCLAMATION OF HOWE—ARRIVAL OF SULLIVAN—FOREIGN OFFICERS IN
CAMP—DEBORRE—CONWAY—FLEURY—COUNT PULASKI—FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE
ARMY OF ‘LIGHT-HORSE HARRY’ OF VIRGINIA—WASHINGTON’S APPEAL TO THE
ARMY—MOVEMENTS OF THE RIVAL FORCES—BATTLE OF THE BRANDYWINE—RETREAT
OF THE AMERICANS—HALT IN CHESTER—SCENES IN PHILADELPHIA DURING THE
BATTLE—CONGRESS ORDERS OUT MILITIA—CLOTHES WASHINGTON WITH
EXTRAORDINARY POWERS—REMOVES TO LANCASTER—REWARDS TO FOREIGN
OFFICERS.

On the 25th of August, the British army under General Howe began to land
from the fleet in Elk River, at the bottom of Chesapeake Bay. The place
where they landed was about six miles below the Head of Elk (now
Elkton), a small town, the capital of Cecil County. This was seventy
miles from Philadelphia; ten miles further from that city than they had
been when encamped at Brunswick. The intervening country, too, was less
open than the Jerseys, and cut up by deep streams. Sir William had
chosen this circuitous route in the expectation of finding friends among
the people of Cecil County, and of the lower counties of Pennsylvania;
many of whom were Quakers and non-combatants, and many persons
disaffected to the patriot cause.

Early in the evening, Washington received intelligence that the enemy
were landing. There was a quantity of public and private stores at the
Head of Elk, which he feared would fall into their hands if they moved
quickly. Every attempt was to be made to check them. The divisions of
Generals Greene and Stephen were within a few miles of Wilmington;
orders were sent for them to march thither immediately. The two other
divisions, which had halted at Chester to refresh, were to hurry
forward. Major-general Armstrong, the same who had surprised the Indian
village of Kittaning in the French war, and who now commanded the
Pennsylvania militia, was urged to send down, in the cool of the night,
all the men he could muster, properly armed. “The first attempt of the
enemy,” writes Washington, “will be with light parties to seize horses,
carriages and cattle, and we must endeavor to check them at the outset.”

General Rodney, therefore, who commanded the Delaware militia, was
ordered to throw out scouts and patrols toward the enemy to watch their
motions; and to move near them with his troops, as soon as he should be
reinforced by the Maryland militia.

Light troops were sent out early in the morning to hover about and
harass the invaders. Washington himself, accompanied by General Greene
and the Marquis de Lafayette and their aides, rode forth to reconnoitre
the country in the neighborhood of the enemy, and determine how to
dispose of his forces when they should be collected. The only eminences
near Elk were Iron Hill and Gray’s Hill; the latter within two miles of
the enemy. It was difficult, however, to get a good view of their
encampment, and judge of the number that had landed. Hours were passed
in riding from place to place reconnoitring, and taking a military
survey of the surrounding country. At length a severe storm drove the
party to take shelter in a farm house. Night came on dark and stormy.
Washington showed no disposition to depart. His companions became
alarmed for his safety, there was risk of his being surprised, being so
near the enemy’s camp. He was not to be moved either by advice or
entreaties, but remained all night under the farmer’s roof. When he left
the house at daybreak, however, says Lafayette, he acknowledged his
imprudence, and that the most insignificant traitor might have caused
his ruin.

Indeed, he ran a similar risk to that which in the previous year had
produced General Lee’s catastrophe.

The country was in a great state of alarm. The inhabitants were hurrying
off their most valuable effects, so that it was difficult to procure
cattle and vehicles to remove the public stores. The want of horses, and
the annoyances given by the American light troops, however, kept Howe
from advancing promptly, and gave time for the greater part of the
stores to be saved.

To allay the public alarm, Howe issued a proclamation on the 27th,
promising the strictest regularity and order on the part of his army;
with security of person and property to all who remained quietly at
home, and pardon to those under arms, who should promptly return to
their obedience. The proclamation had a quieting effect, especially
among the loyalists, who abounded in these parts.

The divisions of Generals Greene and Stephen were now stationed several
miles in advance of Wilmington, behind White Clay Creek, about ten miles
from the Head of Elk. General Smallwood and Colonel Gist had been
directed by Congress to take command of the militia of Maryland, who
were gathering on the western shore, and Washington sent them orders to
co-operate with General Rodney and get in the rear of the enemy.

Washington now felt the want of Morgan and his riflemen, whom he had
sent to assist the Northern army; to supply their place, he formed a
corps of light troops, by drafting a hundred men from each brigade. The
command was given to Major-general Maxwell, who was to hover about the
enemy and give them continual annoyance.

The army about this time was increased by the arrival of General
Sullivan and his division of three thousand men. He had recently, while
encamped at Hanover in Jersey, made a gallant attempt to surprise and
capture a corps of one thousand provincials stationed on Staten Island,
at a distance from the fortified camp, and opposite the Jersey shore.
The attempt was partially successful; a number of the provincials were
captured; but the regulars came to the rescue. Sullivan had not brought
sufficient boats to secure a retreat. His rear-guard was captured while
waiting for the return of the boats, yet not without a sharp resistance.
There was loss on both sides, but the Americans suffered most. Congress
had directed Washington to appoint a court of inquiry to investigate the
matter; in the mean time, Sullivan, whose gallantry remained undoubted,
continued in command.

There were now in camp several of those officers and gentlemen from
various parts of Europe who had recently pressed into the service, and
the suitable employment of whom had been a source of much perplexity to
Washington. General Deborre, the French veteran of thirty years’
service, commanded a brigade in Sullivan’s division. Brigadier-general
Conway, the Gallicized Hibernian, was in the division of Lord Stirling.
Beside these, there was Louis Fleury, a French gentleman of noble
descent, who had been educated as an engineer, and had come out at the
opening of the Revolution to offer his services. Washington had obtained
for him a captain’s commission. Another officer of distinguished merit,
was the Count Pulaski, a Pole, recommended by Dr. Franklin, as an
officer famous throughout Europe for his bravery and conduct in defence
of the liberties of his country against Russia, Austria, and Prussia. In
fact, he had been commander-in-chief of the forces of the insurgents. He
served at present as a volunteer in the light-horse, and as that
department was still without a head, and the cavalry was a main object
of attention among the military of Poland, Washington suggested to
Congress the expediency of giving him the command of it. “This
gentleman, we are told,” writes Washington, “has been, like us, engaged
in defending the liberty and independence of his country, and has
sacrificed his fortune to his zeal for those objects. He derives from
hence a title to our respect, that ought to operate in his favor as far
as the good of the service will permit.”

At this time Henry Lee of Virginia, of military renown, makes his first
appearance. He was in the twenty-second year of his age, and in the
preceding year had commanded a company of Virginia volunteers. He had
recently signalized himself in scouting parties, harassing the enemy’s
pickets. Washington, in a letter to the President of Congress (Aug.
30th), writes: “This minute twenty-four British prisoners arrived, taken
yesterday by Captain Lee of the light-horse.” His adventurous exploits
soon won him notoriety, and the popular appellation of “Light-horse
Harry.” He was favorably noticed by Washington throughout the war.
Perhaps there was something beside his bold, dashing spirit, which won
him this favor. There may have been early recollections connected with
it. Lee was the son of the lady who first touched Washington’s heart in
his schoolboy days, the one about whom he wrote rhymes at Mount Vernon
and Greenway Court—his “lowland beauty.”

Several days were now passed by the commander-in-chief almost
continually in the saddle, reconnoitring the roads and passes, and
making himself acquainted with the surrounding country; which was very
much intersected by rivers and small streams, running chiefly from
north-west to south-east. He had now made up his mind to risk a battle
in the open field. It is true his troops were inferior to those of the
enemy in number, equipments, and discipline. Hitherto, according to
Lafayette, “they had fought combats, but not battles.” Still those
combats had given them experience; and though many of them were militia,
or raw recruits, yet the divisions of the army had acquired a facility
at moving in large masses, and were considerably improved in military
tactics. At any rate, it would never do to let Philadelphia, at that
time the capital of the States, fall without a blow. There was a carping
spirit abroad; a disposition to cavil and find fault, which was
prevalent in Philadelphia, and creeping into Congress; something of the
nature of what had been indulged respecting General Schuyler and the
army of the North. Public impatience called for a battle; it was
expected even by Europe; his own valiant spirit required it; though
hitherto he had been held in check by superior considerations of
expediency, and by the controlling interference of Congress. Congress
itself now spurred him on, and he gave way to the native ardor of his
character.

The British army having effected a landing, in which, by the way, it had
experienced but little molestation, was formed into two divisions. One,
under Sir William Howe, was stationed at Elkton, with its advanced guard
at Gray’s Hill, about two miles off. The other division, under General
Knyphausen, was on the opposite side of the ferry, at Cecil Court House.
On the third of September the enemy advanced in considerable force, with
three field-pieces, moving with great caution, as the country was
difficult, woody, and not well known to them. About three miles in front
of White Clay Creek, their vanguard was encountered by General Maxwell
and his light troops, and a severe skirmish took place. The fire of the
American sharpshooters and riflemen, as usual, was very effective; but
being inferior in number, and having no artillery, Maxwell was compelled
to retreat across White Clay Creek, with the loss of about forty killed
and wounded. The loss of the enemy was supposed to be much greater.

The main body of the American army was now encamped on the east side of
Red Clay Creek, on the road leading from Elkton to Philadelphia. The
light-infantry were in the advance, at White Clay Creek. The armies were
from eight to ten miles apart. In this position, Washington determined
to await the threatened attack.

On the 5th of September he made a stirring appeal to the army, in his
general orders, stating the object of the enemy, the capture of
Philadelphia. They had tried it before, from the Jerseys, and had
failed. He trusted they would be again disappointed. In their present
attempt their all was at stake. The whole would be hazarded in a single
battle. If defeated in that, they were totally undone, and the war would
be at an end. Now then was the time for the most strenuous exertions.
One bold stroke would free the land from rapine, devastation, and brutal
outrage. “Two years,” said he, “have we maintained the war, and
struggled with difficulties innumerable, but the prospect has
brightened. Now is the time to reap the fruit of all our toils and
dangers; if we behave like men this third campaign will be our last.”
Washington’s numerical force at this time was about fifteen thousand
men, but from sickness and other causes the effective force, militia
included, did not exceed eleven thousand, and most of these
indifferently armed and equipped. The strength of the British was
computed at eighteen thousand men, but, it is thought, not more than
fifteen thousand were brought into action.

On the 8th, the enemy advanced in two columns; one appeared preparing to
attack the Americans in front, while the other extended its left up the
west side of the creek, halting at Milltown, somewhat to the right of
the American position. Washington now suspected an intention on the part
of Sir William Howe to march by his right, suddenly pass the Brandywine,
gain the heights north of that stream, and cut him off from
Philadelphia. He summoned a council of war, therefore, that evening, in
which it was determined immediately to change their position, and move
to the river in question. By two o’clock in the morning, the army was
under march, and by the next evening was encamped on the high grounds in
the rear of the Brandywine. The enemy on the same evening moved to
Kennet Square, about seven miles from the American position.

The Brandywine Creek, as it is called, commences with two branches,
called the East and West branches, which unite in one stream, flowing
from west to east about twenty-two miles, and emptying itself into the
Delaware about twenty-five miles below Philadelphia. It has several
fords; one called Chadd’s Ford, was at that time the most practicable,
and in the direct route from the enemy’s camp to Philadelphia. As the
principal attack was expected here, Washington made it the centre of his
position, where he stationed the main body of his army, composed of
Wayne’s, Weedon’s, and Muhlenberg’s brigades, with the light-infantry
under Maxwell. An eminence immediately above the ford, had been
intrenched in the night, and was occupied by Wayne and Proctor’s
artillery. Weedon’s and Muhlenberg’s brigades, which were Virginian
troops, and formed General Greene’s division, were posted in the rear on
the heights, as a reserve to aid either wing of the army. With these
Washington took his stand. Maxwell’s light-infantry were thrown in the
advance, south of the Brandywine, and posted on high ground each side of
the road leading to the ford.

The right wing of the army commanded by Sullivan, and composed of his
division and those of Stephen and Stirling, extended up the Brandywine
two miles beyond Washington’s position. Its light troops and videttes
were distributed quite up to the forks. A few detachments of
ill-organized and undisciplined cavalry, extended across the creek on
the extreme right. The left wing, composed of the Pennsylvania militia,
under Major-general Armstrong, was stationed about a mile and a half
below the main body, to protect the lower fords, where the least danger
was apprehended. The Brandywine, which ran in front of the whole line,
was now the only obstacle, if such it might be called, between the two
armies.

Early on the morning of the 11th, a great column of troops was descried
advancing on the road leading to Chadd’s Ford. A skirt of woods
concealed its force, but it was supposed to be the main body of the
enemy; if so, a general conflict was at hand.

The Americans were immediately drawn out in order of battle. Washington
rode along the front of the ranks, and was every where received with
acclamations. A sharp firing of small-arms soon told that Maxwell’s
light-infantry were engaged with the vanguard of the enemy. The
skirmishing was kept up for some time with spirit, when Maxwell was
driven across the Brandywine below the ford. The enemy, who had advanced
but slowly, did not attempt to follow, but halted on commanding ground,
and appeared to reconnoitre the American position with a view to an
attack. A heavy cannonading commenced on both sides, about ten o’clock.
The enemy made repeated dispositions to force the ford, which brought on
as frequent skirmishes on both sides of the river, for detachments of
the light troops occasionally crossed over. One of these skirmishes was
more than usually severe: the British flank-guard was closely pressed, a
captain and ten or fifteen men were killed, and the guard was put to
flight; but a large force came to their assistance, and the Americans
were again driven across the stream. All this while, there was the noise
and uproar of a battle; but little of the reality. The enemy made a
great thundering of cannon, but no vigorous onset, and Colonel Harrison,
Washington’s “old secretary,” seeing this cautious and dilatory conduct
on their part, wrote a hurried note to Congress, expressing his
confident belief that the enemy would be repulsed.

Towards noon came an express from Sullivan, with a note received from a
scouting party, reporting that General Howe, with a large body of troops
and a park of artillery, was pushing up the Lancaster road, doubtless to
cross at the upper fords and turn the right flank of the American
position.

Startled by the information, Washington instantly sent off Colonel
Theodoric Bland, with a party of horse, to reconnoitre above the forks
and ascertain the truth of the report. In the mean time, he resolved to
cross the ford, attack the division in front of him with his whole
force, and rout it before the other could arrive. He gave orders for
both wings to co-operate, when, as Sullivan was preparing to cross,
Major Spicer of the militia rode up, just from the forks, and assured
him there was no enemy in that quarter. Sullivan instantly transmitted
the intelligence to Washington, whereupon the movement was suspended
until positive information could be obtained. After a time came a man of
the neighborhood, Thomas Cheyney by name, spurring in all haste, the
mare he rode in foam, and himself out of breath. Dashing up to the
commander-in-chief, he informed him that he must instantly move, or he
would be surrounded. He had come upon the enemy unawares; had been
pursued and fired upon, but the fleetness of his mare had saved him. The
main body of the British was coming down on the east side of the stream,
and was near at hand. Washington replied, that, from information just
received, it could not be so. “You are mistaken, general,” replied the
other vehemently; “my life for it, you are mistaken.” Then reiterating
the fact with an oath, and making a draft of the road in the sand, “put
me under guard,” added he, “until you find my story true.”

Another despatch from Sullivan corroborated it. Colonel Bland, whom
Washington had sent to reconnoitre above the forks, had seen the enemy
two miles in the rear of Sullivan’s right, marching down at a rapid
rate, while a cloud of dust showed that there were more troops behind
them.

In fact, the old Long Island stratagem had been played over again.
Knyphausen with a small division had engrossed the attention of the
Americans by a feigned attack at Chadd’s Ford, kept up with great noise
and prolonged by skirmishes; while the main body of the army under
Cornwallis, led by experienced guides, had made a circuit of seventeen
miles, crossed the two forks of the Brandywine, and arrived in the
neighborhood of Birmingham meeting-house, two miles to the right of
Sullivan. It was a capital stratagem, secretly and successfully
conducted.

Finding that Cornwallis had thus gained the rear of the army, Washington
sent orders to Sullivan to oppose him with the whole right wing, each
brigade attacking as soon as it arrived upon the ground. Wayne, in the
mean time, was to keep Knyphausen at bay at the ford, and Greene, with
the reserve, to hold himself ready to give aid wherever required.

Lafayette, as a volunteer, had hitherto accompanied the
commander-in-chief, but now, seeing there was likely to be warm work
with the right wing, he obtained permission to join Sullivan; and
spurred off with his aide-de-camp to the scene of action. From his
narrative, we gather some of the subsequent details.

[Illustration: Two hand-drawn Revolutionary War maps showing troop
positions and movements near the Brandywine Creek and Chad’s Ford. The
upper map labels American and British positions around Dilworth,
Birmingham Meeting House, Sullivan’s command, Cornwallis’s march, and
Gen. Howe’s headquarters, with Brinton’s and Chad’s fords marked along
the creek. The lower map shows the Brandywine Creek crossings in greater
detail, including Jeffery’s, Jones’s, Buffington’s, Brinton’s, and
Trimble’s fords, with roads to Lancaster and Kennett Square and British
troop movements indicated.]

Sullivan, on receiving Washington’s orders, advanced with his own,
Stephen’s and Stirling’s divisions, and began to form a line in front of
an open piece of wood. The time which had been expended in transmitting
intelligence, receiving orders, and marching, had enabled Cornwallis to
choose his ground and prepare for action. Still more time was given him
from the apprehension of the three generals, upon consultation, of being
outflanked upon the right; and that the gap between Sullivan’s and
Stephen’s divisions was too wide, and should be closed up. Orders were
accordingly given for the whole line to move to the right; and while in
execution, Cornwallis advanced rapidly with his troops in the finest
order, and opened a brisk fire of musketry and artillery. The Americans
made an obstinate resistance, but being taken at a disadvantage, the
right and left wings were broken and driven into the woods. The centre
stood firm for a while, but being exposed to the whole fire of the
enemy, gave way at length also. The British, in following up their
advantage, got entangled in the wood. It was here that Lafayette
received his wound. He had thrown himself from his horse and was
endeavoring to rally the troops, when he was shot through the leg with a
musket ball, and had to be assisted into the saddle by his aide-de-camp.

The Americans rallied on a height to the north of Dilworth, and made a
still more spirited resistance than at first, but were again dislodged
and obliged to retreat with a heavy loss.

While this was occurring with the right wing, Knyphausen, as soon as he
learnt from the heavy firing that Cornwallis was engaged, made a push to
force his way across Chadd’s Ford in earnest. He was vigorously opposed
by Wayne with Proctor’s artillery, aided by Maxwell and his infantry.
Greene was preparing to second him with the reserve, when he was
summoned by Washington to the support of the right wing; which the
commander-in-chief had found in imminent peril.

Greene advanced to the relief with such celerity, that it is said, on
good authority, his division accomplished the march, or rather run, of
five miles, in less than fifty minutes. He arrived too late to save the
battle, but in time to protect the broken masses of the left wing, which
he met in full flight. Opening his ranks from time to time for the
fugitives, and closing them the moment they had passed, he covered their
retreat by a sharp and well-directed fire from his field-pieces. His
grand stand was made at a place about a mile beyond Dilworth, which, in
reconnoitring the neighborhood, Washington had pointed out to him, as
well calculated for a second position, should the army be driven out of
the first; and here he was overtaken by Colonel Pinckney, an
aide-de-camp of the commander-in-chief, ordering him to occupy this
position and protect the retreat of the army. The orders were implicitly
obeyed. Weedon’s brigade was drawn up in a narrow defile, flanked on
both sides by woods, and perfectly commanding the road; while Greene,
with Muhlenberg’s brigade, passing to the right took his station on the
road. The British came on impetuously, expecting but faint opposition.
They met with a desperate resistance and were repeatedly driven back. It
was the bloody conflict of the bayonet; deadly on either side, and
lasting for a considerable time. Weedon’s brigade on the left maintained
its stand also with great obstinacy, and the check given to the enemy by
these two brigades, allowed time for the broken troops to retreat.
Weedon’s was at length compelled by superior numbers to seek the
protection of the other brigade, which he did in good order, and Greene
gradually drew off the whole division in face of the enemy, who, checked
by this vigorous resistance, and seeing the day far spent, gave up all
further pursuit.

The brave stand made by these brigades had, likewise, been a great
protection to Wayne. He had for a long time withstood the attacks of the
enemy at Chadd’s Ford, until the approach on the right, of some of the
enemy’s troops who had been entangled in the woods, showed him that the
right wing had been routed. He now gave up the defence of his post, and
retreated by the Chester road. Knyphausen’s troops were too fatigued to
pursue him; and the others had been kept back, as we have shown, by
Greene’s division. So ended the varied conflict of the day.

Lafayette gives an animated picture of the general retreat, in which he
became entangled. He had endeavored to rejoin Washington, but loss of
blood compelled him to stop and have his wound bandaged. While thus
engaged, he came near being captured. All around him was headlong terror
and confusion. Chester road, the common retreat of the broken fragments
of the army, from every quarter, was crowded with fugitives, with
cannon, with baggage cars, all hurrying forward pell-mell, and
obstructing each other; while the thundering of cannon, and volleying of
musketry by the contending parties in the rear, added to the confusion
and panic of the flight.

The dust, the uproar, and the growing darkness, threw every thing into
chaos; there was nothing but a headlong struggle forward. At Chester,
however, twelve miles from the field of battle, there was a deep stream
with a bridge, over which the fugitives would have to pass. Here
Lafayette set a guard to prevent their further flight. The
commander-in-chief, arriving soon after with Greene and his gallant
division, some degree of order was restored, and the whole army took its
post behind Chester for the night.

The scene of this battle, which decided the fate of Philadelphia, was
within six and twenty miles of that city, and each discharge of cannon
could be heard there. The two parties of the inhabitants, whig and tory,
were to be seen in separate groups in the squares and public places,
waiting the event in anxious silence. At length a courier arrived. His
tidings spread consternation among the friends of liberty. Many left
their homes; entire families abandoned every thing in terror and
despair, and took refuge in the mountains. Congress, that same evening,
determined to quit the city and repair to Lancaster, whence they
subsequently removed to Yorktown. Before leaving Philadelphia, however,
they summoned the militia of Pennsylvania, and the adjoining States, to
join the main army without delay; and ordered down fifteen hundred
Continental troops from Putnam’s command on the Hudson. They also
clothed Washington with power to suspend officers for misbehavior; to
fill up all vacancies under the rank of brigadiers; to take all
provisions, and other articles necessary for the use of the army,
paying, or giving certificates for the same; and to remove, or secure
for the benefit of the owners, all goods and effects which might
otherwise fall into the hands of the enemy and be serviceable to them.
These extraordinary powers were limited to the circumference of seventy
miles round head-quarters, and were to continue in force sixty days,
unless sooner revoked by Congress.

It may be as well here to notice in advance, the conduct of Congress
toward some of the foreigners who had mingled in this battle. Count
Pulaski, the Polish nobleman, heretofore mentioned, who acted with great
spirit as a volunteer in the light-horse, riding up within pistol shot
of the enemy to reconnoitre, was given a command of cavalry with the
rank of brigadier-general. Captain Louis Fleury, also, who had acquitted
himself with gallantry, and rendered essential aid in rallying the
troops, having had a horse killed under him, was presented by Congress
with another, as a testimonial of their sense of his merit.

Lafayette speaks, in his memoirs, of the brilliant manner in which
General Conway, the chevalier of St. Louis, acquitted himself at the
head of eight hundred men, in the encounter with the troops of
Cornwallis near Birmingham meeting-house. The veteran Deborre was not
equally fortunate in gaining distinction on this occasion. In the
awkward change of position in the line when in front of the enemy, he
had been the first to move, and without waiting for orders. The
consequence was, his brigade fell into confusion, and was put to flight.
He endeavored to rally it, and was wounded in the attempt; but his
efforts were in vain. Congress ordered a court of inquiry on his
conduct, whereupon he resigned his commission, and returned to France,
complaining bitterly of his hard treatment. “It was not his fault,” he
said, “if American troops would run away.”

CHAPTER XIX.

GENERAL HOWE NEGLECTS TO PURSUE HIS ADVANTAGE—WASHINGTON RETREATS TO
GERMANTOWN—RECROSSES THE SCHUYLKILL AND PREPARES FOR ANOTHER
ACTION—PREVENTED BY STORMS OF RAIN—RETREATS TO FRENCH CREEK—WAYNE
DETACHED TO FALL ON THE ENEMY’S REAR—HIS PICKETS SURPRISED—MASSACRE
OF WAYNE’S MEN—MANOEUVRES OF HOWE ON THE SCHUYLKILL—WASHINGTON SENDS
FOR REINFORCEMENTS—HOWE MARCHES INTO PHILADELPHIA.

Notwithstanding the rout and precipitate retreat of the American army,
Sir William Howe did not press the pursuit, but passed the night on the
field of battle, and remained the two following days at Dilworth,
sending out detachments to take post at Concord and Chester, and seize
on Wilmington, whither the sick and wounded were conveyed. “Had the
enemy marched directly to Derby,” observes Lafayette, “the American army
would have been cut up and destroyed; they lost a precious night, and it
is perhaps the greatest fault in a war in which they have committed
many.”[61]

Washington, as usual, profited by the inactivity of Howe; quietly
retreating through Derby (on the 12th) across the Schuylkill to
Germantown, within a short distance of Philadelphia, where he gave his
troops a day’s repose. Finding them in good spirits, and in nowise
disheartened by the recent affair, which they seemed to consider a check
rather than a defeat, he resolved to seek the enemy again and give him
battle. As preliminary measures, he left some of the Pennsylvania
militia in Philadelphia to guard the city; others, under General
Armstrong, were posted at the various passes of the Schuylkill, with
orders to throw up works; the floating bridge on the lower road was to
be unmoored, and the boats collected and taken across the river.

Having taken these precautions against any hostile movement by the lower
road, Washington recrossed the Schuylkill on the 14th, and advanced
along the Lancaster road, with the intention of turning the left flank
of the enemy. Howe, apprised of his intention, made a similar
disposition to outflank him. The two armies came in sight of each other,
near the Warren Tavern, twenty-three miles from Philadelphia, and were
on the point of engaging, but were prevented by a violent storm of rain,
which lasted for four and twenty hours.

This inclement weather was particularly distressing to the Americans;
who were scantily clothed, most of them destitute of blankets, and
separated from their tents and baggage. The rain penetrated their
cartridge-boxes and the ill-fitted locks of their muskets, rendering the
latter useless, being deficient in bayonets. In this plight, Washington
gave up for the present all thought of attacking the enemy, as their
discipline in the use of the bayonet, with which they were universally
furnished, would give them a great superiority in action. “The
hot-headed politicians,” writes one of his officers, “will no doubt
censure this part of his conduct, while the more judicious will approve
it, as not only expedient, but, in such a case, highly commendable. It
was, without doubt, chagrining to a person of his fine feelings, to
retreat before an enemy not more in number than himself; yet, with a
true greatness of spirit, he sacrificed them to the good of his
country.”[62] There was evidently a growing disposition again to
criticise Washington’s movements, yet how well did this officer judge of
him.

The only aim, at present, was to get to some dry and secure place, where
the army might repose and refit. All day, and for a great part of the
night, they marched under a cold and pelting rain, and through deep and
miry roads, to the Yellow Springs, thence to Warwick, on French Creek; a
weary march in stormy weather for troops destitute of every comfort, and
nearly a thousand of them actually barefooted. At Warwick furnace,
ammunition and a few muskets were obtained, to aid in disputing the
passage of the Schuylkill, and the advance of the enemy on Philadelphia.

From French Creek, Wayne was detached with his division, to get in the
rear of the enemy, form a junction with General Smallwood and the
Maryland militia, and, keeping themselves concealed, watch for an
opportunity to cut off Howe’s baggage and hospital train; in the mean
time, Washington crossed the Schuylkill at Parker’s Ford, and took a
position to defend that pass of the river.

Wayne set off in the night, and, by a circuitous march, got within three
miles of the left wing of the British encamped at Tredyffrin, and
concealing himself in a wood, waited the arrival of Smallwood and his
militia. At daybreak he reconnoitred the camp, where Howe, checked by
the severity of the weather, had contented himself with uniting his
columns, and remained under shelter. All day Wayne hovered about the
camp; there were no signs of marching; all kept quiet, but lay too
compact to be attacked with prudence. He sent repeated messages to
Washington, describing the situation of the enemy, and urging him to
come on and attack them in their camp. “Their supineness,” said he in
one of his notes, “answers every purpose of giving you time to get up:
if they attempt to move, I shall attack them at all events. * * * *
There never was, nor never will be, a finer opportunity of giving the
enemy a fatal blow than at present. For God’s sake push on as fast as
possible.”

Again, at a later hour, he writes: “The enemy are very quiet, washing
and cooking. I expect General Maxwell on the left flank every moment,
and, as I lay on the right, we only want you in their rear to complete
Mr. Howe’s business. I believe he knows nothing of my situation, as I
have taken every precaution to prevent any intelligence getting to him,
at the same time keeping a watchful eye on his front, flanks and rear.”

His motions, however, had not been so secret as he imagined. He was in a
part of the country full of the disaffected, and Sir William had
received accurate information of his force and where he was encamped.
General Grey, with a strong detachment, was sent to surprise him at
night in his lair. Late in the evening, when Wayne had set his pickets
and sentinels, and thrown out his patrols, a countryman brought him word
of the meditated attack. He doubted the intelligence, but strengthened
his pickets and patrols, and ordered his troops to sleep upon their
arms.

At eleven o’clock, the pickets were driven in at the point of the
bayonet—the enemy were advancing in column. Wayne instantly took post on
the right of his position, to cover the retreat of the left, led by
Colonel Humpton, the second in command. The latter was tardy, and
incautiously paraded his troops in front of their fires, so as to be in
full relief. The enemy rushed on without firing a gun; all was the
silent, but deadly work of the bayonet and the cutlass. Nearly three
hundred of Humpton’s men were killed or wounded, and the rest put to
flight. Wayne gave the enemy some well-directed volleys, and then
retreating to a small distance, rallied his troops, and prepared for
further defence. The British, however, contented themselves with the
blow they had given, and retired with very little loss, taking with them
between seventy and eighty prisoners, several of them officers, and
eight baggage waggons, heavily laden.

General Smallwood, who was to have co-operated with Wayne, was within a
mile of him at the time of his attack; and would have hastened to his
assistance with his well-known intrepidity; but he had not the corps
under his command with which he had formerly distinguished himself, and
his raw militia fled in a panic at the first sight of a return party of
the enemy.

Wayne was deeply mortified by the result of this affair, and, finding it
severely criticised in the army, demanded a court-martial, which
pronounced his conduct every thing that was to be expected from an
active, brave, and vigilant officer; whatever blame there was in the
matter fell upon his second in command, who, by delay, or
misapprehension of orders, and an unskilful position of his troops, had
exposed them to be massacred.

On the 21st, Sir William Howe made a rapid march high up the Schuylkill,
on the road leading to Reading, as if he intended either to capture the
military stores deposited there, or to turn the right of the American
army. Washington kept pace with him on the opposite side of the river,
up to Pott’s Grove, about thirty miles from Philadelphia.

The movement on the part of Howe was a mere feint. No sooner had he
drawn Washington so far up the river, than, by a rapid countermarch on
the night of the 22d, he got to the ford below, threw his troops across
on the next morning, and pushed forward for Philadelphia. By the time
Washington was apprised of this counter movement, Howe was too far on
his way to be overtaken by harassed, barefooted troops, worn out by
constant marching. Feeling the necessity of immediate reinforcements, he
wrote on the same day to Putnam at Peekskill: “The situation of our
affairs in this quarter calls for every aid and for every effort. I
therefore desire that, without a moment’s loss of time, you will detach
as many effective rank and file, under proper generals and officers, as
will make the whole number, including those with General McDougall,
amount to twenty-five hundred privates and non-commissioned fit for
duty.

“I must urge you, by every motive, to send this detachment without the
least possible delay. No considerations are to prevent it. It is our
first object to defeat, if possible, the army now opposed to us here.”

On the next day (24th) he wrote also to General Gates, “This army has
not been able to oppose General Howe’s with the success that was wished,
and needs a reinforcement. I therefore request, if you have been so
fortunate as to oblige General Burgoyne to retreat to Ticonderoga, or if
you have not, and circumstances will admit, that you will order Colonel
Morgan to join me again with his corps. I sent him up when I thought you
materially wanted him; and, if his services can be dispensed with now,
you will direct his immediate return.”

Having called a council of officers and taken their opinions, which
concurred with his own, Washington determined to remain some days at
Pott’s Grove, to give repose to his troops, and await the arrival of
reinforcements.

Sir William Howe halted at Germantown, within a short distance of
Philadelphia, and encamped the main body of his army in and about that
village; detaching Lord Cornwallis with a large force and a number of
officers of distinction, to take formal possession of the city. That
general marched into Philadelphia on the 26th, with a brilliant staff
and escort, and followed by splendid legions of British and Hessian
grenadiers, long trains of artillery and squadrons of light-dragoons,
the finest troops in the army all in their best array; stepping to the
swelling music of the band playing God save the King, and presenting
with their scarlet uniforms, their glittering arms and flaunting
feathers, a striking contrast to the poor patriot troops, who had
recently passed through the same streets, weary and way-worn, and happy
if they could cover their raggedness with a brown linen hunting-frock,
and decorate their caps with a sprig of evergreen.

In this way the British took possession of the city, so long the object
of their awkward attempts, and regarded by them as a triumphant
acquisition; having been the seat of the general government; the capital
of the confederacy. Washington maintained his characteristic equanimity.
“This is an event,” writes he to Governor Trumbull, “which we have
reason to wish had not happened, and which will be attended with several
ill consequences; but I hope it will not be so detrimental as many
apprehend, and that a little time and perseverance will give us some
favorable opportunity of recovering our loss, and of putting our affairs
in a more flourishing condition.”

He had heard of the prosperous situation of affairs in the Northern
Department, and the repeated checks given to the enemy. “I flatter
myself,” writes he, “we shall soon hear that they have been succeeded by
other fortunate and interesting events, as the two armies, by General
Gates’s letter, were encamped near each other.”

We will now revert to the course of the campaign in that quarter, the
success of which he trusted would have a beneficial influence on the
operations in which he was personally engaged. Indeed the operations in
the Northern Department formed, as we have shown, but a part of his
general scheme, and were constantly present to his thoughts. His
generals had each his own individual enterprise, or his own department
to think about; Washington had to think for the whole.

CHAPTER XX.

DUBIOUS POSITION OF BURGOYNE—COLLECTS HIS FORCES—LADIES OF DISTINCTION
IN HIS CAMP—LADY HARRIET ACKLAND—THE BARONESS DE RIEDESEL—AMERICAN
ARMY REINFORCED—SILENT MOVEMENTS OF BURGOYNE—WATCHED FROM THE SUMMIT
OF THE HILLS—HIS MARCH ALONG THE HUDSON—POSITION OF THE TWO
CAMPS—BATTLE OF THE 19TH SEPT.—BURGOYNE ENCAMPS NEARER—FORTIFIES HIS
CAMP—PROMISED CO-OPERATION BY SIR HENRY CLINTON—DETERMINES TO AWAIT
IT—QUARREL BETWEEN GATES AND ARNOLD—ARNOLD DEPRIVED OF
COMMAND—BURGOYNE WAITS FOR CO-OPERATION.

The checks which Burgoyne had received on right and left, and, in a
great measure, through the spontaneous rising of the country, had opened
his eyes to the difficulties of his situation, and the errors as to
public feeling into which he had been led by his tory counsellors. “The
great bulk of the country is undoubtedly with the Congress in principle
and zeal,” writes he, “and their measures are executed with a secrecy
and despatch that are not to be equalled. Wherever the king’s forces
point, militia, to the amount of three or four thousand, assemble in
twenty-four hours: _they bring with them their subsistence, &c., and,
the alarm over, they return to their farms_. The Hampshire Grants, in
particular, a country unpeopled and almost unknown last war, now abounds
in the most active and most rebellious race of the continent, and hangs
like a gathering storm upon my left.” What a picture this gives of a
patriotic and warlike yeomanry. He complains, too, that no operation had
yet been undertaken in his favor; the Highlands of the Hudson had not
even been threatened: the consequence was that two brigades had been
detached from them to strengthen the army of Gates, strongly posted near
the mouth of the Mohawk River, with a superior force of Continental
troops, and as many militia as he pleased.

Burgoyne declared, that had he any latitude in his orders, he would
remain where he was, or perhaps fall back to Fort Edward, where his
communication with Lake George would be secure, and wait for some event
that might assist his movement forward; his orders, however, were
positive to force a junction with Sir William Howe. He did not feel at
liberty, therefore, to remain inactive longer than would be necessary to
receive the reinforcements of the additional companies, the German
drafts and recruits actually on Lake Champlain, and to collect
provisions enough for twenty-five days. These reinforcements were
indispensable, because, from the hour he should pass the Hudson River
and proceed towards Albany, all safety of communication would cease.

“I yet do not despair,” adds he, manfully. “Should I succeed in forcing
my way to Albany, and find that country in a state to subsist my army, I
shall think no more of a retreat, but, at the worst, fortify there, and
await Sir William’s operations.”[63]

A feature of peculiar interest is given to this wild and rugged
expedition, by the presence of two ladies of rank and refinement,
involved in its perils and hardships. One was Lady Harriet Ackland,
daughter of the Earl of Ilchester, and wife of Major Ackland of the
grenadiers; the other was the Baroness De Riedesel, wife of the Hessian
major-general. Both of these ladies had been left behind in Canada. Lady
Harriet, however, on hearing that her husband was wounded in the affair
at Hubbardton, instantly set out to rejoin him, regardless of danger,
and of her being in a condition before long to become a mother.

Crossing the whole length of Lake Champlain, she found him in a sick bed
at Skenesborough. After his recovery, she refused to leave him, but had
continued with the army ever since. Her example had been imitated by the
Baroness De Riedesel, who had joined the army at Fort Edward, bringing
with her her three small children. The friendship and sympathy of these
two ladies in all scenes of trial and suffering, and their devoted
attachment to their husbands, afford touching episodes in the story of
the campaign. When the army was on the march, they followed a little
distance in the rear, Lady Harriet in a two-wheeled tumbril, the
Baroness in a calash, capable of holding herself, her children, and two
servants. The latter has left a journal of her campaigning, which we may
occasionally cite. “They moved,” she says, “in the midst of soldiery,
who were full of animation, singing camp songs, and panting for action.
They had to travel through almost impassable woods; in a picturesque and
beautiful region; but which was almost abandoned by its inhabitants, who
had hastened to join the American army.” “They added much to its
strength,” observes she, “as they were all good marksmen, and the love
of their country inspired them with more than ordinary courage.”[64]

The American army had received various reinforcements: the most
efficient was Morgan’s corps of riflemen, sent by Washington. He had
also furnished it with artillery. It was now about ten thousand strong.
Schuyler, finding himself and his proffered services slighted by Gates,
had returned to Albany. His patriotism was superior to personal
resentments. He still continued to promote the success of the campaign,
exerting his influence over the Indian tribes, to win them from the
enemy. At Albany, he held talks and war feasts with deputations of
Oneida, Tuscarora, and Onondaga warriors; and procured scouting parties
of them, which he sent to the camp, and which proved of great service.
His former aide-de-camp, Colonel Brockholst Livingston, and his
secretary, Colonel Varick, remained in camp, and kept him informed by
letter of passing occurrences. They were much about the person of
General Arnold, who, since his return from relieving Fort Stanwix,
commanded the left wing of the army. Livingston, in fact, was with him
as aide-de-camp. The jealousy of Gates was awakened by these
circumstances. He knew their attachment to Schuyler, and suspected they
were prejudicing the mind of Arnold against him; and this suspicion may
have been the origin of a coolness and neglect which he soon evinced
toward Arnold himself. These young officers, however, though devotedly
attached to Schuyler from a knowledge of his generous character, were
above any camp intrigue. Livingston was again looking forward with
youthful ardor to a brush with the enemy; but regretted that his former
chief would not be there to lead it. “Burgoyne,” writes he to Schuyler
exultingly, “is in such a situation, that he can neither advance nor
retire without fighting. A capital battle must soon be fought. I am
chagrined to the soul when I think that another person will reap the
fruits of your labors.”[65]

Colonel Varick, equally eager, was afraid Burgoyne might be decamping.
“His evening guns,” writes he, “are seldom heard, and when heard, are
very low in sound.”[66]

The dense forests, in fact, which covered the country between the
hostile armies, concealed their movements, and as Gates threw out no
harassing parties, his information concerning the enemy was vague.
Burgoyne, however, was diligently collecting all his forces from
Skenesborough, Fort Anne and Fort George, and collecting provisions; he
had completed a bridge by which he intended to pass the Hudson, and
force his way to Albany, where he expected co-operation from below.
Every thing was conducted with as much silence and caution as possible.
His troops paraded without beat of drum, and evening guns were
discontinued. So stood matters on the 11th of September, when a report
was circulated in the American camp, that Burgoyne was in motion, and
that he had made a speech to his soldiers, telling them that the fleet
had returned to Canada, and their only safety was to fight their way to
New York.

As General Gates was to _receive_ an attack, it was thought he ought to
choose the ground where to receive it; Arnold, therefore, in company
with Kosciuszko, the Polish engineer, reconnoitred the neighborhood in
quest of a good camping ground, and at length fixed upon a ridge of
hills called Bemis’s Heights, which Kosciuszko proceeded to fortify.

In the mean time, Colonel Colburn was sent off with a small party to
ascend the high hills on the east side of the Hudson, and watch the
movements of the enemy with glasses from their summits, or from the tops
of the trees. For three days he kept thus on the look-out, sending word
from time to time to camp of all that he espied.

On the 11th there were the first signs of movement among Burgoyne’s
troops. On the 13th and 14th, they slowly passed over a bridge of boats,
which they had thrown across the Hudson, and encamped near Fish Creek.
Colburn counted eight hundred tents, including marquees. A mile in
advance were fourteen more tents. The Hessians remained encamped on the
eastern side of the river, but intervening woods concealed the number of
their tents. There was not the usual stir of military animation in the
camps. There were no evening nor morning guns.

On the 15th, both English and Hessian camps struck their tents, and
loaded their baggage waggons. By twelve o’clock both began to march.
Colburn neglected to notice the route taken by the Hessians; his
attention was absorbed by the British, who made their way slowly and
laboriously down the western side of the river, along a wretched road
intersected by brooks and rivulets, the bridges over which Schuyler had
broken down. The division had with it eighty-five baggage waggons and a
great train of artillery; with two unwieldy twenty-four-pounders, acting
like drag anchors. It was a silent, dogged march, without beat of drum,
or spirit-stirring bray of trumpet. A body of light troops, new levies,
and Indians, painted and decorated for war, struck off from the rest and
disappeared in the forest, up Fish Creek. From the great silence
observed by Burgoyne in his movements, and the care he took in keeping
his men together, and allowing no straggling parties, Colonel Colburn
apprehended that he meditated an attack. Having seen the army advance
two miles on its march, therefore, he descended from the heights, and
hastened to the American camp to make his report. A British prisoner,
brought in soon afterwards, stated that Burgoyne had come to a halt
about four miles distant.

On the following morning, the army was under arms at daylight; the
enemy, however, remained encamped, repairing bridges in front, and
sending down guard boats to reconnoitre; the Americans, therefore, went
on to fortify their position. The ridge of hills called Bemis’s Heights,
rises abruptly from the narrow flat bordering the west side of the
river. Kosciuszko had fortified the camp with intrenchments three
quarters of a mile in extent, having redoubts and batteries, which
commanded the valley, and even the hills on the opposite side of the
river; for the Hudson, in this upper part, is comparatively a narrow
stream. From the foot of the height, an intrenchment extended to the
river, ending with a battery at the water edge, commanding a floating
bridge.

The right wing of the army, under the immediate command of Gates, and
composed of Glover’s, Nixon’s, and Patterson’s brigades, occupied the
brow of the hill nearest to the river, with the flats below.

The left wing, commanded by Arnold, was on the side of the camp furthest
from the river, and distant from the latter about three quarters of a
mile. It was composed of the New Hampshire brigade of General Poor,
Pierre Van Courtlandt’s and James Livingston’s regiments of New York
militia, the Connecticut militia, Morgan’s riflemen, and Dearborn’s
infantry. The centre was composed of Massachusetts and New York troops.

Burgoyne gradually drew nearer to the camp, throwing out large parties
of pioneers and workmen. The Americans disputed every step. A Hessian
officer observes: “The enemy bristled up his hair, as we attempted to
repair more bridges. At last, we had to do him the honor of sending out
whole regiments to protect our workmen.”[67]

It was Arnold who provoked this honor. At the head of fifteen hundred
men he skirmished bravely with the superior force sent out against him,
and retired with several prisoners.

Burgoyne now encamped about two miles from General Gates, disposing his
army in two lines; the left on the river, the right extending at right
angles to it, about six hundred yards, across the low grounds to a range
of steep and rocky hills, occupied by the _élite_; a ravine formed by a
rivulet from the hills passed in front of the camp. The low ground
between the armies was cultivated; the hills were covered with woods,
excepting three or four small openings and deserted farms. Beside the
ravines which fronted each camp there was a third one, midway between
them, also at right angles to the river.[68]

On the morning of the 19th, General Gates received intelligence that the
enemy were advancing in great force on his left. It was, in fact, their
right wing, composed of the British line and led by Burgoyne in person.
It was covered by the grenadiers and light-infantry under General Fraser
and Colonel Breyman, who kept along the high grounds on the right; while
they, in turn, were covered in front and on the flanks by Indians,
provincial royalists and Canadians. The left wing and artillery were
advancing at the same time, under Major-general Phillips and Riedesel,
along the great road and meadows by the river side, but they were
retarded by the necessity of repairing broken bridges. It was the plan
of Burgoyne, that the Canadians and Indians should attack the central
outposts of the Americans, and draw their attention in that direction,
while he and Fraser, making a circuit through the woods, should join
forces and fall upon the rear of the American camp. As the dense forests
hid them from each other, signal-guns were to regulate their movements.
Three, fired in succession, were to denote that all was ready, and be
the signal for an attack in front, flank and rear.

The American pickets, stationed along the ravine of Mill Creek, sent
repeated accounts to General Gates of the movements of the enemy; but he
remained quiet in his camp as if determined to await an attack. The
American officers grew impatient. Arnold especially, impetuous by
nature, urged repeatedly that a detachment should be sent forth to check
the enemy in their advance, and drive the Indians out of the woods. At
length he succeeded in getting permission, about noon, to detach Morgan
with his riflemen and Dearborn with his infantry from his division. They
soon fell in with the Canadians and Indians, which formed the advance
guard of the enemy’s right, and attacking them with spirit, drove them
in, or rather dispersed them. Morgan’s riflemen, following up their
advantage with too much eagerness, became likewise scattered, and a
strong reinforcement of royalists arriving on the scene of action, the
Americans, in their turn, were obliged to give way.

Other detachments now arrived from the American camp, led by Arnold, who
attacked Fraser on his right, to check his attempt to get in the rear of
the camp. Finding the position of Fraser too strong to be forced, he
sent to head-quarters for reinforcements, but they were refused by
Gates, who declared that no more should go; “he would not suffer his
camp to be exposed.”[69] The reason he gave was that it might be
attacked by the enemy’s left wing.

Arnold now made a rapid countermarch, and, his movement being masked by
the woods, suddenly attempted to turn Fraser’s left. Here he came in
full conflict with the British line, and threw himself upon it with a
boldness and impetuosity that for a time threatened to break it, and cut
the wings of the army asunder. The grenadiers and Breyman’s riflemen
hastened to its support. General Phillips broke his way through the
woods with four pieces of artillery, and Riedesel came on with his heavy
dragoons. Reinforcements came likewise to Arnold’s assistance; his
force, however, never exceeded three thousand men, and with these, for
nearly four hours, he kept up a conflict almost hand to hand, with the
whole right wing of the British army. Part of the time the Americans had
the advantage of fighting under the cover of a wood, so favorable to
their militia and sharpshooters Burgoyne ordered the woods to be cleared
by the bayonet. His troops rushed forward in columns with a hurra! The
Americans kept within their intrenchments, and repeatedly repulsed them;
but, if they pursued their advantage, and advanced into open field, they
were in their turn driven back.

Night alone put an end to a conflict, which the British acknowledged to
have been the most obstinate and hardly fought they had ever experienced
in America. Both parties claimed the victory. But, though the British
remained on the field of battle, where they lay all night upon their
arms, they had failed in their object; they had been assailed instead of
being the assailants; while the American troops had accomplished the
purpose for which they had sallied forth; had checked the advance of the
enemy, frustrated their plan of attack, and returned exulting to their
camp. Their loss, in killed and wounded, was between three and four
hundred, including several officers; that of the enemy upwards of five
hundred.

Burgoyne gives an affecting picture of the situation of the ladies of
rank already mentioned, during this action. Lady Harriet had been
directed by her husband, Major Ackland, to follow the route of the
artillery and baggage, which was not exposed. “At the time the action
began,” writes Burgoyne, “she found herself near a small uninhabited
hut, where she alighted. When it was found the action was becoming
general and bloody, the surgeons of the hospital took possession of the
same place, as the most convenient for the first care of the wounded.
Thus was the lady in hearing of one continued fire of cannon and
musketry, for four hours together, with the presumption, from the post
of her husband at the head of the grenadiers, that he was in the most
exposed part of the action. She had three female companions, the
Baroness of Riedesel, and the wives of two British officers, Major
Harnage and Lieutenant Reynell; but in the event their presence served
but little for comfort. Major Harnage was soon brought to the surgeons
very badly wounded; and in a little time after came intelligence that
Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead. Imagination wants no helps to figure
the state of the whole group.”

Arnold was excessively indignant at Gates’s withholding the
reinforcements he had required in the heat of the action; had they been
furnished, he said, he might have severed the line of the enemy and
gained a complete victory. He was urgent to resume the action on the
succeeding morning, and follow up the advantage he had gained, but Gates
declined, to his additional annoyance. He attributed the refusal to
pique or jealousy, but Gates subsequently gave as a reason the great
deficiency of powder and ball in the camp, which was known only to
himself, and which he kept secret until a supply was sent from Albany.

Burgoyne now strengthened his position with intrenchments and batteries,
part of them across the meadows which bordered the river, part on the
brow of the heights which commanded them. The Americans likewise
extended and strengthened their line of breastworks on the left of the
camp; the right was already unassailable. The camps were within gunshot,
but with ravines and woods between them.

Washington’s predictions of the effect to be produced by Morgan’s
riflemen approached fulfilment. The Indians, dismayed at the severe
treatment experienced from these veteran bush fighters, were
disappearing from the British camp. The Canadians and royal provincials,
“mere trimmers,” as Burgoyne called them, were deserting in great
numbers, and he had no confidence in those who remained.

His situation was growing more and more critical. On the 21st, he heard
shouts in the American camp, and in a little while their cannon
thundered a _feu de joie_. News had been received from General Lincoln,
that a detachment of New England troops under Colonel Brown had
surprised the carrying-place, mills, and French lines at Ticonderoga,
captured an armed sloop, gunboats and bateaux, made three hundred
prisoners, beside releasing one hundred American captives, and were
laying siege to Fort Independence.[70]

Fortunately for Burgoyne, while affairs were darkening in the North, a
ray of hope dawned from the South. While the shouts from the American
camp were yet ringing in his ears, came a letter in cipher from Sir
Henry Clinton, dated the 12th of September, announcing his intention in
about ten days to attack the forts in the Highlands of the Hudson.

Burgoyne sent back the messenger the same night, and despatched,
moreover, two officers in disguise, by different routes, all bearing
messages informing Sir Henry of his perilous situation, and urging a
diversion that might oblige General Gates to detach a part of his army;
adding, that he would endeavor to maintain his present position, and
await favorable events until the 12th of October.[71]

The jealousy of Gates had been intensely excited at finding the whole
credit of the late affair given by the army to Arnold: in his despatches
to government he made no mention of him. This increased the schism
between them. Wilkinson, the adjutant-general, who was a sycophantic
adherent of Gates, pandered to his pique by withdrawing from Arnold’s
division Morgan’s rifle corps and Dearborn’s light-infantry, its arm of
strength, which had done such brilliant service in the late affair: they
were henceforth to be subject to no order but those from head-quarters.

Arnold called on Gates on the evening of the 22d, to remonstrate. High
words passed between them, and matters came to an open rupture. Gates,
in his heat, told Arnold that he did not consider him a major-general,
he having sent his resignation to Congress—that he had never given him
the command of any division of the army—that General Lincoln would
arrive in a day or two, and then he would have no further occasion for
him, and would give him a pass to go to Philadelphia, whenever he
chose.[72]

Arnold returned to his quarters in a rage, and wrote a note to Gates
requesting the proffered permit to depart for Philadelphia; by the time
he received it his ire had cooled and he had changed his mind. He
determined to remain in camp and abide the anticipated battle.

Lincoln, in the mean time, arrived in advance of his troops; which soon
followed to the amount of two thousand. Part of the troops, detached by
him under Colonel Brown, were besieging Ticonderoga and Fort
Independence. Colonel Brown himself, with part of his detachment, had
embarked on Lake George in an armed schooner and a squadron of captured
gunboats and bateaux, and was threatening the enemy’s deposit of baggage
and heavy artillery at Diamond Island. The toils so skilfully spread
were encompassing Burgoyne more and more; the gates of Canada were
closing behind him.

A morning or two after Lincoln’s arrival, Arnold observed him giving
some directions in the left division, and quickly inquired whether he
was doing so by order of General Gates; being answered in the negative,
he observed that the left division belonged to him; and that he believed
his (Lincoln’s) proper station was on the right, and that of General
Gates ought to be in the centre. He requested him to mention this to
General Gates, and have the matter adjusted.

“He is determined,” writes Varick, “not to suffer any one to interfere
in his division, and says it will be death to any officer who does so in
action.” Arnold, in fact, was in a bellicose vein, and rather blustered
about the camp. Gates, he said, could not refuse him his command, and he
would not yield it now that a battle was expected.

Some of the general officers and colonels of his division proposed to
make him an address, thanking him for his past services particularly in
the late action, and entreating him to stay. Others suggested that the
general officers should endeavor to produce a reconciliation between the
jarring parties. Lincoln was inclined to do so; but, in the end, neither
measure was taken through fear of offending General Gates. In the mean
time Arnold remained in camp, treated, he said, as a cipher, and never
consulted; though when Congress had sent him to that department, at the
request of General Washington, they expected the commander would at
least have taken his opinion on public matters.

On the 30th, he gave vent to his feelings in an indignant letter to
Gates. “Notwithstanding I have reason to think your treatment proceeds
from a spirit of jealousy,” writes he, “and that I have every thing to
fear from the malice of my enemies, conscious of my own innocency and
integrity, I am determined to sacrifice my feelings, present peace and
quiet, to the public good, and continue in the army at this critical
juncture, when my country needs every support.

“I hope,” concludes he, “you will not impute this hint to a wish to
command the army, or to outshine you, when I assure you it proceeds from
my zeal for the cause of my country, in which I expect to rise or
fall.”[73]

All this time the Americans were harassing the British camp with
frequent night alarms and attacks on its pickets and outposts.

“From the 20th of September to the 7th of October,” writes Burgoyne,
“the armies were so near, that not a night passed without firing, and
sometimes concerted attacks upon our advanced pickets. I do not believe
either officer or soldier ever slept in that interval without his
clothes; or that any general officer or commander of a regiment passed a
single night, without being upon his legs occasionally at different
hours, and constantly an hour before daylight.”[74]

Still Burgoyne kept up a resolute mien, telling his soldiers, in a
harangue, that he was determined to leave his bones on the field, or
force his way to Albany. He yet clung to the hope, that Sir Henry
Clinton might operate in time to relieve him from his perilous position.

We will now cast a look toward New York, and ascertain the cause of Sir
Henry’s delay in his anxiously expected operations on the Hudson.

CHAPTER XXI.

PREPARATIONS OF SIR HENRY CLINTON—STATE OF THE HIGHLAND
DEFENCES—PUTNAM ALARMED—ADVANCE OF THE ARMAMENT UP THE HUDSON—PLAN
OF SIR HENRY CLINTON—PEEKSKILL THREATENED—PUTNAM DECEIVED—SECRET
MARCH OF THE ENEMY THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS—FORTS MONTGOMERY AND
CLINTON OVERPOWERED—NARROW ESCAPE OF THE COMMANDERS—CONFLAGRATION
AND EXPLOSION OF THE AMERICAN FRIGATES—RALLYING EFFORTS OF PUTNAM
AND GOVERNOR CLINTON—THE SPY AND THE SILVER BULLET—ESOPUS
BURNT—RAVAGING PROGRESS OF THE ENEMY UP THE HUDSON.

The expedition of Sir Henry Clinton had awaited the arrival of
reinforcements from Europe, which were slowly crossing the ocean in
Dutch bottoms. At length they arrived, after a three months’ voyage, and
now there was a stir of warlike preparation at New York; the streets
were full of soldiery, the bay full of ships; and water craft of all
kinds were plying about the harbor. Between three and four thousand men
were to be embarked on board of ships of war, armed galleys and
flat-bottomed boats. A southern destination was given out, but shrewd
observers surmised the real one.

The defences of the Highlands, on which the security of the Hudson
depended, were at this time weakly garrisoned; some of the troops having
been sent off to reinforce the armies on the Delaware and in the North.
Putnam, who had the general command of the Highlands, had but eleven
hundred continental and four hundred militia troops with him at
Peekskill, his head-quarters. There was a feeble garrison at Fort
Independence, in the vicinity of Peekskill, to guard the public stores
and workshops at Continental Village.

The Highland forts, Clinton, Montgomery, and Constitution, situated
among the mountains and forming their main defence, were no better
garrisoned, and George Clinton, who had the command of them, and who was
in a manner the champion of the Highlands, was absent from his post,
attending the State Legislature at Kingston (Esopus), in Ulster County,
in his capacity of governor.

There were patriot eyes in New York to watch the course of events, and
patriot boats on the river to act as swift messengers. On the 29th of
September Putnam writes to his coadjutor the governor: “I have received
intelligence on which I can fully depend, that the enemy had received a
reinforcement at New York last Thursday, of about three thousand British
and foreign troops; that General Clinton has called in guides who belong
about Croton River; has ordered hard bread to be baked; that the troops
are called from Paulus Hook to King’s Bridge, and the whole troops are
now under marching orders. I think it highly probable the designs of the
enemy are against the posts of the Highlands, or of some part of the
counties of Westchester or Dutchess.” Under these circumstances he
begged a reinforcement of the militia to enable him to maintain his
post, and intimated a wish for the personal assistance and counsel of
the governor. In a postscript, he adds: “The ships are drawn up in the
river, and I believe nothing prevents them from paying us an immediate
visit, but a contrary wind.”

On receiving this letter the governor forthwith hastened to his post in
the Highlands, with such militia force as he could collect. We have
heretofore spoken of his Highland citadel Fort Montgomery, and of the
obstructions of chain, boom, and chevaux-de-frise between it and the
opposite promontory of Anthony’s Nose, with which it had been hoped to
barricade the Hudson. The chain had repeatedly given way under the
pressure of the tide, but the obstructions were still considered
efficient, and were protected by the guns of the fort, and of two
frigates and two armed galleys anchored above.

Fort Clinton had subsequently been erected within rifle shot of Fort
Montgomery, to occupy ground which commanded it. A deep ravine and
stream called Peploep’s Kill, intervened between the two forts, across
which there was a bridge. The governor had his head-quarters in Fort
Montgomery, which was the northern and largest fort, but its works were
unfinished. His brother James had charge of Fort Clinton, which was
complete. The whole force to garrison the associate forts did not exceed
six hundred men, chiefly militia, but they had the veteran Colonel Lamb
of the artillery with them, who had served in Canada, and a company of
his artillerists was distributed in the two forts.

The armament of Sir Henry Clinton, which had been waiting for a wind,
set sail in the course of a day or two and stood up the Hudson, dogged
by American swift-rowing whale-boats. Late at night of the 4th of
October came a barge across the river from Peekskill to Fort Montgomery,
bearing a letter from Putnam to the governor. “This morning,” writes he,
“we had information from our guard boats, that there were two ships of
war, three tenders, and a large number of flat-bottomed boats, coming up
the river. They proceeded up as far as Tarrytown, where they landed
their men. This evening they were followed by one large man-of-war, five
topsail vessels, and a large number of small craft. I have sent off
parties to examine their route and harass their march, if prudent. By
information from several different quarters, we have reason to believe
they intend for this post. They are now making up, as we hear, for the
Croton Bridge.”[75]

The landing of troops at Tarrytown was a mere feint on the part of Sir
Henry to distract the attention of the Americans; after marching a few
miles into the country, they returned and re-embarked; the armament
continued across the Tappan Sea and Haverstraw Bay to Verplanck’s Point,
where, on the 5th, Sir Henry landed with three thousand men about eight
miles below Peekskill.

Putnam drew back to the hills in the rear of the village, to prepare for
the expected attack, and sent off to Governor Clinton for all the troops
he could spare. So far the manœuvres of Sir Henry Clinton had been
successful. It was his plan to threaten an attack on Peekskill and Fort
Independence, and, when he had drawn the attention of the American
commanders to that quarter, to land troops on the western shore of the
Hudson, below the Dunderberg (Thunder Hill), make a rapid march through
the defiles behind that mountain to the rear of Forts Montgomery and
Clinton, come down on them by surprise, and carry them by a _coup de
main_.

Accordingly at an early hour of the following morning, taking advantage
of a thick fog, he crossed with two thousand men to Stony Point, on the
west shore of the river, leaving about a thousand men, chiefly
royalists, at Verplanck’s Point, to keep up a threatening aspect towards
Peekskill. Three frigates, also, were to stand up what is called the
Devil’s Horse Race into Peekskill Bay, and station themselves within
cannon shot of Fort Independence.

The crossing of the troops had been dimly descried from Peekskill, but
they were supposed to be a mere detachment from the main body on a
maraud.

Having accomplished his landing, Sir Henry, conducted by a tory guide,
set out on a forced and circuitous march of several miles by rugged
defiles, round the western base of the Dunderberg. At the entrance of
the pass he left a small force to guard it, and keep up his
communication with the ships. By eight o’clock in the morning he had
effected his march round the Dunderberg, and halted on the northern side
in a ravine, between it and a conical mount called Bear Hill. The
possibility of an enemy’s approach by this pass had been noticed by
Washington in reconnoitring the Highlands, and he had mentioned it in
his instructions to Generals Greene and Knox, when they were sent to
make their military survey, but they considered it impracticable, from
the extreme difficulty of the mountain passes. It is in defiance of
difficulties, however, that surprises are apt to be attempted, and the
most signal have been achieved in the face of seeming impossibilities.

In the ravine between the Dunderberg and Bear Hill, Sir Henry divided
his forces. One division, nine hundred strong, led by Lieutenant-colonel
Campbell, was to make a circuit through the forest round the western
side of Bear Hill, so as to gain the rear of Fort Montgomery. After Sir
Henry had allowed sufficient time for them to make the circuit, he was
to proceed with the other division down the ravine, towards the river,
turn to the left along a narrow strip of land between the Hudson and a
small lake called Sinipink Pond, which lay at the foot of Bear Hill, and
advance upon Fort Clinton. Both forts were to be attacked at the same
time.

The detachment under Campbell set off in high spirits; it was composed
partly of royalists, led by Colonel Beverly Robinson of New York, partly
of Emerick’s chasseurs, and partly of grenadiers, under Lord Rawdon,
then about twenty-four years of age, who had already seen service at
Bunker’s Hill. With him went Count Gabrouski, a Polish nobleman,
aide-de-camp to Sir Henry Clinton, but who had sought to accompany his
friend, Lord Rawdon, in this wild mountain scramble. Every thing thus
far had been conducted with celerity and apparent secrecy, and complete
surprise of both forts was anticipated. Sir Henry had, indeed, outwitted
one of the guardians of the Highlands, but the other was aware of his
designs. Governor Clinton, on receiving intelligence of ships of war
coming up the Hudson, had sent scouts beyond the Dunderberg to watch
their movements. Early on the present morning, word had been brought him
that forty boats were landing a large force at Stony Point. He now, in
his turn, apprehended an attack, and sent to Putnam for reinforcements,
preparing, in the mean time, to make such defence as his scanty means
afforded.

A lieutenant was sent out with thirty men from Fort Clinton, to proceed
along the river-road and reconnoitre. He fell in with the advance guard
of Sir Henry Clinton’s division, and retreated skirmishing to the fort.
A larger detachment was sent out to check the approach of the enemy on
this side; while sixty men, afterwards increased to a hundred, took post
with a brass field-piece in the Bear Hill defile.

It was a narrow and rugged pass, bordered by shagged forests. As
Campbell and his division came pressing forward, they were checked by
the discharge of fire-arms and of the brass field-piece, which swept the
steep defile. The British troops then filed off on each side into the
woods, to surround the Americans. The latter, finding it impossible to
extricate their field-piece in the rugged pass, spiked it, and retreated
into the fort, under cover of the fire of a twelve-pounder, with which
Lamb had posted himself on the crest of a hill.

Sir Henry Clinton had met with equally obstinate opposition in his
approach to Fort Clinton; the narrow strip of land between Lake Sinipink
and the Hudson, along which he advanced, being fortified by an abatis.
By four o’clock the Americans were driven within their works, and both
forts were assailed. The defence was desperate; for Governor Clinton was
a hard fighter, and he was still in hopes of reinforcements from Putnam;
not knowing that the messenger he sent to him had turned traitor, and
deserted to the enemy.

About five o’clock, he was summoned to surrender in five minutes, to
prevent the effusion of blood: the reply was a refusal. About ten
minutes afterwards, there was a general attack upon both forts. It was
resisted with obstinate spirit. The action continued until dusk. The
ships under Commodore Hotham approached near enough to open an irregular
fire upon the forts, and upon the vessels anchored above the
chevaux-de-frise. The latter returned the fire; and the flash and roar
of their cannonry in the gathering darkness and among the echoes of the
mountains increased the terrors of the strife. The works, however, were
too extensive to be manned by the scanty garrisons; they were entered by
different places and carried at the point of the bayonet; the Americans
fought desperately from one redoubt to another; some were slain, some
taken prisoners, and some escaped under cover of the night to the river
or the mountains. “The garrison,” writes Clinton, significantly, “had to
fight their way out as many as could, as we determined not to
surrender.”

His brother James was saved from a deadly thrust of a bayonet, by a
garrison orderly book in his pocket; but he received a flesh-wound in
the thigh. He slid down a precipice, one hundred feet high, into the
ravine between the forts, and escaped to the woods. The governor leaped
down the rocks to the river side, where a boat was putting off with a
number of the fugitives. They turned back to receive him, but he
generously refused to endanger their safety, as the boat was already
loaded to the gunwale. It was only on receiving assurance of its being
capable of bearing his additional weight, that he consented to enter.
The boat crossed the Hudson in safety, and before midnight the governor
was with Putnam, at Continental Village, concerting further measures.

Putnam had been completely outmanœuvred by Sir Henry Clinton. He had
continued until late in the morning, in the belief that Peekskill and
Fort Independence were to be the objects of attack. His pickets and
scouts could not ascertain the number of the enemy remaining on the east
side of the river; a large fire near Stony Point made him think the
troops which had crossed were merely burning storehouses; while ships,
galleys, and flat-bottomed boats seemed preparing to land forces at Fort
Independence and Peekskill. In the course of the morning he sallied
forth with Brigadier-general Parsons, to reconnoitre the ground near the
enemy. After their return they were alarmed, he says, by “a very heavy
and hot firing both of small-arms and cannon, at Fort Montgomery,” which
must have made a tremendous uproar among the echoes of the Dunderberg.
Aware of the real point of danger, he immediately detached five hundred
men to reinforce the garrison. They had six miles to march along the
eastern shore, and then to cross the river; before they could do so the
fate of the forts was decided.

British historians acknowledge, that the valor and resolution displayed
by the Americans in the defence of these forts were in no instance
exceeded during the war; their loss in killed, wounded and missing, was
stated at two hundred and fifty, a large proportion of the number
engaged. Their gallant defence awakened no generous sentiment in the
victors. “As the soldiers,” observes the British writer, “were much
irritated, as well by the fatigue they had undergone and the opposition
they met, as by the loss of some brave and favorite officers, the
slaughter of the enemy was considerable.”[76]

Among the officers thus deplored, and bloodily revenged, was Colonel
Campbell, who commanded the detachment. At his fall the command devolved
on Colonel Beverly Robinson of the American loyalists. Another officer
slain was Major Grant, of the New York volunteers. Count Gabrouski, the
Polish aide-de-camp of Sir Henry Clinton, had gallantly signalized
himself by the side of his friend, Lord Rawdon, who led the grenadiers
in storming Fort Montgomery. The count received his death wound at the
foot of the ramparts. Giving his sword to a grenadier: “Take this sword
to Lord Rawdon,” said he, “and tell him the owner died like a
soldier.”[77]

On the capture of the forts, the American frigates and galleys stationed
for the protection of the chevaux-de-frise slipped their cables, made
all sail, and endeavored to escape up the river. The wind, however,
proved adverse; there was danger of their falling into the hands of the
enemy; the crews, therefore, set them on fire and abandoned them. As
every sail was set, the vessels, we are told, were soon “magnificent
pyramids of fire;” the surrounding mountains were lit up by the glare,
and a train of ruddy light gleamed along the river. They were in a part
of the Highlands famous for its echoes: as the flames gradually reached
the loaded cannon, their thundering reports were multiplied and
prolonged along the rocky shores. The vessels at length blew up with
tremendous explosions, and all again was darkness.[78]

On the following morning, the chevaux-de-frise and other obstructions
between Fort Montgomery and Anthony’s Nose were cleared away: the
Americans evacuated Forts Independence and Constitution, and a free
passage up the Hudson was open for the British ships. Sir Henry Clinton
proceeded no further in person, but left the rest of the enterprise to
be accomplished by Sir James Wallace and General Vaughan, with a flying
squadron of light frigates, and a considerable detachment of troops.

Putnam had retreated to a pass in the mountains, on the east side of the
river, near Fishkill, having removed as much of the stores and baggage
as possible from the post he had abandoned. The old general was somewhat
mortified at having been outwitted by the enemy, but endeavored to shift
the responsibility. In a letter to Washington (Oct. 8th), he writes: “I
have repeatedly informed your Excellency of the enemy’s design against
this post; but, from some motive or other, you always differed from me
in opinion. As this conjecture of mine has for once proved right, I
cannot omit informing you, that my real and sincere opinion is, that
they now mean to join General Burgoyne with the utmost despatch.
Governor Clinton is exerting himself in collecting the militia of this
State. Brigadier-general Parsons I have sent off to forward in the
Connecticut militia, which are now arriving in great numbers. I
therefore hope and trust, that, in the course of a few days, I shall be
able to oppose the progress of the enemy.”

He had concerted with Governor Clinton that they should move to the
northward with their forces, along the opposite shores of the Hudson,
endeavoring to keep pace with the enemy’s ships and cover the country
from their attacks.

The governor was in the neighborhood of New Windsor, just above the
Highlands, where he had posted himself to rally what he termed his
“broken but brave troops,” and to call out the militia of Ulster and
Orange. “I am persuaded,” writes he, “if the militia will join me, we
can save the country from destruction, and defeat the enemy’s design of
assisting their Northern army.” The militia, however, were not as prompt
as usual in answering to the call of their popular and brave-hearted
governor. “They are well disposed,” writes he, “but anxious about the
immediate safety of their respective families (who, for many miles, are
yet moving further from the river); they come in the morning and return
in the evening, and I never know when I have them, or what my strength
is.”[79]

On the 9th, two persons coming from Fort Montgomery were arrested by his
guards, and brought before him for examination. One was much agitated,
and was observed to put something hastily into his mouth and swallow it.
An emetic was administered, and brought up a small silver bullet. Before
he could be prevented he swallowed it again. On his refusing a second
emetic, the governor threatened to have him hanged and his body opened.
The threat produced the bullet in the preceding manner. It was oval in
form and hollow, with a screw in the centre, and contained a note from
Sir Henry Clinton to Burgoyne, written on a slip of thin paper, and
dated (Oct. 8th) from Fort Montgomery. “_Nous y voici_ (here we are),
and nothing between us and Gates. I sincerely hope this little success
of ours will facilitate your operations.”[80]

The bearer of the letter was tried and convicted as a spy, and sentenced
to be hanged.

The enemy’s light-armed vessels were now making their way up the river;
landing marauding parties occasionally to make depredations.

As soon as the governor could collect a little force, he pressed forward
to protect Kingston (Esopus), the seat of the State legislature. The
enemy in the mean time landed from their ships, routed about one hundred
and fifty militia collected to oppose them, marched to the village, set
fire to it in every part, consuming great quantities of stores collected
there, and then retreated to their ships.

Governor Clinton was two hours too late. He beheld the flames from a
distance; and having brought with him the spy, the bearer of the silver
bullet, he hanged him on an apple-tree in sight of the burning village.

Having laid Kingston, the seat of the State government, in ashes, the
enemy proceeded in their ravages, destroying the residences of
conspicuous patriots at Rhinebeck, Livingston Manor, and elsewhere, and
among others the mansion of the widow of the brave General Montgomery:
trusting to close their desolating career by a triumphant junction with
Burgoyne at Albany.

CHAPTER XXII.

SCARCITY IN THE BRITISH CAMP—GATES BIDES HIS TIME—FORAGING MOVEMENT OF
BURGOYNE—BATTLE OF THE 7TH OCTOBER—ROUT OF THE BRITISH AND
HESSIANS—SITUATION OF THE BARONESS RIEDESEL AND LADY HARRIET ACKLAND
DURING THE BATTLE—DEATH OF GEN. FRAZER—HIS FUNERAL—NIGHT RETREAT OF
THE BRITISH—EXPEDITION OF LADY HARRIET ACKLAND—DESPERATE SITUATION
OF BURGOYNE AT SARATOGA—CAPITULATION—SURRENDER—CONDUCT OF THE
AMERICAN TROOPS—SCENES IN THE CAMP—GALLANT COURTESY OF SCHUYLER TO
THE BARONESS RIEDESEL—HIS MAGNANIMOUS CONDUCT TOWARD BURGOYNE—RETURN
OF THE BRITISH DOWN THE HUDSON.

While Sir Henry Clinton had been thundering in the Highlands, Burgoyne
and his army had been wearing out hope within their intrenchments,
vigilantly watched, but unassailed by the Americans. They became
impatient even of this impunity. “The enemy, though he can bring four
times more soldiers against us, shows no desire to make an attack,”
writes a Hessian officer.[81]

Arnold, too, was chafing in the camp, and longing for a chance, as
usual, “to right himself” by his sword. In a letter to Gates he tries to
goad him on. “I think it my duty (which nothing shall deter me from
doing) to acquaint you, the army are clamorous for action. The militia
(who compose great part of the army) are already threatening to go home.
One fortnight’s inaction will, I make no doubt, lessen your army by
sickness and desertion, at least four thousand men. In which time the
enemy may be reinforced, and make good their retreat.

“I have reason to think, from intelligence since received that, had we
improved the 20th of September, it might have ruined the enemy. That is
past; let me entreat you to improve the present time.”

Gates was not to be goaded into action; he saw the desperate situation
of Burgoyne, and bided his time. “Perhaps,” writes he, “despair may
dictate to him to risk all upon one throw; he is an old gamester, and in
his time has seen all chances. I will endeavor to be ready to prevent
his good fortune, and, if possible, secure my own.”[82]

On the 7th of October, but four or five days remained of the time
Burgoyne had pledged himself to await the co-operation of Sir Henry
Clinton. He now determined to make a grand movement on the left of the
American camp, to discover whether he could force a passage, should it
be necessary to advance, or dislodge it from its position, should he
have to retreat. Another object was to cover a forage of the army, which
was suffering from the great scarcity.

For this purpose fifteen hundred of his best troops, with two
twelve-pounders, two howitzers and six six-pounders, were to be led by
himself, seconded by Major-generals Phillips and Riedesel, and
Brigadier-general Fraser. “No equal number of men,” say the British
accounts, “were ever better commanded; and it would have been difficult,
indeed, to have matched the men with an equal number.”[83]

On leaving his camp, Burgoyne committed the guard of it on the high
grounds to Brigadier-generals Hamilton and Specht, and of the redoubts
on the low grounds near the river, to Brigadier-general Gall.

Forming his troops within three quarters of a mile of the left of the
Americans, though covered from their sight by the forest, he sent out a
corps of rangers, provincials and Indians, to skulk through the woods,
get in their rear, and give them an alarm at the time the attack took
place in front.

The movement, though carried on behind the screen of forests, was
discovered. In the afternoon the advanced guard of the American centre
beat to arms: the alarm was repeated throughout the line. Gates ordered
his officers to their alarm posts, and sent forth Wilkinson, the
adjutant-general, to inquire the cause. From a rising ground in an open
place he descried the enemy in force, their foragers busy in a field of
wheat, the officers reconnoitring the left wing of the camp with
telescopes from the top of a cabin.

Returning to the camp, Wilkinson reported the position and movements of
the enemy; that their front was open, their flanks rested on woods,
under cover of which they might be attacked and their right was skirted
by a height: that they were reconnoitring the left, and he thought
offered battle.

“Well, then,” replied Gates, “order out Morgan to begin the game.”

A plan of attack was soon arranged. Morgan with his riflemen and a body
of infantry was sent to make a circuit through the woods, and get
possession of the heights on the right of the enemy, while General Poor
with his brigade of New York and New Hampshire troops, and a part of
Learned’s brigade, were to advance against the enemy’s left. Morgan was
to make an attack on the heights as soon as he should hear the fire
opened below.

Burgoyne now drew out his troops in battle array. The grenadiers, under
Major Ackland, with the artillery, under Major Williams, formed his
left, and were stationed on a rising ground, with a rivulet called Mill
Creek in front. Next to them were the Hessians, under Riedesel, and
British, under Phillips, forming the centre. The light-infantry, under
Lord Balcarras, formed the extreme right; having in the advance a
detachment of five hundred picked men, under General Fraser, ready to
flank the Americans as soon as they should be attacked in front.

He had scarce made these arrangements, when he was astonished and
confounded by a thundering of artillery on his left, and a rattling fire
of rifles on the woody heights on his right. The troops under Poor
advanced steadily up the ascent where Ackland’s grenadiers and Williams’
artillery were stationed; received their fire, and then rushed forward.
Ackland’s grenadiers received the first brunt, but it extended along the
line, as detachment after detachment arrived, and was carried on with
inconceivable fury. The Hessian artillerists spoke afterwards of the
heedlessness with which the Americans rushed upon the cannon, while they
were discharging grape shot. The artillery was repeatedly taken and
retaken, and at length remained in possession of the Americans, who
turned it upon its former owners. Major Ackland was wounded in both
legs, and taken prisoner. Major Williams of the artillery was also
captured. The headlong impetuosity of the attack confounded the regular
tacticians. Much of this has been ascribed to the presence and example
of Arnold. That daring officer, who had lingered in the camp in
expectation of a fight, was exasperated at having no command assigned
him. On hearing the din of battle, he could restrain no longer his
warlike impulse, but threw himself on his horse and sallied forth. Gates
saw him issuing from the camp. “He’ll do some rash thing!” cried he, and
sent his aide-de-camp, Major Armstrong to call him back. Arnold surmised
his errand and evaded it. Putting spurs to his horse, he dashed into the
scene of action, and was received with acclamation. Being the superior
officer in the field his orders were obeyed of course. Putting himself
at the head of the troops of Learned’s brigade, he attacked the Hessians
in the enemy’s centre, and broke them with repeated charges. Indeed, for
a time his actions seemed to partake of frenzy; riding hither and
thither, brandishing his sword, and cheering on the men to acts of
desperation. In one of his paroxysms of excitement, he struck and
wounded an American officer in the head with his sword, without, as he
afterwards declared, being conscious of the act. Wilkinson asserts that
he was partly intoxicated; but Arnold needed only his own irritated
pride and the smell of gunpowder to rouse him to acts of madness.

Morgan, in the mean time, was harassing the enemy’s right wing with an
incessant fire of small-arms, and preventing it from sending any
assistance to the centre. General Fraser with his chosen corps, for some
time rendered great protection to this wing. Mounted on an iron-gray
charger, his uniform of a field officer made him a conspicuous object
for Morgan’s sharpshooters. One bullet cut the crupper of his horse,
another grazed his mane. “You are singled out, general,” said his
aide-de-camp, “and had better shift your ground.” “My duty forbids me to
fly from danger,” was the reply. A moment afterwards he was shot down by
a marksman posted in a tree. Two grenadiers bore him to the camp. His
fall was as a death-blow to his corps. The arrival on the field of a
large reinforcement of New York troops under General Ten Broeck,
completed the confusion. Burgoyne saw that the field was lost, and now
only thought of saving his camp. The troops nearest to the lines were
ordered to throw themselves within them, while Generals Phillips and
Riedesel covered the retreat of the main body, which was in danger of
being cut off. The artillery was abandoned, all the horses, and most of
the men who had so bravely defended it, having been killed. The troops,
though hard pressed, retired in good order. Scarcely had they entered
the camp when it was stormed with great fury; the Americans, with Arnold
at their head, rushing to the lines under a severe discharge of grape
shot and small-arms. Lord Balcarras defended the intrenchments bravely;
the action was fierce, and well sustained on both sides. After an
ineffectual attempt to make his way into the camp in this quarter at the
point of the bayonet, Arnold spurred his horse toward the right flank of
the camp occupied by the German reserve, where Lieutenant-colonel Brooks
was making a general attack with a Massachusetts regiment. Here, with a
part of a platoon, he forced his way into a sally port, but a shot from
the retreating Hessians killed his horse, and wounded him in the same
leg which had received a wound before Quebec. He was borne off from the
field, but not until the victory was complete; for the Germans retreated
from the works, leaving on the field their brave defender,
Lieutenant-colonel Breyman, mortally wounded.

The night was now closing in. The victory of the Americans was decisive.
They had routed the enemy, killed and wounded a great number, made many
prisoners, taken their field-artillery, and gained possession of a part
of their works which laid open the right and the rear of their camp.
They lay all night on their arms, within half a mile of the scene of
action, prepared to renew the assault upon the camp in the morning.
Affecting scenes had occurred in the enemy’s camp during this deadly
conflict.

In the morning previous to the battle, the Baroness De Riedesel had
breakfasted with her husband in the camp. Generals Burgoyne, Phillips,
and Fraser were to dine with her husband and herself, in a house in the
neighborhood, where she and her children were quartered. She observed
much movement in the camp, but was quieted by the assurance that it was
to be a mere reconnaissance. On her way home she met a number of
Indians, painted and decorated and armed with guns, and shouting war!
war! Her fears were awakened, and scarce had she reached home when she
heard the rattling of fire-arms and the thundering of artillery. The din
increased, and soon became so terrible that she “was more dead than
alive.” About one o’clock came one of the generals who were to have
dined with her—poor General Fraser—brought upon a handbarrow, mortally
wounded. “The table,” writes she, “which was already prepared for
dinner, was immediately removed, and a bed placed in its stead for the
general. I sat terrified and trembling in a corner. The noise grew more
alarming, and I was in a continual agony and tremor, while thinking that
my husband might soon, also, be brought in, wounded like General Fraser.
That poor general said to the surgeon, ‘Tell me the truth, is there no
hope?’—There was none. Prayers were read, after which he desired that
General Burgoyne should be requested to have him buried on the next day
at 6 o’clock in the evening, on a hill where a breastwork had been
constructed.”

Lady Harriet Ackland was in a tent near by. News came to her that her
husband was mortally wounded and taken prisoner. She was in an agony of
distress. The baroness endeavored to persuade her that his wound might
not be dangerous, and advised her to ask permission to join him. She
divided the night between soothing attentions to Lady Harriet, and
watchful care of her children who were asleep, but who she feared might
disturb the poor dying general. Towards morning, thinking his agony
approaching, she wrapped them in blankets and retired with them into the
entrance hall. Courteous even in death, the general sent her several
messages to beg her pardon for the trouble he thought he was giving her.
At 8 o’clock in the morning he expired.[84]

Burgoyne had shifted his position during the night, to heights about a
mile to the north, close to the river, and covered in front by a ravine.
Early in the morning, the Americans took possession of the camp which he
had abandoned. A random fire of artillery and small-arms was kept up on
both sides during the day. The British sharpshooters stationed in the
ravine did some execution, and General Lincoln was wounded in the leg
while reconnoitring. Gates, however, did not think it advisable to force
a desperate enemy when in a strong position, at the expense of a
prodigal waste of blood. He took all measures to cut off his retreat and
insure a surrender. General Fellows, with 1,400 men, had already been
sent to occupy the high ground east of the Hudson opposite Saratoga
Ford. Other detachments were sent higher up the river in the direction
of Lake George.

Burgoyne saw that nothing was left for him but a prompt and rapid
retreat to Saratoga, yet in this he was delayed by a melancholy duty of
friendship; it was to attend the obsequies of the gallant Fraser, who,
according to his dying request, was to be interred at six o’clock in the
evening, within a redoubt which had been constructed on a hill.

Between sunset and dark, his body was borne to the appointed place by
grenadiers of his division, followed by the generals and their staffs.
The Americans seeing indistinctly what, in the twilight, appeared to be
a movement of troops up the hill and in the redoubt, pointed their
artillery in that direction. “Cannon balls flew around and above the
assembled mourners,” writes the Baroness Riedesel, who was a spectator
from a distance. “Many cannon balls flew close by me, but my whole
attention was engaged by the funeral scene, where I saw my husband
exposed to imminent danger. This, indeed, was not a moment to be
apprehensive for my own safety. General Gates protested afterwards, that
had he known what was going on, he would have stopped the fire
immediately.”[85]

We have the scene still more feelingly described by Burgoyne.

“The incessant cannonade during the ceremony; the steady attitude and
unaltered voice with which the chaplain officiated, though frequently
covered with dust which the shot threw up on all sides of him; the mute,
but expressive mixture of sensibility and indignation upon every
countenance; these objects will remain to the last of life upon the mind
of every man who was present. The growing darkness added to the scenery,
and the whole marked a character of that juncture which would make one
of the finest subjects for the pencil of a master that the field ever
exhibited. To the canvas and to the faithful page of a more important
historian, gallant friend! I consign thy memory. There may thy talents,
thy manly virtues, their progress and their period, find due
distinction: and long may they survive, long after the frail record of
my pen shall be forgotten!”

General Fraser was well worthy of this eulogium. He was the most popular
officer of the army, and one of the most efficient. He was one in whom
Burgoyne reposed the most implicit confidence, and deeply must it have
added to his gloom of mind at this dark hour of his fortunes, to have
this his friend and counsellor, and brother in arms shot down at his
side.

“The reflections arising from these scenes,” writes he, “gave place to
the perplexities of the night. A defeated army was to retreat from an
enemy flushed with success, much superior in front, and occupying strong
posts in the country behind. We were equally liable upon that march to
be attacked in front, flank, or rear.”

Preparations had been made to decamp immediately after the funeral, and
at nine o’clock at night the retreat commenced. Large fires had been
lighted, and many tents were left standing to conceal the movement. The
hospital, in which were about three hundred sick and wounded, was
abandoned, as were likewise several bateaux, laden with baggage and
provisions.

It was a dismal retreat. The rain fell in torrents; the roads were deep
and broken, and the horses weak and half-starved from want of forage. At
daybreak there was a halt to refresh the troops, and give time for the
bateaux laden with provision to come abreast. In three hours the march
was resumed, but before long there was another halt, to guard against an
American reconnoitring party which appeared in sight. When the troops
were again about to march, General Burgoyne received a message from Lady
Harriet Ackland, expressing a wish to pass to the American camp, and ask
permission from General Gates to join her husband. “Though I was ready
to believe,” writes Burgoyne, “(for I had experience), that patience and
fortitude, in a supreme degree, were to be found, as well as every other
virtue, under the most tender forms, I was astonished at this proposal.
After so long an agitation of spirits, exhausted not only for want of
rest, but absolutely want of food, drenched in rains for twelve hours
together, that a woman should be capable of such an undertaking as
delivering herself to the enemy, probably in the night, and uncertain of
what hands she might first fall into, appeared an effort above human
nature. The assistance I was enabled to give her was small indeed; I had
not even a cup of wine to offer her; but I was told she had found from
some kind and fortunate hand, a little rum and dirty water. All I could
furnish her was an open boat, and a few lines written upon dirty wet
paper, to General Gates, recommending her to his protection.

“Mr. Brudenell, the chaplain of the artillery (the same gentleman who
had officiated so signally at General Fraser’s funeral), readily
undertook to accompany her, and with one female servant, and the major’s
valet-de-chambre (who had a ball which he had received in the late
action then in his shoulder), she rowed down the river to meet the
enemy.”

The night was far advanced before the boat reached the American
outposts. It was challenged by a sentinel who threatened to fire into it
should it attempt to pass. Mr. Brudenell made known that it was a flag
of truce, and stated who was the personage it brought; report was made
to the adjutant-general. Treachery was apprehended, and word was
returned to detain the flag until daylight. Lady Harriet and her
companions were allowed to land. Major Dearborn, the officer on guard,
surrendered his chamber in the guard-house to her ladyship; bedding was
brought, a fire was made, tea was served, and her mind being relieved by
assurances of her husband’s safety, she was enabled to pass a night of
comparative comfort and tranquillity.[86] She proceeded to the American
camp in the morning, when, Burgoyne acknowledges, “she was received and
accommodated by General Gates, with all the humanity and respect that
her rank, her merits, and her fortune deserved.”

To resume the fortunes of the retreating army. It rained terribly
through the residue of the 9th, and in consequence of repeated halts,
they did not reach Saratoga until evening. A detachment of Americans had
arrived there before them, and were throwing up intrenchments on a
commanding height at Fish Kill. They abandoned their work, forded the
Hudson, and joined a force under General Fellows, posted on the hills
east of the river. The bridge over the Fish Kill had been destroyed; the
artillery could not cross until the ford was examined. Exhausted by
fatigue, the men for the most part had not strength nor inclination to
cut wood nor make fire, but threw themselves upon the wet ground in
their wet clothes, and slept under the continuing rain. “I was quite
wet,” writes the Baroness Riedesel, “and was obliged to remain in that
condition for want of a place to change my apparel. I seated myself near
a fire and undressed the children, and we then laid ourselves upon some
straw.”

At daylight on the 10th, the artillery and the last of the troops passed
the fords of the Fish Kill, and took a position upon the heights, and in
the redoubts formerly constructed there. To protect the troops from
being attacked in passing the ford by the Americans, who were
approaching, Burgoyne ordered fire to be set to the farm houses and
other buildings on the south side of the Fish Kill. Amongst the rest,
the noble mansion of General Schuyler, with storehouses, granaries,
mills, and the other appurtenances of a great rural establishment, was
entirely consumed. Burgoyne himself estimated the value of property
destroyed at ten thousand pounds sterling. The measure was condemned by
friend as well as foe, but he justified it on the principles of
self-preservation.

The force under General Fellows, posted on the opposite hills of the
Hudson, now opened a fire from a battery commanding the ford of that
river. Thus prevented from crossing, Burgoyne thought to retreat along
the west side as far as Fort George, on the way to Canada, and sent out
workmen under a strong escort to repair the bridges, and open the road
toward Fort Edward. The escort was soon recalled and the work abandoned;
for the Americans under Gates appeared in great force, on the heights
south of the Fish Kill, and seemed preparing to cross and bring on an
engagement.

The opposite shores of the Hudson were now lined with detachments of
Americans. Bateaux laden with provisions, which had attended the
movements of the army, were fired upon, many taken, some retaken with
loss of life. It was necessary to land the provisions from such as
remained, and bring them up the hill into the camp, which was done under
a heavy fire from the American artillery.

Burgoyne called now a general council of war, in which it was resolved,
since the bridges could not be repaired, to abandon the artillery and
baggage, let the troops carry a supply of provisions upon their backs,
push forward in the night, and force their way across the fords at or
near Fort Edward.

Before the plan could be put in execution, scouts brought word that the
Americans were intrenched opposite those fords, and encamped in force
with cannon, on the high ground between Fort Edward and Fort George. In
fact, by this time the American army, augmented by militia and
volunteers from all quarters, had posted itself in strong positions on
both sides of the Hudson, so as to extend three fourths of a circle
round the enemy.

Giving up all further attempt at retreat, Burgoyne now fortified his
camp on the heights to the north of Fish Kill, still hoping that succor
might arrive from Sir Henry Clinton, or that an attack upon his trenches
might give him some chance of cutting his way through.

In this situation his troops lay continually on their arms. His camp was
subjected to cannonading from Fellows’ batteries on the opposite side of
the Hudson, Gates’s batteries on the south of Fish Kill, and a galling
fire from Morgan’s riflemen, stationed on heights in the rear.

The Baroness De Riedesel and her helpless little ones were exposed to
the dangers and horrors of this long turmoil. On the morning when the
attack was opened, General De Riedesel sent them to take refuge in a
house in the vicinity. On their way thither the baroness saw several men
on the opposite bank of the Hudson levelling their muskets and about to
fire. Throwing her children in the back part of the carriage the anxious
mother endeavored to cover them with her body. The men fired; a poor
wounded soldier, who had sought shelter behind the carriage, received a
shot which broke his arm. The baroness succeeded in getting to the
house. Some women and crippled soldiers had already taken refuge there.
It was mistaken for head-quarters and cannonaded. The baroness retreated
into the cellar, laid herself in a corner near the door with her
children’s heads upon her knees, and passed a sleepless night of mental
anguish.

In the morning the cannonade began anew. Cannon balls passed through the
house repeatedly with a tremendous noise. A poor soldier who was about
to have a leg amputated, lost the other by one of these balls. The day
was passed among such horrors. The wives of a major, a lieutenant and a
commissary, were her companions in misery. “They sat together,” she
says, “deploring their situation, when some one entered to announce bad
news.” There was whispering among her companions, with deep looks of
sorrow. “I immediately suspected,” says she, “that my husband had been
killed. I shrieked aloud.” She was soothed by assurances that nothing
had happened to him; and was given to understand by a sidelong glance,
that the wife of the lieutenant was the unfortunate one; her husband had
been killed.

For six days, she and her children remained in this dismal place of
refuge. The cellar was spacious, with three compartments, but the number
of occupants increased. The wounded were brought in to be relieved—or to
die. She remained with her children near the door, to escape more easily
in case of fire. She put straw under mattresses; on these she lay with
her little ones, and her female servants slept near her.

Her frequent dread was, that the army might be driven off or march away,
and she be left behind. “I crept up the staircase,” says she, “more than
once, and when I saw our soldiers near their watchfires, I became more
calm, and could even have slept.”

There was great distress for water. The river was near, but the
Americans shot every one who approached it. A soldier’s wife at length
summoned resolution, and brought a supply. “The Americans,” adds the
baroness, “told us afterwards, that they spared her _on account of her
sex_.”

“I endeavored,” continues she, “to dispel my melancholy, by constantly
attending to the wounded. I made them tea and coffee, for which I
received their warmest acknowledgments. I often shared my dinner with
them.”

Her husband visited her once or twice daily, at the risk of his life. On
one occasion, General Phillips accompanied him, but was overcome when he
saw the sufferings and danger by which this noble woman and her children
were surrounded, and of which we have given a very subdued picture. “I
would not for ten thousand guineas see this place again,” exclaimed the
general. “I am heart-broken with what I have seen.”

Burgoyne was now reduced to despair. His forces were diminished by
losses, by the desertion of Canadians and royalists, and the total
defection of the Indians; and on inspection it was found that the
provisions on hand, even upon short allowance, would not suffice for
more than three days. A council of war, therefore, was called of all the
generals, field-officers and captains commanding troops. The
deliberations were brief. All concurred in the necessity of opening a
treaty with General Gates, for a surrender on honorable terms. While
they were yet deliberating, an eighteen pound ball passed through the
tent, sweeping across the table round which they were seated.

Negotiations were accordingly opened on the 13th, under sanction of a
flag. Lieutenant Kingston, Burgoyne’s adjutant-general, was the bearer
of a note, proposing a cessation of hostilities until terms could be
adjusted.

The first terms offered by Gates were that the enemy should lay down
their arms within their intrenchments, and surrender themselves
prisoners of war. These were indignantly rejected, with an intimation
that, if persisted in, hostilities must recommence.

Counter proposals were then made by General Burgoyne, and finally
accepted by General Gates. According to these, the British troops were
to march out of the camp with artillery and all the honors of war, to a
fixed place, where they were to pile their arms at a word of command
from their own officers. They were to be allowed a free passage to
Europe upon condition of not serving again in America, during the
present war. The army was not to be separated, especially the men from
the officers; roll-calling and other regular duties were to be
permitted; the officers were to be on parole, and to wear their
side-arms. All private property to be sacred; no baggage to be searched
or molested. All persons appertaining to or following the camp, whatever
might be their country, were to be comprehended in these terms of
capitulation.

Schuyler’s late secretary, Colonel Varick, who was still in camp, writes
to him on the 13th: “Burgoyne says he will send all his general officers
at ten, in the morning, to finish and settle the business. This, I
trust, will be accomplished before twelve, and then I shall have the
honor and happiness of congratulating you on the glorious success of our
arms. I wish to God I could say under your command.

“If you wish to see Burgoyne, you will be necessitated to see him
here.”[87]

In the night of the 16th, before the articles of capitulation had been
signed, a British officer from the army below made his way into the
camp, with despatches from Sir Henry Clinton, announcing that he had
captured the forts in the Highlands, and had pushed detachments further
up the Hudson. Burgoyne now submitted to the consideration of officers,
“whether it was consistent with public faith, and if so, expedient, to
suspend the execution of the treaty and trust to events.” His own
opinion inclined in the affirmative, but the majority of the council
determined that the public faith was fully plighted. The capitulation
was accordingly signed by Burgoyne on the 17th of October.

The British army, at the time of the surrender, was reduced by capture,
death, and desertion, from nine thousand to five thousand seven hundred
and fifty-two men. That of Gates, regulars and militia, amounted to ten
thousand five hundred and fifty-four men on duty; between two and three
thousand being on the sick list, or absent on furlough.

By this capitulation, the Americans gained a fine train of artillery,
seven thousand stand of arms, and a great quantity of clothing, tents,
and military stores of all kinds.

When the British troops marched forth to deposit their arms at the
appointed place, Colonel Wilkinson, the adjutant-general, was the only
American soldier to be seen. Gates had ordered his troops to keep
rigidly within their lines, that they might not add by their presence to
the humiliation of a brave enemy. In fact, throughout all his conduct,
during the campaign, British writers, and Burgoyne himself, give him
credit for acting with great humanity and forbearance.[88]

Wilkinson, in his Memoirs, describes the first meeting of Gates and
Burgoyne, which took place at the head of the American camp. They were
attended by their staffs and by other general officers. Burgoyne was in
a rich royal uniform. Gates in a plain blue frock. When they had
approached nearly within sword’s length they reined up and halted.
Burgoyne, raising his hat most gracefully, said: “The fortune of war,
General Gates, has made me your prisoner;” to which the other, returning
his salute, replied, “I shall always be ready to testify that it has not
been through any fault of your excellency.”

“We passed through the American camp,” writes the already cited Hessian
officer, “in which all the regiments were drawn out beside the
artillery, and stood under arms. Not one of them was uniformly clad,
each had on the clothes which he wore in the fields, the church, or the
tavern. They stood, however, like soldiers, well arranged, and with a
military air, in which there was but little to find fault with. All the
muskets had bayonets, and the sharpshooters had rifles. The men all
stood so still that we were filled with wonder. Not one of them made a
single motion as if he would speak with his neighbor. Nay more, all the
lads that stood there in rank and file, kind nature had formed so trim,
so slender, so nervous, that it was a pleasure to look at them, and we
all were surprised at the sight of such a handsome, well-formed
race.”[89] “In all earnestness,” adds he, “English America surpasses the
most of Europe in the growth and looks of its male population. The whole
nation has a natural turn and talent for war and a soldier’s life.”

He made himself somewhat merry, however, with the equipments of the
officers. A few wore regimentals; and those fashioned to their own
notions as to cut and color, being provided by themselves. Brown coats
with sea-green facings, white linings and silver trimmings, and gray
coats in abundance, with buff facings and cuffs, and gilt buttons; in
short, every variety of pattern.

The brigadiers and generals wore uniforms and belts which designated
their rank; but most of the colonels and other officers were in their
ordinary clothes; a musket and bayonet in hand, and a cartridge-box or
powder-horn over the shoulder. But what especially amused him was the
variety of uncouth wigs worn by the officers; the lingerings of an
uncouth fashion.

Most of the troops thus noticed were the hastily levied militia, the
yeomanry of the country. “There were regular regiments also,” he said,
“which, for want of time and cloth, were not yet equipped in uniform.
These had standards with various emblems and mottoes, some of which had
for us a very satirical signification.

“But I must say to the credit of the enemy’s regiments,” continues he,
“that not a man was to be found therein who, as we marched by, made even
a sign of taunting, insulting exultation, hatred, or any other evil
feeling; on the contrary, they seemed as though they would rather do us
honor. As we marched by the great tent of General Gates, he invited in
the brigadiers and commanders of regiments, and various refreshments
were set before them. Gates is between fifty and sixty years of age;
wears his own thin gray hair; is active and friendly, and on account of
the weakness of his eyes, constantly wears spectacles. At head-quarters
we met many officers, who treated us with all possible politeness.”

We now give another page of the Baroness De Riedesel’s fortunes, at this
time of the surrender. “My husband’s groom brought me a message to join
him with the children. I once more seated myself in my dear calash, and,
while riding through the American camp was gratified to observe that
nobody looked at us with disrespect, but, on the contrary, greeted us,
and seemed touched at the sight of a captive mother with her children. I
must candidly confess that I did not present myself, though so situated,
with much courage to the enemy, for the thing was entirely new to me.
When I drew near the tents, a good-looking man advanced towards me, and
helping the children from the calash, kissed and caressed them: he then
offered me his arm and tears trembled in his eyes. ‘You tremble,’ said
he; ‘do not be alarmed, I pray you.’ ‘Sir,’ cried I, ‘a countenance so
expressive of benevolence, and the kindness you have evinced towards my
children, are sufficient to dispel all apprehensions.’ He then ushered
me into the tent of General Gates, whom I found engaged in friendly
conversation with Generals Burgoyne and Phillips. General Burgoyne said
to me, ‘You can now be quiet, and free from all apprehension of danger.’
I replied that I should indeed be reprehensible, if I felt any anxiety,
when our general felt none, and was on such friendly terms with General
Gates.

“All the generals remained to dine with General Gates. The gentleman who
had received me with so much kindness, came and said to me, ‘You may
find it embarrassing to be the only lady in such a large company of
gentlemen; will you come with your children to my tent, and partake of a
frugal dinner, offered with the best will?’ ‘By the kindness you show to
me,’ returned I, ‘you induce me to believe that you have a wife and
children.’ He informed me that he was General Schuyler. He regaled me
with smoked tongues, which were excellent, with beefsteaks, potatoes,
fresh butter and bread. Never did a dinner give me more pleasure than
this, and I read the same happy change on the countenances of all those
around me. That my husband was out of danger, was a still greater joy.
After dinner, General Schuyler begged me to pay him a visit at his house
at Albany, where he expected that General Burgoyne would also be his
guest. I sent to ask my husband’s directions, who advised me to accept
the invitation.” The reception which she met with at Albany, from
General Schuyler’s wife and daughters, was not, she said, like the
reception of enemies, but of the most intimate friends. “They loaded us
with kindness,” writes she, “and they behaved in the same manner towards
General Burgoyne, though he had ordered their splendid establishment to
be burnt, and without any necessity, it was said. But all their actions
proved, that in the sight of the misfortunes of others they quickly
forgot their own.” It was, in fact, the lot of Burgoyne to have coals of
fire heaped on his head by those with whom he had been at enmity. One of
the first persons whom he had encountered in the American camp was
General Schuyler. He attempted to make some explanation or excuse about
the recent destruction of his property. Schuyler begged him not to think
of it, as the occasion justified it, according to the principles and
rules of war.

“He did more,” said Burgoyne, in a speech before the House of Commons:
“he sent an aide-de-camp to conduct me to Albany; in order, as he
expressed it, to procure better quarters than a stranger might be able
to find. That gentleman conducted me to a very elegant house, and, to my
great surprise, presented me to Mrs. Schuyler and her family. In that
house I remained during my whole stay in Albany, with a table of more
than twenty covers for me and my friends, and every other demonstration
of hospitality.”

This was indeed realizing the vaunted courtesy and magnanimity of the
age of chivalry.

The surrender of Burgoyne was soon followed by the evacuation of
Ticonderoga and Fort Independence, the garrisons retiring to the Isle
aux Noix and St. Johns. As to the armament on the Hudson, the commanders
whom Sir Henry Clinton had left in charge of it, received, in the midst
of their desolating career, the astounding intelligence of the capture
of the army with which they had come to co-operate. Nothing remained for
them, therefore, but to drop down the river and return to New York.

The whole expedition, though it had effected much damage to the
Americans, failed to be of essential service to the royal cause. The
fortresses in the Highlands could not be maintained, and had been
evacuated and destroyed, and the plundering and burning of defenceless
towns and villages, and especially the conflagration of Esopus, had
given to the whole enterprise the character of a maraud, disgraceful in
civilized warfare, and calculated only to inflame more deadly enmity and
determined opposition.

NOTE.

The reader may desire to know the sequel of Lady Harriet Ackland’s
romantic story. Her husband recovered from his wounds, and they
returned together to England. Major Ackland retained a grateful sense
of the kind treatment they had experienced from the Americans. At a
dinner party he had warm words with another British officer, who
questioned the American character for courage. A duel ensued, in which
the major was killed. The shock to Lady Harriet produced mental
derangement. She recovered in the course of a couple of years, and
ultimately was married to Mr. Brudenell, the worthy chaplain who had
been her companion and protector in the time of her distress.

CHAPTER XXIII.

WASHINGTON ADVANCES TO SKIPPACK CREEK—THE BRITISH FLEET IN THE
DELAWARE—FORTS AND OBSTRUCTIONS IN THE RIVER—WASHINGTON MEDITATES AN
ATTACK ON THE BRITISH CAMP—BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN.

Having given the catastrophe of the British invasion from the North, we
will revert to that part of the year’s campaign which was passing under
the immediate eye of Washington. We left him encamped at Pott’s Grove
towards the end of September, giving his troops a few days’ repose after
their severe fatigues. Being rejoined by Wayne and Smallwood with their
brigades, and other troops being arrived from the Jerseys, his force
amounted to about eight thousand Continentals and three thousand
militia; with these he advanced, on the 30th of September, to Skippack
Creek, about fourteen miles from Germantown, where the main body of the
British army lay encamped; a detachment under Cornwallis occupying
Philadelphia.

Immediately after the battle of Brandywine, Admiral Lord Howe with great
exertions had succeeded in getting his ships of war and transports round
from the Chesapeake into the Delaware, and had anchored them along the
western shore from Reedy Island to Newcastle. They were prevented from
approaching nearer by obstructions which the Americans had placed in the
river. The lowest of these were at Billingsport (or Bylling’s Point),
where chevaux-de-frise in the channel of the river were protected by a
strong redoubt on the Jersey shore. Higher up were Fort Mifflin on Mud
(or Fort) Island, and Fort Mercer on the Jersey shore; with
chevaux-de-frise between them. Washington had exerted himself to throw a
garrison into Fort Mifflin, and keep up the obstructions of the river.
“If these can be maintained,” said he, “General Howe’s situation will
not be the most agreeable; for if his supplies can be stopped by water,
it may easily be done by land. To do both shall be my utmost endeavor;
and I am not without hope that the acquisition of Philadelphia may,
instead of his good fortune, prove his ruin.”[90]

Sir William Howe was perfectly aware of this, and had concerted
operations with his brother by land and water, to reduce the forts and
clear away the obstructions of the river. With this view he detached a
part of his force into the Jerseys, to proceed, in the first instance,
against the fortifications at Billingsport.

Washington had been for some days anxiously on the look-out for some
opportunity to strike a blow of consequence, when two intercepted
letters gave him intelligence of this movement. He immediately
determined to make an attack upon the British camp at Germantown, while
weakened by the absence of this detachment. To understand the plan of
the attack, some description of the British place of encampment is
necessary.

Germantown, at that time, was little more than one continued street,
extending two miles north and south. The houses were mostly of stone,
low and substantial, with steep roofs and protecting eaves. They stood
apart from each other, with fruit trees in front and small gardens.
Beyond the village, and about a hundred yards east of the road, stood a
spacious stone edifice, with ornamented grounds, statues, groves and
shrubbery, the country-seat of Benjamin Chew, chief justice of
Pennsylvania previous to the Revolution: we shall have more to say
concerning this mansion presently.

Four roads approached the village from above; that is, from the north.
The Skippack, which was the main road, led over Chestnut Hil and Mount
Airy down to and through the village toward Philadelphia, forming the
street of which we have just spoken. On its right, and nearly parallel,
was the Monatawny or Ridge road, passing near the Schuylkill, and
entering the main road below the village.

On the left of the Skippack or main road, was the Limekiln road, running
nearly parallel to it for a time, and then turning towards it, almost at
right angles, so as to enter the village at the market-place. Still
further to the left or east, and outside of all, was the Old York road,
falling into the main road some distance below the village.

The main body of the British forces lay encamped across the lower part
of the village, divided into almost equal parts by the main street or
Skippack road. The right wing, commanded by General Grant, was to the
east of the road, the left wing to the west. Each wing was covered by
strong detachments, and guarded by cavalry. General Howe had his
head-quarters in the rear.

The advance of the army, composed of the 2d battalion of British
light-infantry, with a train of artillery, was more than two miles from
the main body, on the west of the road, with an outlying picket
stationed with two six-pounders at Allen’s house on Mount Airy. About
three quarters of a mile in the rear of the light-infantry, lay encamped
in a field opposite “Chew’s House,” the 40th regiment of infantry, under
Colonel Musgrave.

According to Washington’s plan for the attack, Sullivan was to command
the right wing, composed of his own division, principally Maryland
troops, and the division of General Wayne. He was to be sustained by a
_corps de reserve_, under Lord Stirling, composed of Nash’s North
Carolina and Maxwell’s Virginia brigades, and to be flanked by the
brigade of General Conway. He was to march down the Skippack road and
attack the left wing; at the same time General Armstrong, with the
Pennsylvania militia, was to pass down the Monatawny or Ridge road, and
get upon the enemy’s left and rear.

Greene with the left wing, composed of his own division and the division
of General Stephen, and flanked by McDougall’s brigade, was to march
down the Limekiln road, so as to enter the village at the market-house.
The two divisions were to attack the enemy’s right wing in front,
McDougall with his brigade to attack it in flank, while Smallwood’s
division of Maryland militia and Forman’s Jersey brigade, making a
circuit by the Old York road, were to attack it in the rear. Two thirds
of the forces were thus directed against the enemy’s right wing, under
the idea that, if it could be forced, the whole army must be pushed into
the Schuylkill, or compelled to surrender. The attack was to begin on
all quarters at daybreak.[91]

About dusk, on the 3d of October, the army left its encampment at
Matuchen Hills, by its different routes. Washington accompanied the
right wing. It had fifteen miles of weary march to make over rough
roads, so that it was after daybreak when the troops emerged from the
woods on Chestnut Hill. The morning was dark with a heavy fog. A
detachment advanced to attack the enemy’s out picket, stationed at
Allen’s House. The patrol was led by Captain Allen McLane, a brave
Maryland officer, well acquainted with the ground, and with the position
of the enemy. He fell in with double sentries, whom he killed with the
loss of one man. The alarm, however, was given; the distant roll of a
drum and the call to arms, resounded through the murky air. The picket
guard, after discharging their two six-pounders, were routed, and
retreated down the south side of Mount Airy to the battalion of
light-infantry who were forming in order of battle. As their pursuers
descended into the valley, the sun rose, but was soon obscured. Wayne
led the attack upon the light-infantry. “They broke at first,” writes
he, “without waiting to receive us, but soon formed again, when a heavy
and well-directed fire took place on both sides.”

They again gave way, but being supported by the grenadiers, returned to
the charge. Sullivan’s division and Conway’s brigade formed on the west
of the road, and joined in the attack; the rest of the troops were too
far to the north to render any assistance. The infantry, after fighting
bravely for a time, broke and ran, leaving their artillery behind. They
were hotly pursued by Wayne. His troops remembered the bloody 20th of
September, and the ruthless slaughter of their comrades. “They pushed on
with the bayonet,” says Wayne, “and took ample vengeance for that
night’s work.” The officers endeavored to restrain their fury towards
those who cried for mercy, but to little purpose. It was a terrible
melée. The fog, together with the smoke of the cannonry and musketry,
made it almost as dark as night: our people mistaking one another for
the enemy, frequently exchanged shots before they discovered their
error. The whole of the enemy’s advance were driven from their camping
ground, leaving their tents standing, with all their baggage. Colonel
Musgrave, with six companies of the 40th regiment, threw himself into
Chew’s House, barricaded the doors and lower windows, and took post
above stairs; the main torrent of the retreat passed by pursued by Wayne
into the village.

As the residue of this division of the army came up to join in the
pursuit, Musgrave and his men opened a fire of musketry upon them from
the upper windows of his citadel. This brought them to a halt. Some of
the officers were for pushing on; but General Knox stoutly objected,
insisting on the old military maxim, never to leave a garrisoned castle
in the rear.

His objection unluckily prevailed. A flag was sent with a summons to
surrender. A young Virginian, Lieutenant Smith, volunteered to be the
bearer. As he was advancing, he was fired upon and received a mortal
wound. The house was now cannonaded, but the artillery was too light to
have the desired effect. An attempt was made to set fire to the
basement. He who attempted it was shot dead from a grated cellar window.
Half an hour was thus spent in vain; scarce any of the defenders of the
house were injured, though many of the assailants were slain. At length
a regiment was left to keep guard upon the mansion and hold its garrison
in check, and the rear division again pressed forward.

This half hour’s delay, however, of nearly one half of the army,
disconcerted the action. The divisions and brigades thus separated from
each other by the skirmishing attack upon Chew’s House, could not be
reunited. The fog and smoke rendered all objects indistinct at thirty
yards’ distance; the different parts of the army knew nothing of the
position or movements of each other, and the commander-in-chief could
take no view nor gain any information of the situation of the whole. The
original plan of attack was only effectively carried into operation in
the centre. The flanks and rear of the enemy were nearly unmolested;
still the action, though disconnected, irregular and partial, was
animated in various quarters. Sullivan, being reinforced by Nash’s North
Carolina troops and Conway’s brigade, pushed on a mile beyond Chew’s
House, where the left wing of the enemy gave way before him.

Greene and Stephen, with their divisions, having had to make a circuit,
were late in coming into action, and became separated from each other,
part of Stephen’s division being arrested by a heavy fire from Chew’s
House and pausing to return it: Greene, however, with his division,
comprising the brigades of Muhlenberg and Scott, pressed rapidly
forward, drove an advance regiment of light-infantry before him, took a
number of prisoners, and made his way quite to the market-house in the
centre of the village, where he encountered the right wing of the
British drawn up to receive him. The impetuosity of his attack had an
evident effect upon the enemy, who began to waver. Forman and Smallwood,
with the Jersey and Maryland militia, were just showing themselves on
the right flank of the enemy, and our troops seemed on the point of
carrying the whole encampment. At this moment a singular panic seized
our army. Various causes are assigned for it. Sullivan alleges that his
troops had expended all their cartridges, and were alarmed by seeing the
enemy gathering on their left, and by the cry of a light-horseman, that
the enemy were getting round them. Wayne’s division, which had pushed
the enemy nearly three miles, was alarmed by the approach of a large
body of American troops on its left flank, which it mistook for foes,
and fell back in defiance of every effort of its officers to rally it.
In its retreat it came upon Stephen’s division and threw it into a
panic, being, in its turn, mistaken for the enemy; thus all fell into
confusion, and our army fled from their own victory.

In the mean time, the enemy, having recovered from the first effects of
the surprise, advanced in their turn. General Grey brought up the left
wing, and pressed upon the American troops as they receded. Lord
Cornwallis, with a squadron of light-horse from Philadelphia, arrived
just in time to join in the pursuit.

The retreat of the Americans was attended with less loss than might have
been expected, and they carried off all their cannon and wounded. This
was partly owing to the good generalship of Greene, in keeping up a
retreating fight with the enemy for nearly five miles; and partly to a
check given by Wayne, who turned his cannon upon the enemy from an
eminence, near White Marsh Church, and brought them to a stand. The
retreat continued through the day to Perkiomen Creek, a distance of
twenty miles.

The loss of the enemy in this action is stated by them to be seventy-one
killed, four hundred and fifteen wounded, and fourteen missing: among
the killed was Brigadier-general Agnew. The American loss was one
hundred and fifty killed, five hundred and twenty-one wounded, and about
four hundred taken prisoners. Among the killed was General Nash of North
Carolina. Among the prisoners was Colonel Mathews of Virginia, who
commanded a Virginia regiment in the left wing. Most of his officers and
men were killed or wounded in fighting bravely near the market-house,
and he himself received several bayonet wounds.

Speaking of Washington’s conduct amidst the perplexities of this
confused battle, General Sullivan writes, “I saw, with great concern,
our brave commander-in-chief exposing himself to the hottest fire of the
enemy, in such a manner, that regard for my country obliged me to ride
to him, and beg him to retire. He, to gratify me and some others,
withdrew to a small distance, but his anxiety for the fate of the day
soon brought him up again, where he remained till our troops had
retreated.”

The sudden retreat of the army gave him surprise, chagrin and
mortification. “Every account,” said he, subsequently, in a letter to
the President of Congress, “confirms the opinion I at first entertained,
that our troops retreated at the instant when victory was declaring
herself in our favor. The tumult, disorder, and even despair, which, it
seems, had taken place in the British army, were scarcely to be
paralleled; and it is said, so strongly did the ideas of a retreat
prevail, that Chester was fixed on for their rendezvous. I can discover
no other cause for not improving this happy opportunity, than the
extreme haziness of the weather.”

So also Captain Heth of Virginia, who was in the action: “What makes
this inglorious flight more grating to us is, that we know the enemy had
orders to retreat, and rendezvous at Chester; and that upwards of two
thousand Hessians had actually crossed the Schuylkill for that purpose;
that the tories were in the utmost distress, and moving out of the city;
that our friends confined in the new jail made it ring with shouts of
joy; that we passed, in pursuing them, upwards of twenty pieces of
cannon, their tents standing filled with their choicest baggage; in
fine, every thing was as we could wish, when the above flight took
place.”[92]

No one was more annoyed than Wayne. “Fortune smiled on us for full three
hours,” writes he; “the enemy were broke, dispersed, and flying in all
quarters—we were in possession of their whole encampment, together with
their artillery, park, &c. &c. A _wind-mill_ attack was made upon a
house into which six light companies had thrown themselves, to avoid our
bayonets. Our troops were deceived by this attack, thinking it something
formidable. They fell back to assist,—the enemy believing it to be a
retreat, followed,—confusion ensued, and we ran away from the arms of
victory open to receive us.”

In fact, as has justly been observed by an experienced officer, the plan
of attack was too widely extended for strict concert, and too
complicated for precise co-operation, as it had to be conducted in the
night, and with a large proportion of undisciplined militia; and yet, a
bewildering fog alone appears to have prevented its complete success.

But although the Americans were balked of the victory, which seemed
within their grasp, the impression made by the audacity of this attempt
upon Germantown, was greater, we are told, than that caused by any
single incident of the war after Lexington and Bunker’s Hill.[93]

A British military historian, a contemporary, observes: “In this action
the Americans acted upon the offensive; and though repulsed with loss,
showed themselves a formidable adversary, capable of charging with
resolution and retreating with good order. The hope, therefore,
entertained from the effect of any action with them as decisive, and
likely to put a speedy termination to the war, was exceedingly
abated.”[94]

The battle had its effect also in France. The Count De Vergennes
observed to the American commissioners in Paris on their first
interview, that nothing struck him so much as General Washington’s
attacking and giving battle to General Howe’s army; that to bring an
army raised within a year to this pass promised every thing.

The effect on the army itself may be judged from letters written at the
time by officers to their friends. “Though we gave away a complete
victory,” writes one, “we have learnt this valuable truth, that we are
able to beat them by vigorous exertion, and that we are far superior in
point of swiftness. We are in high spirits; every action gives our
troops fresh vigor, and a greater opinion of their own strength. Another
bout or two must make the situation of the enemy very disagreeable.”[95]

Another writes to his father: “For my own part, I am so fully convinced
of the justice of the cause in which we are contending, and that
Providence, in its own good time, will succeed and bless it, that, were
I to see twelve of the United States overrun by our cruel invaders, I
should still believe the thirteenth would not only save itself, but also
work out the deliverance of the others.”[96]

CHAPTER XXIV.

WASHINGTON AT WHITE MARSH—MEASURES TO CUT OFF THE ENEMY’S SUPPLIES—THE
FORTS ON THE DELAWARE REINFORCED—COLONEL GREENE OF RHODE ISLAND AT
FORT MERCER—ATTACK AND DEFENCE OF THAT FORT—DEATH OF COUNT DONOP.

Washington remained a few days at Perkiomen Creek, to give his army time
to rest, and recover from the disorder incident to a retreat. Having
been reinforced by the arrival of twelve hundred Rhode Island troops
from Peekskill, under General Varnum, and nearly a thousand Virginia,
Maryland, and Pennsylvania troops, he gradually drew nearer to
Philadelphia, and took a strong position at White Marsh, within fourteen
miles of that city. By a resolution of Congress, all persons taken
within thirty miles of any place occupied by British troops, in the act
of conveying supplies to them, were subjected to martial law. Acting
under the resolution, Washington detached large bodies of militia to
scour the roads above the city, and between the Schuylkill and Chester,
to intercept all supplies going to the enemy.

On the forts and obstructions in the river, Washington mainly counted to
complete the harassment of Philadelphia. These defences had been
materially impaired. The works at Billingsport had been attacked and
destroyed, and some of the enemy’s ships had forced their way through
the chevaux-de-frise placed there. The American frigate Delaware,
stationed in the river between the upper forts and Philadelphia, had run
aground before a British battery, and been captured.

It was now the great object of the Howes to reduce and destroy, and of
Washington to defend and maintain, the remaining forts and obstructions.
Fort Mifflin, which we have already mentioned, was erected on a low,
green, reedy island in the Delaware, a few miles below Philadelphia, and
below the mouth of the Schuylkill. It consisted of a strong redoubt,
with extensive outworks and batteries. There was but a narrow channel
between the island and the Pennsylvania shore. The main channel,
practicable for ships, was on the other side. In this were sunk strong
chevaux-de-frise, difficult either to be weighed or cut through, and
dangerous to any ships that might run against them; subjected as they
would be to the batteries of Fort Mifflin on one side, and on the other
to those of Fort Mercer, a strong work at Red Bank on the Jersey shore.

Fort Mifflin was garrisoned by troops of the Maryland line, under
Lieutenant-colonel Samuel Smith of Baltimore; and had kept up a brave
defence against batteries erected by the enemy on the Pennsylvania
shore. A reinforcement of Virginia troops made the garrison between
three and four hundred strong.

Floating batteries, galleys, and fire-ships, commanded by Commodore
Hazelwood, were stationed under the forts and about the river.

Fort Mercer had hitherto been garrisoned by militia, but Washington now
replaced them by four hundred of General Varnum’s Rhode Island
Continentals. Colonel Christopher Greene was put in command; a brave
officer who had accompanied Arnold in his rough expedition to Canada,
and fought valiantly under the walls of Quebec. “The post with which you
are intrusted,” writes Washington in his letter of instructions, “is of
the utmost importance to America. The whole defence of the Delaware
depends upon it; and consequently all the enemy’s hopes of keeping
Philadelphia, and finally succeeding in the present campaign.”

Colonel Greene was accompanied by Captain Mauduit Duplessis, who was to
have the direction of the artillery. He was a young French engineer of
great merit, who had volunteered in the American cause, and received a
commission from Congress. The chevaux-de-frise in the river had been
constructed under his superintendence.

Greene, aided by Duplessis, made all haste to put Fort Mercer in a state
of defence; but before the outworks were completed, he was surprised
(October 22) by the appearance of a large force emerging from a wood
within cannon shot of the fort. Their uniforms showed them to be
Hessians. They were, in fact, four battalions twelve hundred strong of
grenadiers, picked men, beside light-infantry and chasseurs, all
commanded by Count Donop, who had figured in the last year’s campaign.

Colonel Greene, in nowise dismayed by the superiority of the enemy,
forming in glistening array before the wood, prepared for a stout
resistance. In a little while an officer was descried, riding slowly up
with a flag, accompanied by a drummer. Greene ordered his men to keep
out of sight, that the fort might appear but slightly garrisoned.

When within proper distance, the drummer sounded a parley, and the
officer summoned the garrison to surrender; with a threat of no quarter
in case of resistance.

Greene’s reply was, that the post would be defended to the last
extremity.

The flag rode back and made report. Forthwith the Hessians were seen at
work throwing up a battery within half a mile of the outworks. It was
finished by four o’clock, and opened a heavy cannonade, under cover of
which the enemy were preparing to approach.

As the American outworks were but half finished, and were too extensive
to be manned by the garrison, it was determined by Greene and Duplessis
that the troops should make but a short stand there; to gall the enemy
in their approach, and then retire within the redoubt, which was
defended by a deep intrenchment, boarded and fraised.

Donop led on his troops in gallant style, under cover of a heavy fire
from his battery. They advanced in two columns, to attack the outworks
in two places. As they advanced, they were excessively galled by a
flanking fire from the American galleys and batteries, and by sharp
volleys from the outworks. The latter, however, as had been concerted,
were quickly abandoned by the garrison. The enemy entered at two places,
and, imagining the day their own, the two columns pushed on with shouts
to storm different parts of the redoubt. As yet, no troops were to be
seen; but as one of the columns approached the redoubt on the north
side, a tremendous discharge of grape shot and musketry burst forth from
the embrasures in front, and a half-masked battery on the left. The
slaughter was prodigious; the column was driven back in confusion. Count
Donop, with the other column, in attempting the south side of the
redoubt, had passed the abatis; some of his men had traversed the fosse;
others had clambered over the pickets, when a similar tempest of
artillery and musketry burst upon them. Some were killed on the spot,
many were wounded, and the rest were driven out. Donop himself was
wounded, and remained on the spot; Lieutenant-colonel Mingerode, the
second in command, was also dangerously wounded. Several other of the
best officers were slain or disabled. Lieutenant-colonel Linsing, the
oldest remaining officer endeavored to draw off the troops in good
order, but in vain; they retreated in confusion, hotly pursued, and were
again cut up in their retreat by the flanking fire from the galleys and
floating batteries.

The loss of the enemy in killed and wounded, in this brief but severe
action, was about four hundred men. That of the Americans, eight killed
and twenty-nine wounded.

As Captain Mauduit Duplessis was traversing the scene of slaughter after
the repulse, he was accosted by a voice from among the slain: “Whoever
you are, draw me hence.” It was the unfortunate Count Donop. Duplessis
had him conveyed to a house near the fort, where every attention was
paid to his comfort. He languished for three days, during which
Duplessis was continually at his bedside. “This is finishing a noble
career early,” said the count sadly, as he found his death
approaching,—then, as if conscious of the degrading service in which he
had fallen, hired out by his prince to aid a foreign power in quelling
the brave struggle of a people for their liberty, and contrasting it
with that in which the chivalrous youth by his bedside was engaged—“I
die,” added he bitterly, “the victim of my ambition, and of the avarice
of my sovereign.”[97] He was but thirty-seven years of age at the time
of his death.

According to the plan of the enemy, Fort Mifflin, opposite to Fort
Mercer, was to have been attacked at the same time by water. The force
employed was the Augusta of sixty-four guns; the Roebuck of forty-four,
two frigates, the Merlin sloop of eighteen guns, and a galley. They
forced their way through the lower line of chevaux-de-frise; but the
Augusta and Merlin ran aground below the second line, and every effort
to get them off proved fruitless. To divert attention from their
situation, the other vessels drew as near to Fort Mifflin as they could,
and opened a cannonade; but the obstructions in the river had so altered
the channel that they could not get within very effective distance. They
kept up a fire upon the fort throughout the evening, and recommenced it
early in the morning, as did likewise the British batteries on the
Pennsylvania shore; hoping that under cover of it the ships might be got
off. A strong adverse wind, however, kept the tide from rising
sufficiently to float them.

The Americans discovered their situation, and sent down four fire-ships
to destroy them, but without effect. A heavy fire was now opened upon
them from the galleys and floating batteries. It was warmly returned. In
the course of the action, a red-hot shot set the Augusta on fire. It was
impossible to check the flames. All haste was made with boats to save
the crew, while the other ships drew off as fast as possible to get out
of the reach of the explosion. She blew up, however, while the second
lieutenant, the chaplain, the gunner, and several of the crew were yet
on board, most of whom perished. The Merlin was now set on fire and
abandoned; the Roebuck and the other vessels dropped down the river, and
the attack on Fort Mifflin was given up.

These signal repulses of the enemy had an animating effect on the public
mind, and were promptly noticed by Congress. Colonel Greene, who
commanded at Fort Mercer, Lieutenant-colonel Smith of Maryland, who
commanded at Fort Mifflin, and Commodore Hazelwood, who commanded the
galleys, received the thanks of that body; and subsequently, a sword was
voted to each, as a testimonial of distinguished merit.

CHAPTER XXV.

DE KALB COMMISSIONED MAJOR-GENERAL—PRETENSIONS OF CONWAY—THWARTED BY
WASHINGTON—CONWAY CABAL—GATES REMISS IN CORRESPONDENCE—DILATORY IN
FORWARDING TROOPS—MISSION OF HAMILTON TO GATES—WILKINSON BEARER OF
DESPATCHES TO CONGRESS—A TARDY TRAVELLER—HIS REWARD—CONWAY
CORRESPONDENCE DETECTED—WASHINGTON’S APOLOGY FOR HIS ARMY.

We have heretofore had occasion to advert to the annoyances and
perplexities occasioned to Washington by the claims and pretensions of
foreign officers who had entered into the service. Among the officers
who came out with Lafayette, was the Baron De Kalb, a German by birth,
but who had long been employed in the French service, and though a
silver-haired veteran, sixty years of age, was yet fresh and active and
vigorous; which some attributed to his being a rigid water drinker. In
the month of September, Congress had given him the commission of
major-general, to date with that of Lafayette.

This instantly produced a remonstrance from Brigadier-general Conway,
the Gallic Hibernian, of whom we have occasionally made mention, who
considered himself slighted and forgot, in their giving a superior rank
to his own to a person who had not rendered the cause the least service,
and who had been his inferior in France. He claimed, therefore, for
himself, the rank of major-general, and was supported in his pretensions
by persons both in and out of Congress; especially by Mifflin, the
quartermaster-general.

Washington had already been disgusted by the overweening presumption of
Conway, and was surprised to hear that his application was likely to be
successful. He wrote on the 17th of October, to Richard Henry Lee, then
in Congress, warning him that such an appointment would be as
unfortunate a measure as ever was adopted—one that would give a fatal
blow to the existence of the army. “Upon so interesting a subject,”
observes he, “I must speak plainly. The duty I owe my country, the
ardent desire I have to promote its true interests, and justice to
individuals, require this of me. General Conway’s merit as an officer,
and his importance in this army, exist more in his own imagination than
in reality. For it is a maxim with him to leave no service of his own
untold, nor to want any thing which is to be obtained by
importunity. * * * * I would ask why the youngest brigadier in the
service should be put over the heads of the oldest, and thereby take
rank and command of gentlemen who but yesterday were his seniors;
gentlemen who, as I will be bound to say in behalf of some of them at
least, are of sound judgment and unquestionable bravery. * * * * * *
This truth I am well assured of, that they will not serve under him. I
leave you to guess, therefore, at the situation this army would be in at
so important a crisis, if this event should take place.”

This opposition to his presumptuous aspirations, at once threw Conway
into a faction forming under the auspices of General Mifflin. This
gentleman had recently tendered his resignation of the commission of
major-general and quartermaster-general on the plea of ill health, but
was busily engaged in intrigues against the commander-in-chief, towards
whom he had long cherished a secret hostility. Conway now joined with
him heart and hand, and soon became so active and prominent a member of
the faction that it acquired the name of _Conway’s Cabal_. The object
was to depreciate the military character of Washington, in comparison
with that of Gates, to whom was attributed the whole success of the
Northern campaign. Gates was perfectly ready for such an elevation. He
was intoxicated by his good fortune, and seemed to forget that he had
reaped where he had not sown, and that the defeat of Burgoyne had been
insured by plans concerted and put in operation before his arrival in
the Northern Department.

In fact, in the excitement of his vanity, Gates appears to have
forgotten that there was a commander-in-chief, to whom he was
accountable. He neglected to send him any despatch on the subject of the
surrender of Burgoyne, contenting himself with sending one to Congress,
then sitting at Yorktown. Washington was left to hear of the important
event by casual rumor, and was for several days in anxious uncertainty,
until he received a copy of the capitulation in a letter from General
Putnam.

Gates was equally neglectful to inform him of the disposition he
intended to make of the army under his command. He delayed even to
forward Morgan’s rifle corps, though their services were no longer
needed in his camp, and were so much required in the South. It was
determined, therefore, in a council of war, that one of Washington’s
staff should be sent to Gates to represent the critical state of
affairs, and that a large reinforcement from the Northern army would, in
all probability, reduce General Howe to the same situation with
Burgoyne, should he remain in Philadelphia, without being able to remove
the obstructions in the Delaware, and open a free communication with his
shipping.

Colonel Alexander Hamilton, his youthful but intelligent aide-de-camp,
was charged with this mission. He bore a letter from Washington to
Gates, dated October 30th, of which the following is an extract.

“By this opportunity, I do myself the pleasure to congratulate you on
the signal success of the army under your command, in compelling General
Burgoyne and his whole force to surrender themselves prisoners of war;
an event that does the highest honor to the American arms, and which, I
hope, will be attended with the most extensive and happy consequences.
At the same time, I cannot but regret that a matter of such magnitude,
and so interesting to our general operations, should have reached me by
report only; or through the channel of letters not bearing that
authenticity which the importance of it required, and which it would
have received by a line under your signature stating the simple fact.”

Such was the calm and dignified notice of an instance of official
disrespect, almost amounting to insubordination. It is doubtful whether
Gates, in his state of mental effervescence, felt the noble severity of
the rebuke.

The officer whom Gates had employed as bearer of his despatch to
Congress, was Wilkinson, his adjutant-general and devoted sycophant: a
man at once pompous and servile. He was so long on the road that the
articles of the treaty, according to his own account, reached the grand
army before he did the Congress. Even after his arrival at Yorktown he
required three days to arrange his papers, preparing to deliver them in
style. At length, eighteen days after the surrender of Burgoyne had
taken place, he formally laid the documents concerning it before
Congress, preluding them with a message in the name of Gates, but
prepared the day before by himself, and following them up by comments,
explanatory and eulogistic, of his own.

He evidently expected to produce a great effect by this rhetorical
display, and to be signally rewarded for his good tidings, but Congress
were as slow in expressing their sense of his services, as he had been
in rendering them. He swelled and chafed under this neglect, but
affected to despise it. In a letter to his patron, Gates, he observes:
“I have not been honored with any mark of distinction from Congress.
Indeed, should I receive no testimony of their approbation of my
conduct, I shall not be mortified. My hearty contempt of the world will
shield me from such pitiful sensations.”[98]

A proposal was at length made in Congress that a sword should be voted
to him as the bearer of such auspicious tidings: upon which Dr.
Witherspoon, a shrewd Scot, exclaimed, “I think ye’ll better gie the lad
_a pair of spurs_.”[99]

A few days put an end to Wilkinson’s suspense, and probably reconciled
him to the world; he was breveted a brigadier-general.

A fortuitous circumstance, which we shall explain hereafter, apprised
Washington about this time that a correspondence, derogatory to his
military character and conduct, was going on between General Conway and
General Gates. It was a parallel case with Lee’s correspondence of the
preceding year; and Washington conducted himself in it with the same
dignified forbearance, contenting himself with letting Conway know, by
the following brief note, dated November 9th, that his correspondence
was detected.

“SIR—A letter which I received last night contained the following
paragraph—‘In a letter from General Conway to General Gates, he says,
“_Heaven has determined to save your country, or a weak general and
bad counsellors would have ruined it._”’

“I am, sir, your humble servant,

“GEORGE WASHINGTON.”

The brevity of this note rendered it the more astounding. It was a
hand-grenade thrown into the midst of the cabal. The effect upon other
members we shall show hereafter: it seems, at first, to have prostrated
Conway. An epistle of his friend Mifflin to Gates intimates, that Conway
endeavored to palliate to Washington the censorious expressions in his
letter, by pleading the careless freedom of language indulged in
familiar letter writing; no other record of such explanation remains,
and that probably was not received as satisfactory. Certain it is, he
immediately sent in his resignation. To some he alleged, as an excuse
for resigning, the disparaging way in which he had been spoken of by
some members of Congress; to others he observed, that the campaign was
at an end, and there was a prospect of a French war. The real reason he
kept to himself, and Washington suffered it to remain a secret. His
resignation, however, was not accepted by Congress; on the contrary, he
was supported by the cabal, and was advanced to further honors, which we
shall specify hereafter.

In the mean time, the cabal went on to make invidious comparisons
between the achievements of the two armies, deeply derogatory to that
under Washington. Publicly, he took no notice of them; but they drew
from him the following apology for his army, in a noble and
characteristic letter to his friend, the celebrated Patrick Henry, then
governor of Virginia. “The design of this,” writes he, “is only to
inform you, and with great truth I can do it, strange as it may seem,
that the army which I have had under my immediate command, has not, at
any one time, since General Howe’s landing at the Head of Elk, been
equal in point of numbers to his. In ascertaining this, I do not confine
myself to Continental troops, but comprehend militia. The disaffected
and lukewarm in this State, in whom unhappily it too much abounds,
taking advantage of the distraction in the government, prevented those
vigorous exertions, which an invaded State ought to have
yielded. * * * * * I was left to fight two battles, in order, if
possible, to save Philadelphia, with less numbers than composed the army
of my antagonist, whilst the world has given us at least double. This
impression, though mortifying in some points of view, I have been
obliged to encourage; because, next to being strong, it is best to be
thought so by the enemy; and to this cause, principally, I think is to
be attributed the slow movements of General Howe.

“How different the case in the Northern Department! There the States of
New York and New England, resolving to crush Burgoyne, continued pouring
in their troops, till the surrender of that army; at which time not less
than fourteen thousand militia, as I have been informed, were actually
in General Gates’s camp, and those composed, for the most part, of the
best yeomanry in the country, well armed, and in many instances supplied
with provisions of their own carrying. Had the same spirit pervaded the
people of this and the neighboring States, we might before this time
have had General Howe nearly in the situation of General
Burgoyne. * * * * * *

“My own difficulties, in the course of the campaign, have been not a
little increased by the extra aid of Continental troops, which the
gloomy prospect of our affairs in the North immediately after the
reduction of Ticonderoga, induced me to spare from this army. But it is
to be hoped that all will yet end well. IF THE CAUSE IS ADVANCED,
INDIFFERENT IS IT TO ME WHERE OR IN WHAT QUARTER IT HAPPENS.”

We have put the last sentence in capitals, for it speaks the whole soul
of Washington. Glory with him is a secondary consideration. Let those
who win, wear the laurel—sufficient for him is the advancement of the
cause.

NOTE.

We subjoin an earnest appeal of Washington to Thomas Wharton,
President of Pennsylvania, on the 17th of October, urging him to keep
up the quota of troops demanded of the State by Congress, and to
furnish additional aid. “I assure you, sir,” writes he, “it is a
matter of astonishment to every part of the continent to hear that
Pennsylvania, the most opulent and populous of all the States, has but
twelve hundred militia in the field, at a time when the enemy are
endeavoring to make themselves completely masters of, and to fix their
quarters in, her capital.” And Major-general Armstrong, commanding the
Pennsylvania militia, writes at the same time to the Council of his
State:—“Be not deceived with wrong notions of General Washington’s
numbers; be assured he wants your aid. Let the brave step forth, their
example will animate the many. You all speak well of our
commander-in-chief at a distance; don’t you want to see him, and pay
him one generous, one martial visit, when kindly invited to his camp
near the end of a long campaign? There you will see for yourselves the
unremitting zeal and toils of all the day and half the night,
multiplied into years, without seeing house or home of his own,
without murmur or complaint; but believes and calls this arduous task
the service of his country and of his God.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

FURTHER HOSTILITIES ON THE DELAWARE—FORT MIFFLIN ATTACKED—BRAVELY
DEFENDED—REDUCED—MISSION OF HAMILTON TO GATES—VISITS THE CAMPS OF
GOVERNOR CLINTON AND PUTNAM ON THE HUDSON—PUTNAM ON HIS
HOBBY-HORSE—DIFFICULTIES IN PROCURING REINFORCEMENTS—INTRIGUES OF
THE CABAL—LETTERS OF LOVELL AND MIFFLIN TO GATES—THE WORKS AT RED
BANK DESTROYED—THE ENEMY IN POSSESSION OF THE DELAWARE.

The non-arrival of reinforcements from the Northern army continued to
embarrass Washington’s operations. The enemy were making preparations
for further attempts upon Forts Mercer and Mifflin. General Howe was
constructing redoubts and batteries on Province Island, on the west side
of the Delaware, within five hundred yards of Fort Mifflin, and mounting
them with heavy cannon. Washington consulted with his general officers
what was to be done. Had the army received the expected reinforcements
from the North, it might have detached sufficient force to the west side
of the Schuylkill to dislodge the enemy from Province Island; but at
present it would require almost the whole of the army for the purpose.
This would leave the public stores at Easton, Bethlehem and Allentown,
uncovered, as well as several of the hospitals. It would also leave the
post at Red Bank unsupported, through which Fort Mifflin was reinforced
and supplied. It was determined, therefore, to await the arrival of the
expected reinforcements from the North, before making any alteration in
the disposition of the army. In the mean time, the garrisons of Forts
Mercer and Mifflin were increased, and General Varnum was stationed at
Red Bank with his brigade, to be at hand to render reinforcements to
either of them as occasion might require.

On the 10th of November, General Howe commenced a heavy fire upon Fort
Mifflin from his batteries, which mounted eighteen, twenty-four, and
thirty-two pounders. Colonel Smith doubted the competency of his feeble
garrison to defend the works against a force so terribly effective, and
wrote to Washington accordingly. The latter in reply represented the
great importance of the works, and trusted they would be maintained to
the last extremity. General Varnum was instructed to send over fresh
troops occasionally to relieve those in the garrison, and to prevail
upon as many as possible of the militia to go over. The latter could be
employed at night upon the works to repair the damage sustained in the
day, and might, if they desired it, return to Red Bank in the morning.

Washington’s orders and instructions were faithfully obeyed. Major
Fleury, a brave French officer, already mentioned, acquitted himself
with intelligence and spirit as engineer; but an incessant cannonade and
bombardment for several days, defied all repairs. The block-houses were
demolished, the palisades beaten down, the guns dismounted, the barracks
reduced to ruins. Captain Treat, a young officer of great merit, who
commanded the artillery, was killed, as were several non-commissioned
officers and privates; and a number were wounded.

The survivors, who were not wounded, were exhausted by want of sleep,
hard duty, and constant exposure to the rain. Colonel Smith himself was
disabled by severe contusions, and obliged to retire to Red Bank.

The fort was in ruins; there was danger of its being carried by storm,
but the gallant Fleury thought it might yet be defended with the aid of
fresh troops. Such were furnished from Varnum’s brigade:
Lieutenant-colonel Russell, of the Connecticut line, replaced Colonel
Smith. He, in his turn, was obliged to relinquish the command through
fatigue and ill health, and was succeeded by Major Thayer of Rhode
Island, aided by Captain (afterwards commodore) Talbot, who had
distinguished himself in the preceding year by an attack on a
ship-of-war in the Hudson. The present was an occasion that required men
of desperate valor.

On the fourth day the enemy brought a large Indiaman, cut down to a
floating battery, to bear upon the works; but though it opened a
terrible fire, it was silenced before night. The next day several ships
of war got within gunshot. Two prepared to attack it in front; others
brought their guns to bear on Fort Mercer; while two made their way into
the narrow channel between Mud Island and the Pennsylvania shore, to
operate with the British batteries erected there.

At a concerted signal a cannonade was opened from all quarters. The
heroic little garrison stood the fire without flinching; the danger,
however, was growing imminent. The batteries on Province Island
enfiladed the works. The ships in the inner channel approached so near
as to throw hand-grenades into the fort, while marines stationed in the
round-tops stood ready to pick off any of the garrison that came in
sight.

The scene now became awful; incessant firing from ships, forts, gondolas
and floating batteries, with clouds of sulphurous smoke, and the
deafening thunder of cannon. Before night there was hardly a
fortification to defend; palisades were shivered, guns dismounted, the
whole parapet levelled. There was terrible slaughter; most of the
company of artillery were destroyed. Fleury himself was wounded. Captain
Talbot received a wound in the wrist, but continued bravely fighting
until disabled by another wound in the hip.[100]

To hold out longer was impossible. Colonel Thayer made preparations to
evacuate the fort in the night. Every thing was removed in the evening,
that could be conveyed away without too much exposure to the murderous
fire from the round-tops. The wounded were taken over to Red Bank
accompanied by part of the garrison. Thayer remained with forty men
until eleven o’clock, when they set fire to what was combustible of the
fort they had so nobly defended, and crossed to Red Bank by the light of
its flames.

The loss of this fort was deeply regretted by Washington, though he gave
high praise to the officers and men of the garrison. Colonel Smith was
voted a sword by Congress, and Fleury received the commission of
lieutenant-colonel.

Washington still hoped to keep possession of Red Bank, and thereby
prevent the enemy from weighing the chevaux-de-frise before the frost
obliged their ships to quit the river. “I am anxiously waiting the
arrival of the troops from the northward,” writes he, “who ought, from
the time they have had my orders, to have been here before this. Colonel
Hamilton, one of my aides, is up the North River, doing all he can to
push them forward, but he writes me word, that he finds many
unaccountable delays thrown in his way. The want of these troops has
embarrassed all my measures exceedingly.”

The delays in question will best be explained by a few particulars
concerning the mission of Colonel Hamilton. On his way to the
head-quarters of Gates, at Albany, he found Governor Clinton and General
Putnam encamped on the opposite sides of the Hudson, just above the
Highlands; the governor at New Windsor, Putnam at Fishkill. About a mile
from New Windsor, Hamilton met Morgan and his riflemen, early in the
morning of the 2d of November, on the march for Washington’s camp,
having been thus tardily detached by Gates. Hamilton urged him to hasten
on with all possible despatch, which he promised to do. The colonel had
expected to find matters in such a train, that he would have little to
do but hurry on ample reinforcements already on the march; whereas, he
found that a large part of the Northern army was to remain in and about
Albany, about four thousand men to be spared to the commander-in-chief;
the rest were to be stationed on the east side of the Hudson with
Putnam, who had held a council of war how to dispose of them. The old
general, in fact, had for some time past been haunted by a project of an
attack upon New York, in which he had twice been thwarted, and for which
the time seemed propitious, now that most of the British troops were
reported to have gone from New York to reinforce General Howe. Hamilton
rather disconcerted his project by directing him, in Washington’s name,
to hurry forward two Continental brigades to the latter, together with
Warner’s militia brigade; also, to order to Red Bank a body of Jersey
militia about to cross to Peekskill.

Having given these directions, Hamilton hastened on to Albany. He found
still less disposition on the part of Gates to furnish the troops
required. There was no certainty, he said, that Sir Henry Clinton had
gone to join General Howe. There was a possibility of his returning up
the river, which would expose the arsenal at Albany to destruction,
should that city be left bare of troops. The New England States, too,
would be left open to the ravages and depredations of the enemy; beside,
it would put it out of his power to attempt any thing against
Ticonderoga, an undertaking of great importance, in which he might
engage in the winter. In a word, Gates had schemes of his own, to which
those of the commander-in-chief must give way.

Hamilton felt, he says, how embarrassing a task it was for one so young
as himself to oppose the opinions and plans of a veteran, whose
successes had elevated him to the highest importance; though he
considered his reasonings unsubstantial, and merely calculated to “catch
the Eastern people.” It was with the greatest difficulty he prevailed on
Gates to detach the brigades of Poor and Patterson to the aid of the
commander-in-chief; and, finding reinforcements fall thus short from
this quarter, he wrote to Putnam to forward an additional thousand of
Continental troops from his camp. “I doubt,” writes he subsequently to
Washington, “whether you would have had a man from the Northern army, if
the whole could have been kept at Albany with any decency.”

Having concluded his mission to General Gates, Hamilton returned to the
camp of Governor Clinton. The worthy governor seemed the general officer
best disposed in this quarter to promote the public weal, independent of
personal considerations. He had recently expressed his opinion to
General Gates, that the army under Washington ought at present to be the
chief object of attention, “for on its success every thing worth
regarding depended.”

The only need of troops in this quarter at present, was to protect the
country from little plundering parties, and to carry on the works
necessary for the defence of the river. The latter was the governor’s
main thought. He was eager to reconstruct the fortresses out of which he
had been so forcibly ejected; or rather to construct new ones in a
better place, about West Point, where obstructions were again to be
extended across the river.[101]

Putnam, on the contrary, wished to keep as much force as possible under
his control. The old general was once more astride of what Hamilton
termed his “hobby-horse,” an expedition against New York. He had
neglected to forward the troops which had been ordered to the South: not
the least attention had been paid by him to Hamilton’s order from
Albany, in Washington’s name, for the detachment of an additional
thousand of troops. Some, which had come down from Albany, had been
marched by him to Tarrytown: he himself had reconnoitred the country
almost down to King’s Bridge, and was now advanced to the neighborhood
of White Plains. “Every thing,” writes Hamilton, “is sacrificed to the
whim of taking New York.” The young colonel was perplexed how to proceed
with the brave-hearted, but somewhat wrong-headed old general; who was
in as bellicose a mood, now that he was mounted on his hobby, as when at
the siege of Boston he mounted the prize mortar “Congress,” and prayed
for gunpowder.

Hamilton, in his perplexity, consulted Governor Clinton. The latter
agreed with him that an attempt against New York would be a mere
“suicidal parade,” wasting time and men. The city at present was no
object, even if it could be taken, and to take it would require men that
could ill be spared from more substantial purposes. The governor,
however, understood the character and humors of his old coadjutor, and
in his downright way; advised Hamilton to send an order in the most
emphatical terms to General Putnam, to despatch all the Continental
troops under him to Washington’s assistance, and to detain the militia
instead of them.

A little of the governor’s own hobby, by the way, showed itself in his
councils. “He thinks,” writes Hamilton, “that there is no need of more
Continental troops here than a few, to give a spur to the militia in
working upon the fortifications.”

The “emphatical” letter of Hamilton had the effect the governor
intended. It unhorsed the belligerent veteran when in full career. The
project against New York was again given up, and the reinforcements
reluctantly ordered to the South. “I am sorry to say,” writes Hamilton,
“the disposition for marching in the officers, and men in general, of
these troops, does not keep pace with my wishes, or the exigency of the
occasion. They have unfortunately imbibed an idea that they have done
their part of the business of the campaign, and are now entitled to
repose. This, and the want of pay, make them adverse to a long march at
this advanced season.”

Governor Clinton borrowed six thousand dollars for Hamilton, to enable
him to put some of the troops in motion; indeed, writes the colonel, he
has been the only man who has done any thing to remove these
difficulties. Hamilton advised that the command of the post should be
given to the governor, if he would accept of it, and Putnam should be
recalled; “whose blunders and caprices,” said he, “are endless.”

Washington, however, knew too well the innate worth and sterling
patriotism of the old general, to adopt a measure that might deeply
mortify him. The enterprise, too, on which the veteran had been bent,
was one which he himself had approved of when suggested under other
circumstances. He contented himself, therefore, with giving him a
reprimand in the course of a letter, for his present dilatoriness in
obeying the orders of his commander-in-chief. “I cannot but say,” writes
he, “there has been more delay in the march of the troops than I think
necessary; and I could wish, that in future my orders may be immediately
complied with, without arguing upon the propriety of them. If any
accident ensues from obeying them, the fault will be upon me, not upon
you.”

Washington found it more necessary than usual, at this moment, to assert
his superior command, from the attempts which were being made to weaken
his stand in the public estimation. Still he was not aware of the extent
of the intrigues that were in progress around him, in which we believe
honest Putnam had no share. There was evidently a similar game going on
with that which had displaced the worthy Schuyler. The surrender of
Burgoyne, though mainly the result of Washington’s far-seeing plans, had
suddenly trumped up Gates into a quasi rival. A letter written to Gates
at the time, and still existing among his papers, lays open the spirit
of the cabal. It is without signature, but in the handwriting of James
Lovell, member of Congress from Massachusetts; the same who had
supported Gates in opposition to Schuyler. The following are extracts:
“You have saved our Northern Hemisphere; and in spite of consummate and
repeated blundering, you have changed the condition of the Southern
campaign, on the part of the enemy, from offensive to defensive. * * *
The campaign here must soon close; if our troops are obliged to retire
to Lancaster, Reading, Bethlehem, &c. for winter-quarters, and the
country below is laid open to the enemy’s flying parties, great and very
general will be the murmur—so great, so general, that nothing inferior
to a commander-in-chief will be able to resist the mighty torrent of
public clamor and public vengeance.

“We have had a noble army melted down by ill-judged marches—marches that
disgrace the authors and directors, and which have occasioned the
severest and most just sarcasm and contempt of our enemies.

“How much are you to be envied, my dear general! How different your
conduct and your fortune!

“A letter from Colonel Mifflin, received at the writing of the last
paragraph, gives me the disagreeable intelligence of the loss of our
fort on the Delaware. You must know the consequences—loss of the river
boats, galleys, ships of war, &c.; good winter-quarters to the enemy,
and a general retreat, or ill-judged, blind attempt on our part to save
a gone character.

“Conway, Spotswood, Conner, Ross, and Mifflin resigned, and many other
brave and good officers are preparing their letters to Congress on the
same subject. In short, this army will be totally lost, unless you come
down and collect the virtuous band who wish to fight under your banner,
and with their aid save the Southern Hemisphere. Prepare yourself for a
jaunt to this place—Congress must send for you.”[102]

Under such baleful supervision, of which, as we have observed, he was
partly conscious, but not to its full extent, Washington was obliged to
carry on a losing game, in which the very elements seemed to conspire
against him.

In the mean time, Sir William Howe was following up the reduction of
Fort Mifflin by an expedition against Fort Mercer, which still impeded
the navigation of the Delaware. On the 17th of November, Lord Cornwallis
was detached with two thousand men to cross from Chester into the
Jerseys, where he would be joined by a force advancing from New York.

Apprised of this movement, Washington detached General Huntington, with
a brigade, to join Varnum at Red Bank. General Greene was also ordered
to repair thither with his division, and an express was sent off to
General Glover, who was on his way through the Jerseys with his brigade,
directing him to file off to the left towards the same point. These
troops, with such militia as could be collected, Washington hoped would
be sufficient to save the fort. Before they could form a junction,
however, and reach their destination, Cornwallis appeared before it. A
defence against such superior force was hopeless. The works were
abandoned; they were taken possession of by the enemy, who proceeded to
destroy them. After the destruction had been accomplished, the
reinforcements from the North, so long and so anxiously expected, and so
shamefully delayed, made their appearance. “Had they arrived but ten
days sooner,” writes Washington to his brother, “it would, I think, have
put it in my power to save Fort Mifflin, which defended the
chevaux-de-frise, and consequently have rendered Philadelphia a very
ineligible situation for the enemy this winter.”

The troops arrived in ragged plight, owing to the derangement of the
commissariat. A part of Morgan’s rifle corps was absolutely unable to
take the field for want of shoes, and such was the prevalent want in
this particular, that ten dollars reward was offered in general orders
for a model of the best substitute for shoes that could be made out of
raw hides.

The evil which Washington had so anxiously striven to prevent had now
been effected. The American vessels stationed in the river had lost all
protection. Some of the galleys escaped past the batteries of
Philadelphia in a fog, and took refuge in the upper part of the
Delaware; the rest were set on fire by their crews and abandoned.

The enemy were now in possession of the river, but it was too late in
the season to clear away the obstructions, and open a passage for the
large ships. All that could be effected at present, was to open a
sufficient channel for transports and vessels of easy burden, to bring
provisions and supplies for the army.

Washington advised the navy board, now that the enemy had the command of
the river, to have all the American frigates scuttled and sunk
immediately. The board objected to sinking them, but said they should be
ballasted and plugged, ready to be sunk in case of attack. Washington
warned them that an attack would be sudden, so as to get possession of
them before they could be sunk or destroyed;—his advice and warning were
unheeded; the consequence will hereafter be shown.

CHAPTER XXVII.

QUESTION OF AN ATTACK ON PHILADELPHIA—GENERAL REED AT
HEAD-QUARTERS—ENEMY’S WORKS RECONNOITRED—OPINIONS IN A COUNCIL OF
WAR—EXPLOIT OF LAFAYETTE—RECEIVES COMMAND OF A DIVISION—MODIFICATION
OF THE BOARD OF WAR—GATES TO PRESIDE—LETTER OF LOVELL—SALLY
FORTH OF GENERAL HOWE—EVOLUTIONS AND SKIRMISHES—CONWAY
INSPECTOR-GENERAL—CONSULTATION ABOUT WINTER-QUARTERS—DREARY MARCH TO
VALLEY FORGE—HUTTING—WASHINGTON’S VINDICATORY LETTERS—RETROSPECT OF
THE YEAR.

On the evening of the 24th of November Washington reconnoitred,
carefully and thoughtfully, the lines and defences about Philadelphia,
from the opposite side of the Schuylkill. His army was now considerably
reinforced; the garrison was weakened by the absence of a large body of
troops under Lord Cornwallis in the Jerseys. Some of the general
officers thought this an advantageous moment for an attack upon the
city. Such was the opinion of Lord Stirling; and especially of General
Wayne, Mad Anthony, as he was familiarly called, always eager for some
daring enterprise. The recent victory at Saratoga had dazzled the public
mind, and produced a general impatience for something equally striking
and effective in this quarter. Reed, Washington’s former secretary, now
a brigadier-general, shared largely in this feeling. He had written a
letter to Gates, congratulating him on having “reduced his proud and
insolent enemy to the necessity of laying his arms at his feet;”
assuring him that it would “enroll his name with the happy few who shine
in history, not as conquerors, but as distinguished generals. I have for
some time,” adds he, “volunteered with this army, which, notwithstanding
the labors and efforts of its amiable chief, has yet gathered no
laurels.”[103]

Reed was actually at head-quarters as a volunteer, again enjoying much
of Washington’s confidence, and anxious that he should do something to
meet the public wishes. Washington was aware of this prevalent feeling,
and that it was much wrought on by the intrigues of designing men, and
by the sarcasms of the press. He was now reconnnoitring the enemy’s
works to judge of the policy of the proposed attack. “A vigorous
exertion is under consideration,” writes Reed; “God grant it may be
successful!”[104]

Every thing in the neighborhood of the enemy’s lines bore traces of the
desolating hand of war. Several houses, owned probably by noted
patriots, had been demolished; others burnt. Villas stood roofless;
their doors and windows, and all the woodwork, had been carried off to
make huts for the soldiery. Nothing but bare walls remained. Gardens had
been trampled down and destroyed; not a fence nor fruit-tree was to be
seen. The gathering gloom of a November evening heightened the sadness
of this desolation.

With an anxious eye Washington scrutinized the enemy’s works. They
appeared to be exceeding strong. A chain of redoubts extended along the
most commanding ground from the Schuylkill to the Delaware. They were
framed, planked, and of great thickness, and were surrounded by a deep
ditch, enclosed and fraised. The intervals were filled with an abatis,
in constructing which all the apple trees of the neighborhood, beside
forest trees, had been sacrificed.[105]

The idea of Lord Stirling and those in favor of an attack, was, that it
should be at different points at daylight; the main body to attack the
lines to the north of the city, while Greene, embarking his men in boats
at Dunk’s Ferry, and passing down the Delaware, and Potter, with a body
of Continentals and militia, moving down the west side of the
Schuylkill, should attack the eastern and western fronts.

Washington saw that there was an opportunity for a brilliant blow, that
might satisfy the impatience of the public, and silence the sarcasms of
the press; but he saw that it must be struck at the expense of a fearful
loss of life.

Returning to camp, he held a council of war of his principal officers,
in which the matter was debated at great length and with some warmth;
but without coming to a decision. At breaking up, Washington requested
that each member of the council would give his opinion the next morning
in writing, and he sent off a messenger in the night for the written
opinion of General Greene.

Only four members of the council, Stirling, Wayne, Scott and Woodford,
were in favor of an attack; of which Lord Stirling drew up the plan.
Eleven (including Greene) were against it, objecting, among other
things, that the enemy’s lines were too strong and too well supported,
and their force too numerous, well disciplined and experienced, to be
assailed without great loss and the hazard of a failure.

Had Washington been actuated by mere personal ambition and a passion for
military fame, or had he yielded to the goadings of faction and the
press, he might have disregarded the loss and hazarded the failure; but
his patriotism was superior to his ambition; he shrank from a glory that
must be achieved at such a cost, and the idea of an attack was
abandoned.

General Reed, in a letter to Thomas Wharton, president of Pennsylvania,
endeavors to prevent the cavilling of that functionary and his
co-legislators; who, though they had rendered very slender assistance in
the campaign, were extremely urgent for some striking achievement. “From
my own feelings,” writes he, “I can easily judge of yours and the
gentlemen round, at the seeming inactivity of this army for so long a
time. I know it is peculiarly irksome to the general, whose own judgment
led to more vigorous measures; but there has been so great a majority of
his officers opposed to every enterprising plan, as fully justifies his
conduct.” At the same time Reed confesses that he himself concurs with
the great majority, who deemed an attack upon Philadelphia too
hazardous.

A letter from General Greene received about this time, gave Washington
some gratifying intelligence about his youthful friend, the Marquis de
Lafayette. Though not quite recovered from the wound received at the
battle of Brandywine, he had accompanied General Greene as a volunteer
in his expedition into the Jerseys, and had been indulged by him with an
opportunity of gratifying his belligerent humor, in a brush with
Cornwallis’s outposts. “The marquis,” writes Greene, “with about four
hundred militia and the rifle corps, attacked the enemy’s picket last
evening, killed about twenty, wounded many more, and took about twenty
prisoners. The marquis is charmed with the spirited behavior of the
militia and rifle corps; they drove the enemy above half a mile, and
kept the ground until dark. The enemy’s picket consisted of about three
hundred, and were reinforced during the skirmish. The marquis is
determined to be in the way of danger.”[106]

Lafayette himself, at the request of Greene, wrote an animated yet
modest account of the affair to Washington. “I wish,” observes he, “that
this little success of ours may please you, though a very trifling one,
I find it very interesting on account of the behavior of our
soldiers.”[107]

Washington had repeatedly written to Congress in favor of giving the
marquis a command equal to his nominal rank, in consideration of his
illustrious and important connections, the attachment he manifested to
the cause, and the discretion and good sense he had displayed on various
occasions. “I am convinced,” said he, “he possesses a large share of
that military ardor which generally characterizes the nobility of his
country.”

Washington availed himself of the present occasion to support his former
recommendations, by transmitting to Congress an account of Lafayette’s
youthful exploit. He received, in return, an intimation from that body,
that it was their pleasure he should appoint the marquis to the command
of a division in the Continental army. The division of General Stephen
at this time was vacant; that veteran officer, who had formerly won
honor for himself in the French war, having been dismissed for
misconduct at the battle of Germantown, the result of intemperate
habits, into which he unfortunately had fallen. Lafayette was forthwith
appointed to the command of that division.

At this juncture (November 27th), a modification took place in the Board
of War, indicative of the influence which was operating in Congress. It
was increased from three to five members: General Mifflin, Joseph
Trumbull, Richard Peters, Colonel Pickering, and last, though certainly
not least, General Gates. Mifflin’s resignation of the commission of
quartermaster-general had recently been accepted; but that of
major-general was continued to him, though without pay. General Gates
was appointed president of the board, and the President of Congress was
instructed to express to him, in communicating the intelligence, the
high sense which that body entertained of his abilities, and peculiar
fitness to discharge the duties of that important office, upon the right
execution of which the success of the American cause so eminently
depended; and to inform him it was their intention to continue his rank
as major-general, and that he might officiate at the board or in the
field, as occasion might require; furthermore, that he should repair to
Congress with all convenient despatch, to enter upon the duties of his
appointment. It was evidently the idea of the cabal that Gates was
henceforth to be the master spirit of the war. His friend Lovell,
chairman of the committee of foreign relations, writes to him on the
same day to urge him on. “We want you at different places; but we want
you most near Germantown. Good God! What a situation we are in; how
different from what might have been justly expected! You will be
astonished when you know accurately what numbers have at one time and
another been collected near Philadelphia, to wear out stockings, shoes
and breeches. Depend upon it, for every ten soldiers placed under the
command of our Fabius, five recruits will be wanted annually during the
war. The brave fellows at Fort Mifflin and Red Bank have despaired of
succor, and been obliged to quit. The naval departments have fallen into
circumstances of seeming disgrace. Come to the Board of War, if only for
a short season. * * * * If it was not for the defeat of Burgoyne, and
the strong appearances of a European war, our affairs are Fabiused into
a very disagreeable posture.”[108]

While busy faction was thus at work, both in and out of Congress, to
undermine the fame and authority of Washington, General Howe, according
to his own threat, was preparing to “drive him beyond the mountains.”

On the 4th of December, Captain Allen McLane, a vigilant officer already
mentioned, of the Maryland line, brought word to head-quarters, that an
attack was to be made that very night on the camp at White Marsh.
Washington made his dispositions to receive the meditated assault, and,
in the mean time, detached McLane with one hundred men to reconnoitre.
The latter met the van of the enemy about eleven o’clock at night, on
the Germantown Road; attacked it at the Three Mile Run, forced it to
change its line of march, and hovered about and impeded it throughout
the night. About three o’clock in the morning the alarm-gun announced
the approach of the enemy. They appeared at daybreak, and encamped on
Chestnut Hill, within three miles of Washington’s right wing.
Brigadier-general James Irvine, with six hundred of the Pennsylvania
militia, was sent out to skirmish with their light advanced parties. He
encountered them at the foot of the hill, but after a short conflict, in
which several were killed and wounded, his troops gave way and fled in
all directions, leaving him and four or five of his men wounded on the
field, who were taken prisoners.

General Howe passed the day in reconnoitring, and at night changed his
ground, and moved to a hill on the left, and within a mile of the
American line. It was his wish to have a general action; but to have it
on advantageous terms. He had scrutinized Washington’s position and
pronounced it inaccessible. For three days he manœuvred to draw him from
it, shifting his own position occasionally, but still keeping on
advantageous ground. Washington was not to be decoyed. He knew the vast
advantages which superior science, discipline and experience, gave the
enemy in open field fight, and remained within his lines. All his best
officers approved of his policy. Several sharp skirmishes occurred at
Edge Hill and elsewhere, in which Morgan’s riflemen and the Maryland
militia were concerned. There was loss on both sides, but the Americans
gave way before a great superiority of numbers.

In one of these skirmishes General Reed had a narrow escape. He was
reconnoitring the enemy at Washington’s request, when he fell in with
some of the Pennsylvania militia who had been scattered, and endeavored
to rally and lead them forward. His horse was shot through the head, and
came with him to the ground; the enemy’s flankers were running to
bayonet him, as he was recovering from his fall, when Captain Allen
McLane came up in time with his men to drive them off and rescue him. He
was conveyed from the field by a light-horseman.[109]

On the 7th there was every appearance that Howe meditated an attack on
the left wing. Washington’s heart now beat high, and he prepared for a
warm and decisive action. In the course of the day he rode through every
brigade, giving directions how the attack was to be met, and exhorting
his troops to depend mainly on the bayonet. His men were inspirited by
his words, but still more by his looks, so calm and determined; for the
soldier regards the demeanor more than the words of his general in the
hour of peril.

The day wore away with nothing but skirmishes, in which Morgan’s
riflemen, and the Maryland militia under Colonel Gist, rendered good
service. An attack was expected in the night, or early in the morning;
but no attack took place. The spirit manifested by the Americans in
their recent contests, had rendered the British commanders cautious.

The next day, in the afternoon, the enemy were again in motion; but
instead of advancing, filed off to the left, halted, and lit up a long
string of fires on the heights; behind which they retreated, silently
and precipitately, in the night. By the time Washington received
intelligence of their movement, they were in full march by two or three
routes for Philadelphia. He immediately detached light parties to fall
upon their rear, but they were too far on the way for any but
light-horse to overtake them.

An intelligent observer writes to President Wharton from the camp: “As
all their movements, added to their repeated declarations of driving
General Washington over the Blue Mountains, were calculated to assure us
of their having come out with the determination to fight, it was thought
prudent to keep our post upon the hills, near the church. I understand
it was resolved if they did not begin the attack soon, to have fought
them at all events, it not being supposed that they could, consistent
with their own feelings, have secretly stolen into the city so suddenly
after so long gasconading on what they intended to do.”[110]

Here then was another occasion of which the enemies of Washington
availed themselves to deride his cautious policy. Yet it was clearly
dictated by true wisdom. His heart yearned for a general encounter with
the enemy. In his despatch to the President of Congress, he writes, “I
sincerely wish that they had made an attack; as the issue, in all
probability, from the disposition of our troops and the strong situation
of our camp, would have been fortunate and happy. At the same time I
must add, that reason, prudence, and every principle of policy forbade
us from quitting our post to attack them. Nothing but success would have
justified the measure; and this could not be expected from their
position.”

At this time, one of the earliest measures recommended by the Board of
War, and adopted by Congress, showed the increasing influence of the
cabal; two inspectors-general were to be appointed for the promotion of
discipline and reformation of abuses in the army; and one of the persons
chosen for this important office was Conway, with the rank, too, of
major-general! This was tacitly in defiance of the opinion so fully
expressed by Washington of the demerits of the man, and the ruinous
effects to be apprehended from his promotion over the heads of
brigadiers of superior claims. Conway, however, was the secret colleague
of Gates, and Gates was now the rising sun.

Winter had now set in with all its severity. The troops, worn down by
long and hard service, had need of repose. Poorly clad, also, and almost
destitute of blankets, they required a warmer shelter than mere tents
against the inclemencies of the season. The nearest towns which would
afford winter-quarters, were Lancaster, York and Carlisle; but should
the army retire to either of these, a large and fertile district would
be exposed to be foraged by the foe, and its inhabitants, perhaps, to be
dragooned into submission.

Much anxiety was felt by the Pennsylvania Legislature on the subject,
who were desirous that the army should remain in the field. General
Reed, in a letter to the president of that body, writes: “A line of
winter-quarters has been proposed and supported by some of his
[Washington’s] principal officers; but I believe I may assure you he
will not come into it, but take post as near the enemy, and cover as
much of the country as the nakedness and wretched condition of some part
of the army will admit. To keep the field entirely is impracticable, and
so you would think if you saw the plight we were in. You will soon know
the plan, and as it has been adopted principally upon the opinions of
the gentlemen of this State, I hope it will give satisfaction to you and
the gentlemen around you. If it is not doing what we would, it is doing
what we can; and I must say the general has shown a truly feeling and
patriotic respect for us on this occasion, in which you would agree with
me, if you knew all the circumstances.”

The plan adopted by Washington, after holding a council of war, and
weighing the discordant opinions of his officers, was to hut the army
for the winter at Valley Forge, in Chester County, on the west side of
the Schuylkill, about twenty miles from Philadelphia. Here he would be
able to keep a vigilant eye on that city, and at the same time protect a
great extent of country.

Sad and dreary was the march to Valley Forge; uncheered by the
recollection of any recent triumph, as was the march to winter-quarters
in the preceding year. Hungry and cold were the poor fellows who had so
long been keeping the field; for provisions were scant, clothing worn
out, and so badly off were they for shoes, that the footsteps of many
might be tracked in blood. Yet at this very time we are told, “hogsheads
of shoes, stockings and clothing, were lying at different places on the
roads and in the woods, perishing for want of teams, or of money to pay
the teamsters.”[111]

Such were the consequences of the derangement of the commissariat.

Arrived at Valley Forge on the 17th, the troops had still to brave the
wintry weather in their tents, until they could cut down trees and
construct huts for their accommodation. Those who were on the sick list
had to seek temporary shelter wherever it could be found, among the
farmers of the neighborhood. According to the regulations in the orderly
book, each hut was to be fourteen feet by sixteen; with walls of logs
filled in with clay, six feet and a half high; the fireplaces were of
logs plastered; and logs split into rude planks or slabs furnished the
roofing. A hut was allotted to twelve non-commissioned officers and
soldiers. A general officer had a hut to himself. The same was allowed
to the staff of each brigade and regiment, and the field officer of each
regiment; and a hut to the commissioned officers of each company. The
huts of the soldiery fronted on streets. Those of the officers formed a
line in the rear, and the encampment gradually assumed the look of a
rude military village.

Scarce had the troops been two days employed in these labors when,
before daybreak on the 22d, word was brought that a body of the enemy
had made a sortie toward Chester apparently on a foraging expedition.
Washington issued orders to General Huntington and Varnum, to hold their
troops in readiness to march against them. Their replies bespeak the
forlorn state of the army. “Fighting will be far preferable to
starving,” writes Huntington. “My brigade are out of provisions, nor can
the commissary obtain any meat. I have used every argument my
imagination can invent to make the soldiers easy, but I despair of being
able to do it much longer.”

“It’s a very pleasing circumstance to the division under my command,”
writes Varnum, “that there is a probability of their marching; three
days successively we have been destitute of bread. Two days we have been
entirely without meat. The men must be supplied, or they cannot be
commanded.”

In fact, a dangerous mutiny had broken out among the famishing troops in
the preceding night, which their officers had had great difficulty in
quelling.

Washington instantly wrote to the President of Congress on the subject.
“I do not know from what cause this alarming deficiency, or rather total
failure of supplies arises; but unless more vigorous exertions and
better regulations take place in that line (the commissaries’
department) immediately, the army must dissolve. I have done all in my
power by remonstrating, by writing, by ordering the commissaries on this
head, from time to time; but without any good effect, or obtaining more
than a present scanty relief. Owing to this, the march of the army has
been delayed on more than one interesting occasion, in the course of the
present campaign; and had a body of the enemy crossed the Schuykill this
morning, as I had reason to expect, the divisions which I ordered to be
in readiness to march and meet them could not have moved.”

Scarce had Washington despatched this letter, when he learnt that the
Legislature of Pennsylvania had addressed a remonstrance to Congress
against his going into winter-quarters, instead of keeping in the open
field. This letter, received in his forlorn situation, surrounded by an
unhoused, scantily clad, half-starved army, shivering in the midst of
December’s snow and cold, put an end to his forbearance, and drew from
him another letter to the President of Congress, dated on the 23d, which
we shall largely quote; not only for its manly and truthful eloquence,
but for the exposition it gives of the difficulties of his situation,
mainly caused by unwise and intermeddling legislation.

And first as to the commissariat:—

“Though I have been tender, heretofore,” writes he, “of giving any
opinion, or lodging complaints, as the change in that department took
place contrary to my judgment, and the consequences thereof were
predicted; yet, finding that the inactivity of the army, whether for
want of provisions, clothes, or other essentials, is charged to my
account, not only by the common vulgar, but by those in power, it is
time to speak plain in exculpation of myself. With truth, then, I can
declare, that no man, in my opinion, ever had his measures more impeded
than I have by every department of the army.

“Since the month of July, we have had no assistance from the
quartermaster-general; and to want of assistance from this department,
the commissary-general charges great part of his deficiency. To this I
am to add, that notwithstanding it is a standing order, and often
repeated, that the troops shall always have two days’ provisions by
them, that they might be ready at any sudden call; yet an opportunity
has scarcely ever offered of taking an advantage of the enemy, that it
has not been either totally obstructed, or greatly impeded on this
account. * * * As a proof of the little benefit received from a
clothier-general, and as a further proof of the inability of an army,
under the circumstances of this, to perform the common duties of
soldiers (besides a number of men confined to hospitals for want of
shoes, and others in farmers’ houses on the same account), we have, by a
field return this day made, no less than two thousand eight hundred and
ninety-eight men now in camp unfit for duty, because they are barefoot,
and otherwise naked. By the same return, it appears that our whole
strength in Continental troops, including the eastern brigades, which
have joined us since the surrender of General Burgoyne, exclusive of the
Maryland troops sent to Wilmington, amounts to no more than eight
thousand two hundred in camp fit for duty; notwithstanding which, and
that since the 4th instant, our numbers fit for duty, from the hardships
and exposures they have undergone, particularly on account of blankets
(numbers having been obliged, and still are, to sit up all night by
fires, instead of taking comfortable rest in a natural and common way),
have decreased near two thousand men.

“We find gentlemen, without knowing whether the army was really going
into winter-quarters or not (for I am sure no resolution of mine could
warrant the remonstrance), reprobating the measure as much as if they
thought the soldiers were made of stocks or stones, and equally
insensible of frost and snow; and moreover, as if they conceived it
easily practicable for an inferior army, under the disadvantages I have
described ours to be—which are by no means exaggerated—to confine a
superior one, in all respects well appointed and provided for a winter’s
campaign, within the city of Philadelphia, and to cover from depredation
and waste the States of Pennsylvania and Jersey. But what makes this
matter still more extraordinary in my eye, is, that these very
gentlemen, who were well apprised of the nakedness of the troops from
ocular demonstration, who thought their own soldiers worse clad than
others, and who advised me near a month ago to postpone the execution of
a plan I was about to adopt, in consequence of a resolve of Congress for
seizing clothes, under strong assurances that an ample supply would be
collected in ten days, agreeably to a decree of the State (not one
article of which, by the by, is yet come to hand), should think a
winter’s campaign, and the covering of those States from the invasion of
an enemy, so easy and practicable a business. I can assure those
gentlemen, that it is a much easier, and less distressing thing, to draw
remonstrances in a comfortable room by a good fireside, than to occupy a
cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or
blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the
naked and distressed soldiers, I feel abundantly for them, and, from my
soul, I pity those miseries, which it is neither in my power to relieve
nor prevent.

“It is for these reasons, therefore, that I have dwelt upon the subject;
and it adds not a little to my other difficulties and distress, to find
that much more is expected from me than is possible to be performed, and
that, upon the ground of safety and policy, I am obliged to conceal the
true state of the army from public view, and thereby expose myself to
detraction and calumny.”

In the present exigency, to save his camp from desolation, and to
relieve his starving soldiery, he was compelled to exercise the
authority recently given him by Congress, to forage the country round,
seize supplies wherever he could find them, and pay for them in money or
in certificates redeemable by Congress. He exercised these powers with
great reluctance; rurally inclined himself, he had a strong sympathy
with the cultivators of the soil, and ever regarded the yeomanry with a
paternal eye. He was apprehensive, moreover, of irritating the jealousy
of military sway, prevalent throughout the country, and of corrupting
the morals of the army. “Such procedures,” writes he to the President of
Congress, “may give a momentary relief; but if repeated, will prove of
the most pernicious consequence. Beside spreading disaffection, jealousy
and fear among the people, they never fail, even in the most veteran
troops, under the most rigid and exact discipline, to raise in the
soldiery a disposition to licentiousness, to plunder and robbery,
difficult to suppress afterward, and which has proved not only ruinous
to the inhabitants, but in many instances to armies themselves. I regret
the occasion that compelled us to the measure the other day, and shall
consider it the greatest of our misfortunes if we should be under the
necessity of practising it again.”

How truly in all these trying scenes of his military career, does the
patriot rise above the soldier!

With these noble and high-spirited appeals to Congress, we close
Washington’s operations for 1777; one of the most arduous and eventful
years of his military life, and one the most trying to his character and
fortunes. He began it with an empty army chest, and a force dwindled
down to four thousand half-disciplined men. Throughout the year he had
had to contend, not merely with the enemy, but with the parsimony and
meddlesome interference of Congress. In his most critical times that
body had left him without funds and without reinforcements. It had made
promotions contrary to his advice, and contrary to military usage;
thereby wronging and disgusting some of his bravest officers. It had
changed the commissariat in the very midst of a campaign, and thereby
thrown the whole service into confusion.

Among so many cross-purposes and discouragements, it was a difficult
task for Washington to “keep the life and soul of the army together.”
Yet he had done so. Marvellous indeed was the manner in which he had
soothed the discontents of his aggrieved officers, and reconciled them
to an ill-requiting service; and still more marvellous the manner in
which he had breathed his own spirit of patience and perseverance in his
yeoman soldiery, during their sultry marchings and countermarchings
through the Jerseys, under all kinds of privations, with no visible
object of pursuit to stimulate their ardor, hunting, as it were, the
rumored apparitions of an unseen fleet.

All this time, too, while endeavoring to ascertain and counteract the
operations of Lord Howe upon the ocean, and his brother upon the land,
he was directing and aiding military measures against Burgoyne in the
North. Three games were in a manner going on under his supervision. The
operations of the commander-in-chief are not always most obvious to the
public eye; victories may be planned in his tent, of which subordinate
generals get the credit; and most of the moves which ended in giving a
triumphant check to Burgoyne, may be traced to Washington’s shifting
camp in the Jerseys.

It has been an irksome task in some of the preceding chapters, to notice
the under-current of intrigue and management by which some part of this
year’s campaign was disgraced; yet even-handed justice requires that
such machinations should be exposed. We have shown how successful they
were in displacing the noble-hearted Schuyler from the head of the
Northern department; the same machinations were now at work to undermine
the commander-in-chief, and elevate the putative hero of Saratoga on his
ruins. He was painfully aware of them; yet in no part of the war did he
more thoroughly evince that magnanimity which was his grand
characteristic, than in the last scenes of this campaign, where he rose
above the tauntings of the press, the sneerings of the cabal, the
murmurs of the public, the suggestions of some of his friends, and the
throbbing impulses of his own courageous heart, and adhered to that
Fabian policy which he considered essential to the safety of the cause.
To dare is often the impulse of selfish ambition or harebrained valor:
to forbear is at times the proof of real greatness.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

GATES IN THE ASCENDANT—THE CONWAY LETTER—SUSPICIONS—CONSEQUENT
CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN GATES AND WASHINGTON—WARNING LETTER FROM DR.
CRAIK—ANONYMOUS LETTERS—PROJECTED EXPEDITION TO CANADA—LAFAYETTE,
GATES, AND THE BOARD OF WAR.

While censure and detraction had dogged Washington throughout his
harassing campaign, and followed him to his forlorn encampment at Valley
Forge, Gates was the constant theme of popular eulogium, and was held up
by the cabal, as the only one capable of retrieving the desperate
fortunes of the South. Letters from his friends in Congress urged him to
hasten on, take his seat at the head of the Board of War, assume the
management of military affairs, and _save the country_!

Gates was not a strong-minded man. Is it a wonder, then, that his brain
should be bewildered by the fumes of incense offered up on every side?
In the midst of his triumph, however while feasting on the sweets of
adulation, came the withering handwriting on the wall! It is an epistle
from his friend Mifflin. “My dear General,” writes he, “an extract from
Conway’s letter to you has been procured and sent to head-quarters. The
extract was a collection of just sentiments, yet such as should not have
been intrusted to any of your family. General Washington enclosed it to
Conway without remarks. * * * * My dear General, take care of your
sincerity and frank disposition; they cannot injure yourself, but may
injure some of your best friends. Affectionately yours.”

Nothing could surpass the trouble and confusion of mind of Gates on the
perusal of this letter. Part of his correspondence with Conway had been
sent to head-quarters. But what part? What was the purport and extent of
the alleged extracts? How had they been obtained? Who had sent them?
Mifflin’s letter specified nothing; and this silence as to particulars,
left an unbounded field for tormenting conjecture. In fact, Mifflin knew
nothing in particular when he wrote; nor did any of the cabal. The
laconic nature of Washington’s note to Conway had thrown them all in
confusion. None knew the extent of the correspondence discovered, nor
how far they might be individually compromised.

Gates, in his perplexity, suspected that his portfolio had been
stealthily opened and his letters copied. But which of them?—and by
whom? He wrote to Conway and Mifflin, anxiously inquiring what part of
their correspondence had been thus surreptitiously obtained, and “who
was the villain that had played him this treacherous trick. There is
scarcely a man living,” says he, “who takes a greater care of his
letters than I do. I never fail to lock them up, and keep the key in my
pocket. * * * * No punishment is too severe for the wretch who betrayed
me and I doubt not your friendship for me, as well as your zeal for our
safety, will bring the name of this miscreant to light.”[112]

Gates made rigid inquiries among the gentlemen of his staff all
disavowed any knowledge of the matter. In the confusion and perturbation
of his mind, his suspicions glanced, or were turned, upon Colonel
Hamilton, as the channel of communication, he having had free access to
head-quarters during his late mission from the commander in-chief. In
this state of mental trepidation, Gates wrote, on the 8th of December,
the following letter to Washington.

“Sir:—I shall not attempt to describe what, as a private gentleman, I
cannot help feeling, on representing to my mind the disagreeable
situation in which confidential letters, when exposed to public
inspection, may place an unsuspecting correspondent; but, as a public
officer, I conjure your Excellency to give me all the assistance you can
in tracing the author of the infidelity which put extracts from General
Conway’s letters to me into your hands. Those letters have been
stealingly copied, but which of them, when, and by whom, is to me as yet
an unfathomable secret. * * * * It is, I believe, in your Excellency’s
power to do me and the United States a very important service, by
detecting a wretch who may betray me, and capitally injure the very
operations under your immediate directions. * * * The crime being
eventually so important, that the least loss of time may be attended
with the worst consequences, and it being unknown to me whether the
letter came to you from a member of Congress, or from an officer, I
shall have the honor of transmitting a copy of this to the president,
that the Congress may, in concert with your Excellency, obtain as soon
as possible a discovery which so deeply affects the safety of the
States. Crimes of that magnitude ought not to remain unpunished.” A copy
of this letter was transmitted by Gates to the President of Congress.

Washington replied with characteristic dignity and candor. “Your letter
of the 8th ultimo,” writes he (January 4th), “came to my hand a few days
ago, and, to my great surprise, informed me that a copy of it had been
sent to Congress, for what reason I find myself unable to account; but,
as some end was doubtless intended to be answered by it, I am laid under
the disagreeable necessity of returning my answer through the same
channel, lest any member of that honorable body should harbor an
unfavorable suspicion of my having practised some indirect means to come
at the contents of the confidential letters between you and General
Conway.

“I am to inform you, then, that Colonel Wilkinson, on his way to
Congress, in the month of October last, fell in with Lord Stirling at
Reading, and, not in confidence, that I ever understood, informed his
aide-de-camp, Major McWilliams, that General Conway had written this to
you: ‘Heaven has been determined to save your country, or a weak general
and bad counsellors would have ruined it.’ Lord Stirling, from motives
of friendship, transmitted the account with this remark: ‘The enclosed
was communicated by Colonel Wilkinson to Major McWilliams. Such wicked
duplicity of conduct I shall always think it my duty to detect.’”

Washington adds, that the letter written by him to Conway was merely to
show that gentleman that he was not unapprised of his intriguing
disposition. “Neither this letter,” continues he, “nor the information
which occasioned it, was ever directly or indirectly communicated by me
to a single officer in this army, out of my own family, excepting the
Marquis de Lafayette, who, having been spoken to on the subject by
General Conway, applied for and saw, under injunctions of secrecy, the
letter which contained Wilkinson’s information; so desirous was I of
concealing every matter that could, in its consequences, give the
smallest interruption to the tranquillity of this army, or afford a
gleam of hope to the enemy by dissensions therein.” * * * * “Till Lord
Stirling’s letter came to my hands, I never knew that General Conway,
whom I viewed in the light of a stranger to you, was a correspondent of
yours; much less did I suspect that I was the subject of your
confidential letters. Pardon me, then, for adding, that so far from
conceiving the safety of the States can be affected, or in the smallest
degree injured, by a discovery of this kind, or that I should be called
upon in such solemn terms to point out the author, I considered the
information as coming from yourself, and given with a view to forewarn,
and consequently to forearm me, against a secret enemy, or in other
words, a dangerous incendiary; in which character sooner or later this
country will know General Conway. But in this, as in other matters of
late, I have found myself mistaken.”

This clear and ample answer explained the enigma of the laconic note to
Conway, and showed that the betrayal of the defamatory correspondence
was due to the babbling of Wilkinson. Following the mode adopted by
Gates, Washington transmitted his reply through the hands of the
President of Congress, and thus this matter, which he had generously
kept secret, became blazoned before Congress and the world.

A few days after writing the above letter, Washington received the
following warning from his old and faithful friend, Dr. Craik, dated
from Maryland, Jan. 6th. “Notwithstanding your unwearied diligence and
the unparalleled sacrifice of domestic happiness and ease of mind which
you have made for the good of your country, yet you are not wanting in
secret enemies, who would rob you of the great and truly deserved esteem
your country has for you. Base and villainous men, through chagrin, envy
or ambition, are endeavoring to lessen you in the minds of the people,
and taking underhand methods to traduce your character. The morning I
left camp, I was informed that a strong faction was forming against you
in the new Board of War, and in the Congress. * * * * The method they
are taking is by holding General Gates up to the people, and making them
believe that you have had a number three or four times greater than the
enemy, and have done nothing; that Philadelphia was given up by your
management, and that you have had many opportunities of defeating the
enemy. It is said they dare not appear openly as your enemies; but that
the new Board of War is composed of such leading men, as will throw such
obstacles and difficulties in your way as to force you to resign.”[113]

An anonymous letter to Patrick Henry, dated from Yorktown, Jan. 12th,
says among other things, “We have only passed the Red Sea; a dreary
wilderness is still before us, and unless a Moses or a Joshua are raised
up in our behalf, we must perish before we reach the promised
land. * * * * But is our case desperate? By no means. We have wisdom,
virtue and strength enough to save us, if they could be called into
action. The Northern army has shown us what Americans are capable of
doing with a general at their head. The spirit of the Southern army is
no way inferior to the spirit of the Northern. A Gates, a Lee, or a
Conway, would in a few weeks render them an irresistible body of men.
The last of the above officers has accepted of the new office of
inspector-general of our army, in order to reform abuses; but the remedy
is only a palliative one. In one of his letters to a friend, he says, ‘a
great and good God hath decreed America to be free, or the [general] and
weak counsellors would have ruined her long ago.’”[114]

Another anonymous paper, probably by the same hand, dated January 17th,
and sent to Congress under a cover directed to the president, Mr.
Laurens, decried all the proceedings of the Southern army, declaring
that the proper method of attacking, beating and conquering the enemy,
had never as yet been adopted by the commander-in-chief; that the late
success to the Northward was owing to a change of the commanders; that
the Southern army would have been alike successful had a similar change
taken place. After dwelling on the evils and derangements prevalent in
every department, it draws the conclusion, “That the head cannot
possibly be sound, when the whole body is disordered; that the people of
America have been guilty of idolatry, by making a man their God, and the
God of heaven and earth will convince them by woful experience, that he
is only a man; that no good may be expected from the standing army until
Baal and his worshippers are banished from the camp.”[115]

Instead of laying this mischievous paper before Congress, Mr. Laurens
remitted it to Washington. He received the following reply: “I cannot
sufficiently express the obligation I feel to you for your friendship
and politeness, upon an occasion in which I am so deeply interested. I
was not unapprised that a malignant faction had been for some time
forming to my prejudice; which, conscious as I am of having ever done
all in my power to answer the important purposes of the trust reposed in
me, could not but give me some pain on a personal account. But my chief
concern arises from an apprehension of the dangerous consequences which
intestine dissensions may produce to the common cause.

“My enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me. They know the delicacy
of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the defence I
might otherwise make against their insidious attacks. They know I cannot
combat their insinuations, however injurious, without disclosing secrets
which it is of the utmost moment to conceal. But why should I expect to
be exempt from censure, the unfailing lot of an elevated station? Merit
and talents, with which I can have no pretensions of rivalship, have
ever been subject to it. My heart tells me, that it has ever been my
unremitted aim to do the best that circumstances would permit; yet I may
have been very often mistaken in my judgment of the means, and may in
many instances deserve the imputation of error.”

Gates was disposed to mark his advent to power by a striking operation.
A notable project had been concerted by him and the Board of War for a
winter irruption into Canada. An expedition was to proceed from Albany,
cross Lake Champlain on the ice, burn the British shipping at St. Johns,
and press forward to Montreal. Washington was not consulted in the
matter: the project was submitted to Congress, and sanctioned by them
without his privity.

One object of the scheme was to detach the Marquis de Lafayette from
Washington, to whom he was devotedly attached, and bring him into the
interests of the cabal. For this purpose he was to have the command of
the expedition; an appointment which it was thought would tempt his
military ambition. Conway was to be second in command, and it was
trusted that his address and superior intelligence would virtually make
him the leader.

The first notice that Washington received of the project was in a letter
from Gates, enclosing one to Lafayette, informing the latter of his
appointment, and requiring his attendance at Yorktown to receive his
instructions.

Gates, in his letter to Washington, asked his opinion and advice;
evidently as a matter of form. The latter expressed himself obliged by
the “polite request,” but observed that, as he neither knew the extent
of the objects in view, nor the means to be employed to effect them, it
was not in his power to pass any judgment upon the subject. He wished
success to the enterprise, “both as it might advance the public good and
confer personal honor on the Marquis de Lafayette, for whom he had a
very particular esteem and regard.”

The cabal, however, had overshot their mark. Lafayette, who was aware of
their intrigues, was so disgusted by the want of deference and respect
to the commander-in-chief evinced in the whole proceeding, that he would
at once have declined the appointment, had not Washington himself
advised him strongly to accept it.

He accordingly proceeded to Yorktown, where Gates already had his little
court of schemers and hangers on. Lafayette found him at table,
presiding with great hilarity, for he was social in his habits, and in
the flush of recent success. The young marquis had a cordial welcome to
his board, which in its buoyant conviviality contrasted with the sober
decencies of that of the thoughtful commander-in-chief in his dreary
encampment at Valley Forge. Gates, in his excitement, was profuse of
promises. Every thing was to be made smooth and easy for Lafayette. He
was to have at least two thousand five hundred fighting men under him.
Stark, the veteran Stark, was ready to co-operate with a body of Green
Mountain Boys. “Indeed,” cries Gates, chuckling, “General Stark will
have burnt the fleet before your arrival!”

It was near the end of the repast. The wine had circulated freely, and
toasts had been given according to the custom of the day. The marquis
thought it time to show his flag. One toast, he observed, had been
omitted, which he would now propose. Glasses were accordingly filled,
and he gave, “The commander-in-chief of the American armies.” The toast
was received without cheering.

Lafayette was faithful to the flag he had unfurled. In accepting the
command, he considered himself detached from the main army and under the
immediate orders of the commander-in-chief. He had a favorable opinion
of the military talents of Conway, but he was aware of the game he was
playing; he made a point, therefore, of having the Baron de Kalb
appointed to the expedition; whose commission being of older date than
that of Conway, would give him the precedence of that officer, and make
him second in command. This was reluctantly ceded by the cabal, who
found themselves baffled by the loyalty in friendship of the youthful
soldier.

Lafayette set out for Albany without any very sanguine expectations.
Writing to Washington from Flemington, amid the difficulties of winter
travel, he says: “I go on very slowly; sometimes drenched by rain,
sometimes covered with snow, and not entertaining many handsome thoughts
about the projected incursion into Canada. Lake Champlain is too cold
for producing the least bit of laurel; and, if I am not starved, I shall
be as proud as if I had gained three battles.”[116]

CHAPTER XXIX.

GATES UNDERTAKES TO EXPLAIN THE CONWAY CORRESPONDENCE—WASHINGTON’S
SEARCHING ANALYSIS OF THE EXPLANATION—CLOSE OF THE
CORRESPONDENCE—SPURIOUS LETTERS PUBLISHED—LAFAYETTE AND THE CANADA
EXPEDITION—HIS PERPLEXITIES—COUNSELS OF WASHINGTON.

Washington’s letter of the 4th of January, on the subject of the Conway
correspondence, had not reached General Gates until the 22d of January,
after his arrival at Yorktown. No sooner did Gates learn from its
context, that all Washington’s knowledge of that correspondence was
confined to a single paragraph of a letter, and that merely as quoted in
conversation by Wilkinson, than the whole matter appeared easily to be
explained or shuffled off. He accordingly took pen in hand, and
addressed Washington as follows, on the 23d of January: “The letter
which I had the honor to receive yesterday from your Excellency, has
relieved me from unspeakable uneasiness. I now anticipate the pleasure
it will give you when you discover that what has been conveyed to you
for an extract of General Conway’s letter to me, was not an information
which friendly motives induced a man of honor to give, that injured
virtue might be forearmed against secret enemies. The paragraph which
your Excellency has condescended to transcribe, is spurious. It was
certainly fabricated to answer the most selfish and wicked purposes.”

He then goes on to declare that the genuine letter of Conway was
perfectly harmless, containing judicious remarks upon the want of
discipline in the army, but making no mention of weak generals or bad
counsellors. “Particular actions rather than persons were blamed, but
with impartiality, and I am convinced he did not aim at lessening, in my
opinion, the merit of any person. His letter was perfectly harmless;
however, now that various reports have been circulated concerning its
contents, they ought not to be submitted to the solemn inspection of
those who stand most high in the public esteem.

“Anxiety and jealousy would arise in the breast of very respectable
officers, who, sensible of faults which inexperience, and that alone,
may have led them into, would be unnecessarily disgusted, if they
perceived a probability of such errors being recorded.

“Honor forbids it, and patriotism demands that I should return the
letter into the hands of the writer. I will do it; but, at the same
time, I declare that the paragraph conveyed to your Excellency as a
genuine part of it, was, in words as well as in substance, a wicked
forgery.

“About the beginning of December, I was informed that letter had
occasioned an explanation between your Excellency and that gentleman.
Not knowing whether the whole letter or a part of it had been stealingly
copied, but fearing malice had altered its original texture, I own, sir,
that a dread of the mischiefs which might attend the forgery, I
suspected would be made, put me some time in a most painful situation.
When I communicated to the officers in my family the intelligence which
I had received, they all entreated me to rescue their characters from
the suspicions they justly conceived themselves liable to, until the
guilty person should be known. To facilitate the discovery, I wrote to
your Excellency; but, unable to learn whether General Conway’s letter
had been transmitted to you by a member of Congress, or a gentleman in
the army, I was afraid much time would be lost in the course of the
inquiry, and that the States might receive some capital injury from the
infidelity of the person who I thought had stolen a copy of the
obnoxious letter. Was it not probable that the secrets of the army might
be obtained and betrayed through the same means to the enemy? For this
reason, sir, not doubting that Congress would most cheerfully concur
with you in tracing out the criminal, I wrote to the president, and
enclosed to him a copy of my letter to your Excellency.

“About the time I was forwarding those letters, Brigadier-general
Wilkinson returned to Albany. I informed him of the treachery which had
been committed, but I concealed from him the measures I was pursuing to
unmask the author. Wilkinson answered, he was assured it never would
come to light; and endeavored to fix my suspicions on Lieutenant-colonel
Troup,[117] who, he said, might have incautiously conversed on the
substance of General Conway’s letter with Colonel Hamilton, whom you had
sent not long before to Albany. I did not listen to this insinuation
against your aide-de-camp and mine.”

In the original draft of this letter, which we have seen among the
papers of General Gates, he adds, as a reason for not listening to the
insinuation, that he considered it even as ungenerous “But,” pursues he,
“the light your Excellency has just assisted me with, exhibiting the
many qualifications which are necessarily blended together in the head
and heart of General Wilkinson, I would not omit this fact; it will
enable your Excellency to judge whether or not he would scruple to make
such a forgery as that which he now stands charged with, and ought to be
exemplarily punished.” This, with considerable more to the same purport,
intended to make Wilkinson the scape-goat, stands cancelled in the
draft, and was omitted in the letter sent to Washington, but by some
means, fair or foul, it came to the knowledge of Wilkinson, who has
published it at length in his Memoirs, and who, it will be found,
resented the imputation thus conveyed.

General Conway, also, in a letter to Washington (dated January 27th),
informs him that the letter had been returned to him by Gates, and that
he found with great satisfaction that “the paragraph so much spoken of
did not exist in the said letter, nor any thing like it.” He had
intended, he adds, to publish the letter, but had been dissuaded by
President Laurens and two or three members of Congress, to whom he had
shown it, lest it should inform the enemy of a misunderstanding among
the American generals. He therefore depended upon the justice, candor,
and generosity of General Washington, to put a stop to the forgery.

On the 9th of February, Washington wrote Gates a long and searching
reply to his letters of the 8th, and 23d of January, analyzing them, and
showing how, in spirit and import, they contradicted each other; and how
sometimes the same letter contradicted itself. How, in the first letter,
the reality of the extracts was by implication allowed, and the only
solicitude shown was to find out the person who brought them to light;
while, in the second letter, the whole was pronounced, “in word as well
as in substance, a wicked forgery.” “It is not my intention,” observes
Washington, “to contradict this assertion, but only to intimate some
considerations which tend to induce a supposition, that, though none of
General Conway’s letters to you contained the offensive passage
mentioned, there might have been something in them too nearly related to
it, that could give such an extraordinary alarm. If this were not the
case, how easy in the first instance to have declared there was nothing
exceptionable in them, and to have produced the letters themselves in
support of it? The propriety of the objections suggested against
submitting them to inspection may very well be questioned. ‘The various
reports circulated concerning their contents,’ were perhaps so many
arguments for making them speak for themselves, to place the matter upon
the footing of certainty. Concealment in an affair which had made so
much noise, though not by _my_ means, will naturally lead men to
conjecture the worst, and it will be a subject of speculation even to
candor itself. The anxiety and jealousy you apprehend from revealing the
letter, will be very apt to be increased by suppressing it.”

We forbear to follow Washington through his stern analysis, but we
cannot omit the concluding paragraph of his strictures on the character
of Conway.

“Notwithstanding the hopeful presages you are pleased to figure to
yourself of General Conway’s firm and constant friendship to America, I
cannot persuade myself to retract the prediction concerning him, which
you so emphatically wish had not been inserted in my last. A better
acquaintance with him, than I have reason to think you have had, from
what you say, and a concurrence of circumstances, oblige me to give him
but little credit for the qualifications of his heart, of which, at
least, I beg leave to assume the privilege of being a tolerable judge.
Were it necessary, more instances than one might be adduced from his
behavior and conversation, to manifest that he is capable of all the
malignity of detraction, and all the meanness of intrigue, to gratify
the absurd resentment of disappointed vanity or to answer the purposes
of personal aggrandizement, and promote the interest of faction.”

Gates evidently quailed beneath this letter. In his reply February 19th,
he earnestly hoped that no more of that time, so precious to the public,
might be lost upon the subject of General Conway’s letter.

“Whether that gentleman,” says he, “does or does not deserve the
suspicions you express, would be entirely indifferent to me, did he not
possess an office of high rank in the army of the United States. As to
the gentleman, I have no personal connection with him, nor had I any
correspondence previous to his writing the letter which has given
offence, nor have I since written to him, save to certify what I know to
be the contents of that letter. He, therefore, must be responsible; as I
heartily dislike controversy, even upon my own account, and much more in
a matter wherein I was only accidentally concerned,” &c. &c.

The following was the dignified but freezing note with which Washington
closed this correspondence.

“Valley Forge, 24th Feb. 1778.

“SIR:—I yesterday received your favor of the 19th instant. I am as
averse to controversy as any man; and, had I not been forced into it,
you never would have had occasion to impute to me even the shadow of a
disposition towards it. Your repeatedly and solemnly disclaiming any
offensive views in those matters which have been the subject of our
past correspondence, makes me willing to close with the desire you
express of burying them hereafter in silence, and, as far as future
events will permit, oblivion. My temper leads me to peace and harmony
with all men; and it is peculiarly my wish to avoid any personal feuds
or dissensions with those who are embarked in the same great national
interest with myself, as every difference of this kind must, in its
consequences, be very injurious. I am, sir,” &c.

Among the various insidious artifices resorted to about this time to
injure the character of Washington, and destroy public confidence in his
sincerity, was the publication of a series of letters purporting to be
from him to some members of his family, and to his agent, Mr. Lund
Washington, which, if genuine, would prove him to be hollow-hearted and
faithless to the cause he was pretending to uphold. They had appeared in
England in a pamphlet form, as if printed from originals and drafts
found in possession of a black servant of Washington, who had been left
behind ill, at Fort Lee, when it was evacuated. They had recently been
reprinted at New York in Rivington’s Royal Gazette; the first letter
making its appearance on the 14th of February. It had also been printed
at New York in a handbill, and extracts published in a Philadelphia
paper.

Washington took no public notice of this publication at the time, but in
private correspondence with his friends, he observes: “These letters are
written with a great deal of art. The intermixture of so many family
circumstances (which, by the by, want foundation in truth) gives an air
of plausibility, which renders the villainy greater; as the whole is a
contrivance to answer the most diabolical purposes. Who the author of
them is, I know not. From information or acquaintance he must have had
some knowledge of the component parts of my family; but he has most
egregiously mistaken facts in several instances. The design of his
labors is as clear as the sun in its meridian brightness.”[118] And in
another letter, he observes, “They were written to show that I was an
enemy to independence, and with a view to create distrust and jealousy.
It is no easy matter to decide whether the villainy or the artifice of
these letters is greatest.”[119]

The author of these letters was never discovered. He entirely failed in
his object; the letters were known at once to be forgeries.[120]

Letters received at this juncture from Lafayette, gave Washington
tidings concerning the expedition against Canada, set on foot without
consulting him. General Conway had arrived at Albany three days before
the marquis, and his first word when they met was that the expedition
was quite impossible. Generals Schuyler, Lincoln and Arnold, had written
to Conway to that effect. The marquis at first was inclined to hope the
contrary, but his hope was soon demolished. Instead of the two thousand
five hundred men that had been promised him, not twelve hundred in all
were to be found fit for duty, and most part of these were “naked even
for a summer’s campaign;” all shrank from a winter incursion into so
cold a country. As to General Stark and his legion of Green Mountain
Boys, who, according to the gasconade of Gates, might have burnt the
fleet before Lafayette’s arrival, the marquis received at Albany a
letter from the veteran, “who wishes to know,” says he, “_what number of
men, for what time, and for what rendezvous, I desire him to raise_.”

Another officer, who was to have enlisted men, would have done so, _had
he received money_. “One asks what encouragement his people will have;
the other has no clothes; not one of them has received a dollar of what
was due to them. I have applied to every body, I have begged at every
door I could, these two days, and I see that I could do something were
the expedition to be begun in five weeks. But you know we have not an
hour to lose; and, indeed, it is now rather too late had we every thing
in readiness.”

The poor marquis was in despair—but what most distressed him was the
dread of ridicule. He had written to his friends that he had the command
of the expedition; it would be known throughout Europe. “I am afraid,”
says he, “that it will reflect on my reputation, and I shall be laughed
at. My fears upon that subject are so strong, that I would choose to
become again only a volunteer, unless Congress offers the means of
mending this ugly business by some glorious operation.”

A subsequent letter is in the same vein. The poor marquis, in his
perplexity, lays his whole heart open to Washington with childlike
simplicity. “I have written lately to you my distressing, ridiculous,
foolish, and indeed nameless situation. I am sent, with a great noise,
at the head of an army for doing great things; the whole continent,
France and Europe herself, and, what is worse, the British army, are in
great expectations. How far they will be deceived, how far we shall be
ridiculed, you may judge by the candid account you have got of the state
of our affairs.—I confess, my dear general, that I find myself of very
quick feelings whenever my reputation and glory are concerned in any
thing. It is very hard that such a part of my happiness, without which I
cannot live, should depend upon schemes which I never knew of but when
there was no time to put them in execution. I assure you, my most dear
and respected friend, that I am more unhappy than I ever was. * * * * I
should be very happy if you were here, to give me some advice; but I
have nobody to consult with.”

Washington, with his considerate, paternal counsels, hastened to calm
the perturbation of his youthful friend, and dispel those fears
respecting his reputation, excited only, as he observed, “by an uncommon
degree of sensibility.” “It will be no disadvantage to you to have it
known in Europe,” writes he, “that you have received so manifest a proof
of the good opinion and confidence of Congress as an important detached
command. * * * * * However sensibly your ardor for glory may make you
feel this disappointment, you may be assured that your character stands
as fair as ever it did, and that no new enterprise is necessary to wipe
off this imaginary stain.”

The project of an irruption into Canada was at length formally suspended
by a resolve of Congress; and Washington was directed to recall the
marquis and the Baron de Kalb, the presence of the latter being deemed
absolutely necessary to the army at Valley Forge. Lafayette at the same
time received assurance of the high sense entertained by Congress of his
prudence, activity and zeal, and that nothing was wanting on his part to
give the expedition the utmost possible effect.

Gladly the young marquis hastened back to Valley Forge, to enjoy the
companionship and find himself once more under the paternal eye of
Washington; leaving Conway for the time in command at Albany, “where
there would be nothing, perhaps, to be attended to but some disputes of
Indians and tories.”

Washington, in a letter to General Armstrong, writes, “I shall say no
more of the Canada expedition than that it is at an end. I never was
made acquainted with a single circumstance relating to it.”[121]

CHAPTER XXX.

MORE TROUBLE ABOUT THE CONWAY LETTER—CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LORD
STIRLING AND WILKINSON—WILKINSON’S HONOR WOUNDED—HIS PASSAGE AT
ARMS WITH GENERAL GATES—HIS SEAT AT THE BOARD OF WAR
UNCOMFORTABLE—DETERMINES THAT LORD STIRLING SHALL BLEED—HIS
WOUNDED HONOR HEALED—HIS INTERVIEW WITH WASHINGTON—SEES THE
CORRESPONDENCE OF GATES—DENOUNCES GATES AND GIVES UP THE
SECRETARYSHIP—IS THROWN OUT OF EMPLOY—CLOSING REMARKS ON THE
CONWAY CABAL.

The Conway letter was destined to be a further source of trouble to the
cabal. Lord Stirling, in whose presence, at Reading, Wilkinson had cited
the letter, and who had sent information of it to Washington, was now
told that Wilkinson, on being questioned by General Conway, had declared
that no such words as those reported, nor any to the same effect, were
in the letter.

His lordship immediately wrote to Wilkinson, reminding him of the
conversation at Reading, and telling him of what he had recently heard.

“I well know,” writes his lordship, “that it is impossible you could
have made any such declaration; but it will give great satisfaction to
many of your friends to know whether Conway made such inquiry, and what
was your answer; they would also be glad to know what were the words of
the letter, and I should be very much obliged to you for a copy of it.”

Wilkinson found that his tongue had again brought him into difficulty;
but he trusted to his rhetoric, rather than his logic, to get him out of
it. He wrote in reply, that he perfectly remembered spending a social
day with his lordship at Reading, in which the conversation became
general, unreserved and copious; though the tenor of his lordship’s
discourse, and the nature of their situation, made it confidential. “I
cannot, therefore,” adds he, logically, “recapitulate particulars, or
charge my memory with the circumstances you mention; but, my lord, I
disdain low craft, subtlety and evasion, and will acknowledge it is
possible, in the warmth of social intercourse, when the mind is relaxed
and the heart is unguarded, that observations may have elapsed which
have not since occurred to me. On my late arrival in camp,
Brigadier-general Conway informed me that he had been charged by General
Washington with writing a letter to Major-general Gates, which reflected
on the general and the army. The particulars of this charge, which
Brigadier-general Conway then repeated, I cannot now recollect. I had
read the letter alluded to; I did not consider the information conveyed
in his Excellency’s letter, as expressed by Brigadier-general Conway, to
be literal, and well remember replying to that effect in dubious terms.
I had no inducement to stain my veracity, were I ever so prone to that
infamous vice, as Brigadier Conway informed me he had justified the
charge.

“I can scarce credit my senses, when I read the paragraph in which you
request an extract from a private letter, which had fallen under my
observation. _I have been indiscreet, my lord, but be assured I will not
be dishonorable._”

This communication of Lord Stirling, Wilkinson gives as the first
intimation he had received of his being implicated in the disclosure of
Conway’s letter. When he was subsequently on his way to Yorktown to
enter upon his duties as secretary of the Board of War, he learnt at
Lancaster that General Gates had denounced him as the betrayer of that
letter, and had spoken of him in the grossest language.

“I was shocked by this information,” writes he; “I had sacrificed my
lineal rank at General Gates’s request; I had served him with zeal and
fidelity, of which he possessed the strongest evidence; yet he had
condemned me unheard for an act of which I was perfectly innocent, and
against which every feeling of my soul revolted with horror. * * * * I
worshipped honor as the jewel of my soul, and did not pause for the
course to be pursued; but I owed it to disparity of years and rank, to
former connection and the affections of my own breast, to drain the cup
of conciliation and seek an explanation.”

The result of these, and other considerations, expressed with that
grandiloquence on which Wilkinson evidently prided himself, was a letter
to Gates, reminding him of the zeal and devotion with which he had
uniformly asserted and maintained his cause; “but, sir,” adds he, “in
spite of every consideration, you have wounded my honor, and must make
acknowledgment or satisfaction for the injury.”

“In consideration of our past connection, I descend to that explanation
with you which I should have denied any other man. The enclosed letters
unmask the villain and evince my innocence. My lord shall bleed for his
conduct, but it is proper I first see you.”

The letters enclosed were those between him and Lord Stirling, the
exposition of which he alleges ought to acquit him of sinister
intention, and stamp the report of his lordship to General Washington
with palpable falsehood.

Gates writes briefly in reply. “Sir,—The following extract of a letter
from General Washington to me will show you how your honor has been
called in question; which is all the explanation necessary upon that
matter; any other satisfaction you may command.”

Then followed the extracts giving the information communicated by
Wilkinson to Major McWilliams, Lord Stirling’s aide-de-camp.

“After reading the whole of the above extract,” adds Gates, “I am
astonished, if you really gave Major McWilliams such information, how
you could intimate to me that it was _possible_ Colonel Troup _had
conversed_ with Colonel Hamilton upon the subject of General Conway’s
letter.”

According to Wilkinson’s story he now proceeded to Yorktown, purposely
arriving in the twilight, to escape observation. There he met with an
old comrade, Captain Stoddart, recounted to him his wrongs, and
requested him to be the bearer of a message to General Gates. Stoddart
refused; and warned him that he was running headlong to destruction:
“but ruin,” observes Wilkinson, “had no terrors for an ardent young man,
who prized his honor a thousand fold more than his life, and who was
willing to hazard his eternal happiness in its defence.”

He accidentally met with another military friend, Lieutenant-colonel
Ball, of the Virginia line, “whose spirit was as independent as his
fortune.” He willingly became bearer of the following note from
Wilkinson to General Gates:

“Sir,—I have discharged my duty to you, and to my conscience; meet me
to-morrow morning behind the English church, and I will there stipulate
the satisfaction which you have promised to grant,” &c.

Colonel Ball was received with complaisance by the general. The meeting
was fixed for eight o’clock in the morning, with pistols.

At the appointed time Wilkinson and his second, having put their arms in
order, were about to sally forth, when Captain Stoddart made his
appearance, and informed Wilkinson that Gates desired to speak with him.
Where?—In the street near the door.—“The surprise robbed me of
circumspection,” continues Wilkinson. “I requested Colonel Ball to halt,
and followed Captain Stoddart. I found General Gates unarmed and alone,
and was received with tenderness but manifest embarrassment; he asked me
to walk, turned into a back street, and we proceeded in silence till we
passed the buildings, when he burst into tears, took me by the hand, and
asked me ‘how I could think he wished to injure me?’ I was too deeply
affected to speak, and he relieved my embarrassment by continuing: ‘_I_
injure you! it is impossible. I should as soon think of injuring my own
child.’ This language,” observes Wilkinson, “not only disarmed me, but
awakened all my confidence and all my tenderness. I was silent; and he
added, ‘Besides, there was no cause for injuring you, as Conway
acknowledged his letter, and has since said much harder things to
Washington’s face.’

“Such language left me nothing to require,” continues Wilkinson. “It was
satisfactory beyond expectation, and rendered me more than content. I
was flattered and pleased; and if a third person had doubted the
sincerity of the explanation, I would have insulted him.”

A change soon came over the spirit of this maudlin scene. Wilkinson
attended as secretary at the War Office. “My reception from the
president, General Gates,” writes he, “did not correspond with his
recent professions; he was civil, but barely so, and I was at a loss to
account for his coldness, yet had no suspicion of his insincerity.”

Wilkinson soon found his situation at the Board of War uncomfortable;
and after the lapse of a few days set out for Valley Forge. On his way
thither he met Washington’s old friend, Dr. Craik, and learnt from him
that his promotion to the rank of brigadier-general by brevet, had been
remonstrated against to Congress by forty-seven colonels. He therefore
sent in his resignation, not wishing, he said, to hold it, unless he
could wear it to the honor and advantage of his country; “and this
conduct,” adds he, “however repugnant to fashionable ambition, I find
consistent with those principles in which I early drew my sword in the
present contest.”

At Lancaster, Wilkinson, recollecting his resolve that Lord Stirling
“should bleed for his conduct,” requested his friend, Colonel Moylan, to
deliver a “peremptory message” to his lordship. The colonel considered
the measure rather precipitate, and suggested that a suitable
acknowledgment from his lordship would be a more satisfactory reparation
of the wrong than a sacrifice of the life of either of the parties.
“There is not in the whole range of my friends, acquaintance, and I
might add, in the universe,” exclaims Wilkinson, “a man of more
sublimated sentiment, or who combined with sound discretion a more
punctilious sense of honor, than Colonel Moylan.” Taking the colonel’s
advice, therefore, he moderated his peremptory message to the following
note: “My Lord,—The propriety or impropriety of your communicating to
his excellency any circumstance which passed at your lordship’s board at
Reading, I leave to be determined by your own feelings and the judgment
of the public; but as the affair has eventually induced reflections on
my integrity, the sacred duty I owe my honor obliges me to request from
your lordship’s hand, that the conversation which you have published
_passed in a private company during a convivial hour_.”

His lordship accordingly gave it under his hand, that the words passed
under such circumstances, but under no injunction of secrecy. Whereupon
Wilkinson’s irritable but easily pacified honor was appeased, and his
sword slept in its sheath.

At Valley Forge Wilkinson had an interview with Washington, in which the
subject of General Conway’s letter was discussed, and the whole
correspondence between Gates and the commander-in-chief laid before him.

“This exposition,” writes Wilkinson, “unfolded to me a scene of perfidy
and duplicity of which I had no suspicion.” It drew from him the
following letter to Washington, dated March 28th. “I beg you to receive
the grateful homage of a sensible mind for your condescension in
exposing to me General Gates’s letters, which unmask his artifices and
efforts to ruin me. The authenticity of the information received through
Lord Stirling I cannot confirm, as I solemnly assure your Excellency I
do not remember the conversation which passed on that occasion, nor can
I recollect particular passages of that letter, as I had but a cursory
view of it at a late hour. However, I so well remember its general
tenor, that, although General Gates has pledged his word it was a wicked
and malicious forgery, I will stake my reputation, if the genuine letter
is produced, that words to the same effect will appear.”

A few days afterwards, Wilkinson addressed the following letter to the
President of Congress.

“SIR,—While I make my acknowledgments to Congress, for the appointment
of secretary to the Board of War and Ordnance, I am sorry I should be
constrained to resign that office; but, after the acts of _treachery_
and _falsehood_ in which I have detected Major-general Gates, the
president of that board, it is impossible for me to reconcile it to my
honor to serve with him.”[122]

After recording this letter in his Memoirs, Wilkinson adds: “I had
previously resigned my brevet of brigadier-general, on grounds of
patriotism; but I still retained my commission of colonel, which was
never to my knowledge revoked; yet the dominant influence of General
Gates, and the feuds, and factions, and intrigues which prevailed in
Congress and in the army of that day, threw me out of employ.”—There we
shall leave him; it was a kind of retirement which we apprehend he had
richly merited, and we doubt whether his country would have been the
loser had he been left to enjoy it for the remainder of his days.

Throughout all the intrigues and manœuvres of the cabal, a part of which
we have laid before the reader, Washington had conducted himself with
calmness and self-command, speaking on the subject to no one but a very
few of his friends; lest a knowledge of those internal dissensions
should injure the service.

In a letter to Patrick Henry he gives his closing observations
concerning them. “I cannot precisely mark the extent of their views; but
it appeared in general, that General Gates was to be exalted on the ruin
of my reputation and influence. This I am authorized to say, from
undeniable facts in my own possession, from publications, the evident
scope of which could not be mistaken, and from private detractions
industriously circulated. General Mifflin, it is commonly supposed, bore
the second part in the cabal; and General Conway, I know, was a very
active and malignant partisan; but I have good reason to believe that
their machinations have recoiled most sensibly upon themselves.”

An able and truthful historian, to whose researches we are indebted for
most of the documents concerning the cabal, gives it as his opinion that
there is not sufficient evidence to prove any concerted plan of action
or any fixed design among the leaders: a few aspiring men like Gates and
Mifflin, might have flattered themselves with indefinite hopes, and
looked forward to a change as promising the best means of aiding their
ambitious views; but that it was not probable they had united in any
clear or fixed purpose.[123]

These observations are made with that author’s usual candor and
judgment; yet, wanting as the intrigues of the cabal might be in plan or
fixed design, they were fraught with mischief to the public service,
inspiring doubts of its commanders and seeking to provoke them to
desperate enterprises. They harassed Washington in the latter part of
his campaign; contributed to the dark cloud that hung over his gloomy
encampment at Valley Forge, and might have effected his downfall, had he
been more irascible in his temper, more at the mercy of impulse, and
less firmly fixed in the affections of the people. As it was, they only
tended to show wherein lay his surest strength. Jealous rivals he might
have in the army, bitter enemies in Congress, but the soldiers loved
him, and the large heart of the nation always beat true to him.

NOTE.

The following anecdote of the late Governor Jay, one of our purest and
most illustrious statesmen, is furnished to us by his son Judge Jay:—

“Shortly before the death of John Adams, I was sitting alone with my
father, conversing about the American Revolution. Suddenly he
remarked, ‘Ah, William! the history of that Revolution will never be
known. Nobody now alive knows it but John Adams and myself.’ Surprised
at such a declaration, I asked him to what he referred? He briefly
replied, ‘The proceedings of the old Congress.’ Again I inquired,
‘What proceedings?’ He answered, ‘Those against Washington; from first
to last there was a most bitter party against him.’” As the old
Congress always sat with closed doors, the public knew no more of what
passed within than what it was deemed expedient to disclose.

CHAPTER XXXI.

COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENT—REFORMS IN THE ARMY—SCARCITY IN THE CAMP—THE
ENEMY REVEL IN PHILADELPHIA—ATTEMPT TO SURPRISE LIGHT-HORSE
HARRY—HIS GALLANT DEFENCE—PRAISED BY WASHINGTON—PROMOTED—LETTER FROM
GENERAL LEE—BURGOYNE RETURNS TO ENGLAND—MRS. WASHINGTON AT VALLEY
FORGE—BRYAN FAIRFAX VISITS THE CAMP—ARRIVAL OF THE BARON STEUBEN—HIS
CHARACTER—DISCIPLINES THE ARMY—GREENE MADE QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL.

During the winter’s encampment in Valley Forge, Washington sedulously
applied himself to the formation of a new system for the army. At his
earnest solicitation Congress appointed a committee of five, called the
Committee of Arrangement, to repair to the camp and assist him in the
task.[124] Before their arrival he had collected the written opinions
and suggestions of his officers on the subject, and from these, and his
own observations and experience, had prepared a document exhibiting the
actual state of the army, the defects of previous systems, and the
alterations and reforms that were necessary. The committee remained
three months with him in camp, and then made a report to Congress
founded on his statement. The reforms therein recommended were generally
adopted. On one point, however, there was much debate. Washington had
urged that the pay of the officers was insufficient for their decent
subsistence, especially during the actual depreciation of the currency;
and that many resignations were the consequence. He recommended not only
that their pay should be increased, but that there should be a provision
for their future support, by half pay and a pensionary establishment; so
as to secure them from being absolutely impoverished in the service of
their country.

This last recommendation had to encounter a great jealousy of the army
on the part of Congress, and all that Washington could effect by
strenuous and unremitted exertions, was a kind of compromise, according
to which officers were to receive half pay for seven years after the
war, and non-commissioned officers and privates eighty dollars each.

The reforms adopted were slow in going into operation. In the mean time,
the distresses of the army continued to increase. The surrounding
country for a great distance was exhausted, and had the appearance of
having been pillaged. In some places where the inhabitants had
provisions and cattle they denied it, intending to take them to
Philadelphia, where they could obtain greater prices. The undisturbed
communication with the city had corrupted the minds of the people in its
vicinage. “This State is sick even unto the death,” said Gouverneur
Morris.

The parties sent out to forage too often returned empty-handed. “For
some days past there has been little less than a famine in the camp,”
writes Washington, on one occasion. “A part of the army has been a week
without any kind of flesh, and the rest three or four days. Naked and
starving as they are, we cannot enough admire the incomparable patience
and fidelity of the soldiery, that they have not been, ere this, excited
by their suffering to a general mutiny and desertion.”

The committee, in their report, declared that the want of straw had cost
the lives of many of the troops. “Unprovided with this, or materials to
raise them from the cold and wet earth, sickness and mortality have
spread through their quarters in an astonishing degree. Nothing can
equal their sufferings, except the patience and fortitude with which the
faithful part of the army endure them.” A British historian cites as a
proof of the great ascendency of Washington over his “raw and
undisciplined troops,” that so many remained with him throughout the
winter, in this wretched situation and still more wretched plight;
almost naked, often on short allowance, with great sickness and
mortality, and a scarcity of medicines, their horses perishing by
hundreds from hunger and the severity of the season.

He gives a striking picture of the indolence and luxury which reigned at
the same time in the British army in Philadelphia. It is true, the
investment of the city by the Americans rendered provisions dear and
fuel scanty; but the consequent privations were felt by the inhabitants,
not by their invaders. The latter revelled as if in a conquered place.
Private houses were occupied without rendering compensation; the
officers were quartered on the principal inhabitants, many of whom were
of the Society of “Friends;” some even transgressed so far against
propriety as to introduce their mistresses into the quarters thus
oppressively obtained. The quiet habits of the city were outraged by the
dissolute habits of a camp. Gaming prevailed to a shameless degree. A
foreign officer kept a faro bank, at which he made a fortune, and some
of the young officers ruined themselves.

“During the whole of this long winter of riot and dissipation,”
continues the same writer, “Washington was suffered to remain
undisturbed at Valley Forge, with an army not exceeding five thousand
effective men; and his cannon frozen up and immovable. A nocturnal
attack might have forced him to a disadvantageous action or compelled
him to a disastrous retreat, leaving behind him his sick, cannon,
ammunition and heavy baggage. It might have opened the way for supplies
to the city, and shaken off the lethargy of the British army. In a
word,” adds he, “had General Howe led on his troops to action, victory
was in his power and conquest in his train.”[125]

Without assenting to the probability of such a result, it is certain
that the army for a part of the winter, while it held Philadelphia in
siege, was in as perilous a situation as that which kept a bold front
before Boston, without ammunition to serve its cannon.

On one occasion there was a flurry at the most advanced post, where
Captain Henry Lee (Light-horse Harry) with a few of his troops was
stationed. He had made himself formidable to the enemy by harassing
their foraging parties. An attempt was made to surprise him. A party of
about two hundred dragoons, taking a circuitous route in the night, came
upon him by daybreak. He had but a few men with him at the time, and
took post in a large storehouse. His scanty force did not allow a
soldier for each window. The dragoons attempted to force their way into
the house. There was a warm contest. The dragoons were bravely repulsed,
and sheered off, leaving two killed and four wounded. “So well directed
was the opposition,” writes Lee to Washington, “that we drove them from
the stables, and saved every horse. We have got the arms, some cloaks,
&c., of their wounded. The enterprise was certainly daring, though the
issue of it very ignominious. I had not a soldier for each window.”

Washington, whose heart evidently warmed more and more to this young
Virginian officer, the son of his “lowland beauty,” not content with
noticing his exploit in general orders, wrote a note to him on the
subject, expressed with unusual familiarity and warmth. “My dear Lee,”
writes he, “although I have given you my thanks in the general orders of
this day, for the late instance of your gallant behavior, I cannot
resist the inclination I feel to repeat them again in this manner. I
needed no fresh proof of your merit to bear you in remembrance. I waited
only for the proper time and season to show it; those I hope are not far
off. * * * Offer my sincere thanks to the whole of your gallant party,
and assure them, that no one felt pleasure more sensibly, or rejoiced
more sincerely for your and their escape, than your affectionate,” &c.

In effect, Washington not long afterwards strongly recommended Lee for
the command of two troops of horse, with the rank of major, to act as an
independent partisan corps. “His genius,” observes he, “particularly
adapts him to a command of this nature; and it will be the most
agreeable to him of any station in which he could be placed.”

It was a high gratification to Washington when Congress made this
appointment; accompanying it with encomiums on Lee as a brave and
prudent officer, who had rendered essential service to the country, and
acquired distinguished honor to himself and the corps he commanded.

About the time that Washington was gladdened by the gallantry and good
fortune of “Light-horse Harry,” he received a letter from another Lee,
the captive general, still in the hands of the enemy. It had been
written nearly a month previously. “I have the strongest reason to
flatter myself,” writes Lee, “that you will interest yourself in
whatever interests my comfort and welfare. I think it my duty to inform
you that my situation is much bettered. It is now five days that I am on
my parole. I have the full liberty of the city and its limits; have
horses at my command furnished by Sir Henry Clinton and General
Robertson; am lodged with two of the oldest and warmest friends I have
in the world, Colonel Butler and Colonel Disney of the forty-second
regiment. In short, my situation is rendered as easy, comfortable and
pleasant as possible, for a man who is in any sort a prisoner.”

Washington, in reply, expressed his satisfaction at learning that he was
released from confinement, and permitted so many indulgences. “You may
rest assured,” adds he, “that I feel myself very much interested in your
welfare, and that every exertion has been used on my part to effect your
exchange. This I have not been able to accomplish. However, from the
letters which have lately passed between Sir William Howe and myself,
upon the subject of prisoners, I am authorized to expect that you will
return in a few days to your friends on parole, as Major-general
Prescott will be sent in on the same terms for that purpose.”

Difficulties, however, still occurred; and General Lee and Colonel Ethan
Allen were doomed for a few months longer to suffer the annoyance of
hope deferred.

The embarkation of General Burgoyne and his troops from Boston, became
also a subject of difficulty and delay; it being alleged that some
stipulations of the treaty of surrender had not been complied with.
After some correspondence, and discussion, it was resolved in Congress
that the embarkation should be suspended, until a distinct and explicit
ratification of the convention should be properly notified to that body
by the court of Great Britain. Burgoyne subsequently obtained permission
for his own return to England on parole, on account of ill health.

In the month of February, Mrs. Washington rejoined the general at Valley
Forge, and took up her residence at head-quarters. The arrangements
consequent to her arrival bespeak the simplicity of style in this rude
encampment. “The general’s apartment is very small,” writes she to a
friend; “he has had a log cabin built to dine in, which has made our
quarters much more tolerable than they were at first.”

Lady Stirling, Mrs. Knox, the wife of the general, and the wives of
other of the officers were also in the camp. The reforms in the
commissariat had begun to operate. Provisions arrived in considerable
quantities; supplies, on their way to the Philadelphia market to load
the British tables, were intercepted and diverted into the hungry camp
of the patriots; magazines were formed in Valley Forge; the threatened
famine was averted; “grim-visaged war” gradually relaxed his features,
and affairs in the encampment began to assume a more cheering aspect.

In the latter part of the winter, Washington was agreeably surprised by
a visit from his old and highly esteemed friend, Bryan Fairfax. That
gentleman, although he disapproved of the measures of the British
government which had severed the colonies from the mother country, was
still firm in allegiance to his king. This had rendered his situation
uncomfortable among his former intimates, who were generally embarked in
the Revolution. He had resolved, therefore, to go to England, and remain
there until the peace. Washington, who knew his integrity and respected
his conscientiousness, received him with the warm cordiality of former
and happier days; for indeed he brought with him recollections always
dear to his heart, of Mount Vernon, and Belvoir, and Virginia life, and
the pleasant banks of the Potomac. As Mr. Fairfax intended to embark at
New York, Washington furnished him with a passport to that city. Being
arrived there, the conscience of Mr. Fairfax prevented him from taking
the oaths prescribed, which he feared might sever him from his wife and
children, and he obtained permission from the British commander to
return to them. On his way home he revisited Washington, and the
kindness he again experienced from him, so different from the harshness
with which others had treated him, drew from him a grateful letter of
acknowledgment after he had arrived in Virginia.

“There are times,” said he, “when favors conferred make a greater
impression than at others, for, though I have received many, I hope I
have not been unmindful of them; yet, that at a time your popularity was
at the highest and mine at the lowest, and when it is so common for
men’s resentments to run high against those who differ from them in
opinion, you should act with your wonted kindness towards me, has
affected me more than any favor I have received; and could not be
believed by some in New York, it being above the run of common
minds.”[126]

Washington, in reply, expressed himself gratified by the sentiments of
his letter, and confident of their sincerity. “The friendship,” added
he, “which I ever professed and felt for you, met with no diminution
from the difference in our political sentiments. I know the rectitude of
my own intentions, and believing in the sincerity of yours, lamented,
though I did not condemn, your renunciation of the creed I had adopted.
Nor do I think any person or power ought to do it, whilst your conduct
is not opposed to the general interest of the people and the measures
they are pursuing; the latter, that is our actions, depending upon
ourselves, may be controlled; while the powers of thinking, originating
in higher causes, cannot always be moulded to our wishes.”

The most important arrival in the camp was that of the Baron Steuben,
towards the latter part of February. He was a seasoned soldier from the
old battle fields of Europe; having served in the seven years’ war, been
aide-de-camp to the great Frederick, and connected with the
quartermaster-general’s department. Honors had been heaped upon him in
Germany. After leaving the Prussian army he had been grand marshal of
the court of the Prince of Hohenzollern-Hechingen, colonel in the circle
of Suabia, lieutenant-general under the Prince Margrave of Baden, and
knight of the Order of Fidelity; and he had declined liberal offers from
the King of Sardinia and the Emperor of Austria. With an income of about
three thousand dollars, chiefly arising from various appointments, he
was living pleasantly in distinguished society at the German courts, and
making occasional visits to Paris, when he was persuaded by the Count de
St. Germain, French Minister of War, and others of the French cabinet,
to come out to America, and engage in the cause they were preparing to
befriend. Their object was to secure for the American armies the
services of an officer of experience and a thorough disciplinarian.
Through their persuasions he resigned his several offices, and came out
at forty-eight years of age, a soldier of fortune, to the rude fighting
grounds of America, to aid a half-disciplined people in their struggle
for liberty. No certainty of remuneration was held out to him, but there
was an opportunity for acquiring military glory; the probability of
adequate reward should the young republic be successful; and it was
hinted that, at all events, the French court would not suffer him to be
a loser. As his means, on resigning his offices, were small,
Beaumarchais furnished funds for his immediate expenses.

The baron had brought strong letters from Dr. Franklin and Mr. Deane,
our envoys at Paris, and from the Count St. Germain. Landing in
Portsmouth in New Hampshire, Dec. 1st, he had forwarded copies of his
letters to Washington. “The object of my greatest ambition,” writes he,
“is to render your country all the service in my power, and to deserve
the title of a citizen of America by fighting for the cause of your
liberty. If the distinguished ranks in which I have served in Europe
should be an obstacle, I had rather serve under your Excellency as a
volunteer, than to be an object of discontent among such deserving
officers as have already distinguished themselves among you.”

“I would say, moreover,” adds he, “were it not for the fear of offending
your modesty, that your Excellency is the only person under whom, after
having served under the King of Prussia, I could wish to pursue an art
to which I have wholly given myself up.”

By Washington’s direction, the baron had proceeded direct to Congress.
His letters procured him a distinguished reception from the president. A
committee was appointed to confer with him. He offered his services as a
volunteer: making no condition for rank or pay, but trusting, should he
prove himself worthy and the cause be crowned with success, he would be
indemnified for the sacrifices he had made, and receive such further
compensation as he might be thought to merit.

The committee having made their report, the baron’s proffered services
were accepted with a vote of thanks for his disinterestedness, and he
was ordered to join the army at Valley Forge. That army, in its ragged
condition and squalid quarters, presented a sorry aspect to a strict
disciplinarian from Germany, accustomed to the order and appointments of
European camps; and the baron often declared, that under such
circumstances no army in Europe could be kept together for a single
month. The liberal mind of Steuben, however, made every allowance; and
Washington soon found in him a consummate soldier, free from pedantry or
pretension.

The evils arising from a want of uniformity in discipline and manœuvres
throughout the army, had long caused Washington to desire a well
organized inspectorship. He knew that the same desire was felt by
Congress. Conway had been appointed to that office, but had never
entered upon its duties. The baron appeared to be peculiarly well
qualified for such a department; Washington determined, therefore, to
set on foot a temporary institution of the kind. Accordingly he proposed
to the baron to undertake the office of inspector-general. The latter
cheerfully agreed. Two ranks of inspectors were appointed under him; the
lowest to inspect brigades, the highest to superintend several of these.
Among the inspectors was a French gentleman of the name of Ternant,
chosen not only for his intrinsic merit and abilities, but on account of
his being well versed in the English as well as the French language,
which made him a necessary assistant to the baron, who, at times, needed
an interpreter. The gallant Fleury, to whom Congress had given the rank
and pay of lieutenant-colonel, and who had exercised the office of
aide-major in France, was soon after employed likewise as an
inspector.[127]

In a little while the whole army was under drill; for a great part, made
up of raw militia, scarcely knew the manual exercise. Many of the
officers, too, knew little of manœuvring, and the best of them had much
to learn. The baron furnished his sub-inspectors with written
instructions relative to their several functions. He took a company of
soldiers under his immediate training, and after he had sufficiently
schooled it, made it a model for the others, exhibiting the manœuvres
they had to practise.

It was a severe task at first for the aide-de-camp of the Great
Frederick to operate upon such raw materials. His ignorance of the
language, too, increased the difficulty, where manœuvres were to be
explained or rectified. He was in despair, until an officer of a New
York regiment, Captain Walker, who spoke French, stepped forward and
offered to act as interpreter. “Had I seen an angel from Heaven,” says
the baron, “I could not have been more rejoiced.” He made Walker his
aide-de-camp, and from that time, had him always at hand.

For a time, there was nothing but drills throughout the camp, then
gradually came evolutions of every kind. The officers were schooled as
well as the men. The troops, says a person who was present in the camp,
were paraded in a single line with shouldered arms; every officer in his
place. The baron passed in front, then took the musket of each soldier
in hand, to see whether it was clean and well polished, and examined
whether the men’s accoutrements were in good order.

He was sadly worried for a time with the militia; especially when any
manœuvre was to be performed. The men blundered in their exercise; the
baron blundered in his English; his French and German were of no avail;
he lost his temper, which was rather warm; swore in all three languages
at once, which made the matter worse, and at length called his aide to
his assistance; to help him curse the blockheads, as it was
pretended—but no doubt to explain the manœuvre.[128]

Still the grand marshal of the court of Hohenzollern mingled with the
veteran soldier of Frederick, and tempered his occasional bursts of
impatience; and he had a kind, generous heart, that soon made him a
favorite with the men. His discipline extended to their comforts. He
inquired into their treatment by the officers. He examined the doctor’s
reports; visited the sick; and saw that they were well lodged and
attended.

He was an example, too, of the regularity and system he exacted. One of
the most alert and indefatigable men in the camp; up at daybreak if not
before, whenever there were to be any important manœuvres, he took his
cup of coffee and smoked his pipe while his servant dressed his hair,
and by sunrise he was in the saddle, equipped at all points, with the
star of his order of knighthood glittering on his breast, and was off to
the parade, alone, if his suite were not ready to attend him.

The strong good sense of the baron was evinced in the manner in which he
adapted his tactics to the nature of the army and the situation of the
country, instead of adhering with bigotry to the systems of Europe. His
instructions were appreciated by all. The officers received them gladly
and conformed to them. The men soon became active and adroit. The army
gradually acquired a proper organization, and began to operate like a
great machine; and Washington found in the baron an intelligent,
disinterested, truthful coadjutor, well worthy of the badge he wore as a
knight of the Order of _Fidelity_.

Another great satisfaction to Washington, was the appointment by
Congress (March 3d) of Greene to the office of quartermaster-general;
still retaining his rank of major-general in the army. The confusion and
derangement of this department during the late campaign, while filled by
General Mifflin, had been a source of perpetual embarrassment. That
officer, however capable of doing his duty, was hardly ever at hand. The
line and the staff were consequently at variance; and the country was
plundered in a way sufficient to breed a civil war between the staff and
the inhabitants. Washington was often obliged to do the duties of the
office himself, until he declared to the Committee of Congress that “he
would stand quartermaster no longer.”[129] Greene undertook the office
with reluctance, and agreed to perform the military duties of it without
compensation for the space of a year. He found it in great disorder and
confusion, but, by extraordinary exertions and excellent system, so
arranged it, as to put the army in a condition to take the field and
move with rapidity the moment it should be required.[130] The favor in
which Greene stood with the commander-in-chief, was a continual cause of
mean jealousy and cavil among the intriguing and the envious, but it
arose from the abundant proofs Washington had received in times of trial
and difficulty, that he had a brave, affectionate heart, a sound head,
and an efficient arm, on all of which he could thoroughly rely.

CHAPTER XXXII.

FORTIFICATIONS OF THE HUDSON—PROJECT TO SURPRISE SIR HENRY
CLINTON—GENERAL HOWE FORAGES THE JERSEYS—SHIPS AND STORES BURNT AT
BORDENTOWN—PLANS FOR THE NEXT CAMPAIGN—GATES AND MIFFLIN UNDER
WASHINGTON’S COMMAND—DOWNFALL OF CONWAY—LORD NORTH’S CONCILIATORY
BILLS—SENT TO WASHINGTON BY GOVERNOR TRYON—RESOLVES OF
CONGRESS—LETTER OF WASHINGTON TO TRYON—REJOICING AT VALLEY FORGE—THE
MISCHIANZA.

The Highlands of the Hudson had been carefully reconnoitred in the
course of the winter by General Putnam, Governor Clinton, his brother
James, and several others, and subsequently by a committee from the New
York Legislature, to determine upon the most eligible place to be
fortified. West Point was ultimately chosen: and Putnam was urged by
Washington to have the works finished as soon as possible. The general
being called to Connecticut by his private affairs, and being involved
in an inquiry to be made into the loss of Forts Montgomery and Clinton,
Major-general McDougall was ordered to the Highlands, to take command of
the different posts in that department, and to press forward the
construction of the works, in which he was to be assisted by Kosciuszko
as engineer.

Before General McDougall’s arrival, Brigadier-general Parsons had
command at West Point. A letter of Washington to the latter suggests an
enterprise of a somewhat romantic character. It was no less than to
pounce upon Sir Henry Clinton, and carry him off prisoner from his
head-quarters in the city of New York. The general was quartered in the
Kennedy house near the Battery, and but a short distance from the
Hudson. His situation was rather lonely; most of the houses in that
quarter having been consumed in the great fire. A retired way led from
it through a back yard or garden to the river bank; where Greenwich
street extends at present. The idea of Washington was, that an
enterprising party should embark in eight or ten whale-boats at King’s
Ferry, just below the Highlands, on the first of the ebb, and early in
the evening. In six or eight hours, with change of hands, the boats
might be rowed under the shadows of the western shore, and approach New
York with muffled oars. There were no ships of war at that time on that
side of the city; all were in the East River. The officers and men to be
employed in the enterprise were to be dressed in red, and much in the
style of the British soldiery. Having captured Sir Henry, they might
return in their swift whale-boats with the flood tide, or a party of
horse might meet them at Fort Lee. “What guards may be at or near his
quarters, I cannot say with precision,” writes Washington, “and
therefore shall not add any thing on this score. But I think it one of
the most practicable, and surely it will be among the most desirable and
honorable things imaginable to take him prisoner.”

The enterprise, we believe, was never attempted. Colonel Hamilton is
said to have paralyzed it. He agreed with Washington that there could be
little doubt of its success; “but, sir,” said he, “have you examined the
consequences of it?” “In what respect?” asked the general. “Why,”
replied Hamilton “we shall rather lose than gain by removing Sir Henry
from the command of the British army, because we perfectly understand
his character; and by taking him off we only make way for some other,
perhaps an abler officer, whose character and dispositions we have to
learn.” The shrewd suggestions of his aide-de-camp had their effect on
Washington, and the project to abduct Sir Henry was abandoned.[131]

The spring opened without any material alteration in the dispositions of
the armies. Washington at one time expected an attack upon his camp; but
Sir William was deficient in the necessary enterprise; he contented
himself with sending out parties which foraged the surrounding country
for many miles, and scoured part of the Jerseys, bringing in
considerable supplies. These forays were in some instances accompanied
by wanton excesses and needless bloodshed; the more unjustifiable, as
they met with feeble resistance, especially in the Jerseys, where it was
difficult to assemble militia in sufficient force to oppose them.

Another ravaging party ascended the Delaware in flat-bottomed boats and
galleys; set fire to public storehouses in Bordentown containing
provisions and munitions of war; burnt two frigates, several privateers,
and a number of vessels of various classes, some of them laden with
military stores. Had the armed vessels been sunk according to the
earnest advice of Washington, the greater part of them might have been
saved.

A circular letter was sent by Washington on the 20th to all the general
officers in camp, requesting their opinions in writing, which of three
plans to adopt for the next campaign: to attempt the recovery of
Philadelphia; to transfer the war to the north and make an attempt on
New York; or to remain quiet in a secure and fortified camp,
disciplining and arranging the army until the enemy should begin their
operations; then to be governed by circumstances.

Just after the issue of this circular, intelligence received from
Congress showed that the ascendency of the cabal was at an end. By a
resolution of that body on the 15th, Gates was directed to resume the
command of the Northern department, and to proceed forthwith to Fishkill
for that purpose. He was invested with powers for completing the works
on the Hudson, and authorized to carry on operations against the enemy
should any favorable opportunity offer, for which purposes he might call
for the artificers and militia of New York and the Eastern States: but
he was not to undertake any expedition against New York without
previously consulting the commander-in-chief. Washington was requested
to assemble a council of major-generals to determine upon a plan of
operations, and Gates and Mifflin, by a subsequent resolution, were
ordered to attend that council. This arrangement, putting Gates under
Washington’s order, evinced the determination of Congress to sustain the
latter in his proper authority.

Washington in a reply to the President of Congress, who had informed him
of this arrangement, mentioned the circular he had just issued. “There
is not a moment to be delayed,” observed he, “in forming some general
system, and I only wait the arrival of Generals Gates and Mifflin to
summon a council for the purpose.” The next day (24th) he addressed a
letter to Gates, requesting him, should he not find it inconvenient, to
favor him with a call at the camp, to discuss the plan of operations for
the campaign. A similar invitation was sent by him to Mifflin; who
eventually resumed his station in the line.

And here we may note the downfall of the intriguing individual who had
given his name to the now extinguished cabal. Conway, after the
departure of Lafayette and De Kalb from Albany, had remained but a short
time in the command there, being ordered to join the army under General
McDougall, stationed at Fishkill. Thence he was soon ordered back to
Albany, whereupon he wrote an impertinent letter to the President of
Congress, complaining that he was “boxed about in a most indecent
manner.”

“What is the meaning,” demanded he, “of removing me from the scene of
action on the opening of the campaign? I did not deserve this burlesque
disgrace, and my honor will not permit me to bear it.” In a word, he
intimated a wish that the president would make his resignation
acceptable to Congress.

To his surprise and consternation, his resignation was immediately
accepted. He instantly wrote to the president, declaring that his
meaning had been misapprehended; and accounting for it by some
orthographical or grammatical faults in his letter, being an Irishman,
who had learnt his English in France. “I had no thoughts of resigning,”
adds he, “while there was a prospect of firing a single shot, and
especially at the beginning of a campaign which in my opinion will be a
very hot one.”

All his efforts to get reinstated were unavailing, though he went to
Yorktown to make them in person. “Conway’s appointment to the
inspectorship of the army, with the rank of major-general, after he had
insulted the commander-in-chief,” observes Wilkinson, “was a splenetic
measure of a majority of Congress, as factious as it was ill-judged.”

They had become heartily ashamed of it; especially as it had proved
universally unpopular. The office of inspector-general with the rank of
major-general, with the proper pay and appointments, were, at
Washington’s recommendation, voted by them on the 6th of May to Baron
Steuben, who had already performed the duties in so satisfactory a
manner.

NOTE.

As General Conway takes no further part in the events of this history,
we shall briefly dispose of him. Disappointed in his aims, he became
irritable in his temper, and offensive in his manners, and frequently
indulged in acrimonious language respecting the commander-in-chief,
that was highly resented by the army. In consequence of some dispute
he became involved in a duel with General John Cadwalader, in which he
was severely wounded. Thinking his end approaching, he addressed the
following penitential letter to Washington.

PHILADELPHIA, _23 July, 1778_.

SIR:—I find myself just able to hold the pen during a few minutes, and
take this opportunity of expressing my sincere grief for having done,
written, or said any thing disagreeable to your Excellency. My career
will soon be over, therefore justice and truth prompt me to declare my
last sentiments. You are in my eyes the great and good man. May you
long enjoy the love, veneration, and esteem of these States, whose
liberties you have asserted by your virtues.

I am, with the greatest respect, &c.,
THOMAS CONWAY.

Contrary to all expectation, he recovered from his wound; but, finding
himself without rank in the army, covered with public opprobrium, and
his very name become a byword, he abandoned a country in which he had
dishonored himself, and embarked for France in the course of the year.

The capture of Burgoyne and his army was now operating with powerful
effect on the cabinets of both England and France. With the former it
was coupled with the apprehension that France was about to espouse the
American cause. The consequence was Lord North’s “Conciliatory Bills,”
as they were called, submitted by him to Parliament, and passed with but
slight opposition. One of these bills regulated taxation in the American
colonies, in a manner which, it was trusted, would obviate every
objection. The other authorized the appointment of commissioners clothed
with powers to negotiate with the existing governments; to proclaim a
cessation of hostilities; to grant pardons, and to adopt other measures
of a conciliatory nature.

“If what was now proposed was a right measure,” observes a British
historian, “it ought to have been adopted at first and before the sword
was drawn; on the other hand, if the claims of the mother country over
her colonies were originally worth contending for, the strength and
resources of the nation were not yet so far exhausted as to justify
ministers in relinquishing them without a further struggle.”[132]

Intelligence that a treaty between France and the United States had
actually been concluded at Paris, induced the British minister to hurry
off a draft of the bills to America, to forestall the effects of the
treaty upon the public mind. General Tryon caused copies of it to be
printed in New York and circulated through the country. He sent several
of them to General Washington, 15th April, with a request that they
should be communicated to the officers and privates of his army.
Washington felt the singular impertinence of the request. He transmitted
them to Congress, observing that the time to entertain such overtures
was past. “Nothing short of independence, it appears to me, can possibly
do. A peace on other terms would, if I may be allowed the expression, be
a peace of war. The injuries we have received from the British nation
were so unprovoked, and have been so great and so many, that they can
never be forgotten.” These and other objections advanced by him met with
the concurrence of Congress, and it was unanimously resolved that no
conference could be held, no treaty made with any commissioners on the
part of Great Britain, until that power should have withdrawn its fleets
and armies, or acknowledged in positive and express terms the
independence of the United States.

On the following day, April 23d, a resolution was passed recommending to
the different States to pardon, under such restrictions as might be
deemed expedient, such of their citizens as, having levied war against
the United States, should return to their allegiance before the 16th of
June. Copies of this resolution were struck off in English and German,
and enclosed by Washington in a letter to General Tryon, in which he
indulged in a vein of grave irony.

“SIR,—Your letter of the 17th and a triplicate of the same were duly
received. I had the pleasure of seeing the drafts of the two bills,
before those which were sent by you came to hand; and I can assure you
they were suffered to have a free currency among the officers and men
under my command, in whose fidelity to the United States I have the
most perfect confidence. The enclosed Gazette, published the 24th at
Yorktown, will show you that it is the wish of Congress that they
should have an unrestrained circulation.[133]

“I take the liberty to transmit to you a few printed copies of a
resolution of Congress of the 23d instant, and to request that you
will be instrumental in communicating its contents, so far as it may
be in your power, to the persons who are the objects of its
operations. The benevolent purpose it is intended to answer will, I
persuade myself, sufficiently recommend it to your candor. I am, Sir,”
&c.

The tidings of the capitulation of Burgoyne had been equally efficacious
in quickening the action of the French cabinet. The negotiations, which
had gone on so slowly as almost to reduce our commissioners to despair,
were brought to a happy termination, and on the 2d of May, ten days
after the passing by Congress of the resolves just cited, a messenger
arrived express from France with two treaties, one of amity and
commerce, the other of defensive alliance, signed in Paris on the 6th of
February by M. Girard on the part of France, and by Benjamin Franklin,
Silas Deane, and Arthur Lee on the part of the United States. This last
treaty stipulated that, should war ensue between France and England, it
should be made a common cause by the contracting parties, in which
neither should make truce or peace with Great Britain without the
consent of the other, nor either lay down their arms until the
independence of the United States was established.

These treaties were unanimously ratified by Congress, and their
promulgation was celebrated by public rejoicings throughout the country.
The 6th of May was set apart for a military fête at the camp at Valley
Forge. The army was assembled in best array; there was solemn
thanksgiving by the chaplains at the head of each brigade; after which a
grand parade, a national discharge of thirteen guns, a general _feu de
joie_, and shouts of the whole army, “Long live the King of France—Long
live the friendly European Powers—Huzza for the American States.” A
banquet succeeded, at which Washington dined in public with all the
officers of his army, attended by a band of music. Patriotic toasts were
given and heartily cheered. “I never was present,” writes a spectator,
“where there was such unfeigned and perfect joy as was discovered in
every countenance. Washington retired at five o’clock, on which there
was universal huzzaing and clapping of hands—‘Long live General
Washington.’ The non-commissioned officers and privates followed the
example of their officers as he rode past their brigades. The shouts
continued till he had proceeded a quarter of a mile, and a thousand hats
were tossed in the air. Washington and his suite turned round several
times and cheered in reply.” Gates and Mifflin, if in the camp at the
time, must have seen enough to convince them that the commander-in-chief
was supreme in the affections of the army.

On the 8th, the council of war, ordered by Congress, was convened; at
which were present Major-generals Gates, Greene, Stirling, Mifflin,
Lafayette, De Kalb, Armstrong and Steuben and Brigadier-generals Knox
and Duportail. After the state of the forces, British and American,
their number and distribution, had been laid before the council by the
commander-in-chief, and a full discussion had been held, it was
unanimously determined to remain on the defensive, and not attempt any
offensive operation until some opportunity should occur to strike a
successful blow. General Lee was not present at the council, but
afterwards signed the decision.

While the Conciliatory Bills failed thus signally of their anticipated
effect upon the Congress and people of the United States, they were
regarded with indignation by the royal forces in America, as offering a
humiliating contrast to the high and arrogant tone hitherto indulged
towards the “rebels.” They struck dismay too into the hearts of the
American royalists and refugees; who beheld in them sure prognostics of
triumph to the cause they had opposed, and of mortification and trouble,
if not of exile, to themselves.

The military career of Sir William Howe in the United States was now
drawing to a close. His conduct of the war had given much
dissatisfaction in England. His enemies observed that every thing gained
by the troops was lost by the general; that he had suffered an enemy
with less than four thousand men to reconquer a province which he had
recently reduced, and lay a kind of siege to his army in their
winter-quarters;[134] and that he had brought a sad reverse upon the
British arms, by failing to co-operate vigorously and efficiently with
Burgoyne.

Sir William, on his part, had considered himself slighted by the
ministry; his suggestions, he said, were disregarded, and the
reinforcements withheld which he considered indispensable for the
successful conduct of the war. He had therefore tendered his
resignation, which had been promptly accepted, and Sir Henry Clinton
ordered to relieve him. Clinton arrived in Philadelphia on the 8th of
May, and took command of the army on the 11th.

Sir William Howe was popular among the officers of his army, from his
open and engaging manners; and, perhaps, from the loose rule which
indulged them in their social excesses. A number of them combined to
close his inglorious residence in Philadelphia by a still more
inglorious pageant. It was called the MISCHIANZA (or Medley), a kind of
regatta and tournament; the former on the Delaware, the latter at a
country-seat on its banks.

The regatta was in three divisions; each with its band of music, to
which the oarsmen kept time.

The river was crowded with boats, which were kept at a distance from the
squadrons of gayly decorated barges, and the houses, balconies, and
wharves along the shore, were filled with spectators.

We forbear to give the fulsome descriptions of the land part of the
Mischianza furnished by various pens; and will content ourselves with
the following, from the pen of a British writer who was present. It
illustrates sufficiently the absurdity of the scene.

“All the colors of the army were placed in a grand avenue three hundred
feet in length, lined with the king’s troops, between two triumphal
arches, for the two brothers, the Admiral Lord Howe and the General Sir
William Howe, to march along in pompous procession, followed by a
numerous train of attendants, with seven silken Knights of the Blended
Rose, and seven more of the Burning Mountain, and fourteen damsels
dressed in the Turkish fashion, to an area of one hundred and fifty
yards square, lined also with the king’s troops; for the exhibition of a
tilt and tournament, or mock fight of old chivalry, in honor of those
two heroes. On the top of each triumphal arch was a figure of Fame
bespangled with stars, blowing from her trumpet, in letters of light,
_Tes lauriers sont immortels_ (Thy laurels are immortal).” On this
occasion, according to the same writer, “men compared the importance of
Sir William’s services with the merit he assumed, and the gravity with
which he sustained the most excessive praise and adulation.”

The unfortunate Major André, at that time a captain, was very efficient
in getting up this tawdry and somewhat effeminate pageant. He had
promoted private theatricals during the winter, and aided in painting
scenery and devising decorations. He wrote a glowing description of the
Mischianza, in a letter to a friend, pronouncing it as perhaps the most
splendid entertainment ever given by any army to their general. He
figured in it as one of the Knights of the Blended Rose. In a letter
written to a lady, in the following year, he alludes to his preparations
for it as having made him a complete milliner, and offers his services
to furnish her supplies in that department.

At the time of this silken and mock heroic display, the number of
British chivalry in Philadelphia was nineteen thousand five hundred and
thirty, cooped up in a manner by an American force at Valley Forge,
amounting, according to official returns to eleven thousand eight
hundred men. Could any triumphal pageant be more ill-placed and
ill-timed!

CHAPTER XXXIII.

LAFAYETTE DETACHED TO KEEP WATCH ON PHILADELPHIA—HIS POSITION AT
BARREN HILL—PLAN OF SIR HENRY TO ENTRAP HIM—WASHINGTON ALARMED FOR
HIS SAFETY—STRATAGEM OF THE MARQUIS—EXCHANGE OF GENERAL LEE AND
COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN—ALLEN AT VALLEY FORGE—WASHINGTON’S OPINION OF
HIM—PREPARATIONS IN PHILADELPHIA TO EVACUATE—WASHINGTON’S MEASURES
IN CONSEQUENCE—ARRIVAL OF COMMISSIONERS FROM ENGLAND—THEIR
DISAPPOINTMENT—THEIR PROCEEDINGS—THEIR FAILURE—THEIR MANIFESTO.

Soon after Sir Henry Clinton had taken the command, there were symptoms
of an intention to evacuate Philadelphia. Whither the enemy would thence
direct their course was a matter of mere conjecture. Lafayette was
therefore detached by Washington, with twenty-one hundred chosen men and
five pieces of cannon, to take a position nearer the city, where he
might be at hand to gain information, watch the movements of the enemy,
check their predatory excursions, and fall on their rear when in the act
of withdrawing.

The marquis crossed the Schuylkill on the 18th of May, and proceeded to
Barren Hill, about half way between Washington’s camp and Philadelphia,
and about eleven miles from both. Here he planted his cannon facing the
south, with rocky ridges bordering the Schuylkill on his right; woods
and stone houses on his left. Behind him the roads forked, one branch
leading to Matson’s Ford of the Schuylkill, the other by Swedes’ Ford to
Valley Forge. In advance of his left wing was McLane’s company and about
fifty Indians. Pickets and videttes were placed in the woods to the
south, through which the roads led to Philadelphia, and a body of six
hundred Pennsylvania militia were stationed to keep watch on the roads
leading to White Marsh.

In the mean time Sir Henry Clinton, having received intelligence through
his spies of this movement of Lafayette, concerted a plan to entrap the
young French nobleman. Five thousand men were sent out at night, under
General Grant, to make a circuitous march by White Marsh, and get in the
rear of the Americans; another force under General Grey was to cross to
the west side of the Schuylkill, and take post below Barren Hill, while
Sir Henry in person was to lead a third division along the Philadelphia
road.

The plan came near being completely successful, through the remissness
of the Pennsylvania militia, who had left their post of observation.
Early in the morning, as Lafayette was conversing with a young girl, who
was to go to Philadelphia and collect information, under pretext of
visiting her relatives, word was brought that red coats had been
descried in the woods near White Marsh. Lafayette was expecting a troop
of American dragoons in that quarter, who wore scarlet uniforms, and
supposed these to be them; to be certain, however, he sent out an
officer to reconnoitre. The latter soon came spurring back at full
speed. A column of the enemy had pushed forward on the road from White
Marsh, were within a mile of the camp, and had possession of the road
leading to Valley Forge. Another column was advancing on the
Philadelphia road. In fact, the young French general was on the point of
being surrounded by a greatly superior force.

Lafayette saw his danger, but maintained his presence of mind. Throwing
out small parties of troops to show themselves at various points of the
intervening wood, as if an attack on Grant was meditated, he brought
that general to a halt, to prepare for action, while he with his main
body pushed forward for Matson’s Ford on the Schuylkill.

The alarm guns at sunrise had apprised Washington that the detachment
under Lafayette was in danger. The troops at Valley Forge were instantly
under arms. Washington, with his aides-de-camp and some of his general
officers, galloped to the summit of a hill, and anxiously reconnoitred
the scene of action with a glass. His solicitude for the marquis was
soon relieved. The stratagem of the youthful warrior had been crowned
with success. He completely gained the march upon General Grant, reached
Matson’s Ford in safety, crossed it in great order, and took a strong
position on high grounds which commanded it. The enemy arrived at the
river just in time for a skirmish as the artillery was crossing. Seeing
that Lafayette had extricated himself from their hands, and was so
strongly posted, they gave over all attack, and returned somewhat
disconcerted to Philadelphia; while the youthful marquis rejoined the
army at Valley Forge, where he was received with acclamations.

The exchange of General Lee for General Prescott, so long delayed by
various impediments, had recently been effected; and Lee was reinstated
in his position of second in command. Colonel Ethan Allen, also, had
been released from his long captivity in exchange for Colonel Campbell.
Allen paid a visit to the camp at Valley Forge, where he had much to
tell of his various vicissitudes and hardships. Washington, in a letter
to the President of Congress suggesting that something should be done
for Allen, observes: “His fortitude and firmness seem to have placed him
out of the reach of misfortune. There is an original something about him
that commands admiration, and his long captivity and sufferings have
only served to increase, if possible, his enthusiastic zeal. He appears
very desirous of rendering his services to the States, and of being
employed; and at the same time, he does not discover any ambition for
high rank.”

In a few days, a brevet commission of colonel arrived for Allen; but he
had already left camp for his home in Vermont, where he appears to have
hung up his sword; for we meet with no further achievements by him on
record.

Indications continued to increase of the departure of troops from
Philadelphia. The military quarters were in a stir and bustle; effects
were packed up; many sold at auction; baggage and heavy cannon embarked;
transports fitted up for the reception of horses, and hay taken on
board. Was the whole army to leave the city, or only a part? The former
was probable. A war between France and England appeared to be impending:
in that event, Philadelphia would be an ineligible position for the
British army.

New York, it was concluded, would be the place of destination; either as
a rendezvous, or a post whence to attempt the occupation of the Hudson.
Would they proceed thither by land or water? Supposing the former,
Washington would gladly have taken post in Jersey, to oppose or harass
them, on their march through that State. His camp, however, was
encumbered by upwards of three thousand sick; and covered a great amount
of military stores. He dared not weaken it by detaching a sufficient
force; especially as it was said the enemy intended to attack him before
their departure.

For three weeks affairs remained in this state. Washington held his army
ready to march toward the Hudson at a moment’s warning; and sent General
Maxwell with a brigade of Jersey troops, to co-operate with
Major-general Dickinson and the militia of that State, in breaking down
the bridges and harassing the enemy, should they actually attempt to
march through it. At the same time he wrote to General Gates, who was
now at his post on the Hudson, urging him to call in as large a force of
militia as he could find subsistence for, and to be on the alert for the
protection of that river.

In the mean time, the commissioners empowered under the new Conciliatory
Bills to negotiate the restoration of peace between Great Britain and
her former colonies, arrived in the Delaware in the Trident ship-of-war.
These were Frederick Howard, Earl of Carlisle; William Eden (afterwards
Lord Ackland), brother of the last colonial governor of Maryland; and
George Johnstone, sometimes called commodore, from having served in the
navy, but more commonly known as Governor Johnstone, having held that
office in Florida. He was now a member of Parliament, and in the
opposition. Their secretary was the celebrated Dr. Adam Ferguson, an
Edinburgh professor; author of a Roman History, and who in his younger
days (he was now about fifty-five years of age) had been a “fighting
chaplain at Fontenoy.”

The choice of commissioners gave rise to much criticism and cavil;
especially that of Lord Carlisle, a young man of fashion, amiable and
intelligent, it is true, but unfitted by his soft European habits for
such a mission. “To captivate the rude members of Congress,” said
Wilkes, “and civilize the wild inhabitants of an unpolished country, a
noble peer was very properly appointed chief of the honorable embassy.
His lordship, to the surprise and admiration of that part of the New
World, carried with him a green ribbon, the gentle manners, winning
behavior, and soft insinuating address of a modern man of quality and a
professed courtier. The muses and graces with a group of little laughing
loves were in his train, and for the first time crossed the
Atlantic.”[135]

Mr. Eden, by his letter still in existence,[136] appears to have been
unkindly disposed towards America. Johnstone was evidently the strongest
member of the commission. Fox pronounced him “the only one who could
have the ear of the people in America,” he alone had been their friend
in Great Britain, and was acquainted with the people of Pennsylvania.

The commissioners landed at Philadelphia on the 6th of June, and
discovered, to their astonishment, that they had come out, as it were,
in the dark, on a mission in which but a half confidence had been
reposed in them by government. Three weeks before their departure from
England, orders had been sent out to Sir Henry Clinton to evacuate
Philadelphia and concentrate his forces at New York; yet these orders
were never imparted to them. Their letters and speeches testify their
surprise and indignation at finding their plan of operations so
completely disconcerted by their own cabinet. “We found every thing
here,” writes Lord Carlisle, “in great confusion; the army upon the
point of leaving the town, and about three thousand of the miserable
inhabitants embarked on board of our ships, to convey them from a place
where they think they would receive no mercy from those who will take
possession after us.”

So Governor Johnstone, in speeches subsequently made in Parliament: “On
my arrival, the orders for the evacuation had been made public—the city
was in the utmost consternation: a more affecting spectacle of woe I
never beheld.” And again: “The commissioners were received at
Philadelphia with all the joy which a generous people could express. Why
were you so long a-coming? was the general cry. Do not abandon us.
Retain the army and send them against Washington, and the affair is
over. Ten thousand men will arm for you in this province, and ten
thousand in the lower counties, the moment you take the field and can
get arms. The declarations were general and notorious, and I am
persuaded, if we had been at liberty to have acted in the field, our
most sanguine expectations would have been fulfilled.”

The orders for evacuation, however, were too peremptory to be evaded,
but Johnstone declared that if he had known of them, he never would have
gone on the mission. The commissioners had prepared a letter for
Congress, merely informing that body of their arrival and powers, and
their disposition to promote a reconciliation, intending quietly to
await an answer; but the unexpected situation of affairs occasioned by
the order for evacuation, obliged them to alter their resolution, and to
write one of a different character, bringing forward at once all the
powers delegated to them.

On the 9th June, Sir Henry Clinton informed Washington of the arrival of
the commissioners, and requested a passport for their secretary, Dr.
Ferguson, the historian, to proceed to Yorktown bearing a letter to
Congress. Washington sent to Congress a copy of Sir Henry’s letter, but
did not consider himself at liberty to grant the passport until
authorized by them.

Without waiting the result, the commissioners forwarded, by the ordinary
military post, their letter, accompanied by the “Conciliatory Acts” and
other documents. They were received by Congress on the 13th. The letter
of the commissioners was addressed “to His Excellency, Henry Laurens,
the President and others, the members of Congress.” The reading of the
letter was interrupted; and it came near being indignantly rejected, on
account of expressions disrespectful to France; charging it with being
the insidious enemy of both England and her colonies, and interposing
its pretended friendship to the latter “only to prevent reconciliation
and prolong this destructive war.” Several days elapsed before the
Congress recovered sufficient equanimity to proceed with the despatches
of the commissioners, and deliberate on the propositions they contained.

In their reply, signed by the president (June 17th), they observed, that
nothing but an earnest desire to spare further effusion of blood, could
have induced them to read a paper containing expressions so
disrespectful to his most Christian Majesty, or to consider propositions
so derogatory to the honor of an independent nation; and in conclusion,
they expressed a readiness to treat as soon as the King of Great Britain
should demonstrate a sincere disposition for peace, either by an
explicit acknowledgment of the independence of the States, or by the
withdrawal of his fleets and armies.

We will not follow the commissioners through their various attempts,
overtly and covertly, to forward the object of their mission. We cannot,
however, pass unnoticed an intimation conveyed from Governor Johnstone
to General Joseph Reed, at this time an influential member of Congress,
that effectual services on his part to restore the union of the two
countries might be rewarded by ten thousand pounds sterling, and any
office in the colonies in His Majesty’s gift. To this, Reed made his
brief and memorable reply: “I am not worth purchasing; but such as I am,
the King of Great Britain is not rich enough to do it.”

A letter was also written by Johnstone to Robert Morris, the celebrated
financier, then also a member of Congress, containing the following
significant paragraph: “I believe the men who have conducted the affairs
of America incapable of being influenced by improper motives; but in all
such transactions there is risk; and I think that whoever ventures,
should be assured, at the same time, that honor and emolument should
naturally follow the fortune of those who have steered the vessel in the
storm and brought her safely into port. I think Washington and the
President have a right to every favor that grateful nations can bestow,
if they could once more unite our interest, and spare the miseries and
devastation of war.”

These transactions and letters being communicated to Congress, were
pronounced by them daring and atrocious attempts to corrupt their
integrity, and they resolved that it was incompatible with their honor
to hold any correspondence or intercourse with the commissioner who made
it; especially to negotiate with him upon affairs in which the cause of
liberty was concerned.

The commissioners, disappointed in their hopes of influencing Congress,
attempted to operate on the feelings of the public, at one time by
conciliatory appeals, at another by threats and denunciations. Their
last measure was to publish a manifesto recapitulating their official
proceedings; stating the refusal of Congress to treat with them, and
offering to treat within forty days with deputies from all or any of the
colonies or provincial Assemblies; holding forth, at the same time, the
usual offers of conditional amnesty. This measure, like all which had
preceded it, proved ineffectual; the commissioners embarked for England,
and so terminated this tardy and blundering attempt of the British
Government and its agents to effect a reconciliation—the last attempt
that was made.

Lord Carlisle, who had taken the least prominent part in these
transactions, thus writes in the course of them to his friend, the witty
George Selwyn, and his letter may serve as a peroration. “I enclose you
our manifesto, which you will never read. ’Tis a sort of dying speech of
the commission; an effort from which I expect little success. * * * *
Every thing is upon a great scale upon this continent. The rivers are
immense; the climate violent in heat and cold; the prospects
magnificent; the thunder and lightning tremendous. The disorders
incident to the country make every constitution tremble. We have nothing
on a great scale with us but our blunders, our misconduct, our ruin, our
losses, our disgraces and misfortunes, that will mark the reign of a
prince, who deserves better treatment and kinder fortunes.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

PREPARATIONS TO EVACUATE PHILADELPHIA—WASHINGTON CALLS A COUNCIL OF
WAR—LEE OPPOSED TO ANY ATTACK—PHILADELPHIA EVACUATED—MOVEMENTS IN
PURSUIT OF SIR HENRY CLINTON—ANOTHER COUNCIL OF WAR—CONFLICT OF
OPINIONS—CONTRADICTORY CONDUCT OF LEE RESPECTING THE COMMAND—THE
BATTLE OF MONMOUTH COURT HOUSE—SUBSEQUENT MARCH OF THE ARMIES.

The delay of the British to evacuate Philadelphia tasked the sagacity of
Washington, but he supposed it to have been caused by the arrival of the
commissioners from Great Britain. The force in the city in the mean time
had been much reduced. Five thousand men had been detached to aid in a
sudden descent on the French possessions in the West Indies; three
thousand more to Florida. Most of the cavalry with other troops had been
shipped with the provision train and heavy baggage to New York. The
effective force remaining with Sir Henry was now about nine or ten
thousand men; that under Washington was a little more than twelve
thousand Continentals, and about thirteen hundred militia. It had
already acquired considerable proficiency in tactics and field
manœuvring under the diligent instructions of Steuben.

Early in June, it was evident that a total evacuation of the city was on
the point of taking place; and circumstances convinced Washington that
the march of the main body would be through the Jerseys. Some of his
officers thought differently, especially General Lee, who had now the
command of a division composed of Poor, Varnum, and Huntington’s
brigades. Lee, since his return to the army, had resumed somewhat of his
old habit of cynical supervision, and had his circle of admirers, among
whom he indulged in caustic comments on military affairs and the merits
of commanders.

On the present occasion he addressed a letter to Washington, dated June
15th, suggesting other plans which the enemy might have in view.
“Whether they do or do not adopt any of these plans,” added he, “there
can be no inconvenience arise from considering the subject, nor from
devising means of defeating their purposes, on the supposition that they
will.”

Washington, in his reply, gave the suggestions of Lee a candid and
respectful consideration, but in the course of his letter took occasion
to hint a little gentle admonition.

“I shall always be happy,” writes he, “in a free communication of your
sentiments upon any important subject relative to the service, and only
beg that they may come directly to myself. The custom which many
officers have, of speaking freely, and reprobating measures, which, upon
investigation, may be found to be unavoidable, is never productive of
good, but often of very mischievous consequences.”

In consequence probably of the suggestions of Lee, Washington called a
general council of war, on the 17th, to consider what measures to adopt;
whether to undertake any enterprise against the enemy in their present
circumstances—whether the army should remain in its actual position,
until the final evacuation had taken place, or move immediately toward
the Delaware—whether, should the enemy march through the Jerseys, it
would be advisable to attack them while on the way, or to push on
directly to the Hudson, and secure that important communication between
the Eastern and Southern States? In case an attack while on the march
were determined on, should it be a partial or a general one?

Lee spoke eloquently on the occasion. He was opposed to an attack of any
kind. He would make a bridge of gold for the enemy. They were nearly
equal in number to the Americans, and far superior in discipline; in
fact, never had troops been better disciplined. An attack would endanger
the safety of the cause. It was now in a prosperous state, in
consequence of the foreign alliance just formed; all ought not to be put
at risk at the very moment of making such an alliance. He advised merely
to follow the enemy, observe their motions, and prevent them from
committing any excesses.

Lee’s opinions had still great weight with the army; most of the
officers, both foreign and American, concurred with him. Greene,
Lafayette, Wayne, and Cadwalader, thought differently. They could not
brook that the enemy should evacuate the city, and make a long march
through the country unmolested. An opportunity might present itself,
amid the bustle and confusion of departure, or while embarrassed in
defiles with a cumbrous baggage train, of striking some signal blow,
that would indemnify them for all they had suffered in their long and
dreary encampment at Valley Forge.

Washington’s heart was with this latter counsel; but seeing such want of
unanimity among his generals, he requested their opinions in writing.
Before these were given in, word was brought that the enemy had actually
evacuated the city.

Sir Henry had taken his measures with great secrecy and despatch. The
army commenced moving at three o’clock on the morning of the 18th,
retiring to a point of land below the town formed by the confluence of
the Delaware and Schuylkill, and crossing the former river in boats. By
ten o’clock in the morning the rear-guard landed on the Jersey shore.

On the first intelligence of this movement, Washington detached General
Maxwell with his brigade, to co-operate with General Dickinson and the
New Jersey militia in harassing the enemy on their march. He sent
General Arnold, also, with a force to take command of Philadelphia, that
officer being not yet sufficiently recovered from his wound for field
service; then breaking up his camp at Valley Forge, he pushed forward
with his main force in pursuit of the enemy.

As the route of the latter lay along the eastern bank of the Delaware as
high as Trenton, Washington was obliged to make a considerable circuit,
so as to cross the river higher up at Coryell’s Ferry, near the place
where, eighteen months previously, he had crossed to attack the
Hessians.

On the 20th, he writes to General Gates: “I am now with the main body of
the army within ten miles of Coryell’s Ferry. General Lee is advanced
with six brigades, and will cross to-night or to-morrow morning. By the
last intelligence the enemy are near Mount Holly, and moving very
slowly; but as there are so many roads open to them, their route could
not be ascertained. I shall enter the Jerseys to-morrow, and give you
the earliest notice of their movements, and whatever may affect you.”

Heavy rains and sultry summer heat retarded his movements; but the army
crossed on the 24th. The British were now at Moorestown and Mount Holly.
Thence they might take the road on the left for Brunswick, and so on to
Staten Island and New York; or the road to the right through Monmouth,
by the Heights of Middletown to Sandy Hook. Uncertain which they might
adopt, Washington detached Colonel Morgan with six hundred picked men to
reinforce Maxwell, and hang on their rear; while he himself pushed
forward with the main body toward Princeton, cautiously keeping along
the mountainous country to the left of the most northern road.

The march of Sir Henry was very slow. His army was encumbered with
baggage and provisions, and all the nameless superfluities in which
British officers are prone to indulge. His train of wheel carriages and
bat horses was twelve miles in extent. He was retarded by heavy rain and
intolerable heat; bridges had to be built and causeways constructed over
streams and marshes, where they had been destroyed by the Americans.

From his dilatory movements, Washington suspected Sir Henry of a design
to draw him down into the level country, and then, by a rapid movement
on his right, to gain possession of the strong ground above him, and
bring him to a general action on disadvantageous terms. He himself was
inclined for a general action whenever it could be made on suitable
ground: he halted, therefore, at Hopewell, about five miles from
Princeton, and held another council of war while his troops were
reposing and refreshing themselves. The result of it, writes his
aide-de-camp, Colonel Hamilton, “would have done honor to the most
honorable society of midwives, and to them only.”[137] The purport was
to keep at a distance from the enemy, and annoy them by detachments.
Lee, according to Hamilton, was the prime mover of this plan, in
pursuance of which a detachment of fifteen hundred men was sent off
under Brigadier-general Scott, to join the other troops near the enemy’s
line. Lee was even opposed to sending so large a number.

Generals Greene, Wayne, and Lafayette were in the minority in the
council, and subsequently gave separately the same opinion in writing,
that the rear of the enemy should be attacked by a strong detachment,
while the main army should be so disposed as to give a general battle,
should circumstances render it advisable. As this opinion coincided with
his own, Washington determined to act upon it.

Sir Henry Clinton in the mean time had advanced to Allentown, on his way
to Brunswick, to embark on the Raritan. Finding the passage of that
river likely to be strongly disputed by the forces under Washington, and
others advancing from the north under Gates, he changed his plan, and
turned to the right by a road leading through Freehold to Navesink and
Sandy Hook; to embark at the latter place.

Washington, no longer in doubt as to the route of the enemy’s march,
detached Wayne with one thousand men to join the advanced corps, which,
thus augmented, was upwards of four thousand strong. The command of the
advance properly belonged to Lee as senior major-general; but it was
eagerly solicited by Lafayette, as an attack by it was intended, and Lee
was strenuously opposed to every thing of the kind. Washington willingly
gave his consent, provided General Lee were satisfied with the
arrangement. The latter ceded the command without hesitation, observing
to the marquis that he was well pleased to be freed from all
responsibility in executing plans which he was sure would fail.

Lafayette set out on the 25th to form a junction as soon as possible
with the force under General Scott; while Washington, leaving his
baggage at Kingston, moved with the main body to Cranberry, three miles
in the rear of the advanced corps, to be ready to support it.

Scarce, however, had Lee relinquished the command, when he changed his
mind. In a note to Washington, he declared that, in assenting to the
arrangement, he had considered the command of the detachment one more
fitting a young volunteering general than a veteran like himself, second
in command in the army. He now viewed it in a different light. Lafayette
would be at the head of all the Continental parties already in the line;
six thousand men at least; a command next to that of the
commander-in-chief. Should the detachment march, therefore, he entreated
to have the command of it. So far he spoke personally, “but,” added he,
“to speak as an officer, I do not think that this detachment ought to
march at all, until at least the head of the enemy’s right column has
passed Cranberry; then if it is necessary to march the whole army, I
cannot see any impropriety in the marquis’s commanding this detachment,
or a greater, as an advanced guard of the army; but if this detachment,
with Maxwell’s corps, Scott’s, Morgan’s and Jackson’s, is to be
considered as a separate, chosen, active corps, and put under the
marquis’s command until the enemy leave the Jerseys, both myself and
Lord Stirling will be disgraced.”

Washington was perplexed how to satisfy Lee’s punctilious claims without
wounding the feelings of Lafayette. A change in the disposition of the
enemy’s line of march furnished an expedient. Sir Henry Clinton, finding
himself harassed by light troops on the flanks, and in danger of an
attack in the rear, placed all his baggage in front under the convoy of
Knyphausen, while he threw the main strength of his army in the rear
under Lord Cornwallis.

This made it necessary for Washington to strengthen his advanced corps;
and he took this occasion to detach Lee, with Scott’s and Varnum’s
brigades, to support the force under Lafayette. As Lee was the senior
major-general, this gave him the command of the whole advance.
Washington explained the matter in a letter to the marquis, who resigned
the command to Lee when the latter joined him on the 27th. That evening
the enemy encamped on high ground near Monmouth Court House. Lee
encamped with the advance at Englishtown, about five miles distant. The
main body was three miles in his rear.

About sunset, Washington rode forward to the advance, and anxiously
reconnoitred Sir Henry’s position. It was protected by woods and
morasses, and too strong to be attacked with a prospect of success.
Should the enemy, however, proceed ten or twelve miles further
unmolested, they would gain the heights of Middletown, and be on ground
still more difficult. To prevent this, he resolved that an attack should
be made on their rear early in the morning, as soon as their front
should be in motion. This plan he communicated to General Lee, in
presence of his officers, ordering him to make dispositions for the
attack, keeping his troops lying on their arms, ready for action on the
shortest notice; a disposition he intended to observe with his own
troops. This done, he rode back to the main body.

Apprehensive that Sir Henry might decamp in the night, Washington sent
orders to Lee before midnight, to detach six or seven hundred men to lie
near the enemy, watch and give notice of their movements, and hold them
in check when on the march until the rest of the troops could come up.
General Dickinson was charged by Lee with this duty. Morgan was likewise
stationed with his corps to be ready for skirmishing.

Early in the morning, Washington received an express from Dickinson,
informing him that the enemy were in motion. He instantly sent orders to
Lee to push forward and attack them, unless there should be powerful
reasons to the contrary, adding, that he was coming on to support him.
For that purpose he immediately set forward with his own troops,
ordering them to throw by their knapsacks and blankets.

Knyphausen, with the British vanguard, had begun about daybreak to
descend into the valley between Monmouth Court House and Middletown. To
give the long train of waggons and pack horses time to get well on the
way, Sir Henry Clinton with his choice troops remained in camp on the
heights of Freehold, until eight o’clock, when he likewise resumed the
line of march toward Middletown.

In the mean time Lee, on hearing of the early movement of the enemy, had
advanced with the brigades of Wayne and Maxwell, to support the light
troops engaged in skirmishing. The difficulty of reconnoitring a country
cut up by woods and morasses, and the perplexity occasioned by
contradictory reports, embarrassed his movements. Being joined by
Lafayette with the main body of the advance, he had now about four
thousand men at his command, independent of those under Morgan and
General Dickinson.

Arriving on the heights of Freehold, and riding forward with General
Wayne to an open place to reconnoitre, Lee caught sight of a force under
march, but partly hidden from view by intervening woods. Supposing it to
be a mere covering party of about two thousand men, he detached Wayne
with seven hundred men and two pieces of artillery, to skirmish in its
rear and hold it in check; while he, with the rest of his force, taking
a shorter road through the woods, would get in front of it, and cut it
off from the main body. He at the same time sent a message to
Washington, apprising him of this movement and of his certainty of
success.[138]

Washington in the mean time was on his march with the main body, to
support the advance, as he had promised. The booming of cannon at a
distance indicated that the attack so much desired had commenced, and
caused him to quicken his march. Arrived near Freehold church, where the
road forked, he detached Greene with part of his forces to the right, to
flank the enemy in the rear of Monmouth Court House, while he, with the
rest of the column, would press forward by the other road.

Washington had alighted while giving these directions, and was standing
with his arm thrown over his horse, when a countryman rode up and said
the Continental troops were retreating. Washington was provoked at what
he considered a false alarm. The man pointed, as his authority, to an
American fifer who just then came up in breathless affright. The fifer
was ordered into custody to prevent his spreading an alarm among the
troops who were advancing, and was threatened with a flogging should he
repeat the story.

Springing on his horse, Washington had moved forward but a short
distance when he met other fugitives, one in the garb of a soldier, who
all concurred in the report. He now sent forward Colonels Fitzgerald and
Harrison, to learn the truth, while he himself spurred past Freehold
meeting-house. Between that edifice and the morass beyond it, he met
Grayson’s and Patton’s regiments in most disorderly retreat, jaded with
heat and fatigue. Riding up to the officer at their head, Washington
demanded whether the whole advanced corps were retreating. The officer
believed they were.

It seemed incredible. There had been scarce any firing—Washington had
received no notice of the retreat from Lee. He was still almost inclined
to doubt, when the heads of several columns of the advance began to
appear. It was too evident—the whole advance was falling back on the
main body, and no notice had been given to him. One of the first
officers that came up was Colonel Shreve, at the head of his regiment;
Washington, greatly surprised and alarmed, asked the meaning of this
retreat. The colonel smiled significantly—he did not know—he had
retreated by order. There had been no fighting excepting a slight
skirmish with the enemy’s cavalry, which had been repulsed.

A suspicion flashed across Washington’s mind, of wrong-headed conduct on
the part of Lee, to mar the plan of attack adopted contrary to his
counsels. Ordering Colonel Shreve to march his men over the morass, halt
them on the hill beyond and refresh them, he galloped forward to stop
the retreat of the rest of the advance, his indignation kindling as he
rode. At the rear of the regiment he met Major Howard; he, too, could
give no reason for the retreat, but seemed provoked at it—declaring that
he had never seen the like. Another officer exclaimed with an oath that
they were flying from a shadow.

Arriving at a rising ground, Washington beheld Lee approaching with the
residue of his command in full retreat. By this time he was thoroughly
exasperated.

“What is the meaning of all this, sir?” demanded he, in the sternest and
even fiercest tone, as Lee rode up to him.

Lee for a moment was disconcerted, and hesitated in making a reply, for
Washington’s aspect, according to Lafayette, was terrible.

“I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and confusion,” was again
demanded still more vehemently.

Lee, stung by the manner more than the words of the demand, made an
angry reply, and provoked still sharper expressions, which have been
variously reported. He attempted a hurried explanation. His troops had
been thrown into confusion by contradictory intelligence; by
disobedience of orders; by the meddling and blundering of individuals;
and he had not felt disposed, he said, to beard the whole British army
with troops in such a situation.

“I have certain information,” rejoined Washington, “that it was merely a
strong covering party.”

“That may be, but it was stronger than mine, and I did not think proper
to run such a risk.”

“I am very sorry,” replied Washington, “that you undertook the command,
unless you meant to fight the enemy.”

“I did not think it prudent to bring on a general engagement.”

“Whatever your opinion may have been,” replied Washington, disdainfully,
“I expected my orders would have been obeyed.”

This all passed rapidly, and, as it were, in flashes, for there was no
time for parley. The enemy were within a quarter of an hour’s march.
Washington’s appearance had stopped the retreat. The fortunes of the day
were to be retrieved, if possible by instant arrangements. These he
proceeded to make with great celerity. The place was favorable for a
stand; it was a rising ground, to which the enemy could approach only
over a narrow causeway. The rallied troops were hastily formed upon this
eminence. Colonels Stewart and Ramsey, with two batteries, were
stationed in a covert of woods on their left, to protect them and keep
the enemy at bay. Colonel Oswald was posted for the same purpose on a
height, with two field-pieces. The promptness with which every thing was
done showed the effects of the Baron Steuben’s discipline.

In the interim, Lee, being asked about the disposition of some of the
troops, replied that he could give no orders in the matter; as he
supposed General Washington intended he should have no further command.

Shortly after this, Washington, having made all his arrangements with
great dispatch but admirable clearness and precision, rode back to Lee
in calmer mood, and inquired, “Will you retain the command on this
height or not? if you will, I will return to the main body, and have it
formed on the next height.”

“It is equal to me where I command,” replied Lee.

“I expect you will take proper means for checking the enemy,” rejoined
Washington.

“Your orders shall be obeyed; and I shall not be the first to leave the
ground,” was the reply.

A warm cannonade by Oswald, Stewart, and Ramsey, had the desired effect.
The enemy were brought to a stand, and Washington had time to gallop
back and bring on the main body. This he formed on an eminence, with a
wood in the rear and the morass in front. The left wing was commanded by
Lord Stirling, who had with him a detachment of artillery and several
field-pieces. General Greene was on his right.

Lee had maintained his advanced position with great spirit, but was at
length obliged to retire. He brought off his troops in good order across
a causeway which traversed the morass in front of Lord Stirling. As he
had promised, he was the last to leave the ground. Having formed his men
in a line, beyond the morass, he rode up to Washington. “Here, sir, are
my troops,” said he; “how is it your pleasure I should dispose of them?”
Washington saw that the poor fellows were exhausted by marching,
counter-marching, hard fighting and the intolerable heat of the weather:
he ordered Lee, therefore, to repair with them to the rear of
Englishtown, and assemble there all the scattered fugitives he might
meet with.

The batteries under the direction of Lord Stirling opened a brisk and
well-sustained fire upon the enemy; who, finding themselves warmly
opposed in front, attempted to turn the left flank of the Americans, but
were driven back by detached parties of infantry stationed there. They
then attempted the right; but here were met by General Greene, who had
planted his artillery under Knox, on a commanding ground, and not only
checked them but enfiladed those who were in front of the left wing.
Wayne too, with an advanced party posted in an orchard, and partly
sheltered by a barn, kept up a severe and well-directed fire upon the
enemy’s centre. Repeated attempts were made to dislodge him, but in
vain. Colonel Monckton of the royal grenadiers, who had distinguished
himself and been wounded in the battle of Long Island, now undertook to
drive Wayne from his post at the point of the bayonet. Having made a
brief harangue to his men, he led them on in column. Wayne’s men
reserved their fire, until Colonel Monckton, waving his sword, called
out to his grenadiers to charge. At that instant a sheeted volley laid
him low, and made great slaughter in his column, which was again
repulsed.

The enemy at length gave way, and fell back to the ground which Lee had
occupied in the morning. Here their flanks were secured by woods and
morasses, and their front could only be approached across a narrow
causeway.

Notwithstanding the difficulties of the position, Washington prepared to
attack it; ordering General Poor with his own and the Carolina brigade,
to move round upon their right, and General Woodford on their left;
while the artillery should gall them in front. Before these orders could
be carried into effect the day was at an end. Many of the soldiers had
sunk upon the ground, overcome by fatigue and the heat of the weather;
all needed repose. The troops, therefore, which had been in the advance,
were ordered to lie on their arms on the ground they occupied, so as to
be ready to make the attack by daybreak. The main army did the same, on
the field of action, to be at hand to support them. Washington lay on
his cloak at the foot of a tree, with Lafayette beside him, talking over
the strange conduct of Lee; whose disorderly retreat had come so near
being fatal to the army.

It was indeed a matter of general perplexity, to which the wayward
character of Lee greatly contributed. Some who recollected his previous
opposition to all plan of attack, almost suspected him of wilfully
aiming to procure a defeat. It would appear, however, that he had been
really surprised and thrown into confusion by a move of Sir Henry
Clinton, who, seeing the force under Lee descending on his rear from
Freehold heights, had suddenly turned upon it, aided by troops from
Knyphausen’s division, to oblige it to call to its assistance the
flanking parties under Morgan and Dickinson, which were threatening his
baggage train. So that Lee, instead of a mere covering party which he
had expected to cut off, had found himself front to front with the whole
rear division of the British army; and that too, on unfavorable ground,
with a deep ravine and a morass in his rear.

He endeavored to form his troops for action. Oswald’s artillery began to
play, and there was some skirmishing with the enemy’s light-horse, in
which they were repulsed. But mistakes occurred; orders were
misunderstood; one corps after another fell back, until the whole
retreated, almost without a struggle, before an inferior force. Lee,
himself, seemed to partake of the confusion; taking no pains to check
the retrograde movement, nor to send notice of it to the main body upon
which they were falling back.

What opinions Washington gave on the subject, in the course of his
conversation with the marquis, the latter does not tell us; after it was
ended, he wrapped himself in his cloak, and slept at the foot of the
tree, among his soldiers.

At daybreak the drums beat the reveillé. The troops roused themselves
from their heavy sleep, and prepared for action. To their surprise, the
enemy had disappeared: there was a deserted camp, in which were found
four officers and about forty privates, too severely wounded to be
conveyed away by the retreating army. Sir Henry Clinton, it appeared,
had allowed his wearied troops but short repose on the preceding night.
At ten o’clock, when the American forces were buried in their first
sleep, he had set forward to join the division under Knyphausen, which,
with the baggage train, having pushed on during the action, was far on
the road to Middletown. So silent had been his retreat, that it was
unheard by General Poor’s advance party, which lay near by.

The distance to which the enemy must by this time have attained, the
extreme heat of the weather, and the fatigued condition of the troops,
deterred Washington from continuing a pursuit through a country, where
the roads were deep and sandy, and there was great scarcity of water.
Besides, persons well acquainted with the country assured him that it
would be impossible to annoy the enemy in their embarkation, as he must
approach the place by a narrow passage, capable of being defended by a
few men against his whole force. Detaching General Maxwell’s brigade and
Morgan’s rifle corps, therefore, to hang on the rear of the enemy,
prevent depredation and encourage desertions, he determined to shape his
course with his main body by Brunswick toward the Hudson, lest Sir Henry
should have any design upon the posts there.

The American loss in the recent battle was eight officers and sixty-one
privates killed, and about one hundred and sixty wounded. Among the
slain were Lieutenant-colonel Bonner of Pennsylvania, and Major
Dickinson of Virginia, both greatly regretted.

The officers who had charge of the burying parties reported that they
found two hundred and forty-five non-commissioned officers and privates,
and four officers, left dead by the enemy on the field of battle. There
were fresh graves in the vicinity also, into which the enemy had hurried
their slain before retreating. The number of prisoners, including those
found wounded, was upwards of one hundred.

Some of the troops on both sides had perished in the morass, some were
found on the border of a stream which ran through it among alder bushes,
whither, overcome by heat, fatigue and thirst, they had crawled to drink
and die.

Among the gallant slain of the enemy was Colonel Monckton, who fell so
bravely when leading on his grenadiers. His remains were interred in the
burial-ground of the Freehold meeting-house, upon a stone of which
edifice his name is rudely cut.[139]

After giving his troops a day’s repose Washington decamped on the 30th.
His march lay through a country destitute of water, with deep, sandy
roads wearying to the feet, and reflecting the intolerable heat and
glare of a July sun. Many of the troops, harassed by previous fatigue,
gave out by the way. Some few died, and a number of horses were likewise
lost. Washington, ever considerate of the health and comfort of his men,
encamped near Brunswick on open, airy grounds, and gave them time to
repose; while Lieutenant-colonel Aaron Burr, at that time a young and
enterprising officer, was sent on a reconnoitring expedition, to learn
the movements and intentions of the enemy. He was authorized to despatch
trusty persons into New York to make observations, collect reports, and
get newspapers. Others were to be sent to the heights of Bergen, Weehawk
and Hoboken, which command a view of the bay and river, to observe the
situation of the enemy’s forces, and note whether any movement among the
shipping gave signs of an expedition up the Hudson; the immediate object
of solicitude.

Sir Henry Clinton with the royal army had arrived at the Highlands of
Navesink, in the neighborhood of Sandy Hook, on the 30th of June. He had
lost many men by desertion, Hessians especially, during his march
through the Jerseys, which, with his losses by killed, wounded and
captured, had diminished his army more than two thousand men. The storms
of the preceding winter had cut off the peninsula of Sandy Hook from the
main land, and formed a deep channel between them. Fortunately the
squadron of Lord Howe had arrived the day before and was at anchor
within the Hook. A bridge was immediately made across the channel with
the boats of the ships, over which the army passed to the Hook on the
5th of July, and thence was distributed.

It was now encamped in three divisions on Staten Island, Long Island,
and the island of New York: apparently without any immediate design of
offensive operations. There was a vigorous press in New York to man the
large ships and fit them for sea, but this was in consequence of a
report that a French fleet had arrived on the coast.

Relieved by this intelligence from all apprehensions of an expedition by
the enemy up the Hudson, Washington relaxed the speed of his movements,
and halted for a few days at Paramus, sparing his troops as much as
possible during the extreme summer heats.

CHAPTER XXXV.

CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LEE AND WASHINGTON RELATIVE TO THE AFFAIR OF
MONMOUTH—LEE ASKS A TRIAL BY COURT-MARTIAL—THE VERDICT—LEE’S
SUBSEQUENT HISTORY.

Having brought the army to a halt, we have time to notice a
correspondence between General Lee and Washington immediately subsequent
to the affair of Monmouth. The pride of the general had been deeply
wounded by the rebuke he had received on the field of battle. On the
following day (June 29th) he addressed a note to Washington on the
subject. By mistake it was dated July 1st. “From the knowledge I have of
your Excellency’s character,” writes he, “I must conclude that nothing
but the misinformation of some very stupid, or misrepresentation of some
very wicked person, could have occasioned your making use of so very
singular expressions as you did on my coming up to the ground where you
had taken post. They implied that I was guilty either of disobedience of
orders, want of conduct, or want of courage. Your Excellency will
therefore infinitely oblige me by letting me know on which of these
three articles you ground your charge. I ever had, and hope ever shall
have, the greatest respect and veneration for General Washington. I
think him endowed with many great and good qualities; but in this
instance, I must pronounce that he has been guilty of an act of cruel
injustice towards a man, who certainly has some pretensions to the
regard of every servant of this country. And I think, sir, I have a
right to demand some reparation for the injury committed; and, unless I
can obtain it, I must in justice to myself, when this campaign is
closed, which I believe will close the war, retire from the service at
the head of which is placed a man capable of offering such injuries. But
at the same time, in justice to you, I must repeat that I from my soul
believe that it is not a motion of your own breast, but instigated by
some of those dirty earwigs, who will for ever insinuate themselves near
persons high in office: for I really am convinced that when General
Washington acts from himself, no man in his army will have reason to
complain of injustice or indecorum.”

The following was Washington’s reply:

“Sir,—I received your letter (dated through mistake the 1st of July),
expressed as I conceive in terms highly improper. I am not conscious
of making use of any very singular expressions at the time of meeting
you, as you intimate. What I recollect to have said was dictated by
duty and warranted by the occasion. As soon as circumstances will
permit, you shall have an opportunity of justifying yourself to the
army, to Congress, to America, and to the world in general; or of
convincing them that you were guilty of a breach of orders, and of
misbehavior before the enemy on the 28th instant, in not attacking
them as you had been directed, and in making an unnecessary,
disorderly, and shameful retreat. I am,” &c., &c.

To this Lee rejoined, in a note, misdated 28th June. “Sir, you cannot
afford me greater pleasure than in giving me the opportunity of showing
to America the sufficiency of her respective servants. I trust that
temporary power of office, and the tinsel dignity attending it, will not
be able, by all the mists they can raise, to offuscate the bright rays
of truth. In the mean time, your Excellency can have no objection to my
retiring from the army,” &c.

Shortly after despatching this note, Lee addressed another to
Washington. “I have reflected on both your situation and mine,” writes
he, “and beg leave to observe, that it will be for our mutual
convenience that a court of inquiry should be immediately ordered: but I
could wish that it might be a court-martial; for, if the affair is drawn
into length, it may be difficult to collect the necessary evidences, and
perhaps might bring on a paper war betwixt the adherents to both
parties, which may occasion some disagreeable feuds on the continent;
for all are not my friends, nor all your admirers. I must entreat,
therefore, from your love of justice, that you will immediately exhibit
your charge, and that on the first halt I may be brought to a trial.”

Washington in reply acknowledged the receipt of the two last notes, and
added, “I have sent Colonel Scammel and the adjutant-general, to put you
under arrest, who will deliver you a copy of the charges on which you
will be tried.”

The following were the charges.

1st. Disobedience of orders, in not attacking the enemy on the 28th
June, agreeably to repeated instructions.

2d. Misbehavior before the enemy on the same day, by making an
unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat.

3d. Disrespect to the commander-in-chief in two letters, dated the 1st
of July, and the 28th of June.

A court-martial was accordingly formed on the 4th of July, at Brunswick,
the first halting place. It was composed of one major-general, four
brigadiers, and eight colonels, with Lord Stirling as president. It
moved with the army, and convened subsequently at Paramus, Peekskill,
and Northcastle, the trial lasting until the 12th of August. From the
time it commenced, Washington never mentioned Lee’s name when he could
avoid it, and when he could not, he mentioned it without the smallest
degree of acrimony or disrespect.

Lee, on the contrary, indulged his natural irritabilty of temper and
sharpness of tongue. When put on his guard against any intemperate
railings against Washington, as calculated to injure his cause, he
spurned at the advice. “No attack, it seems, can be made on General
Washington but it must recoil on the assailant. I never entertained the
most distant wish or intention of attacking General Washington. I have
ever honored and respected him as a man and a citizen; but if the circle
which surrounds him chooses to erect him into an infallible divinity, I
shall certainly prove a heretic; and if, great as he is, he can attempt
wounding every thing I ought to hold dear, he must thank his priests if
his deityship gets scratched in the scuffle.”[140]

In the repeated sessions of the court-martial and the long examinations
which took place, many of the unfavorable impressions first received,
concerning the conduct and motives of Lee, were softened. Some of the
officers in his detachment, who had made accusations against him to the
commander-in-chief previous to the trial, especially Generals Wayne and
Scott, were found not to have understood all the circumstances of the
case in which he was placed in his encounter with the rear division of
Sir Henry Clinton, and that that division had been largely reinforced by
troops from General Knyphausen.

Lee defended himself with ability. He contended that after the troops
had commenced to fall back, in consequence of a retrograde movement of
General Scott, he had intended to form them on the first advantageous
ground he could find, and that none such presented itself until he
reached the place where he met General Washington; on which very place
he had intended to make battle.

He denied that in the whole course of the day he had uttered the word
retreat. But this retreat, said he, though necessary, was brought about
contrary to my orders, contrary to my intention; and, if any thing can
deduct from my credit, it is, that I did not _order_ a retreat which was
so necessary.[141]

Judge Marshall observes of the variety of reasons given by Lee in
justification of his retreat, “if they do not absolutely establish its
propriety, they give it so questionable a form, as to render it probable
that a public examination never would have taken place, could his proud
spirit have stooped to offer explanation instead of outrage to the
commander-in-chief.”

The result of the prolonged and tedious investigation was, that he was
found guilty of all the charges exhibited against him; the second
charge, however, was softened by omitting the word _shameful_, and
convicting him of making an “unnecessary, and in some instances a
disorderly retreat.” He was sentenced to be suspended from all command
for one year: the sentence to be approved or set aside by Congress.

We must again anticipate dates, to dispose briefly of the career of
General Lee, who is not connected with subsequent events of the
Revolution. Congress were more than three months in coming to a decision
on the proceedings of the court-martial. As the House always sat with
closed doors, the debates on the subject are unknown, but are said to
have been warm. Lee urged for speedy action, and regretted that the
people at large could not be admitted to form an audience, when the
discussion was entered into of the justice or iniquity, wisdom or
absurdity of the sentence that had been passed upon him. At length, on
the 5th of December, the sentence was approved in a very thin session of
Congress, fifteen members voting in the affirmative and seven in the
negative.

From that time Lee was unmeasured in his abuse of Washington, and his
reprobation of the court-martial, which he termed a “court of
inquisition.” He published a long article in the newspapers relative to
the trial and to the affair at Monmouth, calculated to injure
Washington. “I have neither the leisure nor inclination,” observes the
latter, “to enter the lists with him in a newspaper; and so far as his
production points to personality, I can and do from my inmost soul
despise it. * * * * It became a part of General Lee’s plan, from the
moment of his arrest, though it was an event solicited by himself, to
have the world believe that he was a persecuted man, and party was at
the bottom of it. But however convenient it may have been for his
purposes to establish this belief, I defy him, or his most zealous
partisans, to adduce a single instance in proof of it, unless bringing
him to trial, at his own request, be considered in this light. I can do
more; I will defy any person, out of my own family, to say, that I have
ever mentioned his name, if it was to be avoided; and when not, that I
have not studiously declined expressing any sentiment of him or his
behavior. How far this conduct accords with his, let his own breast
decide. * * * * * As I never entertained any jealousy of him, so neither
did I ever do more than common civility and proper respect to his rank
required, to conciliate his good opinion. His temper and plans were too
versatile and violent to attract my admiration; and, that I have escaped
the venom of his tongue and pen so long, is more to be wondered at than
applauded; as it is a favor of which no officer, under whose immediate
command he ever served, has had the happiness, if happiness can be thus
denominated, of boasting.”[142]

Lee’s aggressive tongue at length involved him in a quarrel with Colonel
Laurens, one of Washington’s aides, a high-spirited young gentleman, who
felt himself bound to vindicate the honor of his chief. A duel took
place, and Lee was wounded in the side.

Towards spring he retired to his estate in Berkley County in Virginia,
“to learn to hoe tobacco, which,” observes he with a sarcastic innuendo
at Washington, “is the best school to form a consummate _General_. This
is a discovery I have lately made.”

He led a kind of hermit life on his estate: dogs and horses were his
favorite companions. His house is described as being a mere shell,
destitute of comforts and conveniences. For want of partitions the
different parts were designated by lines chalked on the floor. In one
corner was his bed; in another were his books; his saddles and harness
in a third; a fourth served as a kitchen.

“Sir,” said he to a visitor, “it is the most convenient and economical
establishment in the world. The lines of chalk which you see on the
floor, mark the divisions of the apartments, and I can sit in any corner
and overlook the whole without moving from my chair.”

In this retirement he solaced his mortification and resentment by
exercising his caustic pen in “Queries Political and Military,” intended
to disparage the merits and conduct of Washington, and which were
published in a Maryland newspaper. His attempts, it is needless to say,
were fallacious, and only recoiled on his own head.

The term of his suspension had expired, when a rumor reached him that
Congress intended to take away his commission. He was in bodily pain at
the time; his horses were at the door for an excursion of business; the
intelligence “ruffled his temper beyond all bounds.” In his hurry and
heat, without attempting to ascertain the truth of the report, he
scrawled the following note to the President of Congress: “Sir, I
understand that it is in contemplation of Congress, on the principle of
economy, to strike me out of their service. Congress must know very
little of me, if they suppose that I would accept of their money, since
the confirmation of the wicked and infamous sentence which was passed
upon me. I am, sir,” &c.

This insolent note occasioned his prompt dismissal from the service. He
did not complain of it; but in a subsequent and respectful letter to the
president, explained the mistaken information which had produced his
note, and the state of body and mind in which it was written. “But,
sir,” added he, “I must entreat, in the acknowledging of the impropriety
and indecorum of my conduct in this affair, it may not be supposed that
I mean to court a restoration to the rank I held; so far from it, that I
do assure you, had not the incident fallen out, I should have requested
Congress to accept my resignation, as, for obvious reasons, whilst the
army is continued in its present circumstances, I could not serve with
safety and dignity,” &c.

Though bitter in his enmities, Lee had his friendships, and was warm and
constant in them as far as his capricious humors would allow. There was
nothing crafty or mean in his character, nor do we think he ever engaged
in the low intrigues of the cabal; but he was a disappointed and
embittered man, and the gall of bitterness overflowed his generous
qualities. In such a discordant state of feeling, he was not a man for
the sweet solitude of the country. He became weary of his Virginia
estate; though in one of the most fertile regions of the Shenandoah
Valley. His farm was mismanaged; his agents were unfaithful, he entered
into negotiations to dispose of his property, in the course of which he
visited Philadelphia. On arriving there, he was taken with chills,
followed by a fever, which went on increasing in violence, and
terminated fatally. A soldier even unto the end, warlike scenes mingled
with the delirium of his malady. In his dying moments he fancied himself
on the field of battle. The last words he was heard to utter were,
“Stand by me, my brave grenadiers!”

He left a will and testament strongly marked by his peculiarities. There
are bequests to intimates of horses, weapons, and sums to purchase rings
of affection; ample and generous provisions for domestics, one of whom
he styles his “old and faithful servant, or rather, humble friend.” His
landed estate in Berkley was to be divided into three equal parts, two
of them between two of his former aides-de-camp, and the other third
between two gentlemen to whom he felt under obligations. All his
residuary property to go to his sister Sidney Lee and her heirs.

Eccentric to the last, one clause of his will regards his sepulture: “I
desire most earnestly that I may not be buried in any church or
churchyard, or within a mile of any Presbyterian or Anabaptist
meeting-house; for, since I have resided in this country, I have kept so
much bad company while living, that I do not choose to continue it when
dead.”

This part of his will was not complied with. He was buried with military
honors in the cemetery of Christ church; and his funeral was attended by
the highest civic and military characters, and a large concourse of
citizens.

The magnanimity exhibited by Washington in regard to Lee while living,
continued after his death. He never spoke of him with asperity, but did
justice to his merits, acknowledging that “he possessed many great
qualities.”

In after years, there was a proposition to publish the manuscripts of
General Lee, and Washington was consulted in the matter, as there might
be hostile articles among them which he might wish to have omitted. “I
can have no request to make concerning the work,” writes he in reply. “I
never had a difference with that gentleman but on public grounds; and my
conduct towards him on this occasion was such, only, as I felt myself
indispensably bound to adopt in discharge of the public trust reposed in
me. If this produced in him unfavorable sentiments of me, I can never
consider the conduct I pursued, with respect to him, either wrong or
improper, however I may regret that it may have been differently viewed
by him, and that it excited his anger and animadversions. Should there
appear in General Lee’s writings any thing injurious or unfriendly to
me, the impartial and dispassionate world must decide how far I deserved
it from the general tenor of my conduct.”

CHAPTER XXXVI.

ARRIVAL OF A FRENCH FLEET—CORRESPONDENCE OF WASHINGTON AND THE COUNT
D’ESTAING—PLANS OF THE COUNT—PERTURBATION AT NEW YORK—EXCITEMENT IN
THE FRENCH FLEET—EXPEDITION AGAINST RHODE ISLAND—OPERATIONS BY SEA
AND LAND—FAILURE OF THE EXPEDITION—IRRITATION BETWEEN THE ALLIED
FORCES—CONSIDERATE LETTER OF WASHINGTON TO THE COUNT D’ESTAING.

While encamped at Paramus, Washington, in the night of the 13th of July,
received a letter from Congress informing him of the arrival of a French
fleet on the coast; instructing him to concert measures with the
commander, the Count D’Estaing, for offensive operations by sea and
land, and empowering him to call on the States from New Hampshire to New
Jersey inclusive, to aid with their militia.

The fleet in question was composed of twelve ships of the line and six
frigates, with a land force of four thousand men. On board of it came
Mons. Gerard, minister from France to the United States, and the Hon.
Silas Deane, one of the American ministers who had effected the late
treaty of alliance. The fleet had sailed from Toulon on the 13th of
April. After struggling against adverse winds for eighty-seven or
eighty-eight days, it had made its appearance off the northern extremity
of the Virginia coast, and anchored at the mouth of the Delaware, on the
eighth of July. Thence the count despatched a letter to Washington,
dated at sea. “I have the honor of imparting to your Excellency,” writes
he, “the arrival of the king’s fleet, charged by his majesty with the
glorious task of giving his allies, the United States of America, the
most striking proofs of his affection. Nothing will be wanting to my
happiness, if I can succeed in it. It is augmented by the consideration
of concerting my operations with a General such as your Excellency. The
talents and great actions of General Washington have insured him, in the
eyes of all Europe, the title truly sublime of Deliverer of America,”
&c.

The count was unfortunate in the length of his voyage. Had he arrived in
ordinary time, he might have entrapped Lord Howe’s squadron in the
river; co-operated with Washington in investing the British army by sea
and land, and, by cutting off its retreat to New York, compelled it to
surrender.

Finding the enemy had evacuated both city and river, the count sent up
the French minister and Mr. Deane to Philadelphia in a frigate, and
then, putting to sea, continued along the coast. A little earlier, and
he might have intercepted the squadron of Lord Howe on its way to New
York. It had had but a very few days the advantage of him, and when he
arrived with his fleet in the road outside of Sandy Hook, he descried
the British ships quietly anchored inside of it.

A frank and cordial correspondence took place forthwith between the
count and Washington, and a plan of action was concerted between them by
the intervention of confidential officers; Washington’s aides-de-camp,
Laurens and Hamilton, boarding the fleet while off the Hook, and Major
Chouin, a French officer of merit, repairing to the American
head-quarters.

The first idea of the count was to enter at Sandy Hook, and capture or
destroy the British fleet composed of six ships of the line, four fifty
gun ships, and a number of frigates and smaller vessels; should he
succeed in this, which his greatly superior force rendered probable, he
was to proceed against the city, with the co-operation of the American
forces. To be at hand for such purpose, Washington crossed the Hudson,
with his army, at King’s Ferry, and encamped at White Plains about the
20th of July.

In the mean time New York was once more in a violent perturbation.
“British seamen,” says a writer of the times, “endured the
mortification, for the first time, of seeing a British fleet blocked up
and insulted in their own harbor, and the French flag flying triumphant
without. And this was still more embittered and aggravated, by beholding
every day vessels under English colors captured under their very eyes by
the enemy.”[143] The army responded to their feelings; many royalists of
the city, too, hastened to offer their services as volunteers; there was
in short, a prodigious stir in every department, military and naval.

On the other hand, the French officers and crews were in the highest
state of excitement and exultation. The long low point of Sandy Hook was
all that intervened between them and a splendid triumph, and they
anticipated the glory of “delivering America from the English colors
which they saw waving on the other side of a simple barrier of sand,
upon so great a crowd of masts.”[144]

Several experienced American pilots and masters of vessels, however, who
had accompanied Colonels Laurens and Hamilton on board of the fleet,
declared that there was not sufficient depth of water on the bar to
admit the safe passage of the largest ships one of which carried 80 and
another 90 guns: the attempt therefore, was reluctantly abandoned; and
the ships anchored about four miles off, near Shrewsbury on the Jersey
coast, taking in provisions and water.

The enterprise which the American and French commanders deemed next
worthy of a combined operation, was the recapture of Rhode Island
proper, that it is to say, the island which gives its name to the
State, and which the enemy had made one of their military depôts and
strongholds. In anticipation of such an enterprise, Washington on the
17th of July wrote to General Sullivan, who commanded at Providence,
ordering him to make the necessary preparations for a descent from the
mainland upon the island, and authorizing him to call in
reinforcements of New England militia. He subsequently sent to his aid
the Marquis Lafayette with two brigades (Varnum’s and Glover’s).
Quartermaster-general Greene also was detached for the service, being
a native of the island, well acquainted with its localities, and
having great influence among its inhabitants. Sullivan was instructed
to form his whole force, Continental, State and militia, into two
equal divisions, one to be commanded by Greene, the other by
Lafayette.

On the 22d of July, the French fleet, having finished taking in its
supplies, appeared again in full force off the bar at Sandy Hook. The
British, who supposed they had only been waiting on the Shrewsbury coast
for the high tides of the latter part of July, now prepared for a
desperate conflict; and, indeed, had the French fleet been enabled to
enter, it is difficult to conceive a more terrible and destructive
struggle than would have ensued between these gallant and deadly rivals,
with their powerful armaments brought side to side, and cramped up in so
confined a field of action.

D’Estaing, however, had already determined his course. After a few
demonstrations off the harbor, he stood away to the eastward, and on the
29th arrived off Point Judith, coming to anchor within five miles of
Newport.

Rhode Island (proper), the object of this expedition, is about sixteen
miles long, running deep into the great Narraganset Bay. Seaconnet
Channel separates it on the east from the mainland, and on the west the
main channel passes between it and Conanicut Island. The town of Newport
is situated near the south end of the island, facing the west, with
Conanicut Island in front of it. It was protected by batteries and a
small naval force. Here General Sir Robert Pigott, who commanded in the
island, had his head-quarters. The force under him was about six
thousand strong, variously posted about the island, some in works at the
north end, but the greater part within strongly intrenched lines
extending across the island, about three miles from the town. General
Greene hastened from Providence on hearing of the arrival of the fleet
of Count D’Estaing, and went on board of it at the anchorage to concert
a plan of operations. Some questions of etiquette and precedence rose
between them in settling the mode in which the attack was to be
conducted. It was at length agreed that the fleet should force its way
into the harbor at the same time that the Americans approached by land,
and that the landing of the troops from the ships on the west side of
the island should take place at the same time that the Americans should
cross Seaconnet Channel, and land on the east side near the north end.
This combined operation was to have been carried promptly into effect,
but was postponed until the 10th of August, to give time for the
reinforcements sent by Washington to arrive. The delay was fatal to the
enterprise.

On the 8th, the Count D’Estaing entered the harbor and passed up the
main channel, exchanging a cannonade with the batteries as he passed,
and anchored a little above the town, between Goat and Conanicut
Islands. The English, on his approach, burnt or scuttled three frigates
and some smaller vessels, which would otherwise have been captured.
General Sullivan, to be ready for the concerted attack, had moved down
from Providence to the neighborhood of Howland’s Ferry, on the east side
of Seaconnet passage.

The British troops stationed opposite on the north end of the island,
fearful of being cut off, evacuated their works in the night of the 8th,
and drew into the lines at Newport.

Sullivan, seeing the works thus abandoned, could not resist the
temptation to cross the channel in flat-bottomed boats on the morning of
the 9th, and take possession of them.

This sudden movement, a day in advance of the concerted time, and
without due notice given to the count, surprised and offended him,
clashing with his notions of etiquette and punctilio. He, however,
prepared to co-operate, and was ordering out his boats for the purpose,
when, about two o’clock in the day, his attention was called to a great
fleet of ships standing toward Newport. It was, in fact, the fleet of
Lord Howe. That gallant nobleman had heard of the danger of Newport, and
being reinforced by four stout ships, part of a squadron coming out
under Admiral Byron, had hastened to its relief; though still inferior
in force to the French admiral. The delay of the concerted attack had
enabled him to arrive in time. The wind set directly into the harbor.
Had he entered promptly the French would have been placed between two
fires, from his ships and the batteries, and cramped up in a confined
channel where their largest ships had no room to operate. His lordship,
however, merely stood in near the land, communicated with General
Pigott, and having informed himself exactly of the situation of the
French fleet, came to anchor at Point Judith, some distance from the
south-west entrance of the bay.

In the night the wind changed to the north-east. The count hastened to
avail himself of the error of the British admiral. Favored by the wind,
he stood out of the harbor at eight o’clock in the morning to give the
enemy battle where he should have good sea room; previously sending word
to General Sullivan, who had advanced the preceding afternoon to Quaker
Hill, about ten miles north of Newport, that he would land his promised
troops and marines, and co-operate with him on his return.

The French ships were severely cannonaded as they passed the batteries,
but without material damage. Forming in order of battle, they bore down
upon the fleet of Lord Howe, confidently anticipating a victory from
their superiority of force. The British ships slipt their cables at
their approach, and likewise formed in line of battle, but his lordship
avoided an encounter while the enemy had the weathergage. To gain this
on the one part, and retain it on the other, the two fleets manœuvred
throughout the day, standing to the southward, and gradually
disappearing from the anxious eyes of the belligerent forces on Rhode
Island.

The army of Sullivan, now left to itself before Newport, amounted to ten
thousand men, having received the militia reinforcements. Lafayette
advised the delay of hostile operations until the return of D’Estaing,
but the American commander piqued and chagrined at the departure of his
allies, determined to commence the siege immediately, without waiting
for his tardy aid. On the twelfth, however, came on a tempest of wind
and rain, which raged for two days and nights with unexampled violence.
Tents were blown down; several soldiers and many horses perished, and a
great part of the ammunition recently dealt out to the troops was
destroyed. On the 14th, the weather cleared up and the sun shone
brightly, but the army was worn down and dispirited. Had the British
troops sallied forth at this juncture hale and fresh from comfortable
quarters, it might have fared badly with their weatherbeaten besiegers.
The latter, however, being unmolested, had time to breathe and refit
themselves. The day was passed in drying their clothes, cleaning their
arms, and putting themselves in order for action. By the next morning
they were again on the alert. Expecting the prompt return of the French,
they now took post on Honeyman’s Hill, about two miles from the British
lines, and began to construct batteries, form lines of communication,
and make regular approaches. The British were equally active in
strengthening their defences. There was casual cannonading on each side,
but nothing of consequence. Several days elapsed without the
reappearance of the French. The situation of the besiegers was growing
critical, when, on the evening of the 19th, they descried the expected
fleet standing toward the harbor. All now was exultation in the camp.
Should the French with their ships and troops attack the town by sea and
land on the one side, while the Americans assailed it on the other, the
surrender of the place was inevitable.

These sanguine anticipations, however, were shortlived. The French fleet
was in a shattered and forlorn condition. After sailing from before
Newport, on the 20th, it had manœuvred for two days with the British
fleet, each unwilling to enter into action without having the
weathergage. While thus manœuvring, the same furious storm which had
raged on shore separated and dispersed them with fearful ravage. Some
single encounters of scattered ships subsequently took place, but
without definite result. All were too much tempest-tost and disabled to
make good fight. Lord Howe with such of his ships as he could collect
bore away to New York to refit, and the French admiral was now before
Newport, but in no plight or mood for fighting.

In a letter to General Sullivan, he informed him that pursuant to the
orders of his sovereign and the advice of his officers, he was bound for
Boston, being instructed to repair to that port, should he meet with
misfortune, or a superior British force appear upon the coast.

Dismayed at this intelligence, which threatened ruin and disgrace to the
enterprise, Sullivan wrote a letter of remonstrance to the count, and
General Greene and the Marquis Lafayette repaired with it on board of
the admiral’s ship, to enforce it by their personal exertions. They
represented to the count the certainty of carrying the place in two
days, by a combined attack; and the discouragement and reproach that
would follow a failure on this their first attempt at co-operation; an
attempt, too, for which the Americans had made such great and expensive
preparations, and on which they had indulged such sanguine hopes. These
and other considerations equally urgent had their weight with the count,
and he was inclined to remain and pursue the enterprise, but was
overruled by the principal officers of his fleet. The fact is, that he
was properly a land officer, and they had been indignant at his having a
nautical command over their heads. They were glad, therefore, of any
opportunity to thwart and mortify him; and now insisted on his complying
with his letter of instructions, and sailing for Boston. On Lafayette’s
taking leave, the count assured him that he would only remain in Boston
time enough to give his men repose after their long sufferings, and
refit his ships; and trusted to leave the port again within three weeks
after entering it, “to fight for the glory of the French name and the
interests of America.”[145]

The marquis and General Greene returned at midnight, and made a report
of the ill success of their mission. Sullivan sent another letter on the
following day, urging D’Estaing in any event to leave his land forces.
All the general officers, excepting Lafayette, joined in signing and
sending a protest against the departure of the fleet for Boston, as
derogatory to the honor of France, contrary to the intention of his most
Christian majesty and the interest of his nation, destructive of the
welfare of the United States, and highly injurious to the alliance
formed between the two nations. The fleet was already under way when
Colonel Laurens got on board of the admiral’s ship with the letter and
protest. The count was deeply offended by the tone of the protest, and
the manner in which it was conveyed to him. He declared to Colonel
Laurens that “this paper imposed on the commander of the king’s squadron
the painful, but necessary law of profound silence.” He continued his
course to Boston.

At the sailing of the ships there was a feeling of exasperation
throughout the camp. Sullivan gave vent to his vexation in a general
order on the 24th, wherein he observed: “The general cannot help
lamenting the sudden and unexpected departure of the French fleet, as he
finds it has a tendency to discourage some who placed great dependence
upon the assistance of it; though he can by no means suppose the army,
or any part of it, endangered by this movement. He yet hopes the event
will prove America able to procure that by her own arms which her allies
refuse to assist in obtaining.”

On cooler reflection he thought proper, in subsequent orders, to explain
away the rash and unwarrantable imputation on French loyalty contained
in the foregoing document, but a general feeling of irritation against
the French continued to prevail in the army.

As had been foretold, the departure of the fleet was a death-blow to the
enterprise. Between two and three thousand volunteers abandoned the camp
in the course of four and twenty hours; others continued to go off;
desertions occurred among the militia, and in a few days the number of
besiegers did not exceed that of the besieged.

All thoughts of offensive operations were now at an end. The question
was how best to extricate the army from its perilous position. The
harbors of Rhode Island being now free, and open to the enemy,
reinforcements might pour in from New York, and render the withdrawal of
the troops disastrous, if not impossible. To prepare for rapid retreat,
if necessary, all the heavy artillery that could be spared, was sent off
from the island. On the 28th it was determined, in a council of war, to
fall back to the military works at the north end of the island, and
fortify there, until it should be known whether the French fleet would
soon return to their assistance, the Marquis Lafayette setting off with
all speed to have an interview with the Count D’Estaing, and ascertain
the fact.

General Sullivan broke up his camp, and commenced his retreat that very
night, between nine and ten o’clock; the army retiring by two roads; the
rear covered by parties of light troops, under Colonels Livingston and
Laurens.

Their retreat was not discovered until daylight, when a pursuit was
commenced. The covering parties behaved gallantly making frequent
stands, abandoning one eminence only to take post on another, and
keeping up a retreating fire that checked the advance of the enemy.
After a series of skirmishes they were pressed back to the fortified
grounds on the north end of the island; but Sullivan had already taken
post there, on Batt’s Hill, the main body of his army being drawn up in
order of battle, with strong works in their rear, and a redoubt in front
of the right wing.

The British now took post on an advantageous height called Quaker Hill,
a little more than a mile from the American front, whence they commenced
a cannonade which was briskly returned. Skirmishing ensued until about
ten o’clock, when two British sloops-of-war and some small vessels
having gained a favorable position, the enemy’s troops, under cover of
their fire, advanced in force to turn the right flank of the American
army, and capture the redoubt which protected it. This was bravely
defended by General Greene: a sharp action ensued, which had nearly
become a general one; between two and three hundred men were killed on
each side; the British at length drew back to their artillery and works
on Quaker Hill, and a mutual cannonade was resumed and kept up until
night.

On the following day (29th) the enemy continued his distant firing, but
waited for reinforcements before coming to close quarters. In the mean
time, General Sullivan had received intelligence that Lord Howe had
again put to sea with the design, no doubt, to attempt the relief of
Newport and then followed another report that a fleet with troops was
actually off Block Island, and must arrive almost immediately in the
harbor.

Under these circumstances it was determined to abandon Rhode Island. To
do so with safety, however, required the utmost caution, as the hostile
sentries were within four hundred yards of each other, and any
suspicious movements would be easily discovered and reported to the
British commander. The position on Batt’s Hill favored a deception.
Tents were brought forward and pitched in sight of the enemy, and a
great part of the troops employed throughout the day in throwing up
works, as if the post was to be resolutely maintained; at the same time,
the heavy baggage and stores were quietly conveyed away in the rear of
the hill, and ferried across the bay. As soon as it was dark the tents
were struck, fires were lighted at various points, the troops withdrawn,
and in a few hours the whole were transported across the channel to the
mainland. In the height of the transit, Lafayette arrived. He had ridden
from the island to Boston, a distance of nearly seventy miles, in seven
hours, and had conferred with the French admiral.

D’Estaing had convinced him of the inadequacy of his naval force, but
had made a spirited offer of leading his troops by land to co-operate
with the Americans. Eager to be in time for any engagement that might
take place, Lafayette had spurred back still more speedily than he went,
but was disappointed and mortified at finding all the fighting over. He
arrived in time, however, to bring off the pickets and covering parties,
amounting to a thousand men, which he did in such excellent order, that
not a man was left behind, nor the smallest article lost.

The whole army had crossed by two o’clock in the morning unperceived by
the enemy, and had reason to congratulate themselves on the course they
had taken, and the quickness of their movements; for the very next day
Sir Henry Clinton arrived at Newport in a light squadron, with a
reinforcement of four thousand men, a naval and land force that might
effectually have cut off Sullivan’s retreat, had he lingered on the
island.

Sir Henry, finding he had arrived a day too late, returned to New York,
but first detached Major-general Sir Charles Grey with the troops, on a
ravaging expedition to the eastward; chiefly against ports which were
the haunts of privateers. This was the same general that had surprised
Wayne in the preceding year, and effected such slaughter among his men
with the bayonet. He appears to have been fitted for rough and merciless
warfare. In the course of his present expedition he destroyed more than
seventy vessels in Acushnet River, some of them privateers with their
prizes, others peaceful merchant ships. New Bedford and Fair Haven
having been made military and naval deposits, were laid waste, wharves
demolished, rope-walks, storehouses and mills, with several private
dwellings, wrapped in flames. Similar destruction was effected at the
Island of Martha’s Vineyard, a resort of privateers; where the
inhabitants were disarmed, and a heavy contribution levied upon them in
sheep and cattle. Having thus ravaged the coasts of New England, the
squadron returned laden with inglorious spoil to New York.

Lord Howe, also, who had sailed for Boston in the hope of intercepting
the Count D’Estaing, and had reached there on the 30th of August, found
the French fleet safely sheltered in Nantasket Road, and protected by
American batteries erected on commanding points. He also returned to New
York, and shortly afterward, availing himself of a permission granted
him some time before by government, resigned the command of the fleet to
Admiral Gambier, to hold it until the arrival of Admiral Byron. His
lordship then returned to England, having rendered important services by
his operations along the American coast and on the waters of the
Delaware, and presenting a strong contrast, in his incessant activity,
to the easy indolence and self-indulgence of his brother.

The failure of the combined enterprise against Rhode Island was a cause
of universal chagrin and disappointment, but to none more so than to
Washington, as is evident from the following passage of a letter to his
brother, John Augustine:

“An unfortunate storm, and some measures taken in consequence of it by
the French admiral, blasted in one moment the fairest hopes that ever
were conceived; and, from a moral certainty of success, rendered it a
matter of rejoicing to get our own troops safe off the island. If the
garrison of that place, consisting of nearly six thousand men, had been
captured, as there was, in appearance at least, a hundred to one in
favor of it, it would have given the finishing blow to British
pretensions of sovereignty over this country; and would, I am persuaded,
have hastened the departure of the troops in New York, as fast as their
canvas wings would carry them away.”

But what gave Washington the greatest solicitude, was the effect of this
disappointment upon the public mind. The failure of the enterprise was
generally attributed to the departure of the French fleet from Newport,
and there was at one time such popular exasperation, that it was feared
the means of repairing the French ships at Boston would be withheld.
Count D’Estaing, and the other French officers, on their part, were
irritated by the protests of the American officers, and the expressions
in Sullivan’s general order derogatory to French loyalty. The Count
addressed a letter to Congress, explaining and vindicating his conduct
subsequent to his arrival on the coast.

Washington regarded this mutual irritation which had so suddenly sprung
up between the army and the fleet, with the most poignant anxiety. He
wrote to Sullivan and Greene on the subject, urging them to suppress the
feuds and jealousies which had already arisen, to conceal as much as
possible from the soldiery and public, the misunderstandings which had
occurred between the officers of the two nations; to discountenance all
illiberal or unfriendly observations on the part of the army, and to
cultivate the utmost harmony and good-will.

Congress, also, endeavored to suppress the protest of the officers of
Sullivan’s army which had given so much offence; and, in a public
resolution, expressed their perfect approbation of the conduct of the
count, and their sense of his zeal and attachment.

Nothing perhaps tended more to soothe his wounded sensibilities, than a
letter from Washington, couched in the most delicate and considerate
language. “If the deepest regret, that the best concerted enterprise and
bravest exertions should have been rendered fruitless by a disaster,
which human prudence was incapable of foreseeing or preventing, can
alleviate disappointment, you may be assured that the whole continent
sympathizes with you. It will be a consolation to you to reflect, that
the thinking part of mankind do not form their judgment from events; and
that their equity will ever attach equal glory to those actions which
deserve success, and those which have been crowned with it. It is in the
trying circumstances to which your excellency has been exposed, that the
virtues of a great mind are displayed in their brightest lustre, and
that a general’s character is better known than in the hour of victory.
It was yours, by every title which can give it; and the adverse element,
which robbed you of your prize, can never deprive you of the glory due
to you.”

CHAPTER XXXVII.

INDIAN WARFARE—DESOLATION OF THE VALLEY OF WYOMING—MOVEMENTS IN NEW
YORK—COUNTER MOVEMENTS OF WASHINGTON—FORAGING PARTIES OF THE
ENEMY—BAYLOR’S DRAGOONS MASSACRED AT OLD TAPPAN—BRITISH EXPEDITION
AGAINST LITTLE EGG HARBOR—MASSACRE OF PULASKI’S INFANTRY—RETALIATION
ON DONOP’S RANGERS—ARRIVAL OF ADMIRAL BYRON—ENDEAVORS TO ENTRAP
D’ESTAING, BUT IS DISAPPOINTED—EXPEDITION AGAINST ST.
LUCIA—EXPEDITION AGAINST GEORGIA—CAPTURE OF SAVANNAH—GEORGIA
SUBDUED—GENERAL LINCOLN SENT TO COMMAND IN THE SOUTH.

While hostilities were carried on in the customary form along the
Atlantic borders, Indian warfare, with all its atrocity, was going on in
the interior. The British post at Niagara was its cradle. It was the
common rallying place of tories, refugees, savage warriors, and other
desperadoes of the frontiers. Hither Brant, the noted Indian chief, had
retired after the repulse of St. Leger at Fort Schuyler, to plan further
mischief; and here was concerted the memorable incursion into the Valley
of Wyoming, suggested by tory refugees, who had until recently inhabited
it.

The Valley of Wyoming is a beautiful region lying along the Susquehanna.
Peaceful as was its aspect, it had been the scene of sanguinary feuds
prior to the Revolution, between the people of Pennsylvania and
Connecticut, who both laid claim to it. Seven rural forts or
block-houses, situated on various parts of the valley, had been
strongholds during these territorial contests, and remained as places of
refuge for women and children in times of Indian ravage.

The expedition now set on foot against it, in June, was composed of
Butler’s rangers, Johnson’s royal greens, and Brant with his Indian
braves. Their united force, about eleven hundred strong, was conducted
by Colonel John Butler, renowned in Indian warfare. Passing down the
Chemung and Susquehanna in canoes, they landed at a place called Three
Islands, struck through the wilderness to a gap or a “notch” of the
mountains, by which they entered the Valley of Wyoming. Butler made his
head-quarters at one of the strongholds already mentioned, called
Wintermoot’s Fort, from a tory family of the same name. Hence he sent
out his marauding parties to plunder and lay waste the country.

Rumors of this intended invasion had reached the valley some time before
the appearance of the enemy, and had spread great consternation. Most of
the sturdy yeomanry were absent in the army. A company of sixty men,
enlisted under an act of Congress, and hastily and imperfectly
organized, yet styling themselves regulars, took post at one of the
strongholds called Forty Fort; where they were joined by about three
hundred of the most efficient of the yeomanry, armed and equipped in
rude rustic style. In this emergency old men and boys volunteered to
meet the common danger, posting themselves in the smaller forts in which
women and children had taken refuge. Colonel Zebulon Butler, an officer
of the continental army, took the general command. Several officers
arrived from the army, having obtained leave to repair home for the
protection of their families. They brought word that a reinforcement,
sent by Washington, was on its way.

In the mean time the marauding parties sent out by Butler and Brant were
spreading desolation through the valley; farm houses were wrapped in
flames; husbandmen were murdered while at work in the fields; all who
had not taken refuge in the fort were threatened with destruction. What
was to be done? Wait for the arrival of the promised reinforcement, or
attempt to check the ravage? The latter was rashly determined on.

Leaving the women and children in Forty Fort, Colonel Zebulon Butler
with his men sallied forth on the 3d of July, and made a rapid move upon
Wintermoot Fort, hoping to come upon it by surprise. They found the
enemy drawn up in front of it, in a line extending from the river to a
marsh; Colonel John Butler and his rangers, with Johnson’s royal greens,
on the left; Indians and tories on the right.

The Americans formed a line of the same extent; the regulars under
Colonel Butler on the right flank, resting on the river, the militia
under Colonel Denison on the left wing, on the marsh. A sharp fire was
opened from right to left; after a few volleys the enemy in front of
Colonel Butler began to give way. The Indians, however, throwing
themselves into the marsh, turned the left flank of the Americans, and
attacked the militia in the rear. Denison, finding himself exposed to a
cross fire, sought to change his position, and gave the word to fall
back. It was mistaken for an order to retreat. In an instant the left
wing turned and fled; all attempts to rally it were vain; the panic
extended to the right wing. The savages, throwing down their rifles,
rushed on with tomahawk and scalping-knife, and a horrible massacre
ensued. Some of the Americans escaped to Forty Fort, some swam the
river; others broke their way across the swamp, and climbed the
mountain; some few were taken prisoners; but the greater number were
slaughtered.

The desolation of the valley was now completed; fields were laid waste,
houses burnt, and their inhabitants murdered. According to the British
accounts, upwards of four hundred of the yeomanry of Wyoming were slain,
but the women and children were spared, “and desired to retire to their
rebel friends.”[146]

Upwards of five thousand persons, says the same account, fled in the
utmost distress and consternation, seeking refuge in the settlements on
the Lehigh and the Delaware. After completing this horrible work of
devastation, the enemy retired before the arrival of the troops detached
by Washington.

We might have swelled our narrative of this affair by many individual
acts of atrocity committed by royalists on their old friends and
neighbors, and even their near relatives; but we forbear to darken our
page by such stigmas on human nature. Suffice it to say, it was one of
the most atrocious outrages perpetrated throughout the war; and, as
usual, the tories concerned in it were the most vindictive and merciless
of the savage crew. Of the measures taken in consequence we shall speak
hereafter.

For a great part of the summer, Washington had remained encamped at
White Plains, watching the movements of the enemy at New York. Early in
September he observed a great stir of preparation; cannon and military
stores were embarked, and a fleet of one hundred and forty transports
were ready to make sail. What was their destination? Washington deplored
the facility possessed by the enemy of transporting their troops from
point to point by sea. “Their rapid movements,” said he, “enable them to
give us solicitude for the safety of remote points, to succor which we
should have to make ruinous marches, and after all, perhaps, find
ourselves the dupes of a feint.”

There were but two capital objects which they could have in view, beside
the defeat and dispersion of his army. One was to get possession of the
forts and passes of the Highlands; the other, by a junction of their
land and naval forces, to attempt the destruction of the French fleet at
Boston, and regain possession of that town. These points were so far
asunder, that it was difficult to protect the one, without leaving the
other exposed. To do the best that the nature of the case would admit,
Washington strengthened the works and reinforced the garrison in the
Highlands, stationing Putnam with two brigades in the neighborhood of
West Point. General Gates was sent with three brigades to Danbury in
Connecticut, where he was joined by two brigades under General McDougal,
while Washington moved his camp to a rear position at Fredericksburg on
the borders of Connecticut, and about thirty miles from West Point, so
as to be ready for a movement to the eastward or a speedy junction for
the defence of the Hudson. To facilitate an eastern movement he took
measures to have all the roads leading to Boston repaired.

Scarce had Washington moved from White Plains, when Sir Henry Clinton
threw a detachment of five thousand men under Lord Cornwallis into the
Jerseys, between the Hackensack and Hudson Rivers, and another of three
thousand under Knyphausen into Westchester County, between the Hudson
and the Bronx. These detachments held communication with each other, and
by the aid of flat-bottomed boats could unite their forces, in
twenty-four hours, on either side of the Hudson.

Washington considered these mere foraging expeditions, though on a large
scale, and detached troops into the Jerseys to co-operate with the
militia in checking them; but, as something more might be intended, he
ordered General Putnam to cross the river to West Point, for its
immediate security: while he himself moved with a division of his army
to Fishkill.

Wayne, who was with the detachment in the Jerseys, took post with a body
of militia and a regiment of light-horse in front of the division of
Lord Cornwallis. The militia were quartered at the village of New
Tappan; but Lieutenant-colonel Baylor, who commanded the light-horse,
chose to encamp apart, to be free, as is supposed, from the control of
Wayne. He took up his quarters, therefore, in Old Tappan, where his men
lay very negligently and unguardedly in barns. Cornwallis had
intelligence of their exposed situation, and laid a plan to cut off the
whole detachment. A body of troops from Knyphausen’s division was to
cross the Hudson in the night, and come by surprise upon the militia in
New Tappan: at the same time, Major-general Grey, of marauding renown,
was to advance on the left, and attack Baylor and his dragoons in their
careless quarters in Old Tappan.

Fortunately Knyphausen’s troops, led by Lieutenant-colonel Campbell,
were slow in crossing the river, and the militia were apprised by
deserters of their danger in time to escape. Not so with Baylor’s party.
General Grey, having cut off a sergeant’s patrol, advanced in silence,
and surrounded with his troops three barns in which the dragoons were
sleeping. We have seen, in his surprise of Wayne’s detachment in the
preceding year, how stealthy and effective he was in the work of
destruction. To prevent noise he had caused his men to draw the charges
and take the flints from their guns, and fix their bayonets. The bayonet
was his favorite weapon. With this his men rushed forward, and, deaf for
a time to all cries for mercy, made a savage slaughter of naked and
defenceless men. Eleven were killed on the spot, and twenty-five mangled
with repeated thrusts, some receiving ten, twelve, and even sixteen
wounds. Among the wounded were Colonel Baylor and Major Clough, the last
of whom soon died. About forty were taken prisoners, mostly through the
humane interposition of one of Grey’s captains, whose feelings revolted
at the orders of his sanguinary commander.

This whole movement of troops, on both sides of the Hudson, was designed
to cover an expedition against Little Egg Harbor, on the east coast of
New Jersey, a noted rendezvous of American privateers. It was conducted
in much the same spirit with that of General Grey to the eastward. Three
hundred regular troops, and a body of royalist volunteers from the
Jerseys, headed by Captain Patrick Ferguson, embarked at New York on
board galleys and transports, and made for Little Egg Harbor under
convoy of vessels of war. They were long at sea. The country heard of
their coming; four privateers put to sea and escaped; others took refuge
up the river. The wind prevented the transports from entering. The
troops embarked in row galleys and small craft, and pushed twenty miles
up the river to the village of Chestnut Neck. Here were batteries
without guns, prize ships which had been hastily scuttled, and
storehouses for the reception of prize goods. The batteries and
storehouses were demolished, the prize ships burnt, saltworks destroyed
and private dwellings sacked and laid in ashes; all, it was pretended,
being the property of persons concerned in privateering, or “whose
activity in the cause of America and unrelenting persecution of the
loyalists, marked them out as the proper objects of vengeance.” As those
persons were pointed out by the tory volunteers of New Jersey who
accompanied the expedition, we may suppose how far private pique and
neighborly feud entered into these proscriptions.

The vessels which brought this detachment being wind-bound for several
days, Capt. Ferguson had time for another enterprise. Among the forces
detached by Washington into the Jerseys to check these ravages, was the
Count Pulaski’s legionary corps, composed of three companies of foot,
and a troop of horse, officered principally by foreigners. A deserter
from the corps brought word to the British commander that the legion was
cantoned about twelve miles up the river; the infantry in three houses
by themselves; Count Pulaski with the cavalry at some distance apart.

Informed of these circumstances, Captain Ferguson embarked in boats with
two hundred and fifty men, ascended the river in the night, landed at
four in the morning, and surrounded the houses in which the infantry
were sleeping. “It being a night attack,” says the captain in his
official report, “little quarter of course could be given, _so there
were only five prisoners_.” It was indeed a massacre similar to those of
the bayonet-loving General Grey. Fifty of the infantry were butchered on
the spot; among whom were two of the foreign officers, the Baron de Bose
and Lieutenant de la Broderie.

The clattering of hoofs gave note of the approach of Pulaski and his
horse, whereupon the British made a rapid retreat to their boats and
pulled down the river, and thus ended the marauding expedition of
Captain Ferguson, worthy of the times of the buccaneers. He attempted
afterwards to excuse his wanton butchery of unarmed men, by alleging
that the deserter from Pulaski’s legion told him the count, in his
general orders, forbade all granting of quarters; information which
proved to be false, and which, had he been a gentleman of honorable
spirit, he never would have believed, especially on the word of a
deserter.

The detachment on the east side of the Hudson likewise made a predatory
and disgraceful foray from their lines at King’s Bridge, towards the
American encampment at White Plains, plundering the inhabitants without
discrimination, not only of their provisions and forage, but of the very
clothes on their backs. None were more efficient in this ravage than a
party of about one hundred of Captain Donop’s Hessian yagers, and they
were in full maraud between Tarrytown and Dobbs’ Ferry, when a
detachment of infantry under Colonel Richard Butler, and of cavalry
under Major Henry Lee, came upon them by surprise, killed ten of them on
the spot, captured a lieutenant and eighteen privates, and would have
taken or destroyed the whole, had not the extreme roughness of the
country impeded the action of the cavalry, and enabled the yagers to
escape by scrambling up hill-sides or plunging into ravines. This
occurred but three days after the massacre of Colonel Baylor’s party, on
the opposite side of the Hudson.

The British detachments having accomplished the main objects of their
movements, returned to New York; leaving those parts of the country they
had harassed still more determined in their hostility, having achieved
nothing but what is least honorable and most detestable in warfare. We
need no better comment on these measures than one furnished by a British
writer of the day. “Upon the whole,” observes he, “even if the treaty
between France and America had not rendered all hope of success from the
present conciliatory system hopeless, these predatory and irritating
expeditions would have appeared peculiarly ill-timed and unlucky. Though
strongly and warmly recommended by many here as the most effectual mode
of war, we scarcely remember an instance in which they have not been
more mischievous than useful to the grand objects of either reducing or
reconciling the provinces.”[147]

We may add here that General Grey, who had most signalized himself in
these sanguinary exploits, and who from his stealthy precaution to
insure the use of the bayonet, had acquired the surname of “no flint,”
was rewarded for a long career of military services by being raised to
the peerage as Lord Grey of Howick, ultimately Earl Grey. He was father
of the celebrated prime minister of that name.

About the middle of September Admiral Byron arrived at New York with the
residue of the scattered armament, which had sailed from England in June
to counteract the designs of the Count D’Estaing. Finding that the count
was still repairing his shattered fleet in the harbor of Boston, he put
to sea again as soon as his ships were refitted, and set sail for that
port to entrap him. Success seemed likely to crown his schemes: he
arrived off Boston on the 1st of November: his rival was still in port.
Scarce had the admiral entered the bay, however, when another violent
storm drove him out to sea, disabled his ships, and compelled him to put
into Rhode Island to refit. Meanwhile the count having his ships in good
order, and finding the coast clear, put to sea, and made the best of his
way for the West Indies. Previous to his departure he issued a
proclamation dated the 28th of October, addressed to the French
inhabitants of Canada, inviting them to resume allegiance to their
former sovereign. This was a measure in which he was not authorized by
instructions from his government, and which was calculated to awaken a
jealousy in the American mind as to the ultimate views of France in
taking a part in this contest. It added to the chagrin occasioned by the
failure of the expedition against Rhode Island, and the complete
abandonment by the French of the coasts of the United States.

The force at New York, which had been an object of watchful solicitude,
was gradually dispersed in different directions. Immediately after the
departure of Admiral Byron for Boston, another naval expedition had been
set on foot by Sir Henry Clinton. All being ready, a fleet of transports
with five thousand men, under General Grant, convoyed by Commodore
Hotham with a squadron of six ships of war, set sail on the third of
November, with the secret design of an attack on St. Lucia.

Towards the end of the same month, another body of troops, under
Lieutenant-colonel Campbell, sailed for Georgia in the squadron of
Commodore Hyde Parker; the British cabinet having determined to carry
the war into the Southern States. At the same time General Prevost, who
commanded in Florida, was ordered by Sir Henry Clinton to march to the
banks of the Savannah River, and attack Georgia in flank, while the
expedition under Campbell should attack it in front on the seaboard. We
will briefly note the issue of these enterprises, so far beyond
Washington’s control.

The squadron of Commodore Hyde Parker anchored in the Savannah River
towards the end of December. An American force of about six hundred
regulars, and a few militia under General Robert Howe, were encamped
near the town, being the remnant of an army with which that officer had
invaded Florida in the preceding summer, but had been obliged to
evacuate it by a mortal malady which desolated his camp.

Lieutenant-colonel Campbell landed his troops on the 29th of December,
about three miles below the town. The whole country bordering the river
is a deep morass, cut up by creeks, and only to be traversed by
causeways. Over one of these, six hundred yards in length, with a ditch
on each side, Colonel Campbell advanced, putting to flight a small party
stationed to guard it. General Howe had posted his little army on the
main road with the river on his left and a morass in front. A negro gave
Campbell information of a path leading through the morass, by which
troops might get unobserved to the rear of the Americans. Sir James
Baird was detached with the light-infantry by this path, while Colonel
Campbell advanced in front. The Americans, thus suddenly attacked in
front and rear, were completely routed; upwards of one hundred were
either killed on the spot, or perished in the morass; thirty-eight
officers and four hundred and fifteen privates were taken prisoners, the
rest retreated up the Savannah River and crossed into South Carolina.
Savannah, the capital of Georgia, was taken possession of by the
victors, with cannon, military stores and provisions; their loss was
only seven killed and nineteen wounded.

Colonel Campbell conducted himself with great moderation; protecting the
persons and property of the inhabitants, and proclaiming security and
favor to all that should return to their allegiance. Numbers in
consequence flocked to the British standard: the lower part of Georgia
was considered as subdued, and posts were established by the British to
maintain possession.

While Colonel Campbell had thus invaded Georgia in front, General
Prevost, who commanded the British forces in Florida, had received
orders from Sir Henry Clinton to take it in flank. He accordingly
traversed deserts to its southern frontier, took Sunbury, the only
remaining fort of importance, and marched to Savannah, where he assumed
the general command, detaching Colonel Campbell against Augusta. By the
middle of January (1779) all Georgia was reduced to submission.

A more experienced American general than Howe had by this time arrived
to take command of the Southern Department, Major-general Lincoln, who
had gained such reputation in the campaign against Burgoyne, and whose
appointment to this station had been solicited by the delegates from
South Carolina and Georgia. He had received his orders from Washington
in the beginning of October. Of his operations at the South we shall
have occasion to speak hereafter.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

WINTER CANTONMENTS OF THE AMERICAN ARMY—WASHINGTON AT
MIDDLEBROOK—PLAN OF ALARM SIGNALS FOR THE JERSEYS—LAFAYETTE’S
PROJECT FOR AN INVASION OF CANADA—FAVORED BY CONGRESS—CONDEMNED BY
WASHINGTON—RELINQUISHED—WASHINGTON IN PHILADELPHIA—THE WAR SPIRIT
DECLINING—DISSENSIONS IN CONGRESS—SECTIONAL FEELINGS—PATRIOTIC
APPEALS OF WASHINGTON—PLANS FOR THE NEXT CAMPAIGN—INDIAN
ATROCITIES TO BE REPRESSED—AVENGING EXPEDITION SET ON
FOOT—DISCONTENTS OF THE JERSEY TROOPS—APPEASED BY THE INTERFERENCE
OF WASHINGTON—SUCCESSFUL CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE INDIANS.

About the beginning of December, Washington distributed his troops for
the winter in a line of strong cantonments extending from Long Island
Sound to the Delaware. General Putnam commanded at Danbury, General
McDougall in the Highlands, while the head-quarters of the
commander-in-chief were near Middlebrook in the Jerseys. The objects of
this arrangement were the protection of the country; the security of the
important posts on the Hudson, and the safety, discipline, and easy
subsistence of the army.

In the course of this winter he devised a plan of alarm signals, which
General Philemon Dickinson was employed to carry into effect. On Bottle
Hill, which commanded a vast map of country, sentinels kept watch day
and night. Should there be an irruption of the enemy, an eighteen
pounder, called the Old Sow, fired every half hour, gave the alarm in
the day time or in dark and stormy nights; an immense fire or beacon at
other times. On the booming of that heavy gun, lights sprang up from
hill to hill along the different ranges of heights; the country was
aroused, and the yeomanry, hastily armed, hurried to their gathering
places.

Washington was now doomed to experience great loss in the narrow circle
of those about him, on whose attachment and devotion he could place
implicit reliance. The Marquis Lafayette, seeing no immediate prospect
of active employment in the United States, and anticipating a war on the
continent of Europe, was disposed to return to France to offer his
services to his sovereign; desirous, however, of preserving a relation
with America, he merely solicited from Congress the liberty of going
home for the next winter; engaging himself not to depart until certain
that the campaign was over. Washington backed his application for a
furlough, as an arrangement that would still link him with the service;
expressing his reluctance to part with an officer who united “to all the
military fire of youth an uncommon maturity of judgment.” Congress in
consequence granted the marquis an unlimited leave of absence, to return
to America whenever he should find it convenient.

The marquis, in truth, was full of a grand project for the following
summer’s campaign, which he was anxious to lay before the cabinet of
Versailles; it was to effect the conquest of Canada by the combined
forces, naval and military, of France and the United States. Of course
it embraced a wide scope of operations. One body of American troops was
to be directed against Detroit; another against Niagara; a third was to
seize Oswego, launch a flotilla, and get command of Lake Ontario, and a
fourth to penetrate Canada by the river St. Francis, and secure Montreal
and the posts on Lake Champlain. While the Americans thus invaded Upper
Canada, a French fleet with five thousand men was to ascend the St.
Lawrence, and make an attack on Quebec. The scheme met the approbation
of a great majority in Congress, who ordered it to be communicated to
Dr. Franklin, then minister at Paris, to be laid by him before the
French cabinet. Previous to a final determination, the House prudently
consulted the opinion of the commander-in-chief. Washington opposed the
scheme, both by letter and in a personal interview with Congress, as too
complicated and extensive, and requiring too great resources in men and
money to be undertaken with a prospect of success. He opposed it also on
political grounds. Though it had apparently originated in a proposition
of the Marquis Lafayette, it might have had its birth in the French
cabinet, with a view to some ulterior object. He suggested the danger of
introducing a large body of French troops into Canada, and putting them
in possession of the capital of a province attached to them by all the
ties of blood, habits, manners, religion, and former connection of
government. Let us realize for a moment, said he, the striking
advantages France would derive from the possession of Canada; an
extensive territory, abounding in supplies for the use of her islands; a
vast source of the most beneficial commerce with the Indian nations,
which she might then monopolize; ports of her own on this Continent
independent of the precarious good-will of an ally; the whole trade of
Newfoundland whenever she pleased to engross it, the finest nursery for
seamen in the world; and finally, the facility of awing and controlling
these States, the natural and most formidable rival of every maritime
power in Europe. All these advantages he feared might prove too great a
temptation to be resisted by any power actuated by the common maxims of
national policy; and, with all his confidence in the favorable
sentiments of France, he did not think it politic to subject her
disinterestedness to such a trial. “To waive every other consideration,”
said he, grandly, in the conclusion of a letter to the President of
Congress, “I do not like to add to the number of our national
obligations. I would wish, as much as possible, to avoid giving a
foreign power new claims of merit for services performed to the United
States, and would ask no assistance that is not indispensable.”

The strenuous and far-seeing opposition of Washington was at length
effectual; and the magnificent, but hazardous scheme, was entirely,
though slowly and reluctantly abandoned. It appears since, that the
cabinet of France had really no hand either in originating or promoting
it; but, on the contrary, was opposed to any expedition against Canada;
and the instructions to their minister forbade him to aid in any such
scheme of conquest.

Much of the winter was passed by Washington in Philadelphia, occupied in
devising and discussing plans for the campaign of 1779. It was an
anxious moment with him. Circumstances which inspired others with
confidence, filled him with solicitude. The alliance with France had
produced a baneful feeling of security, which, it appeared to him, was
paralyzing the energies of the country. England, it was thought, would
now be too much occupied in securing her position in Europe, to increase
her force or extend her operations in America. Many, therefore,
considered the war as virtually at an end; and were unwilling to make
the sacrifices, or supply the means necessary for important military
undertakings.

Dissensions, too, and party feuds were breaking out in Congress, owing
to the relaxation of that external pressure of a common and imminent
danger, which had heretofore produced a unity of sentiment and action.
That august body had, in fact, greatly deteriorated since the
commencement of the war. Many of those whose names had been as
watchwords at the Declaration of Independence, had withdrawn from the
national councils; occupied either by their individual affairs, or by
the affairs of their individual States. Washington, whose comprehensive
patriotism embraced the whole Union, deprecated and deplored the dawning
of this sectional spirit. America, he declared, had never stood in more
imminent need of the wise, patriotic, and spirited exertions of her sons
than at this period. The States, separately, were too much engaged in
their local concerns, and had withdrawn too many of their ablest men
from the general council, for the good of the common weal. “Our
political system,” observed he, “is like the mechanism of a clock; it is
useless to keep the smaller wheels in order, if the greater one, the
prime mover of the whole, is neglected.” It was his wish, therefore,
that each State should not only choose, but absolutely compel its ablest
men to attend Congress, instructed to investigate and reform public
abuses.

Nothing can exceed his appeal to the patriotism of his native State,
Virginia, in a letter to Colonel Harrison, the speaker of its House of
Delegates, written on the 30th of December. “Our affairs are in a more
distressed, ruinous, and deplorable condition than they have been since
the commencement of the war. By a faithful laborer, then, in the cause;
by a man who is daily injuring his private estate without the smallest
earthly advantage, not common to all in case of a favorable issue to the
dispute; by one who wishes the prosperity of America most devoutly, but
sees it, or thinks he sees it, on the brink of ruin; you are besought
most earnestly, my dear Colonel Harrison, to exert yourself in
endeavoring to rescue your country, by sending your best and ablest men
to Congress. These characters must not slumber nor sleep at home in such
a time of pressing danger. They must not content themselves with the
enjoyment of places of honor or profit in their own State, while the
common interests of America are mouldering and sinking into
irretrievable ruin. * * * If I were to be called upon to draw a picture
of the times and of men, from what I have seen, heard, and in part know,
I should in one word say, that idleness, dissipation, and extravagance
seem to have laid fast hold of most of them; that speculation,
peculation, and an insatiable thirst for riches, seem to have got the
better of every other consideration, and almost of every order of men;
that party disputes and personal quarrels are the great business of the
day; while the momentous concerns of an empire, a great and accumulating
debt, ruined finances, depreciated money, and want of credit, which in
its consequences is the want of every thing, are but secondary
considerations, and postponed from day to day, from week to week, as if
our affairs wore the most promising aspect. * * * * * In the present
situation of things, I cannot help asking where are Mason, Wythe,
Jefferson, Nicholas, Pendleton, Nelson, and another I could name? And
why, if you are sufficiently impressed with your danger, do you not, as
New York has done in the case of Mr. Jay, send an extra member or two,
for at least a limited time, till the great business of the nation is
put upon a more respectable and happy establishment? * * * I confess to
you I feel more real distress on account of the present appearance of
things, than I have done at any one time since the commencement of the
dispute.”

Nothing seems to have disgusted him more during his visit to
Philadelphia, than the manner in which the concerns of the patriot camp
were forgotten amid the revelry of the capital. “An assembly, a concert,
a dinner, a supper, that will cost three or four hundred pounds, will
not only take men off from acting in this business, but even from
thinking of it; while a great part of the officers of our army, from
absolute necessity, are quitting the service, and the more virtuous few,
rather than do this, are sinking by sure degrees into beggary and want.”

In discussing the policy to be observed in the next campaign, Washington
presumed the enemy would maintain their present posts, and conduct the
war as heretofore; in which case he was for remaining entirely on the
defensive; with the exception of such minor operations as might be
necessary to check the ravages of the Indians. The country, he observed,
was in a languid and exhausted state, and had need of repose. The
interruption to agricultural pursuits, and the many hands abstracted
from husbandry by military service, had produced a scarcity of bread and
forage, and rendered it difficult to subsist large armies. Neither was
it easy to recruit these armies. There was abundance of employment;
wages were high, the value of money was low; consequently there was but
little temptation to enlist. Plans had been adopted to remedy the
deranged state of the currency, but they would be slow in operation.
Great economy must in the mean time be observed in the public
expenditure.

The participation of France in the war, also, and the prospect that
Spain would soon be embroiled with England, must certainly divide the
attention of the enemy, and allow America a breathing time; these and
similar considerations were urged by Washington in favor of a defensive
policy. One single exception was made by him. The horrible ravages and
massacres perpetrated by the Indians and their tory allies at Wyoming,
had been followed by similar atrocities at Cherry Valley, in the State
of New York, and called for signal vengeance to prevent a repetition.
Washington knew by experience that Indian warfare, to be effective,
should never be merely defensive, but must be carried into the enemy’s
country. The Six Nations, the most civilized of the savage tribes, had
proved themselves the most formidable. His idea was to make war upon
them in their own style; penetrate their country, lay waste their
villages and settlements, and at the same time destroy the British post
at Niagara, that nestling-place of tories and refugees.

The policy thus recommended was adopted by Congress. An expedition was
set on foot to carry that part relative to the Indians into execution:
but here a circumstance occurred, which Washington declared gave him
more pain than any thing that had happened in the war. A Jersey brigade
being ordered to march, the officers of the first regiment hesitated to
obey. By the depreciation of paper money, their pay was incompetent to
their support; it was, in fact, merely nominal; the consequence was, as
they alleged, that they were loaded with debt, and their families at
home were starving; yet the Legislature of their State turned a deaf ear
to their complaints. Thus aggrieved, they addressed a remonstrance to
the Legislature on the subject of their pay, intimating that, should it
not receive the immediate attention of that body, they might, at the
expiration of three days, be considered as having resigned, and other
officers might be appointed in their place.

Here was one of the many dilemmas which called for the judgment,
moderation, and great personal weight and influence of Washington. He
was eminently the soldier’s friend, but he was no less thoroughly the
patriot general. He knew and felt the privations and distresses of the
army, and the truth of the grievances complained of; but he saw, also,
the evil consequences that might result from such a course as that which
the officers had adopted. Acting, therefore, as a mediator, he
corroborated the statements of the complainants on the one hand, urging
on government the necessity of a more general and adequate provision for
the officers of the army, and the danger of subjecting them to too
severe and continued privations. On the other hand, he represented to
the officers the difficulties with which government itself had to
contend from a deranged currency and exhausted resources; and the
unavoidable delays that consequently impeded its moneyed operations. He
called upon them, therefore, for a further exertion of that patience and
perseverance which had hitherto done them the highest honor at home and
abroad, had inspired him with unlimited confidence in their virtue, and
consoled him amidst every perplexity and reverse of fortune to which the
national affairs had been exposed. “Now that we have made so great a
progress to the attainment of the end we have in view,” observed he,
“any thing like a change of conduct would imply a very unhappy change of
principle, and a forgetfulness, as well of what we owe to ourselves, as
to our country. Did I suppose it possible this could be the case even in
a single regiment of the army, I should be mortified and chagrined
beyond expression. I should feel it as a wound given to my own honor,
which I consider as embarked with that of the army at large.

“But the gentlemen,” adds he, “cannot be in earnest; they cannot
seriously intend any thing that would be a stain on their former
reputation. They have only reasoned wrong about the means of obtaining a
good end; and on consideration, I hope and flatter myself, they will
renounce what must appear to be improper. At the opening of a campaign,
when under marching orders for an important service, their own honor,
duty to the public and to themselves, and a regard to military
propriety, will not suffer them to persist in a measure which would be a
violation of them all. It will even wound their delicacy, coolly to
reflect that they have hazarded a step which has an air of dictating to
their country, by taking advantage of the necessity of the moment; for
the declaration they have made to the State, at so critical a time, that
unless they obtain relief in the short period of three days, they must
be considered out of the service, has very much that aspect.”

These and other observations of similar purport, were contained in a
letter to General Maxwell, their commander, to be laid before the
officers. It produced a respectful reply, but one which intimated no
disposition to swerve from their determination. After reiterating their
grievances, “we are sorry,” added they, “that you should imagine we
meant to disobey orders. It was and is still our determination to march
with our regiment, and to do the duty of officers until the Legislature
shall have a reasonable time to appoint others, but no longer. We beg
leave to assure your Excellency, that we have the highest sense of your
ability and virtues; that executing your orders has ever given us
pleasure; that we love the service, and love our country;—but when that
country gets so lost to virtue and justice, as to forget to support its
servants, it then becomes their duty to retire from its service.”

A commander of less magnanimity than Washington, would have answered
this letter by a stern exercise of military rule, and driven the really
aggrieved parties to extremity. He nobly contented himself with the
following comment on it, forming a paragraph of a letter to General
Maxwell. “I am sorry the gentlemen persist in the principles which
dictated the step they have taken; as, the more the affair unfolds
itself, the more reason I see to disapprove it. But in the present view
they have of the matter, and with their present feelings, it is not
probable any new argument that could be offered would have more
influence than the former. While, therefore, the gentlemen continue in
the execution of their duty, as they declare themselves heartily
disposed to do, I shall only regret that they have taken a step of which
they must hereafter see the impropriety.”

The Legislature of New Jersey imitated the forbearance of Washington.
Compounding with their pride, they let the officers know that on their
withdrawing the memorial, the subject matter of it would be promptly
attended to. It was withdrawn. Resolutions were immediately passed,
granting pecuniary supplies to both officers and soldiers. The money was
forthwith forwarded to camp, and the brigade marched.

Such was the paternal spirit exercised by Washington, in all the
difficulties and discontents of the army. How clearly he understood the
genius and circumstances of the people he was called upon to manage; and
how truly was he their protector even more than their commander!

We shall briefly dispose of the Indian campaign. The first act was an
expedition from Fort Schuyler by Colonel Van Schaick, Lieutenant-colonel
Willett, and Major Cochran, with about six hundred men, who, on the 19th
of April, surprised the towns of the Onondagas; destroyed the whole
settlement, and returned to the fort without the loss of a single man.

The great expedition of the campaign, however, was in revenge of the
massacre of Wyoming. Early in the summer, three thousand men assembled
in that lately desolated region, and, conducted by General Sullivan,
moved up the west branch of the Susquehanna into the Seneca country.
While on the way, they were joined by a part of the western army, under
General James Clinton, who had come from the valley of the Mohawk by
Otsego lake and the east branch of the Susquehanna. The united forces
amounted to about five thousand men, of which Sullivan had the general
command.

The Indians, and their allies the tories, had received information of
the intended invasion, and appeared in arms to oppose it. They were much
inferior in force, however, being about fifteen hundred Indians and two
hundred white men, commanded by the two Butlers, Johnson, and Brant. A
battle took place at Newtown on the 29th of August, in which they were
easily defeated. Sullivan then pushed forward into the heart of the
Indian country, penetrating as far as the Genesee River, laying every
thing waste, setting fire to deserted dwellings, destroying cornfields,
orchards, gardens, every thing that could give sustenance to man, the
design being to starve the Indians out of the country. The latter
retreated before him with their families, and at length took refuge
under the protection of the British garrison at Niagara. Having
completed his errand, Sullivan returned to Easton in Pennsylvania. The
thanks of Congress were voted to him and his army, but he shortly
afterward resigned his commission on account of ill health, and retired
from the service.

A similar expedition was undertaken by Colonel Brodhead, from Pittsburg
up the Allegany, against the Mingo, Muncey, and Seneca tribes, with
similar results. The wisdom of Washington’s policy of carrying the war
against the Indians into their country, and conducting it in their own
way, was apparent from the general intimidation produced among the
tribes by these expeditions, and the subsequent infrequency of their
murderous incursions; the instigation of which by the British, had been
the most inhuman feature of this war.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

PREDATORY WARFARE OF THE ENEMY—RAVAGES IN THE CHESAPEAKE—HOSTILITIES
ON THE HUDSON—VERPLANCK’S POINT AND STONY POINT TAKEN—CAPTURE OF NEW
HAVEN—FAIRFIELD AND NORWALK DESTROYED—WASHINGTON PLANS A COUNTER
STROKE—STORMING OF STONY POINT—GENEROUS LETTER OF LEE.

The situation of Sir Henry Clinton must have been mortifying in the
extreme to an officer of lofty ambition and generous aims. His force,
between sixteen and seventeen thousand strong, was superior in number,
discipline, and equipment to that of Washington; yet his instructions
confined him to a predatory warfare carried on by attacks and marauds at
distant points, harassing, it is true, yet irritating to the country
intended to be conciliated, and brutalizing to his own soldiery. Such
was the nature of an expedition set on foot against the commerce of the
Chesapeake; by which commerce the armies were supplied and the credit of
the government sustained. On the 9th of May, a squadron under Sir George
Collier, convoying transports and galleys, with twenty-five hundred men,
commanded by General Mathews, entered these waters, took possession of
Portsmouth without opposition, sent out armed parties against Norfolk,
Suffolk, Gosport, Kemp’s Landing, and other neighboring places, where
were immense quantities of provisions, naval and military stores, and
merchandise of all kinds; with numerous vessels, some on the stocks,
others richly laden. Wherever they went, a scene of plunder,
conflagration, and destruction ensued. A few days sufficed to ravage the
whole neighborhood.

While this was going on at the South, Washington received intelligence
of movements at New York and in its vicinity, which made him apprehend
an expedition against the Highlands of the Hudson.

Since the loss of Forts Montgomery and Clinton, the main defences of the
Highlands had been established at the sudden bend of the river where it
winds between West Point and Constitution Island. Two opposite forts
commanded this bend, and an iron chain which was stretched across it.

Washington had projected two works also just below the Highlands, at
Stony Point and Verplanck’s Point, to serve as outworks of the mountain
passes, and to protect King’s Ferry, the most direct and convenient
communication between the Northern and Middle States.

A small but strong fort had been erected on Verplanck’s Point, and was
garrisoned by seventy men under Captain Armstrong. A more important work
was in progress at Stony Point. When completed, these two forts, on
opposite promontories, would form as it were the lower gates of the
Highlands; miniature Pillars of Hercules, of which Stony Point was the
Gibraltar.

To be at hand in case of any real attempt upon the Highlands, Washington
drew up with his forces in that direction; moving by the way of
Morristown.

An expedition up the Hudson was really the object of Sir Henry Clinton’s
movements, and for this he was strengthened by the return of Sir George
Collier with his marauding ships and forces from Virginia. On the 30th
of May, Sir Henry set out on his second grand cruise up the Hudson, with
an armament of about seventy sail, great and small, and one hundred and
fifty flat boats. Admiral Sir George Collier commanded the armament, and
there was a land force of about five thousand men under General Vaughan.

The first aim of Sir Henry was to get possession of Stony and
Verplanck’s Points; his former expedition had acquainted him with the
importance of this pass of the river. On the morning of the 31st, the
forces were landed in two divisions, the largest under General Vaughan,
on the east side of the river, about seven or eight miles below
Verplanck’s Point; the other, commanded by Sir Henry in person, landed
in Haverstraw Bay, about three miles below Stony Point. There were but
about thirty men in the unfinished fort; they abandoned it on the
approach of the enemy, and retreated into the Highlands, having first
set fire to the block-house. The British took quiet possession of the
fort in the evening; dragged up cannon and mortars in the night, and at
daybreak opened a furious fire upon Fort Lafayette. It was cannonaded at
the same time by the armed vessels, and a demonstration was made on it
by the division under General Vaughan. Thus surrounded, the little
garrison of seventy men was forced to surrender, with no other
stipulation than safety to their persons and to the property they had in
the fort. Major André was aide-de-camp to Sir Henry, and signed the
articles of capitulation.

Sir Henry Clinton stationed garrisons in both posts, and set to work
with great activity to complete the fortification of Stony Point. His
troops remained for several days in two divisions on the opposite sides
of the river; the fleet generally fell down a little below King’s Ferry;
some of the square-rigged vessels, however, with others of a smaller
size, and flat-bottomed boats, having troops on board, dropped down
Haverstraw Bay, and finally disappeared behind the promontories which
advance across the upper part of the Tappan Sea.

Some of the movements of the enemy perplexed Washington exceedingly. He
presumed, however, that the main object of Sir Henry was to get
possession of West Point, the guardian fortress of the river, and that
the capture of Stony and Verplanck’s Points were preparatory steps. He
would fain have dislodged him from these posts, which cut off all
communication by the way of King’s Ferry, but they were too strong; he
had not the force nor military apparatus necessary. Deferring any
attempt on them for the present, he took measures for the protection of
West Point. Leaving General Putnam and the main body of the army at
Smith’s Clove, a mountain pass in the rear of Haverstraw, he removed his
head-quarters to New Windsor, to be near West Point in case of need, and
to press the completion of its works. General McDougall was transferred
to the command of the Point. Three brigades were stationed at different
places on the opposite side of the river, under General Heath, from
which fatigue parties crossed daily to work on the fortifications.

This strong disposition of the American forces checked Sir Henry’s
designs against the Highlands. Contenting himself, therefore, for the
present, with the acquisition of Stony and Verplanck’s Points, he
returned to New York; where he soon set on foot a desolating expedition
along the seaboard of Connecticut. That State, while it furnished the
American armies with provisions and recruits, and infested the sea with
privateers, had hitherto experienced nothing of the horrors of war
within its borders. Sir Henry, in compliance with his instructions from
government, was now about to give it a scourging lesson; and he
entertained the hope that, in so doing, he might draw down Washington
from his mountain fastnesses, and lay open the Hudson to a successful
incursion.

General (late Governor) Tryon, was the officer selected by Sir Henry for
this inglorious, but apparently congenial service. About the beginning
of July he embarked with two thousand six hundred men, in a fleet of
transports and tenders, and was convoyed up the Sound by Sir George
Collier with two ships of war.

On the 5th of July, the troops landed near New Haven, in two divisions,
one led by Tryon, the other by Brigadier-general Garth, his lieutenant.
They came upon the neighborhood by surprise; yet the militia assembled
in haste, and made a resolute though ineffectual opposition. The British
captured the town, dismantled the fort, and took or destroyed all the
vessels in the harbor; with all the artillery, ammunition, and public
stores. Several private houses were plundered; but this, it was said,
was done by the soldiery contrary to orders. The enemy, in fact, claimed
great credit for lenity in refraining from universal sackage,
considering the opposition they had experienced while on the march, and
that some of the inhabitants of the town had fired upon them from the
windows.

They next proceeded to Fairfield; where, meeting with greater
resistance, they thought the moment arrived for a wholesome example of
severity. Accordingly, they not merely ravaged and destroyed the public
stores and the vessels in the harbor, but laid the town itself in ashes.
The exact return of this salutary lesson gives the destruction of
ninety-seven dwelling-houses, sixty-seven barns and stables, forty-eight
storehouses, three places of worship, a court house, a jail, and two
school-houses.

The sight of their homes laid desolate, and their dwellings wrapped in
flames, only served to exasperate the inhabitants, and produce a more
determined opposition to the progress of the destroyers; whereupon the
ruthless ravage of the latter increased as they advanced.

At Norwalk, where they landed on the 11th of July, they burnt one
hundred and thirty dwelling-houses, eighty-seven barns, twenty-two
storehouses, seventeen shops, four mills, two places of worship, and
five vessels which were in the harbor. All this was private property,
and the loss fell on individuals engaged in the ordinary occupations of
life. These acts of devastation were accompanied by atrocities,
inevitable where the brutal passions of the soldiery are aroused. They
were unprovoked, too, by any unusual acts of hostility, the militia
having no time to assemble, excepting in small parties for the defence
of their homes and firesides. The loss of the British throughout the
whole expedition amounted, according to their own accounts, to twenty
killed, ninety-six wounded, and thirty-two missing.

It was intended to crown this grand ravage by a descent on New London, a
noted rendezvous of privateers; but as greater opposition was expected
there than at either of the other places the squadron returned to
Huntington Bay, on Long Island, to await reinforcements; and Commodore
Collier proceeded to Throg’s Neck, to confer with Sir Henry Clinton
about further operations.

In this conference Sir Henry was assured that the recent expedition was
producing the most salutary effects; that the principal inhabitants were
incensed at the apathy of Washington in remaining encamped near the
Hudson, while their country was ravaged and their homes laid in ashes;
that they complained equally of Congress, and talked of withdrawing from
it their allegiance, and making terms with the British commanders for
themselves; finally, it was urged that the proposed expedition against
New London would carry these salutary effects still further, and confirm
the inhabitants in the sentiments they were beginning to express.

Such were the delusive representations continually made to the British
commanders in the course of this war; or rather, such were the delusions
in which they themselves indulged, and which led them to the commission
of acts calculated to rend still further asunder the kindred countries.

Washington, however, was not culpable of the apathy ascribed to him. On
hearing of the departure of the expedition to the eastward, and before
he was acquainted with its definite object, he detached General Heath,
with two brigades of Connecticut militia, to counteract the movements of
the enemy. This was all that he could spare from the force stationed for
the protection of the Highlands. Any weakening of his posts there might
bring the enemy suddenly upon him, such was their facility in moving
from one place to another by means of their shipping. Indeed, he had
divined that a scheme of the kind was at the bottom of the hostile
movement to the eastward.

As a kind of counter-check to Sir Henry, he had for some days been
planning the recapture of Stony Point and Fort Lafayette. He had
reconnoitred them in person; spies had been thrown into them, and
information collected from deserters. Stony Point having been recently
strengthened by the British was now the most important. It was a rocky
promontory advancing far into the Hudson, which washed three sides of
it. A deep morass, covered at high water, separated it from the main
land, but at low tide might be traversed by a narrow causeway and
bridge. The promontory was crowned by strong works, furnished with heavy
ordnance, commanding the morass and causeway. Lower down were two rows
of abatis, and the shore at the foot of the hill could be swept by
vessels of war anchored in the river. The garrison was about six hundred
strong, commanded by Lieutenant-colonel Johnson.

To attempt the surprisal of this isolated post, thus strongly fortified,
was a perilous enterprise. General Wayne, Mad Anthony as he was called
from his daring valor, was the officer to whom Washington proposed it,
and he engaged in it with avidity.[148] According to Washington’s plan,
it was to be attempted by light-infantry only, at night, and with the
utmost secrecy, securing every person they met to prevent discovery.
Between one and two hundred chosen men and officers were to make the
surprise; preceded by a vanguard of prudent, determined men, well
commanded, to remove obstructions, secure sentries, and drive in the
guards. The whole were to advance with fixed bayonets and unloaded
muskets; all was to be done with the bayonet. These parties were to be
followed by the main body, at a small distance, to support and reinforce
them, or to bring them off in case of failure. All were to wear white
cockades or feathers, and to have a watchword, so as to be distinguished
from the enemy. “The usual time for exploits of this kind,” observes
Washington, “is a little before day, for which reason a vigilant officer
is then more on the watch. I therefore recommend a midnight hour.”

On getting possession of Stony Point, Wayne was to turn its guns upon
Fort Lafayette and the shipping. A detachment was to march down from
West Point by Peekskill, to the vicinity of Fort Lafayette, and hold
itself ready to join in the attack upon it, as soon as the cannonade
began from Stony Point.

On the 15th of July, about mid-day, Wayne set out with his
light-infantry from Sandy Beach, fourteen miles distant from Stony
Point. The roads were rugged, across mountains, morasses, and narrow
defiles, in the skirts of the Dunderberg, where frequently it was
necessary to proceed in single file. About eight in the evening, they
arrived within a mile and a half of the forts, without being discovered.
Not a dog barked to give the alarm—all the dogs in the neighborhood had
been privately destroyed beforehand. Bringing the men to a halt, Wayne
and his principal officers went nearer, and carefully reconnoitred the
works and their environs, so as to proceed understandingly and without
confusion. Having made their observations they returned to the troops.
Midnight, it will be recollected, was the time recommended by Washington
for the attack. About half-past eleven, the whole moved forward, guided
by a negro of the neighborhood who had frequently carried in fruit to
the garrison, and served the Americans as a spy. He led the way,
accompanied by two stout men disguised as farmers. The countersign was
given to the first sentinel, posted on high ground west of the morass.
While the negro talked with him, the men seized and gagged him. The
sentinel posted at the head of the causeway was served in the same
manner; so that hitherto no alarm was given. The causeway, however, was
overflowed, and it was some time after twelve o’clock before the troops
could cross; leaving three hundred men under General Muhlenberg, on the
western side of the morass, as a reserve.

At the foot of the promontory, the troops were divided into two columns,
for simultaneous attacks on opposite sides of the works. One hundred and
fifty volunteers, led by Lieutenant-colonel Fleury, seconded by Major
Posey, formed the vanguard of the right column. One hundred volunteers
under Major Stewart, the vanguard of the left. In advance of each was a
forlorn hope of twenty men, one led by Lieutenant Gibbon, the other by
Lieutenant Knox; it was their desperate duty to remove the abatis. So
well had the whole affair been conducted, that the Americans were close
upon the outworks before they were discovered. There was then severe
skirmishing at the pickets. The Americans used the bayonet; the others
discharged their muskets. The reports roused the garrison. Stony Point
was instantly in an uproar. The drums beat to arms; every one hurried to
his alarm post; the works were hastily manned, and a tremendous fire of
grape shot and musketry opened upon the assailants.

The two columns forced their way with the bayonet, at opposite points,
surmounting every obstacle. Colonel Fleury was the first to enter the
fort and strike the British flag. Major Posey sprang to the ramparts and
shouted, “The fort is our own.” Wayne, who led the right column,
received at the inner abatis a contusion on the head from a musket ball,
and would have fallen to the ground, but his two aides-de-camp supported
him. Thinking it was a death wound, “Carry me into the fort,” said he,
“and let me die at the head of my column.” He was borne in between his
aides, and soon recovered his self-possession. The two columns arrived
nearly at the same time, and met in the centre of the works. The
garrison surrendered at discretion.

At daybreak, as Washington directed, the guns of the fort were turned on
Fort Lafayette and the shipping. The latter cut their cables and dropped
down the river. Through a series of blunders, the detachment from West
Point, which was to have co-operated, did not arrive in time, and came
unprovided with suitable ammunition for their battering artillery. This
part of the enterprise, therefore, failed; Fort Lafayette held out.

The storming of Stony Point stands out in high relief, as one of the
most brilliant achievements of the war. The Americans had effected it
without firing a musket. On their part, it was the silent, deadly work
of the bayonet; the fierce resistance they met at the outset may be
judged by the havoc made in their forlorn hope; out of twenty-two men,
seventeen were either killed or wounded. The whole loss of the Americans
was fifteen killed and eighty-three wounded. Of the garrison,
sixty-three were slain, including two officers; five hundred and
fifty-three were taken prisoners, among whom were a lieutenant-colonel,
four captains, and twenty-three subaltern officers.

Wayne, in his despatches, writes: “The humanity of our brave soldiery,
who scorned to take the lives of a vanquished foe when calling for
mercy, reflects the highest honor on them, and accounts for the few of
the enemy killed on the occasion.” His words reflect honor on himself.

A British historian confirms his eulogy. “The conduct of the Americans
upon this occasion was highly meritorious,” writes he; “for they would
have been fully justified in putting the garrison to the sword; not one
man of which was put to death but in fair combat.”[149]

We are happy to record an instance of generous feeling on the part of
General Charles Lee, in connection with Stony Point. When he heard of
Wayne’s achievement, he wrote to him as follows: “What I am going to
say, you will not, I hope, consider as paying my court in this hour of
your glory; for, as it is at least my present intention to leave this
continent, I can have no interest in paying my court to any individual.
What I shall say therefore, is dictated by the genuine feelings of my
heart. I do most sincerely declare, that your assault of Stony Point is
not only the most brilliant, in my opinion, throughout the whole course
of the war on either side, but that it is the most brilliant I am
acquainted with in history; the assault of Schweidnitz by Marshal
Laudon, I think inferior to it. I wish you, therefore, most sincerely,
joy of the laurels you have deservedly acquired, and that you may long
live to wear them.”

This is the more magnanimous on the part of Lee, as Wayne had been the
chief witness against him in the court-martial after the affair of
Monmouth, greatly to his annoyance. While Stony Point, therefore, stands
a lasting monument of the daring courage of “Mad Anthony,” let it call
up the remembrance of this freak of generosity on the part of the
eccentric Lee.

Tidings of the capture of Stony Point, and the imminent danger of Fort
Lafayette, reached Sir Henry Clinton just after his conference with Sir
George Collier at Throg’s Neck. The expedition against New London was
instantly given up; the transports and troops were recalled; a forced
march was made to Dobbs’ Ferry on the Hudson; a detachment was sent up
the river in transports to relieve Fort Lafayette, and Sir Henry
followed with a greater force, hoping Washington might quit his
fastnesses, and risk a battle for the possession of Stony Point.

Again the Fabian policy of the American commander-in-chief disappointed
the British general. Having well examined the post in company with an
engineer and several general officers, he found that at least fifteen
hundred men would be required to maintain it, a number not to be spared
from the army at present.

The works, too, were only calculated for defence on the land side, and
were open towards the river, where the enemy depended upon protection
from their ships. It would be necessary to construct them anew, with
great labor. The army, also, would have to be in the vicinity, too
distant from West Point to aid in completing or defending its
fortifications, and exposed to the risk of a general action on
unfavorable terms.

For these considerations, in which all his officers concurred,
Washington evacuated the post on the 18th, removing the cannon and
stores, and destroying the works; after which he drew his forces
together in the Highlands, and established his quarters at West Point,
not knowing but that Sir Henry might attempt a retaliatory stroke on
that most important fortress. The latter retook possession of Stony
Point, and fortified and garrisoned it more strongly than ever, but was
too wary to risk an attempt upon the strongholds of the Highlands.
Finding Washington was not to be tempted out of them, he ordered the
transports to fall once more down the river, and returned to his former
encampment at Philipsburg.

CHAPTER XL.

EXPEDITION AGAINST PENOBSCOT—NIGHT SURPRISAL OF PAULUS HOOK—WASHINGTON
FORTIFIES WEST POINT—HIS STYLE OF LIVING THERE—TABLE AT
HEAD-QUARTERS—SIR HENRY CLINTON REINFORCED—ARRIVAL OF D’ESTAING ON
THE COAST OF GEORGIA—PLANS IN CONSEQUENCE—THE FRENCH MINISTER AT
WASHINGTON’S HIGHLAND CAMP—LETTER TO LAFAYETTE—D’ESTAING CO-OPERATES
WITH LINCOLN—REPULSED AT SAVANNAH—WASHINGTON REINFORCES LINCOLN—GOES
INTO WINTER-QUARTERS—SIR HENRY CLINTON SENDS AN EXPEDITION TO THE
SOUTH.

The brilliant affair of the storming of Stony Point, was somewhat
overshadowed by the result of an enterprise at the eastward, undertaken
without consulting Washington. A British detachment from Halifax of
seven or eight hundred men, had founded in June a military post on the
eastern side of the Bay of Penobscot, nine miles below the river of that
name, and were erecting a fort there, intended to protect Nova Scotia,
control the frontiers of Massachusetts, and command the vast wooded
regions of Maine; whence inexhaustible supplies of timber might be
procured for the royal shipyards at Halifax and elsewhere.

The people of Boston, roused by this movement, which invaded their
territory, and touched their pride and interests, undertook, on their
own responsibility, a naval and military expedition intended to drive
off the invaders. All Boston was in a military bustle, enrolling militia
and volunteers. An embargo of forty days was laid on the shipping, to
facilitate the equipment of the naval armament; a squadron of armed
ships and brigantines under Commodore Saltonstall, at length put to sea,
convoying transports, on board of which were near four thousand land
troops under General Lovel.

Arriving in the Penobscot on the 25th of May, they found Colonel Maclean
posted on a peninsula, steep and precipitous toward the bay, and deeply
trenched on the land side, with three ships of war anchored before it.

Lovel was repulsed, with some little loss, in an attempt to effect a
landing on the peninsula; but finally succeeded before daybreak on the
28th. The moment was propitious for a bold and vigorous blow. The fort
was but half finished; the guns were not mounted; the three armed
vessels could not have offered a formidable resistance; but,
unfortunately, the energy of a Wayne was wanting to the enterprise.
Lovel proceeded by regular siege. He threw up works at seven hundred and
fifty yards distance, and opened a cannonade, which was continued from
day to day, for a fortnight. The enemy availed themselves of the delay
to strengthen their works, in which they were aided by men from the
ships. Distrustful of the efficiency of the militia and of their
continuance in camp, Lovel sent to Boston for a reinforcement of
Continental troops. He only awaited their arrival to carry the place by
storm. A golden opportunity was lost by this excess of caution. It gave
time for Admiral Collier at New York to hear of this enterprise, and
take measures for its defeat.

On the 13th of August, Lovel was astounded by intelligence that the
admiral was arrived before the bay with a superior armament. Thus fairly
entrapped, he endeavored to extricate his force with as little loss as
possible. Before news of Collier’s arrival could reach the fort, he
re-embarked his troops in the transports to make their escape up the
river. His armed vessels were drawn up in a crescent as if to give
battle, but it was merely to hold the enemy in check. They soon gave
way; some were captured, others were set on fire or blown up, and
abandoned by their crews. The transports being eagerly pursued and in
great danger of being taken, disgorged the troops and seamen on the wild
shores of the river: whence they had to make the best of their way to
Boston, struggling for upwards of a hundred miles through a pathless
wilderness, before they reached the settled parts of the country; and
several of them perishing through hunger and exhaustion.

If Washington was chagrined by the signal failure of this expedition,
undertaken without his advice, he was cheered by the better fortune of
one set on foot about the same time, under his own eye, by his young
friend, Major Henry Lee of the Virginia dragoons. This active and daring
officer had frequently been employed by him in scouring the country on
the west side of the Hudson to collect information; keep an eye upon the
enemy’s posts; cut off their supplies, and check their foraging parties.
The _coup de main_ at Stony Point had piqued his emulation. In his
communications to head-quarters he intimated that an opportunity
presented for an exploit of almost equal daring. In the course of his
reconnoitring, and by means of spies, he had discovered that the British
post at Paulus Hook, immediately opposite to New York, was very
negligently guarded. Paulus Hook is a long low point of the Jersey
shore, stretching into the Hudson, and connected to the main land by a
sandy isthmus. A fort had been erected on it, and garrisoned with four
or five hundred men, under the command of Major Sutherland. It was a
strong position. A creek fordable only in two places rendered the hook
difficult of access. Within this, a deep trench had been cut across the
isthmus, traversed by a drawbridge with a barred gate; and still within
this was a double row of abatis, extending into the water. The whole
position, with the country immediately adjacent, was separated from the
rest of Jersey by the Hackensack River, running parallel to the Hudson,
at the distance of a very few miles, and only traversable in boats,
excepting at the New Bridge, about fourteen miles from Paulus Hook.

Confident in the strength of his position, and its distance from any
American force, Major Sutherland had become remiss in his military
precautions; the want of vigilance in a commander soon produces
carelessness in subalterns, and a general negligence prevailed in the
garrison.

All this had been ascertained by Major Lee; and he now proposed the
daring project of surprising the fort at night, and thus striking an
insulting blow “within cannon shot of New York.” Washington was pleased
with the project; he had a relish for signal enterprises of the kind; he
was aware of their striking and salutary effect upon both friend and
foe; and he was disposed to favor the adventurous schemes of this young
officer. The chief danger in the present one, would be in the evacuation
and retreat after the blow had been effected, owing to the proximity of
the enemy’s force at New York. In consenting to the enterprise,
therefore, he stipulated that Lee should not undertake it unless sure,
from previous observation, that the post could be carried by instant
surprise; when carried, no time was to be lost in attempting to bring
off cannon or any other articles; or in collecting stragglers of the
garrison who might skulk and hide themselves. He was “to surprise the
post; bring off the garrison immediately, and effect a retreat.”

On the 18th of August, Lee set out on the expedition, at the head of
three hundred men of Lord Stirling’s division, and a troop of dismounted
dragoons under Captain McLane. The attack was to be made that night.
Lest the enemy should hear of their movement, it was given out that they
were on a mere foraging excursion. The road they took lay along that
belt of rocky and wooded heights which borders the Hudson, and forms a
rugged neck between it and the Hackensack. Lord Stirling followed with
five hundred men, and encamped at the New Bridge on that river, to be at
hand to render aid if required. As it would be perilous to return along
the rugged neck just mentioned, from the number of the enemy encamped
along the Hudson, Lee, after striking the blow, was to push for Dow’s
Ferry on the Hackensack, not far from Paulus Hook, where boats would be
waiting to receive him.

It was between two and three in the morning when Lee arrived at the
creek which rendered Paulus Hook difficult of access. It happened,
fortunately, that Major Sutherland, the British commander, had, the day
before, detached a foraging party under a Major Buskirk, to a part of
the country called the English Neighborhood. As Lee and his men
approached, they were mistaken by the sentinel for this party on its
return. The darkness of the night favored the mistake. They passed the
creek and ditch, entered the works unmolested, and had made themselves
masters of the post before the negligent garrison were well roused from
sleep. Major Sutherland and about sixty Hessians threw themselves into a
small block-house on the left of the fort and opened an irregular fire.
To attempt to dislodge them would have cost too much time. Alarm guns
from the ships in the river and the forts at New York threatened speedy
reinforcements to the enemy. Having made one hundred and fiftynine
prisoners, among whom were three officers, Lee commenced his retreat,
without tarrying to destroy either barracks or artillery. He had
achieved his object: a _coup de main_ of signal audacity. Few of the
enemy were slain, for there was but little fighting, and no massacre.
His own loss was two men killed and three wounded.

His retreat was attended by perils and perplexities. Through blunder or
misapprehension, the boats which he was to have found at Dow’s Ferry on
the Hackensack, disappointed him; and he had to make his way with his
weary troops up the neck of land between that river and the Hudson, in
imminent danger of being cut up by Buskirk and his scouting detachment.
Fortunately Lord Stirling heard of his peril, and sent out a force to
cover his retreat, which was effected in safety. Washington felt the
value of this hardy and brilliant exploit. “The increase of confidence,”
said he, “which the army will derive from this affair and that of Stony
Point, though great, will be among the least of the advantages resulting
from these events.” In a letter to the President of Congress, he
extolled the prudence, address, enterprise, and bravery displayed on the
occasion by Major Lee; in consequence of which the latter received the
signal reward of a gold medal.

Washington was now at West Point, diligently providing for the defence
of the Highlands against any farther attempts of the enemy. During the
time that he made this his head-quarters, the most important works, we
are told, were completed, especially the fort at West Point, which
formed the citadel of those mountains.

Of his singularly isolated situation with respect to public affairs, we
have evidence in the following passage of a letter to Edmund Randolph,
who had recently taken his seat in Congress. “I shall be happy in such
communications as your leisure and other considerations will permit you
to transmit to me, for I am as totally unacquainted with the political
state of things, and what is going forward in the great national
council, as if I was an alien; when a competent knowledge of the temper
and designs of our allies, from time to time, and the frequent changes
and complexion of affairs in Europe might, as they ought to do, have a
considerable influence on the operations of our army, and would in many
cases determine the propriety of measures, which under a cloud of
darkness can only be groped at. I say this upon a presumption that
Congress, either through their own ministers or that of France, must be
acquainted in some degree with the plans of Great Britain, and the
designs of France and Spain. If I mistake in this conjecture, it is to
be lamented that they have not better information; or, if political
motives render disclosures of this kind improper, I am content to remain
in ignorance.”

Of the style of living at head-quarters, we have a picture in the
following letter to Doctor John Cochran, the surgeon-general and
physician of the army. It is almost the only instance of sportive
writing in all Washington’s correspondence.

“DEAR DOCTOR:—I have asked Mrs. Cochran and Mrs. Livingston to dine
with me to-morrow; but am I not in honor bound to apprise them of
their fare? As I hate deception, even where the imagination only is
concerned, I will. It is needless to premise that my table is large
enough to hold the ladies. Of this they had ocular proof yesterday. To
say how it is usually covered is more essential; and this shall be the
purport of my letter.

“Since our arrival at this happy spot, we have had a ham, sometimes a
shoulder of bacon, to grace the head of the table: a piece of roast
beef adorns the foot; and a dish of beans or greens, almost
imperceptible, decorates the centre. When the cook has a mind to cut a
figure, which I presume will be the case to-morrow, we have two
beefsteak pies, or dishes of crabs, in addition, one on each side of
the centre dish, dividing the space and reducing the distance between
dish and dish to about six feet, which, without them, would be about
twelve feet apart. Of late he has had the surprising sagacity to
discover that apples will make pies, and it is a question, if, in the
violence of his efforts, we do not get one of apples instead of having
both of beefsteaks. If the ladies can put up with such entertainment,
and will submit to partake of it on plates once tin but now iron (not
become so by the labor of scouring), I shall be happy to see them.”

We may add, that, however poor the fare and poor the table equipage at
head-quarters, every thing was conducted with strict etiquette and
decorum, and we make no doubt the ladies in question were handed in with
as much courtesy to the bacon and greens and tin dishes, as though they
were to be regaled with the daintiest viands, served up on enamelled
plate and porcelain.

The arrival of Admiral Arbuthnot, with a fleet, bringing three thousand
troops and a supply of provisions and stores, strengthened the hands of
Sir Henry Clinton. Still he had not sufficient force to warrant any
further attempt up the Hudson, Washington, by his diligence in
fortifying West Point, having rendered that fastness of the Highlands
apparently impregnable. Sir Henry turned his thoughts, therefore,
towards the South, hoping, by a successful expedition in that direction,
to counterbalance ill success in other quarters. As this would require
large detachments, he threw up additional works on New York Island and
at Brooklyn, to render his position secure with the diminished force
that would remain with him.

At this juncture news was received of the arrival of the Count
D’Estaing, with a formidable fleet on the coast of Georgia, having made
a successful cruise in the West Indies, in the course of which he had
taken St. Vincent’s and Granada. A combined attack upon New York was
again talked of. In anticipation of it, Washington called upon several
of the Middle States for supplies of all kinds, and reinforcements of
militia. Sir Henry Clinton, also, changed his plans; caused Rhode Island
to be evacuated; the troops and stores to be brought away; the garrisons
brought off from Stony and Verplanck’s Points; and all his forces to be
concentrated at New York, which he endeavored to put in the strongest
posture of defence.

Intelligence recently received, too, that Spain had joined France in
hostilities against England, contributed to increase the solicitude and
perplexities of the enemy, while it gave fresh confidence to the
Americans.

The Chevalier de la Luzerne, minister from France, with Mons. Barbé
Marbois, his secretary of legation, having recently landed at Boston,
paid Washington a visit at his mountain fortress, bringing letters of
introduction from Lafayette. The chevalier not having yet announced
himself to Congress, did not choose to be received in his public
character. “If he had,” writes Washington, “except paying him military
honors, it was not my intention to depart from that plain and simple
manner of living, which accords with the real interest and policy of men
struggling under every difficulty for the attainment of the most
inestimable blessing of life, _liberty_.”

In conformity with this intention, he welcomed the chevalier to the
mountains with the thunder of artillery, and received him at his
fortress with military ceremonial; but very probably surprised him with
the stern simplicity of his table, while he charmed him with the dignity
and grace with which he presided at it. The ambassador evidently
acquitted himself with true French suavity and diplomatic tact. “He was
polite enough,” writes Washington, “to approve my principle, and
condescended to appear pleased with our Spartan living. In a word, he
made us all exceedingly happy by his affability and good humor while he
remained in camp.”

The letters from Lafayette spoke of his favorable reception at court,
and his appointment to an honorable situation in the French army. “I had
no doubt,” writes Washington, “that this would be the case. To hear it
from yourself adds pleasure to the account. And here, my dear friend,
let me congratulate you. None can do it with more warmth of affection,
or sincere joy than myself. Your forward zeal in the cause of liberty;
your singular attachment to this infant world; your ardent and
persevering efforts, not only in America, but since your return to
France, to serve the United States; your polite attention to Americans,
and your strict and uniform friendship for _me_, have ripened the first
impressions of esteem and attachment which I imbibed for you, into such
perfect love and gratitude, as neither time nor absence can impair. This
will warrant my assuring you that, whether in the character of an
officer at the head of a corps of gallant Frenchmen, if circumstances
should require this, whether as a major-general commanding a division of
the American army, or whether, after our swords and spears have given
place to the ploughshare and the pruning-hook, I see you as a private
gentleman, a friend and companion, I shall welcome you with all the
warmth of friendship to Columbia’s shores; and, in the latter case, to
my rural cottage, where homely fare and a cordial reception, shall be
substituted for delicacies and costly living. This, from past
experience, I know you can submit to; and if the lovely partner of your
happiness will consent to participate with _us_ in such rural
entertainment and amusements, I can undertake, on behalf of Mrs.
Washington, that she will do every thing in her power to make Virginia
agreeable to the marchioness. My inclination and endeavors to do this
cannot be doubted, when I assure you, that I love every body that is
dear to you, and consequently participate in the pleasure you feel in
the prospect of again becoming a parent, and do most sincerely
congratulate you and your lady on this fresh pledge she is about to give
you of her love.”

Washington’s anticipations of a combined operation with D’Estaing
against New York were again disappointed. The French admiral, on
arriving on the coast of Georgia, had been persuaded to co-operate with
the Southern army, under General Lincoln, in an attempt to recover
Savannah, which had fallen into the hands of the British during the
preceding year. For three weeks a siege was carried on with great vigor,
by regular approaches on land, and cannonade and bombardment from the
shipping. On the 9th of October, although the approaches were not
complete, and no sufficient breach had been effected, Lincoln and
D’Estaing, at the head of their choicest troops, advanced before
daybreak to storm the works The assault was gallant but unsuccessful;
both Americans and French had planted their standards on the redoubts,
but were finally repulsed. After the repulse, both armies retired from
before the place, the French having lost in killed and wounded upwards
of six hundred men, the Americans about four hundred. D’Estaing himself
was among the wounded, and the gallant Count Pulaski among the slain.
The loss of the enemy was trifling, being protected by their works.

The Americans recrossed the Savannah River into South Carolina; the
militia returned to their homes, and the French re-embarked.

The tidings of this reverse, which reached Washington late in November,
put an end to all prospect of co-operation from the French fleet; a
consequent change took place in all his plans. The militia of New York
and Massachusetts, recently assembled, were disbanded, and arrangements
were made for the winter. The army was thrown into two divisions; one
was to be stationed under General Heath in the Highlands, for the
protection of West Point and the neighboring posts; the other and
principal division was to be hutted near Morristown, where Washington
was to have his head-quarters. The cavalry were to be sent to
Connecticut.

Understanding that Sir Henry Clinton was making preparations at New York
for a large embarkation of troops, and fearing they might be destined
against Georgia and Carolina, he resolved to detach the greater part of
his Southern troops for the protection of those States; a provident
resolution, in which he was confirmed by subsequent instructions from
Congress. Accordingly, the North Carolina brigade took up its march for
Charleston in November, and the whole of the Virginia line in December.

Notwithstanding the recent preparations at New York, the ships remained
in port, and the enemy held themselves in collected force there. Doubts
began to be entertained of some furtive design nearer at hand, and
measures were taken to protect the army against an attack when in
winter-quarters. Sir Henry, however, was regulating his movements by
those the French fleet might make after the repulse at Savannah.
Intelligence at length arrived that it had been dispersed by a violent
storm. Count D’Estaing, with a part, had shaped his course for France;
the rest had proceeded to the West Indies.

Sir Henry now lost no time in carrying his plans into operation. Leaving
the garrison of New York under the command of Lieutenant-general
Knyphausen, he embarked several thousand men, on board of transports, to
be convoyed by five ships of the line and several frigates under Admiral
Arbuthnot, and set sail on the 26th of December, accompanied by Lord
Cornwallis, on an expedition intended for the capture of Charleston and
the reduction of South Carolina.

END OF VOL. III.

-----

Footnote 1:

Burke’s Works, vol. v. p. 125.

Footnote 2:

“These rascals plunder all indiscriminately. If they see any thing
they like, they say, ‘Rebel good for Hesse-mans,’ and seize upon it
for their own use. They have no idea of the distinctions between Whig
and Tory.”—_Letter of Hazard the Postmaster._

Footnote 3:

Wilkinson’s Memoirs, vol. i. p. 149.

Footnote 4:

Notes of the Rev. Joseph F. Tuttle, MS.

Footnote 5:

Sparks’ Am. Biography, vol. vii. p. 196.

Footnote 6:

Washington to the President of Cong. Also note to Sparks, vol. iv. p.
290.

Footnote 7:

Notes of the Rev. Joseph F. Tuttle, MS.

Footnote 8:

Graydon’s Memoirs, p. 232.

Footnote 9:

Am. Archives, 5th Series, iii. 1244.

Footnote 10:

Letter to Governor Cooke, Sparks, iv. 285.

Footnote 11:

Schuyler’s Letter Book, MS.

Footnote 12:

Schuyler’s Letter Book, MS.

Footnote 13:

Sparks. Washington’s Writings, iv. 361. note.

Footnote 14:

The reader may recollect that it was Commissary-general Trumbull who
wrote the letter to Gates calculated to inflame his jealousy against
Schuyler, when the question of command had risen between them. (See
vol i. ch. 28.)

Footnote 15:

Gates’s papers. N. Y. H. Lib.

Footnote 16:

Journals of Congress.

Footnote 17:

Letter of Col. Richard Varick. Schuyler’s Letter Book.

Footnote 18:

Schuyler’s Letter Book.

Footnote 19:

Foreign Quarterly Review, vol xv. p. 114.

Footnote 20:

Sparks. Writings of Washington, iv. 407.

Footnote 21:

Life of Lamb, p. 157.

Footnote 22:

Schuyler’s Letter Book.

Footnote 23:

Letter to Jas. Lovell, of Massachusetts. Gates’s papers, N. Y. Hist.
Lib.

Footnote 24:

Gates’s Papers.

Footnote 25:

Washington’s Writings, Sparks, iv. 427.

Footnote 26:

Gates’s Papers, N. Y. Hist. Lib.

Footnote 27:

Letter of the Hon. Wm. Duer, Schuyler’s Papers.

Footnote 28:

Clinton to Washington.

Footnote 29:

Evidence of Major-general Grey before the House of Commons.

Footnote 30:

Life of Reed by his grandson.

Footnote 31:

Civil war in America, v. i. p. 247.

Footnote 32:

Letter to the President of Cong. 28th June, 1777.

Footnote 33:

Communicated to the author by the late Mrs. Hamilton.

NOTE.—A veteran officer of the Revolution used to speak in his old
days of the occasion on which he first saw Hamilton. It was during the
memorable retreat through the Jerseys. “I noticed,” said he, “a youth,
a mere stripling, small, slender, almost delicate in frame, marching
beside a piece of artillery, with a cocked hat pulled down over his
eyes, apparently lost in thought, with his hand resting on the cannon,
and every now and then patting it as he mused, as if it were a
favorite horse, or a pet plaything.”

Footnote 34:

Graydon’s Memoirs, 282.

Footnote 35:

Henry Brockholst Livingston: in after years judge of the Supreme Court
of the United States.

Footnote 36:

Letter of Major Livingston to Genl. Schuyler, MS.

Footnote 37:

Letter to the Hon. George Clymer.

Footnote 38:

Schuyler’s Letter Book.

Footnote 39:

Letter to Schuyler, 18th July, 1777.

Footnote 40:

Trumbull’s Autobiography, p. 32.

Footnote 41:

MS. Letter of Richard Varick to Schuyler.

Footnote 42:

Hist. Civil War in America, vol. i. p. 283.

Footnote 43:

Letter to Governor Trumbull. Correspondence of the Revolution, vol. i.
Sparks.

Footnote 44:

Schuyler’s Letter Book.

Footnote 45:

Civil War in America, vol. i. p. 250.

Footnote 46:

Communicated by Professor B. Silliman.

Footnote 47:

Schuyler to Gov. Trumbull. Letter Book.

Footnote 48:

Schuyler’s Papers.

Footnote 49:

Schuyler’s Letter Book.

Footnote 50:

Memoires du Gen. Lafayette, tom. i. p. 19.

Footnote 51:

Washington to Benj. Harrison. Sparks, v. 35.

Footnote 52:

The sad story of Miss McCrea, like many other incidents of the
Revolution, has been related in such a variety of ways, and so wrought
up by tradition, that it is difficult now to get at the simple truth.
Some of the above circumstances were derived from a niece of Miss
McCrea, whom the author met upwards of fifty years ago, at her
residence on the banks of the St. Lawrence. A stone, with her name cut
on it, still marks the grave of Miss McCrea near the ruins of Fort
Edward; and a tree is pointed out near which she was murdered.
Lieutenant Jones is said to have been completely broken in spirit by
the shock of her death. Procuring her scalp, with its long silken
tresses, he brooded over it in anguish, and preserved it as a sad, but
precious relic. Disgusted with the service, he threw up his
commission, and retired to Canada; never marrying, but living to be an
old man; taciturn and melancholy, and haunted by painful
recollections.

Footnote 53:

Some of the particulars of this action were given to the author by a
son of Colonel Paris.

Footnote 54:

Letter to Gates. Gates’s Papers.

Footnote 55:

Schlözer’s Briefwechsel, Th. iii. Heft xvii.

Footnote 56:

Schlözer’s Briefwechsel.

Footnote 57:

Briefe aus Amerika. Schlözer’s Briefwechsel, Th. iii. Heft xiii.

Footnote 58:

Schlözer’s Briefwechsel, Th. iii. Heft xiii.

Footnote 59:

Gates’s Papers.

Footnote 60:

After General Gates had written his letter to Burgoyne, he called
General Lincoln and myself into his apartment, read it to us, and
requested our opinion of it, which we declined giving; but being
pressed by him, with diffidence we concurred in judgment, that he had
been too personal; to which the old gentleman replied with his
characteristic bluntness, “By G—! I don’t believe either of you can
mend it:”—and thus the consultation terminated.—_Wilkinson’s Memoirs_,
vol. i. 231.

Footnote 61:

Memoires. Tom. 1. p. 26.

Footnote 62:

Memoir of Major Samuel Shaw, by Hon. Josiah Quincy.

Footnote 63:

Letter to Lord George Germain.

Footnote 64:

Riedesel’s Memoirs.

Footnote 65:

MS. Letter to Schuyler.

Footnote 66:

MS. Letter to Schuyler.

Footnote 67:

Schlözer’s Briefwechsel.

Footnote 68:

Wilkinson’s Memoirs, i. 236.

Footnote 69:

Col. Varick to Schuyler. Schuyler Papers.

Footnote 70:

Col. Varick to Schuyler. Schuyler Papers.

Footnote 71:

Burgoyne to Lord George Germain.

Footnote 72:

Col. Livingston to Schuyler. Schuyler Papers.

Footnote 73:

Gates’s Papers, N. Y. Hist. Lib.

Footnote 74:

Burgoyne’s Expedition, p. 166.

Footnote 75:

Correspondence of the Revolution. Sparks, ii. 537.

Footnote 76:

Civil War in America, vol. i. p. 311.

Footnote 77:

Stedman, vol. i. p. 364.

Footnote 78:

Idem.

Footnote 79:

Letter to the Council of Safety. Jour. of Provincial Congress, vol. i.
1064.

Footnote 80:

Gov. Clinton to the N. Y. Council of Safety. Journal of Prov. Cong.

Footnote 81:

Schlözer’s Briefwechsel.

Footnote 82:

Letter to Gov. Clinton. Gates’s Papers.

Footnote 83:

Civil War in America i. 302.

Footnote 84:

Riedesel’s Memoirs.

Footnote 85:

Riedesel’s Memoirs, p. 171.

Footnote 86:

The statement here given is founded on the report made to General
Wilkinson by Major (afterward General) Dearborn. It varies from that
of Burgoyne.

Footnote 87:

Schuyler Papers.

Footnote 88:

“At the very time,” say the British historians, “that General Burgoyne
was receiving the most favorable conditions for himself and his ruined
army, the fine village or town of Esopus, at no very great distance,
was reduced to ashes, and not a house left standing.”

Footnote 89:

Briefe aus Neu England. Schlözer’s Briefwechsel.

Footnote 90:

Letter to the President of Cong. Sparks, v. 71.

Footnote 91:

Letter of Washington to the President of Congress. Letter of Sullivan
to the President of New Hampshire.

Footnote 92:

Letter to Col. Lamb in the Lamb Papers. N. Y. Hist. Soc., and quoted
in the Life of Lamb, p. 183.

Footnote 93:

Reed’s Memoirs, vol. i. p. 319.

Footnote 94:

Civil War in America, i. 269.

Footnote 95:

Capt. Heth to Col. Lamb.

Footnote 96:

Major Shaw, Memoirs by Josiah Quincy, p. 41.

Footnote 97:

De Chastellux, vol. i. p. 266.

Footnote 98:

Gates’s Papers, N. Y. Hist. Lib.

Footnote 99:

Life of Lord Stirling, by W. A. Duer, p. 182.

Footnote 100:

Life of Talbot, by Henry T. Tuckerman, p. 31.

Footnote 101:

Governor Clinton and myself have been down to view the forts, and are
both of opinion that a boom, thrown across at Fort Constitution, and a
battery on each side of the river, would answer a much better purpose
than at Fort Montgomery, as the garrison would be reinforced by
militia with more expedition, and the ground much more definable
(defendable?).—Putnam to Washington, 7th Nov. 1777.—_Sparks’ Cor. of
the Rev._ ii. 30.

Footnote 102:

Gates’s Papers, N. Y. Hist. Soc. Lib.

Footnote 103:

Reed to Gates. Gates’s Papers.

Footnote 104:

Reed to President Wharton.

Footnote 105:

Life and Cor. of Reed, vol. i. p. 341.

Footnote 106:

Washington’s Writings. Sparks, vol. v. p. 171.

Footnote 107:

Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 122.

Footnote 108:

Gates’s Papers, N. Y. Hist. Soc. Lib.

Footnote 109:

Life and Cor. of Reed, vol. i. p. 351.

Footnote 110:

Letter of Elias Boudinot, Commissary of Prisoners, to President
Wharton .—_Life and Cor. of J. Reed_, vol. i. p. 351.

Footnote 111:

Gordon’s Hist. Am. War, vol. ii. p. 279.

Footnote 112:

Gates’s Papers, N. Y. Hist. Lib.

Footnote 113:

Sparks. Washington’s Writings, vol. v. p. 498.

Footnote 114:

Sparks. Washington’s Writings, vol. v. p. 493.

Footnote 115:

Idem, vol. v. p. 497.

Footnote 116:

Sparks’ Cor. Am. Rev. vol. ii. p. 74.

Footnote 117:

At that time an aide-de-camp of Gates.

Footnote 118:

Letter to Gen. Henry Lee, Virginia.—_Sparks’ Writings of Washington_,
vol. v. 378.

Footnote 119:

Letter to Landon Carter. Idem. p. 391.

Footnote 120:

The introduction to the letters states them to have been transmitted
to England by an officer serving in Delancey’s corps of loyalists, who
gives the following account of the way he came by them:—Among the
prisoners at Fort Lee, I espied a mulatto fellow, whom I thought I
recollected, and who confirmed my conjectures by gazing very earnestly
at me. I asked him if he knew me. At first, he was unwilling to own
it; but when he was about to be carried of, thinking, I suppose, that
I might perhaps be of some service to him, he came and told me that he
was Billy, and the old servant of General Washington. He had been left
there on account of an indisposition which prevented his attending his
master. I asked him a great many questions, as you may suppose; but
found very little satisfaction in his answers. At last, however, he
told me that he had a small portmanteau of his master’s, of which,
when he found that he must be put into confinement, he entreated my
care. It contained only a few stockings and shirts; and I could see
nothing worth my care, except an almanack, in which he had kept a sort
of a journal, or diary of his proceedings since his first coming to
New York; there were also two letters from his lady, one from Mr.
Custis, and some pretty long ones from a Mr. Lund Washington. And in
the same bundle with them, the first draughts, or foul copies of
answers to them. I read these with avidity; and being highly
entertained with them, have shown them to several of my friends, who
all agree with me, that he is a very different character from what
they had supposed him.

In commenting on the above, Washington observed that his mulatto man
Billy, had never been one moment in the power of the enemy, and that
no part of his baggage nor any of his attendants were captured during
the whole course of the war.—_Letter to Timothy Pickering, Sparks_,
ix. 149.

Footnote 121:

Sparks’ Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 300.

Footnote 122:

Wilkinson’s Memoirs, vol i. p. 409.

Footnote 123:

Sparks’ Writings of Washington. Vol. v. Appendix—where there is a
series of documents respecting the Conway Cabal.

Footnote 124:

Names of the committee—General Reed, Nathaniel Folsom, Francis Dana,
Charles Carroll, and Gouverneur Morris.

Footnote 125:

Stedman.

Footnote 126:

Bryan Fairfax continued to reside in Virginia until his death, which
happened in 1802, at seventy-five years of age. He became proprietor
of Belvoir and heir to the family title, but the latter he never
assumed. During the latter years of his life he was a clergyman of the
Episcopal church.

Footnote 127:

Washington to the President of Cong. Sparks. v. 347.

Footnote 128:

On one occasion having exhausted all his German and French oaths, he
vociferated to his aide-de-camp, Major Walker, “Vien mon ami
Walker—vien mon bon ami. Sacra— G— dam de gaucherie of dese badauts—je
ne puis plus—I can curse dem no more.”—_Carden, Anecdotes of the Am.
War_, p. 341.

Footnote 129:

Correspondence of the Revolution, vol. ii. p. 274.

Footnote 130:

Washington to Greene.—_Writings of Washington_, vol. vii. p. 152.

Footnote 131:

Wilkinson’s Memoirs, vol. i. p. 852.

Footnote 132:

Stedman.

Footnote 133:

In the Gazette of that date the Conciliatory Bills were published by
order of Congress; as an instance of their reception by the public, we
may mention that in Rhode Island the populace burned them under the
gallows.

Footnote 134:

Stedman, vol. i. p. 384.

Footnote 135:

19 Parliamentary Hist. 1338.

Footnote 136:

Force’s Am. Archives, vol. 1. 962.

Footnote 137:

MS. letter of Hamilton to Elias Boudinot.

Footnote 138:

Evidence of Dr. McHenry on the Court-Martial.

Footnote 139:

Lossing’s Field Book of the Revolution, ii. 363.

Footnote 140:

Letter to Joseph Reed. Sparks. Biog. of Lee, p. 174.

Footnote 141:

Letter to Dr. Rush. Sparks. Biog. of Lee.

Footnote 142:

Washington to Reed. Sparks, vol. vi. 133.

Footnote 143:

Brit. Ann. Register for 1778 p. 229.

Footnote 144:

Letter of the count.

Footnote 145:

Letter of Lafayette to Washington. Memoirs, T. i. p. 194.

Footnote 146:

Gentleman’s Magazine for 1778, p. 545.

Footnote 147:

Ann. Register, 1778, p. 215.

Footnote 148:

It is a popular tradition, that when Washington proposed to Wayne the
storming of Stony Point, the reply was, “General, I’ll storm h—ll if
_you_ will only plan it.”

Footnote 149:

Stedman, vol. i. p. 145.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Page Changed from Changed to

388 sufficiently recovered form his sufficiently recovered from his
wound for field service; then wound for field service; then

● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last
chapter.
● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
● HTML alt text was added for images that didn’t have captions.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON, VOLUME 3 OF 5 ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”

• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.

• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.

• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.